A Convert’s Tale: Art, Crime, and Jewish Apostasy in Renaissance Italy 9780674242555

Citation preview

i tatti studies in italian r enaissance history

Published in collaboration with I Tatti The Harvard University Center for Italian Renaissance Studies Florence, Italy

gener al editor Kate Lowe

A CONVERT’S TALE Art, Crime, and Jewish Apostasy in Re­nais­sance Italy lllllllll

TAMAR HERZIG

Cambridge, Mas­sa­chu­setts London, ­England 2019

Copyright © 2019 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Printed in the United States of Amer­i­ca First printing Jacket design—Tim Jones Artwork: Detail of Madonna and Child by Andrea Mantegna, 1495, courtesy of the Musée du Louvre, Paris, France. Photograph by Jean-Gilles Berizzi, © RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource 9780674242562 (EPUB) 9780674242579 (MOBI) 9780674242555 (PDF) The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows: Names: Herzig, Tamar, author. Title: A convert’s tale : art, crime, and Jewish apostasy in renaissance Italy / Tamar Herzig. Description: Cambridge, Mas­sa­chu­setts : Harvard University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019014640 | ISBN 9780674237537 (hardcover) Subjects: LCSH: Fedeli, Ercole dei, approximately 1465–­| Christian converts from Judaism—­Italy—­History—­To 1500. | Christian converts from Judaism—­Italy—­History— 16th ­century. | Goldsmiths—­Italy—­Biography. | Art patronage—­Italy—­History. Classification: LCC BV2623.F43 H46 2019 | DDC 248.2/46602092 [B]—­dc23 LC rec­ord available at https://­lccn​.­loc​.­gov​/­2019014640

For Niv

CONTENTS

Introduction: The Convert’s Tale

1

I THE VIRTUOSO JEW 1 A Moneylender’s Son Turned Goldsmith

13

2 The Jewish ­Widow’s Testament

22

3 Eleonora of Aragon’s Court Goldsmith

30

4 A Murdered Child

36

5 Friends and Foes

45

II APOSTASY 6 A Jewish Sodomite?

59

7 Conversions: Voluntary and Coerced

70

8 Princely Justice and Christian Piety

78

9 Baptizing the Jews

93

vii

viii C ontents



III A ­FAMILY OF CONVERTS

10 A Haunting Past

113

11 Travels and Trou­bles

121

12 Cesare Borgia’s “Queen of Swords”

130

13 Anna: Lucrezia Borgia’s Damsel

139

14 ­Sister Theodora: From Jewish Girl to Bride of Christ

146

15 The ­Family Workshop: Master Ercole and His Sons

162



IV BETWEEN CHRISTIANS AND JEWS

16 In Prison, Again

183

17 Plague and Malaria

195

18 Ferrara at War

207

19 Glitter and Grief

221

20 Gold Pawned to the Jews

230

Epilogue: One of the Faithful?

241

NOTES  249 ACKNOWL­EDGMENTS  INDEX  377

373

lllllllllllll

A CONVERT’S TALE lllllllllllll

Introduction The Convert’s Tale

Yesterday, at the 21st hour [3 P.M.], three Jews w ­ ere baptized: Salamone and his son and a Jewess who is in love with a Christian. The most illustrious lady [Duchess Eleonora of Aragon] presented Salamone at baptism, and he has the name Ercole. The lord Don Alfonso presented the son, who has the name Alfonso. The Jewess was presented by the most illustrious lady Anna [Sforza], and she has the name Anna. They w ­ ere all baptized on a high platform in the cathedral in front of the crucifix. Then Ercole, that new Christian, mounted a pulpit that had been built t­ here, and he preached ­t here with the book of the Bible in Hebrew in his hand, and declared what reason induced him to become a Christian. He proclaimed many texts from Isaiah, from Jerome, from Daniel, and from quite a few other prophets, as well as from St. John the Evangelist, affirming and declaring the error of the Jews in awaiting the Messiah, by showing that they cannot deny that which the prophets say, [namely,] that the true Messiah, who was the blessed Jesus Christ, has come, 1

2

A CONVERT’S TALE

and furthermore afterward he recounted in his defense what had been the cause of his having been imprisoned by [i.e., ­because of ] the Jews, saying that he was hated by the Jews of Mantua b ­ ecause of that miracle of our glorious Lady in that boy who had died e­ arlier.1

This account of a baptismal ceremony that was held in Ferrara on October 9, 1491, appears in a letter that Francesco da Bagnacavallo sent Isabella d’Este, the marchioness of Mantua, on the following day. The event was deemed significant enough to be described in three additional missives that w ­ ere dispatched from Ferrara, as well as in a Ferrarese chronicle.2 T ­ hese and other sources reveal the participation of Isabella’s parents, Eleonora of Aragon and Ercole d’Este, the Duchess and Duke of Ferrara, in the attempts to procure the baptism of several local Jews. Such conversionary endeavors ­were well ­u nder way just a year before Duchess Eleonora and Duke Ercole welcomed Jews, exiled from Spain ­because they refused to convert, into their duchy—­thereby complicating the traditional historiographical view that stresses the Ferrarese rulers’ benevolent Jewry policy. 3 Bagnacavallo’s missive, which rec­ords the christening of the Jew Salomone (regularly spelled Salamone) as Ercole, in honor of Duke Ercole, also hints at the dubious circumstances that led the convert to be baptized in a ceremony orchestrated by Duchess Eleonora. Associating his conversion to Chris­t ian­ity with a miraculous event, Salomone / Ercole linked it to an incarceration, for which he blamed his Jewish adversaries. As this assertion indicates, the Mantuan Jews who implicated him in a serious crime thereby, ironically, instigated a turn of events that ultimately led not only to the apostasy of their wayward coreligionist but also to that of his f­ amily. The following chapters tell the story of Salomone da Sesso, better known as Ercole de’ Fedeli (c. 1452 / 57–­a fter 1521), a goldsmith who excelled in the creation of exquisite pieces of jewelry and lavishly engraved swords for members of Re­nais­sance Italy’s ruling elite. Already prior to his baptism in 1491, Salomone / Ercole was praised by Isabella d’Este, one of the era’s foremost connoisseurs, as a goldsmith who was “very able [molto virtuoso] and refined in his craft.” 4 ­Today, he is remembered primarily ­because of the “Queen of Swords” that he crafted, ­a fter his conversion, for military leader Cesare Borgia, the son of Pope Alexander VI. 5

Gentilesca

Pinta

Caterina / Sister Theodora

Diana

Fiore

m. Eleonora

Salomone da Sesso (Sessa) / Ercole de’ Fedeli

m. Emanuele di Sabato

6 Children

m. Sapientia

Graziadio (Semaia) / Joseph / Ferrante Alfonso (Ferdinando)

Fig. 1. ​Salomone da Sesso / Ercole de’ Fedeli’s paternal ­family and descendants.

Museto

m. Salomone di Sabatuccio m. Angelo di Museto da d’Altari Sant’Elpidio

m. Ricca (Rica) di Joseph Finzi da Lendinara

Mele di Salomone da Sessa

Salomone da Sessa

m. ?

Anna

Gabriele

3 more daughters

Lazzaro

Gentilesca Pinta

m. Salomone di Sabatuccio m. Angelo di Museto da d’Altari Sant’Elpidio

Fig. 2. ​Salomone da Sesso / Ercole de’ Fedeli’s maternal ­family.

Ludovico

Angelo / Arcangelo Maria

Leucio

Diana

m. Stella

Joseph Finzi da Lendinara

Gaio

m. Eleonora

Salomone da Sesso (Sessa) / Ercole de’ Fedeli

Consiglio

Salomone

Musettino di Padova Finzi

Gabriele

m. Mele di Salomone da Sessa

Ricca (Rica)

Dolcetta

Lazzaro

Manuele

Duke Alfonso I

Ferrante (Ferdinando) Cardinal Ippolito I d’Este

m. Lucrezia dei Medici

Duke Alfonso II*

m. Renée of France

Duke Ercole II*

(1) m. Anna Sforza (d. 1497) (2) m. Lucrezia Borgia

Eleonora

Fig. 3. ​The House of Este, Dukes of Ferrara.

* = and other children

Federico*

Beatrice

m. Ludovico Sforza

Isabella

m. Francesco Gonzaga

m. Eleonora of Aragon

Duke Ercole I d’Este

Sigismondo

6

A CONVERT’S TALE

While ­earlier studies have dealt with Salomone / Ercole’s artistic accomplishments, the circumstances leading to his apostasy from Judaism, at the height of his success, have not been probed previously.6 In this book, the convoluted occurrences that brought about the virtuoso goldsmith’s baptism serve as a point of entry into Jewish social and cultural assimilation, and into the mechanisms of religious conversion in the princely states of northern Italy. The oscillating fortunes of Salomone / Ercole and his ­family following their baptism are then reconstructed, in order to elucidate the contested meanings that conversion held for neophytes and for their new as well as their former coreligionists, several de­cades before the ecclesiastical authorities turned it into a main priority of the Church Militant. Beginning in the 1540s, the efforts to convert the Jews in Italian lands became increasingly institutionalized, as the Catholic establishment ­adopted vari­ous mea­sures geared at augmenting the number of Jewish baptisms.7 ­These included the foundation of Houses of Catechumens, first in Rome (in 1543) and then in other Italian cities. From 1542 onward, the Roman Inquisition also prosecuted Jews suspected of impeding conversions and converts who ­were accused of reverting to Judaism. Due to the wealth of material preserved in the archives of the Houses of Catechumens and of the Inquisition’s tribunals, ­these institutions’ rec­ords have hitherto served as the primary lens for exploring the experience of moving from Judaism to Chris­t ian­ity in early modern Italy. 8 The success of the missionary campaign to convert Italian Jews from the mid-­sixteenth through the eigh­teenth centuries was no doubt unpre­ ce­dented.9 Its roots, however, lay in the pre-­Reformation era. Local studies have demonstrated that a surge in the number of converts was already well u ­ nder way in the early fifteenth c­ entury and that the ­century’s last de­cades saw a rise in Jewish baptisms. During this period the conversions of Jews, ­either alone or with other ­family members, ­were recorded in Venice, Brescia, Lendinara (in the Polesine region), Mantua, and Lucca.10 In some places, Jewish baptisms occurred more than once, though usually no more than five times, in the course of the second half of the Quattrocento, as in the cases documented for the duchies of Milan and Ferrara, for the cities of Bologna, Florence, and Rome,11 and for vari­ous Umbrian towns. While ­these conversions did not form part of a

I ntroduction

large-­scale movement,12 it is noteworthy that they went hand in hand with the growing attention that writers of vari­ous literary, dramatic, and musical genres ascribed to the question of Jewish conversion in ­those very years.13 The lack of institutional documentation has rendered it more difficult to uncover the significance and ramifications of apostasy from Judaism before the Council of Trent (1545–1563). As a result, the motivations leading Jews to embrace Catholicism and the prospects awaiting ­those who crossed over to the Catholic side in pre-­Tridentine Italy remain relatively understudied.14 Recapitulating the life story of Salomone / Ercole aims at shedding light on such unexplored facets of the phenomenon of religious conversion. Believed to form a crucial part of the divine plan for the salvation of humankind, the conversion of the Jews traditionally held a unique significance for Christian authorities, one far greater than that ascribed to the conversion of other non-­Christians.15 Tellingly, unlike the conversion of Iberian Jews and of the Jews residing in the Spanish-­r uled regions of southern Italy, in the central and northern parts of the Italian Peninsula apostasy from Judaism was never a mass phenomenon.16 Italian Jews converted alone, although individual baptisms forced the conversion of neophytes’ c­ hildren and often prompted the apostasy of their spouses.17 This typology renders the microhistorical investigation of the dynamics leading to the baptism of a single Jew, and of the impact that it had on his or her f­ amily, a methodological practice particularly suited for clarifying the challenges of Jewish conversion in northern Italy.18 Unlike the vast majority of fifteenth-­century Italian Jewish apostates, Salomone / Ercole left ­behind a long paper trail, as a result of his occupational status as one of the makers of the glittering material culture that became a hallmark of Re­nais­sance courts.19 A renowned artist, our protagonist fits into the category that historian Edoardo Grendi has termed the “exceptional normal.”20 That is, he was one of ­those outstanding individuals whose life stories may nonetheless serve to illuminate the quotidian realities of larger social groups—in the goldsmith’s case, of Italian Jews and first-­generation converts. As argued in this study, although his artistic virtuosity distinguished him from most Jews prior to his baptism and from other neophytes thereafter, in many re­spects his experiences w ­ ere influenced by his religious identity, first as

7

8

A CONVERT’S TALE

a Jew and l­ ater as a convert. Occasional discussions of other known cases ­will provide a comparative perspective for explicating dif­fer­ent aspects of the goldsmith’s life story—­notably, the prosecution of illicit sexuality and its role in maintaining interreligious bound­aries; intracommunal rivalry as an impetus for apostasy; and the experience of religious conversion as an extended and multifaceted pro­cess. Despite its relative abundance, the lacunae in extant documentation still render the major drama in Salomone / Ercole’s life difficult to uncover, b ­ ecause the protocols of the proceedings that led to his baptism ­were all lost, along with most of Ferrara’s criminal rec­ords from the fifteenth ­century.21 Fortunately, though, this loss is somewhat offset by the survival of other sources disclosing a wealth of information about Salomone / Ercole’s life, both before and ­a fter his apostasy. 22 Prominent among t­ hese are detailed letters, including six dispatches drafted by the goldsmith himself and numerous other missives exchanged among members of the Este and Gonzaga families and their envoys and preserved at the Archivio Gonzaga (in the State Archives in Mantua) and at the historical archive of the Este rulers (now in the State Archives in Modena).23 My reconstruction of the vicissitudes of Salomone / Ercole additionally draws on a host of inventories and payment registers of the Ferrarese court (also in the State Archives in Modena), as well as on testaments and other notarial rec­ords from the State Archives in Florence, the State Archives in Bologna, and the State Archives in Ferrara.24 Other types of sources—­such as guild regulations, an act of endowment, and an unpublished chronicle—­from the Archivio Storico Comunale, Archivio Storico Diocesano, and Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea, all in Ferrara, provide additional insights about Salomone / Ercole’s life. The scope of available documentation regarding the neophyte is drastically dif­fer­ent from the faint evidentiary traces available for recovering the fate of his wife, who had been pressured into following him to the baptismal font. Moreover, although being baptized as a result of their ­father’s conversion played a decisive role in shaping the adult lives of Salomone / Ercole’s ­daughters no less than it affected the destiny of his sons, extant sources allow us to know considerably more about the latter, who followed in their ­father’s professional footsteps. Hence, one of the themes illustrated in this study is the impact of gender on determining the visibility of converts and their kin in the historical rec­ord.

I ntroduction

Centering on the contexts, motivations, and repercussions of a Jew’s conversion to Catholicism in pre-­Tridentine Italy, the pre­sent study is divided into four parts. The first is devoted to Salomone’s early life and discusses his professional formation as a Jewish goldsmith, as well as his relations with other Jews up ­until his ejection from Jewish society in 1491. The second part tackles the significance of Salomone’s apostasy, beginning with an analy­sis of the social norms and expectations that made pos­si­ble his incrimination for a nefarious sexual crime. It then considers the debate regarding the theological and judicial ramifications of baptism, which was sparked by the efforts to have Salomone and his relative pardoned in exchange for their conversion, moving on to the symbolic meaning ascribed to the public cele­bration of Jews’ crossing over to the Catholic side. Part III elucidates the short-­term socioeconomic consequences of apostasy from Judaism, through a detailed examination of the goldsmith’s life and of the fortunes of his two ­daughters and two sons in the de­cade and a half a­ fter their baptism. Part IV traces the whereabouts of Salomone / Ercole and his ­family from the death of their princely protector, Ercole d’Este, in 1505 and over the next sixteen years. Delineating the complexities of artist-­patron relations in the High Re­ nais­sance, this part also explores the impact of continuous warfare and recurrent epidemics on daily life and social relations in northern Italy during the stormy years of the Italian Wars (1494–1530). Charting the descent of Salomone / Ercole and his kin into destitution—­which led to the goldsmith’s recourse to illegal means, ultimately exposed by his erstwhile coreligionists—it points to the ­limited duration of the material benefits that religious conversion brought with it, as well as to adult converts’ inability to completely cast off their Jewish past. As the dramatic tale of Salomone / Ercole unfolds, it reveals the opportunities that ­were open to exceptionally talented individuals in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries—­a period often still credited, following Jacob Burckhardt’s Civilization of the Re­nais­sance in Italy (1860), with “the discovery of the individual.”25 Yet, at the same time, this life story bears witness to the enduring importance of ­family and communal ties, or lack thereof, in molding the destiny of even the most highly acclaimed Re­nais­sance artists. Additionally, it exposes the astounding distance between the living conditions of the artists, who created the scintillating material culture for which the courts of northern Italy

9

10

A CONVERT’S TALE

became so famous, and t­ hose of the aristocratic ­women and men who commissioned luxury commodities from them. The convert’s tale further opens a win­dow onto the sexual pleasures associated with the era’s masculine culture and into the po­liti­cal, social, and religious dimensions of their policing. It also attests to the blatantly arbitrary nature of the justice carried out at the Italian states ruled by refined, humanistically trained Italian princes. Above all ­else, however, the turning tides of Salomone / Ercole’s life illuminate the intricacies that accompanied apostasy from Judaism in pre-­R eformation Italy. At a time when certain lay rulers, even more than con­temporary prelates, took the lead in endorsing Jewish baptisms, they manifested their religious zeal by striving to ensure the successful absorption of baptized Jews into Catholic society. Pious patrons supported apostates from Judaism by offering them work, protecting them from their enemies, and assisting their ­children. Such mea­sures, though, ­were meant to publicize the profound religiosity of specific sovereigns, whose successors did not necessarily share their conversionary stance. Bereft of princely backing, neophytes w ­ ere left on their own to deal with the lingering shadows of their Jewish past. Thus, the fluctuating fortunes of Salomone / Ercole, as charted in the following chapters, disclose the chasm separating religious ideology from the social realities experienced by Italian Jews who consented to baptism, before the institution of intense conversionary programs by the Church in the second quarter of the sixteenth c­ entury.

I The Virtuoso Jew

CHAPTER ONE

A Moneylender’s Son Turned Goldsmith

S

goldsmith was born in Florence. His f­ ather, “Mele the son of Salomone from Sessa,”1 immigrated to Florence from Sessa Aurunca in Campania in 1437 and soon became one of the city’s prominent Jewish moneylenders.2 In 1448, a Jewish w ­ oman named Sara claimed that she was carry­ing Mele’s child, the fruit of a rather extended affair. 3 By the time he purportedly impregnated Sara, Mele was already engaged to Ricca (or Rica, d. c. 1485 / 89), ­daughter of the affluent banker Joseph (d. c. 1463) of Lendinara, the son of Gaio di Musettino Finzi.4 The further whereabouts of Sara and her child, if she or he was indeed ever born, is lost to history. What we do know is that Mele’s affair with this local, low-­status Jewess did not impede his marriage to the ­daughter of a successful banker from the northern Italian town of Lendinara (located near Rovigo in the Polesine region). 5 Together with his wife, Stella, Ricca’s f­ ather, Joseph Finzi, ran for several de­cades the Jewish bank in Lendinara, which ­until 1484 was ruled by the House of Este. Joseph was also involved in vari­ous business ventures with Jewish moneylenders in other urban centers of the Este duchy, including Ferrara.6 Since Jewish moneylenders in and around ALOMONE THE

13

14

A CONVERT’S TALE

Ferrara had strong business and ­family ties with their coreligionists in Florence, it was prob­ably through such mutual acquaintances that the betrothal of Ricca and Mele was secured.7 The notarial document certifying their engagement was drafted in Rovigo on June 27, 1447. Another notarial act, redacted in Florence, confirms that Ricca’s dowry amounted to 200 gold ducats. 8 This was a respectable, though by no means lavish, dowry for the d ­ aughter of an Italian Jewish banker.9 As was common in ­those years, following her wedding Ricca joined her husband and moved from Lendinara to Florence.10 The documentary evidence of Mele’s engagement to the ­daughter of an established banker from northern Italy and of his concurrent affair with a w ­ oman from the lower echelons of Florentine Jewish society suggests that the sexual mores of well-­off Jews may have been on a par ­those of their non-­Jewish counter­parts in this period. Indeed, as Michele Luzzati has shown, t­ here ­were occasions when other high-­status Jewish bankers did not shy away from engaging in sexual liaisons that transgressed the prescriptions of the halachic code with lower-­class w ­ omen and prostitutes, as well as with male sexual partners. Like their Christian social equals, though, they w ­ ere careful to marry teenage girls who w ­ ere presumably virgins, and whose families could afford the payment of substantial dowries.11 That the moneylender Joseph of Lendinara approved his d ­ aughter’s marriage to Mele, a colleague who at the time of his wedding to Ricca had already gotten another w ­ oman pregnant out of wedlock, attests to Mele’s social status and wealth. It also points to the pos­ si­ble leniency with which his fellow Jews might have judged his divergence from the sexual conduct prescribed by Jewish law—an attitude that w ­ ill inform our understanding of the vicissitudes of Mele’s son Salomone just a few de­cades ­later. Mele and his wife, Ricca, had three d ­ aughters and three sons, but two of their boys, Lazzaro and Gabriele, died during the 1460s.12 Salomone, the c­ ouple’s only male offspring to reach adulthood, was born sometime between 1452 and 1457 and was named ­a fter his paternal grand­father.13 Not much is known about his early childhood apart from the fact that his ­family, which initially resided in the Florentine neighborhood of San Lorenzo, relocated to the neighborhood of Santa Trinita in 1453 and in 1457 or 1458 moved once again, this time to San Miniato tra le torri.14



A M oneylender ’ s S on T urned G oldsmith

The specter of situations involving anti-­Jewish vio­lence and the threat of conversion to Chris­tian­ity seems to have colored Salomone’s life from the very first years of his childhood in Florence. During Lent season of 1458, the sermons of a Franciscan preacher instigated a mob attack on Jewish moneylenders in the Tuscan city. The assault culminated in the kidnapping of a Jewish ­woman, whose liberation was ultimately secured only thanks to the intervention of Florentine authorities, who banished the preacher from the city.15 Moshe ben Joab, who mentioned the episode in one of his Hebrew sermons, referred to the kidnapped ­woman as “the wife of Meir da Sessa.”16 It has been suggested that the latter should be identified as Mele da Sessa, and that Moshe’s cryptic wording alluded to the abduction of Mele’s wife to a Christian h ­ ouse, in order to compel her 17 to convert. Mele da Sessa died in January 1460, less than two years ­a fter this troubling episode. He passed away an affluent man, and in keeping with Jewish tradition Ricca was the first in line of inheritance in his testament. Second marriages w ­ ere very common among Italian Jews, but Ricca never 18 remarried. In compliance with her late husband’s last w ­ ill, she continued to manage the inheritance that he left for their young ­children, aided in this task by her d ­ aughter Pinta’s husband, Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, who acted as her l­ egal representative (procuratore).19 Jewish ­w idows often worked as moneylenders in Re­nais­sance Italy. Ricca, too, took over her husband’s business ­a fter his death. 20 At some point ­a fter May 1461, however, she de­cided to leave Florence and move to Bologna with her unmarried c­ hildren.21 Pinta and her husband also relocated to northern Italy, where Angelo and the ­couple’s son Museto ­were ­later attested as moneylenders. 22 The residents of Bologna and of the nearby cities and towns had apparently not heard of the southern town of Sessa Aurunca. ­A fter Ricca settled in Bologna, the documents mentioning the name of her late husband referred to him as “Mele da Sesso,” implying that his roots ­were in Sesso in Reggio Emilia.23 The toponym of Salomone, son of Mele and Ricca, who spent most of his life in northern Italy, is also given in con­ temporary sources as “da Sesso” (or Sexo). Hence, scholars unaware of the Florentine documentation pertaining to his ­father, Mele da Sessa, have hitherto presumed that Salomone’s ­family could be traced to Reggio Emilia.24

15

16

A CONVERT’S TALE

Although neither Ricca herself nor her late husband had any ­family in Florence, Mele da Sessa’s brother-­i n-­law—­t he husband of his ­sister Fiore—­a lready resided in Bologna in 1458, and a notarial document stated that at this time he was living in the ­house of Museto di Ventura (d. 1459),25 one of the city’s leading Jewish bankers, with whose son Ricca and Salomone w ­ ere to have contacts in subsequent years. 26 The proximity to the f­ amily of her late husband’s s­ ister may have played a role in Ricca’s decision to move to Bologna. ­After relocating to this city, she benefited from her brother-­in-­law’s ties with local Jewish bankers such as David the son of Joseph, who managed the bank known as the “Banco de Porta” ­a fter Museto di Ventura’s death. Ricca also established connections with Museto’s own son, who was also named Ventura and who operated another bank in Bologna.27 Ricca’s ­father, Joseph Finzi, left Lendinara around 1462, and the last known document to mention him rec­ords his presence in Monselice, south of Padua, in 1463. Joseph seems to have died shortly afterward and was never attested in Bologna.28 Nonetheless, in e­ arlier years both Joseph and his ­brothers, Ricca’s paternal ­u ncles, had collaborated with Jewish moneylenders from Bologna who belonged to dif­fer­ent branches of the extended Finzi ­family.29 Thus, Ricca may have also known other relatives or acquaintances in this city. What­ever the reasons that led her to relocate to Bologna, a notarial document from May 12, 1465, indicates that by this date Ricca was already living with her c­ hildren in this city and came to Florence to withdraw the ­family’s money from Florentine banks. 30 Ricca remained in Bologna ­u ntil her death, more than twenty years a­ fter departing from Florence. On September 15, 1485, she dictated her ­will ­there. In this document, she was identified as the d ­ aughter of Joseph of Lendinara, ­widow of the late “Mele da Sesso” and a resident of the cappella of San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana. 31 Bologna was divided into four quarters (quartieri) and ninety-­n ine administrative subdivisions, or cappelle. The cappella of San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana was the hub of mercantile and banking activity in the city. 32 Prior to the mid-1500s, the Jewish population in Bologna was ­f ree to s­ ettle throughout the city. Yet, like other occupational groups, Jews involved in moneylending tended to live in specific areas, in their case in proximity to the urban center of economic life. 33 The cappella of San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana, located in the quartiere of Porta



A M oneylender ’ s S on T urned G oldsmith

Ravennate, had attracted Jewish moneylenders and their families since the ­fourteenth ­century. By 1387, ten Jewish families resided ­there, and it thereafter remained the main area of Jewish settlement in Bologna. As such, in 1556 it was selected as the site of the short-­lived Bolognese ghetto. 34 Ricca’s son Salomone was already married by 1478, 35 and he continued to reside in Bologna with his wife ­until the summer of 1489. 36 The Jewish ­woman whom he wed may have been a ­d aughter of Zinatan Finzi, who managed the bank in Reggio Emilia from 1445 to the mid1480s, 37 ­because a Mantuan document from 1491 refers to Zinatan’s son Davide as Salomone’s brother-­in-­law (cognato).38 Although she lived with Salomone for more than forty years, his wife is not mentioned in the numerous documents pertaining to him that have come to light so far—­ except for a supplication that she drafted in 1521. This supplication indicates that upon her baptism, following her husband’s conversion to Catholicism in 1491, she received the Christian name Eleonora. 39 Her original, Jewish name, however, remains unknown. Salomone’s wife bore him at least seven c­ hildren, five girls and two boys. The first, the ­f uture nun Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, was born in 1479, and ­t here is no known rec­ord of her Jewish name.40 The boy Graziadio was born in 1482, and unlike his s­ ister he was not only mentioned but also identified by name in his grand­mother Ricca’s testament of 1485, as well as in subsequent notarial acts. A second ­daughter, whose original name is not attested in extant sources, was born between 1484 and 1491, when she was baptized and received the Christian name Anna.41 The c­ ouple’s younger son, Joseph—­apparently named ­a fter Salomone’s maternal grand­father, Joseph Finzi—­was born ­a fter Ricca had dictated her testament in September 1485 and was first mentioned, as an infant, in a notarial document of August 1489.42 Three additional girls, whose names are not known, ­were born ­a fter Salomone and his wife had moved to Ferrara and converted to Chris­t ian­ity.43 The gendered division of ­labor in Jewish ­house­holds essentially mirrored that of their Catholic counter­parts.44 Fifteenth-­century moralists, Christian and Jewish alike, railed against ­women’s participation in the marketplace, with its dangers of sexual impropriety and interfaith contact.45 Although Jewish w ­ idows such as Ricca often took over the moneylending businesses of their deceased husbands, married Jewish

17

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­ omen w w ­ ere increasingly confined to work in the domestic space.46 In the early years of her marriage, Salomone’s wife performed the chores of childbearing and weaning, cooking and laundering, and of raising their ­daughter and two sons.47 Moreover, she must have taken care of her husband’s business during his prolonged absences from Bologna, as Salomone’s maternal grand­mother, Stella Finzi, is known to have done a few de­cades ­earlier. Yet, in his wife’s case t­ hese activities went unrecorded, making it frustratingly difficult to say anything at all about what her life might have been like beyond her identification as a Jewish h ­ ouse­wife and 48 m ­ other. This flat profile of a fifteenth-­century Jewish ­woman, whose very name and ­family origins remain shrouded in obscurity, sharply contrasts with the quite round image that we have of her husband, Salomone. His activities, away from the private space of his home and, indeed, also from the city in which his f­ amily resided, left traces in a host of archival documents, allowing us to chart his self-­formation through the acquisition of an occupational identity during the first de­cade of his marriage and fatherhood. Salomone’s f­ ather envisioned his son following in his footsteps and becoming a moneylender. In the last ­will that Mele redacted shortly before his death, he even expressed his wish that his son maintain the partnership with his old business associates and friends, Emanuele di Bonaventura of Volterra (d. c. 1466) and Emanuele di Bonaiuto of Camerino.49 When Salomone reached adulthood, he indeed had financial dealings with Lazzaro, the son of Emanuele di Bonaventura. 50 He also entered into partnership with Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, his ­sister Pinta’s husband. 51 Yet his true vocation lay elsewhere, and by 1487 he had already earned himself a reputation as a talented goldsmith—at a time when skilled goldsmiths ­were considered true artists. 52 Goldsmithery was one of the main professional outlets for artistically inclined Jews such as Salomone. Painting and sculpture, the two visual arts most closely associated with the Italian Re­nais­sance, w ­ ere the 53 arts of the figure; Jews who specialized in them w ­ ere bound by Jewish ­legal provisions that sought to prevent transgressions of the biblical prohibition on making images. 54 Whereas abstaining from illustrating Christian themes seriously restricted the work opportunities of such Jewish artists, goldsmithery could easily be ­limited to ornamental decoration and still yield a sufficient number of commissions. One of the



A M oneylender ’ s S on T urned G oldsmith

elite trades in fifteenth-­century Italy, it was also closely linked to the world of Jewish moneylending. Pawnbroking was a key channel through which Christian artistic achievements penetrated Jewish society in premodern Eu­rope. 55 ­People borrowed from Jewish moneylenders ­either by pawning jewels or other movable objects, or by providing a written promise of the debt’s repayment or naming a guarantor who would ensure it. Although many of the debtors ­were the Christian poor, who pledged their working tools or their clothing, Jews also lent substantial sums to the rich. Since in most Italian city-­states they w ­ ere prevented from acquiring significant landholdings, they ­were excluded from mortgage lending and thus received ­either jewels or other valuables from their more affluent borrowers. 56 Hence, Jewish moneylenders had to gain knowledge of precious metals and gems in order to be able to assess their value when they ­were given as securities for loans, and to sell pledged valuables when debts remained unpaid.57 They ­were also familiar with the artistic achievements of Christian goldsmiths and obtained expertise in appraising their works. Jews occasionally sold pawned valuables to goldsmiths, 58 who dealt in precious metals and stones and also reused the materials for their own craftsmanship.59 Italian Jews also participated in the trade in rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls, and diamonds that reached fifteenth-­century Eu­rope from Asia and Africa through the Mediterranean.60 Their dealing in precious materials sometimes resulted in clashes with the local goldsmiths’ guilds.61 In Bologna, Jews w ­ ere not allowed to join the goldsmiths’ guild but ­were actively involved in the trade in valuable metals and gems for which this city, situated at the crossroads of Lombardy and Tuscany, already was an impor­tant center in the ­Middle Ages.62 The trade in luxury items concentrated in the area known as the Cambium, at the heart of the quartiere of Porta Ravennate, not far from the h ­ ouse in which Salomone had grown up in the cappella of San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana. 63 It must have been in one of the Jewish shops in the Cambium that he first obtained some of the skills essential for a master goldsmith, namely, the weighing and assessing of precious materials.64 He was apparently able to do so before his late twenties, ­because in 1483 he was sent to estimate the value of the prized objects to be pawned against a loan to the bishop-­ elect of Mantua and coruler of Castel Goffredo, Ludovico Gonzaga

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(1460–1511). Ludovico assigned Salomone to Castel Goffredo in late 1483, together with the goldsmith Ermes Flavio de Bonis (fl. 1470–1503) of Padua, in order to compile an inventory of his valuables. 65 Despite a confrontation between Salomone and one of the bishop-­ elect’s officials, which Ermes Flavio ­later claimed to have sorted out himself, the list was compiled by December 30. Flavio’s letter to the bishop-­elect points to the resentment expressed by Ludovico’s commissary in Castel Goffredo t­ oward Jewish moneylending.66 This sentiment was evidently shared by the bishop, who only a few months ­later supported the attempts to establish a Monte di Pietà—­a charitable credit institution aimed at replacing Jewish usury, often (though not in this case) resulting in the expulsion of local Jews—in Mantua. 67 Thus, it seems that by late 1483 Salomone da Sesso was already active in the Mantovano region and was considered capable of estimating the value of precious objects, such as the prestigious collection of medals owned by the bishop-­elect. The ser­v ices that he provided to Ludovico Gonzaga ­were related to his ­family’s long-­standing engagement in moneylending and did not involve a­ ctual craftsmanship. Nonetheless, assaying the value of luxury items was a task often given to goldsmiths,68 so it is pos­si­ble that Salomone was selected for the job ­because he had already received some training in goldsmithing prior to 1483. It is certainly instructive that at this early stage in his c­ areer he was personally acquainted with the celebrated Christian goldsmith Ermes Flavio, also known as Lysippus the Younger, who produced some of the medals in Ludovico Gonzaga’s collection. 69 While neither Ermes Flavio’s letter of 1483 nor Ricca’s testament of 1485 identifies Salomone as a goldsmith, in 1487 he was already employed in this capacity in the ser­vice of Francesco Gonzaga (1466–1519), the Marquis of Mantua.70 We have no rec­ord of where he received the professional training required to become a goldsmith. He did not need to enter the workshop of a master goldsmith in order to learn how to value or weigh precious metals, as other apprentices did, ­because he had already acquired ­these skills in the shops operated by his Jewish acquaintances in Bologna. Still, he had to be taught the basics of drawing (disegno), in which he l­ater excelled, and also to be trained in operating a furnace, beating metal into shape, and working the burins and chisels



A M oneylender ’ s S on T urned G oldsmith

that ­were used for producing delicate incisions.71 This expertise could only be obtained through training with an established goldsmith. In the southern parts of the Italian Peninsula, where Salomone’s ­father had come from, metalwork was one of the most common Jewish crafts, and in the northern region of the Polesine, where his m ­ other, Ricca, had been born, some moneylenders obtained permission to work as goldsmiths.72 Jews also opened goldsmiths’ workshops in other Italian cities and towns, notably in Mantua, Ferrara, and Verona.73 Yet the situation in Bologna, whose guild regulations reflected the city’s ­earlier subordination to papal rule, was rather dif­fer­ent.74 Jews in Bologna w ­ ere not allowed to join any of the craft guilds,75 and even t­ hose who practiced specialized trades officially claimed to be used-­clothing dealers (strazzaroli).76 Hence, neither Salomone’s name nor that of any other Jewish goldsmith appears on the list of the men who matriculated in the goldsmiths’ guild in Re­nais­sance Bologna.77 That the luxury wares produced in this city before the fifteenth c­ entury ­were geared chiefly for the ecclesiastical market must have served to discourage local Jews from engaging in metalworking altogether, even informally.78 Evidence suggesting that Jews practiced goldsmithery in Bologna, although they could still not become masters of the craft, is available only for the second de­cade of the sixteenth ­century, when Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571) claimed to have worked in a goldsmith’s workshop in Bologna for a local Jew named Graziadio.79 It is therefore more likely that in the 1470s or early 1480s Salomone da Sesso left Bologna and received his practical training elsewhere.

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The Jewish W ­ idow’s Testament

T

established goldsmith attested in connection to Salomone prior to 1487 was Ermes Flavio de Bonis. Thus, it seems plausible to assume that the Jew had entered the workshop of this master goldsmith at some point.1 Ermes, who had resided in Mantua since the mid-1470s, was a highly acclaimed artist, working in the ser­vice not only of Bishop-­Elect Ludovico but also of Marquis Francesco Gonzaga.2 Even if Salomone did not acquire his professional training with Ermes, he must have done so at another workshop in Mantua or its vicinity, where Jews w ­ ere permitted to apprentice themselves to established goldsmiths. In ­those par­tic­u ­lar years, the territories of the duchy of Mantua attracted illustrious goldsmiths such as Ermes, who produced not only jewelry but also medals and other bronze objects, including oil lamps that w ­ ere inspired by an3 cient inscriptions, coins, and funerary sculpture. That the swords and gold medallions, medals, and fan h ­ andles Salomone would eventually produce w ­ ere likewise engraved with scenes and motifs influenced by ancient art and funerary monuments, as well as by classical my­thol­ogy and Roman history, lends support to the possibility that he had indeed been trained at a goldsmith’s workshop in the Mantovano region.4 HE ONLY

22



T he J ewish ­W idow ’ s T estament

In any case, the list of witnesses who certified the testament of Salomone’s m ­ other, Ricca, in 1485 also suggests that he had already achieved some kind of practical experience with metallurgical work while growing up in Bologna. Bolognese law required a priest and seven legally capable men who ­were not subject to the testator’s authority, excluding the notary, to act as witnesses at the dictation of a w ­ oman’s ­will. 5 Ricca’s testament lists one priest and eight other witnesses, all of whom ­were Catholic.6 Interestingly, three of ­those listed as attesting to Ricca’s testament ­were identified as “fabri seu magnani,” that is, as blacksmiths specializing in manufacturing small brass and copper objects, such as keys.7 ­These ­were Giovanni, the son of Stefano of Milan; Bartolomeo, son of the late Ambrogio of Milan; and Ambrogio, son of the late Pietro of Milan, all residing in the parish of San Donato in the quartiere of Porta Piera. 8 The names of their f­ athers indicate that the three ­were not full ­brothers, nor w ­ ere they f­ ather and sons, though the fact that they w ­ ere all given the toponym “of Milan” suggests that they may have been other­wise related.9 In the second half of the Quattrocento, Milan was a major center of the metallurgical arts, and smiths who ­were trained ­there frequently sought work in Bologna or in other Italian cities.10 Although blacksmiths did not work with gold, silver, or gems and ­were not members of the wealthy elite to which master goldsmiths often belonged, as workers in the metallurgical arts the two professional groups had much in common. In northern Italy, goldsmiths regularly worked with nonprecious materials, producing kitchen utensils and other small objects from metals that w ­ ere also used by blacksmiths.11 They also sometimes belonged to the same professional corporation as blacksmiths.12 Bolognese goldsmiths had already split from the blacksmiths’ guild to form a separate corporation by 1302; nonetheless, all smiths in the city regarded St. Eligius (Sant’Eligio), locally known as St. Alò, as their patron saint.13 According to medieval hagiographies, St. Eligius had begun his ­career as a blacksmith only to become a renowned goldsmith ­later in life.14 The path of the Jewish goldsmith Salomone da Sesso may have paralleled that of St. Eligius. Salomone was apparently acquainted with at least three blacksmiths, all of whom resided in the parish of San Donato, close to his ­family residence in San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana. It was perhaps in their workshop(s), then, that he first witnessed the

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production of metalwork.15 Smiths’ workshops always opened to the street, and their forging of metal was vis­i­ble to passersby, occasionally attracting the fascinated admiration of teenage boys.16 In fifteenth-­century Italy, an urban neighborhood oriented ­toward craft-­industrial production was the most favorable environment in which an artist could grow up. Quite a few Re­nais­sance artists w ­ ere raised in an artisan ambience, and in many cases ­those who ­were already exposed to a craft such as smithery during their childhood or adolescence ­later mastered an art involving work in similar materials, such as silver-­and goldsmithery.17 Regularly passing by the blacksmiths’ workshops that ­were located close to his home, Salomone prob­ably got his first hands-on experience of the metallurgical arts at the furnace of one of his neighbors in the Bolognese parish of San Donato, before entering into a formal apprenticeship at the workshop of Ermes Flavio or of another master goldsmith in the Mantovano region. A close reading of the last w ­ ill of Salomone’s ­mother reveals more than the ­family’s contacts with local blacksmiths. Ricca’s testament was dictated in the presence of Bartolomeo, the parish priest of the cappella of San Bartolomeo in Bologna, who affirmed that he recognized the testator to be healthy in mind.18 The two other principal witnesses to the lucidity of the Jewish w ­ idow w ­ ere Ludovico, son of the late Ser Antonio, from the parish of San Michele dei Leprosetti that adjoined Ricca’s home parish, and Antonio, son of the late Raffaele, from the parish of San Sigismondo, to the northeast of San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana. Of the other six witnesses, five lived in the nearby parish of San Donato: Jacopo, the son of Battista; Giovanbattista, son of the late Bartolomeo; and the three blacksmiths Stefano, Ambrogio, and Bartolomeo of Milan. A ninth witness, Antonio, son of the late Cristoforo, is identified as a resident of the more distant parish of Sant’Andrea degli Ansaldi. A Bolognese testator’s neighborhood was generally composed of up to three parishes contiguous with her or his home parish; that seven of the nine witnesses to Ricca’s testament lived in her neighborhood attests to her ­family’s ties with their Christian neighbors.19 Although we do not know the year of Ricca’s birth, the fact that she was betrothed to Mele da Sessa in 1447 suggests that she had been born around 1430, ­because Jewish girls from well-­off families ­were often married in their ­middle to late teens.20 Thus, Ricca would have been in her



T he J ewish ­W idow ’ s T estament

fifties at the time she had her last ­will redacted. The principal witnesses declared that in September 1485 she was healthy, but we know that she died within the next four years, ­because by August 1489 her son and her son-­i n-­law ­were already disputing her inheritance. Ricca may have felt that her health was deteriorating already in 1485, or perhaps she simply assumed that she was nearing the end of her life, as did other healthy testators across Eu­rope.21 The man Ricca hired for the job of drafting her ­will was Ser Matteo, the son of Astorgio Curialti of Tossignano. An experienced notary who filled high positions in the Bolognese notaries’ guild, Matteo Curialti regularly worked in the ser­vice of local Jews.22 He came to Ricca’s home, as was often the case when Jewish w ­ omen wanted to have their testaments drafted, but also whenever an el­derly Jewish testator, e­ ither female or male, wished to do so.23 Fifteenth-­century Jewish ­widows typically set aside sums for charitable purposes, but Ricca did not.24 Moreover, whereas in his last ­w ill of 1459 her husband, Mele, had left generous bequests both for impoverished Jews and for dowering orphaned Jewish girls, 25 in 1485 Ricca did not allot even a small portion of her estate to the needy. Thus, Ricca’s testament suggests a decline in her ­family’s financial standing in the de­cades following Mele’s demise, which did not enable his ­widow to follow the accepted practice of leaving designated sums for charity. If the ­family’s economic situation indeed deteriorated in ­those years, this may have resulted, at least in part, from Salomone’s incurrence of substantial debts, which his ­mother covered. Ricca’s testament lists her son’s debts, which included the payment of loans taken from the most prominent Bolognese Jewish bankers of the late Quattrocento, Ventura, the son of Museto “de Porta,” and David, son of the late Joseph di Ventura.26 Ventura, whose ­father, Museto di Ventura, had offered hospitality to Ricca’s brother-­in-­law in 1458, owned a bank in the Bolognese quarter of Porta Nuova whereas David, the son of Joseph and grand­son of the abovementioned Ventura, was in charge of the impor­tant bank known as the “Banco ‘de Porta,’ ” previously owned by his grand­father.27 Ricca’s testament also mentions the sums that Salomone owed a certain Manuele the Greek, who conducted business with the Jew Lazzaro (d. c. 1496), son of Emanuele di Bonaventura.28 Emanuele had been a friend and business

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associate of Salomone’s ­father, Mele, and ­a fter his death acted as Ricca’s ­legal guardian (mundualdus) in Florence. 29 Together with the interest to be paid for the vari­ous loans that Salomone had taken, the sums that his ­mother already paid for his debts totaled over 273 ducats: more than the original value of the dowry that Ricca had brought with her or that which her husband, Mele, had provided for their d ­ aughter Pinta. Ricca stipulated that she absolved Salomone of existing debts that he owed her for having paid back all of ­these loans and relieved him of the obligation to repay her heirs any additional debts that he would incur and that she would cover prior to her demise. Yet, having already used up more than 273 ducats of her estate, he should have no claims to any other part of Ricca’s legacy. 30 Debt gets racked up somewhere. In Salomone’s case, could this have happened in places of ill repute? His recurrent inability to repay his loans, which we ­shall return to ­later, may hint at a penchant for the illicit pleasures found in taverns and inns, where men in Re­nais­sance Italy drank, gambled, and sought out sex with ­either ­women or men. 31 Although Jewish law permitted playing games of chance only at designated times, notably during the holidays of Hanukkah and Purim, Jews in central and northern Italy gambled on other occasions as well, sometimes losing substantial sums. 32 That Jews in Bologna did not desist from gambling is attested in an undated missive that Isac “Thodesco” drafted in the late fifteenth c­ entury, describing his recent loss of fifty-­one scudi to a fellow Jew while gambling in Bologna. 33 Another one of Salomone’s Jewish contemporaries, Abramo Tusolo di Mandolino of Ferrara, attained such notoriety as a gambler that he was dubbed “Abramo the card player” and eventually received permission to run a gaming hall in Mantua that welcomed Jews and Christians alike. 34 ­A fter settling in Ferrara, Salomone had dealings with Abramo and, according to a dispatch that the latter sent the Marquis of Mantua in 1493, was even interrogated about an unidentified offense in which “the card player” had been involved. 35 Salomone’s documented ties with the best-­known Jewish gambler of fifteenth-­century Ferrara might point to his own predilection for games of chance. Such an inclination would explain not only the debts that Salomone had already incurred while residing in Bologna but also Ricca’s reluctance to have him inherit her money.



T he J ewish ­W idow ’ s T estament

What­ever the reasons for his heavy debts, Salomone relied on his ­mother to save his neck. But with the goldsmith himself a married man and the ­father of two ­children, Ricca was apparently worried about his recklessness. So, departing from accepted practice in Bologna and elsewhere, in which the living son of a testator would be named the parent’s primary heir, 36 Ricca did not designate Salomone as her universal heir (the individual who is in charge of the inheritance but who may also be obligated to divide it). Rather, she declared that his son Graziadio, who in 1485 was only three years old, together with any ­f uture legitimate male offspring of Salomone, should succeed her “universally.” Other Jewish parents who disapproved of their sons’ conduct in this period similarly refrained from naming them as their universal heirs or resorted to other mea­sures to protect their estates. 37 Ricca specified that her inheritance should be equally divided among all of Salomone’s legitimate male descendants, and should one or more of his sons die in infancy, his share be distributed among Salomone’s living male ­children and grandchildren.38 U ­ nder no circumstances, however, would his share of the inheritance pass to the ­family of Ricca’s own d ­ aughter, Pinta. Mele had already provided a dowry for her, and Ricca followed the accepted practice of excluding ­d aughters from the ­family’s patrimony ­a fter their reception of a dowry. The laws of intestacy in Bologna insisted on the passing of the parent’s patrimony down to sons (and their sons), but some testators made ­wills precisely in order to ­favor their female relatives ­because of peculiar ­family circumstances or personal affections. Albeit rare, the option of naming female heirs was not unheard of, both in fifteenth-­century Bologna and among Jews in northern Italy. 39 Yet Ricca, despite her qualms about her only surviving son, stipulated that the patrimony be passed exclusively to her son’s male descendants. Neither Salomone’s ­sister, Pinta, nor his firstborn child, a ­d aughter who in 1485 was six years old and who would end her life as the Dominican nun S ­ ister Theodora, is mentioned in Ricca’s testament. The only known document to be drafted at the instigation of a ­woman related to Salomone prior to his conversion to Chris­tian­ity, his ­mother’s testament reveals in­ter­est­i ng aspects of the goldsmith’s financial standing while leaving his d ­ aughter, his ­sister, and all his other female relatives shrouded in obscurity. What constitutes a frustrating silence for the historian

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reflects the unswerving commitment of many fifteenth-­century ­women of the propertied classes to patrilineal ideology—on which the ius commune and the Jews’ halachic law coincided.40 As her last w ­ ill makes patent, Ricca, the d ­ aughter of a well-­off Jewish ­family who married a successful moneylender, fully adhered to the patriarchal norms that prevailed among members of the upper classes in both Jewish and Christian society of the Quattrocento, valuing the preservation of the patriline above all other considerations. Not long ­a fter his ­mother dictated her ­w ill, Salomone sought out work opportunities in Mantua, while his wife and ­children stayed ­behind in Bologna.41 Whereas in the city in which he grew up most goldsmiths ­were both Christian and native-­born, the Gonzaga rulers of Mantua welcomed foreign goldsmiths and favored Jews’ practice of this trade.42 The goldsmith’s craft was the third branch of the economy of Mantuan Jews to develop, ­a fter banking and the trade in used clothes, and goldsmiths numbered among the city’s wealthiest Jews, alongside silk merchants and bankers. The workshops of Jewish goldsmiths ­were located on the same street in which their Christian counter­parts had their shops. Despite the hostility of their Catholic rivals, which was first manifested in 1438, Mantuan Jews continued to excel in goldsmithery throughout the early modern era.43 Jewish goldsmiths found regular employment at the Gonzaga court, where they ­were prized as jewelers rather than as producers of gold or silver wares. Of all the Jewish goldsmiths known to have worked for Mantua’s rulers, Salomone da Sesso became the most renowned.44 His extraordinary talent attracted the attention of Marquis Francesco Gonzaga, who by 1487 employed Salomone in his ser­vice.45 The gifted Jew did not create works only for the marquis, though; he also traveled to Ferrara, arousing the admiration of members of its ducal court. In November of that year, “Salamone da Saso [sic], the Jewish goldsmith,” was producing works for Eleonora of Aragon (1450–1493), the Duchess of Ferrara, as well.46 On December 4, 1487, Ferrarese ducal officials paid for the goldsmith’s stay at the hostelry run by a certain Leone the Jew. The registers of the Ducal Chamber (Camera Ducale), which was responsible for making the payments required for covering the daily expenses incurred by the duke and his court,47 rec­ord the sum of eight lire marchesane and



T he J ewish ­W idow ’ s T estament

eight soldi paid to “Leone the Jew, hosteler,” for the room and board of “Salomone the Jew, goldsmith of the illustrious Marquis of Mantua.” 48 Leone, who ran the hostelry ­behind Via del Paradiso, was paid three soldi for each of the forty-­eight meals that Salomone had eaten at his establishment, in addition to two lire and four soldi that he received for lodging the goldsmith.49 The hostelry in which Salomone stayed was located on San Giacomo Street (nowadays called Via Carbone) just ­behind Via del Paradiso, one of the main areas of Jewish settlement in fifteenth-­century Ferrara. 50 Commonly known as the “hostelry of the Jews” (osteria degli ebrei), it was operated by Leone, son of the late David (son of Leone) of Argenta. Leone succeeded his f­ ather, who in 1476 rented a h ­ ouse that was to serve as both a hostelry and a gambling establishment for the Jews in Ferrara. 51 Indeed, although hostelries for Jews in Italian cities enabled them to eat kosher meals while away from home, Jewish osterie usually doubled as gaming halls. Like taverns operated by Christians, they w ­ ere often also sites of illicit activity. 52 The forty-­eight meals that Salomone ate at Leone’s osteria during his stay in Ferrara attest to the importance that the goldsmith ascribed to observing the Jewish dietary laws. Access to meat slaughtered in keeping with halachic requirements was a prerequisite for Jewish settlement in the towns of central and northern Italy, and in the fifteenth c­ entury keeping the basic requirements of Jewish dietary law constituted a primary marker of Jewish identity. 53 Lodging in the osteria degli ebrei enabled Salomone to interact with other Jews, but unlike all the other foreign Jews who ­were staying at Leone’s hostelry at that time, he had his room and board paid for by the Camera Ducale, a fact that reflects the esteem in which his artistic talent was held at the ducal court. 54 The ledger recording the payment for Salomone’s meals suggests that a gifted Jew in the fifteenth ­century could pursue a successful artistic ­career without having to compromise his religious beliefs. 55 Perhaps, however, we are viewing only a partial picture.56 The reversal of Salomone’s fortunes just a few years ­later, as delineated in the following chapters, certainly problematizes this idealized portrayal of Jewish-­ Christian relations in the princely states of Re­nais­sance Italy.

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CHAPTER THREE

Eleonora of Aragon’s Court Goldsmith

S

c­ areer in goldsmithery certainly appeared auspicious. He arrived in Ferrara three years ­a fter the demise of Amadio Riva of Milan (fl. 1437–­c. 1484), who had settled in the city around the early 1440s and worked as court goldsmith to its Este rulers for more than forty years. Having trained his sons in the goldsmiths’ craft, Amadio established a venerable artistic dynasty.1 Like this celebrated Christian goldsmith, Salomone da Sesso was to stay in Ferrara for several de­cades, build an artistic dynasty t­ here, and work for members of the extended ducal ­family, who remained his primary employers for more than thirty years. Chief among Salomone’s ducal patrons from 1487 ­until her death in 1493 was Duchess Eleonora of Aragon, who used to refer to him in her letters as “her goldsmith.”2 Although he was not the only goldsmith in her ser­vice, Salomone the Jew soon became known as Eleonora’s favorite goldsmith. 3 Eleonora’s Ferrarese court was characterized by a marked cosmopolitanism,4 and she evidently had no qualms about employing an accomplished Jewish artist whose origins lay far from Ferrara. 5 Quite a few Re­nais­sance artists ­were the sons of artists. Yet, along with other ALOMONE’S EARLY

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E leonora of A ragon ’ s C ourt G oldsmith

major innovators in the visual arts, Salomone was a quin­tes­sen­tial outsider. Not a single one of his ancestors had engaged in goldsmithery. A foreigner with l­ ittle reason to identify with local stylistic traditions, Salomone contributed considerably to new artistic trends.6 Like other artists in the Este employ, court goldsmiths enjoyed certain benefits—­notably, the payment of a regular salary that did not depend on specific commissions from their princely patrons.7 This kind of employment was particularly fortuitous for a goldsmith at the early stages of his ­career, and by November 21, 1487 it ensured Salomone a stable income. 8 Thus, the goldsmith subsequently resolved to move to Ferrara with his wife and ­children. While in a notarial document of August 21, 1489, he was still identified as a resident of Bologna who was only temporarily staying in Ferrara, in a document of December 17 of that year Salomone was already designated as a Jew who resided in Ferrara, indicating that his ­family had relocated to the city sometime between ­t hese two dates.9 The nomadism of Salomone—­t he son of a banker originating in southern Italy and of a ­mother from the northern town of Lendinara— who was born in Florence, grew up in Bologna, worked in Castel Goffredo and Mantua and fi­nally settled in Ferrara, is emblematic of the Jewish presence in Quattrocento Italy.10 That the goldsmith ultimately chose Ferrara as his home base reflected the Este rulers’ traditional protection of Jews in this city, in which Salomone’s maternal grand­father had already conducted business in the m ­ iddle de­cades of the ­century.11 This decision was also related to Ferrara’s standing as a leading center of Re­nais­sance culture. Following the ascension to the ducal throne of Ercole d’Este (1431– 1505) in 1471, Ferrara boasted cutting-­edge artistic activity. Its vibrant cultural scene was driven by the foreign artists, architects, poets, and musicians who worked for the ducal court alongside their local counter­ parts. It was also enriched by the Hebrew and Arabic learning of the Jews that Ercole welcomed to his ducal capital.12 In 1473, Ercole backed Jewish families in Ferrara in opposing the papacy’s demands, and in 1481 he authorized the establishment of the first permanent synagogue in the city. When Salomone first arrived ­there in 1487, Ferrara’s medium-­sized Jewish community enjoyed exceptionally good relations with the duke and his kin.13

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Fig.  4. ​Bridal casket (cofanetto), by a Jewish artist from northern Italy (possibly by Jeshurun Tovar). Second half of the fifteenth ­century. Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Accession number B51.04.0207 131 / 030. Photo © Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Yoram Lehmann. Reproduced with permission.

The Jews in Ferrara, like their Mantuan peers, w ­ ere allowed to publicly practice goldsmithery. Some of them specialized in Jewish ceremonial art. Shortly a­ fter Salomone’s arrival in Ferrara, a silver Torah pointer, dated 1488, was produced in this city.14 A silver cofanetto (bridal casket), now at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, is also believed to have been crafted in Ferrara during Ercole d’Este’s reign, by a goldsmith named Jeshurun Tovar (or Tober).15 Commissioned for a Jewish bride, the cofanetto’s nielloed front panel shows the three commandments incumbent upon all Jewish w ­ omen: immersion in the ritual bath, the separation of dough while making challah bread, and kindling the Sabbath lights.16 Whereas the goldsmiths who forged the Torah pointer and the cofanetto worked for Jewish patrons, Salomone da Sesso was employed exclusively by members of the Christian elite. He specialized in making jewelry and other fash­ion­able, high-­end luxury goods.17 Extravagant items of the kind that he molded—­from gold buttons to gold-­covered pomanders, hat badges, gold-­handled fans, bejeweled sables, gold bracelets and chains, and engraved swords—­assumed an unpre­ce­dented importance in



E leonora of A ragon ’ s C ourt G oldsmith

early modern Eu­ro­pean courts, where they ­were used as vehicles for conveying social, po­ liti­ cal, and cultural values.18 Commissioned and donned by the rich and power­f ul, objects of this kind are still preserved in museums, and we can also find them featured in portraits and other paintings.19 Yet, while he was actively occupied in creating the dazzling material culture of Italian courts that continues to impress modern museum visitors and scholars alike, Salomone himself strug­gled to make ends meet. Having already accumulated serious debt by 1485, once he began working as a goldsmith in Ferrara Salomone had to obtain the substantial capital required for renting a workshop and purchasing equipment and the costly raw materials needed for his trade.20 ­These led him to seek additional loans from his Jewish relatives. B ­ ecause both his m ­ other and his s­ ister, Pinta, ­were dead by 1489, 21 on March 31 he turned for help to Pinta’s son Museto, who worked as a moneylender in the nearby town of San Felice, which formed part of the Este domain. 22 Museto agreed to lend his u ­ ncle twenty-­three gold ducats at no interest, “out of pure friendship,” and Salomone promised to pay the money back upon request.23 Salomone’s warm relations with his s­ ister’s ­family cooled ­later that year, when the goldsmith attempted to gain hold of the patrimony of his recently deceased ­mother, claiming to be acting on behalf of his sons, Graziadio and the infant Joseph, who had been named as Ricca’s universal heirs in the ­will that she had dictated in 1485. Salomone’s brother-­in-­law Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, who had served as Ricca’s procuratore ­ a fter Mele’s death and who evidently continued to manage her financial affairs ­a fter her relocation to Bologna, refused to pass the share of Graziadio and Joseph to their f­ ather.24 In light of Salomone’s accumulation of debt, as underscored in Ricca’s testament, Angelo may have feared that Salomone would make short work of the money. The brothers-­in-­law also failed to reach an agreement about their respective share in the gains of some business that they had conducted together in the past. As was customary in disputes among relatives, they called in arbitrators to end the conflict and avoid a scandal. 25 On August 21, 1489, Salomone da Sesso and Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio consented to abide by the decision of three arbitrators: Graziadio, the son of Angelo of Monselice, currently living in Brescello; Liucio (or

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Leucio), the son of Museto from Revere; and Manuele, the son of Noè di Manuele di Salomone Norsa. 26 Manuele Norsa, the most power­f ul Jewish banker in Ferrara in ­t hose years, was the great-­g randson of Salomone di Manuele da Norsa, who in the mid-­Quattrocento had managed a pawnshop in Padua together with Salomone da Sesso’s maternal grand­father, Joseph Finzi. In 1454, Salomone di Manuele da Norsa also entered into partnership with Salomone da Sesso’s f­ather, Mele, and his business partners, for r­ unning the bank known as the Banco della Vacca in Florence.27 Manuele Norsa and the other two arbitrators favored Salomone’s receipt of 100 florins from his brother-­in-­law on August 21, but their attempts to resolve the dispute between the two proved unsuccessful.28 On December 17, 1489, the goldsmith and his late s­ ister’s husband appeared before the judges of the commune of Ferrara, who decreed that Angelo should pay Salomone 350 ducats—­a considerable sum, if we keep in mind that the home of the famous painter Andrea Mantegna (c. 1431–1506) in nearby Mantua was valued at 340 ducats around that time.29 Of the 350 ducats, 300 ­were to be paid ­a fter March 15, 1490, upon Salomone’s request, for the ­future use of his sons. Tellingly, though, the money was not to be placed in the goldsmith’s hands but rather in t­ hose of a trustworthy man who would ensure that it would be given to Graziadio and Joseph when t­ hese minors reached maturity. A ­later notarial act indicates that the Jew who was designated to keep the money was no other than Manuele Norsa.30 The rest of the sum, namely, 50 ducats, was to be provided by March 14, 1489, and saved up for the dowry of Salomone’s firstborn d ­ aughter. 31 The Ferrarese notary Giacobo Vincenzi did not rec­ord the name of Salomone’s eldest child, who would ­later receive the baptismal name Caterina and end her life as ­Sister Theodora. Born in 1479, by the time Vincenzi drafted this notarial act she was ten years of age. 32 Jewish ­fathers began worrying about amassing the sum required for marrying off their ­daughters not long ­a fter their births, so it is not surprising that Salomone, too, wished to ensure a minimal amount for his d ­ aughter’s 33 dowry. Considerably smaller than the dowries of 200 ducats or 200 florins that his ­mother and his ­sister, Pinta, had received ­earlier in the fifteenth ­century,34 the sum of 50 ducats was below the average required for the dowry of a d ­ aughter of a respectable Jewish craftsman. In fact, the



E leonora of A ragon ’ s C ourt G oldsmith

amount corresponded to the minimum sum allocated by Christian confraternities in charge of providing the dowries for impoverished girls. 35 While Salomone was busy disputing his m ­ other’s inheritance and striving to secure a dowry for his d ­ aughter, he never ceased to produce luxury items for the Duchess of Ferrara. In 1490, the goldsmith prepared for her “a gold cord [­belt] made with knots in the style of St. Francis.”36 Such ­belts, made of gold thread and adorned with intricately tied knots resembling ­those on the Franciscan cord, became fash­ion­able during the latter part of the Quattrocento. 37 In the ducal registers, the gold given to “Salomone the Jew” for Eleonora’s ­belt was recorded alongside that consigned to “Master Giacomino,” who was to forge a chain for the duchess. 38 Master Giacomino, better known as Giacomino of Cremona (fl. 1486–1496), was one of the busiest goldsmiths in Ferrara at the close of the fifteenth c­ entury. Like Salomone da Sesso, he was employed as a court goldsmith and executed numerous commissions for Eleonora of Aragon. 39 The duchess spent similar sums on her commissions from Salomone and Giacomino, but, tellingly, the latter was designated in the ducal registers as a master goldsmith while the former was identified solely as “Salomone the Jew.” Salomone’s Jewishness barred him from receiving the honorific “Master,” which marked a goldsmith’s attainment of a certain level of skill and intellectual aptitude, as well as a desired social status. Indicating that a goldsmith was an expert in his craft, the appellation of “Master” attested to the prestigious professional standing of Giacomino and his Christian counter­parts.40 ­Because Jewish presence was tolerated in Christian lands only insofar as Jews maintained their inferior status, they ­were not to be addressed with honorific titles such as “Master” that implied their superiority over their Christian clients.41 Thus, as the ducal registers recording the commissions of Eleonora’s court goldsmiths indicate, as long as Salomone remained a Jew, his otherness was the defining aspect of his identity—­notwithstanding the notable fame that he attained as a gifted artist.

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CHAPTER FOUR

A Murdered Child

F

February 1490 of Isabella d’Este (1474– 1539), ­daughter of Duchess Eleonora and Duke Ercole, to Marquis Francesco Gonzaga, Salomone, along with other select court employees, accompanied the young marchioness to Mantua. Isabella had learned the art of letter writing at a young age and upon arriving in Mantua began generating both official and personal correspondence, continuing to do so unceasingly u ­ ntil her death more than forty years l­ ater.1 It is through the missives that she sent and received that much of the information about the dramatic vicissitudes in Salomone’s life may be gleaned.2 Thus, we know that on March 12, 1490, Eleonora wrote to Isabella, asking her to send “the Jewish goldsmith” back to Ferrara as soon as pos­si­ble, so that he could resume providing his much-­needed ser­vices to the duchess.3 As her court goldsmith, Salomone worked on a schedule that was dictated by Eleonora’s demands, which took priority over his obligations to other patrons, including her ­daughter.4 When Salomone was still not back at work on her commissions eight days l­ ater, the duchess turned to her ­daughter again to inquire about his whereabouts. Isabella responded on March 24, remarking that as Salomone had already departed from OLLOWING THE MARRIAGE IN

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A M urdered C hild

Mantua more than twenty days e­ arlier, she trusted that he was already back at Eleonora’s court. 5 Salomone certainly had to return to Ferrara by mid-­March, to make sure that Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio handed over the 50 ducats for his ­daughter’s dowry and deposited the 300 ducats for his minor sons with Manuele Norsa.6 Having left Mantua by the first week of March, it seems likely that Salomone devoted his time to resolving his financial issues with his brother-­in-­law before resuming his work for the Duchess of Ferrara. On March 25, Eleonora informed her ­d aughter that the Jew had indeed been back in Ferrara for quite some time, so nothing ­else needed to be done about him.7 Salomone took up his commissions for the duchess, but by early 1491 he was already back in Mantua, where he carried out work for his former employer, Francesco Gonzaga. In March 1491, while the marquis was absent from Mantua, he instructed his massaro generale (chief financial official) to tell Isabella to exempt Salomone and three of the garzoni (assistants) who ­were working for him from the curfew that she was to impose on the Jews for the Holy Week.8 Successful goldsmiths routinely hired garzoni, in addition to employing apprentices, who ­were still learning the craft. The garzoni—­they ­were referred to as “boys,” irrespective of their age—­were charged with secondary tasks such as casting and transferring, or pumping the furnace’s bellows.9 On March 22, Isabella assured her consort that she had issued the “usual proclamation regarding the Jews for the Holy Week,” which forbade the Jewish residents of Mantua to leave their homes, exempting solely Salomone and his three Jewish assistants, as the marquis requested.10 The princely rulers of central and northern Italy habitually imposed a curfew on their Jewish subjects just before and during Easter—­ when zealous preachers, emphasizing Jewish responsibility for Christ’s Passion and Crucifixion in their sermons, often incited vio­lence against the Jews. Just a year e­ arlier, in 1490, Jews w ­ ere physically attacked during 11 such an Eastertime riot in Mantua. Although the confinement of Jews to their homes during Holy Week somewhat helped to prevent the escalation of anti-­Jewish vio­lence,12 it seriously interrupted the Jews’ working routine and thus had serious economic implications. Just a few days a­ fter Isabella’s exemption of Salomone from the restriction of the Jews in Mantua to their homes, their coreligionists in Fer-

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rara protested to her ­father, Ercole d’Este, that the imminent curfew threatened their livelihood.13 The confinement, they explained, harmed not only poor Jewish peddlers but also the wealthier moneylenders, ­because respectable Christians—­embarrassed to be seen coming to their homes to receive a loan—­would refrain from ­doing so.14 The Jews complained that Duke Ercole’s decision to prolong their confinement reflected the incitement of the Augustinian preacher Mariano da Genazzano (d. 1498),15 who delivered the Lent cycle in Ferrara’s cathedral and was known for his opposition to Jewish moneylending.16 ­W hether or not Isabella d’Este was aware of her ­father’s decision to harden the terms of the curfew for the Ferrarese Jews when she issued the Holy Week ordinance concerning Mantua’s Jewry, her letter to her consort of March 22 indicates that she had other prob­lems to worry about at that time. As she informed Francesco Gonzaga, on that very morning a bloody and mutilated corpse of a recently murdered baby girl was discovered near the gate of Petrofrancesco Benaduso’s ­house.17 Describing the case as abominable, Isabella noted that it upset the subjects of Mantua and asked Francesco to order its public investigation.18 Isabella did not explic­itly mention the suspects who w ­ ere held responsible for the horrendous crime, but as Ronnie Po-­chia Hsia observes, to many Christians in the late fifteenth ­century “the discovery of murdered ­children furnished the material evidence necessary to convict the Jews.”19 This was especially true in northern Italy in the de­cades following the condemnation of the Jews of Trent for the alleged murder of the child Simon Unferborben (or Viendorpen) in 1475, which heightened suspicions of Jewish involvement in similar transgressions whenever a murdered infant’s corpse was discovered.20 The finding of the Mantuan baby’s body during Lent and shortly before Passover, when the Jews w ­ ere believed to be using the blood of murdered Christian c­ hildren to prepare their unleavened bread, enhanced the credibility of such suspicions. Isabella’s letter of March 22, which began with reporting the finding of a l­ ittle girl’s corpse, ended with a mention of the general confinement of the Jews in Mantua—­with the exception of Salomone and his assistants— to their homes.21 This conjunction suggests that Mantua’s Jews may have been initially suspected of being involved in the girl’s murder. Although blood libels usually broke out following the discovery of dead prepubescent boys, c­ hildren of all ages and of both sexes ­were identified as



A M urdered C hild

potential victims of Jewish ritual murder. The finding of murdered Christian girls triggered blood libels on several occasions, notably in Boppard in 1179 and in Pforzheim (in Baden) in 1267.22 In 1442 in Lienz (in the Tyrol), Jews ­were accused of having murdered the three-­year-­old girl Ursula Pöck, whose cult became closely associated with that of the “holy child” Simon a­ fter the discovery of his corpse in Trent in 1475. 23 News of Simon’s alleged murder immediately spread to Mantua, and in 1478 a local c­ ouple claimed that Jews had abducted their son for religious purposes.24 The boy was eventually found alive, but anxiety over a repetition of the crime believed to have been committed in Trent continued to loom large in Mantua, where Simon’s cult flourished throughout the 1480s.25 Francesco Gonzaga, who in 1487 undertook a pilgrimage to Simon’s shrine in Trent, was acutely aware of the explosive potential of the discovery of a child’s corpse shortly before Easter, when anti-­Jewish resentment usually peaked.26 On March 26, he wrote to his consort, affirming that the perpetrator of the atrocity in Mantua should be tracked down and punished, and authorizing Isabella to order its careful investigation. He concluded by praising the marchesa for having made the provisions pertaining to Mantua’s Jews for the Holy Week.27 No further documentation pertaining to the girl, the circumstances of her death, or the inquiry that the marchioness planned to initiate has been uncovered thus far.28 Interestingly, though, one of the letters that ­were sent to Isabella from Ferrara on October 10, 1491, reporting Salomone da Sesso’s baptism ceremony, mentions a miracle pertaining to a ­little girl that occurred in Mantua. In this missive Bernardino de’ Prosperi (d. 1528), Isabella’s trusted correspondent, informed her that Salomone delivered a speech in Ferrara’s cathedral explaining the reasons that led him to convert, and having established this, “at the end he recounted the miracle that occurred in Mantua, of that Jewish girl [puta].”29 Strikingly, another account of this public address, which Francesco da Bagnacavallo (fl. 1489–1497) sent Isabella on the same day, also referred to Salomone’s mention of both a miracle and a child while explaining his decision to convert. According to Bagnacavallo, however, the child was a boy, and he did not designate the child as Jewish.30 Bagnacavallo’s description of the conversion ceremony is more detailed than Prosperi’s, and he informed Isabella of Salomone’s affirmation “that he was hated by the Jews of Mantua ­because of that miracle of our glorious

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Lady in that boy [puto] who had died e­ arlier, as Your Ladyship is well informed.”31 Two additional pieces of correspondence from October 1491 narrate the contents of Salomone’s oration, but they mention neither his allusion to a miracle nor that to a child. Thus, we are left with two incompatible sources that point to the events leading to Salomone’s conversion: one noting a miracle that purportedly occurred in Mantua and had to do with a Jewish girl, and another referring to a Marian miracle related to the death of a boy. As both Bernardino de’ Prosperi and Francesco da Bagnacavallo recounted what they heard while attending Salomone’s baptism ceremony in Ferrara’s cathedral, it is obvious that one of them misheard the goldsmith’s oration, confusing the word for female child (puta) with that designating a male child (puto).32 Still, both letter writers evidently understood that a miracle having to do with a child, which had taken place in Mantua—­a nd so Isabella must have been informed about it—­was somehow linked to Salomone’s resolution to convert, as he publicly asserted in his baptismal oration. Bagnacavallo characterized the miracle pertaining to a dead child, which Salomone had mentioned in his baptismal oration, as a Marian miracle. The Virgin’s miraculous powers w ­ ere indeed often associated in narratives of Jewish conversion with the Jews’ realization of their supposed errors and their subsequent resolution to embrace Chris­tian­ity. 33 Moreover, the figure of Mary—­the ­mother who lamented the death of her son—­a lso traditionally figured in stories focusing on the Jews’ attempts to murder innocent ­children. 34 Tales such as the one about a Jewish boy in Bourges, who was saved by the Virgin a­ fter his ­father threw him into the oven b ­ ecause he had received communion, circulated throughout Eu­ rope. So did stories such as that of a Christian boy who was singing a Marian hymn while his throat was slit by a Jew, yet Mary miraculously enabled the sound to come out of it. Such narratives showcased the role played by Christ’s m ­ other in exposing Jewish attacks on innocent ­children, be they Jewish boys who pledged allegiance to Chris­t ian­ity or Christian ­children who ­were particularly devoted to the Virgin. They featured in late medieval sermons and prayer books, as well as in the Songs of Saint Mary (Cantigas de Santa Maria) and in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.35 In the Italian Peninsula, they also made their way into



A M urdered C hild

frescoes, notably into that by Ugolino di Prete Ilario (d. 1404) in Orvieto’s cathedral. 36 Hence, it is no surprise that Salomone inserted an allusion to the Virgin Mary into his conversionary oration, as Bagnacavallo contends. Nonetheless, the mention of a girl in Prosperi’s account and the agreement of both correspondents on the Mantuan setting of the miracle to which Salomone referred suggest that it may have been related to the recent discovery of a murdered girl in Mantua. This part of Salomone’s public speech was omitted from Eleonora of Aragon’s report of his conversionary ceremony, which was addressed to her consort, indicating that it did not reflect the instructions that Salomone had received prior to his baptism. Rather, the goldsmith himself seems to have added this point when he formulated the speech that he was required to deliver. 37 Although Francesco da Bagnacavallo occasionally acted as Isabella d’Este’s agent in Ferrara, Bernardino de’ Prosperi, one of Ercole d’Este’s chancellors (cancellieri), had closer ties with her. 38 Just a few days e­ arlier, Isabella praised Bernardino for the information that he had sent her from Ferrara, urging him to continue supplying her with detailed accounts of what tran­spired in her home city. 39 Prosperi was prob­ably aware of Isabella’s initiation of an investigation into the infant’s murder in late March, whereas Bagnacavallo may not have known about the discovery of the girl’s corpse. Hence, since most of the cases in which Jews ­were accused of murdering ­children involved boys rather than girls, Bagnacavallo may have assumed that what Salomone meant to designate was a dead male child (puto), even if the word that he uttered sounded more like puta. Examined together with Isabella d’Este’s dispatch of March 22, the missives that Prosperi and Bagnacavallo sent on October 10, 1491, point to the possibility that the finding of a child’s corpse in Mantua might have provoked the turn of events that would result in Salomone’s baptism. Prosperi’s letter suggests that the investigation of the girl’s murder led to the discovery that she was in fact Jewish, but the mention of a miracle having to do with the girl implies that her soul was saved, that is, that she could be considered baptized.40 Now, ever since the late eleventh ­century, when descriptions of Jews killing their own c­ hildren to prevent their baptism began circulating in Eu­rope, Christian theologians argued

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that Jewish c­ hildren who ­were murdered by their parents w ­ ere “baptized by blood”—­a notion that went back to the Holy Innocents purportedly massacred by Herod.41 So when the corpse of a Jewish child was unearthed, her or his parents could be suspected of having committed a murder to prevent their child from converting. The discovery of any infant corpse, ­either a Christian or a Jew who could be perceived as a potential convert, therefore heightened suspicions of Jewish murder.42 Bagnacavallo’s account, which associated a miracle related to the death of a child with the hatred of the Mantuan Jews ­toward Salomone, implies that they may have perceived the goldsmith to be an informer (mosser or malshin), who had incriminated members of their community in the murder of the child whose body had been unearthed in March. This kind of delation would have had severe repercussions, ­because a Jew’s condemnation for child-­k illing would cast a shadow of suspicion over his coreligionists, seriously marring Jewish-­Christian relations in Mantua. Hence, it would have prompted a strong reaction against the Jew suspected of spreading the rumor of the Jews’ involvement in such a heinous crime. Premodern Jews, it should be noted, occasionally turned to Christian authorities to adjudicate their disputes with fellow Jews. In the Italian Peninsula, Jews not only sought the help of gentiles in settling civil m ­ atters but also sometimes denounced other Jews for criminal activities.43 Nonetheless, only a handful of Eu­ro­pean Jews, t­ hose believed to have endangered the very existence of the Jewish community by their delations to Christian magistrates, ­were ever accused of malshinut (informing)—­one of the worst offenses a Jew could commit.44 As Elisheva Carlebach has shown, the image of the Jewish informer who eventually converted to Chris­tian­ity featured in accounts of major disasters that befell medieval Jewish communities, culminating in the well-­known sixteenth-­century portrayal of the informer-­turned-­apostate by Josel of Rosheim (d. 1554).45 Josel, whose f­ ather had survived the blood libel in Endingen in 1470, strove to refute the myth of Jewish ritual murder.46 In his work Sefer ha-­miknah, he tackled the instrumental role of informers who falsely accused their fellow Jews of child murder, presenting t­ hese would-be converts as the driving force ­behind all past anti-­Jewish blood libels.47



A M urdered C hild

Delations that jeopardized the security of entire Jewish communities w ­ ere not unknown in Re­nais­sance Italy. Jewish sources attest to the threat of expulsion that the Jews of Florence faced in 1472, following false accusations that a certain malshin had made to the authorities against them.48 The invocation “may the informers have no hope” (‫) ולמלשינים בל תהי תקווה‬, which was specifically aimed at ­those Jews whose recourse to the gentiles put their communities at risk, formed part of the liturgy of Italian Jews in the fifteenth c­ entury.49 The Jews of Mantua, who recited it daily, doubtlessly shared the widely accepted notion that a wicked Jew, whose betrayal of Jewish solidarity imperiled his coreligionists, deserved to be completely cut off from the House of Israel.50 The retaliation of his fellow Jews—­either by direct vio­ lence or by denouncing the informer to the authorities for crimes that would result in grave punishments—­was therefore deemed legitimate. While Josel of Rosheim portrayed the act of malshinut as an indication of the informer’s innate depravity that was also the reason for his eventual apostasy, in practice the mere identification of any given individual as a tainted soul whose transgressions ­were unforgivable led to his ejection from Jewish society. 51 Abandoned by the Jews, an individual labeled as a malshin or mosser was left with l­ ittle choice but to cross over to the Christian side. That the Jews of Mantua held Salomone responsible for threatening their collective welfare prior to his baptism in October 1491 is attested in a letter that Francesco Gonzaga sent Eleonora of Aragon on September 7. 52 In this missive, Francesco noted the strong response that the goldsmith’s be­hav­ior had aroused in the Jewish population in Mantua as a w ­ hole, affirming that Salomone had committed several “very enormous errors,” and “in par­t ic­u ­lar, in upsetting all the Jews who are t­ here [et in specie in mettere sottosopra tuti li zudei che lì sono].”53 The marquis did not specify the reasons that had rendered Salomone a target of Jewish wrath. Nonetheless, his use of the wording “mettere sottosopra” when referring to the impact that the goldsmith’s misdeeds had on Mantua’s Jews hints at Salomone’s role in disrupting the peaceful coexistence between Jews and Christians in that city. 54 Informers w ­ ere generally believed to be motivated by the hope for material gain, the desire to avenge their adversaries within a certain community, or the wish to ingratiate themselves with local rulers. 55 In

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Salomone’s case, all three could have led to his denunciation of the Jews of Mantua. The goldsmith was accustomed to borrowing large sums of money from other Jews; thus it is easy to imagine his Jewish contemporaries thinking that he would wish to rid himself of one or more creditors by accusing them of having murdered the girl whose corpse had been discovered on March  22. As a bonus, he would also gain ­favor with Isabella d’Este, who was e­ ager to conclude the horrendous crime’s investigation. 56 Notwithstanding his employment by the Duchess of Ferrara and the commissions he received from the rulers of Mantua, in 1491 Salomone was beset by financial woes. ­A fter his ­mother’s death cut off his access to funds, we know that he sometimes resorted to dubious mea­sures for dealing with his cash crises. Thus, we read of Francesco Gonzaga’s claim on September 7, 1491, that Salomone attempted to cheat him of a sum of eigh­teen to twenty ducats for a certain gold chain that he made for him.57 Thirty years ­later, the goldsmith illicitly pawned the gold he had received from Isabella d’Este for making certain works for her. 58 In light of Salomone’s recurrent recourse to shady deals to cope with his monetary predicaments, the notion that he tried to implicate one or more of his Jewish creditors in Mantua in a severe crime in the hope of ridding himself of heavy debts and currying ­favor with the marchesa takes on a certain degree of credence. A ­ fter all, he had not been raised in Mantua but rather in Florence and in Bologna, and in 1491 he resided in Ferrara, as did his wife and ­children. That he did not belong to the Mantuan Jewish community would have made it easier for him to level accusations that threatened the well-­being of the city’s Jewish populace. No judicial rec­ords attesting to the proceedings against Mantuan Jews suspected of having murdered a girl in March 1491 have hitherto been uncovered. Nonetheless, extant documentation does reveal the escalating harassment of the Jews in Mantua in the months following the discovery of the baby’s corpse. By late July, four months ­a fter the mutilated corpse had been discovered, Mantua’s Jewish inhabitants turned to Marquis Francesco to complain about the aggravated “acts of vio­lence and insults” against them, such that they could not go on suffering. 59 Just as the Jews of Mantua w ­ ere undergoing continuous popu­lar manifestations of anti-­Jewish sentiments, the goldsmith Salomone left the city and returned to Ferrara.

CHAPTER FIVE

Friends and Foes

T

J EWS of Mantua evidently regarded Salomone da Sesso as a man whose deeds endangered their own well-­being. Still, no conclusive evidence of the goldsmith’s a­ ctual delation against other Jews has been discovered so far. Furthermore, while the Mantuan Jews’ attitude ­toward him suggests that his be­hav­ior may have been perceived as a betrayal of Jewish solidarity, documentary rec­ords also attest to Salomone’s ongoing attempts, throughout the spring and summer months of 1491, to assist other Jews. For this purpose, the Jewish goldsmith exploited his status as a highly acclaimed artist, whose expertise was sought out by members of the courts of Ferrara and Mantua alike. On May 4, 1491, Salomone da Sesso met with Francesco Gonzaga, who was visiting Ferrara, “at the h ­ ouse of Norsa,” and passed on a request from the Jewish moneylender Deodato Norsa.1 Salomone’s meeting with the Marquis of Mantua apparently took place in the residence of Manuele Norsa, Deodato’s affluent distant relative who had served as one of the arbitrators in Salomone’s past dispute with Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio and who kept the sum that Angelo owed the goldsmith’s sons.2 Francesco Gonzaga subsequently instructed his secretary Matteo HE

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Sacchetti (commonly known as Antimaco) to grant Deodato his wish, in deference to Salomone’s demand. 3 A week ­a fter his meeting with the goldsmith, the marquis issued a decree in ­favor of Deodato.4 When Isabella d’Este came to Ferrara ­later in May 1491, Salomone asked her, too, to intervene in f­ avor of a Jewish moneylender. On May 15, the marchioness wrote to her brother-­in-­law Ludovico (“il Moro”) Sforza (1452–1508), Duke of Bari and ruler of Milan, conveying the request of “Salomone da Sesso the Jew, most favored goldsmith of our most illustrious ­mother” to permit his brother-­in-­law (cognato) Davide Finzi to remain in Fontanellato (near Parma) notwithstanding the recent expulsion of the Jews from Sforza lands. 5 Ludovico Sforza had banished the Jews from the duchy of Milan in 1488, following the judicial proceedings in which the books held by forty Jewish residents of the duchy ­were condemned for containing texts deemed offensive to the Christian faith. 6 Nonetheless, since the duchy was composed of vari­ous regions, including the so-­called separated lands—­semiautonomous areas that w ­ ere eco­ nom­ically and po­liti­cally dependent on Milan—­the decree was not carried out effectively.7 In December 1490, Ludovico reissued the expulsion order, noting that the Jews should be banished not just from the city of Milan proper but also from all the other territories subject to Sforza dominion. Cognato could designate e­ ither the b ­ rother of one’s wife, the man married to the wife’s ­sister, or the husband of one’s own ­sister. In this case, however, it prob­ably meant one of the first two, b ­ ecause Salomone’s ­sister, Pinta, had married Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, and his ­sister Diana did not reach adulthood. 8 Since the names of both Salomone’s wife (prior to her baptism) and Davide Finzi’s spouse remain unknown, it is impossible to determine the precise familial relation between the two Jewish men. We do know that Davide Finzi was the son of the affluent Jewish banker from Reggio Emilia, Zinatan the son of Museto.9 In the 1470s, Davide himself worked as a moneylender in Fontanella (near Soncino), one of the “separated lands.” Although he did not number among the Jewish men originally interrogated in Milan in 1488, his name was still included on the list of ­those who ­were required to partake in paying the enormous fine that the condemned Jews ­were compelled to pay in 1490.10 Having moved to Fontanellato, Davide continued to be involved in



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banking activities in the duchy of Milan even ­a fter the Jews’ official banishment from Sforza lands.11 In several cases, specific individuals or their local communities, for whom the ser­v ices of Jewish moneylenders w ­ ere deemed indispensable, turned to Ludovico Sforza asking for permission to resume the operation of their pawnshops in the towns from which “il Moro” had formally expelled the Jews.12 Isabella d’Este similarly asked Ludovico to allow Davide Finzi to stay in Fontanellato in May 1491, hoping that he would grant this request as a personal ­favor to her.13 “Il Moro,” who four months ­earlier had married Beatrice d’Este (1475–1497), frequently corresponded with her ­sister Isabella, and their exchange of letters helped to consolidate the diplomatic relations between the states of Mantua and Milan.14 Isabella’s intercession in ­favor of Davide is remarkable for her praise of his brother-­i n-­law’s artistic talent. The marchesa exclaims: “Since I ­favor the aforementioned Salomone b ­ ecause he is very able [molto virtuoso] and refined in his craft, I s­ hall willingly see his wish being granted, [that is] that his brother-­in-­law [be allowed to] stay in this land [­under Sforza rule] . . . ​so that he can support his ­family and live industriously.”15 Virtuoso, a man of virtù (virtus), was a key concept in the artistic discourse of the Italian Re­nais­sance, designating an individual who possessed inherent as well as learned artistic abilities.16 Virtù, as Leon Battista Alberti (1404–1472) explained in I libri della famiglia (Books on the ­family), encompassed all “­those excelling gifts that God gave to the soul of man, greatest and preeminent above all other earthly animals.”17 So when Isabella praised Salomone as a man who was molto virtuoso in goldsmithery, she implied that he was not a common craftsman but rather a rational artist, who first designed his intentions in his mind and then executed them meticulously through the use of his hands. Isabella d’Este was an extraordinarily discerning patron of artworks and luxury goods, and her commissions had a notable impact on the Re­ nais­sance market for jewelry and fash­ion­able accessories.18 Many of her artists and craftsmen did not originate from or even reside in Mantua, and she prized technical and stylistic innovation.19 Having reached the position of an artist admired by a perceptive patron such as Isabella for being molto virtuoso, Salomone sought to enjoy the privileges attached to this high regard for his talent by coming to the aid of his Jewish acquaintances who did not fare so well.

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On May 21, just days a­ fter intervening in ­favor of Davide, “Salomone da Sexo the Jew” received the payment of sixteen lire marchesane from Eleonora of Aragon.20 This sum was paid for unspecified pieces of jewelry that he had made for a certain Cassandra, one of Eleonora’s ladies-­i n-­ waiting.21 Thus, by the spring of 1491 the jewelry produced in the Jewish goldsmith’s workshop not only was donned by the rulers of Mantua and Ferrara but also adorned the bodies of other members of their courts. Salomone remained in Ferrara, and in August 1491 he tried to help out yet another one of his kin, who was working at his ser­vice. This Jew, Angelo di Vitale, was arrested in Mantua at the instigation of Mantuan Jews, even though Marquis Francesco had previously granted him safe-­ conduct to pass through Gonzaga lands.22 Safe-­conducts ­were privileges issued upon the request of individual travelers for a specific journey. Given by rulers or high-­ranking officials ­either in the country from which such travelers departed or in their country of destination, safe-­conducts ­were aimed at ensuring that they would not be harmed en route and during their stay in a foreign land. The Marquis of Mantua had ­earlier assured Salomone that Angelo’s safe-­conduct would guarantee his safety while in Mantua. On August 16, Salomone therefore sent a letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino, who accompanied Francesco Gonzaga in his travels, asking him to remind the marquis of his promise and protesting the failure to re­spect Angelo’s safe-­conduct.23 This was the first of six communications written by the goldsmith to have been discovered so far, and the only one that predated his conversion. Like most of his contemporaries, Salomone resorted to a scribe who drafted his missive in the vernacular. As was the case with many of the letters drafted by fifteenth-­century artists, the dispatch of August 16, 1491, requested a princely patron’s intervention on behalf of an individual who—­according to the petitioner—­was being treated unfairly by state officials. 24 In contrast to the letters that Isabella d’Este, Francesco Gonzaga, and Eleonora of Aragon sent in 1491, in which Salomone the goldsmith was always identified as a Jew, he did not designate himself as one in his own missive to Pietro Gentile.25 Instead, his dispatch was signed “Sala­ mone, goldsmith of the most illustrious lady, the Duchess of Ferrara,” suggesting Salomone’s confidence in his privileged position as Eleonora’s favorite goldsmith and in the admiration with which his talent was held



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Fig.  5. ​Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August  16, 1491. Photo by the author. Archivio di Stato di Mantova, Archivio Gonzaga, busta 1232, c. 233. Reproduced with permission. This is the earliest of the six known letters authored by Salomone / Ercole, and the only one predating his baptism.

at the ducal court. Although Salomone seemed connected to Judaism— he not only followed halachic dietary laws but also repeatedly came to the aid of fellow Jews—he placed his trust in his professional status, as court goldsmith to Ferrara’s duchess. He may have hoped that his artistic renown would set him apart from ordinary Jews—­that is, from his Mantuan Jewish adversaries—­a nd sway Francesco Gonzaga to accede to his request. In the body of his letter, the goldsmith alluded to his adversaries and asked that the marquis be reminded that Angelo di Vitale had been granted safe-­conduct, “so that our enemies are not given a reason to rejoice.” Salomone did not name his foes but noted that he would gladly tell Marquis Francesco more about them if he could discuss the m ­ atter 26 with him in person. Now, competition for commissions and court positions sometimes led to the incrimination of successful Re­nais­sance artists, whose rivals eagerly awaited their downfall. Salomone’s Christian counterpart, the goldsmith Bartolomeo Melioli (1448–1514), explained

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his imprisonment in Mantua as the result of wrongful accusations made by jealous adversaries, and similar claims would ­later be made by the celebrated goldsmith and sculptor Benvenuto Cellini.27 Salomone’s fame as a goldsmith surely provoked professional resentment. The Jewish goldsmiths who had established themselves in Mantua prior to the arrival of a nonnative Jew who was lauded by Marchioness Isabella as “molto virtuoso” may well have envied his success. Yet, as we ­shall soon see, the adversaries who implicated Angelo di Vitale in grave crimes also included other Mantuan Jews, who lobbied Marquis Francesco against both Salomone and his relative. Disregarding Salomone’s insinuation that Angelo’s arrest was the outcome of his enemies’ machinations, even ­a fter he was duly informed of the contents of the goldsmith’s letter Francesco Gonzaga would not hear of the suspect’s release. The safe-­conduct that Angelo had been granted, the marquis asserted, was not meant to facilitate his criminal activities. Indeed, although safe-­conducts ­were normally issued to ensure traveling Jews that they would not be harassed by state officials, some misdeeds w ­ ere considered so serious that they ­were excluded from standard safe-­conducts.28 Angelo di Vitale was accused of perpetrating precisely such crimes, and, disregarding any safe-­conduct caveat, Francesco ordered his officials to have him tortured, and if necessary also condemned.29 Salomone then enlisted the support of his admiring patron Eleonora of Aragon, who on August 20 wrote to the Marquis of Mantua herself. 30 She asked her son-­in-­law to have Angelo freed so that “our Jewish goldsmith Salamone,” who expressed his intention to go to Mantua to try and facilitate his relative’s release, would not be kept away from Ferrara, where his ser­v ices to the duchess w ­ ere very much in demand.31 Eleonora’s intervention had no effect. On the contrary, a week l­ ater, on August 27, Marquis Francesco instructed Ermolao Bardolini, his podesta (Mantua’s highest judicial official, who was subject to the marquis), to have Angelo tortured again.32 The marquis noted that Angelo had already withstood the statutory three jerks of a rope (tratti di corda)—­that is, of being suspended from a rope with his arms or wrists tied b ­ ehind his back—­without confessing to the transgressions with which he had been charged. Nonetheless, the marquis wished Angelo to be subjected to further torture, a­ fter receiving new information that implicated not only



F riends and F oes

him but also his son Simone in certain crimes. Francesco insisted that Simone, too, be arrested and interrogated “­u nder torture, if needed.”33 When undergoing another round of torture, Angelo broke. On August 30, Bardolini informed the marquis that the Jewish culprit fi­nally admitted to having received and sold unspecified valuables stolen by a certain thief named Maffeo. 34 Jews in early modern Italy ­were frequently charged with the crime of receiving stolen goods, an offense closely associated with operating pawnshops. 35 Angelo di Vitale, however, was questioned specifically about receiving and selling the goods stolen from another Jewish man in Mantua, named Giacobo. According to Bardolini, Angelo not only admitted all t­ hese charges ­under torture but also confessed that his accomplice in t­ hese crimes was an unnamed “Christian ­woman, with whom the aforementioned Angelo the Jew used to have sexual relations.”36 A patent transgression of religious bound­a ries, a Jew’s sexual traffic with a Christian was perceived as an offense not only against society but also against God. Canonically illegal for centuries, its punishment was left to the discretion of civic magistrates. 37 In fifteenth-­century Italy, accusations of miscegenation regularly prompted judicial action against Jews. 38 ­W hether or not the many documented court cases attest to the a­ ctual prevalence of carnal relations between Jews and Catholics remains a m ­ atter of scholarly debate. 39 Yet the charges themselves w ­ ere clearly labeled against Jews often enough for Re­nais­sance rulers to offer their more affluent Jewish subjects special protection from such accusations. Hence, when Salomone’s brother-­in-­law Davide Finzi and his ­brother, Joseph, ­were arrested in 1469 following suspicions of consorting with Christian ­women, their ­father, the successful moneylender Zinatan, managed to secure their release without any penalty.40 In the same vein, in 1490 Duke Ercole d’Este granted a privilege to Ferrara’s wealthiest banker, Manuele Norsa, promising him and his ­family immunity from vari­ous criminal charges, including sexual intermingling with Catholics.41 Duke Ercole’s son-­in-­law Francesco Gonzaga was likewise amenable to offering his well-­off Jewish subjects protection against allegations of miscegenation. In January 1491, Francesco had conceded this privilege to the three sons of the Jewish banker Daniele of Carpi, and in May of that year—­just three months prior to Angelo di Vitale’s condemnation—he granted it to Salomone da Sesso’s acquaintance Deodato Norsa. The

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Marquis of Mantua specifically stipulated that even if Deodato was ever found guilty of fornicating with a Christian, he would not be detained in prison for more than five days.42 The name of the ­woman with whom Angelo di Vitale had supposedly had an intimate relationship in 1491 was not mentioned in Bardolini’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga, lending support to the idea that the accusation regarding his sexual misconduct was unsubstantiated. Even if this was not the case, it doubtlessly still reflected the Mantuan Jews’ animosity ­toward Angelo. A few de­cades ­later, Jews in the Mantuan state likewise attempted to avenge one of their coreligionists by incriminating his son in interracial relations, but to no avail.43 In Angelo’s case, however, Francesco Gonzaga’s podesta—as opposed to other Italian magistrates in ­those years—­did not dismiss the allegation as unfounded.44 Nor was he willing to tolerate Angelo’s purported wrongdoing, even though just a few months ­earlier Mantua’s marquis had expressed his intention to disregard similar accusations if they ­were ever brought against Deodato Norsa or Daniele of Carpi. Bardolini declared Angelo guilty of sexual relations with a Christian, on top of condemning him for theft and for dealing in stolen goods. Together, t­ hese charges w ­ ere enough to have the Jew sentenced to death.45 Not only w ­ ere Salomone’s attempts to save his relative unsuccessful, but the goldsmith himself was imprisoned just a few days ­later. In her letter of August  20, Duchess Eleonora mentioned Salomone’s intention to leave for Mantua, but a missive that Francesco Gonzaga addressed to her on September 7 indicates that by that day Salomone had already been incarcerated in Ferrara, so it seems that he never reached Mantua at all. Francesco did not hide his satisfaction upon hearing of Salomone’s arrest, noting that the goldsmith had cheated him of “eigh­ teen or twenty ducats” while forging a gold chain for him a few months e­ arlier.46 Charges of fraud against Re­nais­sance goldsmiths ­were easy to make, ­because they commonly kept a portion of the materials provided by their patrons. It could thus be claimed that they had falsified the weight of the precious metals they had received and retained more than their due, an accusation that was difficult to refute.47 ­Needless to say, of course, metalworkers w ­ ere not immune to temptation, and the statutes of goldsmiths’ guilds in northern Italy repeatedly condemned acts of  knavery.48



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Salomone was not the first Jewish goldsmith in the Mantovano region to be suspected of fraud. In 1460, a Jewish man named Baruch was tried in Cremona for selling a piece of jewelry that did not contain the declared amount of precious material. In 1472, a Jew from Mantua was arrested for selling fake jewelry in the duchy of Milan; he was sentenced to death, but his punishment was eventually commuted to an exorbitant fine.49 Jewelry was a commanding symbolic tool in Re­nais­sance Eu­rope, and its use as a marker of status by elite men is considered one of the period’s hallmarks. The Holy Roman Emperor as well as the kings, dukes, and marquises of the fifteenth c­ entury wore weighty golden chains and necklaces with pendants that set off the breadth of the shoulders. Like armor and accessories such as metal ­belts, ­these helped to create a fash­ ion­able masculine look. 50 Heavy chains w ­ ere especially in vogue among aristocratic men in the courts of Ferrara, Mantua, and Milan, and discerning viewers, such as Francesco Gonzaga’s consort, used to estimate the value of the chains worn by the men who participated in court cele­brations. 51 The overall value of the chain that Salomone had made for Francesco Gonzaga was not recorded, but it was prob­ably not considerably lower than 500 ducats, the price that the marquis paid for a gold chain that another goldsmith forged for him two years ­later. 52 Eigh­teen to twenty ducats would have equaled 3 to 4 ­percent of the value of this kind of chain. Salomone’s alleged fraud amounted to a considerable sum—­ more than the annual wage rate of construction workers, which in the late fifteenth c­ entury averaged about fifteen ducats. 53 Marquis Francesco, who was chronically short of cash, evidently wished to benefit from Salomone’s downfall by retrieving this sum, which he affirmed to be rightfully his. 54 The Gonzagas’ relationship with the goldsmiths they employed, it should be noted, was often rather precarious. Francesco and Isabella ­were slow in remunerating their goldsmiths, who had to beg to be paid for their l­ abor and sometimes attempted to make up for the delay or diminution in their salary by failing to deliver their works on time, or by trying to supplement their income in questionable ways. The marquis and marchioness occasionally had goldsmiths arrested for cheating them, or even for failing to deliver a commission promptly. Such drastic

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Fig. 6. ​Portrait of Duke Alfonso I d’Este, by Battista di Niccolò Luteri (known as Battista Dossi). First half of the sixteenth c­ entury. Galleria Estense di Modena. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali—­A rchivio fotografico delle Gallerie Estensi—­Foto Carlo Vannini. Prot. no. 6839. The portrait shows Alfonso d’Este wearing a heavy gold chain of the kind that Salomone da Sesso made for Alfonso’s brother-­ in-­law, Francesco Gonzaga.



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means ­were aimed at pressuring the artists to comply with their patrons’ ­orders and had l­ ittle effect on their reputation; indeed, they w ­ ere usually 55 rehired a­ fter their release. Salomone da Sesso’s imprisonment in 1491, however, was far from routine. In his letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, Francesco Gonzaga did not explain how he came to discover the goldsmith’s attempt to defraud him. A delation of this kind had to be made by someone familiar with the goldsmith’s craft who could claim to have inside information about a certain workshop. In other known cases, disgruntled apprentices or assistants attempted to avenge their employers by accusing them of fraud.56 That one or more of Salomone’s three Jewish garzoni had the marquis informed about his alleged misdeed certainly seems probable, especially in light of Francesco’s subsequent allusion to Jewish animosity ­toward the illustrious artist. Urging Eleonora to keep Salomone in jail at least u ­ ntil he repaid the sum of which he had cheated him, Francesco added that the Jew had committed other “very enormous errors” in the city of Mantua, “and in par­tic­u­lar, in upsetting all the Jews who are t­ here.” The marquis ended by assuring his mother-­i n-­law that nothing would please him more than Salomone’s just punishment for his misdemeanors. 57 The instructions that Francesco issued on the following day indicate that a Mantuan Jew named Bonaventura had played a key role in implicating Salomone. The marquis charged his podesta with interrogating Angelo di Vitale one more time, in Bonaventura’s presence, concerning “certain crimes” committed by Salomone da Sesso. He ordered Bardolini not to hesitate to torture Angelo again, in order “to extract the truth” from him about the goldsmith’s supposed offenses. 58 Had Salomone, too, been tortured during his interrogation, or was the mere threat of torture, which could cause physical harm that would jeopardize his dexterity, enough to make him confess to the transgressions of which he was accused?59 Francesco’s messages do not disclose this information. The marquis usually preferred to communicate sensitive news through reliable intermediaries, and in this case, too, he refrained from conveying the details of the judicial proceedings against Salomone in writing.60 Instead, he entrusted his podesta with obtaining information about the specific nature of Salomone’s purported crimes from the Jew Bonaventura in person. Given the key role that Bonaventura played in the

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affair of incriminating the goldsmith who had “upset all the Jews” in Mantua, it is likely that he was one and the same leader of the Mantuan Jews who only a few years ­later, in 1497, acted as a representative of the Jewish populace in Mantua. In this ­later case, Bonaventura and another member of the Mantuan Jewish community approached Giacomo da Capua, an official in charge of collecting judiciary fines in Gonzaga lands, on behalf of the Jews in Mantua.61 The Jewish population in fifteen-­century Mantua was still or­ga­nized in a primitive manner, which would only give way to a more institutionalized arrangement in the following ­century. Leadership of the Mantuan Jews, like that of other Jewish settlements in northern Italy, was in the hands of the affluent bankers who had received privileges from local rulers, and they ­were the ones who approached the Gonzaga rulers and their officials on behalf of the local Jews.62 In responding to their requests, Mantua’s marquises referred to the bankers as representatives of the Jewish populace, although they still did not regard them as official heads of an or­ga­n ized Jewish community. 63 The cryptic language of the marquis of Mantua’s missives and the loss of the a­ ctual proceedings against both Angelo and Salomone make it difficult to decipher what exactly was ­going on. Why did Francesco Gonzaga refrain from specifying how Salomone had “upset all the Jews” in Mantua, and how w ­ ere such deeds related to the goldsmith’s alleged attempt to defraud the marquis and to his relative’s supposed transgressions? Was the profound animosity that Mantua’s Jews expressed not only ­toward Salomone, but also ­toward Angelo, in August 1491 indeed linked to the discovery of a girl’s corpse in the Gonzaga capital in late March of that year? If so, what made Francesco so determined to have Angelo tortured, u ­ ntil he admitted to being guilty of multiple transgressions that ­were apparently not related to the murder of a child? We are left in the dark with regard to t­ hese questions, but Francesco’s correspondence does disclose one helpful clue: the pivotal role that Mantuan Jews, and especially Bonaventura, played in implicating Salomone as well as Angelo in crimes that w ­ ere bound to end in execution.

II Apostasy

CHAPTER SIX

A Jewish Sodomite?

N

S ALOMONE’S attempts to cheat him of eigh­teen to twenty ducats, Francesco Gonzaga refrained from naming the goldsmith’s other offenses that had purportedly shocked the Jews of Mantua. Yet, on September 10, 1491, just two days a­ fter the marquis had issued the instructions to his podesta, the Duchess of Ferrara sent her ­daughter a letter mentioning one particularly grave charge that had been brought against her court goldsmith, remarking:1 OTING ONLY

Salamone the Jew, our goldsmith, is in prison ­here for sodomy and other bad ­t hings; and it seems that ­t here [in Mantua] a servant of his likewise finds himself in prison. Recognizing his error, the aforementioned Salamone has repented, and de­cided to become a Christian, and his Excellency the most illustrious lord Duke our consort thought to p ­ ardon him, in order to gain his soul. I therefore greatly beg you that you should wish to intercede with the aforementioned marquis [of Mantua] so that he p ­ ardons the aforementioned servant, since he has also converted and wants to become a Christian, so that this w ­ ill be a double gain. 2 59

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Sodomy (sodomia) could denote vari­ous nonprocreative sexual practices “against nature,” but in Re­nais­sance Italy it usually meant sexual acts involving two or more men.3 Jewish men already figured in sodomy ­trials in Italian cities during the f­ourteenth ­century, and judicial evidence from Palermo to Rome, Florence, and Bologna indicates that Jews throughout the peninsula w ­ ere charged with this felony in the course of the fifteenth ­century. Interestingly, sodomy proceedings against Jews reveal that the culprits w ­ ere often, though certainly not always, tried for same-­sex relations with their coreligionists, rather than with Catholics.4 Jewish men evidently did not remain indifferent to the homoerotic culture that flourished in the major cities of early modern Italy. Indeed, Jewish sources attest to the scandals caused by the involvement of some of their coreligionists, including the eldest son of the celebrated Venetian rabbi and intellectual Leone Modena (1571–1648), in same-­sex liaisons with other members of their community. 5 Although in some sodomy cases the accusations against them w ­ ere not unfounded, Jews do appear to have been particularly vulnerable to charges of sodomitic acts that they had actually not committed.6 Thus, in one well-­documented case from the early 1470s, several men connived to blackmail a wealthy Jewish moneylender from Lucca, threatening to denounce him for having sodomized a young servant ­u nless he paid them a considerable sum of money.7 In 1485, another affluent Jew named Isacco, son of the eminent banker Vitale da Pisa, was arrested in Florence for his supposed involvement in same-­sex liaisons, in addition to having had carnal relations with Christian ­women. That the accusations against Isacco formed part of a broader set of allegations leveled against fourteen members of the Da Pisa ­house­hold points to the vulnerability of high-­profile Jews to charges of sexual deviance. 8 Salomone da Sesso’s incrimination for sodomy was not the first case of a Jew being charged with this transgression in Quattrocento Ferrara. Already in 1429, eighteen-­year-­old Ferrarese Jew Liucio di Leone was accused of the crime. Liucio’s f­ ather turned to Marquis Nicolò III d’Este (1393–1441), Duke Ercole’s f­ather, and complained that his son had falsely been slandered as a sodomite, “out of envy.” The Marquis of Ferrara accepted the supplication, ordered his officials to ignore the denunciations against Liucio, and granted him safe-­conduct throughout the Este lands.9



A J ewish S odomite ?

Liucio’s case clues us in to the fact that accusations of sodomy w ­ ere sometimes lodged against certain Jews by their adversaries and ­were motivated by the latter’s animosity or rivalry ­toward them. As far as Salomone was concerned, we know that he not only aroused the envy and enmity of men who, as he maintained in his letter to Pietro Gentile, anticipated his ruin but also was known to have worked with a reputed sodomite, the goldsmith and medalist Ermes Flavio de Bonis.10 Flavio, with whom Salomone collaborated back in 1483, had previously been associated with a group of humanists in Rome that openly favored homoerotic relations.11 In the early 1470s, Flavio had reportedly been the sexual partner of the fifteen-­year-­old page Alessandro Cinuzzi (1458–1474), and he was ­later singled out as his lover in the poems written in Cinuzzi’s memory ­after his untimely death.12 The publication of ­these poems shocked readers, some of whom subsequently argued that Ermes and his friends, who delighted in same-­sex relations with boys, ­were “worthy of the stake.”13 Like Ermes Flavio, other goldsmiths w ­ ere suspected of homoerotic predilections. In Re­nais­sance Florence, goldsmiths actually constituted the largest group of artists to be charged with sodomy: according to Michael Rocke, whereas twenty-­four paint­ers and only one sculptor ­were denounced as sodomites in this city, forty-­one men whose primary occupation was goldsmithery faced this charge.14 In the early sixteenth ­century, the goldsmith and sculptor Benvenuto Cellini was prosecuted for having committed sodomy with one of his workshop assistants. In his case, the sodomy charge was not groundless b ­ ecause Cellini openly celebrated homoerotic desire in his writings, and at one point made a ­will in f­ avor of one of his beloved garzoni.15 Apprentices and assistants often slept in their master’s workshop, which sometimes functioned as a site for sexual experimentation and homosocial bonding between a goldsmith and his young employees.16 As working conditions ­u nder Jewish masters did not differ significantly from the terms of ser­vice ­under Christians, Salomone da Sesso—­just like Cellini—­employed workshop assistants, and in 1491 three of his Jewish garzoni ­were exempted from the Holy Week curfew in Mantua.17 Dependent on their employers, Jews working in the ser­v ice of Jewish masters ­were just as vulnerable to sexual exploitation as w ­ ere their Catholic 18 counter ­parts. Salomone had, perhaps, taken advantage of one of the

61

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A CONVERT’S TALE

Jewish “boys” in his workshop. Even if he had not done so, one of them may have incriminated him for sodomy at the instigation of Bonaventura or that of other members of the Jewish community in Mantua. The concurrent accusation made against Salomone regarding his attempted fraud while forging Francesco Gonzaga’s gold chain, which was likely made by someone claiming to be privy to the artist’s work practices, further points to the involvement of one or more of his Jewish assistants in bringing about his downfall. Vari­ous kinds of men’s illicit sexual activities ­were not prevalent only in the artistic circles with whom Salomone collaborated professionally;19 they also w ­ ere not unheard of among the Jews with whom he and his ­family associated. As we saw ­earlier, an unmarried Jewish ­woman claimed to have had an affair with Salomone’s f­ ather, who had gotten her pregnant, shortly before Mele da Sessa’s wedding to Ricca Finzi.20 Moreover, although the leaders of Italian Jewry issued repeated prohibitions against carnal relations with Christian ­women, Jewish men—­including Salomone’s brother-­in-­law Davide Finzi—­continued to arouse suspicions of engaging in illicit sexual contacts of this kind. 21 As in other premodern Jewish socie­ties, sexual conduct that did not conform to rabbinic ideals was tolerated among Italian Jews as long as it did not challenge the social order and was nonviolent.22 If a Jew involved in same-­sex relations was a problematic individual who transgressed his community’s code of conduct, though, his homoerotic proclivities could be held against him, and his fellow Jews could also opt to accuse him of crimes that he did not commit. So, while it is definitely pos­si­ble that Salomone had in fact engaged in sodomy prior to his arrest, it is also plausible that if he and Ermes Flavio ­were on friendly terms, Flavio’s reputation merely rubbed off on his Jewish counterpart. In such a scenario, the talented Jew’s ­earlier association with a medalist who was notorious for his passion for adolescent boys made it easier for this specific allegation against him to hold ­water. As in the case of Isacco, the son of Vitale da Pisa who was arrested for sodomy in 1485, the accusations concerning Salomone da Sesso’s alleged involvement in sodomitic acts ­were closely connected to charges brought against another member of his ­family, namely, Angelo di Vitale—­who, according to Eleonora of Aragon’s missive of September  10, 1491, was working at the goldsmith’s ser­v ice. Salomone and Angelo, again like



A J ewish S odomite ?

Isacco and his ­father, faced multiple indictments that reflected the degree of enmity they had aroused on the part of other Jews. The latter two ­were implicated in a series of crimes following the conversion to Chris­t ian­ity of Clemenza, Isacco’s s­ ister, which had seriously undermined her f­amily’s standing in the Jewish community.23 As for Salomone, he had already alluded to the role of his adversaries in facilitating Angelo di Vitale’s arrest in August 1491. 24 Two months l­ ater, the goldsmith attributed his own incrimination to the Mantuan Jews’ resentment of him, which was related to a miracle having to do with a ­little girl in Mantua. 25 As suggested in chapter 4, this could have been the child whose corpse had been discovered on March 22, and while Salomone’s connection to the investigation of her case is not disclosed in extant documentation, he may have accused one or more Mantuan Jews of having murdered her, thereby exposing the Jewish population to the potential danger of a ferocious blood libel. The involvement of Bonaventura and other Jews in incriminating Salomone indicates that the goldsmith was indeed considered a man whose be­hav­ior threatened the safety of the entire Jewish populace—­one who, as we recall Francesco Gonzaga put it, had committed “very enormous errors,” greatly upsetting “all the Jews” in Mantua.26 To remove this threat, leaders of the Mantuan Jewry de­c ided to have him handed over to the civic authorities in Ferrara and implicated him in serious transgressions, including sodomy. In l­ ater documented cases, such as that of the Roman Jew Israele de’ Piperno, Jewish communities similarly sought to eliminate the perceptible menace posed by a particularly troublesome coreligionist by pressing charges of sodomy and other felonies against him. 27 In 1486, Isacco the son of Vitale da Pisa and his affluent relatives ­were able to pay the fine that they received for their purported misdemeanors, which included Isacco’s presumed engagement in sodomy. Not only did Isacco and his kinsfolk not suffer further consequences of the proceedings against them, but they ­later even regained their influential position as wealthy Jewish bankers. Thus, merely two years ­a fter their trial, Isacco’s f­ ather was able to talk Lorenzo de’ Medici into canceling the expulsion decree against the Jews of Florence.28 Like most of the highborn men accused—­a nd even convicted—of serious crimes in Re­ nais­sance Italy, rich and well-­connected Isacco was never prosecuted to

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the full limit of the law. The fate awaiting Salomone da Sesso, who in 1491 was heavi­ly in debt and was convicted of multiple wrongdoings, including one against the power­ ful Marquis of Mantua and o ­thers against his own coreligionists, was rather dif­fer­ent. According to Eleonora of Aragon, Salomone was convicted first and foremost of sodomy, and of all sexual crimes, this was the one that elicited civic authorities’ greatest concern.29 Whereas the republics of Florence and Venice established specific tribunals for the repression of sodomy, in Ferrara—as in the other court cities of northern Italy—­its prosecution remained in the hands of the judiciary officials responsible for other criminal t­ rials. Nonetheless, while other Italian courts, including that of nearby Bologna, gradually ceased executing sodomites in the course of the fifteenth ­century, Ferrara continued to do so. 30 Convicted sodomites in Ferrara ­were executed in 1447 and in 1452, and the son of the blacksmith Bernardino “magnano” was decapitated for this offense in 1453. A fourth man, who was condemned for heterosexual sodomy, was hanged and then burned at the stake in 1454. The next capital punishment was meted on a purported sodomite in Ferrara in 1468. 31 Although no man was sentenced to death for sodomy during the first two de­cades of Ercole d’Este’s rule, its repression was intensified ­a fter the duke’s appointment of the “chillingly effective” Gregorio Zampante as a supplementary Captain of Justice (Capitano di giustizia) in 1490. 32 Ferrarese chroniclers described Zampante, a native of Lucca who had served as podesta in vari­ous Italian cities, as a judiciary official who favored a speedy recourse to threats of torture, which he gladly carried out, and that ­were aimed at eliciting confessions of guilt from innocent suspects. 33 In October 1490, shortly ­a fter Zampante’s appointment in Ferrara and a year prior to Salomone’s incrimination, one of the duke’s courtiers was convicted of having “sodomized a boy [ragazzo] of Duke Ercole, who was the son of the cavalier Messer Baldissera of Treviso, and against his w ­ ill.” The courtier was forced to pay the enormous sum of 300 ducats for his nefarious deed. 34 In June 1493, Zampante sentenced two other convicted sodomites to death at the stake, and only Eleonora of Aragon’s intervention led Ercole d’Este to prevent their public execution. 35 While Eleonora’s interference averted the burning of ­these condemned sodomites, in 1497—­when the duchess was no longer alive—­t wo



A J ewish S odomite ?

other men convicted of sodomy ­were sent to the pyre, and another one was beheaded. 36 The prosecution of sodomy in Ferrara subsided only ­a fter Ercole d’Este’s death in 1505. 37 Once condemned for sodomy, Salomone da Sesso faced a punishment of the most serious kind b ­ ecause, unlike his Jewish Ferrarese pre­ de­ces­sor Liucio di Leone, he was not an adolescent.38 He had already fathered two ­daughters and two sons. A married man aged over thirty-­four at the time of his arrest, he would have been perceived as a habitual sodomite. 39 Being a Jew meant that his life would end by the most painful kind of judicial killing, that of being burned alive. This was the death sentence that both Jewish criminals and habitual sodomites often faced, and as both a Jew and a married man condemned for sodomy, it was unlikely that he would be deemed entitled to a less painful execution.40 Adult Jewish men who ­were convicted of sodomy ­were evidently aware, and rightly fearful, of their grim prospects. One Jew, named Natan, who was prosecuted for sodomy in Mantua fifteen years ­a fter Salomone’s incrimination, was so mortified by the outcome of his trial that he attempted to escape. Natan was ultimately killed in September 1506 by the marquis’s men who ­were sent to recapture him.41 Although the official rec­ords of Salomone’s trial are missing,42 Eleonora of Aragon’s mention of the p ­ ardon that the goldsmith received from her consort suggests that he had, indeed, been sentenced to death. In any event, Zampante would have most likely led him to believe that he was facing death. Notorious for exerting psychological pressure on defendants, Zampante used to threaten them with capital punishment, even if in practice he was often willing to commute death sentences to substantial fines.43 In Salomone’s case, too, Zampante may have condemned him to death with the intention of subsequently reducing his punishment to a pecuniary one. Given his precarious financial standing, though, the goldsmith would not have been able to pay a penalty of several hundred ducats, as Duke Ercole’s unnamed courtier had done in 1490.44 When criminals failed to pay the sum set as their fines within a fixed term, they ­were subject to the loss of a limb,45 a punishment that would have impaired Salomone’s ability to work and therefore lead to the complete ruin of his f­ amily. A prolonged imprisonment, ­until he came up with the required sum, would have likewise kept him away from his furnace, with the same disastrous effect.

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At a time when only a fraction of ­those convicted of crimes punishable by death actually mounted the scaffold, Salomone’s social profile matched that of ­those offenders who often did end up being publicly executed.46 He was a male “outsider,” not a native to the city in which he stood trial. Lacking the financial resources that would have allowed him to negotiate the mitigation of his penalty, he was also a member of a disadvantaged minority group yet could not even rely on his fellow Jews to help him out—­because Bonaventura and other influential Jews, who enjoyed the Marquis of Mantua’s ­favor, ­were intent on ­doing precisely the opposite. One can only imagine Salomone’s ­mental anguish upon hearing his verdict. Unlike most other individuals in his situation, the goldsmith could not benefit from the solace offered by the comforters’ confraternity, whose members provided consolation only to Christian criminals. The Jewish confraternity of Gmilut Hasadim, which would l­ ater undertake this task among its other charitable activities, was not established in Ferrara u ­ ntil more than two de­cades ­later.47 In this bleak situation, Salomone was offered the possibility of saving his life by consenting to baptism. This was not the first time that an Italian Jew was able to evade public execution, following a sodomy conviction, by converting to Chris­ tian­ity. Similar circumstances spurred the baptism of Samuel ben Nissim Farachio, another high-­profile Jew of the late fifteenth ­century.48 Baptized in 1470 as Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada, Farachio ­later became known as Flavius Mithridates (1450–1483). Jewish intellectuals such as Abraham ben Mordecai Farissol (1452–­c. 1528), who resided in Ferrara, w ­ ere well aware both of Moncada’s conversion and of the oration that he delivered in Rome in 1481, in which he repudiated Judaism in ­favor of Chris­t ian ­ity.49 Moncada, who like Salomone da Sesso left his mark on Italian Re­nais­sance culture, was known for his homoerotic tendencies, and his brushes with the law did not end with his apostasy. 50 ­A fter his conversion, Moncada pursued the sexual ­favors of a certain boy in exchange for translating Hebrew texts for Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–1494), and the theme of the “handsome boy” (‫ )נער יפה‬recurs in the parentheses and notes of his translations. 51 Unlike the case of Moncada, Salomone’s ­actual sexual preferences, and even acts, are lost to history. 52 In contrast with the better-­k nown



A J ewish S odomite ?

goldsmith Cellini, who alluded to his prosecution for sodomy in the autobiography that he authored, our protagonist did not account for such accusations in any written rec­ord. 53 ­Whether Salomone’s incrimination was wholly unsubstantiated or indeed reflected his involvement in homoerotic affairs, it seems clear that his condemnation for sodomy, following a ruthless prosecution by Zampante, lay at the root of his decision to become a Christian. 54 We see the relationship between Zampante’s brutal techniques of obtaining convictions and the conversion of condemned criminals in the manifest grudge that another recent convert from Judaism bore against Ferrara’s Captain of Justice. Five years a­ fter Salomone’s trial, this neophyte partook in the scheme to murder Zampante, together with two other men who wished to avenge the judge for his cruelty. Having apparently been tortured into confessing to a serious crime, whose harsh verdict was only annulled upon his consent to convert, the baptized Jew ­later retaliated by plotting Zampante’s murder. 55 In the late fifteenth c­ entury, when Zampante’s would-be killer and Salomone da Sesso both agreed to be baptized, Jews’ conversion to Chris­tian­ity in the Italian Peninsula was still rather haphazard. It was only ­a fter the 1540s, following the Church’s systematic efforts to facilitate Jewish baptisms, that their occurrence in central and northern Italy became much more common. 56 Interestingly, however, Salomone was not the first man in his f­amily to have accepted baptism in the course of the Quattrocento. His maternal u ­ ncle Angelo (d. 1466), the son of Stella and Joseph Finzi, was baptized in Lendinara three de­cades ­earlier. The only ­brother of Salomone’s ­mother, Ricca, Angelo converted in 1462 together with his wife and received the baptismal name Arcangelo Maria. While the events leading to Angelo Finzi’s conversion remain shrouded in mystery, it is notable that his el­derly ­father, Joseph, left Lendinara, whose bank he had been ­r unning for many years, around the time of Angelo’s baptism.57 Joseph Finzi’s sudden departure points to the possibility that Angelo’s conversion was precipitated by some kind of scandal, in which his ­father may have also been involved. That Angelo Finzi, like his nephew Salomone, was compelled to convert ­under duress is further suggested by his baptismal name, Arcangelo Maria. Reminiscent of his original name while formally attesting to his adherence to

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Catholicism, this choice of name may have reflected a wish to preserve something of his former identity. 58 A convert to Chris­tian­ity was considered by Jewish law to be an apostate, and his relatives ­were required to mourn him as if he ­were dead. Nonetheless, in Quattrocento Italy neophytes frequently maintained contact with their erstwhile coreligionists, with whom they continued to conduct business. 59 In the case of Angelo / Arcangelo Maria, too, his ­father did not cut off all ties with him. In fact, the convert was entrusted with collecting the sums that ­were still owed to his ­father ­after the latter’s departure from Lendinara.60 The neophyte may have also continued to be in touch with his s­ ister Ricca, who by the time of his conversion was a widowed m ­ other of several ­children. Although Salomone was only a young child when his u ­ ncle converted, it seems likely that his m ­ other told him of the apostasy of her only ­brother. 61 ­A fter his relocation to the Este ducal capital in the late 1480s, the goldsmith must have also been informed about his ­u ncle’s conversion by the Jews in Ferrara, the last place that Arcangelo Maria visited before his demise in 1466, and where both he and his ­father, Joseph, had been well-­k nown figures. Salomone would have therefore known that ­a fter his baptism Arcangelo Maria not only continued to have contact with his Jewish ­father but also befriended local Christians, who hastened to come to the aid of his wife and his son ­a fter his untimely death.62 Against this backdrop, the prospect of converting may perhaps have seemed somewhat less grim. It has been suggested that knowledge of the apostasy of relatives, friends, or influential members of one’s community could facilitate the consent of prospective neophytes to accept baptism ­u nder duress.63 ­Under the circumstances, Salomone’s awareness of his u ­ ncle’s conversion may have eased his decision to follow in his footsteps. Thus, while some other Jews who faced painful execution remained steadfast in their refusal to convert, despite being keenly aware that by accepting baptism they could in the very least die a less cruel death (and, depending on the policy a­ dopted by local rulers, could sometimes even hope to save their skins),64 Arcangelo Maria’s nephew assented to apostasy. Perhaps, then, Salomone regarded baptism as an opportunity for a fresh start—­one that, like his ­u ncle’s conversion, would not demand a complete detachment from Jewish relatives and friends but would endear him to influential



A J ewish S odomite ?

Christian patrons. No less impor­tant, he must have also hoped for financial relief. As in the case of the two sodomites whom Zampante sentenced to death in 1493, Eleonora of Aragon was actively involved in securing Salomone’s pardoning in 1491. We can glean this from Eleonora’s letter to her d ­ aughter of September 10, 1491, which hints at her role in ensuring Duke Ercole’s pardoning of the downcast artist.65 The duchess, Salomone’s chief patron since 1487, wanted “her goldsmith,” as she repeatedly designated him, alive and ­f ree. Other Re­nais­sance princely rulers and their consorts, including Isabella d’Este, occasionally intervened in ­favor of the artists in their employ who ­were prosecuted for detestable crimes, in recognition of their exceptional talents. The artistic virtuosity of Benvenuto Cellini, for example, enabled him to get away not only with sodomy but also with other serious offenses. Indeed, upon hearing of Cellini’s involvement in hom­i­cide, his patron Pope Paul III (r. 1534–1549) explained that he should not be punished severely, ­because “men like Benvenuto, unique in their profession, must not be subject to the law.” 66 Salomone’s case, however, was dif­fer­ent. It was not only so that he could go on forging dazzling pieces of jewelry for her that the Duchess of Ferrara sought his p ­ ardon. Eleonora had her eye on a more eternal prize: securing the goldsmith’s conversion to Chris­tian­ity.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Conversions Voluntary and Coerced

A 

theological notion, the sacrament of baptism cleansed converts of their past sins. The indelible spiritual mark of baptism was assumed to have turned the neophyte into a new person, a change of identity that was affirmed by the ac­cep­t ance of a Christian name.1 While baptism always entailed spiritual rebirth, however, it did not necessarily imply physical salvation. Indeed, Christian theologians as well as canon ­lawyers distinguished between the fate of the soul and the fate of the body, claiming ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the former while relinquishing the latter to secular rulers, in whose hands lay the power to punish anyone who endangered the peace and order in their states.2 Princely rulers could opt to absolve convicted Jews who agreed to be baptized as an act of mercy, but they w ­ ere certainly not 3 required to do so. During the 1540s, Pope Paul III (r. 1534–1549) a­ dopted vari­ous mea­ sures that w ­ ere aimed at facilitating the conversion of non-­Christians, including the granting of worldly incentives to ­those who resolved to embrace Catholicism.4 Cardinal Guglielmo Sirleto (1514–1585), the first cardinal protector of the neophytes and catechumens, thereafter offered CCORDING TO A LONG-­S TANDING

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clemency to several criminals in return for their apostasy from Judaism.5 Nonetheless, even in the m ­ iddle and late sixteenth c­ entury, insisting on the absolution of condemned Jewish criminals who consented to baptism did not become official Church policy. Indeed, in 1558 Marquardus de Susannis (d. 1578)—­author of the first early modern synthesis of laws pertaining to the Jews—­presented the opinion that baptism should not lead to the exoneration of a convicted Jewish criminal as the majority stand on the ­m atter. De Susannis cited the towering figure of Re­n ais­sance jurist Filippo Decio (1454–1535) to support his claim, although he conceded that ­t here ­were dif­fer­ent opinions on this issue. 6 While pardoning Jewish offenders following their baptism never became official Church policy, in the course of the fifteenth c­ entury a growing number of civic authorities in central and northern Italy took the initiative to secure the conversion of condemned Jews. Magistrates offered the alternative of baptism not only to Jewish offenders convicted of crimes that ­were punishable by death but also to ­those who w ­ ere sentenced to bodily mutilation or to the payment of pecuniary penalties.7 Their willingness to do so reflected the importance ascribed to the conversion of the Jews—­which constituted a crucial part of the divine plan for the salvation of humankind 8 —as well as the increased efforts, on the part of ruling elites in the Quattrocento, to publicly manifest their Christian piety.9 Thus, while in the f­ ourteenth ­century Venetian authorities insisted on the judicial killing of Jewish criminals notwithstanding their conversion,10 by the 1440s consent to baptism enabled Jewish offenders in Venice to get away even with the rape of Christian girls, for which their Catholic counter­parts had ­l ittle hope of being absolved.11 Jews residing in states whose princely rulers favored the pardoning of Jewish felons in exchange for baptism ­were certainly aware of this conversionary policy. One Jew from Cremona, which belonged to the duchy of Milan, even attempted to manipulate it for his own ends. In 1465, this Jewish man approached a ducal official and asked that he charge him with a crime punishable by death. The Jew specifically requested that the Duke of Milan refuse to ­pardon him for his alleged transgression ­unless he and his ­family converted to Chris­tian­ity, explaining that this would force his wife, who had ­until then refused to follow him to the baptismal font, to fi­nally heed to his desire to do so.12

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Not all tribunals in the late fifteenth c­ entury ­were willing to offer baptized Jewish offenders a w ­ holesale absolution, though. Some refused to distinguish between the conversion of Jewish criminals and that of Christian felons who claimed to have repented their sins. From the theological standpoint, a conversio—­the turn of the soul ­toward the complete renunciation of sin—­indeed pertained not only to the transition from a non-­Catholic faith to Catholicism but also to the pursuit of a more au­ then­tic form of engagement with one’s natal religion. Hence, a Jew who turned away from his or her past blindness and embraced Chris­t ian­ity was assumed to have under­gone a conversio, comparable to that of a Catholic sinner who abandoned his past evil comportment.13 As Adriano Prosperi has shown, Catholic ecclesiastics ­were willing to challenge sovereign powers over the right of convicted lawbreakers to repent, refusing to allow them to extend the sentences decreed by earthly tribunals into eternal life. Concerned with the fate of the souls of condemned criminals, Church authorities insisted on providing them with the opportunity to die a good death and gain access to paradise. Saving the bodies of convicted Christian felons by pardoning them, however, remained the prerogative of the state; and while secular rulers and magistrates often agreed to grant repentant criminals a less painful killing, they rarely annulled their death sentences.14 One case in which a court of law insisted on treating a baptized Jewish criminal in the same way it dealt with “Old Christian” offenders occurred in Bologna, while Salomone da Sesso was still living in this city. In 1473, a Jew found guilty of having falsified coins was publicly executed, notwithstanding his baptism.15 Judicial tribunals such as the one in Bologna, however, risked a scandal that could constitute an offense to the sacrament of baptism—­which, as a ­matter of fact, did set baptized Jewish criminals apart from other culprits who claimed to have under­gone a conversio. This became apparent in Rome in 1486, when the assent of a convicted Jewish thief to baptism did not commute his death sentence. In the last moments of his life, a­ fter being baptized, the man refused to venerate the crucifix. His gestures ­were recorded by a chronicler, who remarked that the man wished to die as a Jew.16 The punitive advantages of the Roman convert’s killing, from the judicial perspective, ­were offset by the damage to public opinion concerning the validity of the sacrament of baptism, which was supposed to have purged his soul of Jewish obstinacy. A public embarrassment of

C onversions

the kind that occurred in Rome merely five years prior to Salomone da Sesso’s baptism could be prevented, if neophytes w ­ ere pardoned and released right a­ fter their baptism. In such a manner the sacramental rite, rather than an execution, was remembered as the last public ritual to be performed on them. This became the preferred choice in Ferrara during the reign of Eleonora of Aragon and Ercole d’Este. Like other Re­nais­sance rulers, Duke Ercole regarded the public execution as a dramatic lesson in justice that served to enhance his public image as a divinely ordained prince.17 He generally abstained from liberating repentant Christian criminals; however, when the condemned was Jewish, the duke considered offering him p ­ ardon in exchange for baptism. Instead of the “theater of terror” provided by a judicial killing that manifested the sovereign’s power to punish,18 in such cases Ercole chose to showcase his success in increasing the number of Christian souls by facilitating conversion from Judaism. Already in 1481, Duke Ercole pardoned a Jewish thief who had been sentenced to hanging but agreed to convert in order to evade a death sentence.19 The Ferrarese diarist Bernardino Zambotti (fl. 1476–1504) recounted this Jew’s baptism in the cathedral of Ferrara: “On Sunday, the feast day of the Annunciation of Our Lady, a Jew was baptized by the bishop’s vicar in front of the crucifix. He had stolen many t­ hings and was condemned to the gallows, and he said that if his life would be saved he would [agree to] be baptized. And this he did, and he received the name Giacomo and was dressed in white.”20 Zambotti, along with many of the other Ferrarese spectators who witnessed Giacomo’s baptismal ceremony, w ­ ere well aware that he converted in an effort to save his life. Nonetheless, the white robes that he donned, and his ac­cep­tance of a Christian name before the crucifix, represented the Jewish criminal’s spiritual rebirth thanks to the sacramental efficacy of the baptismal rite. Duke Ercole, who had agreed to absolve him, thereby turned the Jew’s conversion in the face of death into a public demonstration of his own Christian piety. Hence, when a de­cade ­a fter Giacomo’s baptism Ercole’s consort asked him to p ­ ardon her favorite goldsmith, who likewise consented to baptism, the duke gladly heeded her request. The condemnation and subsequent apostasy from Judaism of Salomone da Sesso unfolded at a time in which Eleonora of Aragon and Ercole d’Este also followed the vicissitudes of another prospective

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convert. This was a girl of sixteen or seventeen years, whose Jewish name is not mentioned in extant documentation. ­Daughter of the impoverished Ferrarese Jews Stella and Elia Caio, she was ultimately baptized on October 9, in the same ceremony in which Salomone received baptism.21 Since the stories of their conversions are entangled, we ­shall now turn to reconstructing the whereabouts of this young Jewess up to her baptism alongside the fallen goldsmith. In early July 1491, a Christian man who claimed to be in love with the Caios’ d ­ aughter connived with one of her neighbors, a w ­ oman named Magnana, and aided by one of his own servants helped the girl flee from home in order to convert and marry him. 22 The escape was a premeditated one, b ­ ecause when she ran away from her parents, the girl took with her “certain t­ hings, that is, the few possessions that they had.”23 Other Jewish girls who ­were enamored of Christian youths or escaped undesirable betrothals are similarly known to have taken valuables, including ­those kept by their parents as part of their own dowries, when fleeing home. 24 In keeping with common practice, the girl was put up at the ­house of a prominent Ferrarese citizen, to safeguard her honor.25 The h ­ ouse that she stayed in was that of the jurist Daniele degli Obizzi (or di Obici, d. 1504) and his wife, Antonia (b. 1433), a d ­ aughter of the noble Bevilacqua f­ amily.26 A wealthy Ferrarese aristocrat and former ducal secretary, Daniele was a close friend and collaborator of Gregorio Zampante, the Captain of Justice who, only a few weeks l­ ater, would interrogate Salomone in the judicial proceedings that would lead to the goldsmith’s own baptism.27 Stella and Elia immediately turned to Eleonora of Aragon, claiming that their ­daughter had been forcefully abducted (trafugata) to Daniele’s mansion. The duchess instructed the episcopal vicar and the inquisitor of Ferrara to look into the ­matter.28 She also entrusted Filippo Cestarelli, head of the city council (Giudice de’ XII Savi), to see to the Jews’ meeting with their ­daughter.29 Cestarelli’s appointment to the par­tic­u ­lar task of assisting Elia and Stella, however, was remarkably ill conceived, b ­ ecause of the open enmity between him and Daniele degli Obizzi. ­Earlier that very month, Cestarelli and Degli Obizzi competed for the post of Giudice de’ XII Savi, and Daniele was manifestly unhappy with the duke’s decision to appoint his rival. 30 Not surprisingly, he ignored Cestarelli’s request to allow the Caios to meet with their d ­ aughter.

C onversions

Twice the parents ­were turned away from the Degli Obizzi residence. ­A fter they succeeded on their third attempt, the wealthy merchant Gaspare delle Fructe convinced several Christian ­women to dissuade their ­d aughter from talking to them. 31 At the same time, Daniele’s servants made much commotion, warning Stella and Elia to keep away from their ­d aughter. Daniele fi­nally agreed to let them talk to the girl through an open win­dow. Fearing for their lives, yet moved “by the zeal of love,” the parents approached the win­dow as instructed, but at this point Daniele’s wife, Antonia, intervened. She tried to stop them, claiming that she knew Elia was carry­ing a knife and would attempt to kill his d ­ aughter ­because of her intention to embrace Chris­tian­ity. According to a letter sent on the Caios’ behalf immediately following the dramatic encounter, The poor man [Elia Caio] undressed and showed them that he had no knife on him, but then she [Antonia] also began saying that they did not wish the ­mother to come near [the girl] b ­ ecause she would bite off her nose, and ­these dishonest ­people began to hit and mock [the Jewish ­couple]. The ­mother nonetheless began talking to the girl, and immediately the two of them started crying, and the girl said that she had done this ­because at home she lived on nothing but bread and ­water, and in the most shameful state. And the aforementioned Gaspare [delle Fructe] immediately entered the room with fury, and closed the win­dow. 32

In early modern Italy, facial disfigurement was regarded as a sex-­ specific chastisement particularly suited for ­women who had transgressed their community’s norms of sexual be­hav­ior, since it was aimed at making them unattractive to men by destroying their beauty.33 By accusing Stella Caio of planning to bite off her ­daughter’s nose, Antonia Bevilacqua thus revealed an awareness of the severity with which Jewish society perceived the sexual liaisons of female Jews with Christian men—­ which rabbinic authorities had, indeed, traditionally regarded as the main motivation for ­women’s apostasy from Judaism.34 Antonia implied that the girl’s ­mother would attempt to punish her for having contravened her community’s taboo by making her repulsive to the man whose desire for her had brought about her decision to apostatize. The parents’ account of the events points to other motivations under­lying the girl’s resolution to flee from home, namely, economic

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distress. A ­ fter she was heard affirming through the open win­dow that her wish to convert derived from her ­family’s poverty, Daniele degli Obizzi prevented Stella and Elia from continuing to talk to her. Gaspare delle Fructe and Ercole d’Este’s current Fattore Generale, Antonio Maria Guarnieri, both backed him.35 Like Daniele degli Obizzi, Guarnieri was a known adversary of Cestarelli, the man charged with assisting the dismal parents. 36 Helpless against two of Ferrara’s most power­ful officials, Stella and Elia left the premises, and on July 29 they had their version of the events written down and sent to Eleonora of Aragon. In their plea, which was apparently drafted by a learned member of their community, the parents reiterated their desire to ascertain ­whether or not their ­d aughter truly wished to embrace Chris­tian­ity. If this was indeed the case, they declared, they would remain satisfied, but they w ­ ere convinced that the duchess herself, in keeping with Christian law, would oppose the girl’s forced conversion. As long as she was detained by Daniele degli Obizzi and his supporters, the Jews protested, their ­daughter could not freely express her true intent. They therefore asked Eleonora to secure the girl’s transfer to another place, where they would be able to speak to her “in our language”—­that is, in Judeo-­Ferrarese.37 They promised to do so without pestering their ­daughter and, if the duchess deemed this necessary, ­were willing to have the encounter supervised by a clergyman. 38 Eleonora of Aragon disregarded the Caios’ request. They w ­ ere never allowed to see the report concerning their d ­ aughter’s flight from home, which the duchess had instructed Ferrara’s inquisitor to prepare, and violent threats kept them away from the h ­ ouse in which the girl was staying. In despair, the ­couple now turned directly to Duke Ercole. A plea sent on their behalf on August 21, 1491—­just a few days prior to Salomone da Sesso’s arrest in Ferrara—­reminded the duke of the importance that Christian theologians ascribed to the exercise of ­free ­w ill in ­matters of conscience, including a person’s religious conversion. As long as the Jewish girl was subject to the pressure exerted by Daniele degli Obizzi, his servants, and his power­f ul friends, she could not freely contemplate the implications of her conversion. Hence, her parents urged Ercole d’Este to have the Jewess placed “in a convent or in another neutral place, in which we ­will be able to freely converse with her, and understand ­whether she wishes to become a Christian.”39 If she was being coerced

C onversions

into converting, the duke had to intervene, lest this pave the way to the kidnapping of other Jewish girls, who would be abducted and forcibly baptized. By this time, Elia and Stella must have known that the likelihood of their d ­ aughter’s return was meager in the extreme. More than a month had tran­spired since she had run away, and influential Ferrarese aristocrats had set their minds on seeing her baptized. Whereas in their previous letter to the duchess the ­couple made no mention of the possessions that their ­d aughter had taken from them, in their missive to the duke they promised to cease trying to deter her from being baptized provided that she expressed this intention freely, but insisted that their belongings be returned to them.40 Ercole d’Este did not grant the Caios further access to their d ­ aughter. As in Salomone da Sesso’s case, the duke w ­ holeheartedly backed his wife in her enthusiastic support of the attempts to augment the number of Jewish converts. A month and a half a­ fter Stella and Elia had their letter dispatched to the duke, their ­d aughter was solemnly baptized in Ferrara’s cathedral, together with Salomone and his eldest son. Duchess Eleonora herself offered to provide the new clothes that the girl was to wear at her baptism ceremony, and Antonia, Daniele degli Obizzi’s wife, was rewarded for her efforts to secure the girl’s conversion when the latter received the new Christian name Anna Antonia, in honor of her unswerving patroness.41 The letters sent at the behest of Elia and Stella Caio ­were meant to remind Eleonora of Aragon and Ercole d’Este of the importance of converting of one’s f­ ree choice—­a notion that indeed lay at the core of the theory of Christian conversion since the time of St. Augustine, who asserted that a person cannot believe without willing to believe. Following the fifth-­century Church ­father, Catholic theologians reiterated the view that a forced conversion cannot be a valid one.42 Displaying an impressive awareness of the theological understanding of Christian conversion, the second letter sent on the Caios’ behalf argued that a person’s conversio had to be an internal one, ­f ree from external coercion. In the minds of Duchess Eleonora and Duke Ercole, though, preventing a girl who had run away from home from talking to her parents, or subjecting her to vari­ous types of persuasion, did not constitute the kind of pressure that rendered void her consent to baptism.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Princely Justice and Christian Piety

F

J EWISH conversions evidently figured high on the Duchess of Ferrara’s agenda in the summer of 1491. Just a few days a­ fter the Caios sent their last plea to Duke Ercole, his consort secured the baptism of her favorite goldsmith. Then, on September 10, she beseeched her ­d aughter, Isabella, to convince Francesco Gonzaga to absolve Salomone’s relative Angelo in exchange for his baptism, “so that this w ­ ill be 1 a double gain.” Knowing that only a freely chosen conversion would be considered religiously valid, Eleonora dutifully affirmed that Salomone “has repented, and de­cided to become a Christian, and his Excellency the most illustrious lord Duke our consort thought to ­pardon him.”2 Ducal clemency, in this narrative, followed the goldsmith’s genuine turn of the soul, rather than prompting his resolution to convert. Moving on to discuss the conversion of Angelo di Vitale, however, Eleonora merely noted that the Jewish delinquent “has also converted and wants to become a Christian.”3 According to the duchess, this alone justified pardoning him, b ­ ecause his public execution would entail the “loss” of a newly acquired Christian soul. This line of logic was, of course, theologically ACILITATING

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flawed b ­ ecause as far as souls ­were concerned, only mortal sin, not a person’s physical demise, amounted to a loss. Catholic theologians not only did not regard the public execution of Christians as the “loss” of their souls but also portrayed the moment of repentant sinners’ judicial killing as one in which new souls ­were created in heaven.4 ­Later correspondence written by the Duchess of Ferrara indicates that she was well aware of the orthodox view concerning the distinction between the fate of an executed criminal’s body and that of his soul. 5 In her dispatch to her ­d aughter, however, Eleonora was primarily interested in the practical fruits of conversion, and especially in the benefits that could be derived from the public visibility of a Jew who elected to cross over to the Christian side. 6 On the day Eleonora drafted her letter to Isabella, the Marquis of Mantua ratified Angelo’s death sentence and ordered that he be sent to the gallows.7 Yet, since Francesco was absent from Mantua at the time and on his way to Venice, the execution was not performed ­because it soon became known that the culprit had been baptized in jail. 8 The priest who delivered the sacrament to him at the prisoners’ chapel was the archdeacon of Mantua, Don Benedetto Mastino.9 Isabella herself was likely involved in getting Mastino to baptize the imprisoned Jew; in 1491, she also turned to the archdeacon for assistance in other delicate m ­ atters that required sacerdotal involvement.10 On September 15, Isabella did as her ­mother requested and wrote to her consort, asking him to absolve Angelo di Vitale.11 Echoing Eleonora’s missive of September 10, she noted that her ­father had already pardoned Salomone da Sesso “in order to gain his soul” once he consented to baptism, and she beseeched Francesco to exercise clemency in Angelo’s case ­because he, too, repented his errors and wished “to live as a good man and a good Christian.” The erudite marchioness affirmed that sparing a delinquent Jew’s life would be a merciful deed, in compliance with a tradition instituted by Christ. To support this claim she quoted, in Latin, the verse from Ezekiel 33:11: “nolo mortem peccatoris, sed ut convertatur, et vivat” (I ­will not the death of a sinner, but that he be converted and live).12 The literal understanding of the biblical verse was that a­ fter conversion a sinner should remain alive, as a changed person, but medieval theologians twisted its meaning to imply a license for secular authorities to kill condemned criminals, as long as they allowed ecclesiastical authorities

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to prevent their more horrifying second death, that of their souls. The word vivat was taken to refer to the state of the condemned person’s soul—­t hat is, to the eternal life that genuine conversion ensured, notwithstanding the public execution that terminated the lawbreaker’s life on earth.13 Isabella’s use of the scriptural text, then, was more faithful to its original meaning than common theological interpretation in the fifteenth c­ entury had it. As Mantua’s coruler, she was in a position to openly advocate for a condemned offender and to intervene in ­matters concerning the administration of temporal justice.14 It was precisely this prerogative she exercised when she requested that her consort grant Angelo the grace of revoking his death sentence. While Isabella was dispatching the letter to her consort, however, Francesco was busy sending a missive of his own to the podesta of Mantua. The marquis claimed to have received a complaint from the leaders of the Mantuan Jewish populace, which he forwarded to Ermolao Bardolini, about the delay in carry­ing out Angelo’s hanging. Like most letters of this kind, the dispatch penned by “our Jews of Mantua,” as the marquis referred to them,15 was not kept along with the copies of his own correspondence.16 Nonetheless, Francesco’s letter makes it clear that prominent members of the Mantuan Jewish community not only had incriminated Angelo di Vitale in the first place but also w ­ ere intent on securing his execution. The evidence, however, does not add up. It is difficult to believe that such animus could have been provoked by the crimes to which Angelo confessed ­u nder torture, namely, stealing from another Jew, trading in stolen goods, and consorting with a Christian ­woman. Rather, we seem to be dealing with a dif­fer­ent set of perceptions, recalling the Mantuan Jews’ view of Angelo’s relation, Salomone, as a community menace. ­Whether Angelo earned a similar reputation through sins of commission or simply association with Salomone is not clear. What­ever the case, having lost hope of having Salomone pay with his life for his misdeeds—­ which had upset “all the Jews who are ­there”17—­following his exoneration by Duke Ercole d’Este, Bonaventura and other key figures of Mantua’s Jewry w ­ ere determined that Angelo, at least, would not be let off the hook. In this spirit, Mantua’s Jewish leaders sent a missive to Marquis Francesco informing him that a certain procuratore (­legal representative)



P rincely J ustice and C hristian P iety

had appeared on Angelo’s behalf, asserting that the life of the neophyte should be spared b ­ ecause he was now a new person, no longer called Angelo. The procuratore spelled out the ramifications of the theological understanding of baptism, which turned Angelo into a man who was not the same as the Jew guilty of the crimes for which Bardolini had convicted him. The plea fell on deaf ears: Francesco Gonzaga dismissed this argument as “frivolous reasoning.”18 Angelo’s new name meant nothing to him; it was justice that he was a­ fter. In keeping with the protective attitude that characterized his Jewry policy during the first de­ cade of his rule,19 the marquis unreservedly backed the Jews of Mantua in their grudge against Salomone’s relative and ordered that Angelo be hanged by the following Monday. He further instructed the podesta to ascertain the identity of the man who, being “such a [devout] Catholic,” intervened on behalf of the baptized Jew. 20 Writing to Isabella on September 17, the marquis asked his consort to forgive his denial of her request to ­pardon the neophyte. Francesco argued that if Angelo’s conversion had been motivated by a genuine concern for the state of his soul, death should please him; it would be better for him to die while in a state of grace, right ­after the baptism that purged his past sins and before he had the chance to sin again. Countering Eleonora of Aragon’s e­ arlier designation of a baptized Jew’s execution as a “loss,” Francesco reiterated the prevailing theological stance, which distinguished between the physical death of a converted criminal and the salvation of his soul.21 The marquis’s next remark disclosed his distrust of the efficacy of involuntary conversion. Having been such a bad Jew, he asserted, Angelo would have turned into “an even worse Christian.” Whereas both his mother-­in-­law and his father-­in-­law avidly supported the baptism of Jewish criminals who feared for their lives, deeming their conversions ­under duress as both valid and legitimate, Francesco questioned w ­ hether this kind of conversion could be prompted by a true change of heart. Presuming that Jews baptized in such questionable circumstances ­were morally depraved, the marquis supposed that they would lack the perseverance required to become decent Catholics.22 A death that occurred shortly ­a fter their conversion could thus guarantee its definitive nature and prevent such neophytes from becoming an embarrassment to their newly ­a dopted faith. 23 The marquis went even further and suggested—­

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Fig.  7. ​Virgin and Child (known as the Madonna della Vittoria), by Andrea Mantegna. 1496. Detail showing Francesco Gonzaga, the Marquis of Mantua. Paris, Musée du Louvre. Photo © RMN-­Grand Palais (Musée du Louvre) / Jean-­Gilles Berizzi. Reproduced with permission.



P rincely J ustice and C hristian P iety

pace Eleonora of Aragon’s missive of September 10—­that hanging him was the only way to ensure that Angelo’s soul would not be lost!24 While the idea that inflicting a death sentence on baptized Jews preserved rather than endangered their souls was a theologically sound one, as we saw ­earlier, ­there ­were differing opinions regarding the judicial implications of baptism in the case of convicted criminals. In his missive to Francesco of September 17, Bardolini sought to call Francesco’s attention to the diverse stances on the m ­ atter.25 The podesta informed the marquis that the procuratore who took on Angelo’s case was Giacomo Marasca, a notary working for the clergy of Mantua’s cathedral.26 Citing scriptures, Marasca argued that the power of the sacrament of baptism was such that it had purged the guilt of all of Angelo’s previous offenses, so he no longer deserved to be punished for the crimes that he had supposedly committed as a Jew. Having heard his reasoning, Bardolini maintained, he had resolved to ascertain the canon law standpoint on the baptism of convicted criminals. He discovered that ­there ­were several opinions on the ­matter, but he argued—­contrary to the claim that De Susannis was to make in 155827—­that the more commonly held judicial stance was that “one does not proceed against such a baptized [Jew], out of reverence for the sacrament of baptism.”28 Now the Duke of Ferrara intervened personally. In a letter addressed to Isabella d’Este on September 19, he asked his ­daughter to do all within her power to impede the convert’s execution. Ercole d’Este explained that he “did not wish the aforementioned Angelo to perish, especially since he has converted to Chris­tian­ity.”29 Interestingly Ercole, like his son-­in-­law, continued to refer to the baptized Jew as Angelo and not by his Christian name, which, in fact, is missing from all extant correspondence pertaining to the neophyte’s postbaptismal fate. If Isabella did not have the authority to commute Angelo’s death sentence, the duke added, she should at least try to postpone his hanging ­until Francesco Gonzaga returned from Venice. On his way back, the marquis was supposed to pass through Ferrara, and Ercole planned on asking him in person to spare Angelo’s life. For the time being, however, Francesco remained steadfast in insisting on Angelo’s capital punishment. On September 20, he sent his podesta another dispatch, stating that he had received his letter of September 17 but remained unconvinced about the theological reasoning

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for absolving Angelo. Public executions ­were, ­a fter all, the most power­ful symbols of the authority of early modern states, and the marquis wanted Angelo’s hanging to be a memorable one.30 Hence, he repeated his order to have the criminal hanged, specifying that this should be done at once. He added that Angelo’s corpse should be left on public display, as a deterrent to crime. 31 Nonetheless, the following day Francesco fi­nally reached Ferrara and met his father-­in-­law, who entreated him to ­pardon Salomone da Sesso’s relative as a personal f­ avor. At this point, the marquis conceded the request, and Ercole d’Este immediately asked his ­daughter to have Angelo liberated. The ­horse­man who brought the duke’s letter, along with Francesco’s written consent for Angelo’s release, was to escort the neophyte to Ferrara. 32 Isabella ordered the baptized Jew’s release and a complete exoneration of his past transgressions. 33 Continuing the saga, however, hard upon receiving the letter from Ferrara, which was sealed with her ­father’s seal, an ­earlier missive sent by Francesco Gonzaga to Ermolao Bardolini arrived in Mantua, enjoining the podesta to have Angelo hanged. 34 Isabella dispatched an urgent letter to her husband, asking him to confirm his consent to the condemned criminal’s liberation. 35 On September 22, the marquis replied, in a letter bearing his personal seal, affirming that although Angelo r­ eally did merit a capital punishment—on which Francesco had insisted in his previous correspondence with Bardolini—he now agreed to ­pardon him, in compliance with Duke Ercole’s request. 36 Once this response reached Mantua, on September 23, the podesta set Angelo ­f ree. 37 Although he eventually bent to the unrelenting demands of his wife’s f­ amily, Francesco Gonzaga remained upset about Angelo’s absolution. He thus ordered an investigation of all the men in Mantua who had participated in the efforts to have the Jewish culprit baptized and subsequently pardoned. On September 25, Francesco’s secretary Antimaco informed him that a man known as “Il Cremaschino” was on his way to meet the marquis in Marmirolo, aiming to explain the turn of events. Il Cremaschino admitted that he had been responsible for appointing Giacomo Marasca to act as Angelo’s procuratore. He claimed to have been instructed to do so by Don Benedetto Mastino, the man who had baptized the Jew in Mantua’s jail in the first place. 38 Marquis Francesco hardly concealed his anger at the archdeacon—­a celebrated jurist



P rincely J ustice and C hristian P iety

and canonist who was also a long-­standing protégé of the Gonzaga rulers of Mantua. 39 On September 26, Don Benedetto Mastino penned an apology to the marquis. “Having heard that Your Excellency is angered and disturbed against us ­because of this baptized Jew,” the archdeacon affirmed, he wished to declare his innocence in the m ­ atter. Should Francesco’s investigation prove that he had knowingly defied his ­orders, Mastino added, he would willingly undergo “the most ­bitter punishment in the world.” 40 In his defense, he contended that the Lateran Canons of San Ruffino in Mantua had talked him into baptizing Angelo and that, at the time, he had not been aware of Francesco’s wish to have the Jew punished by death for his misdemeanors.41 It is difficult to take this affirmation at face value, since Eleonora of Aragon’s letter of September 10 makes it pretty clear that Angelo only agreed to be baptized in the hope of saving his life.42 More plausibly, Don Benedetto had been aware of the death sentence yet agreed to baptize the Jew to ensure the salvation of his soul. Catholic ecclesiastics upheld their right to care for the fate of the souls of convicted offenders, but this was a major bone of contention between Church and state in premodern Eu­rope.43 Tellingly, the archdeacon was careful to avoid the impression that he had been trying to interfere in m ­ atters pertaining to the state. Hence, he asserted that he merely carried out his priestly obligations—­that is, delivered the sacrament to a Jew who expressed his desire to become a Christian—­a ssuming that Marquis Francesco did not object to it. Had he known of the verdict against Angelo, Mastino added, he would never have thought to baptize him, ­because it would have made no sense to have the Jew receive the sacrament of baptism and then be deprived of his life or his limbs. Emphasizing his Jewishness, which distinguished Angelo from other condemned criminals, the archdeacon h ­ ere reiterated the notion that Bardolini had designated ­earlier as the prevailing judicial stand, namely, that capital punishment should not be inflicted on criminals a­ fter their baptism, out of re­spect for this sacrament.44 Don Benedetto declared that a­ fter Angelo’s baptism it no longer mattered to him ­whether the convert remained alive or died, and he therefore did not attempt to persuade the podesta to absolve him, nor did he ask anyone e­ lse to intervene in the affair. He further added that, as far as he was concerned, “the faster he [Angelo] dies, the sooner he w ­ ill reach

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paradise and pray to God for me.” 45 Thus, he r­ eally had no reason to try and delay Angelo’s death. This statement accords with Francesco Gonzaga’s ­earlier affirmation, in his letter to Isabella d’Este, that immediate death would be more beneficial for a baptized Jewish felon than a p ­ ardon ­because it would ensure his soul’s ac­cep­tance into heaven before he had the chance to sin again.46 Mastino was careful not to question the distinction between the fate of a convert’s body and that of his soul, which Marquis Francesco had similarly emphasized in his message to Isabella of September 17.47 Although Don Benedetto’s delivering of the sacrament of baptism to the imprisoned Jew facilitated his release, the archdeacon did not dare to openly challenge Francesco Gonzaga’s temporal authority. Moreover, while the archdeacon favored the convert’s pardoning and sought out a ­legal representative who would impede his execution, Angelo’s life was eventually saved only thanks to the pressure exerted by another secular power. Both the Duke of Ferrara, who was instrumental in obtaining his ­pardon, and his son-­i n-­law, who opposed it, acted on the premise that God placed the sword of justice in their hands, as Christian princes entrusted with impeding sin.48 The Marquis of Mantua, however, remained staunch in his belief that baptized Jewish felons should not be treated differently from other converted criminals. The correspondence exchanged at a dizzying pace between the ­houses of Este and Gonzaga discloses the desire of their members to see Angelo hanged on the one hand, or released on the other, their thoughts about the meaning of religious conversion and its judicial implications, and their attitudes t­ oward the public display of Christian piety vis-­à-­vis princely justice. We learn, then, a ­g reat deal about the interior world of the rulers of Mantua and Ferrara from the missives that ­t hese Re­nais­ sance ­women and men dictated to their scribes. The carefully crafted letters of Eleonora of Aragon, Isabella d’Este, Francesco Gonzaga, and Ercole d’Este ­were impor­t ant means of self-­fashioning, aimed at enhancing their princely images while stressing dif­fer­ent aspects—­notably their authoritativeness, their clemency, their religious devotion, or their commitment to the protection of public peace and justice.49 The controversy surrounding Angelo’s baptism also enables us to catch a glimpse of the views upheld by local ecclesiastics such as Mantua’s archdeacon, or by the state functionary Ermolao Bardolini, who



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addressed their pleas to the Marquis of Mantua. Conspicuously missing from the vociferous debate over the neophyte’s fate, however, is Angelo’s own voice. Letters written at the behest of o ­ thers reveal that by 1491 he was the f­ ather of at least one adult son, named Simone. They also indicate that a­ fter his incarceration in the summer of that year, Angelo withstood the torture of three jerks of the rope, without admitting to the crimes of which he was accused; but then Simone, too, was imprisoned and faced examination u ­ nder torture. Significantly, it was only a­ fter his son’s arrest that Angelo confessed to having committed a series of felonies, some of which w ­ ere reportedly directed against Mantuan Jews. We might speculate, then, that Angelo’s admission of guilt was driven by a desire to protect his son. That Simone’s name does not appear in the subsequent exchange of letters about his f­ ather’s conviction lends weight to this conjecture. 50 Poised to ascend the scaffold, as it ­were, Angelo was offered the opportunity of crossing over to the Catholic camp. The Lateran Canons of San Ruffino prob­ably told him about the conversion of Salomone, in Ferrara, implanting in his mind the possibility that in agreeing to baptism, he, too, would be granted p ­ ardon—or at least a more merciful judicial killing. Angelo certainly accepted baptism in an effort to save his skin. Yet, he may have taken heart from the knowledge that a kinsman had just done the same. Moreover, he must have shared Salomone da Sesso’s expressed hatred ­toward the Jews of Mantua, who had not only incriminated him and his son but also strove to secure his public execution. This resentment may have eased Angelo’s resolution to apostatize. The highly biased nature of extant documentation, which reflects the concerns of the Christian elites of the princely states of Ferrara and Mantua, makes it difficult to say more about Angelo’s state of mind during the months of August and September 1491. Predictably for converts in pre-­Tridentine Italy, his own thoughts and feelings about his judicial examination and ensuing apostasy w ­ ere nowhere recorded.51 No ego-­document in the form of a letter that he authored, or even of the transcription of a confession elicited in the course of his interrogation ­u nder torture, has been discovered. 52 Indeed, we never encounter this protagonist of a drama, which ignited a heated debate about Jewish conversion u ­ nder duress, as an active historical subject. In the sources, he appears as an object of discussion, with o ­ thers reflecting first on the

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question of his presumed guilt and then on the consequences of his baptism. Although Salomone himself referred to Angelo di Vitale as his relative, Eleonora of Aragon designated him in one of her missives as the goldsmith’s servant, alluding to his lowlier social standing. An undistinguished fifteenth-­century Jew, Angelo left a paper trail that cannot compare to that of his celebrated relative, Salomone, whose own letters ­were preserved at the Gonzaga archive and who continued to figure in the correspondence of members of the Ferrarese and Mantuan courts for three de­cades ­a fter his baptism. The aristocratic rulers who lauded Salomone’s artistry in their dispatches did not even bother to note the new baptismal name of Angelo di Vitale in their missives of September 1491. ­A fter his release from prison on September 23, Salomone’s humbler relative vanished from the historical rec­ord. We know, however, that the very day Angelo was freed and set out on his way to Ferrara, a detestable atrocity was committed in this city. Zilfredo (or Gilfredo) de’ Cavalli, a sixty-­five-­year-­old jurist, was murdered in his own home, while sitting by the fireplace. The killers ­were the victim’s three young nephews from Verona, who wanted to get hold of his possessions. Zilfredo was a prominent professor of law at the Ferrarese studium who occasionally counseled Ercole d’Este on l­ egal ­matters, and his brutal hom­i­cide in the privacy of his h ­ ouse­hold enraged the duke and heightened the anxiety of respectable Ferrarese citizens. 53 On September 24, immediately a­ fter Zilfredo’s funeral, Duke Ercole issued a special proclamation promising the unheard-of sum of 200 ducats to anyone who would come forward with information about the murderers. Zilfredo’s nephews ­were caught three days ­later and brought to Ferrara’s Captain of Justice. Bernardo, one of the three, was a cleric in minor ­orders and was thus exempt from trial by a civil court, so a special request allowing Ferrarese authorities to prosecute him had to be dispatched to Rome. Gregorio Zampante sentenced the other two ­brothers, Cesare and Niccolò, to death by decapitation. Their beheading in Ferrara’s main square was scheduled for Monday, October 10—­a day ­after the baptism ceremony of Salomone da Sesso and his son Graziadio, together with the ­daughter of Stella and Elia Caio, which was planned for Sunday and was to take place in the Ferrarese cathedral. 54



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Like Salomone and Angelo di Vitale, the sixteen-­year-­old Niccolò claimed ­a fter his conviction to have under­gone a conversio, a turn of the soul that, in his case, led not only to the repentance of his past sins but also to the wish to dedicate his life to Christ by becoming a friar. Like other young men in northern Italy who expressed their intention to enter holy ­orders ­a fter committing serious crimes, Niccolò was backed by an influential clergyman. 55 This one was none other than Fra Mariano da Genazzano, the Augustinian preacher who had incited his listeners in Ferrara against Jewish moneylending just a few months ­earlier. 56 Fra Mariano was a favorite of Eleonora of Aragon, who oversaw the construction of a monastic cell for him at the monastery of Sant’Andrea.57 Early October saw both the duchess and the duke, along with their courtiers, playing audience to the charismatic preacher on a daily basis. According to Bernardino de’ Prosperi, Ercole d’Este even scheduled his departure from the city to hunt wild boar to allow for his daily dose of Fra Mariano’s sermons. 58 The duke eventually left Ferrara on October 4, shortly a­ fter the verdict of Niccolò and Cesare of Verona had been decreed. Upon arriving in Comacchio, however, Ercole d’Este received a letter from his consort, who asked him to consider pardoning Niccolò ­because he not only was a repentant sinner but also wished to become a friar. Eleonora of Aragon attached a letter from Fra Mariano and a plea written by the convicted murderer himself. 59 Upholding the same theory of conversion that underlay Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 15, 60 Fra Mariano urged the Ferrarese duke to spare the life of a criminal who had experienced a conversio. Apparently, the Augustinian preacher hoped to convince Ercole d’Este to p ­ ardon Niccolò, just as the duke had agreed to exonerate Salomone da Sesso and had pressured his son-­in-­law to absolve Angelo di Vitale when t­ hese convicted Jewish criminals had agreed to convert. In Ercole’s view, however, the conversion of a Christian was not the equivalent of a Jew’s conversion to Catholicism. Involving a sacrament that was supposed to bring about a Jew’s spiritual rebirth as a Christian, thereby augmenting the number of Catholics in his state, the latter was such a desired outcome that it justified exceptional means, including the annulment of a felon’s death sentence. When the repentant criminal was a born Christian, though, the Duke of Ferrara valued the

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public display of the sovereign’s punitive powers over the manifestation of clemency just as keenly as the Marquis of Mantua did. During Duke Ercole’s reign, judicial killings ­were always held in Ferrara’s main square and not outside the city walls, as was common practice in other Italian states. The exercise of princely justice was meant to draw a crowd, and all capital punishments ­were recorded in writing. 61 Ercole d’Este had no intention of showing mercy in the case of a Christian youth who had murdered the duke’s own trusted l­egal counselor. So on October 9, he informed his consort: Having carefully considered all that Your Ladyship has reminded us of in this ­matter, we ­w ill tell Your Ladyship that which we w ­ ill reply to the aforementioned Revered Fra Mariano. That is, that it truly remains so that this case is of a kind in which we cannot, and should not, exercise any clemency other than that which is required by the dictates of justice. ­Because if we proceed other­w ise we know very well what the results of this w ­ ill be, and how much we w ­ ill be at fault, and also the bad example that this ­w ill provide for the wicked, to do worse. In this m ­ atter Your Ladyship can only forgive us, and ask our Fra Mariano to forgive us, in addition to the response that we w ­ ill write to him [directly], since it pains us too much not to be able to please him, both b ­ ecause of the love that we feel for him and b ­ ecause we are inclined ­toward clemency, but in this case our honor requires that which justice demands, for the aforementioned reasons and for many o ­ thers that we can adduce.62

Fra Mariano, who strove to persuade Duke Ercole to ­pardon Niccolò of Verona following his alleged conversio, was known for the anti-­Jewish tenor of the sermons that he delivered in Ferrara in the early 1490s. As already noted, while preaching in this city in Lent 1491, the friar stirred his audience against the local Jews. Three years l­ ater, in 1494, a Ferrarese chronicler implied a connection between the contents of Fra Mariano’s Eastertime sermons and the decision of several Jews, who had come to Ferrara following their expulsion from Spain in 1492, to convert to Chris­ tian­ity.63 The Augustinian friar clearly favored Jewish conversion. This, and his documented attempts to secure the release of a repentant crim-



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inal in Ferrara shortly before Salomone da Sesso was baptized, suggest that Fra Mariano was most likely also involved in arranging the goldsmith’s baptism. Fra Mariano was the primary religious figure in Ferrara in the weeks that tran­spired between Salomone’s arrest, in the last days of August or the first days of September, and the ceremony celebrating his conversion on October 9, 1491. During this time, Salomone received catechetical instruction, which enabled him to prepare the oration that he was compelled to deliver from the pulpit of Ferrara’s cathedral. In this public address, Salomone displayed his knowledge of the main tenets of Catholicism, explicating the Christian meaning of several Old Testament prophecies.64 Although the goldsmith was literate and had a basic knowledge of Hebrew scriptures, he did not devote his time to learning and would not have been able to deliver an erudite speech on the truths of Catholicism without prior instruction from a local clergyman. Duchess Eleonora, who served as his godmother and ­later extolled the eloquence of his oration, must have had Fra Mariano, the famous preacher, help the goldsmith to prepare it.65 Interestingly, Duke Ercole, who had pardoned Salomone upon the latter’s consent to become a Christian, was away on a hunting trip on the day of the goldsmith’s baptism. The duke’s passion for hunting was well known, and he left Duchess Eleonora in charge of ­running his state while pursuing it.66 Nonetheless, Ercole’s departure from Ferrara was still early in the boar hunting season, and he would have certainly been able to lead an enjoyable hunting trip even if he had postponed it ­u ntil ­a fter Salomone’s baptism.67 As a m ­ atter of fact, his sons Alfonso and Ferrante, who ­were to join him for the expedition, left Ferrara only ­after the baptismal ceremony, in which the former took an active part as godfather to Salomone’s nine-­year-­old son.68 That Ercole did not deem it sufficiently impor­tant to remain in Ferrara with his sons ­until ­a fter he presented the goldsmith at the baptismal font suggests that Eleonora of Aragon was the force ­behind the double conversion and subsequent pardoning of the convicted Jews Salomone and Angelo. That Eleonora, rather than her husband, came to the fore as Salomone’s pious benefactor and oversaw the staging of his baptismal ceremony was certainly in line with her public reputation as the more devout consort of the ruling ­couple.69 The duchess not only presented Salomone

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at the baptismal font in her capacity as his godmother but also sponsored his baptism ceremony and the banquet that followed it.70 Whereas Angelo di Vitale had been baptized in haste and secrecy at the chapel of Mantua’s prison, Eleonora carefully orchestrated the conversion ceremony of her court goldsmith, ensuring that Salomone’s baptism would be remembered as a spectacular manifestation of Chris­tian­ity’s triumph over Judaism.

CHAPTER NINE

Baptizing the Jews

E

the baptism of Jews, t­ hose “unbelievers par excellence,” more than the baptism of all other non-­Christian individuals.1 Hence, Jewish conversions ­were to be celebrated with public festivities and carried out with splendor, both in order to lure other Jews to Chris­tian­ity and as a symbol of the Church’s abiding vigor. A ­ fter the outbreak of the Lutheran Reformation, leading religious figures such as Ignatius Loyola (1491–1556) and Pope Pius V (r. 1566–1572) became increasingly involved in organ­izing such baptismal cele­brations as a manifestation of their commitment to the missionary goal of converting the Jews, which epitomized the rejuvenation of the Catholic Church. 2 The baptismal ceremony that was performed with notable pomp in Ferrara in 1491, however, attests to the leading roles that members of Italian lay elites assumed in organ­i zing similar cele­brations already in the pre-­ Tridentine era, when Jewish conversions in the central and northern parts of the peninsula ­were still quite sporadic. Baptisms of Jews w ­ ere celebrated in Ferrara in 1481, 1494, and 1496, and local chroniclers recorded them as memorable events. 3 Nonetheless, the 1491 conversion of the high-­profile Jewish artist Salomone da Sesso CCLESIASTICAL AUTHORITIES VALUED

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was evidently valued as a particularly noteworthy ­matter.4 As such, it was described in detail in at least four letters, on top of the customary account in a Ferrarese chronicle. On October  10, three letters recounting the cele­bration of Salomone’s baptism w ­ ere sent to Isabella d’Este by her trusted in­for­mants in Ferrara. In addition to the accounts offered by the ducal cancelliere Bernardino de’ Prosperi and the courtier Francesco da Bagnacavallo, discussed e­ arlier, the Ferrarese nobleman Girolamo Magnanino (or Magnanimi, d. c. 1549) also described the ceremony in his missive to the marchioness. 5 A day ­later, Eleonora of Aragon reported the baptism of her Jewish protégé in a dispatch to her husband.6 The least informative account of the event is the one provided by the Ferrarese diarist Bernardino Zambotti,7 but taken together the five sources make it pos­si­ble to reconstruct the details of the ceremony that was celebrated in Ferrara on Sunday, October 9. 8 The cele­brations began with a solemn pro­cession, a hallmark of Ferrarese civic life in the last de­cades of the Quattrocento.9 Duchess Eleonora, her eldest son, Alfonso (1476–1534), and his young wife, Anna Sforza (1476–1497), together with Ercole d’Este’s half ­brother Rainaldo and his court, headed this g­ rand pro­cession, which accompanied three Jews “most honorably” from the c­ astle of Ferrara to the cathedral of St. George, which functioned as the city’s liturgical heart.10 The three candidates for baptism ­were “Salamone the Jewish goldsmith with one son of his, aged about nine years old, as well as a young girl, who was also a Jew, of about seventeen years.”11 All five accounts mention the catechumens in this descending order of importance: first the man, then the boy, and fi­nally the adolescent girl. Given the ceremony’s highly dramatic nature, the grouping of t­ hese three individuals could not have been incidental and was aimed at enhancing the triumphal appearance of Jewish conversion to Catholicism.12 In contrast to Salomone, his nine-­year-­old son Graziadio,13 nicknamed Semaia, was young enough to be f­ ree from the stain of e­ arlier sins.14 In Re­nais­sance Italy, boys aged between eight and fourteen ­were regarded as innocents who could play leading roles in rituals of purification, as the groups of boys dressed in white who marched through the streets of Florence l­ ater in the 1490s, u ­ nder the guidance of Girolamo Savonarola (1452–1498), w ­ ere believed to do.15 In Ferrara, only nine years



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a­ fter Graziadio’s baptism, the Savonarolan devotee Ercole d’Este similarly arranged for pro­cessions of white-­clad boys, all younger than twelve, with the hope of placating divine ire.16 Whereas Salomone had been induced to convert u ­ nder duress, following his implication in a nefarious crime, his son Graziadio could be perceived as a symbol of puerile innocence. Furthermore, the boy, who had not been exposed to Jewish customs for very many years, could be brought up as a true Catholic. Premodern theologians expressed their doubts about ­whether adult Jews could completely shed their former Jewish selves and sever the ties that bound them to their erstwhile coreligionists. Instead, they placed their hopes in ­t hese neophytes’ young ­children, whose greater impressionability could result in a more complete conversion. Thus, in 1553, a boy aged only five or six, who was baptized together with his ­father while his ­mother resisted the pressure to convert, was required to deliver a public conversionary oration in Rome, which local Jews ­were forced to attend. The boy’s innocence was emphasized by the choice of his baptismal name, Giulio Innocentio, and in his oration, which l­ ater appeared in print, he exhorted not just the Jews in general but, specifically, his own obstinate ­mother to embrace Chris­tian­ity.17 The symbolic meaning ascribed to childhood, and the role reserved for young and supposedly innocent neophytes also served to justify the efforts to exert coercion in converting their parents.18 In light of the accentuated importance attributed to child converts, the jurist and humanist Ulrich Zasius (1461–1536) even went as far as arguing, in 1508, in f­avor of the seizing and baptism of Jewish ­children against their parents’ ­will, notwithstanding their ­legal status as minors.19 The inclusion of Graziadio alongside his talented yet ill-­famed ­father, then, represented the hopes that the conversion of Salomone’s ­family would genuinely augment the number of sincere Catholics. Yet even if Graziadio could grow up to be an exemplary Christian, the physical marker of circumcision that had been ­etched into his male flesh would serve as an enduring sign of his Jewish origins. The teenage girl who was baptized together with him and with his ­father was the only one of the three who could be wholly assimilated into Chris­tian­ity.20 The catechumen in question was the d ­ aughter of Elia and Stella Caio; Eleonora of Aragon referred to her as “this Jewess who had been in the h ­ ouse of

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Messer Daniele degli Obizzi,”21 and Francesco da Bagnacavallo observed that she was “a Jewess who is in love with a Christian.”22 The girl’s social origins ­were so obscure that neither her own Jewish name nor the names of her parents ­were deemed worthy of mention in any of the conversion ceremony accounts, although three of them did note her approximate age. Born into a h ­ umble f­ amily, by virtue of her gender she could nonetheless become a Catholic untainted by her Jewish past. Some Christian polemicists explic­itly targeted Jewish w ­ omen, arguing that they had the most to gain from converting b ­ ecause of their anomalous status within Judaism, as Jews who w ­ ere excluded from the 23 covenant of circumcision. Equating the circumcision of the flesh with baptism, which they understood as a “circumcision of the heart,” t­ hese writers stressed the ritual imparity inherent in Judaism and contrasted it with what they deemed to be the gender equality offered by the sacrament of baptism. Regarding circumcision as both the prefiguration and the functional equivalent of baptism, Christian thinkers assumed that its sacramental nature left an indelible mark. Inscribed on the body of male Jews, circumcision was widely believed to turn them into unmanly men who ­were unable to sexually satisfy their ­women. The figure of the weak and ugly Jewish man, however, was paired with that of the beautiful and exotic Jewish ­woman, which found its best-­known literary expression in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice (1596–1597). A l­ ittle over a c­ entury prior to the composition of this work, the baptism of a sixteen-­year-­old Jewish girl in Ferrara already fully conformed to the Christian sexual fantasy of “the beautiful Jewess,” whose conversion was prompted by a realization that she deserved to be betrothed to a real—­read Christian—­man.24 Hence, when the Ferrarese chronicler Bernardino Zambotti described the 1491 baptism ceremony, he merely observed: “On the 9th, a Sunday. On a large platform in the cathedral, at the entrance to the choir, two male Jews, a ­father and his son, and one beautiful Jewess, ­were baptized at the presence of the most illustrious duchess our lady Eleonora, her sons, and the entire court.”25 All the correspondence that reported the baptism of Salomone, his son, and the Caio girl also mentioned the beheading, on the following day, of Niccolò and Cesare of Verona. Whereas Magnanino simply noted the decapitation, Eleonora of Aragon, whose efforts to convince her con-



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sort to have mercy on Niccolò proved futile, was apparently dismayed by the occurrence. The duchess expressed her acquiescence to the duke’s decision, which she realized was motivated by his commitment to carry­ing out justice. Still, she made it a point to inform Ercole that she had been moved to compassion t­ oward the two b ­ rothers when witnessing their public execution and that she prayed to God to have mercy on their souls.26 As we saw ­earlier, in her missive to Isabella d’Este of September 15 concerning Angelo di Vitale, Eleonora implied that pardoning the converted criminal would amount to “gaining” his soul. In the dispatch that she addressed to Duke Ercole on October 11, however, the duchess clearly distinguished between a convicted felon’s body, whose fate lay in the hands of secular authorities, and that of his soul. As her ­later letter indicates, Eleonora was well aware that according to orthodox Catholicism, a converted sinner’s judicial killing amounted solely to the death of his body, not to the loss of his soul. Upholding temporal justice may have justified the decapitation of Cesare and Niccolò, but it certainly aroused feelings of compassion not only in Eleonora but also in other spectators. Thus, Bernardino de’ Prosperi asserted in his letter to Isabella: “But ­really, my Lady, if the case of Messer Zilfredo was atrocious and cruel, seeing t­ hese two youngsters beheaded was something that could make a stone weep.”27 Francesco da Bagnacavallo remarked that witnessing the “two young handsome ­brothers both ­dying” in such a harsh manner moved to tears many of the Ferrarese who came to watch their executions.28 Juxtaposing the public spectacles that occurred in the main sites of Ferrara’s civic and religious life on two consecutive days, Bagnacavallo went on to conclude: “We have lost just as much as we have gained, ­because yesterday we made three new Christians and ­today we have [made] two Christians dead, and we are expecting to have the third dead in a few days, so that the gain ­will be undone with the dispensation [allowing the third ­brother’s execution].”29 Bagnacavallo echoed the notion, implied in Eleonora’s letter to Isabella of September 10 and reiterated in the missive that the latter sent Francesco Gonzaga five days l­ ater, that sparing a converted criminal’s life amounted to “gaining” his soul, whereas his judicial killing constituted its “loss.”30 It is hard to know w ­ hether Bagnacavallo, like Eleonora of Aragon, was aware of the distinction between the loss of a convicted

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offender’s body and that of his soul, but his wording certainly insinuated a critique of Duke Ercole’s insistence on the capital punishment of a murderer who had repented his sins and expressed his intention to enter holy o ­ rders. Following his detailed and laudatory account of the accomplishment of acquiring three new Christian souls thanks to the conversionary policy of Ferrara’s ruling ­family, Bagnacavallo suggested that this “gain” was, in fact, nullified by the duke’s refusal to perform an act of Christian mercy by pardoning the repentant ­brother from Verona. The new Christian souls that ­were “made” on October 9 ­were that of one high-­profile (though somewhat disreputable) Jewish man; one innocent (yet circumcised) Jewish child; and one teenage Jewish girl (albeit of h ­ umble background). Although their grouping together had a clear propagandistic value, it is curious that an obscure d ­ aughter of a poor Jewish f­ amily was baptized together with the acclaimed artist Salomone da Sesso, rather than his own adolescent ­d aughter. The names that the neophytes received as part of assuming their new Catholic identities may give us a clue to this puzzle. The three communications addressed to Isabella d’Este noted that Salomone was baptized as Ercole and that his son received the baptismal name Alfonso. Salomone chose his own Christian name, as adult converts ­were allowed to do, and he consented to the name that was given to his son. Nonetheless, ­t hese specific names that honored both Duke Ercole and his heir, Don Alfonso, w ­ ere not only approved but actually suggested by Salomone’s ducal patron. Magnanino, Alfonso d’Este’s longtime confidant, informed Isabella that Duchess Eleonora had insisted that the goldsmith’s son be named Alfonso, as a sign of homage to her eldest son, who served as his godfather. 31 Baptized Jews commonly took the first names of their aristocratic godparents, as a means of forging a new Christian identity. 32 In Ferrara, Jews regularly assumed the names of their ducal patrons upon baptism.33 By so d ­ oing, they not only associated themselves with the Catholic piety of their eminent benefactors but also enhanced the ties of spiritual kinship and material dependence with them.34 Thus, when Salomone’s wife was baptized at an unknown date l­ ater in 1491, she was christened Eleonora, in honor of her husband’s influential patron. 35 It is noteworthy that the name Eleonora was not given to the Caios’ ­daughter, even though the girl was baptized along with Salomone / Ercole



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and Graziadio / Alfonso. Duchess Eleonora, who had e­arlier ignored Elia and Stella’s pleas regarding their ­daughter, strongly supported the girl’s conversion. Although she took it upon herself to provide the new set of clothes that the “beautiful Jewess” wore during her baptism ceremony, the girl did not receive Eleonora’s name. 36 Instead, she was christened Anna Antonia—­a name that honored both Anna Sforza, Alfonso d’Este bride, and Daniele degli Obizzi’s spouse, Antonia, with whom she had lodged ­a fter fleeing her parents’ home. 37 The name Eleonora was in turn reserved for Salomone’s wife, whose reception of the name of Ferrara’s duchess made pos­si­ble the remaking of the ducal ­family in the newly assumed Christian identities of the goldsmith’s ­house­hold. The canons of the seventh-­century Toledan Councils in Visigothic Spain decreed that minor Jewish c­ hildren must follow a parent upon the latter’s baptism, and this pre­ce­dent was still binding in the fifteenth ­century. 38 Since the consent of just one parent was required for the baptism of ­children ­u nder the age of twelve, and Salomone’s wife was the ­mother of three ­children who in 1491 ­were younger than twelve, she would have been separated from them had she refused to become a Christian. Like other Jewish ­women in similar circumstances, her only way of retaining custody of ­t hese three ­children was to follow her husband to the baptismal font.39 Her nine-­year-­old son, Graziadio, was baptized together with his f­ ather, but her younger c­ hildren, Joseph (born between 1485 and 1489) and a girl (born between 1484 and 1491) whose original name remains unknown, w ­ ere most likely baptized in the same ceremony in which she received the sacrament. T ­ hese two minors assumed the Christian names of members of Ferrara’s ruling f­ amily, as did their older ­brother—­thereby further cementing Salomone’s ties to his ducal patrons. Joseph was named a­ fter the duke’s younger son, Ferrante, also known as Ferdinando (the Spanish form of this name), and the girl was christened Anna.40 Like Anna Antonia Caio, the baptismal name of Salomone’s second d ­ aughter honored the bride of Ferrara’s ducal heir, although in the latter case it did not pay homage to additional benefactors.41 The conversion of Salomone’s wife and his two young ­children—­a girl of no more than seven and a boy younger than six—­could hardly be construed as an au­then­tic embrace of Chris­tian­ity. Their presence would have therefore added l­ ittle symbolic value to the conversion ceremony of the goldsmith and his eldest son. As this baptismal cele­bration was

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aimed at showcasing the success of the ducal f­ amily’s policy regarding Jewish conversion, e­ very detail mattered. Hence, instead of including several members of the goldsmith’s ­family, who would have each had to be exorcized and baptized separately, rendering the ceremony lengthy and tedious, only three Jews ­were to be baptized in Ferrara’s cathedral on October 9. Associated with the Trinity, the major tenet of Chris­tian­ity that the Jews rejected, the number three obviously held a greater spiritual significance than the numbers five (that would have included Salomone, his nine-­year-­old son, his wife, and his two youn­gest ­children) or six (including all of ­these and Salomone’s firstborn ­daughter). The inclusion of three and only three Jews also recurred in l­ ater, highly publicized baptismal ceremonies that w ­ ere orchestrated as a display of Catholicism’s triumph as the true religion.42 But why was the Caio girl added to the ceremony as a third candidate for baptism instead of Salomone’s firstborn ­d aughter who, like the ­d aughter of Stella and Elia, was no longer considered a minor? Salomone’s eldest child, a girl whose original, Jewish name does not surface in the historical rec­ord, was born in 1479.43 By the time her f­ ather converted to Chris­tian­ity twelve years ­later, her fate could no longer be automatically determined by his decision, and she had to express her consent to baptism. The inclusion of a Jewess whose age was considered to be that of girls’ transition from childhood to adulthood would have perfectly complemented the duo of her well-­known ­father and her b ­ rother 44 Graziadio. Interestingly, when the girl in question did agree to be baptized, she was not the one named in honor of Anna Sforza, and her younger sibling received the name honoring the consort of Ferrara’s ducal heir. Nor did Salomone’s firstborn child receive the Christian name of any other member of Ferrara’s ruling f­ amily. She was christened as Caterina, one of the most common baptismal names of female neophytes in fifteenth-­ century Italy and one that had already been given to two e­ arlier known converts in Ferrara.45 The divergence from the naming pattern that linked every­one ­else in her ­family—­her parents, Ercole and Eleonora, and her siblings, Alfonso, Ferrante, and Anna—to the ducal ­family suggests that Caterina, who in 1501 would enter a monastic h ­ ouse and become a professed religious w ­ oman, did not immediately follow in her ­father’s footsteps. Had she agreed to convert together with her f­ ather and her ­brother Graziadio, or alongside her m ­ other and younger b ­ rother and



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s­ ister, she would have been named in honor of Anna Sforza—or, perhaps, in honor of Isabella or Beatrice d’Este, the d ­ aughters of Ercole d’Este and 46 Eleonora of Aragon. That the name Anna was given first to the Caios’ girl, and then to Salomone / Ercole’s younger ­d aughter, hints that his firstborn child may have initially resisted the pressure to convert. The difference between her baptismal name and t­hose assumed by every­one ­else in her ­family suggests that her baptism was not held together with that of her m ­ other and younger siblings but at a ­later date, ­a fter she saw that a continued refusal would make her the only Jew in her f­ amily. At the time Salomone’s baptismal ceremony was ­under way, then, his eldest d ­ aughter may have still resisted the pressure to convert; yet she could be easily replaced by another Jewish teenager, the ­daughter of Stella and Elia. A mirror image of the goldsmith’s eldest child, who tarried in accepting baptism even in face of her f­ ather’s apostasy, the “beautiful Jewess” who was in love with a Christian had rebelled against her Jewish parents, who strove to prevent her from becoming a Catholic. News of her dramatic escape from home and of the ensuing clash between her parents and her Christian benefactors spread like wildfire in the weeks prior to the solemn baptismal cele­bration. This narrative fit perfectly the pious Christian model of a young w ­ oman whose ardent faith led her to defy her parents in the quest for attaining religious perfection.47 The Jewish man, the Jewish boy, and the Jewish girl, each of them adding an impor­tant symbolic value to the per­for­mance of conversion, ­were accompanied by their aristocratic entourage from the ducal c­ astle, a symbol of the House of Este’s po­liti­cal power, to the cathedral of St. George, where the Este rulers traditionally displayed their status as pious Christian sovereigns.48 They arrived “at the door of the church, to which in this moment the bishop arrived, dressed in the pontifical vestments.” 49 A de­cade ­earlier Giacomo, the convicted Jewish thief who agreed to be baptized in return for a ducal ­pardon, received the sacrament in Ferrara’s cathedral from the hands of the bishop’s vicar. 50 But the renowned goldsmith Salomone and his son, like other famous Jews in premodern Italy, 51 ­were not to be baptized by a vicar but by the bishop himself. This figure was Bartolomeo della Rovere (bishop of Ferrara in 1474–1494), nephew of Pope Sixtus IV (r. 1471–1484) and ­brother of the ­f uture pope Julius II (r. 1503–1513). 52 At the door of Ferrara’s cathedral, the threshold separating the realm of the devil from that of God, the bishop performed the rite of exorcism

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that constituted the first part of the sacrament of baptism. 53 Bartolomeo della Rovere exorcized the three Jews, “one at a time, with beautiful ceremonies” at the cathedral’s main portal, which is a masterpiece of Romanesque sculpture. 54 Attributed to an artist known only by his first name, Niccolò, who was active in northern Italy during the first half of the twelfth c­ entury, the jambs on e­ ither side of the main portal are carved with statues of the Annunciation and of the four Old Testament prophets who, according to the Christian tradition, foretold the coming of Christ. ­These Hebrew prophets—­Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Daniel—­d irectly address their viewers with inscribed scrolls that they hold in their hands. 55 Hence, Isaiah’s scroll shows the passage from Isaiah 7:14, “Ecce virgo concipiet et pariet filium et vocabitur [nomen eius Emmanuel]” (Behold, a virgin s­ hall conceive and bear a son and ­shall call [his name Emmanuel]), which was interpreted since early Chris­tian­ity as prophesying Christ’s virgin birth. 56 In Christian exegesis, passages from the books of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Daniel ­were interpreted as foreshadowing the Incarnation, virgin birth, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus. Christian polemicists often resorted to such interpretations of Old Testament prophecies in their attempts to convince Jews of the truth of Chris­tian­ity, arguing that it had already been affirmed by the biblical prophets. The figures of the prophets took on a new prominence in the religious imagery of the twelfth c­ entury, and the visual innovation of incorporating them into the facades of Romanesque churches, such as Ferrara’s cathedral, went hand in hand with the reinvigorated recourse to the Christological interpretation of their prophecies in anti-­Jewish polemics. 57 In 1491, more than three centuries ­a fter the completion of the Ferrarese cathedral’s portal jambs, the figures of the prophets w ­ ere still vis­i­ble, and their inscribed scrolls still legible. Although the inscriptions’ precise meaning may have been lost on viewers who ­were not versed in Latin, the statues’ proximity to the Virgin Annunciate would have helped the multitudes that flocked to the cathedral to watch the baptism of three Jews to identify the prophets’ figures as the Old Testament harbingers of Christ. 58 By undergoing the first part of the rite of passage that turned them into Christians at the portal that was decorated with the figures of the Hebrew prophets, Salomone, Graziadio, and the Caio girl epitomized the triumph of Christian exegesis of the Old Testament over the Jews’ literal

Fig. 8. ​The prophet Isaiah, by Master Niccolò. First half of the twelfth c­ entury. Main portal of Ferrara’s cathedral. Photo by Guido Dall’Olio. Reproduced with permission. Isaiah holds a scroll inscribed with the prophecy foretelling Christ’s virgin birth (Isaiah 7:14), which Salomone / Ercole mentioned in the oration that he delivered in the cathedral ­a fter his baptism.

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interpretation of scriptures. But that was not all. A ­ fter Salomone’s baptism inside the cathedral, he delivered an oration that drew on the Christological interpretation of the prophecies of ­those very biblical figures whose sculptures adorned the portal—­specifically referring to Christ’s virgin birth.59 Salomone’s oration, undoubtedly prepared with the assistance of Fra Mariano da Genazzano or another learned ecclesiastic, thus stressed the connection between the conversion of the goldsmith and his two fellow Jews to the Jewish prophets of biblical times. This helped to create the impression that upon their exorcism at the cathedral’s threshold Salomone, his son, and the young Caio girl shed the Jewish blindness and joined the prophets—­those biblical Jews who had grasped the veracity of Chris­t ian­ity even prior to the birth of Jesus. Following the three exorcisms, the catechumens entered the church, led by the bishop, and each one of them held the fringed hem of his episcopal stole. In the much more common baptism of infants, the stole was placed on the child’s shoulder before the priest who delivered the sacrament of baptism came into the church, where he performed another exorcism and anointed her or him with the oil of catechumens. In the baptism of adult non-­Christians, however, the catechumens would hold on to the hem of the bishop’s stole while he led them into the church ­after their initial exorcism.60 In this manner, the three Jews reached “the circle that is in the cathedral, where an eminent platform had been built” and climbed on it, so that their baptism would be vis­i­ble to “all of Ferrara,” who came to witness the rite.61 The three w ­ ere then baptized “by the bishop, in front of the crucifix.” 62 Whereas Eleonora of Aragon presented Salomone at the baptismal font and his son was presented by the ducal heir Don Alfonso, the ­daughter of Stella and Elia Caio, a youth who had severed her ties with her parents to become a Christian, was presented by both a godfather, Rainaldo d’Este, and a godmother, Anna Sforza.63 The presence of a male as well as a female godparent symbolized the new ties of spiritual kinship that Anna Antonia now had with her Christian benefactors, replacing the relations she had had with her Jewish parents, whom she had rejected. 64 Although all three accounts of the baptismal ceremony addressed to Isabella d’Este w ­ ere crammed full of detail, the reports of Anna Antonia’s baptism given by Bagnacavallo and Prosperi ­were not as precise as that offered by Magnanino. Bagnacavallo, a member of Anna Sforza’s



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­ ouse­hold, deemed only his patron’s role as godmother worthy of menh tion, noting that the Jewess was presented by “the most illustrious lady Anna, and she has the name Anna.” 65 Prosperi, for his part, observed tersely that “the girl was presented by Messer Rainaldo and was named Anna.” 66 Magnanino was the only one to refer to both the godfather and the godmother of this baptized Jewess, affirming that the girl was presented “by the most illustrious Madonna Anna, and by the most illustrious Messer Rainaldo, and was named Anna Antonia.” 67 Magnanino further added that whereas Salomone and his son ­were baptized wearing “only a shirt,” the young ­woman, “for greater decency, kept on her clothes, which Madama [Eleonora] had had made for her.” ­A fter their baptism, the goldsmith and his son also wore the new clothes that the duchess gave them. What is more, according to Magnanino, Eleonora of Aragon made sure that Salomone received a generous provision, “­because of his virtue [virtù].” 68 The Latin term virtus originally connoted moral goodness, but in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the Italian concept of virtù could refer e­ ither to virtuous be­hav­ior or to artistic or literary excellence.69 Thus, when the Ferrarese ambassador to Milan wished to recommend a certain painter to Ercole d’Este, he argued that the duke would enjoy his paintings if he “delight[s] in virtuous men.”70 Salomone da Sesso was definitely not famous for his virtuous conduct, but he was deeply admired for his virtuosity in goldsmithery by both Duchess Eleonora and her d ­ aughter, the letter’s addressee.71 Indeed, in a ­later correspondence from 1505, Isabella d’Este expressly referred to the goldsmith’s virtù when praising the pieces of jewelry that he made for her.72 The convert’s artistic virtue was clearly also what Magnanino had in mind when he reported Duchess Eleonora’s bounty ­toward him in his letter to Isabella of October 10, 1491. Magnanino’s emphasis on the lavish baptismal gifts that Eleonora bestowed upon Salomone and his f­ amily, on the new set of clothes that she gave Anna Antonia, and on her request that Graziadio receive her eldest son’s name indicates that as far as this close confidant of Alfonso d’Este was concerned, the duchess had masterminded the ­triple conversion. In her own letter of October 11 to Ercole d’Este, though, Eleonora was laconic concerning the baptismal ceremony that she had staged so carefully. She merely noted: “On Sunday I attended the baptism of Salomone and of his son, and of this Jewess who had been in the ­house of

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Messer Daniel di Obici [Daniele degli Obizzi], which was done very solemnly in the cathedral.”73 ­Eager to assure her consort that her court goldsmith succeeded in the task of publicizing his supposedly au­then­tic conversio, Eleonora then informed the duke: ­A fter his baptism, Salomone mounted the pulpit [and] said very opportunely and eloquently the reasons that led him to become a Christian, mainly due to having realized that ours is the true faith, and he put forward many texts in Hebrew to prove [the veracity of ] the Trinity, the advent of Christ and His virgin birth, His passion, and the baptism. And by whoever has intelligence and perception he was much praised, as Your Excellency has doubtlessly heard in other ways.74

The specific religious tenets defended by Salomone / Ercole in his baptismal oration ­were not only rejected by Jewish disputants throughout the last centuries of the ­Middle Ages but also ­were confuted by the Jewish polemicist Abraham Farissol, who participated between 1487 and 1490 in a series of debates with Christian theologians held at the Ferrarese court, in which Eleonora of Aragon was pre­sent. In his Hebrew tract Magen Avraham (The Shield of Abraham), a handbook of arguments in defense of Judaism that drew its inspiration from the recent debates (though it was only completed around 1500), Farissol explained the Christian belief in the Incarnation, the Trinity, and the salvific nature of baptism to his Jewish readers, and then confuted ­these key tenets of Catholicism.75 The erudite Jew also countered the belief in the Passion of Christ, affirming that since God cannot materialize and be affected by accidents, the divinity is by definition not subject to death. Hence, if Jesus had indeed been God, he could not have been crucified to atone for ­humans who had sinned out of their own ­f ree ­w ill.76 Salomone’s confirmation of the very tenets rejected by Farissol in the disputations that ­were held at the Este court only a few years ­earlier impressed his audience—or at least this is what Eleonora of Aragon and Girolamo Magnanino wanted the addressees of their letters to believe. According to Magnanino, “Salamone, or rather Ercole,” mounted a pulpit that had been built especially for this purpose. The goldsmith then delivered his oration and, “with the Bible in hand he proved, and said, with the authority of the prophets in Hebrew, and then in our



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language, how the Jews should no longer await the Messiah, with many beautiful and worthy ­t hings.”77 Jews w ­ ere traditionally associated with the language of their sacred scriptures, in which they all prayed. In the early modern era, Hebrew therefore served as an impor­tant marker of collective Jewish identity. The humanists of Re­nais­sance Italy, however, reclaimed the study of Hebrew, presenting it as a key to grasping the full meaning of sacred Christian texts. In the late Quattrocento, Hebrew was admired as the language of God’s original words; in this manner, baptized Jews’ knowledge of the sacred language enabled them to read—­a nd in Salomone’s case to read out loud—­passages from the Christian scriptures in their original language, revealing the hidden truths of Catholicism. The ability of male neophytes to read the Hebrew alphabet was regarded as an impor­t ant asset b ­ ecause it could turn them into mediators in the ser­v ice of facilitating the conversion of additional Jews, and also ­because it created a link between con­temporary Catholics and the very font of Chris­t ian­ity itself.78 Magnanino added that, ­after Salomone’s explication of key Christological passages from the Old Testament, he also recounted “the way in which he had been converted to our doctrine, which it would take long to relate.” Seeking to avoid boring the marchioness, Magnanino did not repeat the contents of Salomone’s entire oration. He noted only that he de­cided to mention it in his letter b ­ ecause it attested to the growth of the Catholic faith, and Isabella would surely derive plea­sure from this kind of information.79 Although Magnanino’s missive described the baptism ceremony in greater detail than that provided in the letters of Isabella d’Este’s two other correspondents, he evidently deemed the contents of the conversionary oration less impor­tant than the description of the rites that preceded it. Duchess Eleonora similarly refrained from reporting the last part of the speech, in which the baptized Jew alluded to the questionable circumstances that had paved the way for his conversion. That Eleonora of Aragon’s letter was ­silent on the ­matter suggests that the goldsmith added this part to the public address that Fra Mariano or another ecclesiastic had helped him prepare, perhaps even in defiance of specific instructions he had been given. A l­ater document attesting to Salomone / Ercole’s unauthorized slandering of the Mantuan Jews in  1495—­presumably ­because of the role they had played in his

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incrimination—­f urther substantiates the idea that in 1491 he himself thought to mention the turn of events that had led to his conversion. 80 Francesco da Bagnacavallo appears to have listened attentively to the convert’s public address, and he evidently did not share Duchess Eleonora’s reservations about conveying its full contents in his dispatch. Bagnacavallo noted the biblical sources that Salomone / Ercole cited, which included the books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Daniel—­the biblical prophets whose figures adorned the jambs of the cathedral’s main portal. 81 He recounted: Then Ercole, that new Christian, mounted a pulpit that had been built t­ here, and he preached t­ here with the book of the Bible in Hebrew in his hand, and declared what reason induced him to become a Christian. He proclaimed many texts from Isaiah, from Jerome, from Daniel, and from quite a few other prophets, as well as from St. John the Evangelist, affirming and declaring the error of the Jews in awaiting the Messiah, by showing that they cannot deny that which the prophets say, [namely,] that the true Messiah, who was the blessed Jesus Christ, has come. 82

Bagnacavallo was careful to refer to the neophyte as Ercole, rather than Salomone, when relating the contents of the speech delivered ­a fter the baptismal rite that was supposed to have turned him into a Christian. Nonetheless, the last part of the report made it clear that “Ercole, that new Christian,” could hardly forget his Jewish past. Indeed, Bagnacavallo ended his account by notifying Isabella: “Afterward he recounted in his defense what had been the cause of his having been imprisoned by [i.e., ­because of] the Jews, saying that he was hated by the Jews of Mantua ­because of that miracle of our glorious Lady in that boy [quello puto] who had died e­ arlier, as Your Ladyship is well informed.”83 Alluding to the circumstances that had brought about his apostasy, the goldsmith alerted his audience to his problematic past. Many of the high-­ranking Ferrarese who came to witness the conversion ceremony knew that Salomone had only agreed to be baptized when facing a grave punishment following a judicial trial, but they w ­ ere prob­ably unaware of the Mantuan prelude to his incrimination. The goldsmith wished to assure them that the Jews of Mantua had falsely implicated him in



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crime(s) that he had, in fact, not committed—­w ithout disclosing the deeds of which he had been held culpable, and that w ­ ere deemed so detestable as to make his own coreligionists turn against him. Still, much of the audience apparently had no idea what a dead child, or a miracle of the Madonna, had to do with Salomone’s incarceration. Bagnacavallo was evidently not sure what to make of the goldsmith’s statement, but since it pertained to Mantuan events, he assumed that Marchioness Isabella would be able to figure it out on her own. Unaware of the discovery of a girl’s corpse e­ arlier that year, Bagnacavallo presumed that the miracle Salomone was referring to had to do with a dead boy (puto), or he may have simply misheard the neophyte’s pronunciation of the word puta (girl). Conversely, Bernardino de’ Prosperi, Isabella d’Este’s most trusted correspondent in Ferrara, was prob­ ably cognizant of her role in initiating an investigation of the baby girl’s murder in Mantua a few months ­earlier. 84 Hence, Prosperi referred to a dead girl, informing Isabella that ­a fter his solemn baptism “Salamone mounted the pulpit, and recounted the cause for which he had been led to be baptized, which was for realizing truly that his faith was erroneous, and ­here he added many prophecies of which the Jews distort, and even hide, the meaning. Having established this, at the end he then recounted the miracle that occurred in Mantua, of that Jewish girl [quella puta hebraica], and all of Ferrara was pre­sent at this feat.”85 According to all reports, at his baptismal oration the goldsmith claimed to have been genuinely convinced of the veracity of the Christian faith. Yet, examined together the letters of Prosperi and Bagnacavallo also point to a miracle pertaining to a dead child that occurred in Mantua, and that set in motion the turn of events that eventually led to Salomone’s baptism. In his public address, Salomone attributed his incrimination by the Jews of Mantua to a miracle performed by the Virgin Mary, a saintly figure who featured in premodern narratives of Jewish conversion to Chris­tian­ity, as well as in t­ hose centering on the murder of young c­ hildren by the perfidious Jews. His mention of the Mantuan Jews’ antipathy t­ oward him, however, also served as a reminder of his dubious past as a Jew.86 As we w ­ ill see in the following chapters, the goldsmith’s formal adoption of a new faith, and his assumption of a Catholic identity ­under the name of Ercole in 1491, signaled only the beginning of his long and tortuous journey ­toward desired assimilation into Christian society.

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III A ­Family of Converts

CHAPTER TEN

A Haunting Past

N

a­ fter the cele­brations of October 9, 1491, the goldsmith’s wife was christened Eleonora. His son Joseph and his youn­gest ­daughter ­were baptized as Ferrante and Anna, and when his firstborn child agreed to convert, she received the baptismal name Caterina. Documentation attests to the monachization of Caterina in 1501 and to Anna’s marriage in 1506, and reveals that Alfonso, too, got married and fathered six ­children. The artistic ­careers of Alfonso and his ­brother Ferrante, who both became goldsmiths, are also well documented. In contrast, we know virtually nothing—­not even the names—­about the three youn­gest ­d aughters of Eleonora and Salomone / Ercole, who ­were evidently born ­after their parents’ conversion and who in 1521 ­were designated as nubile in a supplication that their ­mother sent Isabella d’Este.1 ­A fter their conversion to Chris­t ian­ity, Salomone / Ercole and his ­family remained in Ferrara, where Eleonora of Aragon continued to employ her favorite goldsmith. Shortly a­ fter his baptism, “Master Ercole da Sesso the goldsmith” completed a gilded book cover for the duchess, and he also gilded “a r­ ose made of silver thread” for her.2 It is in the registers recording the gold that he received for the book cover on November 25, OT LONG

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1491, that he was first designated a master goldsmith.3 Although his extraordinary skills had been both noted and praised already prior to his conversion, in ducal registers and in the correspondence of members of the Este and Gonzaga houses he had previously been referred to merely as “Salamone the Jewish goldsmith,” and even in his own letter he had identified himself as “Salamone, goldsmith of the most illustrious lady, the Duchess of Ferrara.” 4 Like other Jewish goldsmiths in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Salomone was allowed to practice his craft as a registered matriculant but not as a master goldsmith. 5 It was only a­ fter he converted to Chris­tian­ity that he could assume the honorific appellation “Master,” like Giacomino of Cremona and the other goldsmiths who w ­ ere working for members of the Ferrarese court. 6 In the following months, Master Ercole accepted additional commissions from Eleonora of Aragon. On April 2, 1492, he received a payment of sixty lire marchesane.7 On June 20, he got an advance payment with which he was to buy a sack of charcoal, for making new pieces of jewelry for the duchess. 8 Obtaining charcoal was essential for operating any smith’s workshop and was subject to strict regulation in Ferrara.9 The presence of an aristocratic patron such as Eleonora as well as the high costs associated with the raw materials that w ­ ere needed for his craft ­were power­f ul incentives for Salomone / Ercole to remain in Ferrara.10 Thus, like other converts from Judaism, the goldsmith stayed put. Nor did he completely sever his ties with his erstwhile coreligionists. For many years a­ fter his baptism, the neophyte continued to associate with Jewish moneylenders in Ferrara.11 He relied on them for acquiring the precious stones and metals required for his work, and especially for receiving cash loans in pressing times.12 Not long ­a fter his conversion, financial straits prompted Master Ercole to pawn some of his valuables at the Banco dei Sabbioni, one of the oldest establishments of Jewish moneylending in Ferrara, whose activity is documented for more than five hundred years. On April 2, 1493, the ducal cancelliere Andrea Libanori ordered the payment of sixty lire marchesane for unspecified works that Ercole had made for the duchess.13 The payment was to be made in Master Ercole’s name to “Abram and his partners, moneylenders in the [Bank of] Via Sabbioni,” thereby enabling the convert to retrieve the valuables he had pawned t­ here.14



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The Jewish moneylender mentioned in Libanori’s payment order was Abram, the son of Datilo of Cologna (in the Veneto), who ran the Banco dei Sabbioni in ­t hose years and in this capacity had frequent contacts with Eleonora of Aragon.15 Like the two other major Jewish banks in Ferrara, the Banco della Ripa (or Riva) and the Banco dei Carri, the Banco dei Sabbioni was located in the center of the city’s commercial area. With Duke Ercole d’Este’s permission, in 1481 a synagogue and a ritual bath (mikveh) ­were established in the same building in which the Banco dei Sabbioni operated, and its surrounding area consequently attracted a notable Jewish population.16 When pawning his belongings at the Banco dei Sabbioni and in coming to reclaim them upon Duchess Eleonora’s payment of the sum that he owed this bank for his loan, then, the baptized Jew would have passed by Ferrara’s main site of Jewish worship and likely mixed with his former coreligionists. Enthusiastic supporters of Jews’ conversion depicted their spiritual rebirth upon baptism, which turned them into new persons. Yet the practical demands of daily life such as the need to redeem pledged objects in the midst of Ferrara’s Jewish neighborhood made it impossible for new Christians like Salomone / Ercole to jettison their life as Jews or to cut off ties to Jewish friends and relations. One can only imagine the impact of such incessant reminders of Jewish ritual on a Jew who had been pushed to consent to baptism together with his wife and ­children, and may have continued to cherish memories from his childhood and adolescence years as a Jewish boy in Florence and Bologna, and from the few years that he had spent as a Jew in Ferrara. Salomone / Ercole’s dealings with Ferrarese Jews, however, ­were not ­limited to disinterested business transactions, as a letter of December 13, 1493, which another Jew named Abramo (or Abram) addressed to Francesco Gonzaga indicates. This Jew could most likely be identified as Abramo Tusolo (dubbed “Tusebec”) di Mandolino, also known as “the card player,” who operated the Banco dei Carri in Ferrara.17 In official documents of the Este court, Tusolo was regularly referred to merely as Abramo, or as “Abramo the Jew.”18 When the Ferrarese chronicler Zambotti noted his card games with Duke Ercole d’Este, he too did not deem it necessary to designate him as anything other than “the Jew Abramo.”19 On October 23, 1496, Francesco Gonzaga asked Duke Ercole to allow “Abramo the Jew” to come to Mantua so that he could play

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games of chance with the marquis, and on that very day he addressed a letter to “Abramo Tusolo the Jew,” informing him of this wish. 20 Tusolo also cooperated in financial ventures with the marquis. In return for the loans that Francesco occasionally received from him, he offered Abramo protection. Hence, in 1495 the marquis sent Tusolo a letter reminding him of the gratitude he was due thanks to his having secured Abramo’s liberation from prison. Pointing specifically to times when he had saved the Jew from life-­threatening situations, the marquis demanded that Abramo lend him a large sum without charging any interest or keeping a pawned object to secure its return. 21 Abramo himself referred to the assistance that he had received from Francesco Gonzaga during a past incarceration in his e­ arlier letter to the marquis of December 1493. Assuring Francesco that he would obtain a certain amount of cash for him from one of the men who ­were at his ser­ vice in Ferrara, Abramo alluded to an injury that he had suffered at the hands of the convert Ercole and his associates, whose names he refrained from mentioning, and thanked the marquis for having supported him in the affair. The missive’s full text reads as follows: I inform Your Lordship how I have realized who, together with Salamone da Sesso, who is now called Ercole, was responsible for my imprisonment. They confessed to the seneschal Antonio Costabili and to the trea­surer Bonaventura di Mosto that they had been the ones, together with the aforementioned Salamone, who had done such a ­thing, and the aforementioned Salamone also confessed to t­ hese seneschal and trea­surer that he had done it, and in addition he confesses that they ­were in Venice, and they did the worst that they could [do]. And I am letting it be known that I want to make peace [with them], as they are asking me to do, and I am ­doing this in order to understand the situation well, although I ­w ill never do it [make peace with them], putting my hope in Your Lordship, who pulled me out of such trou­ble, that You ­will make such a demonstration, that ­will show how much dis­plea­sure it has caused You. My lord, I cannot write every­thing to You ­because it ­w ill take me too long, but when I speak to Your Lordship in person I ­will clarify ­things to You,



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regarding the g­ reat aggression that was done to me, and that would make even the stones have compassion. This coming Monday I hope to receive this money from this servant of mine, of which Your Lordship knows, and once I have it I w ­ ill immediately mount a h ­ orse and come to find You, to whom I continuously commend myself, as a slave. 22

Abramo’s letter is nothing if not enigmatic. Nonetheless, it leaves impor­tant clues about the goldsmith. First, although Abramo begins his message by designating him as “Salamone da Sesso, who is now called Ercole,” he soon identifies him solely as Salomone. Revealingly, fourteen years l­ ater Abramo “the card player” would be banished from Ferrara, following his assault on a Christian ­woman, who helped a Jewess flee from her ­family in order to be baptized and welcomed her to her own home.23 The renowned gambler, who in 1507 was willing to risk his standing in Ferrara to oppose Jewish conversion to Chris­t ian­ity, clearly regarded Master Ercole as the very man who had scandalized Mantua’s Jews prior to his baptism. Abramo saw the goldsmith as a sinful and depraved Jew, but a Jew nonetheless. The men who, according to Abramo, interrogated Salomone and his accomplices w ­ ere Bonaventura de’ Mosto (or Mosti, fl. 1459–1502), who served as head of the ducal trea­sury from 1490 u ­ ntil 1502,24 and Antonio Costabili (d. 1527), who filled the office of siniscalco generale at least since 1491.25 Both De’ Mosto and Costabili numbered among Duke Ercole’s closest confidants. The former, a member of a Modenese f­ amily whose sons dominated the administration of the Este court at the turn of the ­century, was one of Ercole’s favorite courtiers, and the latter was the son of an influential Ferrarese ­family who in 1496 would be appointed as Ercole’s ambassador in Milan.26 As Ercole d’Este’s siniscalco generale, Costabili was responsible for supervising the daily operation of the duke’s ­house­hold, 27 whereas De’ Mosto was in charge of collecting income throughout the duchy, including the collection of debts to the Camera Ducale.28 That they ­were the ones who investigated Salomone / Ercole and his associates about Abramo’s past incrimination indicates that the latter’s alleged felony had been fiscal in nature. Having admitted their culpability in having brought about the Jewish man’s imprisonment, the goldsmith and his

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accomplices asserted their wish to make peace with him, yet Abramo affirmed that he was not interested in formally reconciling with them. Abramo’s missive made it clear that Francesco Gonzaga had been involved in securing his past release from prison, and that Abramo now expected the marquis to manifest his anger at the men who had been responsible for his unjust incarceration.29 Abramo’s dispatch leaves us in the dark not only regarding the precise reasons for his arrest but also about the time in which it had occurred and the date of Salomone / Ercole’s subsequent questioning. Tellingly, the writer is also s­ ilent about the identity of the men who ­were interrogated together with the goldsmith, although he evidently perceived them to be no less guilty in causing him harm than Salomone / Ercole was. Abramo referred to the goldsmith’s associates in the plural, so ­t here must have been at least two of them. Why he chose to single out Salomone / Ercole among all the guilty men also remains a mystery. Nonetheless, the missive’s wording does imply that the goldsmith was in touch with ­these other men, and that in December 1493 all of them conveyed their collective wish to make peace with Abramo. Abramo further mentions the goldsmith’s past visit to Venice, the place in which he and the other supposedly guilty men did “the worst that they could [do].” This exclamation may suggest that Salomone / Ercole’s unidentified associates accompanied him on a business trip to the city of the lagoon, which had dominated the trade in precious stones and other luxury commodities since the last centuries of the ­Middle Ages. 30 What­ever it was that the goldsmith and his accomplices did in Venice is, once again, not spelled out in the letter, although it appears to have been related to Abramo’s own implication in a crime, which had led to his arrest. In the allusion that Salomone / Ercole made in his baptismal oration to his fall from grace, he pointed an accusatory fin­ger at the Mantuan Jews. Francesco Gonzaga’s missives from 1491 similarly underscored the animosity of members of the Jewish community in Mantua t­ oward the acclaimed artist. Abramo’s letter of 1493, however, indicates that ­after his apostasy from Judaism the goldsmith’s adversaries also included at least one Ferrarese Jew—­a lbeit one enjoying particularly close ties with Francesco Gonzaga, who was certainly ill disposed ­toward Salomone / Ercole.



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Abramo “the card player,” like Salomone / Ercole, was famous for a singular talent—in his case, deftness in games of chance, which led the Este and Gonzaga rulers to grant him vari­ous ­favors. Although he was better off financially than the goldsmith, Abramo too frequently turned to his fellow Jews for large sums of money.31 Moreover, his long c­ areer as a card player occasionally got him involved in violent brawls with other gamblers who, when unable to pay their debts to him, attempted to assault him. In 1483, Tusolo filed a lawsuit against a servant of Sigismondo d’Este (1433–1507), who had threatened to kill him. 32 Abramo presented himself in his message to Francesco Gonzaga as the innocent victim of Salomone / Ercole and his accomplices, but it is worth noting that his other extant letters similarly portrayed other individuals as villains who had intentionally harmed o ­ thers. Indeed, like his adversary, “the card player” was involved in ­bitter disputes with several Jews. In 1494, Abramo penned another missive, describing the assault that he suffered at the hands of another Jew, who also killed his nephew and wounded a member of Abramo’s h ­ ouse­hold, following a dispute concerning an unpaid debt of 200 ducats. 33 While “the card played” included Salomone / Ercole among the men who had harmed him and with whom he would never reconcile, Abramo, whose dicey lifestyle got him in trou­ble with Jews and non-­Jews alike, actually appears to have had much in common with the virtuoso goldsmith. Depending on the protection and employment of the princely rulers of Mantua and Ferrara, who admired their rare skills, both Jews aroused envy among Christians and Jews, making their standing precarious. Indeed, the mere dating of Abramo’s cryptic dispatch discloses the delicacy of the goldsmith’s social standing. That it was drafted on December 13, 1493, merely a month a­ fter Eleonora of Aragon’s demise, was certainly no coincidence. The Duchess of Ferrara died of pneumococcus on October  11, 1493, 34 two years a­ fter she had staged the cele­bration of Salomone’s baptism. When a ducal patron passed away, his or her employees ­were at risk of dismissal. 35 Eleonora’s death placed in question the benefits that Salomone / Ercole had enjoyed at court and stripped him of the protection of an influential patron. 36 Abramo’s recourse to Francesco Gonzaga, requesting that the marquis make “a demonstration, that ­will show how much dis­plea­sure” the comportment of Salomone / Ercole and his

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accomplices caused him, so shortly ­a fter Eleonora’s death suggests that the tides ­were once again turning against the maverick goldsmith. Nonetheless, Abramo’s message might also be read as an indication that “the card player” was feeling pressure to agree to pacification with Salomone / Ercole and his associates. This pressure was possibly exerted by Duke Ercole d’Este, Eleonora’s widower, who, luckily for our protagonist, indeed took him ­u nder his wing soon ­a fter her death. During her lifetime, Eleonora of Aragon reinforced Ercole d’Este’s faith with her charitable deeds and piety. A ­ fter her death, however, his own religious devotion increased considerably.37 As he became ever more preoccupied with the state of his soul, the duke, who had already expressed his support of Jewish conversion in previous years, was reluctant to see a Jew who had accepted baptism thanks to his own intervention fall into disgrace. Duke Ercole not only protected the goldsmith from any manifestation of Francesco Gonzaga’s dis­plea­sure over Abramo’s past incrimination but also thereafter provided regular employment for Master Ercole.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Travels and Trou­bles

I

Salomone / Ercole received numerous pieces of silver from the ducal palace, including one censer, or incense container (terribile or turibolo), that ­were to be melted down and reused for creating new wares, mostly for religious purposes.1 Ercole d’Este’s commissioning of ­these works should be understood against the backdrop of his extensive and unparalleled involvement in the founding and decoration of ecclesiastical buildings in the last twelve years of his life. During this period, the duke established or rebuilt fourteen monasteries and churches and initiated the renovation or enlargement of twelve additional religious institutions. This public manifestation of ducal piety, which significantly expanded Ferrara’s religious landscape, involved numerous commissions of decorations for the interiors of the new buildings: paintings, sculptures, and liturgical vessels made of precious metals. The ecclesiastical wares produced during t­ hese years, albeit no longer extant or identifiable ­today, numbered among Ferrarese goldsmiths’ most ambitious works.2 Master Ercole produced no fewer than four reliquary tabernacles as part of this large-­scale ducal proj­ect.3 The tabernacle, a common form of architectural enshrinement, became increasingly popu­lar in central and N 1493–1505,

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northern Italy in the late M ­ iddle Ages. In the fifteenth c­ entury, goldsmiths ­were often charged with producing elaborate silver tabernacles.4 It was precisely this type of exquisite and costly work that the baptized Jew made for the duke. The registers of the office of the ducal Wardrobe (Guardaroba) describe one such silver tabernacle that was cast, enameled, gilded, and adorned with straforo—­that is with the intaglio or incision of a gold leaf—by Master Ercole’s own hand. 5 Tabernacles w ­ ere designed to store, protect, and focus devotion on objects deemed worthy of special veneration that w ­ ere placed inside them, be they consecrated hosts, miraculous images, or saints’ relics. The demand for the latter ­rose with the laity’s growing desire, from the twelfth ­century onward, for close contact with relics and with the consequent concern of Church authorities regarding the improper ­handling of the earthly remains of saints. Despite being displayed in local churches and serving a public devotional function, reliquary tabernacles ­were usually the product of private lay patronage by members of the ruling elites.6 Originally common mainly north of the Alps, by the late f­ourteenth ­century silver reliquary tabernacles already adorned some churches in northern Italy.7 Duke Ercole’s commissioning of a relic tabernacle from his namesake Master Ercole in 1494 was mentioned by art historian Adolfo Venturi in the early twentieth ­century. 8 It was then also noted in Constantino Bulgari’s brief discussion of Salomone / Ercole’s life, in his reference work on Italian goldsmiths.9 All other studies on the goldsmith’s oeuvre, however, disregard this and the other tabernacles that he produced during the last twelve years of Ercole d’Este’s rule.10 Unaware both of documentary evidence and of the studies of Venturi and Bulgari, in 2003 one art historian went as far as asserting that the Este court rec­ords attest to Master Ercole’s involvement exclusively in making minor works—­ that is, in the production of jewelry pieces.11 Reliquary tabernacles, however, ­were actually among the most significant and costly, as well as the largest, commissions that master goldsmiths could hope to receive in Re­nais­sance Italy. The relic tabernacle of San Petronio, which Bologna’s most successful goldsmith, Iacopo Roseto (fl. 1378–1383), executed in the 1380s, was famous as an artwork in which goldsmithery melded with a mastery of architecture, sculpture, and painting.12 Raffaella Pini, who describes Roseto’s tabernacle as a masterpiece that elevated goldsmithery from



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craft to full-­fledged art, has argued that it influenced ­future generations of goldsmiths not only in Bologna but also in other northern Italian cities, including Ferrara. In the early fifteenth ­century, another goldsmith cast an exquisite relic tabernacle of St. John, which was then publicly displayed in the church of San Giovanni in Monte in the quartiere of Porta Ravennate in Bologna—­the area in which Salomone da Sesso resided during the 1470s.13 Since Jews in Bologna, as in other Eu­ro­pean cities, had business dealings with members of the clergy and regularly entered churches, it is quite plausible that Salomone saw this elaborate tabernacle, or one of the other ecclesiastical wares for which Bologna’s goldsmiths ­were renowned.14 Furthermore, while Salomone was still living in Bologna, he also had the opportunity to examine sacred works of silver or gold in the shops operated by his Jewish acquaintances. Objects of personal devotion ­were occasionally presented as collateral for loans by the laity, and ecclesiastics, too, sometimes handed sacred articles over to Jewish moneylenders in Re­nais­sance Italy. In this manner, Jews who engaged in moneylending became familiar with the forms and styles of ecclesiastical vessels such as censers and tabernacles.15 Art historian Mordechai Narkiss has even suggested that the religious objects pawned to the Jews, as sureties for high-­sum loans, inspired the evolution of Jewish religious art. He offers as an example the Jewish spice box, and argues that its design was influenced by that of medieval Catholic reliquaries.16 Even if Salomone da Sesso was familiar with ecclesiastical wares since his youth, as a Jew he could not hope to be entrusted with similar commissions for expensive and prestigious large-­scale works, of the kind Amadio of Milan and other established goldsmiths in Ferrara received on a regular basis.17 He only began to obtain commissions for relic tabernacles ­after his apostasy. That Ferrara’s princely ruler ordered works of this kind from him is emblematic of the immediate economic benefits that conversion to Catholicism entailed, already half a ­century before offering worldly incentives became part of the Church’s conversionary policy.18 In 1415, Benedict XIII (1394–1417), the last Avignonese pope, issued an anti-­Jewish bull in which, among other restrictions on their economic activities, he prohibited Jews’ engagement in the manufacture or sale of Christian liturgical and devotional objects.19 ­A fter Benedict’s renunciation, Pope Martin V (1417–1431) repealed his oppressive legislation, but it nonetheless had a lasting effect on the Jewry policies a­ dopted in the

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states of central and northern Italy throughout the early modern era.20 Whereas in southern Italy Jewish goldsmiths continued to be involved in creating relic tabernacles well into the 1470s, in the northern parts of the peninsula Jews not only w ­ ere barred from creating ceremonial vessels but also ­were subject to prosecution if suspected of trading in them. 21 Spurring Jews to convert by limiting the profit-­generating pursuits available to them had been the expressed goal of Benedict XIII’s anti-­ Jewish bull, which arguably set the tone for the ­later conversionary policy a­ dopted by the Papal See, notwithstanding its e­ arlier revocation by Martin V.22 Indeed, the restriction of Jewish goldsmiths’ work opportunities to secular commissions has been regarded as a major f­ actor in pushing some Italian Jews who practiced the craft to embrace Chris­tian­ity ­after 1415.23 As we saw ­earlier, in Salomone da Sesso’s case, more weighty considerations ­were at stake. Nonetheless, the goldsmith willingly availed himself of the economic possibilities prompted by his apostasy. As for Master Ercole’s ducal patron, in commissioning four reliquary tabernacles, an incense container, and other costly religious works—­a ll meant for display in Ferrarese churches—­from a baptized Jew, he publicized the earthly fruits to be reaped from Jewish conversion. At the same time, Ercole d’Este’s employment of a neophyte in the production of religious wares was meant to showcase the Jew’s complete transformation into a Christian. Assigning the creation of ecclesiastical wares to a convert thus served to further enhance the duke’s reputation as a devout princely ruler. Although Duke Ercole became the goldsmith’s chief patron ­after Eleonora of Aragon’s death, Master Ercole continued to accept commissions from the c­ ouple’s d ­ aughter Isabella d’Este. Hence, in a letter that the Marchioness of Mantua sent the Este courtier Girolamo Ziliolo (or Giglioli, fl. 1491–1529) on January 21, 1494, she asked him to procure a gilded book cover from “Master Ercole, who used to be a Jew,” which would resemble the one that the goldsmith had produced for her late m ­ other.24 Ziliolo had been serving as Duke Ercole’s court chamberlain (maestro camerlengo), the man responsible for the acquisition, safekeeping, and repair of the precious portable objects that ­were designed to add luster to the ducal court, since 1485.25 Both Isabella’s m ­ other and her sister-­in-­law Anna Sforza had relied on him for purchasing luxury goods.



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Ziliolo knew Isabella well from her ­earlier years at the court of Ferrara, and a­ fter meeting the demands of her m ­ other and other w ­ omen of the Este court, he was quite familiar with the taste of this circle. 26 The marchesa rightly deemed him suitable for overseeing a commission from Master Ercole. Even though in her correspondence with her husband back in 1491 Isabella had stressed the transformative power of baptism that could turn a Jewish criminal into an innocent Christian, in the request that she addressed to Ziliolo more than two years ­later, Master Ercole the goldsmith was still identified as a former Jew. Indeed, notwithstanding the baptismal rite that was supposed to have turned him into a new man, an alteration epitomized by the imposition of a Christian name, not only the goldsmith’s Jewish acquaintances, such as Abramo, but also his new coreligionists alluded to his Jewish past when referring to him in writing for at least twelve years ­a fter the ceremony that had signaled his conversion.27 As t­ hese repeated references indicate, despite the clear professional and economic advantages their adoption of the predominant faith yielded, adult converts in Re­nais­sance Italy continued to be marked by their Jewish origins, and their anomalous status as former Jews colored their integration into Christian society long a­ fter their formal ac­ cep­t ance of Catholicism. While Master Ercole was engaged in creating silver tabernacles and censers for Ercole d’Este and in producing minor gold works for the duke’s d ­ aughter, Jewish exiles from Spain began arriving in the Italian Peninsula. As early as November 1492, Duke Ercole heeded the request of twenty-­one Spanish Jewish families to s­ ettle in Ferrara, and additional Iberian Jews followed suit.28 The duke allowed the newly arrived to practice any trade, with the exception of moneylending, creating competition for local craftsmen and arousing considerable resentment, which culminated in the cries for the Spanish Jews’ expulsion following an outbreak of the plague in Ferrara in 1493.29 Among the newcomers w ­ ere the likes of Medina Spagnuolo, Benedetto Spagnuolo, Piero Spagnuolo, and Martin Spagnuolo, talented goldsmiths who w ­ ere quickly engaged in production by members of the 30 ducal ­family. Two of the Spanish Jewish goldsmiths, known as Master Gonzales and Master Iacob Zapaio, soon obtained permission from Duke Ercole to trade in jewelry. 31 We do not know how the esteem in

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which the skills of the Spanish Jewish goldsmiths w ­ ere held at the Este court impacted Salomone / Ercole. Yet even if demand for his work diminished, his special status as a recent convert from Judaism ensured him of commissions from Duke Ercole, at a time when Spanish Jewish exiles in Ferrara ­were subject to considerable pressure to convert to Catholicism. 32 A new opportunity to capitalize on his position as a neophyte presented itself ­toward the end of 1494, when the goldsmith became aware of the precarious standing of Jewish moneylenders in Florence and resolved to benefit from their plight. Following the onset of the Italian Wars and the collapse of the Medicean hegemony in Florence, which had proved favorable to the presence of Jewish moneylenders in the city, calls for the banishment of the Jews and its corollary, the establishment of a Monte di Pietà, became more vociferous than ever before.33 As the troops of King Charles VIII (1470–1498) swept into Italy in September 1494, some Jewish bankers from Florence shifted their financial interests to Ferrara, where they had ties with Manuele Norsa, with whom Salomone / Ercole is known to have been in touch both before and a­ fter his conversion. 34 The presence of Tuscan Jews in Ferrara, and their association with local coreligionists, rendered the crisis in Jewish moneylending in Florence widely known in the Este ducal capital.35 Aware of the vulnerability of the heirs of his ­father Mele’s former business partners, who continued to work as bankers in Florence, in December  1494 Salomone / Ercole resolved to travel to his city of birth, in order to demand certain assets from them. 36 Ricca, the goldsmith’s ­mother, had already received her late husband’s share in the com­pany’s revenues back in the 1460s, but Salomone / Ercole now demanded his part in the com­pany’s movable goods that ­were still held in common owner­ship among the heirs of the former partners. ­These goods consisted mainly of vacchette, oblong books bound in cowhide, or rather of “manuscript Hebrew books, and especially of a certain book called the Specchietto.”37 Although Mele da Sessa was long dead, “now Salomone, his only natu­ral son, who was once a Jew but ­today is a Christian called Ercole, [and is] Mele’s universal heir,” claimed that he was entitled to receive the Specchietto and other unspecified Hebrew manuscripts. 38 Knowing that courts of law usually backed converts in litigation against their erstwhile coreligionists, 39 and aware of their shaky position following the reinstitution of the republic in Florence in the fall



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of 1494, the Jewish moneylenders resolved to reach an agreement with Salomone / Ercole. Some of them already agreed to give him the part of the goods that he demanded on December 18, and the ­others did so on December 24. In return, the goldsmith committed to renouncing any further claims on the heirs of his f­ ather’s Jewish associates. Some of the men mentioned in the notarial documents of 1494 had known Mele da Sessa’s son since his childhood in Florence. One of them, Lazzaro of Volterra, was the son of Mele’s close friend Emanuele di Bonaventura of Volterra, who had acted as ­legal guardian for the goldsmith’s m ­ other, Ricca, a­ fter her husband’s death.40 Lazzaro himself had been in touch with Salomone and his m ­ other while the two of them resided in Bologna, and he was well aware of the periodic bailouts Ricca provided to her son prior to Matteo Curialti’s drafting of her testament in 1485.41 Mele da Sessa’s baptized son arrived in Florence only a few weeks ­a fter the insurrection against the Medici following Charles VIII’s invasion of the Italian Peninsula. He was in the city during the Advent season of 1494, while the Florentines debated the reforms inspired by the prophetic sermons of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, who enthusiastically supported Jewish conversion to Chris­tian­ity and whose popularity during this period was at its peak.42 As part of Savonarola’s campaign to bring about the renovation of Christendom by purging society from sin, the friar targeted corrupt ecclesiastics, sodomites, prostitutes, and also Jews—­because of their engagement in usurious activities. Merely a year ­after Salomone / Ercole’s sojourn in Florence, Fra Girolamo oversaw the establishment of a Monte di Pietà in this city and the Florentine authorities officially banned Jews’ engagement in moneylending, decreeing that they should leave Florence within a year (although their expulsion was ­later deferred).43 While ­these steps against the Jews only came into effect in 1495, by the time Master Ercole arrived in Florence, he had ­every reason to hope to have the upper hand when dealing with Jewish moneylenders. The Specchietto and the other vacchette that the goldsmith obtained in 1494 had in all likelihood been given to his f­ ather and his partners as collateral for loans that ­were never paid back, and thus remained in the moneylenders’ possession.44 Pawning books in manuscript form was a common practice, and Master Ercole was prob­ably ­eager to get his hands on the codices in question to meet the demand for Hebrew books in the

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court cities of Ferrara and Mantua. Well-­to-do Jews, including the goldsmith’s Ferrarese acquaintance Manuele Norsa, employed Jewish scribes to produce manuscripts in Hebrew for them, but Christian humanists, such as Pellegrino Prisciani (1435–1518), ­were also keen to acquire Hebrew codices.45 The interest in Hebrew manuscripts, it should be noted, was not ­limited to Hebraists who could actually read them but also included some of Salomone / Ercole’s noble patrons at the Gonzaga court in Mantua—­notably Marchioness Isabella, who tried to get Bernardino de’ Prosperi and her other trusted correspondents to obtain Hebrew manuscripts so that she could have them translated.46 It was to the court of Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga that Salomone / Ercole returned from his successful trip to Florence—­hoping, perhaps, to sell his recently acquired Hebrew manuscripts. Yet merely two months a­ fter Master Ercole had settled his scores with the heirs of his ­father’s business partners in Florence, the Marquis of Mantua already ordered the goldsmith’s banishment from his state. A ­ fter concluding an investigation of Master Ercole’s claims that the Mantuan Jews had falsely incriminated him, Francesco Gonzaga de­cided to revoke the safe-­ conduct that he had granted him. In the missive that the marquis addressed to Master Ercole on February 18, 1495, he affirmed: “We received information that the accusations that You have set and made against ­these Jews ­here [in Mantua] are false and wicked and [are] aimed at destroying them and harming them.” 47 We may recall h ­ ere that, in September 1491, the marquis of Mantua had already expressed his skepticism regarding the possibility that a depraved Jew could ever become a pious Christian.48 This notion reflected the popu­lar attitude t­ oward adult neophytes such as Salomone / Ercole and Angelo di Vitale, who ­were known to have accepted baptism ­u nder the pressure of judicial condemnation or financial disaster. Converts of this kind w ­ ere commonly regarded in premodern Italy as untrustworthy men, who w ­ ere willing to abandon their community of belief for material 49 gain. The goldsmith’s disloyalty to the faith of his ancestors raised the possibility of his capacity for ­future betrayal and thus, long ­after his baptism, he continued to arouse suspicions of dishonesty and even downright deceit. Back in 1491, Isabella d’Este had firmly expressed the opposite view. By the time her consort received the Mantuan Jews’ complaints about



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Ercole the neophyte in February 1495, however, the marchioness had departed from Mantua. Isabella, who resumed her commissions from the goldsmith ­after his conversion and would continue to order jewelry from him over the next thirty years, spent the winter of 1495 in Milan, where on February 4 her s­ ister Beatrice gave birth to a baby boy. 50 So this time Salomone / Ercole could not rely on the ­d aughter of his ducal patron, who four years ­earlier had adroitly deferred the execution of his kinsman Angelo. In his warning to the goldsmith of February 1495, Francesco Gonzaga stressed the malice that motivated his false and vicious allegations against the Jews of Mantua.51 Confident in the unwavering wickedness of Salomone / Ercole, the marquis affirmed that he had by then had enough of his roguery and cautioned him against setting foot in Gonzaga lands again. The goldsmith’s three Christian assistants, Giovanni Battista, Ippolito, and Leone, w ­ ere also ordered to leave the Mantuan state. 52 Driven out of Mantua at the marquis’s ­orders, Master Ercole departed from the city for good. Although he occasionally left Ferrara on business in the years to come, when he needed to negotiate commissions with Francesco’s consort he always sent his son Alfonso as his representative and never returned to Mantua himself. 53 As Francesco Gonzaga’s dispatch demonstrates, the circumstances leading to Salomone da Sesso’s incrimination and ensuing baptism long remained a sore point between him and his former coreligionists in Mantua. As they had done back in 1491, the Mantuan Jews enlisted Francesco Gonzaga’s support in order to rid themselves of the danger that the goldsmith’s allegations posed for their well-­being. 54 Salomone / Ercole, who had openly attacked Mantua’s Jews for having falsely implicated him in serious crimes in his baptismal oration, evidently continued to voice such accusations more than three years ­a fter his conversion. His enduring animosity t­ oward the Mantuan Jews once again points to the gravity of the misdeeds that had led them to eject him from Jewish society and to strive to ensure that Christian authorities severely punished him and Angelo di Vitale. Just as the Jew Abramo had done in December  1493, so in February  1495 the goldsmith’s Jewish adversaries turned to Francesco Gonzaga for aid in their attempts to ­settle their scores with him.

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CHAPTER T WELVE

Cesare Borgia’s “Queen of Swords”

M 

E RCOLE’S Mantuan foes certainly found a sympathetic ear with the marquis. Nonetheless, when Francesco banished the goldsmith from Gonzaga lands, the marquis’s father-­in-­law welcomed him back to the Este duchy. Despite the growing competition from Spanish Jewish goldsmiths, Master Ercole continued to enjoy Ercole d’Este’s ­favor, and ­a fter his eviction from Mantua he resumed his work as the duke’s court goldsmith. Nor ­were his financial dealings with his erstwhile coreligionists over ­a fter he had gotten hold of the Hebrew manuscripts in Florence. Thus, on March  20, 1497, Master Ercole came to the Jewish bank known as the Banco della Ripa, where in the presence of two witnesses he received a sum of 110 gold florins from his old acquaintance Manuele Norsa.1 According to a notarial act of the Ferrarese notary Bartolomeo Codegori, the 110 florins ­were the remainder of the sum that Norsa had kept for the goldsmith, as per the notarial document drafted by Giacobo Vincenzi.2 As noted in chapter 3, Vincenzi had certified the agreement between Salomone da Sesso and his brother-­in-­law Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio in December 1489 regarding the sum owed to ASTER

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the goldsmith’s sons for their share in his ­mother’s inheritance. The money was to be kept by a trustworthy man at least u ­ ntil mid-­March 1490, but thereafter Salomone could demand that it be handed over, for eventual use by his sons. 3 Having already received some of the money before March 1497, when he obtained the remaining sum of 110 florins from Manuele Norsa, Salomone / Ercole now agreed to relinquish any further claims on Ferrara’s wealthiest Jew for this money.4 In Codegori’s notarial act, the recipient of the 110 florins was identified as “Master Ercole da Sesso, son of the late Mele, a former Jew, goldsmith of our most illustrious Lord the Duke.”5 The man who prior to his apostasy from Judaism had signed his letter merely as “Salamone, goldsmith of the most illustrious lady, the Duchess of Ferrara,” 6 continued a­ fter his baptism to identify himself in his missives solely by his profession—the one ele­ment of his identity that remained constant and of which he was patently proud—­without alluding to his Jewish past.7 In contrast, the Christian notary Bartolomeo Codegori did designate Master Ercole as a former Jew, and not only as Ercole d’Este’s court goldsmith. For neither Jew nor Christian, then, did the convert’s Jewishness fade as he took on a new Catholic identity and the baptismal name Ercole. Nonetheless, in this case, as in the notarial documents attesting to his reception of the Hebrew manuscripts in Florence in 1494, the notaries’ insistence on recording his Jewish origins served Master Ercole’s financial interests. As the son of the late Jews Mele da Sessa and Ricca Finzi, he was able to make claims pertaining to their assets several years a­ fter his apostasy from Judaism. As the notarial documents that referred to Master Ercole, the former Jew, make clear, converting to Chris­tian­ity in Re­nais­sance Italy not only opened new professional doors for neophytes, such as becoming master craftsmen and even producing ecclesiastical wares. It also enabled them to make claims for their presumed shares in the inheritance of their Jewish kinsmen and provided them with clear advantages when demanding material assets from their former coreligionists. If their hybrid identity as “new Christians” stood in the way of full assimilation into Catholic society, whose members unceasingly reminded converts of their Jewish past, it also entailed unequivocal economic rewards. Enjoying the material benefits brought about by his religious conversion, at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries Master Ercole

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achieved his claim to fame as the engraver of swords commissioned by some of the key military and po­l iti­cal figures of the Italian Wars. 8 Engraving was a goldsmith’s most demanding technique, and it epitomized the heights to which he might aspire as an artist. Engraved swords with gilt and enameled hilts ­were a vital ele­ment in masculine fashion, and they ­were produced by northern Italian goldsmiths who specialized in jewelry. Showcasing a goldsmith’s artistic virtuosity, engraving such swords commanded the highest premium.9 Master Ercole excelled in the making of a short type of sword known as cinquedea: a double-­ edge fighting sword-­ dagger first used in the northern regions of Italy, which was made of converging metal threads. The sword usually mea­sured five fin­ger widths across the base of the blade, whence its name, originating from the Italian words cinque (five) and dita (fin­gers).10 Renowned for his mastery of disegno, Salomone / Ercole is believed to have been highly instrumental in the evolution of cinquedea design.11 In the late nineteenth ­century, Charles Yriarte attributed the famous cinquedea of Cesare Borgia (1475–1507), known as the “Queen of Swords,” to Master Ercole and also identified him as the engraver of several other cinquedea swords, all noted for the handsome classical scenes that adorned their blades.12 Following the publication of Yriarte’s study, virtually all late fifteenth-­century and early sixteenth-­century Italian cinquedea swords ­were ascribed to Salomone / Ercole.13 The poet Gabriele D’Annunzio (1863–1938) accordingly mentioned the former Jew from Ferrara as the goldsmith responsible for engraving Cesare Borgia’s celebrated sword in his novel Forse che sì, forse che no (Maybe, maybe not), first published in 1910.14 Eight years ­later, Paolo Picca published a pamphlet in Milan, titled Ercole de’ Fedeli e la regina delle spade (Ercole de’ Fedeli and the Queen of Swords), which hailed Salomone / Ercole as the engraver of the “Queen of Swords.”15 In 1966, museum curator Claude Blair called into question Yriarte’s identification of Salomone / Ercole as the artist who had produced Cesare Borgia’s cinquedea and the other swords that w ­ ere attributed to him on stylistic grounds, albeit stating, “It must be admitted that it is impossible at pre­sent to prove that Yriarte was wrong.”16 Some of the more recent studies simply disregard the points that Blair raised, continuing to attribute numerous Italian cinquedea swords to Master Ercole’s workshop.17



C esare B orgia ’ s “ Q ueen of S words ”

Fig.  9. ​Cesare Borgia’s “Queen of Swords,” by Salomone da Sesso / Ercole de’ Fedeli. Circa 1498 / 1499. Fondazione Camillo Caetani, Rome. Photo by Elizabeth Bemis. Reproduced with permission.

Nonetheless, in light of Blair’s criticism, several scholars have refuted the attribution of specific cinquedee, such as the one that belonged to Francesco Gonzaga, to Salomone / Ercole.18 Given the marquis’s strained relationship with Master Ercole from August 1491 onward, it indeed seems unlikely that he would have commissioned swords, or any other piece of armory, from him a­ fter his conversion to Chris­t ian­ity.19

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In 2003, Mario Scalini rejected the attribution of certain swords that used to belong to Dukes Ercole I and Alfonso I d’Este to Salomone / Ercole, based on the presumption that extant archival sources attest solely to the goldsmith’s engagement in the production of pieces of jewelry and not in more substantial kinds of work. 20 Nonetheless, the evidence at hand does indicate that Master Ercole received vari­ous large-­scale commissions, notably for ceremonial wares such as relic tabernacles, from Ercole d’Este in 1494–1505 and that he also l­ ater produced gold medallions (tondi) featuring classicized themes reminiscent of the ones that adorned the “Queen of Swords.”21 Moreover, in 1505, one of Salomone / Ercole’s works was hailed by a leading connoisseur in Ferrara as the most “refined and elegant” t­ hing ever created in this city.22 The artistic virtuosity that we have seen Isabella d’Este praise in a letter unknown to Scalini, and to other scholars who have debated Salomone / Ercole da Sesso’s production of certain cinquedee, made him eminently capable of creating such elaborately engraved swords. 23 As far as stylistic analy­sis is concerned, in 1993 art historian Roberta Bianco convincingly reaffirmed Yriarte’s identification of Salomone / Ercole as engraver of the “Queen of Swords” and of eight additional cinquedee.24 Most subsequent studies have followed Bianco in attributing Cesare Borgia’s cinquedea, and a few other swords whose stylistic traits strongly resemble its design, to Salomone / Ercole. In a 2018 cata­log of an exhibition in which the “Queen of Swords” was displayed, Scalini himself conceded its attribution, and that of several other swords, to Salomone / Ercole.25 During the first years of the Italian Wars, Cesare Borgia, son of the infamous Pope Alexander VI (r. 1492–1503), emerged as the most formidable Italian leader of his time. Cesare’s ruthless state-­building methods in the Romagna region, a blend of audacity, cruelty, and military prowess, left a profound impression on Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527), who immortalized them in The Prince.26 Cesare’s acclaimed cinquedea bears the inscription “CES. BORG/CARD.VA/LEN” (Caesar Borgia Cardinalis Valentianus), indicating that it was originally produced while Cesare was still the cardinal of Valencia (in 1493–1498), most likely just before he received papal permission to renounce the red hat in August of that year.27 Nonetheless, Elizabeth Bemis has proposed that while the sword in its foun-



C esare B orgia ’ s “ Q ueen of S words ”

dational state had already belonged to Cesare before 1498, during his cardinalate, it was ­later prepared with engravings for Alexander VI’s pre­ sen­ta­tion of this cinquedea to his son as the Blessed Sword, in 1500. At this stage, the sword’s hilt was also gilt and decorated with colored enamel.28 Master Ercole was familiar with this kind of work, having often applied precious enamels to the pieces of jewelry that he manufactured for Isabella d’Este and his other aristocratic patrons, 29 as well as gilding and enameling the tabernacles that Duke Ercole had commissioned from him. 30 A true Re­nais­sance artist, the virtuoso goldsmith signed his name, inscribing the “Queen of Swords” with the words “OPUS HERC.” (Opus Herculis). In addition, a monogram of Cesare’s name, the Borgia coat of arms, and scrolling fo­l iage are ­etched on the sword. Its decoration also includes six classical scenes crowded with nude or seminude female and male figures and classicized arches, all executed in an impeccable manner. One of the scenes pre­sents Julius Caesar, Cesare Borgia’s namesake and source of inspiration, crossing the Rubicon. Another depicts the Triumph of Caesar with Caesar, holding an olive branch, carried by a chariot inscribed “D. Cesar” (Divus Caesar). A third scene features the Triumph of Love and shows Cupid surrounded by nude figures. 31 Themes such as the Triumph of Caesar and the Triumph of Love ­were especially popu­lar in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries due to the influence of the Trionfi (Triumphs), Petrarch’s major collection of poetry, on Italian Re­nais­sance culture. One of the best-­known artistic commissions depicting a triumphal pro­cession in the Quattrocento was the series of nine canvases known as The Triumph of Caesar that Andrea Mantegna painted for Francesco Gonzaga in Mantua. Mantegna worked on this masterpiece from around 1484 through the late 1480s and 1490s, and it was already much admired during his lifetime. 32 Salomone / Ercole, who visited Mantua on several occasions before his ultimate banishment from this city in 1495, was familiar with Mantegna’s works and admired his artistic prowess. In 1505, upon learning from Isabella d’Este’s agent of the appraisal that his own creations had won, the goldsmith asked the marchioness “to show them to Master Andrea Mantegna,” a clear indication of his familiarity with the el­derly painter and of his admiration for Mantegna’s artistic achievements. 33

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Like Mantegna and other artists of this era, Master Ercole was doubtlessly acquainted with humanists and antiquarians. 34 The composition of the “Queen of Swords” may have been suggested to him by a humanist adviser, possibly one affiliated with the papal court. Alternatively, as Learco Andalò has argued, it may have been based on a drawing by one of the artists who enjoyed the Borgias’ patronage, such as Pinturicchio (Bernardino di Betto, 1454–1513), the painter of the frescoes in the Borgia apartments at the Vatican palace whom Cesare greatly esteemed. 35 In order to execute the cinquedea’s design as masterfully as he did, however, Salomone / Ercole also must have been well versed in ancient art, as ­were the other goldsmiths who ­were active in Mantua and in Ferrara in ­t hose years. Like Pier Jacopo Alari Bonacolsi (known as “l’Antico”), Gian Cristoforo Romano, and especially Ermes Flavio36 —­ with whom he was personally acquainted—­Master Ercole taught himself how to incorporate classical ele­ments into his own works with outstanding technical and stylistic fidelity. 37 The incorporation of pagan and classical allusions, ancient Roman architectural background, and naked or loosely dressed figures characterized the swords attributed to Master Ercole, 38 who already in the first de­cade of the Cinquecento began signing them with the surname “De’ Fidelis”—­that is, one of the faithful.39 Another convert from Judaism, the Venetian Simele da Montagnana, ­a dopted the same surname ­a fter his conversion to Catholicism ­later in the sixteenth ­century. Tellingly, Simele, like Salomone / Ercole, had vari­ous brushes with the law and sought to shed the vestiges of his Jewish origins for many years ­a fter his baptism.40 As in Simele’s case, Master Ercole’s use of the surname “De’ Fidelis” (or Fedeli) may have formed part of his attempts to purge his reputation of the blemish of disreputable crimes and to foster an image of an orthodox and pious Catholic. De’ Fedeli was also the name of a well-­k nown ­family of paint­ers, whose members ­were active in Milan and its vicinity in the late fifteenth ­century.41 Salomone / Ercole, who hoped that his sons Alfonso and Ferrante would follow in his professional footsteps,42 could very well have heard about the famous Lombard f­ amily of paint­ers. He hence took on a new surname for himself and his sons that not only would stress their adherence to the Catholic faith but also, perhaps, would remind their potential patrons of an established artistic dynasty.



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Fig.  10. ​ Cinquedea sword attributed to Salomone da Sesso / Ercole de’ Fedeli. Late fifteenth or early sixteenth c­ entury. Detail. Museo Stibbert, Florence. Foto Archivio Museo Stibbert, Firenze. Reproduced with permission. Impeccable technique and loosely dressed or naked figures, such as the ones adorning this cinquedea, became a hallmark of the swords attributed to Salomone / Ercole.

Master Ercole’s repertoire was somewhat ­limited, but his technique was considered impeccable, arousing the admiration of con­temporary connoisseurs and l­ ater art historians alike.43 Ercole d’Este, who took a keen practical interest in metalwork and even had a goldsmith’s studio (oreficeria) built in his palace,44 quickly realized the potential of commissioning engraved swords from his renowned protégé. In the course of 1499–1500, Master Ercole prepared a sword that his ducal patron gave to Gian Giacomo Trivulzio (1447–1518), another key protagonist in the Italian Wars.45 A legendary military commander previously at the ser­v ice of the Sforza rulers of Milan, in 1499 Trivulzio possessed knowledge of Milanese territory that was instrumental in enabling King Louis XII (1462– 1515) to take hold of the duchy. The king of France rewarded Trivulzio by appointing him as Marquis of Vigevano and as the French-­employed governor of Milan.46 The House of Este was traditionally pro-­French, and

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Duke Ercole did not abandon this po­liti­cal leaning ­after the onset of warfare on Italian lands. In 1498, he met with Louis XII and renewed his pledges of loyalty to France, nourishing Ferrara’s alliance with the kingdom through courtesies shown to its sovereign and to his chief Italian allies.47 Hence, Ercole d’Este deemed it wise to pre­sent Gian Giacomo Trivulzio with a sword, which was engraved by his highly esteemed goldsmith, to mark Trivulzio’s dual appointment by Louis XII.48 Trivulzio was a noted art patron and collector who showed a considerable interest in classical culture, commissioned manuscripts of ancient texts, and had his palace decorated with Roman inscriptions.49 He surely valued the classical motifs that adorned the sword that the duke of Ferrara bequeathed to him. The masterly execution of Trivulzio’s sword and possibly also of another cinquedea that he engraved around 1500,50 as well as the relic tabernacles and the other works that Master Ercole created for the duke, led Ercole d’Este to bestow additional f­ avors on him. Hence, in February 1502, the duke selected the goldsmith’s ­d aughter Anna as one of the female attendants of Lucrezia Borgia, his son Alfonso’s second wife. 51

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Anna Lucrezia Borgia’s Damsel

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S FORZA, Alfonso d’Este’s consort who had participated in Salomone’s conversion ceremony in 1491 and whose name was lent to the goldsmith’s younger ­daughter, passed away in 1497. Just as the duke was contemplating a marriage alliance for his son with the French monarch, Pope Alexander VI made it known that he had his eyes on Alfonso d’Este for his d ­ aughter Lucrezia.1 Ercole d’Este was naturally reluctant to wed his son to the pope’s ­d aughter, who not only had been born out of wedlock but, by age twenty, had already been betrothed three times and married twice. Wary of the damage to the Estensi’s prestige that could result from a link to Lucrezia’s notorious f­ amily, Duke Ercole was nonetheless anxious to secure his duchy from the Borgias’ growing power just south of Ferrara, and so he eventually gave in.2 In January 1502, Lucrezia departed from Rome. Her arrival in Ferrara on February 2 as Don Alfonso’s bride proved rather auspicious for the engraver of her ­brother Cesare’s “Queen of Swords.” While the preparations for Lucrezia’s entrance into Ferrara ­were still in full steam, Duke Ercole had handpicked girls from Ferrarese families who ­were to serve as live-in attendants for her at the palace. 3 NNA

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A handwritten list of the designated maidens mentions the ­daughter of Ercole the goldsmith, who used to be a Jew: “La figliola che fu d’Hercule pi orevese già hebreo.” 4 The crossed-­out “pi” may suggest that the scribe had initially thought of identifying the goldsmith by his original Jewish name—­that is, as Ercole, who was previously called (“prima detto”) Salomone, but changed his mind, deciding to refer to him first as a goldsmith and only afterward as a former Jew—­w ithout noting his original Jewish name. In the list incorporated into the chronicle of Bernardino Zambotti, the goldsmith’s ­daughter was designated as “the ­daughter of the former Jew Ercole the goldsmith.”5 Although the name of the goldsmith’s ­d aughter did not appear on the list of selected donzelle, in a communication discussing Lucrezia’s efforts to secure the marriage of her damsels, which Bernardino de’ Prosperi sent Isabella d’Este four years l­ater, the girl is identified as “Anna, Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter.” 6 According to the chronicler Bernardino Zambotti, all the Ferrarese damsels chosen by the duke ­were ­under eigh­teen years of age.7 At the time of Lucrezia Borgia’s arrival in the city, Anna’s older s­ ister, Caterina, was already twenty-­three years old, beyond the age of a donzella.8 Anna, who had been born between 1484 and 1491, was perfectly suited for the favorable post.9 The donzelle list includes a mention of “Violante, the former Jew,” yet the d ­ aughter of the baptized Jewish goldsmith Ercole is only designated as such, and not as a convert. In all likelihood, this difference had to do with the scribe’s difficulty in identifying Violante’s f­ ather. Indeed, in the manuscript listing the selected girls, the word figliola (­daughter) was originally written and then crossed out and replaced with the damsel’s baptismal name, Violante.10 As was common practice in Re­nais­sance Italy, Lucrezia was to travel from her home city accompanied by a core of her staff, including servants, craftsmen, lords, and ladies. Few of t­ hese courtiers would remain in Ferrara ­a fter the end of her first year ­t here. By this time, ­a fter having negotiated the terms of the operation with the duke, she would choose which members of her retinue would return to Rome, ­a fter which she could forge new links of patronage with local families by employing Ferrarese w ­ omen and men.11 Prior to Lucrezia’s arrival in Ferrara, Ercole d’Este had already drawn up a list of six Ferrarese ­women and of twice as many ­d aughters of

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Ferrarese aristocrats, merchants, and distinguished craftsmen who ­were to serve as her female attendants.12 Isabella d’Este tried to have a ­daughter of Alessandro Bonvesin, b ­ rother of Duke Ercole’s trusted confidant Carlo, better known as “il Barone,” included on the list.13 In a letter that she sent her f­ ather, Isabella noted that Alessandro’s poverty had already moved her to take two of his ­d aughters into her own court in Mantua, but “this did not mean that the poor man was left without the burden of other d ­ aughters,” so she asked to have one of them placed at Lucrezia’s court.14 Such ­were the economic and social advantages that having a ­d aughter admitted as a donzella carried for her f­ ather. Girls chosen as companions to the female members of the Este and Gonzaga houses saved their parents substantial sums of money. Their families did not need to pay for their room and board, nor did they have to provide their d ­ aughters with clothing during their years of ser­vice or bear the cost of educating them.15 Damsels in the ser­v ice of Ferrara’s duchesses received a courtly upbringing; they ­were taught reading and writing, as well as dancing, playing musical instruments, illuminating manuscripts, and embroidering.16 Most impor­tant of all, their mistress was in charge of placing them with suitable husbands.17 Hence, four years a­ fter settling in Ferrara and a year ­a fter her husband’s ascension to the ducal throne, Lucrezia Borgia married off the girls who had joined her ­house­hold upon her arrival at the Este’s ducal capital. She not only found spouses for her donzelle but also assisted them in amassing sufficient dowries. Bernardino de’ Prosperi began reporting about the damsels’ matches in January 1506, and on February 8 declared: “­every day the illustrious duchess marries off one of her [damsels].” Prosperi continued to recount the betrothals and weddings of Lucrezia’s donzelle throughout 1506–1507.18 On April 27, 1506, he informed Isabella of the marriage of Anna, Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter.19 Given the perks awaiting girls who entered the ser­v ice of Ferrara’s ­future duchess, it is not surprising that Ferrarese f­athers such as Alessandro Bonvesin resorted to influential patrons in the hope of convincing Ercole d’Este to select their d ­ aughters for Lucrezia’s court. The duke, however, kept his own counsel on the ­matter. Bernardino de’ Prosperi— who only three years ­later managed to get Isabella d’Este to accept his own ­daughter, Eleonora, as one of her retinue—­strove to discover the names of Lucrezia’s prospective donzelle throughout the month of

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January 1502.20 On the list that he sent the marchioness on January 8, neither the neophyte Violante nor Master Ercole’s ­daughter Anna was mentioned, while a relative of the influential Ferrarese courtier and Isabella’s ever-­busy agent Girolamo Ziliolo was. As Prosperi remarked, however, the list that he copied into his dispatch had still not been publicized, and it certainly was not final.21 Prosperi persisted in his efforts to obtain additional information about the damsels, and on January 27 he informed Isabella that Duke Ercole had made his choices.22 Only six of the girls whom Prosperi had mentioned in his ­earlier missive of January 8 made it onto the list that the duke made public in the following month: the ­d aughter of the spenditore Nicolò Dalaro; the ­d aughter of the fattore Federico Maffei; the ­d aughter of Sigismondo Trotti, a member of one of Ferrara’s most influential families; the ­d aughter of Calisto da la Penna; the d ­ aughter of Jacomo de Lezolo; and the d ­ aughter of Vincenzo da Bagnacavallo. The duke evidently did not heed his ­d aughter’s request to have Bonvesin’s ­d aughter admitted into Lucrezia Borgia’s court. Girolamo Ziliolo’s kinswoman was also missing from the list, although she was eventually accepted as one of the donzelle.23 The ex-­Jewess Violante and the ­daughter of the convert Salomone / Ercole ­were both named, and so w ­ ere four other Ferrarese girls: the d ­ aughter of Giovanni de Montino, the s­ ister of Alberto Cantino, the ­daughter of Madonna Formosa (or Formoxa) de’ Merli, and the ­daughter of the late Andrea Feraguto.24 Don Alfonso d’Este’s steward introduced the twelve Ferrarese maidens to Lucrezia Borgia upon her arrival in Ferrarese territory as the ducal heir’s bride. For this festive occasion, the baptized Jewess Anna and the other eleven girls ­were lavishly dressed “in crimson silk gowns and black velvet cloaks lined with black lamb.”25 It has been suggested that the goldsmith Al(f)onso (“Alonso orifice”), one of the men who accompanied Lucrezia on her journey from Rome to Ferrara and was charged with tending to the jewelry and other precious objects that she brought with her, 26 was in fact Master Ercole’s eldest son.27 The twenty-­year-­old Graziadio / Alfonso learned the goldsmith’s craft from his ­father and assisted him at his workshop. ­A fter Lucrezia had settled in Ferrara, Alfonso, together with his f­ ather, produced vari­ous pieces of jewelry for her.28 In light of Master Ercole’s e­ arlier work for Cesare Borgia in 1498–1500 and of Lucrezia’s esteem for his aptitude—as manifested by her decision to employ him as her court goldsmith ­a fter

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Ercole d’Este’s demise—it is certainly plausible that his son Alfonso had been picked as the goldsmith responsible for the safekeeping of her portable valuables during her trip to Ferrara.29 ­W hether or not the young Graziadio / Alfonso was indeed charged with minding Lucrezia’s luxury items on her voyage from Rome, the se­ lection of his s­ ister Anna as donzella of Don Alfonso’s bride was a sure sign of ducal ­favor ­toward their ­father, ­because it ensured Lucrezia’s financial assistance ­toward Anna’s eventual marriage. Master Ercole encountered a serious difficulty in providing marital dowries for his five ­daughters and Anna was, in fact, the only one of them to be wedded before 1521. Indeed Anna was, in all likelihood, the only girl that Salomone / Ercole fathered who ever got married at all—­a nd this, only thanks to Lucrezia’s aid. 30 The ladies-­in-­waiting of early modern aristocratic rulers w ­ ere privy 31 to sensitive information. Recent studies have pointed to the po­l iti­cal agency of damsels in vari­ous Eu­ro­pean courts, occupied with advancing their own goals and t­ hose of their natal families as well as collaborating with the ­women they ­were serving. 32 Duke Ercole’s decision on his daughter-­in-­law’s retinue, then, signaled more than an interest in helping to place Salomone / Ercole on more solid financial footing. It declared his trust in the ­d aughter of a baptized Jew, who would have direct access to Ferrara’s duchess and to other influential figures pre­sent at her court. 33 Shortly ­a fter Anna and the other girls who had been admitted into Lucrezia’s ser­v ice in 1502 ­were married off, Bernardino de’ Prosperi informed Isabella that Alfonso d’Este’s consort was looking for new donzelle, and by November 9, 1507, three of the new damsels had already moved in with Lucrezia. Interestingly, one of t­ hese girls was Liona, the ten-­year-­old ­daughter of Bonaventura de’ Mosto.34 Thus, the d ­ aughter of Salomone / Ercole and the ­d aughter of the man who had interrogated him in the early 1490s both enjoyed the privilege of serving Lucrezia Borgia. That the neophyte’s ­d aughter was able to receive the benefits of residing in Lucrezia’s palace as one of her donzelle, just like Liona de’ Mosto, may well reflect the effort expended by Duke Ercole to secure the complete rehabilitation of the unruly Jew-­t urned-­Christian. Choosing Anna, the ­d aughter of a high-­profile apostate, alongside the neophyte Violante to serve as donzelle, so that one-­sixth of the girls on Ercole d’Este’s final list ­were of Jewish origin, surely speaks volumes

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about the importance that the duke ascribed to Jews’ conversion to Catholicism. This also explains the designation of the two girls’ Jewish background on the list that he made public in 1502. Nor was this the first time that the Este court accepted baptized Jewish girls for such ser­v ice. The list of courtiers who received their salaries from Lucrezia Borgia’s pre­de­ces­sor, Eleonora of Aragon, included a certain Bernardina, “who used to be a Jew” and who served as the duchess’s damsel in 1483–1484.35 Bernardina may have been a ­daughter of Giacomo, the convicted Jewish thief whom Duke Ercole had agreed to ­pardon in 1481 in exchange for his baptism. 36 Much like Giacomo, the goldsmith Salomone was converted u ­ nder duress, and Ercole d’Este helped him out by appointing one of his ­d aughters to serve Ferrara’s new duchess. Lucrezia Borgia’s ­father, Pope Alexander, opposed the baptism of Jewish ­children against their parents’ ­w ill yet favored the conversion of Jews who had reached adulthood. 37 Like Eleonora of Aragon and other aristocratic ­women in Re­nais­sance Italy, Lucrezia herself valued the opportunity to provide a Christian education for formerly Jewish girls by bringing them up at her court. She certainly took an interest in the ex-­ Jewish damsels Violante and Anna, who w ­ ere wed on the heels of her husband’s ascension to the ducal throne. 38 Thus, it was not just adult neophytes but also their c­ hildren who had been baptized as minors who benefited socially from conversion to Chris­ tian­ity. We have already noted the material rewards that Salomone / Ercole derived from crossing over to the Catholic camp during his first years as a Christian: from bearing the honorific title of “Master” goldsmith to receiving costly commissions for ecclesiastical vessels and compelling his erstwhile coreligionists to hand over valuable assets. The backing of Ferrara’s pious rulers, who w ­ ere intent on seeing him prosper, enabled the goldsmith to reach the height of his success as creator of the “Queen of Swords” within a de­cade of his apostasy. And, while his ­daughter’s appointment as a damsel carried with it unmistakable financial dividends for Master Ercole, it also smoothed her way into adult life as an honorable Christian matron. Anna’s elite upbringing and life of luxury at the Ferrarese court was brought to her courtesy of her baptism. U ­ nder Lucrezia’s tutelage, she acquired skills and formed social connections that paved the path to her betrothal to a respectable Christian man. As a female neophyte baptized

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as a young child and educated ­u nder the supervision of a pious upper-­ class ­woman, Anna was able to assimilate into Ferrarese society in a way that her f­ ather, a circumcised male adult, never could. Master Ercole’s firstborn ­d aughter, Caterina, also profited from ducal support in her transition into adult life as a Catholic ­woman, but her destiny proved to be quite dif­fer­ent from that of her ­sister Anna. In 1501, Caterina joined a community of tertiaries, which adhered to a particularly strict rule, in keeping with the ideals of Dominican Observance. This was the tertiaries’ h ­ ouse of Santa Caterina da Siena, which Duke Ercole had established in Ferrara only a few years ­earlier.39 We ­shall now turn to examine Caterina’s profession as a religious ­woman—­which, to an even greater extent than Anna’s assignment to Lucrezia Borgia’s palace, was aimed at publicizing the abiding success of her ­family’s conversion to Chris­t ian ­ity.

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S ­ ister Theodora From Jewish Girl to Bride of Christ

E

RCOLE D’ E STE

founded the tertiaries’ ­house of Santa Caterina da Siena for his celebrated court prophetess, Lucia Brocadelli (1476–1544), who served as prioress of this community in its early years. Brocadelli, a native of Narni who resided in Viterbo and was revered as a visionary and stigmatic, arrived in Ferrara in 1499.1 As the construction of her new monastic h ­ ouse neared completion, the duke wished to augment the number of w ­ omen who entered it.2 In late 1501, he even sought out Lucrezia Borgia’s assistance in ensuring the transfer of fourteen Dominican tertiaries, who had known Brocadelli while she had lived in Narni and in Viterbo, to the new Ferrarese institution. Regarded as a gift to the duke and his saintly protégé, t­ hese tertiaries ­were to arrive in Ferrara slightly in advance of Lucrezia’s bridal party. 3 On September 28, 1501, Ercole d’Este entrusted his court chamberlain, Girolamo Ziliolo, with securing the funds for one stage in the complex operation required for bringing the fourteen tertiaries to Ferrara.4 The duke also sent a letter to his f­ uture daughter-­in-­law, explaining that ­because of his g­ reat admiration for Brocadelli, he had resolved to have a “beautiful and large convent” built for her. He affirmed that he “desired 146

­Sister Theodor

that an excellent beginning should be given to this convent with ­t hese ­sisters” from Narni and Viterbo. 5 Duke Ercole, then, was personally involved in selecting the ­women who w ­ ere to join Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara, and he paid close attention to the identity of its novices. Hence, it is significant that one of the first w ­ omen who received the Dominican habit in this community, merely a few weeks before the duke wrote the previously mentioned letter, was none other than Caterina, the firstborn d ­ aughter of Salomone / Ercole. Caterina made her religious profession in a tertiaries’ h ­ ouse that was the crown jewel of Ercole d’Este’s display of princely devotion through cultural patronage, several months before the duke selected her younger ­sister Anna as one of Lucrezia Borgia’s damsels. An entry in the unpublished chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena rec­ords the clothing ceremony of “Caterina, the former Jew, d ­ aughter of 6 Master Ercole, the former Jew,” on August 5, 1501. The ceremony of donning the monastic habit, or vestition, was the first publicly performed ritual in the pro­cess of becoming a professed religious ­woman.7 According to the chronicle, Caterina underwent it at the age of twenty­t wo, and she received the monastic name ­Sister Theodora. 8 In July 1502, Ercole d’Este endowed her Dominican ­house.9 In the deed of gift recording his endowment of Santa Caterina da Siena, which the notary and humanist Bartolomeo Goggio (d. c. 1505) drew up, ­Sister Theodora was identified as “­d aughter of Master Ercole the goldsmith [Ercole orefice].”10 Master Ercole’s oldest child received “the habit of the choir s­ isters” (sorelle da officio), the third-­order equivalent of choir nuns.11 That is, she was accepted to the governing class of professed tertiaries, who ­were to devote their time to the refined spiritual pursuits of prayer and contemplation—in contrast with the girls who ­were unable to obtain the dowries required for becoming sorelle da officio and joined monastic communities as converse, or servant s­ isters. Quite a few of the tertiaries who entered Santa Caterina da Siena in 1500–1503, and whose parents ­were unable to provide substantial dowries for them, indeed received the habit of converse and ­were charged with performing the heavy menial ­labor in their community, having no voice in its government.12 ­These included ­Sister Caterina (1488–1533) and S ­ ister Marta (1483–1556), whose ­fathers ­were both cobblers; ­Sister Maria Caterina, ­daughter of

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the convent’s gardener (1493–1562); and three other w ­ omen whose ­fathers’ profession was not registered in the convent’s chronicle.13 Among the tertiaries who joined Santa Caterina da Siena as sorelle da officio in the first years of the Cinquecento w ­ ere the d ­ aughters of tailors, dyers, leather workers, and surgeons, but also of notaries. Some of the choir ­sisters ­were members of respectable families in Ferrara, such as the Calcagnini and the Sardi. Although before 1503 no choir ­sisters had been born to families from the highest echelons of Ferrarese society,14 they counted among their number the ­daughter of the stable master of Sigismondo d’Este, the duke’s ­brother.15 Caterina, whose ­father was employed as court goldsmith, certainly fit into the group of tertiaries that was made up of d ­ aughters of Ferrarese men who w ­ ere protected by the duke and his relatives, although they ­were not their most influential, high-­ status courtiers. Quite a few respectable but penurious families of tertiaries who entered Santa Caterina da Siena as choir s­ isters in 1500–1502 w ­ ere unable to come up with the required dowries, and Duke Ercole provided the financial assistance that enabled them to become sorelle da officio.16 One of the girls whose monastic profession was made pos­si­ble in this manner was Veronica, niece of the controversial preacher Girolamo Savonarola. Ercole d’Este was particularly devoted to the memory of the Ferrarese-­ born prophet who had been executed in Florence in 1498, and in January 1500 he agreed to supply the spiritual dowry for Savonarola’s niece, whose ­father could not afford its payment. Thus, Veronica Savonarola (1487–1553) became a choir ­sister in Santa Caterina da Siena and received the name ­Sister Girolama, in honor of her ­u ncle.17 In light of Ercole d’Este’s patronage of Master Ercole and of the latter’s financial woes, it is not surprising that S ­ ister Theodora was one of ­those tertiaries whose entrance into Santa Caterina da Siena was made pos­si­ble thanks to the duke’s financial assistance.18 The sum required for a spiritual dowry in the early Cinquecento was considerably lower than that needed for a marital dowry. Nonetheless, in Ferrara, as in other Italian cities and towns, it was still high enough to impede the admittance of girls from poor families as choir ­sisters.19 We have seen Salomone / Ercole da Sesso attempting to amass the money for dowering his firstborn ­daughter at least since she was ten years old. As early as 1489, a notarial document concerning his dispute with

­Sister Theodor

his brother-­in-­law Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio stipulated the allocation of fifty ducats that ­were to be reserved for the girl’s dowry.20 As discussed in chapter 13, notwithstanding the goldsmith’s ­later conversion to Chris­tian­ity and the professional success that he enjoyed as a jewelry and sword maker, the only one of his five d ­ aughters to ever get married was Anna, who obtained a marital dowry thanks to Lucrezia Borgia’s assistance.21 Tellingly, in the last archival document pertaining to Master Ercole to have come to light thus far, from 1521, his three youn­ gest ­daughters are still designated as nubile.22 The goldsmith’s ­d aughter Caterina was twenty-­t wo years old when she entered a monastic h ­ ouse. This was considered rather late in life to make this move, as girls from well-­off families joined convents in their midteens and sometimes even ­earlier.23 ­Women such as Caterina, who did so at a ­later age, usually came from families that had had trou­ble paying the required dowry. The first years of the sixteenth ­century saw quite a few w ­ omen in their twenties join tertiaries’ h ­ ouses, ­because t­ hose demanded a smaller spiritual dowry than second-­order convents. Moreover, monastic communities that w ­ ere headed by Savonarolan sympathizers such as Lucia Brocadelli ­were particularly disposed ­toward accepting such novices, even when their families w ­ ere of lesser means, and this was reflected in the mature complexion of newly founded Savonarolan religious h ­ ouses in the pre-­Tridentine era. 24 The financial precarity of Salomone / Ercole, then, constitutes the backdrop for his d ­ aughter’s profession in Santa Caterina da Siena, as it does for the monachization of other baptized Jewish girls in premodern Italy. Like their counter­parts who ­were born Christian, Jewish ­fathers who converted to Catholicism sought to capitalize on the option of sending their ­daughters to convents, thus reducing the dowries that they had to provide for them. As Silvia Evangelisti puts it, baptized Jews did not hesitate to “push their ­d aughters through the door of the convent, ­whether they w ­ ere willing or not, in order to gain relief from material difficulties and poverty.”25 This was especially true for neophytes who, like Master Ercole, ­were burdened with several ­daughters. Hence, ­later in the sixteenth c­ entury a Jew who was baptized in Rome asked for help in amassing a spiritual dowry for one of his six nubile d ­ aughters, none of whom he was capable of marrying off, so that she could become a nun.26

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At least since the mid-­fourteenth ­century, Italian ruling elites had manifested their civic piety by granting financial support to baptized Jewish girls who joined monastic ­houses.27 In 1473, merely six years before Caterina / ­Sister Theodora was born, communal authorities in her birth city of Bologna paid the monastic dowry that enabled a convert from Judaism named Gentile to enter the convent of San Lorenzo as ­Sister Angelica. 28 Magistrates in Volterra examined a similar request from Consola, d ­ aughter of the Jewish banker Bonaventura di Emanuele of Volterra, in 1507. Grand­d aughter of Emanuele of Volterra, who had been a business associate of Mele da Sessa, Consola expressed her intent on becoming a Clarissan nun in the convent of Santa Chiara in Volterra only six years a­ fter Mele da Sessa’s grand­child had received the religious habit in Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara, as S ­ ister Theodora. 29 ­A fter the outbreak of the Protestant Reformation, as the Church stepped up its campaign to convert the Jews, the Houses of Catechumens established in major Italian cities regularly helped female neophytes to procure the dowries required for becoming nuns.30 Before 1543, however, no institution was charged with directing baptized Jewish girls, such as Gentile, Caterina, or Consola, t­ oward the monastic vocation, or with helping them in obtaining the means to do so. They had to depend, instead, on the benevolence of local lay authorities. In Caterina’s case, the ac­cep­t ance into Santa Caterina da Siena—­ which was closely connected to the Duke of Ferrara’s par­tic­u ­lar investment in this community—­a lso reflected his conversionary policy, as his ongoing efforts to assist her baptized Jewish f­ ather reveal. Let us recall that Duke Ercole, who in 1491 had agreed to ­pardon Salomone da Sesso in return for his consent to baptism, knew only too well that the goldsmith had become a Catholic in order to evade a grave punishment, having been convicted of sodomy and other serious crimes. The duke’s stance on sodomy, it should be noted, became increasingly intolerant in the years following the goldsmith’s conversion. 31 In March 1496, one of his officials, Francesco di Conzari, was condemned “as an active and passive sodomite” and fined 500 ducats. Conzari’s alleged sexual partner, Alessandro Fanti, had fled, and his friend Antonio Francesco di Lardi, who had vouched for him, was then docked the same amount. Unable to come up with this massive sum, he threw himself into the Po River. 32 ­A fter Fanti’s escape, the duke redoubled his repression of sodomy. In

­Sister Theodor

April 1496, he ordered the public execution of two purported sodomites, and in September of that year another convicted sodomite was beheaded in Ferrara’s main piazza. In 1500, the eighty-­year-­old draper Giovanni Pochaterra was sentenced to burning for sodomy, although this penalty was eventually commuted to the confiscation of all his possessions. 33 This harsh attitude ­toward the prosecution of sodomy, which characterized the last years of Ercole d’Este reign, did not detract from his support of the condemned sodomite Salomone / Ercole. The duke not only knew of the goldsmith’s conviction but also must have been aware of Master Ercole’s per­sis­tent efforts—­which in 1495 led to his banishment from Mantua—to regain his honor by countering the accusations that had tarnished his reputation so badly back in 1491. Even if Master Ercole had skele­tons in his closet, though, inducing him to be baptized along with his entire f­ amily was still a laudable deed b ­ ecause it guaranteed the Catholic upbringing of his offspring. As we saw e­ arlier, ensuring that Jewish ­children and adolescents would be raised as Christians was a common argument in ­favor of pressuring their parents to convert.34 This concern for a convert’s progeny must have also underlay Duke Ercole’s interest in the fate of his namesake’s two ­d aughters, one of whom he committed to the care of his daughter-­in-­law, while the other he helped to place in a monastic ­house. ­There is no question that Ercole d’Este actively sought to increase the number of converts in his duchy. In the years following the baptism of Salomone / Ercole and his ­family, Duke Ercole continued to assist Jews in difficult situations who agreed to be baptized, and he particularly favored the conversion of Jewish parents together with their ­children. Hence, on Easter Sunday 1496, the duke attended the baptismal ceremony of a Jewish w ­ oman, together with her son. Moreover, a week l­ ater all the Jews in Ferrara ­were required to attend a conversionary sermon, which was followed by the baptism of another member of their faith. Duke Ercole himself came to the cathedral, to ensure the presence of his Jewish subjects at the sermon and to watch the cele­bration of yet another baptism of a local Jew. 35 Although the ecclesiastical hierarchy encouraged conversionary preaching throughout the fifteenth c­ entury, no pope before Gregory XIII (r. 1572–1585) went as far as compelling the Jews to attend such sermons, which was considered a violation of canon law. 36 Thus, in requiring

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Ferrara’s Jews to listen to a conversionary sermon in 1496—­just as in pardoning condemned Jewish felons in exchange for their baptism in 1481 and in 1491—­Ercole d’Este went further than con­temporary Church authorities in striving to facilitate Jewish conversions. And what better way to showcase the commendable, long-­term effects of the duke’s commitment to converting the obstinate Jews than the monachization of the ­daughter of a well-­known neophyte? A ­ fter all, a Jewish girl’s entrance into a convent following the conversion of her f­ amily had been construed as the “happy ending” for miracle stories involving Jewish sacrilege at least since the thirteenth c­ entury. 37 That Caterina took her habit in a tertiaries’ h ­ ouse that was headed by Ercole d’Este’s Savonarolan court prophetess further served to bolster the duke’s reputation for piety. Savonarola, who had profoundly influenced both Duke Ercole and Lucia Brocadelli,38 openly encouraged the profession of converts from Judaism in reformed religious institutions. The Dominican preacher regarded the conversion of the Jews as a condition for the renovation of Christendom, and while he held sway over Florence, several baptized Jews, both male and female, entered monastic communities headed by Savonarolan sympathizers. 39 In 1497, a Jewish girl who converted to Chris­t ian­ity made her profession at the Benedictine ­house of Le Murate,40 a Florentine convent in which Savonarola enjoyed a devoted following.41 Lucia Brocadelli, who had close ties with some of Savonarola’s male followers,42 must have been aware of the friar’s support of the monachization of baptized Jews and was apparently happy to welcome an ex-­Jewess into her community. The vestition of Caterina, the baptized Jew, was scheduled to take place on the very day in which Brocadelli, whose fame as an internationally acclaimed holy w ­ oman was then at its peak,43 entered the new edifice that Ercole d’Est had built for her tertiaries’ community. Santa Caterina da Siena formed part of the Addizione Erculea (Herculean Addition), a proj­ect of urban development carried out by celebrated architect Biagio Rossetti (c. 1447–1516), which doubled the space of Re­nais­ sance Ferrara. The duke employed numerous builders, glassmakers, and wood-­carvers for constructing and decorating Santa Caterina da Siena.44 Lucia Brocadelli’s transfer from her temporary residence to the recently completed convent was carefully planned by Ercole d’Este, who

­Sister Theodor

was known for his taste for theatrical display.45 As noted e­ arlier, during his reign impor­tant ceremonies of religious significance in Ferrara, such as the baptism of high-­profile Jews, often opened with elaborate pro­ cessions. This is also how the cele­bration of Brocadelli’s entrance into the new edifice of Santa Caterina da Siena began on August 5, 1501. The solemn event was scheduled for the day of St. Dominic, one of the impor­t ant feast days in Re­nais­sance Ferrara. On that day, S ­ ister Lucia, “who [wa]s said to be a saint,” was accompanied “by a g­ rand pro­ cession” that was subsequently described in three con­temporary Ferrarese chronicles, as well as in the chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena. According to t­ hese sources, the pro­cession was composed of Brocadelli, “the young w ­ oman who bears the stigmata of Christ on her hands,” and sixteen of her fellow tertiaries and five prospective novices, as well as Duke Ercole, members of his court, and the Observant Dominican friars of Santa Maria degli Angeli, “all holding lit candles in their hands.” 46 As the religious w ­ omen reached their new h ­ ouse, the duke handed Brocadelli the keys, a symbol of her authority as prioress.47 Then the drama reached its climax in the clothing ceremony that was celebrated, for the first time, in the newly constructed building and in which the neophyte Caterina received the habit of a Dominican tertiary. Caterina was escorted to the tertiaries’ h ­ ouse in a pro­cession that echoed strikingly the one in which her f­ather and her ­brother Graziadio / Alfonso had been brought to the baptismal font precisely a de­ cade ­earlier. Just as Duchess Eleonora and her courtiers had led the pro­ cession to Ferrara’s cathedral, so Duke Ercole and members of his court now accompanied Brocadelli and her fellow tertiaries to their new convent. The 1491 pro­cession reached the entrance to the cathedral, where the bishop of Ferrara exorcized the catechumens, and the 1501 pro­ cession ­stopped at the doors of the church of Santa Caterina da Siena, where Duke Ercole gave Brocadelli the keys. The two pro­cessions culminated in sacred ceremonies performed ­behind church doors—­a baptismal rite in the first and a monastic vestition in the second. Both ceremonies marked a conversio: the baptism of three Jews entailed a radical one of transition from one faith community to another, whereas the five Christians’ entrance into a monastic institution involved the intensification of faith in the pursuit of spiritual perfection.48 Moreover, names w ­ ere changed in the conversions, a feature aimed at detaching t­ hose who

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underwent them from their previous selves and their old networks of filiation.49 As the recipient of the habit of a Dominican tertiary from the hands of Duke Ercole’s saintly court prophetess, Caterina was awarded an active role in a meticulously staged per­for­mance, one that both mirrored and complemented the cele­bration of her f­ ather’s baptism in Ferrara’s cathedral a de­cade ­earlier. The conversion ceremony of 1491 did differ from the vestition cele­bration that took place in 1501 in one impor­t ant re­ spect, namely, public address. Salomone / Ercole was expected to speak publicly, and he used this opportunity to slander the Jews who had implicated him in despicable crimes; his ­daughter, by contrast, was barred from any sort of public speaking. Thus, the voice of Salomone / Ercole can be heard in the accounts of his baptism, albeit in a heavi­ly mediated form, but, strain our ears as we might, the voice of Caterina / ­Sister Theodora remains resolutely mute. It was only through the per­for­mance of prescribed gestures that she participated in the ceremony, which epitomized the transformation of a former Jewess into a bride of Christ, thereby signaling the ultimate success of the Este rulers’ conversionary policy. The four other postulants who underwent the rite of vestition together with ­Sister Theodora, namely, ­Sister Stefana, ­Sister Beatrice, ­Sister Agnese, and S ­ ister Anna, w ­ ere also admitted as choir s­ isters and not as converse. The chronicler of Santa Caterina da Siena, the Dominican friar Benedetto of Mantua, did not provide par­tic­u­lar biographical information about the first three but did remark that ­Sister Anna, previously called Gentilina, was Lucia Brocadelli’s ­mother. Gentilina had arrived in Ferrara with Lucia in 1499 and two years l­ ater received the tertiaries’ habit from her d ­ aughter’s hands. As for Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, Fra Benedetto made it a point to note not only that she was the d ­ aughter of the baptized Jew Master Ercole, but that she was a former Jewess herself. Hence, Caterina’s Jewish origins as well as her f­ ather’s dubious past w ­ ere very much on the minds of the spectators at her vestition ceremony, including Fra Benedetto and his fellow Dominicans. 50 As for Duke Ercole d’Este, who sponsored her monachization, in an open letter that he wrote on March 4, 1500, he referred to Brocadelli’s vis­ i­ble stigmata as a divine miracle aimed at removing the disbelief of the impious and t­ hose “hard of heart” (indurati cordis), a term that alluded to the Jews. 51 Caterina’s reception of the religious habit from Brocadelli’s

­Sister Theodor

very hands in the following year was clearly crafted to juxtapose the saintly stigmatic—­who bore on her body the signs of Christ’s Passion that the hard-­hearted Jews refused to acknowledge as valid 52—­a nd the Jewish convert to Catholicism. Not only the duke, the Dominican friars, and the lay dignitaries who accompanied the tertiaries to their new edifice but also Caterina’s formerly Jewish parents and siblings witnessed this dramatic enactment of Chris­t ian­ity’s triumph over Judaism. 53 In Re­nais­sance Italy, monastic vestition was a most significant event for female postulants and their relatives alike.54 While the chronicle that rec­ords Caterina’s vestition reveals that her apostasy from Judaism and her ­father’s Jewish past both set her apart from other novices who received the monastic habit in the same ceremony, it is s­ ilent concerning the responses of the postulant and her f­ amily members to the Catholic rite. ­Because the latter did not leave ­behind a diary or even a letter, we can only speculate about how each one of them may have felt during the highly charged ceremony, which represented Caterina’s spiritual marriage to Jesus. 55 The novice’s ­father may have regarded the rite as a sign of his ­family’s successful assimilation into Christian society, thanks to his own professional accomplishments and to the backing of his power­ful ducal patron. Long estranged from his erstwhile coreligionists, whom he held responsible for his incarceration, Master Ercole may have felt a sense of satisfaction, or even outright pride, at the sight of his d ­ aughter’s vestition at a monastic ­house established by the duke. Caterina’s siblings Alfonso, Ferrante, and Anna had all been baptized as ­children and could thus partake in their ­father’s plea­sure at their ­sister’s receiving the religious habit from the hands of the duke’s renowned protégé. One member of the ­family, however, likely had mixed feelings when seeing her ­daughter entering the cloister, which she was not expected to leave ever again.56 For Caterina’s ­mother, Eleonora, who had only acceded to baptism in order not to lose custody of her minor ­children when her husband converted, watching her firstborn undertake a life of celibacy in a Dominican tertiaries’ h ­ ouse might not have been an unmitigated plea­ sure. ­A fter her own baptism in 1491, Eleonora lived a life that was not altogether dif­fer­ent from the one she had led prior to her apostasy. Christian or Jew, Eleonora went on toiling in the ­house­hold, assisting her husband in his workshop, and raising their ­children. Caterina was now

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taking on a wholly alien lifestyle, one that centered on Catholic worship ­behind convent walls that secluded her from both secular society and her ­family. As her ­d aughter assumed the role of a bride of Christ and committed herself to lifelong chastity in an enclosed female community, Eleonora might well have felt ambivalent—to say the least. In keeping with prevailing practice, chronicler Benedetto of Mantua did not describe Caterina’s be­hav­ior during her vestition ceremony. Like the vast majority of postulants in early modern Italy, her response to the event went completely unrecorded.57 We are left to imagine her feelings at this momentous occasion. It is worth keeping in mind that, like her ­mother, Caterina had not converted of her own initiative. At the time of her ­father’s baptism in 1491, she was twelve years old and thus had to express her consent to be baptized. As we saw e­ arlier, she did not hasten to follow her f­ ather’s lead but underwent baptism only a­ fter every­one ­else in her ­family had done so—­consequently receiving a baptismal name that did not link her to a member of the reigning House of Este. Ten years ­a fter her baptism, Caterina might have become accustomed to Catholicism, though the lack of any mention of her religious zeal, ­either before or ­a fter she joined Santa Caterina da Siena, suggests that she was not a particularly devout convert. 58 Still, when the possibility arose for the twenty-­two-­year-­old maiden to enter a monastic ­house, Caterina prob­ably did not consider it an entirely bleak option. By that time, she surely knew that her f­ ather would not be able to arrange for a proper marriage for her and understood the advantages of securing a safe and respectable living arrangement. 59 The promise of a fine vestition ceremony, attended by the duke and his courtiers, celebrated on an impor­t ant feast day, and preceded by a ­grand pro­cession, may have helped Caterina acclimate to the idea of entering a monastic institution.60 Like other girls for whom monachization was understood as a practical, if not particularly desired, solution, Caterina may have felt excited to dress in special garments that had been prepared for the festive occasion. As she underwent a solemn rite in the presence of local dignitaries, whose social standing was considerably higher than that of her own f­ amily, she may have even looked forward to life in a brand-­new convent on which Ercole d’Este had bestowed lavish gifts, as a member of a community that was headed by the duke’s renowned court prophetess.

­Sister Theodor

The convent chronicle is ­silent concerning the se­lection of the name ­Sister Theodora for Caterina. The change of name, which symbolized the transformation of an entrant’s status and personal identity, held crucial importance for girls and ­women who joined monastic ­houses in Re­nais­ sance Italy. Names w ­ ere not chosen by the novices themselves but w ­ ere assigned by the community’s chapter, though the preference of a postulant or her ­family sometimes influenced the choice.61 In some cases, for instance, in assigning the name S ­ ister Girolama to Girolamo Savonarola’s niece, the reasons for picking a par­tic­u­lar name ­were rather obvious.62 In ­Sister Theodora’s case, however, the motivation is not clear. The name did not pay homage to the neophyte’s secular life, b ­ ecause it alluded neither to her baptismal name nor to the names of her relatives, who w ­ ere christened in honor of members of the ducal ­family. Moreover, it had nothing to do with St. Dominic, on whose feast day her vestition ceremony was held.63 Honoring the fourth-­century virgin and martyr Theodora, the convert’s monastic name did align with one of the most prominent con­temporary trends in ­women’s religious communities, that of selecting patrons drawn from a pool of early Christian saints. 64 Like other early female saints, St. Theodora was also the protagonist of plays that w ­ ere performed in nunneries, b ­ ecause she had died for her faith and also in order to protect her virginity, which, like professed religious ­women, she had preserved for God. 65 When, in May 1502, the ten-­year-­old Domenica Melegini entered Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara, she too was assigned the name S ­ ister Theodora.66 The duplication of names followed the remarkable expansion of female monasticism in the fifteenth ­century.67 In Santa Caterina da Siena, the phenomenon was particularly marked ­because many of its members had originally made their profession in other religious h ­ ouses.68 Melegini, however, did not transfer to Santa Caterina da Siena from another institution but actually received her spiritual name from the same chapter that had assigned it to Caterina / ­Sister Theodora just about a year ­earlier. This suggests a par­t ic­u ­lar preference for this name on the part of the community’s prioress, Brocadelli, and of the other choir ­sisters who had joined Santa Caterina da Siena during the earliest phase of its existence. In the convent’s chronicle, Fra Bendetto noted that ­Sister Theodora, the former Jew, professed her solemn vows on August 7, 1502—­a year ­after

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she had entered Santa Caterina da Siena. Two of the choir ­sisters who had received the habit in the same vestition ceremony with her also professed their vows in this ceremony. 69 Monastic profession rendered religious ­women legally “dead to the world,” and the date on which they professed their vows determined the se­niority of choir ­sisters in their community’s chapter. Like vestitions, Italian profession ceremonies w ­ ere festive occa70 sions to which the girls’ relatives w ­ ere invited. Nonetheless, S ­ ister Theodora’s profession ceremony, in contrast with her vestition, was not celebrated on a particularly memorable day, nor was it deemed worthy of mention by Ferrarese diarists. Shortly ­a fter ­Sister Theodora’s profession, on September 13, 1502, Duke Ercole came to Santa Caterina da Siena and formally presented the tertiaries with a precious relic: a piece of the fin­ger of the Dominican saint Peter Martyr (c. 1200–1252), h ­ oused in an exquisite gilt silver tabernacle. This was not one of the reliquary tabernacles that Master Ercole had produced for his ducal patron at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but rather the work of a Milanese goldsmith. Nonetheless, the duke also donated other ceremonial silver vessels to the tertiaries’ community, including a beautifully adorned chalice with an accompanying paten, both of which had belonged to Duchess Eleonora of Aragon.71 The chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena does not specify the names of the artists who forged ­these objects, which, alongside textiles, had the least chance of survival into modern times of all the artworks displayed in Italian convents.72 In any case, since Master Ercole had been employed as court goldsmith first by Duchess Eleonora and subsequently by Duke Ercole, for whom he created liturgical wares, it is plausible that some of the silver works in ­Sister Theodora’s convent ­were, in fact, the product of her ­father’s workshop, their presence perhaps a reminder of her ­earlier years. Life in Santa Caterina da Siena underwent a profound transformation following the death of its devoted ducal patron, Ercole d’Este, in January 1505. In just a few months and against her explicit wishes, Lucia Brocadelli’s adversaries succeeded in turning the enclosed tertiaries’ community into a full-­fledged Dominican convent of the second order. Brocadelli herself was accused of feigning sanctity and was barred from fulfilling any authoritative position within the convent.73 Some Ferrarese courtiers, led by Girolamo Ziliolo, insisted on honoring the vision

­Sister Theodor

that Duke Ercole had had for the tertiaries’ community, but their efforts to prevent t­ hese steps ­were to no avail.74 We have no way to ascertain how Master Ercole regarded t­hese changes. If he shared Ziliolo’s resentment about them, though, the baptized Jew would have known better than to express his views. The feelings of Caterina / ­Sister Theodora about being forced to become a second-­ order nun also remain undocumented. Unlike several members who had joined Santa Caterina da Siena during the first years of its existence, however, Master Ercole’s ­daughter did not attempt to leave the community when it was transformed into a full-­fledged convent.75 As recorded in the convent chronicle, ­Sister Theodora received the black veil of a Dominican nun from the hands of the master general of the Dominican order, Vincenzo Bandelli (or Bandello) di Castelnuovo (1435–1506) on June 8, 1505.76 Bandelli came to Ferrara on his way back from the Chapter General of the Dominican order in Milan in order to preside over the tertiaries’ renewed profession as nuns, ­because of the widespread opposition to this step within their institution.77 ­A fter the tertiaries’ renewed profession, their superiors de­c ided to eliminate all duplications in monastic names within the convent.78 Of the two nuns named S ­ ister Theodora, the name change fell on S ­ ister The79 odora Melegini. Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter had made her profession shortly before Melegini did, and was thus her se­n ior in the convent’s chapter. 80 That ­Sister Theodora Melegini rather than ­Sister Theodora, the former Jew, was assigned a new name, however, was prob­ably also related to the privileged status that the latter’s ­father continued to enjoy ­a fter Duke Ercole’s death, as the favorite goldsmith of Duchess Lucrezia Borgia, 81 who in the first months of 1506 helped him marry off his younger d ­ aughter Anna. Duchess Lucrezia supported the transformation of Santa Caterina da Siena into a second-­order convent, and in 1506, the vicar general of the Dominican Congregation of Lombardy granted her permission to regularly enter this institution, as the only exception to the complete monastic enclosure (clausura) that its members w ­ ere now required to ob82 serve. As an impor­tant patron of Santa Caterina da Siena, the duchess would have been well positioned to make requests of the community. 83 Thus, Lucrezia could easily have ensured that the name of her goldsmith’s ­daughter—­which had already been changed in 1491 upon her

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baptism, and was then changed anew at the time of her vestition in 1501, would not be altered for a third time. Nuns’ standing within their communities in Re­nais­sance Italy was closely related to their families’ status in secular society, and Master Ercole’s position as a goldsmith working for Ferrara’s duchess undoubtedly helped to protect his ­daughter’s interests. 84 ­Sister Theodora Melegini, whose ­father had drowned himself back in 1496,85 could not count on such a network of support beyond her convent’s walls. A handwritten note in the margin of the page recording the vestition and profession of Caterina / ­Sister Theodora affirms that she died on the last day of  June 1506.86 At the time of her death, S ­ ister Theodora was only twenty-­seven years old. The note recording her death does not specify its cause, even though twenty-­seven was an atypically young age for the demise of a nun in an enclosed convent, which provided some protection from the ravages of epidemic diseases and was, of course, also supposed to eliminate the most significant health ­hazards faced by nonreligious ­women in their twenties, namely, ­those related to pregnancy and childbirth. 87 Most of the w ­ omen who had entered Santa Caterina da Siena around the time of ­Sister Theodora’s monachization indeed remained in this community for several de­cades, and lived well into their fifties or even their sixties.88 Interestingly, though, ­Sister Beatrice—­who had been ­Sister Theodora’s companion in both vestition and profession—­passed away when she was only eigh­teen years old, four years ­after entering Santa Caterina da Siena. According to the notes found in the margins of the convent chronicle, ­Sister Beatrice had been the first member of Santa Caterina da Siena to die, on November 26, 1505, and ­Sister Theodora was the second to pass away, seven months l­ ater. 89 From August 1501 through June 1506, S ­ ister Theodora’s life in Santa Caterina da Siena is lost to us. Perhaps she succeeded in fashioning a tolerable, or even fulfilling, life for herself as a religious ­woman—­like so many other w ­ omen who had taken the veil in response to socioeconomic and familial constraints.90 It is worth noting, in this re­spect, that not only Lucia Brocadelli but also some of the s­ isters who had joined Santa Caterina da Siena around the time of ­Sister Theodora’s entrance evidently valued the monachization of former Jews.

­Sister Theodor

The convent’s chronicle indicates that during the 1530s and 1540s, three nuns of Jewish origins received the religious habit in the Dominican institution: S ­ ister Caterina Maria (1517–1563) in 1532, S ­ ister Renata Margherita (1525–1546) in 1541, and ­Sister Domicilla (1531–1598) in 1542.91 Their ac­cep­tance into Santa Caterina da Siena occurred during a period of transition for the ­house, when ­Sister Girolama Savonarola, and l­ ater Brocadelli’s other devotees, headed it.92 The listing of four nuns of Jewish origins in the chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena attests to the diversity that characterized this community during the first half of the Cinquecento. Other nunneries inspired by Savonarola’s teaching, such as the convent of Le Murate in Florence, similarly ­adopted an inclusive ac­ cep­tance policy regarding baptized Jews, which was certainly not typical of monastic institutions in the Italian Peninsula.93 ­Sister Caterina Maria, ­Sister Renata Margherita, and ­Sister Domicilla entered Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara while the pro­cess of rehabilitating Brocadelli’s saintly reputation was well u ­ nder way.94 The se­ nior nuns in the convent’s chapter, who filled key positions in the community in ­those years, ­were Brocadelli’s devout supporters, and some of them—­notably Fra Girolamo’s niece—­had unmistakable Savonarolan inclinations. By welcoming within their ranks girls who had been born and raised in Jewish families, t­ hese ­sisters not only expressed their adherence to Savonarola’s ideology but also followed a pre­ce­dent set forth by Brocadelli, who had presided over the vestition and profession of Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter. In light of their ­later documented attitude, it seems more than plausible that already during their first years in Santa Caterina da Siena, Brocadelli’s followers had made a special effort to help the neophyte S ­ ister Theodora adjust to life in an enclosed religious community.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The ­Family Workshop Master Ercole and His Sons

A 

his eldest ­daughter’s monachization, Master Ercole was busier than ever. His main patron, Duke Ercole d’Este, continued to commission large-­scale religious works from him. By November 8, 1501, the goldsmith consigned one of the silver tabernacles that he had gilded, enameled, and incised to his ducal patron and went on to produce an exquisite silver box for the duke.1 A year l­ ater, Simone Serafino of Milan, the official in charge of timber supply, provided Master Ercole with thirty-­seven half beams (travi).2 Ferrarese officials normally gave such beams to carpenters, who used them for scaffolding or temporary constructions, and not to goldsmiths. Master Ercole must have gotten them as a payment in kind. 3 Salaried employees at the ducal court regularly received such remuneration, which constituted a substantial part of their payment and could double, or even ­triple, the value of their monetary stipend.4 On May  5, 1503, the Office of Munitions and Construction ­(Munizioni e fabbriche), which coordinated the operation of the workshops and building activities in Ferrara, ordered a payment to be made to Simone Serafino for the beams that had been given to “Ercole T THE TIME OF

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the goldsmith, the former Jew.”5 That the master goldsmith was designated in official rec­ords of the Ferrarese administration as a former Jew, more than a de­cade a­ fter his baptism, reveals the difficulties standing in the way of an adult convert’s total assimilation into Christian society. This identification made sense, for example, in the chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena: ­t here, it was aimed at amplifying the celebratory tone of the entry recording the monachization of his baptized Jewish ­daughter. For the registers of the ducal trea­sury, however, no such account can be offered. Rather, the mention of his Jewish background in documents of a financial nature shows that neither his work on relic tabernacles nor his ­daughter’s dedication of her life to Jesus could place the goldsmith on an equal footing with Old Christians. At the same time, vari­ous members of the extended Este ­family clearly continued to value his artistic talent, and the goldsmith evidently took on a greater workload than he was capable of managing.6 In January  1504, Isabella d’Este ordered cuff bracelets (maniglie) from him, and he kept her waiting for more than a year and a half before completing them.7 Many artists agreed to produce more than they could expect to complete within a given period, resulting in missed deadlines and bad feelings between artists and patrons.8 Still, the wealth of documentation preserved at the Gonzaga archive in Mantua enables us to reconstruct the protracted production of ­these maniglie, which ­were eventually hailed as an outstanding piece, executed in extraordinary detail. As the ­daughter of Ercole d’Este and Eleonora of Aragon, two sophisticated patrons of the arts, Isabella d’Este had developed a fastidious artistic eye at an early age and was e­ ager to create an image of a capable po­l iti­cal ruler through artistic patronage. Her lack of personal funds, however, ­limited her ability to engage in proj­ects that broadcast the architectural virtue of magnificence. Isabella therefore sought to enhance her prestige through the display of wealth, moral probity, and artistic connoisseurship by means of fash­ion­able jewelry.9 She was famous for enhancing the intricate meaning of her opulent accessories by favoring innovative designs, and jewelry played an impor­tant role in her efforts to fortify her co-­r ule with Francesco Gonzaga in a way that would benefit their dynasty.10 At a time when physical beauty was regarded as the outward manifestation of virtue, the light radiating from the bodies of Italian princes

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Fig.  11. ​Portrait of Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua, by Titian (Tiziano Vercellio). 1536. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Wien. Photo: KHM-­Museumsverband. Reproduced with permission.



T he ­F amily W orkshop

and their consorts served to convey messages about sovereignty and social status. The most expensive glittering attributes of noble status ­were ­t hose worn by aristocratic men, namely, heavy gold chains, of the type that Salomone / Ercole had forged for Francesco Gonzaga back in 1491, and brilliant armor and arms like the swords that he made for Ercole d’Este and Cesare Borgia a­ fter his baptism.11 Nonetheless, smaller and less costly pieces of resplendent jewelry, such as bracelets, also came to assume an unparalleled significance in the self-­presentation of upper-­ class w ­ omen, such as Isabella d’Este. ­After her marriage and relocation to Mantua, Isabella visited Ferrara on a regular basis and maintained close contact with Ferrarese courtiers, who assisted her in purchasing items produced by artists and craftsmen in her hometown. Although this was not a professional arrangement and Isabella’s intermediaries never charged any commission for their work, it was thanks to their efforts that she was able to order luxury commodities at long distance. This was a complex pro­cess that involved an exchange of missives, including drawings, aimed at ensuring the patron’s ultimate satisfaction.12 Girolamo Ziliolo, who acted as one of Isabella’s main agents in Ferrara, was charged with negotiating the commissioning of bracelets from Master Ercole and with providing him with the gold for forging them. On May 18, 1504, Ziliolo informed Isabella that according to the goldsmith, the sum she had agreed to pay for the maniglie would not suffice for producing a work that would be worthy of her honor.13 The allusion to Isabella’s reputation in this context was certainly to the point, ­because the marchioness made no secret of her desire for objects of unsurpassed quality.14 Accustomed to his patron’s high standards, Ziliolo agreed to pay the additional sum on her behalf. The Ferrarese courtier, who back in 1494 had procured a gilded book cover for Isabella from Master Ercole, was l­ ater involved in overseeing the decoration of the tertiaries’ ­house that his d ­ aughter ­Sister Theodora joined. Ziliolo was also familiar with the goldsmith’s younger d ­ aughter Anna ­because one of his own relatives, commonly known as “La Ziliola,” numbered among Lucrezia Borgia’s damsels.15 By the time he negotiated the production of the maniglie with the renowned goldsmith, in 1504, Ziliolo was well acquainted with Salomone / Ercole, and he observed that the artist was known for being slow in consigning his works. On May 27,

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Ziliolo promised to see to the swift completion of the bracelets, but on June 15 he informed Isabella that Master Ercole was busy with commissions that he had received from her b ­ rother, Cardinal Ippolito d’Este (1479–1520).16 Despite his clerical status, Cardinal Ippolito, one of the wealthiest prelates in the Italian Peninsula, took a par­t ic­u ­lar interest in arms and armor and was known for his involvement in military affairs during the Italian Wars.17 In 1499, his ­father reproached him for having commissioned specially made swords for his personal use.18 Thus, the cardinal’s admiration for the pieces forged by Master Ercole, the celebrated maker of Cesare Borgia’s “Queen of Swords,” comes as no surprise.19 In his dispatch of June 15, Ziliolo suggested that Master Ercole be given an ultimatum of ten days, and if he failed to meet this deadline, Isabella should have her ­father order his arrest. Ziliolo apologized for his failure to expedite the completion of the maniglie, explaining that this was due to the fact that he had “to deal with a man who never tells the truth.”20 This description brings to mind the view that Isabella’s consort had expressed almost a de­cade ­earlier, when ordering Master Ercole’s banishment from his domain ­because of his supposedly mendacious allegations about the Jews of Mantua. On July 8, the anxious marchioness turned directly to her ­brother Ippolito. Four months had already passed since Master Ercole had agreed to make the bracelets for her, she complained, yet it was not clear w ­ hether 21 he had even begun the work. Isabella expressed her confidence that her ­brother would understand what it meant to desire this kind of ­thing; a typical Re­nais­sance prelate who valued the gifted goldsmith’s talent, Ippolito unquestionably did.22 The marchesa requested that the cardinal approach Master Ercole in person and make plain to him that the maniglie ­were to be completed immediately. She added: “if I do not wear them now, when it is summertime and the arms are bare, I ­will not care much for them l­ ater.”23 Re­nais­sance fashion came into its own during the months of winter, when layered garments, heavy beading, and ­belts ­were donned. The summer, on the other hand, provided few possibilities for embellishments that would not cause considerable discomfort in the hot sun.24 Delicate bracelets displayed on an aristocratic ­woman’s bare arms provided one such rare opportunity, and Isabella therefore invested consid-



T he ­F amily W orkshop

erable effort in obtaining maniglie that would ensure the most dazzling effect. Hailed since 1494 as the “First Lady of the World,” Isabella was admired by upper-­class ladies throughout Eu­rope as an unsurpassed source of information about the latest vogue, and she was always on the lookout for fine accessories, textiles, and jewelry.25 As Evelyn Welch has argued, Isabella’s eagerness to fashion and maintain a reputation as an innovator in hair and body ornamentation “brought clear po­liti­cal benefits at a time of considerable unsettled military and geographic maneuvering” during the Italian Wars.26 What the marchesa wished to display on her naked arms was nothing less than maniglie handcrafted by an artistic genius. Cardinal Ippolito did as requested and reported back to his s­ ister, who on July 13 urged him to keep on pressing the goldsmith. 27 By August  22, Salomone / Ercole had begun working on the maniglie, and when the piece was shown to Ziliolo, he described it as the most gallant and worthy of its kind that he had ever seen, although still far from completion. Ziliolo added that he had reproached Master Ercole in the presence of Lucrezia Borgia for taking so long to finish the work.28 ­Daughter of Alexander VI, the so-­called pope of gems, Lucrezia, like Isabella d’Este, had discriminating taste in precious metals and stones.29 ­W hether or not the goldsmith Al(f )onso, who accompanied her on her trip from Rome to care for her jewelry was indeed Master Ercole’s older son, shortly ­a fter settling in Ferrara she began commissioning pieces from the maker of her b ­ rother Cesare’s “Queen of Swords.” Yet, while Lucrezia shared her sister-­in-­law’s esteem for Salomone / Ercole’s virtuosity, the frosty relationship between the two ­women ­stopped Isabella from approaching her directly. The Marchioness of Mantua’s rapport with her ­brother’s second wife was marked by a rivalry not only with re­spect to artistic, musical, and literary patronage but also in clothing style and luxury accessories. 30 ­Daughter of the Duke of Ferrara and grand­daughter of the king of Naples, Isabella scorned Lucrezia, the bastard descendant of minor Spanish aristocracy. 31 ­Because the Marchioness of Mantua did not wish to confide in Lucrezia herself, she had Ziliolo, who was held in high esteem by both w ­ omen, discuss Master Ercole’s delay with her sister-­i n-­law. 32 Ziliolo told Lucrezia that by not devoting himself to the maniglie, Master Ercole was in fact showing disrespect ­toward the ruling House of

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Este, of which Isabella was a d ­ aughter. Hence, the goldsmith deserved to be “imprisoned at the bottom of a tower,” namely, in one of the prisons located at the damp bases of three of the four towers of Ferrara’s Castel Vecchio: the Torre Marchesana, Torre San Michele, and Torre San Polo.33 However, Ziliolo did inform Isabella that the delay was not entirely in Master Ercole’s hands, as his other patrons ­were demanding that he split his time between the bracelets and their commissions. The artist had assured Ziliolo that he would finish the maniglie within twenty days, and on August 28 the Ferrarese courtier sent another correspondence to Isabella, remarking that he was pressing Master Ercole as best he could. 34 Yet the twenty-­d ay deadline went by, and the goldsmith was still not ready to deliver the bracelets. By September 22, Ziliolo was poised to have him arrested, when the rare beauty of the yet-­to-­be-­fi nished maniglie convinced him to desist from ­doing so. ­A fter visiting Master Ercole’s workshop, Ziliolo reported back to Isabella: As for Your Ladyship’s maniglie, by now I am embarrassed to write anything more about it, ­because I am not lacking shameful blushings that I am having ­because of this wicked liar [questo tristo busardo]. Nonetheless, in order for You to have news of where ­things stand I am letting You know how I went to find Ercole at his home in person, b ­ ecause when I sent for him he did not show up, and I went t­ here with the goal of having him brought to prison. . . . ​A nd having come ­t here without prior notice, I found him very busy with works for the Duchess [Lucrezia Borgia]35 and for the Most Revered Cardinal [Ippolito d’Este], and although I said angry enough and menacing words to him, with ­g reat fury, I still understood the real reason for his tardiness . . . ​[so] I somewhat mitigated my anger. And having seen what stage the aforementioned maniglie ­were in, that is that they ­were almost finished, and having also considered their elegance, I resigned myself, and once again wanted a definite promise from him [as to] when he would have to give me the completed ones. This promise could not be before the end of next month.



T he ­F amily W orkshop

Even though this delay has seemed to me arduous . . . ​in light of the unique quality [singularità] of the work, I did not deem it in any way appropriate to take it out of his hand, but rather to exhort Your Excellency to have patience. 36

The letter brims over with feeling: embarrassment and shame, fury and anger. ­These ­were perceived as legitimate responses to the sometimes maddening pro­cess of procuring a work of art in the early sixteenth ­century. The designation of the producer of the maniglie in this missive solely as “Ercole”—­without the honorific appellation “Master”—­may, perhaps, further disclose Ziliolo’s exasperation with the tardy goldsmith. Reflecting the power imbalance in the sources, however, it is mainly the apprehension of Isabella’s agent that we read of in the Gonzaga archive; our protagonist, the overworked artist to whom Ziliolo’s threats ­were directed, remains rather dumb. Only Salomone / Ercole’s actions are recorded, from his initial attempts to avoid confrontation with Isabella’s envoy by ignoring his summons to his ­later efforts to appease Ziliolo’s wrath by impressing him with the beauty of the piece he was producing. Based on this documentation and considering Master Ercole’s experience with Ferrara’s prison, we might surmise that he was rather terrified of the power­f ul, menacing courtier. Ziliolo himself conceded that Salomone / Ercole was working feverishly to balance the demands placed upon him by his vari­ous aristocratic patrons. The goldsmith’s excuses ­were well-­founded, Ziliolo affirmed, and he thus held off from throwing him in prison. Notwithstanding this view and despite the exquisiteness of the maniglie, which was already evident in their unfinished state, Ziliolo reiterated his opinion, which he had expressed on June 15, that the acclaimed artist was a hopeless liar.37 Ziliolo’s dispatch prudently hinted at Lucrezia Borgia’s role in keeping Master Ercole from working on the bracelets. As Isabella’s correspondent well knew, upon settling in Ferrara Lucrezia hired several of the marchesa’s former employees, thereby fueling the latter’s resentment. 38 A ­ fter receiving his report, Isabella realized that as a protégé of her el­derly ­father, Duke Ercole—­who was naturally reluctant to see his prized convert thrown into jail b ­ ecause of a delay in consigning a piece of jewelry—­Ziliolo’s ability to speed up the delivery was ­limited. 39 She

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therefore turned to Girolamo Magnanino, a close confidant of her ­brother Alfonso, in the hope that he would intervene in the affair in a more drastic manner.40 Magnanino, who in 1491 authored one of the reports recounting Salomone da Sesso’s baptism, had known the goldsmith for more than a de­cade.41 Like Ziliolo, he was aware of Master Ercole’s dubious past and also of the high regard with which members of the Ferrarese court held his artistic ability. Magnanino informed the marchioness that the master and his eldest son, Alfonso, had been sick for about twelve days, but that they had both resumed the work on her maniglie as soon as they ­were physically able to do so.42 Magnanino’s message reveals that by 1504 Alfonso—­whose fate had been tied to that of his ­father ever since the two of them had been baptized together—­was already working alongside Master Ercole as a qualified goldsmith. Alfonso evidently became ill at the same time as his ­father and remained confined to the bed for the same number of days. The subsequent mentions of Master Ercole’s recurrent maladies in the correspondence of Isabella’s envoys suggest that occupational ­hazards may have led to the health prob­lems that plagued both him and his son already in the fall of 1504.43 Medical authorities in Re­nais­sance Eu­rope ­were well aware of the negative effect that goldsmiths’ working conditions could have on their physical well-­being. In the late fifteenth c­ entury, the German physician Ulrich Ellenbog (1440–1499) even wrote a memorandum signaling the fumes in the workshops of metalworkers as the source of their trou­bles. Ellenbog, whose patients apparently included goldsmiths, advised the prac­ti­tion­ers of metallurgical arts to keep their win­dows open and to cover their mouths with a cloth, in order to minimize their exposure to lead, mercury, and other toxic substances.44 Isabella d’Este, however, did not care about the medical reasons that kept Master Ercole and his son from working on her bracelets. On October 7, she resolved to write directly to her ­brother Alfonso, who upon receiving her dispatch summoned the tardy artist.45 Although Duke Ercole continued to attend to diplomatic affairs through the last years of his life, by late 1504 many state responsibilities w ­ ere already in the hands 46 of his eldest son. Don Alfonso was not only the second most power­f ul man in Ferrara, though; he was also the godfather of Master Ercole’s son Alfonso, who collaborated in the completion of the maniglie. Ever since



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Graziadio had received the Christian name Alfonso at his baptism, he was related to the ducal heir by ties of spiritual kinship. ­These rendered his and his f­ ather’s obligation to comply with Alfonso d’Este’s requests much stronger than their commitment to Lucrezia Borgia, Cardinal Ippolito, and even Marchioness Isabella herself, ­because neither one of the three had participated in their baptismal ceremony.47 Ferrara’s ­future duke was acutely aware of his authoritative position vis-­à-­vis his godson’s ­father. On October 10, he tried to mollify his ­sister by informing her that he had made it clear to Master Ercole that he should cease working on all of his other commissions and dedicate himself entirely to the maniglie. Now that he was the one ordering the goldsmith to do so, Don Alfonso told Master Ercole, he’d better obey. ­Because if he ­were to be found working on other pieces of jewelry again before completing Isabella’s bracelets, the ducal heir would have ­those smashed with a hammer. Master Ercole promised to supply the maniglie by mid-­ November, and Don Alfonso assured Isabella that he would keep watch on the goldsmith.48 We only get to hear Alfonso’s account of the encounter, in which he revels in his authoritative position, which enables him to voice frightful threats at the subjects of the Este duchy. Nonetheless, it is not difficult to imagine how the thought of his glorious works being ravaged at Don Alfonso’s ­orders must have made the goldsmith feel. To speed up the completion of the maniglie, Don Alfonso agreed to provide Master Ercole with some Pa­ri­sian rosichiero.49 Paris was Eu­rope’s leading center of enameling, and the ducal heir benefited from his recent visit to the city for obtaining colors for enamels that would create beautiful contrasts with the precious metals on which they ­were poured.50 An expensive, translucent red enamel, rosichiero was considered the prettiest of them all. Although it was in use in the cities of northern Italy at least since the early Quattrocento, rosichiero was not abundantly produced in the Italian Peninsula. 51 Master Ercole, who employed the precious enamel for the finishing touches on the works of gold for which he had become famous, was ever alert for high-­quality rosichiero, as is attested in three of the five known letters that he sent Isabella d’Este in the first years of the sixteenth c­ entury. 52 Not content to rely on the word of the goldsmith, four days ­a fter their conversation the ducal heir sent Girolamo Magnanino to pay a

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surprise visit to Master Ercole’s workshop, which was set up inside his ­family’s residence. 53 Only a few of the most well-­to-do goldsmiths in Re­ nais­sance Italy could afford to live in more aristocratic neighborhoods than the ones in which their workshops w ­ ere situated. 54 In the vast majority of cases, goldsmiths worked in their domiciles, the workshop occupying the ground floor and opening to the street. 55 The workshop’s location within the ­family home made it easier for goldsmiths to rely on the unpaid ­labor of their wives and ­children, who provided vari­ous types of unskilled assistance.56 ­Because the number of assistants they could employ was ­limited by guild regulations, the informal help of one’s spouse and c­ hildren could considerably boost a goldsmith’s productivity.57 As Magnanino announced in his letter to Isabella of October 15, upon entering Master Ercole’s workshop on the previous eve­n ing he found that “not only he, but also his ­children [soi figlioli]” ­were toiling on the maniglie.58 The Ferrarese nobleman used the collective term figlioli, which could designate ­either sons or ­children of both sexes. 59 In 1504, Master Ercole’s son Alfonso was twenty-­t wo years old, and his younger son, Ferrante, born between 1485 and 1489, was in his late teens. While his ­d aughter Caterina / ­Sister Theodora was tucked away in Santa Caterina da Siena and her ­sister Anna had already been entrusted to Lucrezia Borgia’s care, the goldsmith’s three younger ­d aughters lived at home, and one or more of them may have performed some of the secondary tasks in the workshop. Both before and ­a fter his conversion, Salomone / Ercole kept in his regular employ three male assistants, but this number would have hardly sufficed for meeting his ever-­g rowing workload in the first years of the sixteenth ­century. In light of his difficulties in completing the numerous bracelets, swords, and other luxury goods commissioned by his aristocratic patrons, it is quite pos­si­ble that the girls in his f­amily, like the ­d aughters of other goldsmiths, ­were required to perform the unskilled work of pounding to create foil or leaf, casting, or transferring.60 His two sons, on the other hand, w ­ ere charged with the more highly specialized tasks of molding the bracelets. They ­were doubtlessly the ones to whom Magnanino referred when describing the work of Master Ercole and his ­children, each one of whom was making (fabricava) a part of the eight pieces that w ­ ere to constitute the maniglie. Like Ziliolo, Magnanino was



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perfectly attuned to Isabella’s desire to procure only objects of dazzling daintiness, and thus he remarked that she should expect a piece that was “much prettier” than that which she could possibly envision before actually inspecting it.61 Although the maniglie ­were still a work in pro­g ress, Magnanino claimed that he had seen an impressive drawing of them, and he extolled Master Ercole’s ingenious disegno.62 This was a key term in the artistic discourse of Re­nais­sance Italy, and its mastery constituted one of the requirements for becoming a virtuoso artist.63 Disegno encompassed a wide range of meanings, from the artist’s plan to his design or drawing—­ processes that w ­ ere perceived as interdependent. The finished products of renowned goldsmiths such as Master Ercole reflected their ability to devise an inventive disegno and to carry out their designs through precious, technically challenging, and highly regarded media.64 Like other con­temporary patrons, including her ­father, Isabella sought out goldsmiths who ­were skilled in disegno, so that they could mediate her own intellectual and po­liti­cal ingenuity through their works.65 That she put up with Master Ercole’s work pace, despite her growing impatience with it, attests to her high regard for this goldsmith’s mastery of disegno. Alfonso d’Este, who now insisted on being informed about the pro­ gress in the bracelets’ production, was also shown the state of the work on October 14.66 In addition, Magnanino obtained a letter from the baptized Jew, which he sent along with his own note to the marchesa on the following day. The earliest message authored by the goldsmith ­a fter his apostasy to be discovered so far, it was signed by “Ercole, goldsmith of the most illustrious lord, the Duke of Ferrara,” 67 just as his ­earlier dispatch, from August 16, 1491, identified its sender as “Salamone, goldsmith of the most illustrious lady, the Duchess of Ferrara.” 68 As mentioned ­earlier, even though ­others continued to refer to his Jewish origins well into the early sixteenth ­century,69 in the letters that he sent both before and ­a fter his baptism the goldsmith himself was careful to note solely his occupation, an ele­ment of his identity that remained unchanged, and of which he was evidently proud. By stressing his position as court goldsmith in the way he signed his dispatches, Salomone / Ercole fashioned himself as a man who was, first and foremost, an artist whom Ferrara’s rulers employed b ­ ecause of his outstanding virtuosity. This confidence in his

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professional skills also underlay the message that he addressed to Isabella, which is worth citing: Recently Your Excellency had commissioned me that I had to forge ­t hese works, which I immediately began and I worked on them well, greatly desiring to satisfy Your Excellency and to make something beautiful that would please You, and I have nothing e­ lse on my mind other than ­t hese works. But ­because I was busy with some other t­ hings that I was required to do, in a way that I have not been able to finish Yours, of which Messer Girolamo Ziliolo and Barone [Carlo Bonvesin]70 are well informed, therefore God knows that the fault was not mine but was rather ­because I agreed to serve ­those who can command me to [do] t­ hese [­things], but I ­w ill once explain to Your Excellency in person how this came to happen. Your Excellency should know that I have not been able to work much [on the maniglie] ­because I have only two hands, and my son [Alfonso] has two o ­ thers, so we could not get much work done, although we did not keep idle, e­ ither. Still, Your Excellency should rest assured that I w ­ ill not neglect them [the maniglie] day and night so that it [the work] ­will be finished. I further beg Your Ladyship to wish to have a ­little bit of rosichiero, which You had promised me, sent to me, provided that it is of good quality, b ­ ecause I have enough of bad quality, and as soon as I w ­ ill have it, I ­w ill immediately try it. I put my son Ferrante to work, as Your Ladyship had told me [to do], so that I believe that he ­w ill not be a disgrace to me and ­w ill follow in my footsteps. I commend myself to Your Ladyship, of whom I have always been and w ­ ill always be a servant.71

For the first time, we hear Master Ercole’s own voice in the m ­ atter of the delayed production of the maniglie. Significantly, in contrast to Ziliolo’s e­ arlier dispatch, the goldsmith keeps his own counsel as to any feelings that dealing with Isabella’s emissaries aroused in him. Alluding to his contacts with Ziliolo and with Carlo Bonvesin, also known as “il Barone,” to whom he had explained his tardiness, Master Ercole refrained from detailing the emotional toll that the pressure exerted by the



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marchesa’s envoys took on him as well as on his c­ hildren, who ­were pre­ sent during at least one of the surprise visits to his workshop.72 Whereas Ziliolo, Magnanino, and Alfonso d’Este had stressed their efforts to induce the goldsmith to complete the maniglie by terrorizing him—­barging in on his ­family in the eve­n ing, holding over his head the risk of imprisonment, or threatening to smash his works—­the goldsmith himself ignored all t­ hese. Instead, he strove to pre­sent his true devotion to the marchesa as the only motivation ­behind his reinvigorated efforts to finish the bracelets by working on them “day and night.” Although his words do not reveal the psychological effect of her emissaries’ menaces, then, they do disclose the way in which the goldsmith himself tried to account for his actions. Notwithstanding the power relations between the goldsmith and his princely patron, or even her upper-­class emissaries, this letter gives us a glimpse of Master Ercole as a historical actor, who sought to explicate the motivations b ­ ehind his deeds.73 Just as the depiction of Ziliolo’s extreme emotions in his ­earlier correspondence was prob­ably exaggerated, though, so the motive portrayed in Master Ercole’s dispatch did not accurately represent his interior drives. Both letters w ­ ere carefully crafted texts that ­were aimed primarily at projecting a specific image, which would appeal to the aristocratic patron to whom they ­were addressed. Ziliolo underscored the extent to which a pos­si­ble offense to Isabella’s honor disturbed his peace of mind in order to assure her of his fidelity as an agent, one who would do all within his powers to abide by her requests.74 By the same token, Master Ercole avoided referring to the impact that her envoys’ intimidations had on his ­mental state in an attempt to convince the marchioness that he was respectful of her demands, and that only his commitment to her prompted his resolution to resume working on the maniglie.75 Interestingly, while Girolamo Magnanino mentioned the infirmity that had kept him from working for almost two weeks,76 in his own message the goldsmith chose not to bring up his health trou­bles. To justify his failure to make significant pro­gress before mid-­October, he provided the same explanation that Ziliolo had offered, shifting the blame from himself to his power­f ul patrons in Ferrara. Due, perhaps, to his awareness of the repeated suspicions of his dishonesty, the goldsmith invoked the Almighty to vouch for his sincerity in the m ­ atter. Although he did

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not explic­itly name his other patrons, Isabella would have known that he was referring to her rival, Lucrezia Borgia, and to Cardinal Ippolito.77 Master Ercole went on to assert that he had only one pair of hands to work with. This affirmation, which seems to merely state the obvious, was not r­ eally meant to serve as an additional excuse for the failure to deliver the completed maniglie on time. Rather, the implication was that even with his son Alfonso’s assistance, their two pairs of skilled hands could not keep up with the constant demand for luxury objects from Master Ercole’s workshop. By calling attention to his hands, with which he created his highly esteemed pieces, the goldsmith reinforced his image as an artist nonpareil, whose works w ­ ere sought out by Ferrara’s most power­ful patrons (“­those who can command”).78 In a somewhat similar manner, another con­temporary artist employed by Ferrara’s rulers, the celebrated painter Ercole de’ Roberti (c. 1450–1496), declared in one of his missives that his arm and his God-­g iven talent ­were his only assets.79 The message to Isabella d’Este additionally bears witness to the satisfaction that Salomone / Ercole felt about the outcome of his successful training of Ferrante, his younger son, who by his late teens was already set on the path of becoming a successful goldsmith. In Master Ercole’s affirmation about Ferrante—­“I believe that he w ­ ill not be a disgrace to me and w ­ ill follow in my footsteps”—we note the pride that a self-­made goldsmith, the descendant of Jewish moneylenders, felt at seeing his own son show unmistakable signs of artistic talent.80 As we saw ­earlier, Master Ercole himself conformed to the Re­nais­sance type of major innovators in the visual arts, ­those who made the greatest contribution to the evolution of new artistic trends despite, and perhaps b ­ ecause of, being out81 siders, socially as well as geo­graph­i­cally. The son and grand­son of moneylenders, he was the first member of his f­amily to have learned a metallurgical art. Having been called to the goldsmith’s craft through a creative impulse, which led him to abandon his forefathers’ vocation, ­after attaining notable fame he desired to establish an artistic dynasty by training first Alfonso and then Ferrante to follow suit. Keeping the business in the ­family had obvious advantages, ­because in the course of their training a master goldsmith’s sons ­were excluded from the limit imposed on the number of apprentices that he was allowed to take on. Moreover, guild regulations reduced, and sometimes even annulled, the entry fees for the master’s sons (as well as for the master’s



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grand­sons, ­brothers, and even nephews). 82 Once they completed their training, the master’s sons continued to work in the workshop as his partners, without having to worry about purchasing expensive equipment or obtaining an initial clientele. A ­ fter the ­father’s death, an only son was expected to take over his workshop, and if more than one son specialized in the ­father’s craft, the sons could e­ ither keep it as a fraternal partnership or divide the workshop and its equipment among them. 83 While Master Ercole was certainly e­ ager to impart his skills to Ferrante, just as he had done with Alfonso, his mention of Isabella d’Este’s encouragement in this context points to the duty of sixteenth-­century ­fathers to ensure the professional formation of their sons. Reflecting the increased status accorded to Roman law, which boosted the prerogatives of f­ athers over their c­ hildren, humanists’ treatises stressed paternal responsibility not only for educating their sons but also for helping them make their way in the world. This expectation was not directed solely to men of the propertied classes; Re­nais­sance artisans and craftsmen ­were likewise supposed to ensure that their sons would establish themselves in an occupation. When a ­father was a successful artist, it was generally assumed that he would want to transmit his expertise to his sons, granting continuity to the f­ amily’s name and reputation. 84 Isabella’s reply to Master Ercole, which was penned on October 18, bears witness to this prevailing social anticipation: Master Ercole, from the letter of Messer Girolamo Magnanino and from your own letter we have learned about the good state that our maniglie are currently in, which renders us hopeful of having them at the time promised to the lord Don Alfonso, although to say the truth we have previously feared that what had happened with you on other occasions would happen again. If you keep your promise we ­w ill forgive you, ­because nobody ­else ­w ill be able to command you more, to whom you have to show greater re­spect than to the lord Don Alfonso. We are pleased that your son Ferrante has begun to work, we have no doubt that he w ­ ill bring you honor. We are sending you the rosichiero, which we are told is good, as we promised you. Keep working, b ­ ecause in addition to the payment we w ­ ill do something pleasing for you. 85

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The marchioness reminded Master Ercole that her ­brother Alfonso had ordered him to regard Isabella’s bracelets as his first priority.86 Don Alfonso’s position was inferior solely to that of the el­derly Duke Ercole, whose health had been in decline since September 1504.87 As Isabella insinuated in her dispatch to the tardy artist, Don Alfonso was the man who would soon succeed Ercole d’Este as Ferrara’s ruler; thus, his authority surpassed that of Master Ercole’s other patrons in Ferrara, namely, Lucrezia Borgia and Cardinal Ippolito. Although she made no attempt to hide her pique concerning the repeated postponing of the delivery of her bracelets, Isabella’s wording discloses the eagerness with which she awaited the completed work, as well as her enduring esteem of the goldsmith’s virtuosity. Moreover, her response reflects her faith in the artistic skills of his son Ferrante. Indeed, whereas Master Ercole humbly stated that he hoped Ferrante’s work would not cause him shame, Isabella predicted the honor that this son’s ­career would bring his f­ ather. Let us recall that in Re­nais­sance Italy, sons’ accomplishments ­were seen to reflect the success of paternal upbringing and served to enhance their f­ athers’ social prestige. 88 The marchesa, a leading authority on art and luxury commodities, correctly foretold Ferrante’s fate. Like his ­brother, Alfonso, Ferrante continued to work in his ­father’s workshop and to collaborate with him professionally over the next fifteen years. Evidence from the second de­ cade of the Cinquecento already refers not only to Alfonso but also to his younger b ­ rother as a qualified goldsmith, who was responsible for the manufacture of valuable objects. The two ­brothers worked alongside their ­father at least ­u ntil 1521, and Ferrante continued to be active as a goldsmith in the following de­cades. In 1552, when he was more than sixty years old, Master Ferrante the goldsmith, “son of the late Ercole [de’] Fedeli,” served as a witness to a contract signed by another goldsmith in Ferrara. 89 Almost half a ­century ­a fter Isabella d’Este had assured Master Ercole that his younger son would bring him honor, Ferrante de’ Fedeli continued to carry on his ­father’s name, adding luster to Master Ercole’s reputation as a renowned goldsmith. The vicissitudes of Master Ercole and his two ­daughters and two sons following their conversion, as reconstructed in the last few chapters, tell us a ­g reat deal about the social benefits that apostasy from Judaism



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could confer not just upon adult neophytes but also upon their c­ hildren who had been baptized at young age. Conversion enabled Salomone / Ercole to place one of his d ­ aughters as a damsel at the court of Ferrara’s f­ uture duchess and to assign her s­ ister to a monastic house—­t wo positions that ­were available only for Catholic girls. At the same time, the convert’s Christian patrons provided him with an ever-­growing number of commissions and encouraged him to see to the professional formation of his sons as a key to their effective integration into Christian society. Although Jews ­were allowed to practice goldsmithery in Italian court cities such as Ferrara and Mantua and could also train their sons in the craft, their professional activities w ­ ere critically restricted.90 The limitations placed on their artistic production and the precarity that characterized Jewish life in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries made it impossible for goldsmiths who did not apostatize to found artistic dynasties of the kind that Master Ercole succeeded in establishing ­a fter becoming a Catholic.91

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IV Between Christians and Jews

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In Prison, Again

I

SABELLA D’ E STE’S

response to Master Ercole’s apol­o­getic letter initially seemed to have done the trick: he focused his mind on completing the maniglie. On November 4, 1504, Girolamo Magnanino wrote to the marchioness ­a fter yet another unannounced visit to the goldsmith’s workshop: Your Ladyship reminds me to urge [Master Ercole to complete] Your maniglie, and I have not forgotten it, and so t­ oday I have been to see what is happening with it. And having found the door of Master Ercole’s ­house open, without knocking or making any other sound I went into the room in which he works, and I found him and his eldest son working ­there, and truly it is not a work that one should be impatient about, [­because] it is so delicate. And to the best of my understanding Your Ladyship should expect it to take much time, but it w ­ ill be a beautiful t­ hing, indeed, most beautiful—­that is my opinion. I w ­ ill not fail to pressure him so that the work is finished soon.1 183

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A week l­ ater, Magnanino again went to spy on the goldsmith’s pro­ gress and then let Isabella know that the bracelets ­were “so fine, difficult [to make] and laborious” that their completion required additional time. Since it became clear that the deadline for consigning the work, as set by Don Alfonso d’Este, was about to pass, Magnanino asked Master Ercole to commit to a new date for delivering them.2 The artist refused to do so, saying that he “did not wish to tell a lie.” Having already been accused by Girolamo Ziliolo of being a liar a few months ­earlier, Salomone / Ercole did not want to make more promises that he would not be able to keep. He nonetheless gave Magnanino his word that he and his son would devote themselves entirely to manufacturing the bracelets not only ­every day but also during “a part of the night.” Although it was taking an inordinate amount of time to complete the maniglie, Magnanino remarked, at least the marchesa would eventually have “something well done, which is worthy of her.” Indeed, he would pester the goldsmith to supply the bracelets ­until he desired to stab the emissary!3 Magnanino’s detailed reports to Isabella provide rare glimpses of the daily life of goldsmiths in the court cities of northern Italy. With their workshops located inside their homes, Re­nais­sance goldsmiths, assisted by their f­ amily members, worked long hours. Although the quality production of luxury objects required plentiful natu­ral light,4 at pressing times they w ­ ere evidently expected to remain by their furnace long ­a fter dusk and work by candlelight. Moreover, despite the high esteem in which their artistic skills ­were held, they not only ­were subject to surprise visits from the representatives of their elite patrons, but t­ hese envoys did not even feel bound by the norms of courtesy—­notably that of requesting permission to enter a person’s private premises. Men such as Magnanino ­were expected to resort to all available means for pleasing the aristocratic rulers they w ­ ere serving, including making the lives of the goldsmiths they w ­ ere tasked with pressuring so unbearable that the latter would wish to harm them. 5 Roberta Bianco’s biographical account of Salomone / Ercole, published in the authoritative Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani in 1993, has it that “­a fter 1504 the documents do not provide any further information about [him].” 6 The artist’s name, however, does indeed surface in numerous letters, registers, and other types of sources drafted over the course of the next sixteen years. The earliest known documents to men-



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tion him in 1505 ­were Isabella’s missives of January 13 to both Magnanino and Girolamo Ziliolo, the agent who had consigned the gold to the goldsmith, in which the marchioness declared that since she no longer knew “what to say, nor do, about the maniglie,” she desired “once and for all, to have them or e­ lse to get back the gold.”7 She instructed Magnanino to contact Ziliolo, who would know the amount of gold that had to be retrieved from the impertinent goldsmith, and to make sure that her b ­ rother Alfonso would see to it that this was indeed done. 8 The tardy master continued to invoke “his usual excuses of ­t hese lords,” namely, his heavy workload for Cardinal Ippolito and for Lucrezia Borgia, but Don Alfonso had by then had enough and agreed to have Master Ercole thrown into jail. Ziliolo assumed that it would still be very difficult get hold of the finished work from him, “­because of his depravity.” Nonetheless, he hoped that the extreme mea­sure would at least make it pos­si­ble to have Isabella’s gold back.9 Ziliolo’s repeated references to Master Ercole as debased and duplicitous deserve further consideration ­because such terms ­were unusual in discussions of artists’ work habits. Indeed, one of the markers of the so-­ called rise of the artist in Re­nais­sance Italy was the growing recognition, on the part of patrons and their agents, that virtuoso artists are men of genius who often accomplish most when they appear to be working the least ­because they are thinking of designs, as Giorgio Vasari (1511– 1574) affirmed ­later in the sixteenth ­century. The notion that gifted artists could not be expected to complete their commissions on time was already held by aristocratic patrons in northern Italy in the late fifteenth c­ entury.10 In this vein, in 1480 Francesco Gonzaga’s f­ ather, Marquis Federico I (1441–1484), explained to the Duchess of Milan that his court painter, Andrea Mantegna, had failed to complete a certain work on time ­because artists of his caliber ­were often capricious, and not much could be done about it.11 Although Isabella valued Master Ercole as a virtuoso goldsmith, her agent Ziliolo did not follow con­temporary custom by casting his comportment in light of his artistic ingenuity. Instead, Ziliolo consistently coupled Salomone / Ercole’s unreliability with negative character traits. Although he did not explic­itly evoke his Jewish background, the man who was closely involved with the vicissitudes of the tertiaries’ ­house of which Caterina / ­Sister Theodora was a member was no doubt aware of

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the turn of events that had led to her ­father’s consent to baptism. Like Francesco Gonzaga, Ziliolo evidently regarded Master Ercole as an undependable man, one whose disloyalty to his original community of faith prefigured his f­ uture acts of deceit. In contrast to Ziliolo, Isabella’s other correspondent, Girolamo Magnanino, refrained from passing judgment on Master Ercole’s character. In 1491, Magnanino had reported the goldsmith’s baptismal ceremony in a celebratory tone, noting the appreciative provisions that he had received from Duchess Eleonora. In his l­ater correspondence with Eleonora’s ­daughter, Magnanino dwelled upon the extraordinary quality of the artist’s work, linking the ingenuity of his disegno with his inability to produce the bracelets in a timely fashion12 —­just as Federico Gonzaga had justified Mantegna’s failure to complete a commission by the set deadline. It is worth recalling that, unlike Bernardino de’ Prosperi and Francesco da Bagnacavallo, Magnanino never mentioned the dubious circumstances that had led Salomone da Sesso to become a Christian. Instead, Magnanino portrayed the Jew’s baptism as irrefutable evidence of the victory of the Catholic faith.13 Thirteen years ­later, while driving the goldsmith to accelerate his work pace, Magnanino again passed up the opportunity to rake Salomone / Ercole over the moral coals. While for Ziliolo it was sheer dishonesty that animated Master Ercole, Magnanino chose to frame the refusal to set a date for the consignment of the maniglie in the context of rectitude: “He did not wish to tell a lie”—an affirmation reported in Magnanino’s dispatch of November 11, 1504, and again in that of January 19, 1505.14 Magnanino certainly held back from even hinting at the dishonesty of a Jew who, for what­ever reason, had elected to cross over to the Catholic camp, and by so ­doing he contributed to the growth of the faith. Yet, as far as Ziliolo was concerned, we may won­der ­whether his disdain for Salomone / Ercole was mainly a product of his frustration with the goldsmith’s be­hav­ior or should also be seen against the mirror of the constant doubts about convert sincerity that had long been a hallmark of attitudes t­ oward apostates from Judaism. While baptism undeniably brought about considerable economic and professional advantages, ­those who had abandoned the religion of their forefathers ­were perceived, at least by some of their contemporaries, as untrustworthy or even down-



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right deceitful, and their Jewish origins continued to set them apart from their Christian counter­parts.15 On January 19, ­after several additional visits to Master Ercole’s workshop, Magnanino let Isabella know that the goldsmith, upon hearing of Isabella’s demand to retrieve her gold if he could not consign the bracelets promptly, agreed to return her gold (i.e., to deliver the incomplete work). Magnanino, however, was convinced that this would not be in the marchesa’s best interest, given the magnificence of the maniglie even in their unfinished state. Hence, Magnanino informed Isabella, aiming “to encourage him to complete them, and in order to frighten him,” Alfonso d’Este had Master Ercole “detained in the ­castle, where he ­w ill be held ­today and tomorrow, so that he cannot work, then he w ­ ill be liberated 16 upon promising to serve Your Ladyship speedily.” Although Re­nais­sance artists and craftsmen w ­ ere sometimes imprisoned upon failing to meet the terms on which they had agreed with a princely patron, both sides understood that their arrest could prove counterproductive, as it prevented the prisoners from working on their overdue commissions.17 Alfonso d’Este, who ordered Master Ercole’s incarceration, knew that his ­sister greatly desired the maniglie, and therefore had no intention of keeping the goldsmith in jail for a long period of time. Detaining him in the c­ astle for two days was meant solely to cause him a “serious scare,” of the type that Don Alfonso was prone to give employees of the extended Este ­family who aroused his wrath shortly before his official ascension to the ducal throne.18 Ferrara’s Castel Vecchio, albeit serving as Eleonora of Aragon’s residence and ­later favored by her son Alfonso, was a rather unwelcoming place—­equipped with a torture chamber, a room outfitted for decapitations, and the prison cells located at the bases of its towers.19 Don Alfonso, who knew its prisons well, surely anticipated the horrifying effect that even a short-­term incarceration at the bottom of one of the c­ astle’s towers would have on Master Ercole. By the time he ordered the convert’s arrest, his ailing ­father was already on the verge of death and so could not intervene in ­favor of his talented protégé.20 The ducal heir and his ­sister, who had both followed the goldsmith’s vicissitudes back in 1491, no doubt remembered his e­ arlier incarceration, which ultimately led to his conversion, and so did Girolamo Magnanino. They also both knew that spending time in a drafty prison chamber at the coldest time of the year

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was an especially unpleasant experience.21 Given the harsh conditions of a wintertime imprisonment and the trauma of his past stint in jail, all three w ­ ere hopeful that locking Master Ercole up for just two days would scare him into making the bracelets his first priority. On January 24, Isabella expressed her satisfaction upon hearing of the “spurring” (speronata) that her b ­ rother had given Master Ercole and instructed Magnanino to keep reminding the goldsmith of “this terror” that her b ­ rother had caused him, so that he does not fail to speed up his work pace. 22 On the following day, however, Duke Ercole passed away, and over the next few months his successor, Don Alfonso, had weightier ­things to worry about than his s­ ister’s jewelry.23 Isabella, however, spared not a moment in facilitating the work’s conclusion; when visiting Ferrara early in the spring, she met with Salomone / Ercole in person and secured yet another promise from him to supply it shortly.24 Still, as the summer arrived and the bracelets did not, she began to worry about missing the opportunity to display them on her bare arms during the hot season. Master Ercole’s fear of detention following his brief incarceration had evidently worn off in the months that tran­spired since January. Ziliolo, who a­ fter Ercole d’Este’s death began serving the new duke, admitted that he had no luck in getting the goldsmith to finish the work. Hence, Ziliolo advised Isabella to write to her ­brother in person and ask him to force “this wicked and scoundrel of a Master” to be done with the maniglie once and for all.25 Isabella took Ziliolo’s advice to heart and on June 7 turned to Duke Alfonso, apologizing for troubling him with such a trivial m ­ atter—­due, she explained, to her being in urgent “need of the maniglie.”26 Recalling her encounter with Master Ercole in Ferrara a few weeks ­earlier, in which he had promised her the rapid conclusion of the work, the marchioness implored her ­brother to coerce him to deliver the bracelets, reminding him that by ignoring Alfonso’s past ­orders in this regard the impudent artist was manifesting disrespect ­toward the reigning duke.27 Duke Alfonso hit upon a sensible solution: rather than throwing the goldsmith into the ­castle, he had his older son incarcerated. This left Master Ercole ­free to work on the maniglie while his son awaited the release that would only come upon their completion. 28 Duke Alfonso’s order to have Master Ercole’s son imprisoned instead of his ­father indicates that Alfonso, who in 1505 was twenty-­three years



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old, was not yet legally emancipated. Following the precepts of Roman law, a son in sixteenth-­century Italy remained subject to paternal power (patria potestas) ­unless he obtained a l­ egal deed of emancipation, to which the ­father had to consent.29 The sons of artists who ­were employed in the workshops headed by their f­ athers often remained unemancipated even ­after they married and established their own h ­ ouse­holds, only operating as in­de­pen­dent masters ­after their ­father’s death.30 Unemancipated sons could not execute l­ egal acts without their ­father’s involvement, the latter could make a claim on their earnings, and u ­ nder certain circumstances they could also be punished for their ­father’s crimes. 31 Graziadio / Alfonso’s arrest therefore allows us to see the other side of the increased importance that was ascribed to father-­son relations in early modern Italy. While Master Ercole was deemed responsible for the professional formation of his sons and was expected to impart his artistic expertise to them so that they, too, would become established goldsmiths, his unemancipated son was held liable for his ­father’s inadequacies. By arresting Alfonso, the duke aimed at exerting pressure on his f­ather, who would be deprived of profit from his son’s ­labor. Neither the Duke of Ferrara nor Isabella’s agents regarded Alfonso as an in­de­pen­dent, adult male; for them, he was no more than his ­father’s proxy. Our sources are s­ ilent on the victim’s own feelings about his imprisonment, but we know that it certainly caused his f­ ather ­great concern. According to Ziliolo, Master Ercole “was quite saddened by his son’s incarceration.”32 Having himself been reminded of the unpleasantness of confinement in Ferrara’s prison just a few months ­earlier, Salomone / Ercole was doubtlessly ­eager to see his son at large. Still, despite the daily pressure that Isabella’s envoys exerted on him, the work remained unfinished two weeks ­later. In Alfonso’s absence, Master Ercole was forced to rely on just one pair of hands, rather than on ­those of two expert goldsmiths. Duke Alfonso therefore ultimately de­c ided that the only way to ensure the bracelets’ delivery was to have both ­father and son imprisoned so that they could finish the work, together, while detained in the ­castle. He thus ordered Master Ercole’s arrest and declared that he would not be set ­free before the work was done. On June 26, Ziliolo shared the news with Isabella, remarking, “The Master of the maniglie is also in prison, and he is working

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t­ here and w ­ ill not be getting out of t­ here ­until they are finished, which I believe ­w ill be soon.”33 Both the armories and the foundry for casting artillery in Ferrara ­were h ­ oused in the c­ astle, 34 and the latter may have been the site where Master Ercole and his son w ­ ere expected to resume their joint work, ­u nder the new duke’s close supervision. Alfonso d’Este came to inspect their pro­g ress and ordered the two not to spend additional time on enameling certain parts of the maniglie. It still took the goldsmiths almost two more months of work to complete the bracelets, but, on August 17, they fi­nally handed them over to Ziliolo. 35 Ziliolo immediately took the maniglie to the Este country residence of Belriguardo, where Ferrara’s ruler was staying at that time, and showed them to the duke, who was very pleased with the result and ordered that they be sent to his s­ ister.36 A h ­ orse­man delivered both the bracelets and a detailed account of their production cost to the marchioness, who on August 21 expressed her g­ reat satisfaction with the outcome.37 Although the maniglie are no longer extant—­like other kinds of luxury goods, they ­were melted down and their gold reused or sold ­a fter the death of their original owner 38 —­t here can be no doubt that the marchesa was very fond of them; she put them on so often that they occasionally required repairing.39 Ziliolo attached a letter to Master Ercole’s finished work, which opened with the exclamation: “To the honor of God, Your Ladyship’s maniglie are completed.” The Ferrarese courtier stressed the emotional impact of the protracted production of the bracelets, noting that he knew how much the marchioness had desired to see the work finished and that he had been just as annoyed as Isabella about the goldsmith’s tardiness. Nonetheless, he hoped that the result would please her ­because this would be “a very g­ reat consolation” to him, a­ fter all his efforts to obtain the piece. Although he was certain that this would not have been achieved without the severe mea­sure of imprisoning both Master Ercole and his son, Ziliolo claimed that the work’s extraordinary grace compensated for the excessive delay in its consignment. Indeed, he went as far as affirming that “a ­thing so refined and elegant has never been created in this city.” 40 This is a striking remark, given Ferrara’s undisputed status as one of the leading centers of artistic production in fifteenth-­and sixteenth-­



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century Italy.41 Only a few men in Ferrara would have been in the position to make this kind of assertion with such confidence as did Ziliolo, who had been in charge of Ercole d’Este’s valuable goods for many years, in addition to purchasing luxury items for Eleonora of Aragon, Anna Sforza, and Isabella d’Este.42 In Ziliolo’s praise, we witness the unabashed admiration that Salomone / Ercole’s artistic genius aroused, even in a man who was far from fond of his manners or his character. The goldsmith himself also sent a missive to Isabella upon completing her commission. Whereas the ­earlier correspondence among the marchesa, her ­brother, and her agents described the steps taken in the hope of frightening him into delivering the bracelets, we get to hear his own take on t­ hese intentional attempts to terrorize him only ­a fter his liberation from jail. Written on August 17, 1505, at the end of what must have been the most trying period he had under­gone since his conversion to Catholicism in 1491, Master Ercole’s words merely hinted at the feelings provoked by the harsh treatment that he suffered, as a result of failing to meet the expectations of his princely patron. The goldsmith affirmed only, “My most illustrious lady, I am sending Your Excellency the maniglie with Polidoro the messenger, or rather the h ­ orse­man. And if I have been too tardy forgive me, Your Ladyship, b ­ ecause he who is with ­others needs to be obedient. We have had much difficulty and anxiety, now God should be praised for every­thing. May God grant Your Ladyship to enjoy it.” 43 “Much difficulty and anxiety,” then, summed up Master Ercole’s experience of being imprisoned for two days in the midst of winter, of seeing his son incarcerated in the spring, and of spending almost two more months of detention in Ferrara’s ­castle with him. Writing to the person responsible for his plight, the goldsmith knew that t­ here was no use in complaining about the brutality of his incarceration or of the unjust imprisonment of his son. Given the unequal power relations between the artist and his patron, an apology for his trou­bles was not likely to be forthcoming. It would be in his best interest, he de­cided, to seek the marchesa’s forgiveness for his extensive delay in executing the work. Salomone / Ercole justified his belated delivery of the bracelets just as he had in the e­ arlier missive of October 1504, namely, noting his commitment to other power­f ul patrons in Ferrara.44 Isabella already dismissed this excuse as inadmissible in her response to Master Ercole of

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October 18, 1504, in which she reminded him of the pre­ce­dence that he had to give to Alfonso d’Este’s o ­ rders, and that the latter wished him to 45 prioritize Isabella’s bracelets. By the summer of 1505, a­ fter having been arrested at Duke Alfonso’s behest, the goldsmith surely realized that Isabella would deem his commitment to Lucrezia Borgia and Cardinal Ippolito d’Este as a poor excuse. We can only guess why he nonetheless repeated it; most likely, he simply had no better explanation to offer. ­A fter the terse allusion to his woes, the goldsmith added, “Now God should be praised for every­t hing.” As we saw ­earlier, Girolamo Ziliolo similarly invoked God when expressing his joy over the completion of the maniglie.46 Yet, while Isabella’s agent apparently felt grateful about not having to hound the artist any longer, Master Ercole was obviously relieved to be back home a­ fter almost two months in prison. He further expressed his hope that God would grant his patron plea­sure while wearing the bracelets. The goldsmith had already invoked the Almighty in his missive to Isabella of October 1504. Nonetheless, in his brief dispatch to the marchioness of August  1505 he mentioned God not once but twice. This display of faith, which was not repeated in his subsequent correspondence, may attest to the intensification of his religious feelings, following the dismay caused by his son’s imprisonment and the trauma of being thrown into jail himself. Master Ercole may have prayed to God to deliver him from his misfortune, and therefore felt that God was to be praised once he and his son w ­ ere released. Referring to the Divine not only in the context of his own “difficulty and anxiety,” but also when stating his hope that Isabella would derive plea­sure from his artistic creation, the goldsmith perhaps hoped to give the impression that his God and Isabella’s ­were one and the same. Nonetheless, it is instructive that he avoided any specifically Catholic allusion, ­either to Jesus, to the Virgin Mary, or to any other saint. The convert’s mention of God and God alone may have reflected his enduring religious ambivalence; ­a fter all, a Jew could just as easily have invoked God in this context. The twofold allusion to the Creator in Salomone / Ercole’s missive might have also been related to the sense of insecurity that he felt in the summer of 1505. A ­ fter the death of his longtime ducal protector, Ercole d’Este, in January of that year, Master Ercole was no longer employed as a court goldsmith—­for the first time since entering Eleonora of Aragon’s



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ser­v ice in 1487. His vulnerability may be gauged from the way he signed his letter of August 1505 merely as “Ercole the goldsmith”;47 in no other known missive did he designate himself solely by his profession, without naming his principal princely patron. Salomone / Ercole had identified himself first as “goldsmith of the most illustrious lady, the Duchess of Ferrara” (in 1491) and then as “goldsmith of the most illustrious lord, the Duke of Ferrara” (in 1504).48 In two of his l­ ater dispatches, from May 14 and July 15, 1506, he designated himself “goldsmith of the most illustrious duchess of Ferrara,” Lucrezia Borgia.49 His last extant missive, of August 10, 1506, was addressed to Isabella d’Este, who was referred to as the goldsmith’s “only lady,” and was signed “Master Ercole, Your Ladyship’s goldsmith.”50 In striking contrast with all t­ hese other letters that he sent, then, in his dispatch of August 17, 1505, Salomone / Ercole did not identify himself as a goldsmith working in the ser­vice of any member of the extended Este f­ amily. 51 Clearly, on the heels of his imprisonment on order of the reigning duke, he could not claim the status of a goldsmith to e­ ither Duke Alfonso or his consort. For obvious reasons, he could also not pre­ sent himself as Isabella’s goldsmith as he would attempt to do a year ­later, following the rehabilitation of his relations with the marchesa a­ fter the consignment of the maniglie.52 It appears as if the scribe who wrote down the letter of August 17, 1505, perhaps at Salomone / Ercole’s request, originally thought to indicate his former status as Duke Ercole’s court goldsmith, b ­ ecause the word “formerly” (olim) was added ­a fter the designation “Ercole the goldsmith.” Yet the scribe, or possibly the goldsmith himself, eventually de­ cided against this course of action. This resulted in a rather unusual, incomplete signature at the bottom of the dispatch, which was signed: “Servant of Your Most Illustrious Ladyship, Ercole the goldsmith, formerly—.”53 Whereas the hesitation in signing his missive attests to Master Ercole’s precarious position in the summer of 1505, the goldsmith certainly did not lose his self-­esteem. ­After apologizing for the delay in completing the maniglie, he voiced his hope that Isabella would be pleased with the outcome and “put aside all discord” between the two of them. Cognizant of the admiration that the cuff bracelets had provoked among their first viewers, Ziliolo and Duke Alfonso, Salomone / Ercole assumed

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that Isabella would respond in kind. It was in this spirit, it seems, that he requested she show the maniglie to Andrea Mantegna, the most successful artist active in northern Italy at the turn of the ­century. 54 When Master Ercole penned this request, Mantegna had already completed forty-­six years in the ser­vice of three generations of Mantua’s rulers, earning a level of acclaim and status unparalleled by any other artist of his day.55 Isabella, who openly declared her admiration for Mantegna’s impressive knowledge of the ancient Roman past, used to rely on his advice in the acquisition of antiquities. In the first years of the Cinquecento, the painter was also largely responsible for the program designed for the marchesa’s famous studiolo.56 Master Ercole’s mention of Mantegna in his dispatch to Isabella, then, discloses his up-­to-­date knowledge of the intricacies of the artistic scene in Mantua. Although he had not been to the city for a full de­cade, since his banishment from Gonzaga lands in 1495, the goldsmith was evidently aware of Isabella’s employment of the el­derly painter for the decoration scheme of her studiolo. Moreover, even ­a fter several weeks in prison and with no permanent employment at court, Salomone / Ercole remained so confident of his virtuosity that he deemed his maniglie worthy of the attention of the era’s most celebrated artist. ­W hether his invocation of the Almighty in August 1505 reflected his faith in the God of Chris­tian­ity or rather a persisting religious ambivalence, Master Ercole certainly continued to put his trust first and foremost in his own artistic talent.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Plague and Malaria

T

who committed so much to paper, does not disappoint ­here ­either, expressing her appreciation of the singular beauty of the maniglie in the following missive, which she sent Girolamo Ziliolo on August 21, 1505: HE MARCHIONESS,

Dearest respectable friend of ours, we have received your letter, together with the maniglie, which are so beautiful and excellent that they make up for the goldsmith’s tardiness and delay. We praise Master Ercole and his son for such an elegant work, and you for the diligence that you have used. Give infinite thanks to our most illustrious b ­ rother [Duke Alfonso] on our behalf . . . ​­because w ­ ere it not for his authority, and for the decision to detain him [Master Ercole] in the c­ astle, we believe that he would not have finished them during his lifetime. As for the price for the manufacturing that he is asking for, it seems to us that truly he does not deserve one bolognino less than the twenty-­five ducats [he is requesting]. However, ­because it has been several years since we gave him 195

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twenty-­five ducats so that he make us gold buttons, which he has never made for us, you can tell him that we w ­ ill balance the two out. And in order for him to know that we esteem his work and his virtue, give him ten ducats, as well as two [ducats] for the gold which it appears to you that he is still owed.1

Although Isabella was evidently pleased with the maniglie and did not hide her continued admiration of Master Ercole’s artistic virtù, she kept s­ ilent on his request to have his work shown to Andrea Mantegna. If she ever did as the goldsmith had asked her to do, she did not bother informing him of Mantegna’s reaction. Nonetheless, the marchesa was clearly interested in procuring additional accessories from Salomone / Ercole, a desire conveyed in the following note that she sent him on August 21: Master Ercole, the maniglie are beautiful and elegant, and of this we are greatly satisfied and we balance out the beauty for the delay. As for the payment for the manufacturing and for the gold that you are owed, we refer you to Girolamo Ziliolo. If we believed that you wished to be more expeditious in serving us, which you have not been in the past, as soon as the plague ceased we would have sent you the means for making us ten or twelve gold buttons for the sleeve. However, if you decide to change your nature, and let us know when Ferrara is out of danger, we ­w ill send you the money for making them.2

Northern Italian rulers, Isabella included, kept close watch over the contagious movements of the plague, whose frequent recurrence constituted not only a health h ­ azard but also an economic concern in the 3 sixteenth ­century. The summer of 1505 was a particularly devastating one for Ferrara’s inhabitants, due to a new outbreak of the plague in early May. Two months ­later, Bernardino de’ Prosperi informed Isabella of the widespread panic in the city, noting that all t­ hose who could do so had left, and that the burial rate was fifty to seventy corpses per day. By the time the marchesa sent her missive to Master Ercole, it was estimated that the number of plague victims in Ferrara had reached 1,500. ­These



P lague and M alaria

included some well-­k nown courtiers, such as the composer Jacob Obrecht (d. 1505), as well as Duke Alfonso d’Este’s favorite African slave.4 Acknowledging ­these extraordinary circumstances, the Marchioness of Mantua was nonetheless clear in expressing her intention to maintain her patronage relationship with Master Ercole as soon as the epidemic abated. Her commissioning works from an artist who had just been released from prison was not exceptional; just a few years e­ arlier, her ­father had hired Boccaccio Boccaccino as his court painter immediately a­ fter his release from the Milanese jail. 5 Isabella’s response to Master Ercole focused on the gold buttons she wished him to forge for her. Fashion in clothing made increasingly extravagant use of sets of gold buttons for members of the Italian elites.6 ­These created a tight fit that emphasized the difference between the silhouettes of ­women and men, but their use was not ­l imited to fastening together two parts of a garment. It was also meant to display the elevated social status of their upper-­class wearers. Decorating the external side of clothes, buttons w ­ ere often regarded as functional ­l ittle jewels. Highly vis­i­ble, they ­were also easily worn out, stolen, or lost, and this created a constant demand for their production.7 Hence, since the late thirteenth ­century manufacturing gold buttons became the bread-­a nd-­butter work of Italian goldsmiths, whose workshops ­were busy turning out eye-­ catching rows of buttons by setting semiprecious stones on them as well as ­etching, filigreeing, enameling, and gilding them. 8 ­A fter receiving Isabella’s request to forge the buttons, Master Ercole did not hear from her for some time. In November 1505, the marchioness gave birth to a second son, the ­f uture cardinal Ercole Gonzaga (1505– 1563).9 By early 1506, the plague had spread to Mantua, and she was busy dealing with its consequences.10 In Ferrara, in contrast, by late 1505 the plague had already abated,11 and Master Ercole resumed his work for Lucrezia Borgia.12 Now officially the Duchess of Ferrara, in 1506 Lucrezia chose “Master Ercole da Sesso, the goldsmith,” as one of her two court goldsmiths, whom she paid from her own pocket.13 Master Ercole received a fixed salary of 15 lire marchesane per month, in addition to payments for specific works that he produced for Lucrezia.14 This was a respectable salary for a nonnoble employee at the Ferrarese court.15 Adding up to an annual salary of 180 lire marchesane, Master Ercole’s wages w ­ ere higher

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Fig. 12. ​A nonymous copy of the presumed portrait of Lucrezia Borgia by Bartolomeo Veneto. Early sixteenth ­century. Musée des Beaux Arts, Nîmes. Photo © Florent Gardin. Reproduced with permission. The jewelry adorning Lucrezia’s hair and attire in this portrait reflects her extensive use of  bejeweled accessories, many of which ­were produced by Salomone / Ercole, her court goldsmith.



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than t­ hose that many of Duke Alfonso d’Este’s clerks and notaries, and even his court trea­surer, received in the first years of the Cinquecento. Indeed, although Lucrezia’s court poet and court painter w ­ ere better paid than the celebrated goldsmith, all but one of her court musicians received lower salaries than his.16 While the extensive correspondence of Isabella d’Este makes it pos­ si­ble to chart the vicissitudes of her complicated patronage relations with the virtuoso goldsmith, this kind of documentation is not available for reconstructing Master Ercole’s ties with Lucrezia Borgia. No letter from Ferrara’s duchess mentioning the artist or his kin, or correspondence from them to Alexander VI’s d ­ aughter, has been unearthed so far. This makes some sense: both the duchess and her court goldsmith lived in Ferrara and thus did not need to discuss the details of the commissions in writing, the way Isabella did when instructing her agents on how to proceed in their negotiations with Master Ercole. Moreover, relatively few of the letters that Lucrezia actually sent or received while residing in Ferrara have survived, a corpus that pales in comparison to the estimated 16,000 letters that Isabella d’Este wrote and the 9,000 or so that w ­ ere addressed to her and that are preserved at the State Archives in Mantua—­ dimensions that surpass the known epistolary legacies of any other ­woman of her ­century.17 Other serious lacunae, resulting from the loss of Ferrarese archival documentation from the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries in subsequent eras, further complicate the attempt to trace Lucrezia’s ties with Salomone / Ercole. For instance, the account books for eight of her fourteen years as Duchess of Ferrara have not survived.18 Thus, while Lucrezia’s account books for 1506–1508 reveal that in ­those years she employed Master Ercole on a permanent basis, it is difficult to ascertain the precise terms of his work for her ­a fter 1509.19 Nevertheless, an extant inventory of Lucrezia’s jewelry, which was drafted by her trea­surer in 1516–1519, attests to the privileged status of Master Ercole’s workshop as the one from which she acquired a particularly large number of luxury objects, and to which she sent pieces of jewelry and accessories to be repaired, in the years preceding her death in June 1519. 20 Although the Duchess of Ferrara remained his primary employer from 1506 u ­ ntil 1519, Salomone / Ercole continued to take up commissions from other members of the Este and Gonzaga courts—­just as he

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had done while serving as court goldsmith to Lucrezia’s pre­de­ces­sor, Eleonora of Aragon, and during his long-­term employment by Duke Ercole d’Este. In 1506–1519, his chief patron, other than Lucrezia, was Isabella d’Este. Following Master Ercole’s timely consignment of the gold buttons that he had made for her, 21 the marchesa tasked Girolamo Ziliolo with convincing him to come to Mantua to discuss the details of a new and more substantial work: an ornate gold container (votto or vuoto). On April 20, 1506, Ziliolo reported back that the goldsmith was in bad health and was therefore unable to undertake this kind of trip. Not wishing to turn down Isabella’s order for a costly commission, the artist offered to send his son Alfonso to Mantua instead.22 As in Ziliolo’s ­earlier reference to Master Ercole’s infirmity, he did not specify the ailment from which he suffered—­suggesting, once again, that it may have been an occupational disease resulting from the metalworker’s continuous exposure to toxic fumes.23 The registers of Lucrezia Borgia’s account book do suggest that Master Ercole endured health prob­lems, which affected his productivity during the spring months of 1506.24 Yet other considerations, too, likely prompted him to delegate the task of traveling to Mantua to his older son. Although eleven years had tran­spired since Isabella’s consort had banished him from Gonzaga lands, he doubtlessly still remembered Marquis Francesco’s warning not to set foot in Mantua ever again. 25 Alfonso departed for Mantua, where he negotiated the terms of the commission with the marchesa. When he returned to Ferrara, Master Ercole’s son went to see Bernardino de’ Prosperi, Isabella’s assiduous correspondent, and handed him a letter from the marchioness.26 Like Girolamo Magnanino, who in 1504–1505 had contacts with the goldsmith and his c­ hildren, Bernardino de’ Prosperi had known them at least since the time of their conversion to Chris­tian­ity.27 On April 27, 1506—­a lmost fifteen years ­a fter describing the baptism of Graziadio / Alfonso, at age nine, in a dispatch to Isabella—­Bernardino reported his encounter with this convert in another missive to the marchesa. Bernardino also informed Isabella about Lucrezia Borgia’s arrangement of the wedding of some of her donzelle, including Alfonso’s ­sister Anna. 28 The marchioness of Mantua was keenly interested in the matchmaking efforts of her sister-­in-­law in Ferrara, and from 1506 to 1508, Bernardino provided her with details about the husbands that Lucrezia



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found for her damsels, often adding his own critical judgment about the matches.29 The d ­ aughters of respectable Ferrarese families who had entered Lucrezia’s ser­v ice in 1502 together with Anna wedded wealthy spouses who w ­ ere their social equals. T ­ hese w ­ ere the relatives of Este courtiers or of other Ferrarese officials, so Bernardino noted their names or ­those of their better-­known kinsfolk, and sometimes also their initial dissatisfaction with the brides that the duchess proposed for them. 30 Anna and Lucrezia’s other formerly Jewish damsel, Violante, both numbered among the very first girls whom the duchess strove to marry off in early 1506—­while ­others ­were only wedded in late 1507 or mid1508. Nonetheless, the two converts could hardly aspire to lofty betrothals to the scions of Ferrara’s social elite. Bernardino still informed Isabella about the weddings of t­ hese donzelle. He did not deem it impor­ tant, however, to specify the names of the husbands who w ­ ere selected for them, nor did he note the prospective spouses’ reaction to the betrothals, since t­ hese ­were not men whose families would have been of interest to the marchioness. Hence, Bernardino merely remarked, on January 6, 1506, that Violante was promised to a paint­er, 31 and on April 27, that on the previous night she moved into the h ­ ouse of her newlywed husband. In this very same letter, Bernardino related that Anna, Master Ercole’s ­d aughter, “was made a bride”; in Anna’s case, he did not even bother to state the bridegroom’s profession. 32 As far as Violante was concerned, the duchess prob­ably had to provide the full sum of her dowry, since no male relative is specified in any of the documents in which her name comes up. As for Anna, Master Ercole may have been asked to assume responsibility for at least part of his d ­ aughter’s dowry. In any case, Lucrezia’s help was instrumental in securing the betrothal of this girl, whose ­father had been convicted of sodomy and of other grave crimes and was just recently released from another bout in prison. In light of her Jewish background and of the skele­tons in her ­father’s closet, Anna’s marital prospects, even to a Christian man who did not belong to the higher echelons of Ferrarese society, ­were rather grim. Indeed, Bernardino’s silence on her husband’s profession (as opposed to his designation of Violante’s spouse as a painter) suggests that despite being the d ­ aughter of a renowned goldsmith and the ­sister of two goldsmiths, Anna did not marry an artist.

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Artists and artisans in Re­nais­sance Italy often married into families headed by a master practicing the same trade.33 Yet the professional prestige of Anna’s f­ather was clearly not enough to counterbalance the stigma attached to his dubious past and render Anna an attractive match for a rising goldsmith, or to any other artist in Ferrara. To make her appealing for a prospective husband, even one from the artisanal class, required a substantial dowry that could be accrued solely with the assistance of Duchess Lucrezia, who not only was committed to helping the damsels in her ser­vice but also admired the artistic virtuosity of Anna’s ­father. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s mention of Anna’s marriage in April 1506 is the last that we hear about Master Ercole’s second ­d aughter, the only one of his five d ­ aughters who is known to have entered marital life. 34 Some of Anna’s more aristocratic fellow damsels—­notably the ­daughters of Nicolò Dalaro and Sigismondo Trotti, Alberto Cantino’s ­sister, and Girolamo Ziliolo’s relative—­were mentioned in Bernardino’s subsequent reports as attending court festivities ­after Lucrezia had married them off. Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter, in contrast, dis­appeared from the historical rec­ord ­a fter her wedding. 35 Having spent four years at Lucrezia Borgia’s palace, surrounded by noblewomen and courtiers, the donzella who was betrothed to a man lacking social distinction or artistic fame sank into oblivion in 1506. Anna’s two ­brothers, however, continue to surface in vari­ous documents from the next fifteen years (and more, in Ferrante’s case). As argued ­earlier, the conversion to Chris­tian­ity of Salomone / Ercole da Sesso had a lasting effect on the lives of all of his ­children, both male and female, opening up opportunities for assimilation into Christian society. Yet, while the course of Anna’s adult life and that of her ­sister Caterina / ­Sister Theodora was ­shaped by baptism no less than the lives of their ­brothers, gender determined the visibility of Master Ercole’s ­children in the historical rec­ord. Like most married w ­ omen of the artisanal and lower-­ middle classes in sixteenth-­century Italy, Anna was confined, ­a fter her marriage, to performing auxiliary chores in the ­family home and perhaps also at a workshop headed by her husband. This kind of ­labor went unrecorded in the payment registers of the ducal court in Ferrara and in the correspondence of Mantua’s marchioness, where the professional activities of Anna’s male siblings, Alfonso and Ferrante—­who, as goldsmiths,



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had dealings with princely patrons—­continued to be amply documented for many years to come. 36 Thus, letters preserved at the State Archives in Mantua reveal that during Alfonso’s visit to Mantua in 1506 he received instructions from Isabella d’Este about the votto that he was to craft for her together with his ­father. ­A fter Alfonso’s return to Ferrara, Master Ercole prepared a model for this work, in keeping with the marchesa’s directives. 37 Alfonso also brought the famous maniglie back to his f­ ather’s workshop, where the two of them had to make some adjustments to the bracelets that Isabella evidently enjoyed wearing. 38 Mending the maniglie was a much easier task than forging them, so this time Isabella’s desire was satisfied without any delays. On May 14, Salomone / Ercole informed her that he had given the maniglie to her envoy in Ferrara, adding that he had had to use some iron strips for reinforcing the lid (coverchio) that closed the bracelets. Although ­these strips ­were hidden from view, the goldsmith was careful to convey that he not only had shown the alteration to Cardinal Ippolito d’Este, “our most reverend monsignor,” but also deemed it impor­tant to mention it to the marchioness, so that “it cannot be claimed that I have given You iron in exchange for gold.”39 Re­nais­sance goldsmiths often used baser metals, sometimes alloyed with silver, in the fabrication of reinforcement wires or rods and for mechanical parts such as buckles, pivots, and hinges.40 That Master Ercole felt the need to account for such use of iron strips may, perhaps, reflect his awareness of the ill repute that he had acquired following the dubious circumstances surrounding his apostasy from Judaism. As already noted, Francesco Gonzaga contended upon the goldsmith’s arrest in 1491 that the latter had cheated him in the production of a gold chain, and in 1495 the marquis once again accused Master Ercole of being a liar. Girolamo Ziliolo’s repeated designations of Salomone / Ercole as deceitful in his correspondence with Isabella a de­cade ­later indicate that the marchesa’s consort was not the only one of her acquaintances to cast a jaundiced eye upon the acclaimed artist. In light of this shady reputation, it is not surprising that in 1506 Master Ercole attempted to assure Isabella that in using iron strips he was not trying to defraud her. The fourth extant missive authored by Salomone / Ercole, then, allows us to recover his efforts to fashion himself as Isabella’s faithful

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servant. Striving to proj­ect an image of a skilled and reliable artist, the goldsmith chose to focus in his dispatch exclusively on ­matters pertaining to the works that Isabella had commissioned from him, and he refrained from mentioning the recent wedding of his ­d aughter Anna. Following his account of the maniglie’s mending, he simply moved on to discuss his preparation of the votto. Referring to a model of the votto that he sent along with his letter, Master Ercole remarked that the marchioness had not specified the precise dimensions of the work, so if he got the size wrong she should let him know and he would make another model for it.41 Isabella, who regularly relied on the exchange of drawings and models in the pro­cess of acquiring luxury goods at long distance, was pleased with his design.42 Shortly ­after receiving it, she assigned the Cremonese goldsmith Giovanni Francesco della Grana (also known as Giovanni Francesco de’ Roberti; fl. c. 1490–1520) to Ferrara with further instructions concerning the votto’s production. By the time Della Grana arrived in Ferrara, though, Master Ercole was very ill, and this time his disease was easily diagnosed as quartan fever.43 Whereas the other, recurrent, health prob­lems that troubled the goldsmith during the first two de­cades of the Cinquecento may have been related to the working conditions of a premodern metalworker, quartan fever struck ­women and men of all occupations and social classes in northern Italy. Due to the marshland conditions in the delta of the Po River, the inhabitants of Ferrara and Mantua and of the surrounding areas, including members of the ruling Houses of Este and Gonzaga, habitually fell ill with malarial fevers in the warm summer months.44 The quartan fever that Master Ercole suffered from was characterized by an intermittent high temperature, and this hindered him from meeting with Della Grana.45 His son Alfonso was therefore the one who discussed the votto’s manufacturing with Isabella’s envoy. Alfonso also showed Della Grana a wax model of the work.46 Not long afterward, on the last day of June 1506, Alfonso and his ­father received the news of S ­ ister Theodora’s demise at the convent of 47 Santa Caterina da Siena. On July 15, Master Ercole sent Isabella d’Este another message, in which he noted the fever that had affected his ability to work and explained that Alfonso had taken over his responsibilities at



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the workshop during his illness. Nowhere in his letter did he mention the death of his eldest ­d aughter.48 Recounting information pertaining solely to his workshop, Salomone / Ercole’s epistolary exchange with Isabella recorded his own activities as a goldsmith as well as t­ hose of his sons, who assisted him in his work, while never even alluding to the existence of his d ­ aughters. Just as he did not report any joy at witnessing Anna on her wedding day in his ­earlier note of May 14, so he did not express any grief about S ­ ister Theodora’s untimely passing in his dispatch of July  15. Addressed to the princely patron who provided him with work, the artist’s missives to Isabella w ­ ere ­shaped by professional considerations alone. As a consequence, the fate of his ­daughters—­who, ­because of their gender, had not been able to pursue a ­career in goldsmithery—­was effectively eliminated from t­ hose sources that allow us to recover Master Ercole’s voice. Although the goldsmith’s silence on the death of his ­daughter should not be taken as an indication of lack of concern for her, it leaves us in the dark about the impact that her demise had on her ­family. The laconic rec­ord of her death in the chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena does not mention its cause. Thus, we also have no way of knowing if ­Sister Theodora suddenly fell ill in June, perhaps as the result of malarial fever,49 or if like many other nuns in early modern Italy she had always been sickly, or had suffered from an under­lying medical condition. 50 It is also impossible to determine ­whether her parents and her siblings got to see the nun one last time before she passed away. By June 1506, the Dominican convent of Santa Caterina da Siena was subject to strict clausura, but Lucrezia Borgia would have been able to intervene in ­favor of her court goldsmith so that he and his ­family could obtain permission to visit ­Sister Theodora at her deathbed. 51 In any case, as the kinsfolk of a choir nun, Master Ercole, his wife, and their c­ hildren would have been allowed to attend S ­ ister Theodora’s funeral. 52 Like monastic vestition and profession, funerals ­were momentous events in Italian religious communities. As the brides of Christ, nuns ­were supposed to live out their lives in the cloister, in preparation for the moment in which they would leave the confines of their bodies to be united with their bridegroom in heaven. Convent funerals, which marked a nun’s transition to eternal life, ­were therefore highly charged

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ceremonies, which involved psalm singing, prayers, and the cele­bration of Mass. 53 S ­ ister Theodora’s formerly Jewish parents participated in the Catholic funerary rite, officiated by a Dominican priest of the nearby friary of Santa Maria degli Angeli, which ended with their ­daughter’s internment within the perimeter of her convent. 54 Fifteen years ­a fter being induced to convert to Catholicism, had Salomone / Ercole and his wife, Eleonora, come to share the belief held by ­Sister Theodora’s fellow nuns, namely, that their d ­ aughter’s physical death signaled a happy ­union with her celestial bridegroom? ­Because the goldsmith himself did not mention his bereavement in the letter that he drafted two weeks l­ ater, and no other extant source rec­ords his attitude ­toward S ­ ister Theodora’s death, or that of his spouse, we have no way of ascertaining if this was indeed the case. What we do know is that shortly ­a fter their d ­ aughter’s funeral, the c­ ouple resumed their daily routines. Master Ercole, debilitated from the lingering effects of quartan fever, returned to his workshop, where he strove to keep up with the flow of ­orders for luxury commodities that he and his sons continued to receive.

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Ferrara at War

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fever kept Master Ercole firmly in Ferrara. Too ill to undertake business trips to other cities, he could not purchase the high-­ quality materials needed for practicing his craft, notably, the rosichiero that he used for enameling. On July 15, 1506, he asked Isabella d’Este to have Francesco della Grana provide him with some rosichiero for finishing the works that he was preparing for her, explaining that bad health prevented him from traveling to Milan to acquire it himself.1 By the time she received his request, though, Isabella was busy dealing with the general crisis caused by the spread of the plague in Mantua, and she did not respond to his demand. As the month of July went by and the Gonzaga domain remained afflicted by the epidemic, she fi­nally de­cided to leave Mantua with her c­ hildren to avoid contagion, and retired to a country villa in Sacchetta. 2 Master Ercole, who may not have been aware of the gravity of the situation in Mantua, worried that the marchioness had other reasons for disregarding his request. In his sixth and last known letter to have been unearthed so far, from August 10, 1506, he sought to assure Isabella that the quartan fever—­and not the priority that he gave to commissions from HE QUARTAN

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Lucrezia Borgia—­had caused the delay in completing her o ­ rders. Interestingly, whereas in his dispatches of May  14 and July  15, 1506, Salomone / Ercole identified himself as the Duchess of Ferrara’s goldsmith, 3 his missive of August  10 was signed “Master Ercole, Your Ladyship’s goldsmith,” and he addressed it to Isabella, referring to her as “my only lady.” 4 This designation is striking, considering the fact that the sender was actually employed as court goldsmith to the Duchess of Ferrara for the entire year of 1506, receiving a monthly salary of fifteen lire marchesane.5 As a salaried goldsmith of Ferrara’s duchess, he was allowed to carry out work for other members of the extended Este f­ amily.6 Yet he was expected to refer to Lucrezia as his principal patron, just as he had previously identified himself as the goldsmith first of Eleonora of Aragon and then of Ercole d’Este. He was certainly not supposed to imply that his primary commitment lay with the Marchioness of Mantua. In light of his problematic conduct vis-­à-­vis aristocratic patrons, it is plausible that the goldsmith resorted to such shady means in yet another attempt to increase his income—or even just to obtain the rosichiero that he desired so badly. As a ­matter of fact, in this very letter Master Ercole once again implored Isabella to provide him with high-­quality rosichiero. Alluding to her ­earlier suggestion that he come to Mantua to discuss the details of the votto’s production, the goldsmith promised Isabella that he would do so as soon as he was physically able to travel again.7 ­A fter regaining his strength, Salomone / Ercole indeed resumed his business trips to destinations beyond the confines of the Ferrarese duchy, but he never set foot in Mantua. 8 Notwithstanding his promise to the marchioness, he was clearly reluctant to return to Gonzaga lands, where the enmity of local Jews had instigated the turn of events leading to his baptism in 1491 and to his banishment from Mantua in 1495. In the last months of 1506 and in 1507, however, Master Ercole remained in Ferrara and continued to work for Lucrezia Borgia.9 The annual salary that he received from the duchess for his work in 1507 totaled only 133 lire marchesane, 1 soldo, and 6 denari10 —­a sum considerably lower than the annual payment of 180 lire marchesane that he got in 1506, and which Lucrezia was to pay him again for his work in 1508.11 Normally, the account books of the Este court listed the global credit of salaried employees for each year, noting the value of ­every monthly stipend mul-



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tiplied by the number of months that would effectively be paid.12 Nonetheless, in the entry recording the yearly payment to Master Ercole in 1507, neither the monthly sum nor the number of months was registered. Nor did the account book state that the goldsmith worked as Lucrezia’s salaried employee for the entire year, as specified in the registers of his salaries for 1506 and 1508, and in the entries recording the annual payments made to the other permanent employees in Lucrezia’s ser­v ice for 1507.13 While we can only speculate about the reasons for ­t hese omissions, it is pos­si­ble that the reduction of Salomone / Ercole’s salary in 1507 reflected Lucrezia’s ­earlier support in providing for the dowry of his ­d aughter Anna in 1506. In any case, the admiration that the goldsmith’s works aroused evidently did not subside in 1507, so when Isabella d’Este visited Ferrara in the course of that year, she became envious of the badges of twisted gold that he had created for her sister-­in-­law, Lucrezia.14 On September 22, the marchioness asked Girolamo Ziliolo to order forty similar badges for her, ­unless he got the impression that the work could not be completed within a reasonable time frame—in which case she wanted him to avoid getting into another long-­d rawn-­out affair with Salomone / Ercole.15 On September 30, Ziliolo confirmed supplying the gold required for creating the badges to Master Ercole’s son Alfonso and promised to see to their speedy delivery.16 This time his efforts proved helpful, b ­ ecause “God willed it” that the badges w ­ ere completed in just a month’s time. On November 1, Ziliolo sent them to Mantua, along with a detailed calculation of the amount owed to Master Ercole for forging them.17 Ziliolo’s correspondence with Isabella discloses the subordinate position of an unemancipated son employed in a workshop headed by his ­father. Alfonso, who in 1505 had endured incarceration as a result of his filial ties, thereafter continued to fill in for his f­ ather whenever the latter was sick or out of town. Alfonso sometimes received the gold required for creating luxury objects or discussed the details of commissions with patrons or with their agents, but Master Ercole was considered responsible for their completion and was also the one who got paid for the workshop’s output.18 Lucrezia Borgia’s account book similarly indicates that over the course of 1508, Master Ercole and his son both collaborated in forging pieces of jewelry for her, yet the twenty-­six-­year-­old Alfonso did not receive any separate payment for his work.19

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Whereas Alfonso was not entitled to a fixed salary from the duchess, his f­ ather’s wages for serving as her court goldsmith in 1508 once again totaled 180 lire marchesane, as they did back in 1506. The debts to the ducal trea­sury that Master Ercole incurred in 1508, however, w ­ ere considerably higher than ­those that he had accumulated in ­either 1506 or 1507.20 Lucrezia’s account books listed the overall debts that salaried court employees accrued in a given year, especially in the payment of customs or taxes, but also for the purchase of food and other supplies from ducal offices.21 In 1508, the goldsmith’s debts to the ducal trea­sury totaled 144 lire marchesane, which equaled 80  ­percent of his annual salary.22 Thus, it is not surprising that he continued to accept commissions from patrons other than Lucrezia. In 1508–1509, Master Ercole forged two swords, now at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna (A 453 and A 454). The swords ­were given by Pope Julius II (r. 1503–1513) to the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (r. 1493–1519) as a gift to mark his admission, together with his grand­son the ­f uture emperor Charles V (in 1519–1556), to the Order of the Knights of St. Peter.23 It has been suggested that Salomone / Ercole found customers in Rome who ordered t­ hese swords from him as a result of the influence that Lucrezia Borgia continued to have in the Eternal City and of her attempts to promote her favorite goldsmith in Roman circles.24 Master Ercole’s fame thus spread far beyond the court cities of Ferrara and Mantua and away from the confines of the Italian Peninsula, consolidating his reputation as one of the leading sword engravers of Re­ nais­sance Eu­rope.25 Not long ­a fter the consignment of the swords, however, shifting po­ liti­cal alliances led Julius II, the so-­called Warrior Pope, to excommunicate Lucrezia’s husband, Duke Alfonso, who insisted on maintaining the House of Este’s traditional pro-­French alliance. Pope Julius placed Alfonso’s ducal capital u ­ nder interdict and waged a war against his state with the intention of removing him from power. Papal forces captured the cities of Modena and Reggio, and the entire Este duchy entered a period of severe economic crisis.26 Both the Duke of Ferrara and its duchess w ­ ere compelled to downsize their salaried staff in order to be able to pay the soldiers in Alfonso’s ser­v ice. Many pieces of the Este silverware ­were melted down, and Lucrezia was forced to pledge a substantial amount of her jewelry to support the war efforts. 27



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The temporary decrease in the volume of her jewelry naturally reduced the workload for Lucrezia’s chief goldsmith, who frequently fixed or adjusted her luxury objects.28 The costly war also resulted in the diminution of the duchess’s annual subsidy, limiting her ability to commission new pieces.29 All t­ hese drove Master Ercole to take up more works for her sister-­i n-­law. Isabella, too, suffered from the turning tides of the Italian Wars. As a ­matter of fact, 1509–1510 had been an intensely trying year for her: Francesco Gonzaga had been captured by the Venetians, and the Mantuan state suffered a grain shortage as a result of continuous warfare in the countryside. A ­ fter the marchesa had successfully negotiated this crisis, though, her consort was once again formally allied with Venice and the papacy. 30 Mantua was ­free from the threat of war, and Isabella was happy to offer work to Lucrezia Borgia’s employees while Ferrara continued to grapple with the financial repercussions of ongoing military conflict. 31 In March 1511, the marchioness entrusted Master Ercole with repairing five “tondi for the headgear” created by another goldsmith. 32 Tondi ­were medallions pinned to men’s caps that ­were highly fash­ion­ able in the early Cinquecento. 33 They ­were closely associated with classicized medals in terms of both their production pro­cess and their ornamentation—­which featured figures, mottoes, or scenes from classical antiquity. Isabella occasionally commissioned vari­ous types of headgear with gold tondi showing classical motifs and gave them as pre­ sents to her son Federico Gonzaga (1500–1540), as well as to other male relatives. 34 The marchesa had the tondi that required mending sent to the Clarissan nun Laura Boiardi, instructing her to have Bernardino de’ Prosperi assign the task to Master Ercole. 35 ­Sister Laura was the carnal s­ ister of Alda Boiardi, Isabella d’Este’s damsel (in 1504–1513); ­d aughter of Count Giulio Boiardi of Scandino; and first cousin of the celebrated humanist and poet Matteo Maria Boiardi (or Boiardo, 1441–1494).36 Widely respected for her erudition and religious devotion, ­Sister Laura served as abbess of the prestigious convent of Corpus Domini ­until 1510, when she transferred to San Bernardino, the new Clarissan h ­ ouse established by Lucrezia Borgia, and became its abbess. Playing a pivotal role in ensuring the implementation of Lucrezia’s vision in San Bernardino,

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­ ister Laura was also careful to maintain an assiduous correspondence S with Isabella d’Este.37 The Marchioness of Mantua trusted the Clarissan abbess and even relied on her aid in transmitting sensitive messages to her sister-­i n-­law in Ferrara. 38 As an aristocratic nun heading an elite convent in pre-­Tridentine Italy, ­Sister Laura was expected to cultivate outside connections that helped to ensure the flourishing of her community. 39 She regularly met with Ferrarese courtiers, including Bernardino de’ Prosperi, who obtained from her—­a nd also passed on—­information from Isabella d’Este.40 In March  1511, Prosperi visited the abbess, and she handed him the old set of tondi that she had received from the marchesa, perhaps through her s­ ister Alda, along with precise instructions on how Master Ercole was to repair them. On March  26, Prosperi informed Isabella: Master Ercole the goldsmith showed me the tondi that Your Ladyship sent ­Sister Laura in order to have them fixed where this is needed, and he says that he does not understand how the threads go b ­ ecause it is a t­ hing made badly and without sense, and if You see fit, [he says] that he w ­ ill make from them [tondi] of a beautiful appearance and that they w ­ ill please You much more than t­ hese do. And ­because ­Sister Laura had entrusted me with urging him to mend them, I asked him to do this, but I do not want to proceed further ­u ntil You give me a reply, as to what I should tell him. He also says that they are too weak.41

Prosperi’s account is intriguing for several reasons. Although not penned by the goldsmith himself, it reports Master Ercole’s utterances that once again disclose his impressive self-­confidence. Our protagonist, who deemed his own creations worthy of being shown to Andrea Mantegna,42 unreservedly expressed his deprecation of a work produced by another goldsmith. Famous for his ­great skill in disegno, he refused to fix medallions whose design he characterized as senseless and whose production he deemed technically flawed. In the very early stages of his c­ areer, Salomone / Ercole collaborated with Ermes Flavio de’ Bonis, who was renowned for the classicized look of his medals. ­A fter his baptism, Master Ercole exhibited his own mas-



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tery of disegno in engraving magnificent swords, some of which featured incised gold medallions with allegorical motifs or figures from the Roman past.43 In 1511, the goldsmith was naturally ­eager to undertake work on tondi that would similarly feature themes from classical antiquity. Aware of Isabella’s high esteem of his artistic virtuosity, he was willing to risk losing the mending job when he boldly insisted that she change the terms of her commission. Although the marchioness was famous for her refined eye in assessing the aesthetic qualities of luxury commodities, she was usually ready to defer to artists’ greater understanding in visual ­matters.44 As Master Ercole had hoped, she heeded to his suggestion to have new tondi prepared instead of getting her old ones fixed.45 Also illuminating is Prosperi’s allusion to a Clarissan nun’s involvement in Isabella d’Este’s patronage relations with the goldsmith. Tellingly, Prosperi mentioned ­Sister Laura again in a missive that was sent along with the new medallions when ­these w ­ ere supplied, less than two months ­later.46 His two letters thus point to the roles that upper-­class religious ­women could assume in patronage pro­cesses that occurred mostly beyond the walls of their enclosed convents and in which they ­were neither the commissioners nor the artists.47 Nuns’ participation in patronage ties in such a capacity seldom surfaces in the historical rec­ord and is often overlooked in studies of religious w ­ omen’s cultural pur48 suits. Indeed, whereas S ­ ister Laura Boiardi has long been known to scholars as the dedicatee of a spiritual tract written by the Franciscan friar Giovanni Francesco da Sarzana, and as the addressee of an epistle recounting the death of Dominican holy ­woman Osanna Andreasi (1449–1505),49 her involvement in the pro­cess of commissioning valuable objects for secular use has hitherto remained unnoticed. ­Sister Laura’s function, in transmitting the requests of Isabella d’Este and in passing on her old gold tondi, resembled that of the lay male agents on whom the marchesa regularly relied for conveying her specifications and delivering raw materials to distant artists or craftsmen. 50 What made Boiardi’s case unique was her religious status. As the abbess of an enclosed nunnery, she could not supervise Master Ercole’s work closely or pressure him to devote his time to Isabella’s tondi by surprising him at his workshop; she had to delegate ­these tasks to Bernardino de’ Prosperi.

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On April 11, the Ferrarese courtier assured Isabella that Master Ercole had already begun preparing the new tondi, 51 but two days l­ ater he conceded that the goldsmith would prob­ably not be able to deliver them before Easter “­because of certain works of gold that he needs to make for the Lady Duchess.”52 Lucrezia Borgia was still pressed for cash, but in the spring of 1511 she and her consort ­were striving to entertain the captains of the French troops, with whom Duke Alfonso allied against the pope, by throwing banquets for them.53 ­Eager to impress the foreign visitors as well as local aristocrats on ­these festive occasions, the Duchess of Ferrara resumed her commissions of dazzling jewelry from Salomone / Ercole. Prosperi went to check on Master Ercole’s pro­gress on April 28. Poignantly, the man who twenty years ­earlier had witnessed the artist’s baptismal ceremony came to his workshop on a Saturday and found him hard at work on Isabella’s tondi. 54 Observing the Sabbath by desisting from work on Saturdays was a primary marker of Jewish identity in Re­ nais­sance Italy, and the law protected Jews from any obligation to conduct business, and also from being summoned to court, on their holy day. Following his apostasy, though, Master Ercole had to adapt to Catholic time or he would have been suspected of reverting to Judaism. 55 The sources at hand document only the goldsmith’s actions. Thus, we have no way of knowing how this conformity to the behavioral expectations of Christian society made him feel, or w ­ hether his adherence to the working practices of his Catholic peers—­which involved repeatedly transgressing the Jewish laws of Sabbath—­a roused any ambivalence in a man who had been induced to convert out of fear for his life. Be that as it may, Salomone / Ercole was once again “impeded by the works for the Lady Duchess” to finish the tondi but by May 12 was already enameling them, and two days ­later Prosperi had the medallions consigned to Isabella. 56 Master Ercole’s tondi could very well have been ­t hose that the marchioness ­later sent her son Federico, who spent two and a half years as a hostage at the papal court. Parenting him from afar, Isabella provided Federico with clothes and accessories that she deemed suitable for the sophistication of the Roman Curia. 57 Her letters to her son from 1512 mention one gold tondo that she had delivered to him, with a scene of Alexander the ­Great cutting the Gordian knot, and another inscribed with the motto “TUTA QUIES,” which showed a sleeping Cupid in a grove of ash trees. As Isabella explained to Federico,



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according to classical authors, ash trees could hold vicious beings such as serpents at bay. 58 This allegorical iconography was certainly in line with the classical scenes that adorned Cesare Borgia’s “Queen of Swords,” but since the tondi in question have not survived, it is not pos­si­ble to compare their style to this or to any of the other cinquedea swords attributed to Master Ercole. 59 That Isabella was pleased with the new hat badges, though, is certain, b ­ ecause in 1512 she commissioned another work from Salomone / Ercole—­this time, a gold lid for her perfume locket, or pomander.60 Believed to provide protection against the plague, gold-­covered pomanders, like other kinds of scented jewelry, became increasingly popu­lar in northern Italy during the Italian Wars. Isabella, who raised musk-­ producing animals and delighted in sending scented gifts to court ­women across Eu­rope, owned several such pomanders, all exquisitely engraved and decorated with precious stones.61 On May 20, 1512, the marchioness sent Girolamo Ziliolo a perfume locket that he was to pass on to Master Ercole “with an order that he make a gold lid for it, made nicely in his style.” As always, she asked Ziliolo to urge the goldsmith “to be swift, so that we have it soon.” 62 Despite Ziliolo’s efforts, however, Salomone / Ercole once again kept Isabella waiting; more than four years ­were to pass before he fi­nally supplied her with the gold lid.63 In the meantime, she continued to commission other works from him, including a small, horn-­shaped gold amulet that he completed in January 1513.64 A month ­later, Julius II passed away, and his successor, the Medici pope Leo X (r. 1513–1521), revoked the papal interdict on Alfonso d’Este’s state. The tension in Ferrara proper fi­nally eased, although two-­thirds of the Este territories, including the impor­tant cities of Modena and Reggio, remained occupied by foreign forces ­until 1530.65 With Lucrezia Borgia’s position at the Ferrarese court now firm—­a fter she had given birth to Duke Alfonso’s two sons—­following Leo X’s ascension to the papal throne she ventured into ambitious patronage proj­ects.66 The duchess rehired the employees whom she had been forced to let off and kept her court goldsmith and his sons, Alfonso and Ferrante, busy with creating, repairing, and adjusting pieces of jewelry and fashion accessories. 67 Absorbed in his numerous works for Lucrezia, Master Ercole neglected the cover of Isabella d’Este’s pomander. In January 1514, more

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than eigh­teen months a­ fter he had accepted this commission, the marchesa asked Ziliolo to retrieve the gold from him.68 Yet, when Ziliolo went to see Salomone / Ercole, he thought it best to leave the gold in his possession. When another year and a half went by, Isabella instructed Ziliolo to find a way to make the goldsmith hand in the work.69 Ziliolo paid another visit to the Ferrarese workshop, but on December 17, 1515, he reported back to Isabella: In compliance with what Your Ladyship wrote me, I have been to the home of Master Ercole the goldsmith, and requested to have [back] Your perfume pomander, with the gold that I had given him. T ­ here I found his work, begun but unfinished, both b ­ ecause of the illness of the aforementioned Master Ercole, which had been lengthy and grave, and ­because he had been busy with some works for the Most Illustrious Duchess. Thus, having found that the work had begun, and with his promise that he finish it without stopping again, moved by pity [mosso da pietà] for his poverty, which is truly very g­ reat, I have not proceeded against him in the manner that he deserves . . . ​that is, by having him spend a few months at the bottom of a tower, but have rather accepted his good intention and the promise that he made me to speed up this aforementioned work of Yours, and with the greatest pos­si­ble celerity. Hence I pray Your Ladyship to also grant him this time limit.70

Born between 1452 and 1457, by December 1515 Master Ercole was at least fifty-­eight years old and was most likely already over sixty.71 In the sixteenth ­century, when the overall life expectancy was around thirty, and even t­ hose who survived childhood usually did not live past the age of fifty, he was considered an old man.72 In more than three de­cades of work by the furnace, the goldsmith had been inhaling the dangerous fumes that developed from nitric acid, coal, and vari­ous metals.73 Gilding with gold amalgams exposed him to the health prob­lems resulting from ­handling mercury, and the frequent use of lead rendered him susceptible to the afflictions caused by its poisoning. Aging goldsmiths often suffered from the long-­term effects of ­these occupational ­hazards.74 Two centuries l­ater, the Italian Bernardino



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Ramazzini (1633–1714) even went as far as affirming that when goldsmiths do not die young, “their health is so terribly undermined that they pray for death.”75 The recurrent mentions of Master Ercole’s ailments in the correspondence pertaining to Isabella d’Este’s commissions in the first two de­cades of the Cinquecento suggest that his health, too, may have been damaged by many years of intensive work as a goldsmith. The unhealthy conditions in Ferrara’s damp prisons, in which he had spent time in 1491 and again in 1505, prob­ably aggravated his frailty, making him more susceptible to illness in subsequent years.76 Girolamo Ziliolo did not describe the symptoms of the malady that confined Salomone / Ercole to bed in 1515, but he stressed its long duration, as well as its severity. As we saw ­earlier, during the protracted negotiations concerning Isabella’s maniglie in 1504–1505, Ziliolo did not share Girolamo Magnanino’s sympathy for Master Ercole, to whom he repeatedly referred as a vile, dishonest man who deserved to be imprisoned ­because of his failure to observe the terms of his work for the marchesa.77 In 1515, by contrast, Ziliolo refrained from disparaging the artist’s character and was willing to accept “his good intention” without questioning his sincerity, beseeching Isabella to do the same. Back in 1504, Ziliolo expressed a host of negative feelings ­toward Master Ercole, ranging from shame and embarrassment to anger and mitigated only thanks to the exquisiteness of the unfinished maniglie.78 Yet eleven years l­ ater, the only emotion aroused in Ziliolo by his encounter with the talented artist was pietà—­that is, pity, or compassion, for his wretched state. If in 1504 Ziliolo could reproach Salomone / Ercole for the pre­ce­ dence that he gave to Lucrezia Borgia’s o ­ rders, he obviously refrained from d ­ oing so in 1515. By then, Lucrezia’s standing as the Duchess of Ferrara was firmly secured, and as her court goldsmith, Master Ercole’s prior commitment to her could not be called into question. Ziliolo merely informed Isabella that the goldsmith had been busy with his works for her sister-­in-­law and that this, on top of his lengthy and grave infirmity, kept him from concentrating on the marchesa’s pomander. Whereas both Master Ercole’s work for Lucrezia and his health prob­ lems had been invoked previously as the reasons for delays in consigning Isabella’s jewelry, up ­u ntil 1515 neither her agents nor the goldsmith himself referred to his precarious financial situation. Indeed,

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Ziliolo’s missive of December 1515 was the earliest of three letters attesting to the goldsmith’s dwindling finances. When first noting Master Ercole’s destitution, the Ferrarese courtier explained that he did not proceed against the tardy artist b ­ ecause visiting his home convinced him that his poverty was “truly very ­g reat.”79 The renowned goldsmith, we may recall, had already incurred substantial debts in the early stages of his artistic c­ areer. Moreover, despite his efforts to secure marital dowries for his d ­ aughters in subsequent years, the only one of the five to be wedded did so with Lucrezia Borgia’s aid, while another entered a convent thanks to Ercole d’Este’s support; his three other ­d aughters remained unmarried, doubtlessly due to the lack of funds required for amassing respectable dowries for them. Thus, we can see that although conversion to Chris­tian­ity opened up new work opportunities that had not been available to him as a Jew and also carried notable f­ avors from Ferrara’s ducal f­ amily, it did not ensure an upward social mobility for Salomone / Ercole’s ­family. Indeed, whereas other artists and artisans who worked for Ferrara’s ducal f­ amily in the sixteenth ­century ­were able to hoard considerable wealth, 80 this was evidently not the case with our protagonist. Although Re­nais­sance goldsmiths could become quite rich, natu­ral talent was not enough to make a goldsmith prosper. To succeed financially, an established artist also had to manufacture quality products in a cost-­efficient manner, to negotiate wisely with vendors and patrons, and to invest his profits sensibly. 81 Master Ercole’s apparent inability to ameliorate his f­ amily’s economic standing contrasts sharply with the widespread admiration that the luxury objects manufactured in his workshop continued to attract for more than two and a half de­cades. Could this notable discrepancy merely reflect the lagging of his administrative and managerial skills far b ­ ehind his artistic genius? Or could it be that the same reason that led his ­mother not to designate him as her universal heir in 1485—­because of the substantial debts that she had already covered for him—­was what lay b ­ ehind Master Ercole’s eventual failure to attain financial stability?82 Extant sources allow us to catch a glimpse of the goldsmith toiling in his workshop, but we do not get to read about how the money that he earned for his hard work was actually spent. Nonetheless, in light of his occasional recourse to shady activities, it is perhaps pos­si­ble to surmise



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that some of his profits w ­ ere lost on gambling or on other unsavory pursuits. What­ever the case, that he did not succeed in saving enough of his profits to fall back on in hard times is evident by the documented deterioration of his f­ amily’s financial situation during the crisis years brought on by continuous warfare in the Duchy of Ferrara. We do know that Master Ercole actually tried to plan ahead and pursue a ­family strategy that would prove eco­nom­ically beneficial for his ­house­hold. Heeding con­temporary expectations from established artists, he imparted his expertise to his two sons, thereby seeing to their professional formation as prac­ti­tion­ers of goldsmithery, which was considered an elite trade. This was supposed to result in notable economic advantages for all three of them: enabling the f­ather to rely on their work during their training years to increase his workshop’s productivity, without having to reduce the number of his other apprentices; allowing the sons to matriculate as master goldsmiths at reduced fees; and sparing them the need to purchase the costly equipment required for opening their own workshops.83 The outbreak of war, however, turned this potentially advantageous plan into a financial calamity ­because it led to a sharp decrease in the demand for luxury commodities. 84 This decline now had a direct impact not only on the ­father but also on his two adult sons, whose earnings w ­ ere similarly derived from the production of opulent accessories. Master Ercole’s own wages had been affected by Lucrezia Borgia’s payroll prob­lems during the war, but even a­ fter the duchess resumed paying the regular salaries of her court employees, he was worse off than he had been before 1509. This was ­because the economic repercussions of the prolonged military conflict made it difficult for local clients, other than the duchess, to spend considerable sums on finery. At the same time, the number of mouths that had to be fed with the profits from the f­ amily workshop was constantly on the rise, since by late 1515 Graziadio / Alfonso was already a ­father, and his wife and ­children, too, lived off the goldsmiths’ earnings. 85 As Master Ercole’s descent into poverty reveals, planning ahead and even adopting a f­ amily strategy aimed at ensuring the continuation of the patriline could not shield a head of h ­ ouse­hold from the catastrophic repercussions of warfare in the early modern era. Having failed to invest his profits prudently in better times—­plausibly ­because of his penchant

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for games of chance—­advanced age and frail health, combined with the continuous growth of his ­family, further impeded the goldsmith’s ability to cope with the ongoing crises brought on by the Italian Wars. Warfare, ill health, and the need to support numerous dependents each constituted a potential cause for downward social mobility in the cities and towns of early modern Eu­rope.86 In Salomone / Ercole’s case, the combination of t­ hese ­factors proved disastrous. Ziliolo’s commiseration with the sickly goldsmith who was reduced to penury in December 1515 signals the onset of the morose, final period of the virtuoso artist’s life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Glitter and Grief

G

Z ILIOLO convinced Isabella d’Este to allow Master Ercole some extra time for finishing the gold lid for her perfume locket. On March 9, 1516, the marchesa asked him to urge the goldsmith to hurry up.1 The faithful agent set out on another visit to the workshop, recounting its outcome three days l­ ater: IROLAMO

In compliance with Your Ladyship’s letters, I was once again with Master Ercole, and gave him to understand that for having never finished Your perfume pomander, it w ­ ill be necessary to have him incarcerated, and I would have certainly done this [imprisoned him], but I believe this w ­ ill bring about the ruin of his f­ amily, and perhaps also of his life, b ­ ecause he had been sick for a long time and has also not recovered well and ­every ­l ittle flurry ­w ill knock him to the ground. I still wanted to see the aforementioned pomander with that gold [cover] in its current state, and I saw that the ­t hing is in a pretty good stage [of pro­gress] and made perhaps better than the best, and certainly once the work is completed it ­w ill be 221

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elegant, and I ­will not cease to urge him so that he finishes it. It did not seem to me [right] to take the t­ hing [away from him] in such an incomplete stage. . . . ​But if it seems to You that I should rather have it retrieved as I currently find it and send it to You, I s­ hall very willingly oblige. 2

Four months a­ fter he had first informed Isabella of Master Ercole’s recovery from a prolonged and serious ailment, Ziliolo noted that the goldsmith was still physically unwell. As in December 1515, the Ferrarese courtier refrained from naming the illness from which the goldsmith was having such difficulty recuperating. He did, however, remark that a bout in prison might hasten Master Ercole’s death—an affirmation that bears witness to the harsh conditions of incarceration in sixteenth-­ century Ferrara, as well as to contemporaries’ awareness of the negative effect that they w ­ ere likely to have on the health of detained individuals. Although the delay in consigning the pomander was a violation of the extension that Ziliolo had agreed to grant the artist and could thus justify his arrest as a means of pressuring him to complete the work, Isabella’s envoy thus de­cided against it. 3 Even if imprisonment would not bring about his demise, Ziliolo assumed that it would lead to the complete financial ruin of the goldsmith’s ­family—­hinting, once again, at their penury. In 1516, not only Eleonora, Master Ercole’s wife, and their younger son Ferrante but also the three unmarried d ­ aughters who ­were living with them depended on the workshop’s profits. So did the ­couple’s older son, Alfonso, his wife, Sapientia,4 and their (at least two, and prob­ably more) young c­ hildren. 5 Although both Alfonso and Ferrante worked alongside their f­ ather in the ­family workshop, it seems from Ziliolo’s comment that Master Ercole’s ­labor was still deemed crucial for the extended ­family’s survival. His per­sis­tent health prob­lems had already exacerbated the ­family’s financial situation. An incarceration that—­even if it did not kill him—­ would further aggravate his physical condition, on top of keeping him away from the furnace for the duration of his detention, would amount to a deathblow to his dependents. Ziliolo assured Isabella that he did threaten Master Ercole with arrest, but the ailing goldsmith’s reaction is not recorded. We can only guess how the thought of enduring yet another stint in jail must have



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made him feel, but it evidently led him to dedicate more time to Isabella’s pomander, which was ready a few months l­ ater. As always, the marchioness was pleased with the result. She praised the artist for his deftness on August 11, 1516, and l­ ater ordered another gold book cover from him.6 The el­derly artist gradually regained his strength and in 1517 was again hard at work in the ser­vice of Lucrezia Borgia, who embarked on a concerted campaign to redeem the finery that she had been forced to pawn during the years of Ferrara’s war with the papacy.7 Master Ercole adjusted and repaired a gold chain and several rings for her and also produced many new enameled gold accessories, including fans and decorations for headdresses, ­belts, and collars, as well as cuff bracelets.8 In addition, he manufactured decorations for Lucrezia’s zibellino—­a pelt of sable, with the mammal’s feet and head attached and adorned with gold and precious stones, which was a prized fashion accessory in the courts of northern Italy.9 The inventory of Lucrezia Borgia’s jewelry shows that in 1517 she also employed Master Ercole’s older son, Alfonso. The latter’s identification as “Master Alfonso the goldsmith” without designating him as his ­father’s son, as had been the case in the e­ arlier registers recording his work for the duchess,10 indicates that the thirty-­five-­year-­old Alfonso was at long last legally emancipated.11 He produced cord ­belts for the duchess and also a pair of maniglie, which she ­later bestowed upon a Spaniard whom she wished to impress. In addition, Master Alfonso molded sets of gold buttons that the duchess gave to his godfather, Duke Alfonso d’Este.12 Master Ercole’s younger son, Ferrante, was also mentioned in Lucrezia’s inventory, bearing the honorific appellation of a master craftsman. Nonetheless, Ferrante was only named in one entry, which referred to a work done in tandem with his f­ ather: the remaking of a gold h ­ andle for one of Lucrezia’s small fans, which Master Ercole had dismantled.13 Serving practical hygienic needs as well as the requirements of decorum, such small fans w ­ ere at the height of courtly fashion in the early sixteenth ­century, and Lucrezia occasionally bequeathed them to members of her entourage.14 The duchess also took it upon herself to assist her damsels in obtaining magnificent jewelry to complete their wedding finery. And so, more than a de­cade ­after she had helped to marry off Master Ercole’s own

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­ aughter Anna, who had been her donzella for four years, Lucrezia relied d on the goldsmith’s expertise for ensuring the spectacular appearance of the bridal attire of Angela Valla, one of her aristocratic damsels.15 Angela’s wedding was scheduled to take place in February 1518, during the pre-­Lenten carnival festivities that the duchess or­ga­nized ­every year, and Master Ercole was entrusted with preparing jewelry pieces for the bride.16 Some of the works that Lucrezia commissioned from Master Ercole ­were also intended for the use of her beloved f­ amily members, notably for her ­d aughter Eleonora d’Este (1515–1575) and for Giovanni Borgia (1498–1548), also known as “the Roman Infant” (“L’infante romano”), who was prob­ably her illegitimate son.17 During the second de­cade of the Cinquecento, while living in Ferrara as a Borgia youth of murky origins, Giovanni received special attention from the duchess, who bestowed costly gifts on him. ­These included a gold medal, produced by Master Ercole, for Giovanni’s truncated conical hat (beretta).18 Lucrezia’s goldsmith was hesitant when Girolamo Ziliolo approached him with a request to prepare new cuff bracelets for Isabella d’Este, a reticence most likely related to his heavy workload. To convince him to undertake this work, the Marchioness of Mantua instructed her agent not to insist on a par­tic­u­lar date for consigning it. Uncharacteristically, she also advised Ziliolo to refrain from exerting any kind of pressure on Master Ercole.19 ­Because Lucrezia’s commissions from him did not diminish in the following months, he could hardly devote any time to Isabella’s order, though. 20 Master Ercole was the only goldsmith whose works for Ferrara’s duchess in 1518 ­were so numerous that they ­were grouped together and listed separately in her inventory. 21 Among the pieces that he made for her ­were gold accessories, some of which ­were done in what was considered to be an oriental style, while ­others ­were sent out to tailors and embroiderers who attached them to the garments of Lucrezia and her d ­ aughter Eleonora.22 Acknowledging his familiarity with the material culture of ancient Rome and especially of its funerary inscriptions, the duchess further tasked Master Ercole with preparing a fan h ­ andle with 23 an attached decoration “in the form of an epitaph.” Lucrezia continued to employ Master Alfonso, who in 1518 mended the chain attaching the head of her jeweled sable.24 Both ­father and son ­were then charged with completing a pair of maniglie, adorned with beads



G litter and G rief

of gold thread “enameled with white and red”—­t wo of the colors of the House of Este—­w ith letters to form the word “Amen.”25 Once again, we find Master Ercole producing works that displayed the piety of his ducal patron, as he had when forging relic tabernacles and an incense container for Duke Ercole d’Este more than a de­cade ­earlier. The maniglie prepared by the neophyte and his son formed part of the sacred jewelry that Lucrezia used to don but also to hand out as gifts, as a means of manifesting her wealth, refinement, and piety. 26 With so much work for the duchess, Salomone / Ercole’s pro­g ress with the new cuff bracelets that he had agreed to forge for Isabella was very slow. On April 19, 1518, Ziliolo reminded the marchioness that she had granted Master Ercole the liberty to take his time with the piece, adding that the goldsmith’s poverty contributed to his work pace.27 This was the third time since December 1515 that Ziliolo alluded to the artist’s economic difficulties, indicating that Master Ercole never managed to overcome the deterioration in his financial standing resulting from the military conflict in the Este duchy and the ever-­growing number of ­family members who depended on his workshop’s earnings for their sustenance. The repeated and sympathetic mentions of his destitution make it clear that just as Master Ercole’s long-­term employment, first by Eleonora of Aragon and then by Ercole d’Este, did not secure his economic stability in the fourteen years following his apostasy, so his ongoing work as Lucrezia’s court goldsmith was not enough to prevent his f­ amily’s descent into penury during the second de­cade of the sixteenth ­century. Despite his relentlessly dwindling fortunes, Master Ercole’s artistic creations continued to stun viewers not only in the court cities of Ferrara and Mantua but also north of the Alps. In November 1518, Alfonso d’Este left for France, attempting (in vain) to facilitate the restitution of Reggio and Modena to the Este duchy with the help of King Francis I (r. 1515–1547).28 Giovanni Borgia was to join the duke in Paris, where Lucrezia hoped that her husband would help him to obtain a post at the French court.29 As Giovanni was getting ready to depart from Ferrara, Lucrezia gave him several works of gold, made by Master Ercole and Master Alfonso, which Giovanni was to pre­sent as gifts to the king of France. ­These included an enameled gold chain created by Master Ercole, as well as a large gold button “made by Master Alfonso, and the six

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buttons made by him and by Master Ercole, his f­ ather.”30 In Re­nais­sance Eu­rope, ornate gold buttons of this kind ­were regarded as the equivalent of small jewels and w ­ ere esteemed as prized accessories. 31 Gift bestowal constituted an impor­tant aspect of public life in sixteenth-­century France, and it was instrumental in the movement of royal appointments and ­favors. 32 Aware of its pivotal place in alliances and advancements, Ferrara’s duchess put her trust in the dazzling pieces created by Master Ercole and Master Alfonso, hoping that Giovanni Borgia would be able to impress the French king with their exquisiteness. The endeavors to obtain a sinecure for Giovanni came to naught,33 but it is certainly instructive that Lucrezia wanted him to pre­ sent the king of France with objects produced in the ­family workshop of her court goldsmith, whose magnificent creations had already been used in the pursuit of Ferrara’s pro-­French diplomacy during Ercole d’Este’s reign. 34 Significantly, while Master Ercole and Master Alfonso are both listed as the goldsmiths responsible for Giovanni Borgia’s gifts to the king of France, this is the first time that Ercole is designated as Alfonso’s f­ ather, and not the other way around.35 The reversal in mention of their kinship ties broadcasts Master Alfonso’s rising importance as a goldsmith. In early 1519, his ­father left Ferrara, and Alfonso took his place as the chief producer of luxury objects for the duchess.36 Alfonso, who had converted to Chris­tian­ity at the age of nine, now provided Lucrezia with gold decorations to be attached to a corporal for the cele­bration of the Eucharist, as well as with paternoster beads of beaten gold. 37 Made of precious materials, such beads w ­ ere commonly worn on the necks or attached to the ­belts of affluent ladies wishing to publicly display their religious devotion. 38 Master Alfonso’s most impressive piece, however, was a secular work, namely, a small fan that he made for the duchess. The fan is erroneously attributed in modern scholarship to “one Alfonso Veronese.”39 Nonetheless, it is clearly identified in Lucrezia Borgia’s jewelry inventory as “a small fan newly made by Master Alfonso the goldsmith [Alfonso orevexe], that is the body made of beaten gold, stamped with flowers with a small square on each side and in the ­middle, worked with thread with pastiglia, and the ­handle also of beaten gold, surrounded by black ostrich feathers.” 40



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By the time he was thirty-­seven years old, then, Master Ercole’s older son apparently fulfilled his f­ ather’s hopes of establishing himself as an accomplished master goldsmith, and Lucrezia was happy to entrust him with works of sacred and secular jewelry alike. A missive that Girolamo Ziliolo drafted on March 19, 1519, indicates that by that time Isabella’s agent also deemed Alfonso’s artistic skills to be equal, if not superior, to ­those of his f­ ather. Referring to yet another commission of gold buttons from the Ferrarese workshop, Ziliolo informed the marchesa:41 I have received Your Excellency’s letter, together with the [sample] button, from your h ­ orse­man, and I have understood that which You entrust me with. I sent for Alfonso the son of Master Ercole the goldsmith, ­because he himself is not in the area, and conveyed Your Illustrious Ladyship’s desire to him, and gave him the sample button, and in the most skillful manner within my power, I exhorted, or rather obligated him to do that which you order, in a way that he promised me to serve [You]. . . . ​A nd even though he is young, I assure Your Excellency that his work does not fall short of his f­ ather’s, and perhaps he even excels in it more.42

In referring to Alfonso as a young man whose work was not inferior to that of his ­father, Ziliolo may have been hinting at Master Ercole’s advanced age. Having already stressed the effect of the el­derly ­father’s frail health on his ability to carry out Isabella’s commissions in his ­earlier reports to her, he now insinuated that Alfonso was a young and presumably healthier, yet no less reliable, alternative. As Ziliolo was well aware, the Marchioness of Mantua was familiar with Alfonso, who in 1504– 1505 had collaborated in the manufacturing of her cuff bracelets and in 1506 came to Mantua to discuss the details of another commission with her. In subsequent years, Ziliolo and Isabella’s other correspondents informed her of their dealings with Alfonso, whenever his ­father was bedridden or absent from Ferrara. Nonetheless, Isabella never expressed her appreciation of Alfonso’s individual talent. Although in 1505 she praised both “Master Ercole and his son” for their elegant work,43 she clearly did not regard Alfonso as a goldsmith who was “very able and refined in his craft,” 44 as she had characterized his ­father back in 1491, when the latter’s age was about the same as that of Alfonso in 1519.

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In the response that she sent Ziliolo on March 22, Isabella agreed to assign the buttons to “the son of Master Ercole.” Significantly, she continued to identify Alfonso solely as his ­father’s son, without noting his own name.45 Yet, when Alfonso consigned the buttons on time, Ziliolo once again went out of his way to praise him to Isabella. Referring to him as “the Master,” Ziliolo remarked that he had been working around the clock in order to serve Isabella “with the velocity that she desired.” 46 ­Here, too, we may detect an attempt to contrast the efficient and punctual son with his notoriously sluggish f­ ather. On March 29, 1519, the very day in which Ziliolo sent a rider to Mantua with Master Alfonso’s buttons, Isabella’s consort succumbed to the syphilis he had contracted years e­ arlier. In his testament, Francesco Gonzaga proclaimed his nineteen-­year-­old son, Federico, his successor, but nominated Isabella as l­egal regent for him u ­ ntil he reached age 47 twenty-­t wo. In the next few months, Isabella was busy with the reor­ga­ ni­za­tion of Mantua’s chancery and court,48 and she did not find the time to acknowledge receipt of the gold buttons. Ziliolo realized that Francesco’s demise was the reason for her prolonged silence, but when two more weeks tran­spired he wrote to her again, asking for a confirmation that the buttons had reached their destination.49 On April 18, 1519, Isabella assured Ziliolo that she was satisfied with the buttons, adding that she was still interested in the maniglie that she had ordered from Master Ercole, and explained: “Since perhaps you are wondering if we no longer desire the maniglie that we had you commission, now that we find ourselves in this w ­ idow’s habit, it seems to us [appropriate] to assure you that you should not cease, b ­ ecause of this, to demand them and to have them completed as soon as is pos­si­ble.”50 Like previous life-­c ycle changes, the transition into widowhood that she designated with the metonymic expression “­w idow’s habit” did not prompt a restriction in the marchesa’s acquisition habits. 51 Isabella had already distinguished herself in memorable mourning outfits when her ­mother passed away in 1493 and again in 1505, when her ­father died. 52 Her consort’s demise now enabled her to purchase a wardrobe to suit her new status as a ­widow. Isabella had no intention of retiring to a convent, a choice that other aristocratic ­w idows in northern Italy opted for. Instead, she hoped to maintain her international standing as a trendsetter in clothes and accessories.53 Ziliolo promised her that he would see to the rapid conclusion of the maniglie. 54



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Two months ­later, on June 24, Isabella’s sister-­in-­law Lucrezia Borgia died from childbirth complications, at the age of thirty-­nine. 55 Her untimely passing deprived Master Ercole of his chief employer, and of the stable income that he had received for much of the past thirty-­t wo years as court goldsmith, first to Duchess Eleonora of Aragon, then to Duke Ercole d’Este, and fi­nally to Duchess Lucrezia. Duke Alfonso d’Este, unlike his ­father, did not take his consort’s favorite goldsmith ­under his wing upon her death. 56 In 1519, the duke’s own financial resources w ­ ere quite exhausted due to his ongoing involvement in the Italian Wars, and in the years following Lucrezia’s demise he had to let go of quite a few of his salaried employees.57 Economic considerations alone, however, cannot account for the difference between Duke Ercole and his son. Another reason for this was that Alfonso d’Este evidently did not share the high esteem in which his parents, his siblings, and his second wife all held Master Ercole’s artistic virtuosity. Unlike t­ hese other members of his f­ amily, Alfonso commissioned only a few works from Master Ercole and his sons over the years.58 Yet this, too, does not fully explain Alfonso’s indifference to the fate of Salomone / Ercole and his ­children, one of whom was his own godson. It is certainly instructive that, in contrast to the conversionary mea­sures ­adopted by his parents—­who favored the pardoning of convicted Jews in return for their baptism, or­ga­nized lavish baptismal ceremonies for Jews who agreed to convert, and offered them and their offspring positions in their household—­Duke Alfonso did not manifest a par­tic­u­lar interest in facilitating conversions from Judaism. 59 Moreover, although in 1491 he had participated in the baptismal ceremony staged by his m ­ other, Alfonso d’Este subsequently backed neither the ex-­Jew Graziadio, who had been christened Alfonso in his honor, nor his ­father. Alfonso d’Este’s ready compliance with his ­sister’s demands to terrorize Salomone / Ercole in 1504–1505, by threatening to smash the goldsmith’s creations and imprisoning him in the midst of winter, even suggests that he was unfavorably disposed ­toward his parents’ prized convert. Duke Alfonso’s willingness to throw his godson into jail along with his ­father for several weeks, not long ­a fter his own ascension to the ducal throne, further supports this hypothesis. No won­der, then, that when Lucrezia passed away the duke did not take steps to prevent the final descent of Master Ercole and Master Alfonso into utter indigence, by appointing them as his court goldsmiths.

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Gold Pawned to the Jews

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A LFONSO’S ­brother Cardinal Ippolito d’Este returned to Ferrara in March 1520. The cardinal had long been appreciative of Master Ercole’s talent. Nonetheless, he did not hire goldsmiths as permanent stipendiaries and only paid them for specific works by means of casual contracts.1 While his reappearance at the Este ducal capital may have helped Master Ercole and Master Alfonso to receive some commissions for luxury items for which they ­were paid “on the spot,” it could not entirely reverse the financial catastrophe brought on by Duchess Lucrezia’s death. 2 Their f­ amily’s meager means of subsistence deteriorated even further when Cardinal Ippolito perished unpredictably on September  3, 1520, following an attack brought on by the overconsumption of grilled crayfish. 3 Isabella d’Este now remained their main patron. Still awaiting the completion of her new maniglie, she had Girolamo Ziliolo provide Salomone / Ercole with a balas ruby for adorning the cuff bracelets and with forty-­eight ducats’ worth of gold, which he was to melt down and use for unspecified works and for another set of gold buttons for her. The aging artist divided the gold among himself and his sons, Alfonso and FerUKE

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rante, and they all started working on the commissions. Before the pieces w ­ ere completed, though, the f­ amily’s financial situation became so unbearable that the three resorted to a desperate, and ultimately disastrous, step. With two-­t hirds of the Este duchy still occupied, the demand for luxury objects in Ferrara and its vicinity remained very low in the early 1520s, and the payments that Master Ercole and his sons received from Isabella—­mostly for minor works, such as gold buttons—­d id not stretch to feed the fourteen members of their f­ amily. The three goldsmiths, who in the second de­cade of the Cinquecento produced opulent commodities such as bejeweled ermine furs and ostrich-­feathered gold fans, by 1521 could not find the means to provide the victuals for themselves and for Master Ercole’s wife, three nubile ­d aughters, daughter-­i n-­law, and six grandchildren. In urgent need of cash, they pledged Isabella’s unfinished works and her balas ruby at a Jewish pawnshop. Master Ercole and Master Ferrante then departed from the region to seek work elsewhere, leaving Master Alfonso in charge of the workshop in Ferrara.4 Now Isabella d’Este herself relied on the ser­vices provided by Jewish pawnbrokers throughout her adult life. Her frequent pledging of balas rubies and other valuables to Jewish moneylenders in vari­ous northern Italian cities and towns, in order to obtain loans for substantial sums, is well documented.5 The Jews r­ unning the pawnshop that received the unfinished pieces from Salomone / Ercole—­whose frequent work for Isabella was common knowledge—­easily divined their provenance. Master Ercole’s former coreligionists (whose identity is not revealed in extant sources) rightly assumed that the half-­finished gold works and the balas ruby belonged to the Marchioness of Mantua, and duly had her notified. Goldsmiths employed in the ser­vice of princely rulers ­were occasionally accused of embezzlement during the years of economic crisis brought on by the Italian Wars.6 Nonetheless, it could hardly have been a coincidence that the transgression committed by Master Ercole and his sons was discovered following their recourse to a pawnshop operated by Jews. Three de­cades ­a fter his Jewish enemies had incriminated him in a grave offense, pushing him to convert along with his wife and ­children and provoking a rancor that led to his subsequent banishment from Mantua, the enmity between Salomone / Ercole and his erstwhile coreligionists evidently had not entirely dissipated. In 1521, it prompted the

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Jewish pawnbrokers with whom he and his sons pledged Isabella’s valuables to expose their delinquency. Isabella was not amused. Neither Master Ercole nor Master Ferrante could be found in Mantua or Ferrara, but she insisted that her b ­ rother, Duke Alfonso, have Master Alfonso thrown into jail. The duke’s godson was arrested in late January 1521 and spent the entire month of February freezing in an unheated chamber of the Ferrarese prison.7 This time around, Alfonso was not treated as his f­ ather’s proxy but was punished as one of three men guilty of abusing Isabella’s trust by pledging her valuables. He was supposed to remain in jail ­u ntil he paid his pecuniary penalty but could not come up with the required sum ­because the f­ amily workshop did not generate any income while he was imprisoned and his f­ ather and b ­ rother stayed away from Ferrara, presumably to avoid their own arrest. When detained prisoners failed to produce their fines, their incarceration could last for a long time, even years. 8 Alfonso had lingered in prison for several weeks, and Master Ercole and Master Ferrante did not send the ­family any money that could facilitate his liberation. Unable to raise the sum on their own, Alfonso’s desolate m ­ other and wife resolved to address a supplication (supplica) to Isabella d’Este.9 Early modern supplications ­were letters requesting ­favors, privileges, or any other form of grace from state authorities. In central and northern Italy, they w ­ ere regularly sent by f­ amily members, friends, or patrons of imprisoned culprits and asked for the mitigation of their penalties.10 First discovered in the late nineteenth ­century, the supplication drafted at the behest of Alfonso’s ­mother, Eleonora, and his wife, Sapientia, was discussed briefly in Angelo Angelucci’s cata­log of the Royal Armory in Turin in 1890. The document was of interest to Angelucci and to l­ ater art historians primarily b ­ ecause of its designation of Alfonso’s ­father as “Master Ercole de’ Fideli” (Hercule de Fideli). This has made pos­si­ble Master Ercole’s identification as the engraver of one of the best-­ known cinquedea swords, which was signed “Hercules de’ Fidelis,” and consequently also of several other swords that ­were signed “Opus Herculis” and stylistically resembled it.11 Scholars have hitherto relied on the partial extracts of the supplication that Angelucci cited, without consulting the original document or



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Fig.  13. ​Supplication sent on behalf of Salomone / Ercole’s wife, Eleonora, and his daughter-­in-­law, Sapientia, to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521. Photo by the author. Archivio di Stato di Mantova, Archivio Gonzaga, busta 1247, fasc. XVII, c. 395. Reproduced with permission.

the other archival sources recording Master Ercole’s professional activities in 1518–1521. Hence, it has been presumed that the virtuoso artist was already dead by March 1521, which is why his wife and daughter-­in-­law had to send the supplication, and also why Alfonso was the one thrown

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into jail and not his wayward f­ ather.12 The original text of the supplica, however, makes it clear that Master Ercole and Master Ferrante w ­ ere both alive, yet remained out of town. As a detained prisoner, Master Alfonso could address a supplication to the marchesa himself.13 Nonetheless, a supplica from Eleonora and Sapientia may have been deemed more likely to provoke the compassion of Isabella, who was known to intervene in ­favor of w ­ omen and ­children in precarious situations.14 The 1521 supplication is the first and only known document to explic­itly mention Eleonora, who must have been in her early sixties at that time.15 In contrast with the baptismal ceremony of her husband and her eldest son, Eleonora’s baptism did not feature in the accounts of her ­family’s conversion that w ­ ere penned in Ferrara in 1491. Nor was her name recorded in any of the ­later documents pertaining to the fate of her ­children, including her ­d aughter Caterina’s monachization in 1501 or her d ­ aughter Anna’s wedding in 1506. We can infer some basic biographical information about Eleonora from the supplica, combined with the vast ­earlier documentation concerning her husband and her offspring. Thus, we know that by the time she beseeched Isabella d’Este for her son’s release she had been married to Salomone / Ercole for at least forty-­three years. Having wedded him not long before 1478, she lived with him as a Jew first in Bologna and then in Ferrara, and gave birth to two boys and two girls. In late 1491, she was induced to convert to Chris­tian­ity in order not to lose custody of her minor ­children. ­After her baptism, the neophyte, who now went by the name of Eleonora, in honor of Duchess Eleonora of Aragon, had three more girls. Residing in Ferrara with her husband for more than thirty years, Eleonora nursed him through repeated bouts of prolonged illnesses. She regularly took sole responsibility for her ­family while her husband was away on business trips and during his incarcerations in 1491 and 1505. Like other craftsmen’s wives, Eleonora assisted Master Ercole by performing some of the unskilled chores that ­were required to keep the workshop ­running, though ­these went unrecorded in the payment registers documenting the skilled l­abor of her husband and her sons.16 She certainly kept track of the patrons who commissioned pieces from the ­family workshop, ­because her supplication noted the recent death of Master Ercole’s longtime patron, Cardinal Ippolito d’Este. The estimated value of a balas ruby in the 1521 document further indicates



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that Eleonora and her daughter-­in-­law—­who was likewise married to a goldsmith—­were quite capable of assessing the cost of the precious materials employed in their husbands’ craft.17 We know even less about Sapientia’s life than we do about her mother-­in-­law. All the information about her, namely, the fact that she was married to Master Alfonso and was the ­mother of six ­children, is based on the supplication; w ­ hether she, too, was of Jewish origins is not clear. In any case, a­ fter her husband’s incarceration, she strug­gled alongside Eleonora to feed their large ­family, including the prisoner.18 Their pleas to Ferrarese officials went unheeded, Duke Alfonso making it clear that his godson’s arrest was the result of an offense t­ oward his ­sister. On March 2, 1521, the two w ­ omen therefore had the following supplication delivered to Isabella in Mantua: The poor and wretched servants of Your Most Pious Excellency, Eleonora, the m ­ other of Alfonso the son of Ercole de’ Fideli the goldsmith, and Sapientia his wife, and six worthless ­l ittle ­children of the aforesaid Alfonso, as well as three unmarried s­ isters of the aforesaid Alfonso, fall to Your feet, explaining that some time ago the Magnificent Messer Girolamo Ziliolo gave on behalf of Your Excellency to the aforesaid Master Ercole, the ­father of the aforementioned Alfonso, forty-­eight gold ducats, so that the aforementioned Ercole melt them and make certain buttons or other works for Your Excellency. Having received the aforementioned ducats, Master Ercole gave to his sons, eigh­teen to the aforesaid Alfonso and eigh­teen ­others to Ferrante, to work them, and the said Master Ercole kept the rest in order to work them, and thus the aforementioned Ercole and his sons began to work them. And l­ ater on, as the aforesaid f­ ather and sons ­were reduced to extreme necessity for their subsistence, they w ­ ere forced to pawn to the Jews the aforesaid works [of gold], which ­because of their poverty and inability they ­were never able to enamel, nor to give them to Your Most Merciful Ladyship, as well as a certain balas ruby or another ­t hing worth ten gold ducats.19 Now that it has been more than a month that the aforementioned Alfonso has been detained

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and imprisoned at Your Ladyship’s order at the prison of the city of Ferrara, b ­ ecause of t­ hese [pawned] works, and he is [currently still] t­ here, he does not put his hope in the supplications for getting out of ­there, ­u nless Your most pious Ladyship is moved to mercy and compassion to have him released—­because t­ here is no way for him to satisfy You, and it is worse for having it if he ­will stay ­there [in prison], ­because he ­w ill not be able to earn anything—to a place where he ­w ill be able to satisfy Your Excellency and to provide us wretched [creatures] for our subsistence and for the very ­great poverty in which we find ourselves. As Your Ladyship may consider that we are bereft of any support ­because the aforementioned Alfonso is in prison, and the aforesaid Ercole and Ferrante are absent from the city of Ferrara, without giving us any aid, and r­ eally we ­w ill be forced to beg if we ­w ill want to live, ­because we have already consumed that ­little which we found we had for covering the living expenses of the aforementioned Alfonso in jail and also for our own subsistence. We therefore fall to the feet of Your Most Merciful Ladyship, shedding tears and prayers as much as we can, that as an act of piety or mercy and for the love of God, and for charity and for the remission [of sins] for the soul of the Lord Cardinal [Ippolito d’Este] Your b ­ rother of happy memory, You would wish to deign having the aforementioned Alfonso released from prison, considering also that he is not guilty of every­ thing, and considering that if Your Ladyship would like that he w ­ ill now come to Mantua to work [­t here], so that he can satisfy You with his earnings, giving a bit of it to the l­ ittle ­children for their living expenses. Ah, Most Illustrious Lady, we beg Your Excellency again to consider granting us this grace as requested above, ­because if Your Ladyship ­w ill consider our penury, that we are so many p ­ eople without any valuables and earnings, and that we have only this wretched Alfonso [to support us], we have no doubt that, moved to mercy, You ­will recognize that which we request, and the omnipotent God w ­ ill reward Your Excellency for such a deed, and we ­w ill pray to Him for You. 20



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Supplications addressed to the rulers of Italian states, like other kinds of petitions requesting grace from sixteenth-­century sovereigns, reflected a collaborative effort. Drafted by a notary or an attorney, they presented a detained criminal’s actions in such a way as to justify a request for mercy, and they had to conform to certain expected practices. The primary authors of ­these highly crafted texts, however, ­were still the supplicants themselves.21 Thus, the supplica written on behalf of Eleonora and Sapientia enables us to hear the voices of t­ hese two unlearned ­women for the first and only time. Requesting mercy, rather than justice, supplications conceded the condemned criminals’ guilt and aimed solely at reducing or modifying their punishment.22 In keeping with the genre’s conventions, Alfonso’s ­mother and his wife did not challenge the decision to have him imprisoned. Instead, they presented a number of circumstances that could prove favorable for the mitigation of his penalty. 23 Eleonora and Sapientia argued, first, that Master Ercole and his two sons had been driven to commit the crime of pledging Isabella’s valuables b ­ ecause of their indigence. They then reminded the marchioness that Alfonso “is not guilty of every­t hing”—­namely, that he was not the only man responsible for abusing her trust, implying that a­ fter a month in jail, Alfonso already paid for more than his share in the transgression committed together with his f­ ather and his ­brother. Supplications enabled the individuals petitioning Italian rulers to propose a strategy for resolving the prob­lems for which they or their relatives had been imprisoned. Supplicants regularly offered ser­vices, often a token of their working professionalism, in exchange for a punishment’s commutation. Condemned artists and craftsmen, in par­t ic­u ­lar, tended to invoke the unique ser­vices that they could perform for a princely lord when petitioning for their release from jail.24 Eleonora and Sapientia likewise presented Alfonso’s expertise in goldsmithery as a basis for preferential treatment. If liberated from prison, they suggested, he could come to Mantua and work ­t here. This proposal implied that Isabella could benefit from Alfonso’s presence in Mantua, where he could produce pieces of jewelry for her while also passing on the bulk of his revenues to fulfill his pecuniary penalty. Only a small fraction of Alfonso’s profits, his m ­ other and spouse added, would be used to provide for his dependents.

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By stressing the number of young c­ hildren who relied on Alfonso’s work for their very survival, Eleonora and Sapientia again deployed a tactic that was commonly used in sixteenth-­century petitions to ruling authorities. As they w ­ ere clearly aware, emphasizing the dire straits of Alfonso’s large f­amily, and especially of his innocent progeny, could increase the chances of being granted clemency. They therefore argued that they had “already consumed” all of the f­ amily’s resources and would soon be “forced to beg.” Mentioning Alfonso’s three unmarried ­sisters (whose names remain unknown) was aimed at further underscoring his ­family’s pitiful situation. 25 Eleonora and Sapientia presented a narrative that conformed to conventional norms; they also fashioned the story of Alfonso’s crime and its punishment in a manner that brought out all circumstances that could prove favorable to his release. Nonetheless, ­there can be ­little doubt that by March 1521 Master Alfonso’s kinswomen, as well as his c­ hildren, ­were on the brink of hunger. Five years ­earlier, Girolamo Ziliolo had already warned that, given the ­family’s precarious financial standing, Master Ercole’s arrest was likely to result in his f­ amily’s ruin.26 ­After both Master Ercole and his son Alfonso ­were also deprived of their regular source of employment in 1519, their extended f­ amily reached an unpre­ce­ dented low point. With no experienced goldsmith around to operate their workshop, the five w ­ omen and six c­ hildren who depended on its earnings ­were utterly destitute. Crafted as the text of their supplication might be, the desperate tone of Eleonora and Sapientia was anything but inauthentic. In their supplica, the two w ­ omen alluded to Jewish involvement in framing Alfonso—­even though, in light of the text’s overall brevity, it would have made more sense to state solely that extreme poverty had induced him, his f­ather, and his b ­ rother to pledge Isabella’s valuables. The pawnbrokers’ designation as Jews contrasted with the identification of the supplicants as the m ­ other and wife of Alfonso, the son of Master Ercole “de’ Fideli.” Whereas in his own e­ arlier missives to Isabella Master Ercole chose to sign his name in a way that stressed solely the professional dimension of his identity, Eleonora and Sapientia now deemed it helpful to add his ­adopted surname, “de’ Fideli” (i.e., “one of the faithful”) when appealing to the marchesa’s clemency.



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Moreover, if Master Ercole avoided unambiguous Catholic affirmations and made do with invoking God alone, 27 in 1521 his wife and daughter-­i n-­law alluded to the ability of the living to aid their recently deceased relatives by facilitating the remission of their sins—­a Catholic belief that, from 1517 onward, came ­u nder the attack of Martin Luther (1483–1546) and his followers.28 Presenting themselves as devout Catholics seeking grace from a pious Catholic sovereign, the supplicants noted the recent passing of Isabella’s ­brother Cardinal Ippolito d’Este. Sapientia and Eleonora, herself a former Jew, insinuated that as an act of mercy, freeing Alfonso from prison would facilitate the deliverance of the cardinal’s soul from purgatory to heaven. Yet even if in 1491 Isabella had assisted her parents in securing the pardoning of Salomone / Ercole’s relative upon his conversion, she did not express any interest in the well-­being of the goldsmith or any member of his ­family since her ­father’s death in 1505. Her esteem for Master Ercole’s artistic talent was unquestionable, but, like her ­brother Duke Alfonso, the marchesa did not concern herself with the earthly fruits of apostasy from Judaism, by offering the goldsmith or his kin protection or by coming to their aid in times of need. The supplication’s religious undertones ­were therefore unlikely to arouse Isabella’s sympathy. Thirty years a­ fter the baptism of Salomone, his wife, and their c­ hildren, the material benefits to be derived from their crossing over to the side of the Catholic faithful had long been exhausted.

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Epilogue One of the Faithful?

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the dark as to ­whether the predicament of Eleonora and Sapientia de’ Fedeli or the plight of their c­ hildren ultimately moved Isabella to have mercy on Master Alfonso, b ­ ecause the supplication that the two ­women drafted is the latest document discovered to date to mention ­either the prisoner or his ­father. Master Ercole’s wife and his daughter-­in-­law similarly dis­appear from the historical rec­ord ­a fter March 1521. So do the three youn­gest ­daughters of Eleonora and Master Ercole, whose very existence is noted solely in the supplication. The one member of the ­family to reappear ­later on is the ­couple’s younger son, Ferrante, also known as Ferdinando. Having left Ferrara with his ­father in late 1520 or early 1521, Ferrante was back in the city by the mid-1530s, a­ fter military conflict in northern Italy had fi­nally come to an end. Tellingly, Ferrante’s name resurfaces only in Ferrarese rec­ords that postdate the demise, in 1534, of Alfonso d’Este—­the duke who had thrown his b ­ rother into jail. Shortly ­a fter the ascension to the ducal throne of Alfonso d’Este’s heir, Ercole II (r. 1534– 1559), Ferrante resumed his work for Ferrara’s ruling ­family. In 1535, the goldsmith who in 1517 had created a gold fan for Duke Ercole II’s ­mother, E ARE LEFT IN

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Lucrezia Borgia, supplied luxury wares to the ducal court. In 1542, he was charged with forging silver plates and other pieces for Duke Ercole II.1 A de­cade ­later, “Master Ferdinando, a goldsmith, son of the late Ercole [de’] Fedeli,” served as a witness to a contract signed by one of his Ferrarese colleagues.2 By the last time Ferrante / Ferdinando was attested in Ferrara, in 1552, his ­father was long dead. Although neither the date nor the place of his demise is known, it is significant that Ferrante / Ferdinando was identified in a Ferrarese document as the son of Ercole de’ Fedeli. This designation indicates that the artistic dynasty that Master Ercole had labored to establish lived on for more than thirty years ­a fter his last recorded departure from Ferrara, with his younger son carry­ing on the illustrious name of Ercole de’ Fedeli well into the mid-­sixteenth c­ entury. Ercole de’ Fedeli, “one of the faithful”—­whatever weight one wishes to attribute to this choice of name—is also how the son of Ricca Finzi and Mele da Sessa is remembered by posterity. 3 But did the goldsmith ever become one of the Catholic faithful? The archival sources analyzed in this book disclose the dubious circumstances that prompted his conversion, as a result of considerations far removed from questions of belief.4 Keenly aware of this, his ducal patrons nonetheless insisted that he deliver an oration acknowledging the genuineness of his conversio and subsequently sought out additional opportunities for showcasing his baptism as an enduring triumph for the Catholic faith. Master Ercole, for his part, ceaselessly attempted to conform to the behavioral expectations directed at converts. The goldsmith endeavored to fashion a new identity as a Catholic, adapting to Christian time by working on the Sabbath and assigning his ­d aughter to a convent headed by a saintly Dominican stigmatic. The lavish ecclesiastical wares that he forged w ­ ere meant to bolster the magnificence of Christian places of worship, and the sacred jewelry he created served to outwardly display its wearer’s Catholic piety. No less impor­tant, the ­a dopted surname with which Master Ercole signed the engraved swords that earned him international fame was aimed at attesting to his Catholic faith. Yet, to what extent he truly endorsed the tenets of Catholicism he was required to affirm in his baptismal oration remains unclear. It is certainly noteworthy that the only original part of the gold-

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smith’s public address, the one that patently departed from the dictates of his Catholic patrons, expressed not his beliefs but rather the wish to ­settle the score with his Jewish enemies. Furthermore, save one offhand mention of God as vouching for his sincerity, and a letter in which he expressed his gratitude to the Almighty, 5 his own missives are ­silent on issues pertaining to religion or faith. Of course, in early modern Catholicism, as well as in Judaism, religious belief was inseparably linked to religious practice.6 A practicing Catholic who had converted from Judaism in Re­nais­sance Italy could claim to have become “one of the faithful” as long as he behaved like one. And while some of Master Ercole’s contemporaries regarded him as an individual who had betrayed the religion of his forefathers, he gave them no reason to accuse him of being an unfaithful Christian. In contrast with other former Jews, the goldsmith was never suspected of reverting to Judaism.7 Although his brushes with the law did not end with his apostasy, they never involved charges of a religious nature, such as blasphemy or sacrilege, and he did not attract the attention of ecclesiastical authorities.8 Unlike the neophyte’s hopes—­which, as we now know, he placed in his professional prowess—it is impossible to pin down precisely what beliefs he upheld.9 Much of his inner life remains shrouded in obscurity. Although the six letters that he authored shed some light on his aspirations, desires, and motivations, they tell us nothing of his religious outlook or, for that ­matter, about any other aspect of his worldview. Nonetheless, the long paper trail that he left b ­ ehind teaches us a ­great deal about Jewish-­Christian relations and about the mechanisms and implications of religious conversion in pre-­Tridentine Italy. The story of Salomone / Ercole bears witness to the willingness of Italian rulers to enable their Jewish subjects to contribute to the cultural creativity for which their courts became so famous. In some cities, artistically inclined Jews w ­ ere able to embark on c­ areers that diverged from the occupational paths of their parents and grandparents, without compromising their Jewish identity. Abstaining from the arts of the figure, they could nonetheless pursue the goldsmith’s vocation. The social and cultural integration accorded to talented Jews, though, did not grant them a standing equal to that of their Christian counter­parts. Barred from engaging in the lucrative commissions of devotional and liturgical

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artifacts, they also could not assume the honorific appellation of master craftsmen. Like many successful artists in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Jews whose creative impulse aroused the admiration of wealthy patrons ­were also prone to provoking the animosity of envious rivals and disgruntled apprentices or assistants. This could easily culminate in delations, followed by implications in real but also in trumped-up offenses. Yet when brought to trial, high-­profile Jewish defendants accused of grave crimes such as sodomy ­were vulnerable to particularly harsh punishments and ­were subject to considerable pressure to convert. Some secular rulers and magistrates ­were willing to go even further than ecclesiastical authorities demanded of them, by offering condemned Jewish felons ­pardons in exchange for baptism. The unfolding of Salomone / Ercole’s conversion, then, reflects the discriminatory and repressive dimensions of Jewish-­Christian relations in Re­nais­sance Italy. At the same time, however, it cautions against seeing members of the persecuted minority solely as passive victims. The correspondence pertaining to the goldsmith and his relation, Angelo di Vitale, exposes the involvement of prominent Jews in incriminating their coreligionists; it documents how, when perceiving certain individuals as a danger to the local Jewish populace, Jews took concrete actions to ensure the ejection of their fellow Jews from Jewish society. Jewish leaders did not hesitate to turn to Christian authorities, implicating specific Jews in transgressions that ­were bound to result in capital punishments, or ­else in the apostasy not only of a troublesome individual but also of his young c­ hildren, who clearly did not share his guilt. We are left to speculate on what could possibly kindle such profound rancor against Salomone and Angelo. What­ever the case, their fates demonstrate that ­there was more at stake in Jewish conversion than Christian authorities’ pressure and coercion, on the one hand, and apostates’ willingness to capitalize on the earthly benefits made available by baptism, on the other. Some apostates ­were, paradoxically, pushed to convert—­a long with their entire families—by members of their original community of faith. The princely patrons of converts from Judaism manifested their commitment to the growth of Catholicism not only by sponsoring lavish baptismal ceremonies but also by aiding neophytes’ assimilation into

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Christian society. They offered their protégés work opportunities, helped them to amass dowries for their d ­ aughters, and protected them from their adversaries. This kind of ongoing support served to broadcast the religious zeal of specific patrons and, as such, could last only as long as ­these individuals remained in power. Thus, whereas Eleonora of Aragon and Ercole d’Este went out of their way to keep Master Ercole out of trou­ble, the goldsmith found himself back in prison as soon as Duke Ercole ceased to function as Ferrara’s effective ruler. While Duchess Eleonora and Duke Ercole seem to have regarded caring for a neophyte and his f­ amily as part of their religious duties, the same is difficult to say about their c­ hildren. Neither Marchioness Isabella nor Duke Alfonso felt obligated to continue and support Jews, whose apostasy had been secured thanks to their parents’ intervention. Bereft of the princely patrons who had prompted his baptism fourteen years ­earlier, from 1505 onward Master Ercole could no longer count on reaping the material fruits of his conversion. He was left to cope with the multiple crises brought about by the Italian Wars just like other Christian heads of h ­ ouse­holds of his social class. The last sixteen years of Master Ercole’s documented ­career call attention to the astonishing gap separating the daily life of ­those ­women and men whose commissions constituted the dazzling material culture of Re­nais­sance courts and that of the individuals who actually created them. As Master Ercole’s fortunes reveal, even internationally acclaimed prac­t i­t ion­ers of what was considered to be a “gentle art” had much in common with more ordinary artisans. Goldsmiths, including ones who manufactured luxury objects that subsequently adorned members of Eu­ rope’s ruling elite, w ­ ere expected to work for long hours, sometimes by candlelight, to meet pressing deadlines. H ­ andling substances that omitted toxic fumes, they ­were susceptible to occupational ­hazards that seriously damaged their health, and their families could be subject to repeated molestations from the agents of their upper-­class patrons. Unannounced visits to a goldsmith’s home, threats, and the incarceration of a son w ­ ere all considered legitimate means for ensuring that a fashionista such as Isabella d’Este would be able to don a piece of jewelry that she desired. Excelling in the production of valuable commodities could secure a court appointment that entailed a monthly salary, but even this was not

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enough to shield one from the economic repercussions of ensuing warfare. Like other artisans and craftsmen, Master Ercole put much thought into devising strategies that advanced the economic survival of his f­ amily. Yet fulfilling the anticipated paternal duty of imparting his expertise to his sons in order to keep the workshop in the f­ amily, which was supposed to be financially advantageous, could backfire when the demand for certain goods went into sharp decline. Master Ercole was just one of many court employees to suffer from the recession brought about by the Italian Wars, and his f­ amily’s gradual but well-­documented descent into destitution is emblematic of the effects of prolonged military conflict on h ­ ouse­holds in northern Italy during the second de­cade of the sixteenth ­century. By the time Master Ercole’s extended ­family sank into poverty, the princely rulers who had sponsored his baptism w ­ ere no longer around, and their successor saw no reason to concern himself with his parents’ prized neophyte. Thirty years a­ fter their apostasy from Judaism, no pious Catholic reached out to save the goldsmith and his kin in a move to manifest conversionary zeal. The memory of their act of crossing over to the Catholic side, however, did not entirely fade. Their erstwhile coreligionists certainly remembered it. Conversion to Chris­t ian­ity, then, provided neophytes with social and economic opportunities that w ­ ere not available to them as Jews. Many of ­these ­were short-­lived, while ­others, such as the creation of professional dynasties, ­were more enduring. Despite theological claims to the contrary, though, baptism did not turn converts into new men, and dissolving all ties to their Jewish past proved to be an end that was impossible to reach.

NOTES

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INDEX

NOTES

INTRODUCTION







1. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491, in Archivio di Stato di Mantova, Archivio Gonzaga [hereafter ASMn, AG], busta 1232, c. 93: “Ieri ad ora XXI furono baptizati tre ebrei: Salamone et il fiollo et una ebrea che se’ sia inamorata di uno cristiano. Salamone [lo] ha tenuto a bapteximo la illustrissima madama et ha nome Ercule. Lo fiolo lo ha tenuto lo Signore Don Alfonso et ha nome Alfonso. La ebrea la ha tenuta la illustrissima signora Anna et ha nome Anna. Baptizati tucti in suxo uno tribunallo alto in lo episcopato per mano delo episcopo dinati del crucifixo. Poi montò in suxo uno pergolo là facto quel novo cristiano Ercole, et lì predicò cum lo libro dela bibia in mano in ebraico et dichiarò quale caxone lo haveva inducto a farsi cristiano, dechiarò multi testi de Isaia, de Ieronimo, de Daniel, et altri profeti assai et de Sancto Jovanni Evangelista, digando et dischiarando lo errore deli Judei in aspectare lo messia, mostrando lui che loro non pono negare per lo dicto deli profetti che lo vero messia è venuto qualle fu Yhesu XPO benedicto, et poi etiam in sua excusatione narò qualle fusi la caxone del suo essere stato carcerato dali ebrei, digando che lo odio li era venuto dali zudei de Mantoa, per quello miraculo della gloriosa nostra dona [sic] in quello puto che morì al tempo passato.” 2. Letters sent to Isabella d’Este by Bernardino de’ Prosperi and Girolamo Magnanino on October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, cc. 40, 167); Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491, in Archivio di Stato di Modena [hereafter ASMo], Archivio Segreto Estense [hereafter ASE], Casa e Stato, busta 132; Bernardino Zambotti, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1476 sino al 1504, ed. Giuseppe Pardi, in Rerum italicarum scriptores, ed. L. A. Muratori, vol. 24 / 7:2 (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1934), 223. 3. For this view, see Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli, “Ferrara, ovvero un porto placido e sicuro tra XV e XVI secolo,” in Vita e cultura ebraica nello stato Estense: Atti del 1o convegno internazionale di studi, Nonantola 15–16–17 maggio 1992, ed. Euride Fregni and Mauro Perani (Nonantola: Fattoadarte, 1993), 235–257; Andrea Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi (Modena: Società Tipografica 249

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4.



5.



6.



7.



8.

Modenese, 1913), 52–53, 62–64; Edmund G. Gardner, Dukes and Poets in Ferrara: A Study in the Poetry, Religion and Politics of the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth Centuries (London: Constable, 1904), 152–153; Aron di Leone Leoni, “Gli ebrei sefarditi a Ferrara da Ercole I a Ercole II, nuove ricerche e interpretazioni,” La rassegna mensile di Israel 52, no. 1 (1986): 407–445; esp. 408–412. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “perché io amo dicto Salomone per essere nel mestere suo molto virtuoso et gentile.” Like other goldsmiths who specialized in jewelry, most of the pieces that he created w ­ ere melted down at some point. For his swords, see Sergio Masini and Gianrodolfo Rotasso, “Le armi nella storia,” in Le armi degli Estensi: La collezione di Konopiště (Bologna: Cappelli, 1986), xxi–­x xviiii; esp. xxviii; Mina Gregori, In the Light of Apollo: The Italian Re­nais­sance and Greece, 22 December 2003–31 March 2004 (Athens: Hellenic Culture Organ­i zation, 2003), 401–402; Daniele Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” in Cesare Borgia di Francia: Gonfaloniere di Santa Romana Chiesa, 1498–1503. Conquiste effimere e progettualità statale. Atti del Convegno di Studi (Urbino, 2003), ed. Marinella Bonvini and Monica Miretti (Ostra Vetere: Tecnostampa, 2005), 427–445; Marià Carbonelli Buades, “Cèsar Borja i l’art. Tres episodis,” Revista Borja 2 (2009): 325–357; esp. 331. The most recent biographical account of Salomone / Ercole, published in 1993, is Roberta Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1993), 43:131–132, which reiterates ­earlier ­m istakes regarding major events in his life in Angelo Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale (Turin: Candeletti, 1890), 307; Constantino  G. Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia (Rome: Palombi, 1958–1974), 350. See especially Kenneth R. Stow, Catholic Thought and Papal Jewry Policy, 1555–1593 (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of Amer­i­c a, 1977), 171–224; Stow, Taxation, Community, and State: The Jews and the Fiscal Foundations of the Early Modern Papal State (Stuttgart: Anton Hieremann, 1982), 53–70. Adriano Prosperi, “L’Inquisizione Romana e gli ebrei,” in L’Inquisizione e gli ebrei in Italia, ed. Michele Luzzati (Rome: Laterza, 1994), 67–120; Brian Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice: 1550–1620 (Totowa, NJ: Barnes and Noble, 1983); Marina Caffiero, Battesimi forzati: Storia di ebrei, cristiani e convertiti nella Roma dei papi (Rome: Viella, 2004); Pietro Ioly Zorattini, I nomi degli altri: Conversioni a Venezia e nel Friuli Veneto in età moderna (Florence: Olschki, 2008); Natalie  E. Rothman, Brokering Empire: Trans-­imperial Subjects between Venice and Istanbul (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011), 87–162; Matteo Al Kalak and Ilaria Pavan, Un’altra fede: Le Case dei catecumeni nei territori estensi (1583–1938) (Florence: Olschki, 2013); Samuela Marconcini, Per amor del cielo: Farsi cristiani a Firenze tra



NOTES TO PAGE 6

Seicento e Settecento (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2016). See also the articles in “Dall’infamia dell’errore al grembo di Santa Chiesa”: Conversioni e strategie della conversione a Roma nell’età moderna, special issue of Ricerche per la storia religiosa di Roma 10 (1998). 9. Stow, Catholic Thought, 200–203; Stow, Taxation, Community, and State, 66– 70; Adriano Prosperi, “La Chiesa e gli ebrei nell’Italia del ’500,” in Ebraismo e antiebraismo: Immagine e pregiudizio, ed. Cesare Luporini (Florence: Giuntina, 1989), 171–183. See also Renata Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation: Identities and Biographies,” Proceedings of the Sixth World Congress of Jewish Studies 2 (1973): 131–142; esp. 132. 10. Guido Ruggiero, The Bound­aries of Eros: Sex Crime and Sexuality in Re­nais­ sance Venice (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 88; Stephen Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita: A Wedding Oration in Fifteenth-­Century Brescia,” in Ebraismo e cristianesimo in Italia tra ’400 e ’600: Confronti e convergenze, ed. Luca Baraldi, Tamar Herzig, and Gabriella Zarri, special issue of Archivio italiano per la storia della pietà 25 (2012), 140–166; esp. 147; Elisabetta Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città: Economia e società nel Polesine del Quattrocento (Rovigo: Minelliana, 2004), 172–176; David S. Chambers and Trevor Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice: An Investigating Magistrate in Re­ nais­sance Italy (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997), 243–244; Michele Luzzati, “ ‘Satis est quod tecum dormivit’. Vero, verosimile e falso nelle incriminazioni di ebrei: Un caso di presunta sodomia (Lucca, 1471– 1472),” in Una manna buona per mantova / Man Tov le-­Man Tovah: Studi in onore di Vittore Colorni, ed. Mauro Perani (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 2004), 261–280; esp. 262–263. 11. Shlomo Simonsohn, The Jews in the Duchy of Milan (Jerusalem: Israel Acad­emy of Sciences and Humanities, 1982), 1:391–392, 553–554; Marina Gazzini, Storie di vita e di malavita: Criminali, poveri e altri miserabili nelle carceri di Milano alla fine del medioevo (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2017), 93–94; David B. Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew: The Life and Thought of Abraham ben Mordecai Farissol (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1981), 21–22, 43–47; Tamar Herzig, “The Prosecution of Jews and the Repression of Sodomy in Fifteenth-­Century Italy,” in L’Inquisizione romana, i giudici e gli eretici: Studi in onore di John Tedeschi, ed. Anne Jacobson Schutte and Andrea Del Col (Rome: Viella, 2017), 59–74; Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli, “I banchieri ebrei e la città,” in Banchi ebraici a Bologna nel XV secolo, ed. Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1994), 89–157; esp. 123–124; Rossella Rinaldi, “Topografia documentaria per la storia della comunità ebraica bolognese,” in Banchi ebraici a Bologna nel XV secolo, ed. Muzzarelli, 29–87; esp. 65; Luca Landucci, Diario fiorentino dal 1450 al 1516 di Luca Landucci continuato da un anonimo fino al 1542, ed. I. Del Badia (Florence: Sansoni, 1883), 132; Pietro Delcorno, “Corruzione e conversione in una sacra rappresentazione fiorentina: La rappresentazione di

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12.

13.

14.

15.

16. 17.

dua hebrei che si convertirono (c. 1495),” Cheiron 57–58 (2012): 273–310; esp. 281–282; Donald Weinstein, Savonarola: The Rise and Fall of a Re­nais­sance Prophet (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), 83–85; Anna Esposito, Un’altra Roma: Minoranze nazionali e comunità ebraiche tra Medioevo e Rinascimento (Rome: Il Calamo, 1995), 154–157. Ariel Toaff, Il vino e la carne: Una comunità ebraica nel Medioevo (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1989), 181, titles his subchapter on Jewish baptisms in Umbria “il movimento delle conversioni,” but he does not pre­sent statistical data to justify both the use of this terminology and the claim (184) that conversions ­were the cause for the dwindling size of Jewish settlements in Umbria during the last de­cades of the Quattrocento. For individual cases of conversions in Perugia, Assisi, Foligno, Spoleto, and Spello in this period, see Toaff, 189–199. On ­these, see Don Harrán, “ ‘Adonai con voi’ (1569), a ­Simple Popu­lar Song with a Complicated Semantic about (What Seems to Be) Circumcision,” in The Jewish Body: Corporeality, Society, and Identity in the Re­nais­sance and Early Modern Period, ed. Maria Diemling and Giuseppe Veltri (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 427–463; esp. 428–429n6; Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita,” 140–166; Delcorno, “Corruzione e conversione,” 273–310. Peter A. Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy (New York: Routledge, 2016), 18–42, 66–82, provides an overview of Jewish conversion in Italian lands from the mid-1540s onward. No such overview exists for the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. On current trends in studying the history of apostasy from Judaism in the Italian Peninsula, see Strategie e normative per la conversione degli ebrei dal Medioevo all’età contemporanea. Atti del Convegno Internazionale, Ravenna 30 settembre–2 ottobre 2013, ed. Mauro Perani, special issue of Materia giudaica 19, nos. 1–2 (2014). See Robert Bonfil, “An Infant’s Missionary Sermon Addressed to the Jews of Rome in 1553,” in New Perspectives on Jewish-­Christian Relations in Honor of David Berger, ed. Elisheva Carlebach and Jacob J. Schacter (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 141–171; esp. 155; Kenneth R. Stow, “Conversion, Christian Hebraism, and Hebrew Prayer in the Sixteenth C ­ entury,” Hebrew Union College Annual 47 (1976): 217–236; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 22. See Kenneth R. Stow, “The Papacy and the Jews: Catholic Reformation and Beyond,” Jewish History 6, nos. 1–2 (1992): 257–279. Thus, the experiences of Italian converts varied considerably from t­ hose of the conversos, who became Christians along with numerous other baptized Jews and formed new communities with a distinct, yet communal, religious identity. The history of the Jews in the southern parts of the Italian Peninsula who ­were subject to the Spanish Crown diverged from that of their coreligionists in central and northern Italy (except for the Spanish-­ ruled duchy of Milan, from which the Jews ­were expelled in 1597); the Sicilian version of the Spanish Edict of Expulsion was promulgated as



NOTES TO PAGES 7–8

early as 1492, and in 1541 Jews w ­ ere also expelled from the kingdom of Naples. On the “New Christians” from Iberia who formed their own community in Naples, see Peter A. Mazur, The New Christians of Spanish Naples, 1528–1671: A Fragile Elite (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013). For Sicily, see Nadia Zeldes, The Former Jews of This Kingdom: Sicilian Converts ­after the Expulsion, 1492–1516 (Leiden: Brill, 2003). 18. For microhistorians’ focus on singular individuals, events, or communities as a means for attaining “understandings not necessarily vis­i­ble at larger scales,” see Thomas Robisheaux’s observation in “Microhistory ­Today: A Roundtable Discussion,” ed. Thomas Robisheaux, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 47, no. 1 (January 2017): pp. 7–52; esp. 24; Sigurður Gylfi Magnússon and István M. Szijártó, What Is Microhistory? Theory and Practice (New York: Routledge, 2013), 4–5. 19. On the centrality of gleaming metals and stones in creating this material culture, see Ulinka Rublack, Dressing Up: Cultural Identity in Re­nais­sance Eu­ rope (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 20, 67; Timothy McCall, “Brilliant Bodies: Material Culture and the Adornment of Men in North Italy’s Quattrocento Courts,” I Tatti Studies in the Italian Re­nais­sance 16, nos. 1–2 (Fall 2013): 445–490. 20. Edoardo Grendi, “Microanalisi e storia sociale,” Quaderni storici 12, no. 35 (May–­August 1977): 506–520. See also Giovanni Levi, “On Microhistory,” in New Perspectives on Historical Writing, ed. Peter Burke (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 1992), 93–113; esp. 109–111; Matti Peltonen, “Clues, Margins, and Mondads: The Micro-­Macro Link in Historical Research,” History and Theory 40, no. 3 (October 2001): 347–359; Jill Lepore, “Historians Who Love Too Much: Reflections on Microhistory and Biography,” Journal of American History 88, no. 1 (June 2001): 129–144; esp. 131–133. 21. Most of Ferrara’s criminal rec­ords from the early modern era ­were ­either destroyed in the late eigh­teenth ­century or lost in a 1945 fire. See Diane Yvonne Ghirardo, “The Topography of Prostitution in Re­n ais­sance Ferrara,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 60, no.  4 (December 2001): 402–431; esp. 408, 425. 22. Some of the best-­k nown microhistorical studies dealing with early modern Italy—­notably, Carlo Ginzburg, The Cheese and the Worms: The Cosmos of a Sixteenth-­Century Miller, trans. John Tedeschi and Anne C. Tedeschi (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980); Judith C. Brown, Immodest Acts: The Life of a Lesbian Nun in Re­nais­sance Italy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); Gene Brucker, Giovanni and Lusanna: Love and Marriage in Re­nais­sance Florence (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1986)—­ are based on the rec­ords of judicial proceedings. For the advantages of relying on such sources, see Filippo de Vivo, “Prospect of Refuge? Microhistory, History on the Large Scale,” Cultural and Social History 7, no. 3

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NOTES TO PAGES 8–13

(2010): 387–397; esp. 391; Thomas V. Cohen, “The Macrohistory of Microhistory,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 47, no. 1 (January 2017): 53–73. On its limitations, see Thomas Kuehn, “Reading Microhistory: The Example of Giovanni and Lusanna,” Journal of Modern History 61, no. 3 (September 1989): 512–534; David A. Bell, “Total History and Microhistory: The French and Italian Paradigms,” in A Companion to Western Historical Thought, ed. Lloyd Kramer and Sarah Maza (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002), 262–276; esp. 270–274. 23. Letters have served as the partial or main sources of microhistorical studies such as Steven Ozment, Magdalena and Balthasar: An Intimate Portrait of Life in Sixteenth-­Century Eu­rope Revealed in the Letters of a Nuremberg Husband and Wife (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1989); Ozment, ­ aughter: Scandal in a Sixteenth-­Century German Town The Bürgermeister’s D (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996); Jill Lepore, The Name of War: King Philip’s War and the Origins of American Identity (New York: Vintage Books, 1998). See also Magnússon and Szijártó, What Is Microhistory?, 79–100. 24. For the reliance on notarial and financial rec­ords of this kind as the basis for microhistorical analy­sis, see Giovanni Levi, Inheriting Power: The Story of an Exorcist, trans. Lydia  G. Cochrane (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988), xiv; Brad S. Gregory, “Is Small Beautiful? Microhistory and the History of Everyday Life,” History and Theory 38, no. 1 (February 1999): 100–110; esp. 101–107. 25. On the debate concerning the Burckhardtian notion of Re­nais­sance individualism, see John Jeffries Martin, Myths of Re­nais­sance Individualism (Hampshire: Palgrave, 2004). C H A P T E R O N E  ​ ​A M O N E Y L E N D E R ’ S S O N T U R N E D G O L D S M I T H







1. For other Jews in Florence who ­were identified by the toponym “da Sessa,” see Umberto Cassuto, Gli ebrei a Firenze nell’età del Rinascimento (Florence: Tipografia Galletti e Cocci, 1918), 259n2. 2. Mele’s ­career is reconstructed in Elisabeth Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa: Un banchiere campano nella Firenze della metà del Quattrocento,” Annali dell’Istituto Italiano per gli studi storici 17 (2000): 143–168. See also the updated discussion in Elisabeth Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien, 1437–1464: Une histoire économique et sociale du Judaïsme toscan” (PhD diss., Université Paul Valéry–­Montpellier III, 2009), 27–30, 74–83, 215, 245–246, 266–273, 305– 310, 400–405. 3. The Jewish w ­ oman “Sara del fu Simone de Alamani,” from the disreputable neighborhood (popolo) of San Lorenzo in Florence, where Mele himself resided ­u ntil 1453, had the notary Ser Totto di Lazzaro Totti da Bacchereto certify Mele’s paternity in a notarial document drafted on



NOTES TO PAGES 13–14



4.



5.



6.



7.



8.



9.

December 14, 1448, in Archivio di Stato di Firenze [hereafter ASFi], Notarile antecosimiano, 2044. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 152. On Gaio di Musettino (or Museto) Finzi, a successful Jewish banker who was active first in Padua and then in Rovigo, see Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 103–111. For Gaio’s son Joseph and his wife, Stella, see Traniello, 160–172, 266n33. Michele Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili’: Nascite illegittime e prostituzione nel mondo ebraico toscano del Quattrocento,” Quaderni storici, nuova serie 39, no. 115 (April 2004): 195–215; esp. 196–197; Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien,” 135–136. Joseph’s presence in Ferrara and his business ventures with local Jewish bankers in this city from the 1430s ­until 1458—­while he continued to reside in Lendinara—­ a re attested in the documents summarized in Adriano Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara: Testimonianze archivistiche fino al 1492, ed. Paolo Ravenna (Florence: Olschki, 2007), 157, 169, 175, 180, 227–228, 233–234, 239, 243, 245 (docs. 429, 462, 478–479, 495, 551, 620, 629–630, 643, 649). In 1456, together with other bankers in nearby towns, Joseph reached a settlement with the papal envoy in charge of imposing a new tax on the Jews for financing a crusade against the Turks. See Aron di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara (1492–1559): I suoi rapporti col governo ducale e la popolazione locale e i suoi legami con le nazioni portoghesi di Ancona, Pesaro e Venezia, ed. Laura Graziani Secchieri (Florence: Olschki, 2011), 1:13–14. Elisabetta Traniello, “Famiglie e genealogie: Uno strumento antico per chiavi di lettura nuove,” in I paradigmi della mobilità e delle relazioni: Gli ebrei in Italia. In ricordo di Michele Luzzati, ed. Bice Migliau, Serena Di Nepi, Anna Esposito, and Marina Caffiero (Florence: Giuntina, 2017), 35–45; esp. 44. Elisabetta Traniello, “Tra appartenenza ed estraneità: Gli ebrei e le città del Polesine di Rovigo nel Quattrocento,” Reti medievali 2 (2005): 163–175; esp. 171n10; Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 269; Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 147, 149n22. The dowries of the d ­ aughters of Jewish merchants and bankers in central and northern Italy averaged between 100 and 200 gold ducats or florins, though they ­were often considerably higher. See Michele Luzzati, “Matrimoni e apostasia di Clemenza di Vitale di Pisa,” in his La casa dell’ebreo: Saggi sugli ebrei a Pisa e in Toscana nel Medioevo e nel Rinascimento (Pisa: Nistri-­ Lischi, 1985), 61–106; esp. 67, 74–75; Muzzarelli, “I banchieri ebrei e la città,” 153–155; Alessandra Veronese, “Donne ebree italiane e ashkenazite in Italia centro-­settentrionale: Doti, testamenti, ruolo economico,” in Vicino al focolare e oltre: Spazi pubblici e privati, fisici e virtuali della donna ebrea in Italia (secc. XV–­X X), ed. Laura Graziani Secchieri (Florence: Giuntina, 2015), 153–163; esp. 162.

255

256

NOTES TO PAGES 14–15

10. Traniello, “Famiglie e genealogie,” 40. A biographical sketch of Ricca, based on the information known about her in 2014 (prior to my discovery of her testament), was the focus of Elisabetta Traniello’s “Essere donna, ebrea, italiana nel Medioevo: Una storia per Ricca Finzi” (paper presented at the symposium “Donna Sapiens: La figura femminile nell’ebraismo: Giornata europea della cultura ebraica, Ferrara, September 12, 2014”). My thanks to Dr. Traniello for sending me the text of this unpublished paper. 11. Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili,’ ” 195–215. 12. Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien,” 164–166, 215. 13. Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” erroneously dates the goldsmith’s birth to around 1465 and states that he was born in Sesso in Reggio Emilia. The vast documentation about the f­ amily’s whereabouts during the 1450s, examined by Borgolotto (Zetland), clearly disproves t­ hese contentions. 14. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 150–151. 15. Cassuto, Gli ebrei a Firenze nell’età del Rinascimento, 42–45, 259. 16. Moshe ben Joab’s sermon is cited in Cassuto, 371: ‫ ​וע”כ עצתי‬. . . ‫”בפיורינצי דבור כאשר היתה אשת הר’ מאיר איש סיסה ביד המושל בסכנה‬ ‫שנתפלל לה’ בלא שפתי מרמה על הצר הצורר אותנו ואת העניה הזאת ואולי יתעשת האלהים‬ “.‫לנו ולא תאבד האשה ביד הצר הזה אשר נטה ידו עליה לשחתה‬ 17. Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien,” 360–361. However, although in Italian Meir could perhaps be read as Mele if the handwriting is not very clear, it is hard to read the Hebrew word ‫מאיר‬ as ‫ מילי‬or ‫( מלה‬as Mele would be spelled in Hebrew). 18. On premodern Italian Jewish ­w idows, see Kenneth Stow, Theater of Acculturation: The Roman Ghetto in the Sixteenth C ­ entury (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001), 76–78, 173–174nn28–29. For other parts of Eu­ rope, see Elisheva Baumgarten, “Gender and Daily Life in Jewish Commu­ omen and Gender in Medieval Eu­rope, ed. nities,” in The Oxford Handbook of W Judith M. Bennett and Ruth Mazo Karras (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 213–228; esp. 219. 19. On the function of procuratore, who could argue on behalf of a ­woman at court, as distinct from the institution of mundualdus, in fifteenth-­century Florence, see Thomas E. Kuehn, Law, F ­ amily, and ­Women: ­Toward a ­Legal Anthropology of Re­nais­sance Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 214, 219–220, 230–231. 20. For Jewish w ­ idows who worked as moneylenders in Florence, see Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien,” 78, 96– 100. On other Italian cities, see Michele Luzzati, “Alle radici della ‘Jüdische Mutter’: Note sul lavoro femminile nel mondo ebraico italiano fra Medioevo e Rinascimento,” in La donna nell’economia secc. XIII–­X VIII. Atti della Ventunesima Settimana di Studi, 10–15 aprile 1989, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi (Florence: Le Monnier, 1990), 461–473; esp. 466–470; Anna Es-



NOTES TO PAGES 15–16

posito, “Donne in casa, donne in piazza. Le donne ebree dell’area laziale tra ’400 e ’500,” in Vicino al focolare e oltre, ed. Graziani Secchieri, 165–173; esp. 171–173. 21. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 147, 160. 22. See Chapter 3. 23. See the testament of Ricca, ­widow of “Mele da Sesso [sic],” redacted on September 15, 1485, by the Bolognese notary Matteo Curialti of Tossignano, in Archivio di Stato di Bologna [hereafter ASBo], Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61. 24. Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307; Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, marchesa di Mantova (Rome: Forzani, 1896), 44; Gustave Gruyer, L’art ferrarais a l’époque des princes d’Este (Paris: Plon, 1897), 1:573; Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia, 350; Masini and Rotasso, “Le armi nella storia,” xxi–­x xviiii; esp. xxviii; Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli.” 25. Ricca’s half ­brother from her ­mother’s side, Mosè di Abramo, lived in Prato, but her husband, Mele, was evidently not on good terms with him (Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” esp. 148n20). 26. Museto di Ventura, also known as Museto di Bologna or “de Porta,” ran the “Banco de Porta” in cappella San Marco in Porta Ravegnana for many years (Muzzarelli, “I banchieri ebrei e la città,” 115–116, 137, 142–145). 27. Both bankers are mentioned in Ricca’s testament from 1485, discussed in Chapter 2. 28. Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 169, 266. 29. Elisabetta Traniello, “I Finzi nel XV secolo: Un nuovo tassello per la storia della famiglia,” Terra d’Este: Rivista di storia e cultura 12, no. 23 (2000): 109– 120; esp. 110; Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 263–268, 275, 281. 30. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 165. On other Jewish families who moved from Florence to Bologna in the fifteenth ­century, see Ermanno Loevinson, “Notizie e dati statistici sugli ebrei entrati a Bologna nel secolo XV,” Annuario di studi ebraici del Collegio rabbinico (1938): 125–173; esp. 130. The arrival of Ricca and her c­ hildren in Bologna is not recorded in the documentation examined by Loevinson, which pertains only to the Bolognese quartiere of Porta Procola. 31. I found a copy of Ricca’s hitherto unknown testament in ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo, filza 8. 32. The cappelle served in notarial documents as the principal identifiers of one’s identity, next to the first name and the name of an individual’s ­father: Shona Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis: Bologna during the Black Death (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 198. 33. Ira Katznelson and Miri Rubin, “Introduction,” in Religious Conversion: History, Experience and Meaning, ed. Ira Katznelson and Miri Rubin (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2014), 1–30; esp. 21.

257

258

NOTES TO PAGE 17

34. See Antonio Ivan Pini, “Famiglie, insediamenti e banchi ebraici a Bologna e nel Bolognese nella seconda metà del Trecento,” Quaderni storici 18, no. 54 (December  1983):  783–814; esp. 791–793, 809n39; Antonio Ivan Pini, “Mura e porta di Bologna medievale: La piazza di Porta Ravegnana,” in Fortifications, portes de villes, places publiques dans le monde méditerranen, ed. Jacques Heers (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-­Sorbonne, 1985), 197–231; esp. 222–224. 35. This can be safely deduced from the fact that Salomone’s firstborn child, the girl who in August 1501 entered Santa Caterina da Siena, was twenty­t wo years old at the time of her vestition ceremony, as noted in the Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova confessor del monastero, Archivio Storico Diocesano, Ferrara [hereafter ASDF], Fondo Santa Caterina da Siena [hereafter SCS], busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v. This means that she was born in 1479, so her parents had presumably gotten married in 1478. 36. Salomone del fu Mele da Sesso is still referred to as a resident of Bologna in the first notarial document pertaining to the disputed inheritance of his ­mother on August 21, 1489, in Archivio di Stato di Ferrara [hereafter ASFe], Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489. 37. On Zinatan Finzi, see Marco Folin, Rinascimento estense: Politica, cultura, istituzioni di un antico Stato italiano (Rome: Laterza, 2004), 205n265. Salomone’s ­mother, Ricca, was a Finzi, and in the Quattrocento endogamous marriages among members of dif­fer­ent branches of this ­family ­were very common. See Vittore Colorni, “Genealogia della famiglia Finzi—­Le prime generazioni,” in Colorni, Judaica Minora: Saggi di storia dell’ebraismo italiano dall’antichità all’età moderna (Milan: A. Giuffrè, 1983), 329–342; esp. 339; Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 280; Elliott Horo­w itz, “Families and Their Fortunes: The Jews of Early Modern Italy,” in Cultures of the Jews, ed. David Biale (New York: Schocken Books, 2002), 573–636; esp. 593. 38. Isabella d’Este refers to “Davit di Finci” from Fontanellato as Salomone da Sesso’s brother-­in-­law in her letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (in ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r). Davide is identified as the son of Zinatan Finzi (“quondam Zinatani de’ Fincis”) in a notarial document of June 22, 1487, cited in Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 21n1. See also Anna Antoniazzi Villa, Un pro­cesso contro gli ebrei nella Milano del 1488: Crescita e declino della comunità ebraica lombarda alla fine del Medioevo (Bologna: Cappelli, 1985), 71n68. 39. Supplication addressed to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521, in ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII (“Ferrara. Diversi”), c. 395. 40. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 41. In 1502, this girl was designated as the d ­ aughter of Ercole the goldsmith, the former Jew, in the list of Ferrarese girls—­a ll of whom ­were ­under eigh­ teen years old—­selected to serve as Lucrezia Borgia’s damsels: ASMo, ASE,



42.

43.

44. 45.

46.

47.

48.

49.

NOTES TO PAGES 17–18

Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I (Cancelleria marchionale poi ducale estense: Documenti spettanti a principi estensi, Ramo ducale [Principi non regnanti, no. 39A], Documenti riguardanti Lucrezia Borgia posteriormente al matrimonio con Alfonso I, 1501–1519), fasc. 8, “1502. Lista della famiglia destinata dal Duca di Ferrara a Lucrezia Borgia”; Zambotti, Diario ferrarese, 337. The girl’s baptismal name is noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). Ricca’s testament of September 1485 indicates that by this time ­Graziadio was Salomone’s only son, but in the notarial document drafted in Ferrara on August 21, 1489 (and summarized in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 427 [doc. 1238]), in which he is designated a pupil, J­ oseph is referred to as an infant. According to eyewitness accounts of his baptism ceremony, in 1491 Graziadio was nine years old (see Chapter 9). The ­couple’s three nubile ­d aughters are mentioned in the supplication that their m ­ other and sister-­in-­law sent Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII, c. 395). Baumgarten, “Gender and Daily Life in Jewish Communities,” 215–216. See Debra Kaplan, “ ‘­Because Our Wives Trade and Do Business with Our Goods’: Gender, Work, and Jewish-­Christian Relations,” in New Perspectives on Jewish-­Christian Relations in Honor of David Berger, ed. Elisheva Carlebach and Jacob J. Schacter (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 241–261; esp. 242–243. In the ­fourteenth c­ entury, ­women w ­ ere still regarded as “an essential part of a f­ amily com­pany” of Jewish moneylenders; see Reinhold C. Mueller, “The Jewish Moneylenders of Late Trecento Venice: A Revisitation,” in Intercultural Contacts in the Medieval Mediterranean: Studies in Honour of David Jacoby, ed. Benjamin Arbel, special issue of Mediterranean Historical Review 10, nos. 1 / 2 (1995): 202–217; esp. 209. In the fifteenth ­century, the ­women recorded in notarial documents as conducting business activities ­were mostly w ­ idows who did so ­a fter their husbands’ demise. See Esposito, “Donne in casa, donne in piazza,” 171; Borgolotto Zetland, “Les juifs à Florence au temps de Cosme l’Ancien,” 78, 96–100. Sarah Rees Jones, “Public and Private Space and Gender in Medieval Eu­ rope,” in The Oxford Handbook of ­Women and Gender, ed. Bennett and Mazo Karras, 246–261; esp. 248–255. Stella Finzi ran the Jewish bank in Lendinara during her husband’s absence in 1453 (Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 266n33). On the difficulties of uncovering the contribution of married Jewish ­women to their ­family business, see Esposito, “Donne in casa, donne in piazza,” 171–173. Mele referred to all his sons, not just to Salomone, but the latter was his only son to have reached adulthood (Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 160). On Emanuele di Bonaventura of Volterra, his son Lazzaro, and other members of their ­family, see Alessandra Veronese, Una famiglia di

259

260

NOTES TO PAGES 18–19

banchieri ebrei tra XIV e XVI secolo: I da Volterra. Reti di credito nell’Italia del Rinascimento (Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 1998). 50. As suggested in his m ­ other’s testament in ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61. 51. That Salomone conducted business together with his brother-­in-­law Angelo di Museto is recorded in a notarial document of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). On Angelo di Museto, see Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 160. 52. Susan Mosher Stuard, Gilding the Market: Luxury Fashion in Fourteenth-­ Century Italy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 176– 178. In her discussion of the rise of goldsmiths in early Re­nais­sance Italy, Stuard observes: “Artisans and artists alike—­this industry epitomizes the predicament of drawing distinctions between craftsmen and artists in this era” (150). 53. Moses A. Shulvass, The Jews in the World of the Re­nais­sance (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 234. See also Cecil Roth, The History of the Jews of Italy (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of Amer­i­ca, 1946), 198–199. On Jewish appreciation of the visual arts in late medieval and Re­nais­sance Eu­rope, see Kalman P. Bland, The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2000), 141–153. 54. Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 248, notes the listing of Jewish names in the registers of the paint­ers’ guild in Re­nais­sance Perugia (see also Franz Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist before the Time of Emancipation,” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 [1941]: 321–413, esp. 365–372). As Toaff observes, however, not a single one of the Jews admitted to this guild achieved fame as an artist. It is therefore more plausible that they in fact worked as ­house paint­ers. 55. Joseph Shatzmiller, Cultural Exchange: Jews, Christians, and Art in the Medieval Marketplace (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2013), 5–21. On goldsmithery as one of the elite trades of Re­n ais­sance Eu­rope, see Pamela H. Smith, “In a Sixteenth-­Century Goldsmith’s Workshop,” in The Mindful Hand: Inquiry and Invention from the Late Re­nais­sance to Early Industrialisation, ed. Lissa Roberts, Simon Schaffer, and Peter Dear (Amsterdam: Royal Netherlands Acad­emy of Arts and Sciences, 2007), 33–57; esp. 44; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 153–154; R. A. Houston, “Towns and Urbanization,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Modern Eu­ro­pean History, 1350–1750, vol. 1, ­Peoples and Place, ed. Hamish M. Scott (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 479–508; esp. 489. 56. Maristella Botticini, “A Tale of ‘Benevolent’ Governments: Private Credit Markets, Public Finance, and the Role of Jewish Lenders in Medieval and Re­nais­sance Italy,” Journal of Economic History 60, no. 1 (March 2000): 164– 189; esp. 167–168.



NOTES TO PAGE 19

57. For the medieval background, see Shatzmiller, Cultural Exchange, 22–44. On fifteenth-­century Italy, see Esposito, Un’altra Roma, 113; Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 429 (doc. 1251); Shlomo Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua (Jerusalem: Kiryat Sepher, 1977), 263; Rachele Scuro, “Accanto al banco: Mestieri ebraici nella Terraferma veneta alla fine del medioevo,” in Gli ebrei nell’Italia centro settentrionale fra tardo Medioevo ed età moderna (secoli XV–­X VIII), ed. Marina Romani and Elisabetta Traniello (Rome: Bulzoni, 2012), 75–104; esp. 81, 97–98. 58. ­Because moneylending was associated with goldsmithing, whenever the concern of civic authorities over Jewish usury increased, it led to restrictions of their dealing in precious metals and stones, and of their engagement in gold and silver crafting. See Valeria Chilese, I mestieri e la città: Le corporazioni veronesi tra XV e XVIII secolo (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2012), 103n132. 59. Raffaella Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna nei secoli XIV e XV (Bologna: Clueb, 2007), 20. 60. John Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen: Goldsmiths (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), 22. In 1403, a Jewish jeweler in Venice wrote a short tract about gems in Hebrew, and in 1453 this work, followed by a list of the prices of precious stones, was copied by another Jew in Genoa. See Colette Sirat, “Les pierres précieuses et leurs prix au XVe siècle en Italie: D’après un manuscrit hébreu,” Annales: Historie, Sciences Sociales 23, no.  5 (September–­October 1968): 1067–1085. 61. Rachele Scuro, “La presenza ebraica a Vicenza e nel suo territorio nel Quattrocento,” Reti medievali 2 (2005): 103–121; esp. 113–115; Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 255. 62. Paola Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi: Storia, arte, moda (1450–1630) (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana Editoriale, 1996), 69. The gold and silver wares produced in Bologna ­were originally geared primarily ­toward the ecclesiastical market, although by the close of the ­fourteenth ­century Bolognese goldsmiths ­were already engaged in the production of luxury objects for secular use as well (Stuard, Gilding the Market, 10, 166–167). 63. Pini, “Mura e porta di Bologna medievale,” 222; see also Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 69. Only a few goldsmiths resided in the quartiere of Porta Ravennate, and most of the ­a ctual production of gold and silver items took place in other parts of Bologna (Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 41–46). Just one f­ amily of goldsmiths is known to have resided in Salomone’s cappella of San Bartolomeo in Porta Ravegnana in the 1480s, that of Alessandro di Bartolomeo Caxaro and his sons (Pini, 135). ­Earlier in the Quattrocento, the workshop of the Pellacane f­ amily of goldsmiths was located in the quartiere of Porta Ravennate (Pini, 85). 64. Jewelers and goldsmiths ­were occasionally required to appraise the value of luxury objects for members of the extended Gonzaga f­ amily; see

261

262

NOTES TO PAGES 20–21

Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Deanna Shemek (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Re­ nais­ sance Studies, 2017), 311, 315–316. 65. On the bishop-­elect and his patronage of Ermes Flavio, see Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 51; Molly Bourne, “The Art of Diplomacy: Mantua and the Gonzaga, 1328–1630,” in The Court Cities of Northern Italy: Milan, Parma, Piacenza, Mantua, Ferrara, Bologna, Urbino, Pesaro, and Rimini, ed. Charles M. Rosenberg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 138–195; esp. 160. 66. Umberto Rossi, “I medaglisti del Rinascimento alla corte di Mantova I: Ermes Flavio de Bonis,” Rivista Italiana di Numismatica 1 (1888), 25–40; esp. 26. 67. Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 9–11n36. On the establishment of a Monte di Pietà in Mantua, see Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli, Il denaro e la salvezza: L’invenzione del Monte di Pietà (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2001), 49–51. 68. Stuard, Gilding the Market, 153. 69. Raffaele Tamalio, “Gonzaga, Ludovico,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 57 (2001): 801–803. Two dif­fer­ent art historians, Ulrich Pfisterer and Markus Wesche, have identified Ermes Flavio de’ Bonis as Lysippus the Younger in recent years. See Gregory Harwell, “Review of Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 63, no. 2 (Summer 2010): 595–596, and Stephen J. Campbell, “Review of Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde,” Art Bulletin 93, no. 1 (March 2011): 105–108. 70. Adriano Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara in età umanistica e rinascimentale: Testimonianze archivistiche. Parte II, Tomo I: Dal 1472 al 1492 (Ferrara: Gabriele Corbo, 1993), 404–405 (doc. 598). 71. Evelyn Welch, Art and Society in Italy 1350–1500 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 44–45. 72. Elisabetta Traniello, “Ebrei in Polesine nel XV secolo: una presenza complessa,” in Le discipline orientalistiche come scienze storiche: Atti del 1o Incontro ‘Orientalisti’ (Roma, 6–7 Dicembre 2001), ed. Giuseppe Regalzi (Rome: Università degli Studi “La Sapienza,” 2003), 117–144; esp. 119, 131; Shlomo Simonsohn, Between Scylla and Charybdis: The Jews in Sicily (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 427. 73. Dora Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art in the Era of the City States and Ghettos,” in Gardens and Ghettos: The Art of Jewish Life in Italy, ed. Vivian B. Mann (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 111–136; esp. 120–121; Gian Maria Varanini, “Società cristiana e minoranza ebraica a Verona nella seconda metà del Quattrocento: Tra ideologia osservante e vita quotidiana,” Reti medievali 2 (2005): 141–162; esp. 153–154; Chilese, I mestieri e la città, 103–104; Mirna Bonazza, “Gli ebrei e le Arti a Ferrara: Tessere di memoria nelle carte dell’Archivio Storico Comunale,” in Ebrei a













NOTES TO PAGES 21–22

Ferrara (XII–­X X sec.): Vita quotidiana, socialità, cultura, ed. Giovanna Caniatti and Laura Graziani Secchieri (Ferrara: Ministero per i Beni e le Attività culturali, 2012), 19–26; esp. 20, and see Chapter 3. 74. Bologna was subject to the papacy in the f­ourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, but in the second half of the Quattrocento it enjoyed relative autonomy u ­ nder the hegemony of the local Bentivoglio ­family. In 1507, papal control of the city was reestablished, and it ­l ater became the Papal State’s “second city.” In papal Rome, the first Jews to practice the goldsmiths’ craft seem to have been Spanish exiles in the late fifteenth ­century. See Anna Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma tra Quattro e Cinquecento,” Quaderni storici 18, no. 54 (December 1983): 815–845; esp. 824. 75. Robert Bonfil, Jewish Life in Re­nais­sance Italy, trans. Anthony Oldcorn (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 93, argues that “membership in the craft and trade guilds was forbidden to Jews” throughout the Italian Peninsula, but local studies indicate that this prohibition was not universally enforced. In some places, Jews ­were in fact allowed membership in the urban guilds (Scuro, “Accanto al banco,” 81, 98; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 247–248; Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist,” 371). 76. Loevinson, “Notizie e dati statistici sugli ebrei entrati a Bologna,” 132. On Jews’ work as strazzaroli, see Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli, Gli inganni delle apparenze: Disciplina di vesti e ornamenti alla fine del Medioevo (Turin: Scriptorium, 1996), 83–84. 77. See the list published in the appendix of Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, esp. 121–136. 78. On the predominance of ecclesiastical commissions, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 166–167. In 1484, a Jewish goldsmith named Isaac da Bologna came to work in the court of Ferrante I of Aragon, king of Naples (Roth, ­ here is, however, no indication The History of the Jews of Italy, 114, 198–199). T that this Jew had ever actually lived in Bologna. It is more plausible that he was merely called “da Bologna” b ­ ecause this had been the birthplace of his ancestors, just as Salomone was called “da Sesso” ­because of the (distorted) name of his ­father’s provenance. 79. Benvenuto Cellini, Vita di Benvenuto Cellini: Testo critico con introduzione e note storiche, ed. Orazio Bacci (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1901), 19. C H A P T E R T W O  ​ ​T H E J E W I S H ­W I D O W ’ S T E S T A M E N T



1. On Ermes Flavio / Lysippus the Younger, see G. F. Hill, “The Medallist Lysippus,” Burlington Magazine 13, no. 65 (August 1908): 274–286; Markus Wesche, “Lysippus Unveiled: A Re­n ais­sance Medallist in Rome and His Humanist Friends,” The Medal 52 (Spring 2008): 4–13; Ulrich Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde: Liebesgaben und Gedächtnis im Rom der Re­nais­sance,

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oder: Das Este Jahrhundert der Medaille (Berlin: Akademie Verlag GmbH, 2008), esp. 206–209. 2. David S. Chambers, “Postscript on the Worldly Affairs of Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga and of Other Princely Cardinals,” in his Re­nais­sance Cardinals and Their Worldly Prob­lems (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 1–22; esp. 3; Andrea Canova, “Prime ricerche su Ludovico Gonzaga vescovo eletto di Mantova, con un documento inedito riguardante Andrea Mantegna,” Annali di storia moderna e contemporanea dell’Università Cattolica del sacro Cuore 2 (1996): 215–240. 3. Luke Syson and Dora Thornton, Objects of Virtue: Art in Re­nais­sance Italy (London: British Museum Press, 2001), 105–110, 118–119. 4. See Chapter 18. 5. Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 52–53; Shona Kelly Wray and Roisin Cossar, “­Wills as Primary Sources,” in Understanding Medieval Primary Sources: Using Historical Sources to Discover Medieval Eu­rope, ed. Joel T. Rosenthal (London: Routledge, 2012), 59–71; esp. 64–65. 6. For other cases in which Christian acquaintances acted as witnesses to Jewish w ­ omen’s w ­ ills in northern Italy, see Elisabetta Traniello, “Percorsi di donne ebree a Ferrara (XVI secolo),” in Margini di libertà: Testamenti femminili nel medioevo. Atti del convegno internazionale, Verona 23–25 ottobre 2008, ed. Maria Clara Rossi (Verona: Cierre, 2010), 457–474. 7. On the “fabri seu magnani” in late medieval Bologna, see Maria Gioia Tavoni, Gli statuti della Società dei fabbri dal 1252 al 1579 (Bologna: Presso la deputazione di storia patria, 1974), 7n10. On the small objects designated as “magnani” in the statutes of the blacksmiths’ guild in late medieval Bologna, see Tavoni, 52. 8. Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). 9. Witnesses to the redaction of w ­ ills in late medieval Bologna ­were often relatives (Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 209). 10. Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 29–32. 11. Silvia Amici, “L’uso delle stoviglie metalliche nel basso Medioevo: Appunti per una ricerca,” in Atti del I Congresso Nazionale di Archeologia Medievale (Pisa, 29–31 maggio 1997), ed. Sauro Gelichi (Florence: Edizioni all’Insegna del Giglio, 1997), 340–345. See also Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen, 7. 12. Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 15–16, 36nn22, 24. In Ferrara the goldsmiths ­were only separated from the blacksmiths to form their own guild in the late fifteenth c­ entury: Luigi Napoleone Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara, per la maggior parte inedite, ricavate da documenti ed illustrate (Ferrara: Tipografia Taddei, 1864), 682–683. 13. The goldsmiths’ formation of a separate guild reflected the growing demand for luxury goods in late medieval Bologna. See Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 13–18; Sarah Rubin Blanshei, Politics and Justice in Late Me-



NOTES TO PAGES 23–25

dieval Bologna (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 16–17; Muzzarelli, Gli inganni delle apparenze, 70. 14. Massimo Giansante, “Petronio e gli altri: Culti civici e culti corporativi a Bologna in età comunale,” in L’eredità culturale di Gina Fasoli: Atti del convegno di studi per il centenario della nascita (1905–2005), Bologna-­Bassano del Grappa, 24–25–26 novembre 2005, ed. F. Bocchi and G. M. Varanini (Rome: Istituto Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2008), 357–377. On the shared devotion of all metalworkers to St. Eligius in other cities, see Sidney J. A. Churchill, “The Goldsmiths of Rome u ­ nder the Papal Authority: Their Statutes Hitherto Discovered and a Bibliography,” Papers of the British School at Rome 4, no. 2 (1907), 163–226; esp. 168. For the popularity of this saint’s cult, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 152–153. 15. For the location of t­ hese two parishes, see the map in Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 266–267. 16. Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 16. In the early seventeenth ­century, Girolamo Borsieri (1588–1629) of Como recalled the youthful fascination with which he used to observe the work of smiths. 17. See Peter Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance: Culture and Society in Italy, rev. ed. (1987; repr., Cambridge: Polity Press, 1995), 45–47. 18. The presence of a member of the clergy, preferably from the testator’s parish, was required in late medieval Bologna to confirm the identity and the ­mental capacity of a female testator: Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 53; Shona Kelly Wray, “Four Bolognese ­Wills (1337),” in Medieval Italy: Texts in Translation, ed. Katherine L. Jansen, Joanna Drell, and Frances Andrews (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), 517–520; esp. 517. 19. Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). For the role of principal witnesses in guaranteeing the sound mind of Bolognese testators, see Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 99; on testators’ tendency to choose witnesses from their neighborhood see Kelly Wray, 218–219. 20. Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 33, argues that in Umbria girls from the lower echelons of Jewish society only got married in their early twenties, whereas ­those from wealthier families w ­ ere married before they reached age twenty. See also Roni Weinstein, Marriage Rituals Italian Style: A Historical Anthropological Perspective on Early Modern Italian Jews (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 57–67. 21. See Kelly Wray and Cossar, “­Wills as Primary Sources,” 70. 22. On Curialti, see Giorgio Tamba, La società dei notai di Bologna (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, 1988), 231, 235–236, 238. By the time Ricca hired him for the job, Curialti had been working as a notary in Bologna for more than twenty years. Some of the notarial acts that he redacted in 1465–1485 w ­ ere published in Chartularium studii bononiensis: Documenti per la storia dell’università di Bologna dalle origini fino al secolo XV (Bologna, 1909), 344–345, 356–357, 359–361, 363–367, 369–374, 376–383.

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­ hese do not include the documents that he drafted for Jewish clients, T some of which are preserved in ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, Filza 12A (1476–1493), cc. 78, 87, 127, 138, 140, 157. 23. Ricca’s husband had done the same when redacting his testament (Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 151n25). 24. On this common practice, see Scuro, “Accanto al banco,” 102–103. 25. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 146n12. 26. Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). 27. On David, the son of Joseph, see Muzzarelli, “I banchieri ebrei e la città,” esp. 144–148; on Ventura, the son of Museto, see Muzzarelli, 147, 150–151; Rinaldi, “Topografia documentaria,” 60; on “David del fu Ioseph Ventura da Bologna,” see Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 2:629 (doc. 49). 28. Ricca claimed to have already paid ten gold ducats for covering Salomone’s debt to “Manuele Greco,” which was paid directly to Lazzaro da Volterra, to whom Manuele owed money (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). 29. The men who acted as mundualdus for widowed ­women in fifteenth-­ century Florence had often had previous ties to their late husbands ­ amily, and ­Women, 226). On Emanuele di Bonaventura da (Kuehn, Law, F Volterra and his ties with Mele and Ricca, see Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 150, 157, 160, 163. In 1494, three years ­a fter Salomone’s conversion to Chris­t ian­ity, he had further dealings with Emanuele’s son Lazzaro (Borgolotto, 167). 30. Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61): “iubens et mandans ipsa Testatrix ipsum Salamonem fore et esse tacitum et contentum relictis predictis pro omni legiptima et pro omni et toto quod sibi deberetur in bonis et hereditate de testatrici ad iure.” I am grateful to Prof. Benjamin Arbel for his helpful comments regarding my transcription of this testament. 31. On Re­nais­sance taverns, see Guido Ruggiero, Machiavelli in Love: Sex, Self, and Society in the Italian Re­nais­sance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), 95–96. For a Perugian Jew ­r unning a tavern in which both Christians and Jews engaged in illicit gambling, see Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 144–145. In 1519, a gaming hall in which Jews could ­gamble with Christians was established in Mantua (Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 258). 32. See Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 181–182; Cecil Roth, “I giocatori pentiti di Ferrara,” La rassegna mensile di Israel 28, nos. 3–4 (March–­April 1962): 248–251; Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 828; Esposito, Un’altra Roma, 158–159; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 143–146; Natalie Zemon Davis, “Leon Modena’s Life as an Early Modern Autobiography,”



NOTES TO PAGES 26–28

History and Theory 27, no. 4 (December 1988): 103–118; esp. 109; Elliott Horo­w itz, “The Eve of Circumcision: A Chapter in the History of Jewish Nightlife,” Journal of Social History 23, no. 1 (Autumn 1989): 45–69; esp. 49–50. 33. The letter was addressed to the Duke of Ferrara (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 6, cc. 14–15). 34. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 452, and ad indicem; Zambotti, Diario ferrarese, 45; Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 258. 35. See Chapter 10. 36. See Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 241–247; Kelly Wray and Cossar, “­Wills as Primary Sources,” 66–67. 37. See Vito Rovigo, “Publicum instrumentum scriptum in lingua et littera ebraicha: La documentazione di una minoranza tra autonomia documentaria e vocazioni maggioritarie,” in Margini di libertà, ed. Rossi, 407–433; esp. 412– 413; Traniello, “Percorsi di donne ebree a Ferrara,” 461. 38. On this practice, see Miriam Davide, “I Testamenti delle donne nelle comunità ebraiche askenazite e in quelle di origine italiana dell’Italia settentrionale (XIV–­X VI secolo),” in Margini di libertà, ed. Rossi, 435–456; esp. 444. 39. See Traniello, “Percorsi di donne ebree a Ferrara,” 461; Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 238–247; Kelly Wray and Cossar, “­Wills as Primary Sources,” 66–67. 40. See Stow, Catholic Thought, 104–105n17. 41. In 1487, “Salamone, the Jewish goldsmith,” was already working for Francesco Gonzaga, the Marquis of Mantua, as noted in ASMo, Camera Ducale [hereafter CD], Libri camerali diversi, no. 159, c. lxi. His f­ amily continued to reside in Bologna u ­ ntil the summer of 1489 (notarial document of August 21, 1489, in ASFe, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 42. For the situation in Bologna, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 166–167. 43. Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 255, 259–260, 271, 307, 515. 44. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 45; Valerie Taylor, “Silver and Gold: A Case Study of Material Culture in Re­n ais­sance Mantua,” Comitatus 39 (2008):  155–197; esp. 167–171. Taylor remarks that Salomone’s ­brother was also a goldsmith in Ferrara, but since his two male siblings never reached adulthood, this could not have been the case and appears to be a confusion between Salomone / Ercole and his son Graziadio / Alfonso, whose b ­ rother Joseph / Ferrante did in fact become an established goldsmith (see Chapter 15). 45. Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara in età umanistica e rinascimentale: Testimonianze archivistiche. Parte II, Tomo I, 404–405 (doc. 598).

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46. ASMo, CD, Amministrazione dei principi [hereafter AP], no.  633, c. 99r : “Salamone da Saso ebreo orevexe.” On Duchess Eleonora, see Luciano Chiappini, “Eleonora d’Aragona, prima duchessa di Ferrara,” Atti e Memorie della Deputazione Ferrarese di Storia Patria 6 (1956): 1–156; Werner L. Gundersheimer, “­Women, Learning, and Power: Eleonora of Aragon and the Court of Ferrara,” in Beyond Their Sex: Learned ­Women of the Eu­ro­pean Past, ed. Patricia  H. Labalme (New York: NYU Press, 1980), 43–56. 47. On the Este rulers’ Camera Ducale, see Folin, Rinascimento estense, 134–139; Guido Guerzoni, “La Camera Ducale Estense tra Quattro e Cinquecento: La struttura organizzativa e i meccanismi operativi,” in Storia di Ferrara, vol. 6, Il Rinascimento: Situazioni e personaggi, ed. Adriano Prosperi (Ferrara: Corbo, 2000), 160–183. 48. ASMo, CD, Libri camerali diversi, no. 159, c. lxi: “A Leone hebreo hosto de drio dal Paradixo, adì iiii de dexembre lire octo, soldi octo de marchesani, per sua mercede de haver facto le spexe pasti quaranta octo in raxone de soldi 3 el pasto a Salamone hebreo orevexe de lo Illustrissimo Marchexe de Mantoa, alozato in soa hostaria a spexe de la Camera, como al Memoriale L. VIII. VIII.” 49. The Ferrarese lira marchesana was an artificial currency of account, which was divided into twenty soldi that w ­ ere further divided into twelve denari. In the late fifteenth ­century, one golden ducat (which was an ­actual coin) was exchanged at the rate of sixty-­t hree soldi to the ducat. See Thomas Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara: Ercole d’Este, 1471–1505, and the Invention of a Ducal Capital (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), xxii. 50. Laura Graziani Secchieri, “Ebrei italiani, askenaziti e sefarditi a Ferrara: Un’analisi topografica dell’insediamento e delle sue trasformazioni (secoli XII–­X VI),” in Gli ebrei nello Stato della chiesa: Insediamenti e mobilità (secoli XIV–­X VIII), ed. Marina Caffiero and Anna Esposito (Padua: Esedra, 2012), 163–190; esp. 179–180, 164n4. 51. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 336, 424, 425, 427 (docs. 910, 1226, 1231, 1242). 52. Scuro, “Accanto al banco,” 92–93; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 99. On traveling Jews who lodged in Jewish osterie in fifteenth-­century Italy, see also Isaiah Sonne, “For the History of the [Jewish] Community in Bologna at the Beginning of the Sixteenth C ­ entury,” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 (1941): *35–­*98; esp. 51–52 [in Hebrew]. On the Ferrarese hostelry, see Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 310 (doc. 819). 53. Flora Cassen, “The Sausage in the Jews’ Pantry: Food and Jewish-­Christian Relations in Re­n ais­sance Italy,” in Global Jewish Foodways: A History, ed. Hasia R. Diner and Simone Cinotto (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2018), 27–49. See also Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 81–108. Since Jewish law prohibited the consumption of food prepared by Christians, canon law



NOTES TO PAGES 29–30

forbade Christians to eat at the ­table of Jews, arguing that this amounted to insulting the faith by implying that Christians w ­ ere inferior to Jews (Stow, Catholic Thought, 95–96, 296). 54. The payments that Leone required from other Jews who ­were staying at his osteria are recorded in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 424, 425 (docs. 1226, 1231). 55. Following Jacob Burckhardt’s idealized portrayal of Re­n ais­sance life, leading twentieth-­century scholars have stressed the fruitful interaction between Jews and Christians in the princely states of fifteenth-­century Italy (Roth, The History of the Jews of Italy, 115; Shulvass, The Jews in the World of the Re­nais­sance; Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist,” 371–375). For a more nuanced description of Jewish-­Christian mingling in ­t hese settings, see David  B. Ruderman, “At the Intersection of Cultures: The Historical Legacy of Italian Jewry,” in Gardens and Ghettos, ed. Mann, 1–23; esp. 8–10; Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art,” 121. 56. On the major debates concerning Jewish participation in Italian Re­nais­ sance culture, see David B. Ruderman, “Introduction,” in Essential Papers on Jewish Culture in Re­nais­sance and Baroque Italy, ed. David B. Ruderman (New York: New York University Press, 1992), 1–39; Joshua Teplitsky, “Jews,” in Oxford Biblio­g raphies in Re­nais­sance and Reformation, ed. Margaret L. King (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), published online: http://­w ww​ .­oxfordbibliographies​ .­com​/­v iew​/­document​/­obo​-­9780195399301​ /­o bo​ -­9780195399301​- ­0079​.­xml;jsessionid​=­1BBB53218353803A3CB1C80367E BABF5 (accessed May 10, 2019). C H A P T E R T H R E E  ​ ​E L E O N O R A O F A R A G O N ’ S COURT GOLDSMITH







1. Marcello Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento: Gli artisti e la corte (Ferrara: Edisai, 2010), 113–116, 380–387. 2. In her letter to Francesco Gonzaga of August 20, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 177), Eleonora of Aragon asks the marquis to grant a ­favor to “Salamone hebreo nostro Aurifice.” In her letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194), Eleonora reports the incarceration of “Salamon hebreo nostro orevese.” 3. Isabella d’Este designated him in her letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r) as “Salomone da Sesso hebreo et aurifice dilectissimo de la Illustrissima nostra madre.” 4. Guido Guerzoni, “Strangers at Home: The Courts of Este Princesses between the XVth and XVIIth Centuries,” in Moving Elites: ­Women and Cultural Transfers in the Eu­ro­pean Court System. Proceedings of an International Workshop (Florence, 12–13 December 2008), ed. Giulia Calvi and Isabelle Chabot (San Domenico di Fiesole: Eu­ro­pean University Institute, 2010),

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141–156; esp. 152; Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan: The Art Market in Italy, 1400– 1700 (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2011), 7. 5. Just three years ­earlier, in 1484, Eleonora’s ­father, Ferrante I of Aragon (1431–1494), king of Naples, commissioned works from another Jewish goldsmith (Roth, The History of the Jews of Italy, 198–199). 6. On the contribution of such traits to artistic innovation, see Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 50–51. 7. The stipends of court goldsmiths ­were lower than ­those of court paint­ers. On court artists in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, see Guido Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts: The Case of d’Este of Ferrara (1471–1560),” in Art Markets in Eu­rope, 1400–1800, ed. Michael North and David Ormrod (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 61–80; esp. 64–65; Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 15–30. On the terms of employment of salaried servants of the Este court in general, see Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 46–47; Marco Folin, “Note sugli officiali negli Stati estensi (secoli XV–­X VI),” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa: Quaderni della Classe di lettere e filosofia, ser. 4, 1 (1997): 99–155; esp. 103–105. 8. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 633, c. 99r: “E a dì 21 dicto Lire Sei de marchesana per sua signoria a Salamone da Saso ebreo orevexe . . . ​per conto de soi salarii.” See also Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307. 9. ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489, notarial document drafted on August 21, 1489: “habitans Bononiae nunc moram trahens Ferrarie”; ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489, notarial document of December 17, 1489: “habitator de presenti Ferrarie.” “Habitator de presenti” was a common form of identifying non-­Ferrarese Jews (Graziani Secchieri, “Ebrei italiani, askenaziti e sefarditi a Ferrara,” 174–179) and was meant to denote that the goldsmith was a foreigner; nonetheless, the fact that he was no longer described as a resident of Bologna indicates that by December  17 he had settled in Ferrara. 10. See Michele Luzzati, “Northern and Central Italy: Assessment of Research and Further Prospects,” in The Jews of Eu­rope in the ­Middle Ages (Tenth to Fifteenth Centuries): Proceedings of the International Symposium held at Speyer, 20–25 October 2002, ed. Christoph Cluse (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), 191– 199; Luzzati, “Again on the Mobility of Italian Jews between the M ­ iddle Ages and the Re­n ais­sance,” in The Italia Judaica Jubilee Conference, ed. Shlomo Simonsohn and Joseph Shatzmiller (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 97–106. 11. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 157, 169, 175, 180, 227–228, 233– 234, 239, 243, 245 (docs. 429, 462, 478–479, 495, 551, 620, 629–630, 643, 649); Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 1:13– 14; Elisabetta Traniello, “Di Ferrara ma non a Ferrara: I rapporti tra i nuclei ebraici del Polesine di Rovigo e gli ebrei di Ferrara in età estense,” in



12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

NOTES TO PAGES 31–33

Ebrei a Ferrara, ebrei di Ferrara: Aspetti culturali, economici e sociali della presenza ebraica a Ferrara (secc. XIII–­X X), ed. Laura Graziani Secchieri (Florence: Giuntina, 2014), 39–59; esp. 42n12, suggests that Salomone’s m ­ other also moved to Ferrara ­toward the end of her life, “perhaps in order to get close to the area and familial context that she had originally come from” (my translation). I have not come across any evidence of Ricca’s presence in Ferrara. The fact that her last w ­ ill was redacted in Bologna in September 1485 and that her son and son-­in-­law w ­ ere already quarreling over her inheritance in August 1489 indicates that she died within t­ hose four years, although it does not preclude the possibility that she moved to Ferrara in 1487, when Salomone began working in this city. Deanna Shemek, “ ‘Ci ci’ and ‘pa pa’: Script, Mimicry, and Mediation in Isabella d’Este’s Letters,” Rinascimento, seconda serie, 43 (2005): 75–91; esp. 76; Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 64–66. Abramo Pesaro, Memorie storiche sulla comunità israelitica ferrarese (Ferrara: Tipografia sociale, 1878–1880; repr., Bologna: Forni, 1967), 15–18; Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 52–53, 62–63, 73–74, 80; Werner L. Gundersheimer, Ferrara: The Style of a Re­nais­sance Despotism (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1973), 206–207. On the foundation of Ferrara’s first permanent synagogue, see Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 25. Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art,” 111. Mordechai Narkiss, “An Italian Niello Casket of the Fifteenth ­Century,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institute 21, nos. 3  /  4 (July–­ December 1958): 288–295; esp. 294. See the cofanetto’s description in the “Cata­logue of the Exhibition,” in Gar­ owards a dens and Ghettos, ed. Mann, 309–310; David Biale, “Preface: T Cultural History of the Jews,” in Cultures of the Jews, ed. Biale, xvii–­x xxiii; esp. xvii–­x viii. On jewelry making as goldsmiths’ lucrative specialty, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 145–150; R. W. Lightbown, Secular Goldsmiths’ Work in Medieval France: A History (London: Society of Antiquaries of London, 1978), 85. Evelyn Welch, “Art on the Edge: Hair and Hands in Re­nais­sance Italy,” Re­ nais­sance Studies 23, no. 3 (2008): 241–268; esp. 241–243; Welch, “Scented Buttons and Perfumed Gloves: Smelling T ­ hings in Re­nais­sance Italy,” in Ornamentalism: The Art of Re­nais­sance Accessories, ed. Bella Mirabella (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2011), 13–39. For a critique of the scholarly fascination with the material culture of Re­n ais­sance Italy’s propertied elites, see Samuel Cohn, “Re­n ais­sance Attachment to T ­ hings: Material Culture in Last ­Wills and Testaments,” Economic History Review 65, no. 3 (August 2012): 984–1004. Patricia L. Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Italian Re­nais­sance, ed. Michael Wyatt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 84–99; esp. 96.

271

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NOTES TO PAGES 33–34

21. Traniello, “Essere donna, ebrea, italiana.” In a notarial act redacted on December  17, 1489 (in ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489), Salomone’s brother-­ in-­law Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio already referred to a w ­ oman named Rosa as his wife, which means that Pinta had died at least a year e­ arlier. 22. For the economic ties between San Felice and nearby Ferrara see Folin, Rinascimento estense, 104–105, 172, 184. On the Jewish community of San Felice, see Luca Baraldi, “Sguardi dall’interno: La predicazione di Mordekhay Dato tra ‘bona raccolta’ e ‘mala compania,’ ” in Ebrei a Ferrara, ebrei di Ferrara, ed. Graziani Secchieri, 193–211; esp. 195–196, 209. 23. Notarial document of March 31, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489), noted in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 424 (doc. 1225). Other loans made by Ferrarese Jews to their coreligionists at no interest are noted in Franceschini, 423–424, 442 (docs. 1214–1215, 1218, 1223, 1315). Angelo, Museto’s f­ ather, is identified as a resident of San Felice in a notarial document of December 17, 1489, in Franceschini, 429 (doc. 1247). 24. Although most Bolognese testaments ­were not seriously revised ­a fter the testator’s demise, inheritance was a dynamic pro­cess, in which a last ­w ill could be challenged following a person’s death (Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 32–36). For the more frequent contesting of ­w ills in fifteenth-­century Florence, see Kuehn, Law, F ­ amily, and ­Women, 15, 246–253. 25. On this common practice, see Kuehn, Law, F ­ amily, and ­Women, 19–74. 26. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 427 (doc. 1238). On Liucio’s f­ ather, Museto, whose f­ amily had settled in Rovere ­earlier in the fifteenth c­ entury and had marital ties with the Finzi living in the Polesine region, see Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 281–282. On Manuele da Norsa (or Norcia), see Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 14–15. 27. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone,” 158n48; Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 205–209 (doc. 551). Joseph, the son of Zinatan Finzi, who may have been the b ­ rother of Salomone da Sesso’s wife, was Manuele da Norsa’s associate in r­ unning the bank in Reggio Emilia (Franceschini, 428 [doc. 1243 bis]). 28. Notarial document of August 21, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 29. Stephen Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros: Re­nais­sance Mythological Painting and the Studiolo of Isabella d’Este (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2004), 55–56. 30. A notarial document of March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc.



NOTES TO PAGES 34–35

76v–77r), rec­ords Manuele Norsa’s handing over of 110 florins, defined as the remainder of the sum that Norsa had kept for the goldsmith, as per a notarial act drafted by Giacobo Vincenzi (“Et hoc pro resto florenorum . . . ​ in quibus ipsi Manueli tenebatur dicto Herculi ex instrumento rogato per ser Iacobum de Vincentiis notarium”). 31. Notarial document of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 32. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 33. See Horo­w itz, “Families and Their Fortunes,” 598. 34. For the dowries of Ricca and her d ­ aughter, Pinta, see Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 269; Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 147, 149. On the relative value of the florin and the ducat, the two major gold coins in use in fifteenth-­century Italy, see Peter Spufford, Money and Its Use in Medieval Eu­ rope (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 319–338. 35. Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 825–827; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 27–33; Pierre Savy, “Patrimoine, conflits, conversions: Les dots juives en Lombardie (XVe–­milieu XVIe siècle),” in La fabrique des sociétés médiévales méditerranéennes: Les Moyen Âge de François Menant, ed. Diane Chamboduc de Saint Pulgent and Marie Dejoux (Paris: Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2018), 59–70; esp. 59–66. 36. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 632, c. 2v : “uno cordo d’oro facto a gropi de Santo Francesco.” 37. Carole Collier Frick, Dressing Re­nais­sance Florence: Families, Fortunes, and Fine Clothing (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 46, 234, 306; Chiara Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” in Isabella d’Este: La primadonna del Rinascimento, 2nd ed., ed. Daniele Bini (Modena: Il Bulino, 2006), 209–223; esp. 220. 38. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 632, c. 2v: “Maestro Jacomino orevexe cento e Salamone zudio cento. Maestro Jacomino feze una catena e dicto Salamone per compiere uno cordo d’oro.” 39. Adolfo Venturi, “Giacomino da Cremona, orafo del XV secolo,” L’arte: Rivista di storia dell’arte medievale e moderna 1 (1898): 490–493; Venturi, “Le arti minori a Ferrara nella fine del secolo XV: L’Oreficeria,” L’arte: Rivista di storia dell’arte medievale e moderna 12 (1909): 447–455; esp. 450. 40. Smith, “In a Sixteenth-­Century Goldsmith’s Workshop,” 39n19. On the use of this appellation for skilled artisans, see Deanna Shemek, “Introduction,” in Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 1–19; esp. 19n41. 41. Significantly, in the 1555 papal bull Cum nimis absurdum, the prohibition on addressing Jews with honorific appellations such as “Master” was reiterated among the anti-­Jewish mea­sures to be enforced in the attempts to induce Jewish conversions (Stow, Catholic Thought, 3–8, 296).

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C H A P T E R F O U R  ​ ​A M U R D E R E D C H I L D

1. Deanna Shemek, “Isabella d’Este and the Properties of Persuasion,” in ­Women’s Letters across Eu­rope, 1400–1700: Form and Persuasion, ed. Jane Couchman and Ann Crabb (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 123–140; esp. 125– 127; Shemek, “ ‘Ci ci’ and ‘pa pa,’ ” 77. 2. On the fifty-­t hree volumes of Isabella’s copialettere, see Deanna Shemek, “In Continuous Expectation: Isabella d’Este’s Epistolary Desire,” in Phaethon’s ­Children: The Este Court and Its Culture in Early Modern Ferrara, ed. Dennis Looney and Deanna Shemek (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Re­nais­sance Studies, 2005), 269–300; esp. 277; Sarah D. P. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga: Power Sharing at the Italian Re­nais­sance Court (Burlington: Ashgate, 2013), 28n4. 3. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 12, 1490 (ASMn, AG, busta 1184): “Il rimase cum voi lo hebreo orefice, e perché ne habiamo bisogno per certe nostre facende però lo potereti adviare qua prestissimo a noi se ne potiamo servire.” 4. On court goldsmiths’ obligations to their principal patrons, see Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 172. 5. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of March 24, 1490 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 14v); En­glish translation in Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 30. 6. As stipulated in the notarial document of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 7. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 25, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1184). 8. Mantua’s massaro generale in 1491 was Cristoforo Gori da Lonigo: Matteo Basora, “Tra le carte della marchesa: Inventario delle lettere di Isabella d’Este, con un’analisi testuale e sintattica” (PhD diss., Università degli Studi di Macerata, 2017), 13, 16–18; Carlo D’Arco, Delle arti e degli artefici di Mantova: Notizie raccolte ed illustrate con disegni e con documenti (Mantua: Benvenuti, 1859), 26n1. 9. Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 62–63; Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 159–161. 10. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of March 22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 82v): “Questa matina ho facto renovare la crida de li hebrei per la septimana sancta secundo el consueto, exceptuando Salomone da Sesso cum tri suoi garzoni, quali impune possino andare per la terra, sendo me ha facto dire el Massaro generale havere commissione da Vostra Signoria.” The text of the original version of this letter (in ASMn, AG, busta 2107, fasc. II, c. 103r) is identical, though it bears the date of March 26, 1491, which, in light of Francesco’s response to the missive—­ sent on March 26—­appears to be an error. The partial transcription of



NOTES TO PAGES 37–38

the letter in Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 88n6, does not include the part pertaining to Salomone. 11. The assault led Francesco Gonzaga to issue a second proclamation, right ­a fter Easter Sunday, increasing the punishment to be meted out to t­ hose who physically attacked Jews during Holy Week: Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 11–12; Dana E. Katz, The Jew in the Art of the Italian Re­nais­sance (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 45. 12. See Daniel Jütte, “ ‘They ­Shall Not Keep Their Doors or Win­dows Open’: Urban Space and the Dynamics of Conflict and Contact in Premodern Jewish-­Christian Relations,” Eu­ro­pean History Quarterly 46, no.  2 (2016): 209–236; esp. 211–212. 13. The Jews of Mantua had sent a similar request to their marquis in 1475 (Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 13n46). 14. Protest sent to Duke Ercole d’Este on behalf of the Jewish moneylenders in Ferrara on April 2, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 23 / B). Loan banks ­were generally located in the central part of town, and their exterior appearance was meant to protect clients from the shame associated with having to rely on their ser­v ices (Bonfil, Jewish Life in Re­nais­ sance Italy, 90–93). 15. The letter does not explic­itly mention the preacher’s name, but Fra Mariano was the one who preached the Lent cycle in Ferrara’s cathedral in both 1490 and 1491, attracting a notable crowd and arousing Duke Ercole’s admiration. See Ugo Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, in Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria. Serie Monumenti 18 (2006): 787–790; David Gutiérrez, “Testi e note su Mariano da Genazzano (+1498),” Annalecta Augustiniana 32 (1969): 117–204; esp. 122–123, 138–139; Marco Folin, “Finte stigmate, monache e ossa di morti. Sul ‘Buon uso della religione’ in alcune lettere di Ercole I d’Este e Felino Sandei,” Archivio italiano per la storia della pietà 11 (1998): 181–244; esp. 225n120. 16. Fra Mariano urged Duke Ercole to allow the establishment of a charitable foundation, the Scuola dei poveri vergognosi, which would collect alms to be dispensed to Ferrara’s shamefaced poor as an alternative to Jewish moneylending (Zambotti, Diario ferrarese, 221; Gutiérrez, “Testi e note su Mariano da Genazzano,” 117–128). As the Ferrarese Jews insinuated in their petition, this initiative proved particularly effective when combined with the confinement of the Jews during Holy Week, which forced clients in need to come to their homes rather than meet them discreetly to obtain a loan (Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 437 [doc. 1295]). 17. The discovery of the baby’s corpse is noted in Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 237. 18. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of March 22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 82v).

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19. Ronnie Po-­chia Hsia, The Myth of Ritual Murder: Jews and Magic in Reformation Germany (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1988), 5. 20. David Malkiel, “Infanticide in Passover Iconography,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 56 (1993): 85–99; esp. 97–98. 21. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of March 22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 82v): “Illustrissimo Signore mio, essendo questa mattina è sta ritrovato [sic] una puttina che può essere de quatro zorni morta al’incontro de la casa de Maestro Petro Francisco Benaduso apreso una feriata ne la quale se vediva volso essere posta per forza, perché è tutta schizata, amachata, et sanguinata che era una compassione a vederla. M’è parso darne aviso a La Vostra Excellentia, per essere caso molto abhominevole et da farne a publico terrore qualche publica indagatione, aciò che la Excellentia Vostra possi farli quella provisione gli parerà, et in sua bona gratia me raccomando. Questa matina ho facto renovare la crida de li hebrei per la septimana sancta secundo el consueto, exceptuando Salomone da Sesso cum tri suoi garzoni, quali impune possino andare per la terra, sendo me ha facto dire el Massaro generale havere commissione da Vostra Signoria.” 22. For the anti-­Jewish vio­lence sparked by the discoveries of t­ hese girls’ corpses, see Alfred Haverkamp, “Baptised Jews in German Lands during the Twelfth C ­ entury,” in Jews and Christians in Twelfth-­Century Eu­rope, ed. Michael A. Signer and John Van Engen (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001), 255–310; esp. 261–262; Norman Roth, “Blood Libel,” in Medieval Jewish Civilization: An Encyclopedia, ed. Norman Roth (New York: Routledge, 2003), 119–121; esp. 120; Mathew Kuefler, “Anderl of Rinn, the Accusation of Jewish Ritual Murder, and the Historical Memory of Childhood,” Journal of the History of Childhood and Youth 2, no. 1 (Winter 2009): 9–36; esp. 31n20. The l­ ater blood libel in the Bohemian town of Litomischel (Litomĕricĕ) in 1574 was similarly caused by the finding of a murdered girl’s corpse (Po-­chia Hsia, The Myth of Ritual Murder, 203–204). 23. M. A. Katritzky, Healing, Per­for­mance and Ceremony in the Writings of Three Early Modern Physicians: Hyppolytus Guarinonius and the ­Brothers Felix and Thomas Platter (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), 91; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 51–52. 24. An account of Simon’s alleged murder was published in Mantua a few weeks a­ fter his death: Stephen Bowd, “Tales from Trent: The Construction of ‘Saint’ Simon in Manuscript and Print,” in The Saint between Manuscript and Print: Italy, 1400–1600, ed. Alison K. Frazier (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Re­ n ais­ sance Studies, 2015), 183–218; esp. 206–207, 213–214. 25. Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 11; Dana E. Katz, “Painting and the Politics of Persecution: Representing the Jew in



26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

NOTES TO PAGES 39–40

Fifteenth- ­Century Mantua,” Art History 23, no. 4 (November 2000): 475– 495; esp. 482–486; Malkiel, “Infanticide in Passover Iconography,” 97; Stephen Bowd and J. Donald Cullington, eds., “On Every­one’s Lips”: Humanists, Jews, and the Tale of Simon of Trent (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Re­n ais­sance Studies, 2012), 216, 231. On Francesco Gonzaga’s devotion to Simon of Trent, see David S. Chambers, “Mantua and Trent in the L ­ ater Fifteenth C ­ entury,” in Chambers, Individuals and Institutions in Re­nais­sance Italy (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 80–82. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 26, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2107, fasc. I.1, c. 5r; copied into ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 137, c. 12r). The discussion of the case in Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 88–89, ends with Francesco’s authorization of its investigation. Chambers and Dean (Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 237) note Isabella’s outrage over the girl’s murder and her determination to pursue its detection. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “narrando poi ultimamente il miracolo accaduto a Mantua, di quella puta hebraica.” Francesco da Bagnacavallo served as the secretary and guardarobiere (wardrobe master) of Anna Sforza, first wife of Alfonso d’Este, who treated him as one of her closest confidants. See Roberta Iotti, “Dame madame e madonne: Le ricchezze e le eleganze di corte negli inventari di alcune tra le più celebri principesse italiane del Rinascimento,” in Commentario al codice Stivini: Inventario della collezione di Isabella d’Este nello Studiolo e nella Grotta di Corte Vecchia in Palazzo Ducale a Mantova, ed. Roberta Iotti, Daniela Ferrari, Claudia Cieri Via, Leandro Ventura, and Clifford M. Brown (Modena: Il Bulino, 1995), 7–11; esp. 9; Iotti, Rinascimento spezzato: Vita e morte di Anna Sforza d’Este (1476–1497) (Modena: Terra e Identità, 2006), 148–149. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “digando che lo odio li era venuto dali zudei de Mantoa, per quello miraculo della gloriosa nostra dona [sic] in quello puto che morì al tempo passato como Vostra Signoria è informatissima.” A similar confusion may be found in Gundersheimer, Ferrara, 203, which argues that the attack on the Jewish bank in Ferrara in 1481 followed allegations that Jews had kidnapped a ­l ittle girl in order to crucify her, although the chronicle that this contention is based on rec­ords rumors concerning a dead Christian boy (Zambotti, Diario ferrarese, 92: “uno putino”). Miri Rubin, “The Passion of Mary: The Virgin and the Jews in Medieval Culture,” in The Passion Story: From Visual Repre­sen­ta­tion to Social Drama, ed.

277

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NOTES TO PAGES 40–42

Marcia Kupfer (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2008), 53–66; esp. 60–63. 34. Po- ­chia Hsia, The Myth of Ritual Murder, 58–59. 35. Kenneth Stow, Jewish Dogs: An Image and Its Interpreters. Continuity in the Catholic-­Jewish Encounter (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2006), 27; Miri Rubin, ­Mother of God: A History of the Virgin Mary (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009), 226–236. See also Denise L. Despres, “Immaculate Flesh and the Social Body: Mary and the Jews,” Jewish History 12, no. 1 (Spring 1998): 47–69; Francisco Prado-­Vilar, “Life, Law, and Identity in the ‘State of Exception’ Called ‘Marian Miracle,’ ” in Judaism and Christian Art: Aesthetic Anx­i­eties from the Catacombs to Colonialism, ed. Herbert L. Kessler and David Nirenberg (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 115–142. 36. Miri Rubin, Gentile Tales: The Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999), 18, 155–156; Dana E. Katz, “The Contours of Tolerance: Jews and the Corpus Domini Altarpiece in Urbino,” Art Bulletin 85, no. 4 (December 2003): 646–661; esp. 653–655. 37. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132). 38. See Carolyn James, “An Insatiable Appetite for News: Isabella d’Este and a Bolognese Correspondent,” in Rituals, Images, and Words: The Va­r i­e­ties of Cultural Expression in Late Medieval and Early Modern Eu­rope, ed. F. W. Kent and Charles Zika (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), 375–388; esp. 388. In the summer of 1491, Bernardino de’ Prosperi also corresponded with Eleonora of Aragon (ASMo, ASE, Cancelleria marchionale poi ducale Estense, Carteggio di referendari, consiglieri, cancellieri e segretari, busta 4). The ducal cancellieri filled an influential position at the Este court, which entailed substantial economic advantages (Folin, Rinascimento estense, 156– 160). On Bagnacavallo, who obtained pieces of jewelry for Isabella in her home city, see Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 42–43. For his friendly relations with the marchesa, see also Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 62–63. 39. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Bernardino de’ Prosperi of September  27, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1). In February  1493, Isabella once again expressed her content with Bernardino’s reports on current events in Ferrara, which she repeated in March  1498 (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 52, 121). Prosperi’s frequent letters to the marchesa are widely cited as sources of information about this period (52n91). 40. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40). 41. Kenneth Stow, “The Cruel Jewish F ­ ather: From Miracle to Murder,” in Studies in Medieval Jewish Intellectual and Social History: Festschrift in Honor of



42.

43.

44.

45. 46. 47. 48.

49.

NOTES TO PAGES 42–43

Robert Chazan, ed. David Engel, Lawrence H. Schiffman, and Elliot R. Wolfson (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 245–278; esp. 246–248, 257. No ­t rials against Jewish parents suspected of having murdered their ­children who contemplated baptism are known to have taken place before the infamous case of Simon Abeles in 1694 (on which see Elisheva Carlebach, The Death of Simon Abeles: Jewish-­Christian Tension in Seventeenth-­ Century Prague [New York: Center for Jewish Studies, Queens College, CUNY, 2001]), which was instigated by a Jewish informer and led to the public execution of the boy’s f­ ather. The scenario, however, was already discussed in judicial and theological tracts in the pre-­R eformation era: Steven W. Rowan, “Ulrich Zasius and the Baptism of Jewish C ­ hildren,” Sixteenth ­Century Journal 6, no. 2 (October 1975): 3–25; esp. 15. Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili,’ ” 204–206; Kenneth R. Stow, “Delitto e castigo nello Stato della Chiesa: Gli ebrei nelle carceri romane dal 1572 al 1659,” in Italia judaica: Gli ebrei in Italia tra Rinascimento ed Età barocca. Atti del II convegno internazionale, Genova 10–15 giugno 1984 (Rome: Ufficio centrale per i beni archivistici, 1986), 173–192; esp. 186–191. Letters sent by fifteenth-­century Jews in the duchy of Ferrara, reporting the transgressions of other Jews or asking for their harsh punishment, are preserved in ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 6, c. 10; ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 23 / b (unnumbered). Elana Lourie, “Mafiosi and Malsines: Vio­lence, Fear, and Faction in the Jewish Alhamas of Valencia in the ­Fourteenth ­Century,” in her Crusade and Colonisation: Muslims, Christians, and Jews in Medieval Aragon (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1990), 69–102; esp. 69–72; Mark D. Meyerson, “The Murder of Pau de Sant Martì: Jews, Conversos, and the Feud in Fifteenth-­Century Va­ reat Effusion of Blood”? Interpreting Medieval Vio­lence, ed. lencia,” in “A G Mark D. Meyerson, Daniel Thiery, and Oren Falk (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004), 57–78; esp. 76n46. Elisheva Carlebach, Divided Souls: Converts from Judaism in Germany, 1500– 1750 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001), 13, 22–24. Po- ­chia Hsia, The Myth of Ritual Murder, 41, 160–161. Josel of Rosheim, Sefer Ha-­miknah, ed. Hava Fraenkel-­Goldschmidt (Jerusalem: Mekize Nirdamim, 1970) [in Hebrew], 1–29. Nurit Pasternak, “Marchion in Hebrew Manuscripts: State Censorship in Florence, 1472,” in The Hebrew Book in Early Modern Italy, ed. J. R. Hacker and Adam Shear (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 26–55; esp. 35–36. Pasternak, 39, 41, 45–50. In the Jewish community of Mantua, the italiani ­were always the majority, although many Jewish bankers from Ashkenaz settled in the city in the Quattrocento (Vittore Colorni, “Prestito ebraico e comunità ebraiche nell’Italia centrale e settentrionale con particolare riguardo alla comunità di Mantova,” in Colorni, Judaica Minora, 205–255;

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esp. 254). On the malediction of informers in the daily prayers of Ashkenazi Jews, see Carlebach, Divided Souls, 26–27. 50. For this notion, see David Kaufmann, “Jewish Informers in the ­M iddle Ages,” Jewish Quarterly Review 8, no. 2 (January 1896): 217–238; Renzo Toaff, La nazione ebrea a Livorno e a Pisa (1591–1700) (Florence: Olschki, 1990), 95, 96n20. 51. Carlebach, Divided Souls, 31. 52. In a ­later, well-­documented case, two Roman Jews w ­ ere likewise denounced to the authorities by their coreligionists b ­ ecause their criminal be­hav­ior was perceived as a danger for their entire Jewish community. Unlike Salomone da Sesso, ­these convicted Jewish thieves withstood the heavy conversionary pressure to which they w ­ ere subject and w ­ ere publicly executed in 1736. See Anna Foa, The Jews of Eu­rope ­after the Black Death, trans. Andrea Grover (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 151. 53. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September  7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v): “comisso alcuni errori molto enormi ne la cità nostra, et in specie in mettere sottosopra tuti li zudei che lì sono.” 54. Interestingly, in 1638 the Jews of Rome resorted to flogging a member of their community, whose reckless conduct had exposed them to the danger that Christian youths would “gravely upset” them during Eastertime. Cited in Simona Feci, “Tra il tribunale e il ghetto: Le magistrature, la comunità e gli individui di fronte ai reati degli ebrei Romani nel Seicento,” Quaderni storici, nuova serie 99, no. 3 (December 1998) : 575–599; esp. 590: “ci mettevono sotto sopra.” 55. Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili,’ ” 205–206; Carlebach, Divided Souls, 22. 56. For other cases in which Italian Jews attempted to bring vengeance upon their coreligionists e­ither by resorting to direct vio­lence—­including murder—or by pressing false charges against them, see Horo­w itz, “Families and Their Fortunes,” 595–596; Katherine Aron-­Beller, Jews on Trial: The Papal Inquisition in Modena, 1598–1638 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011), 164. 57. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v). 58. As noted in the supplication that his wife and daughter-­i n-­l aw sent Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 59. Isabella d’Este conveyed the contents of the Jews’ protest in her instructions to Ermolao Bardolini, the podesta of Mantua, on August 2, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 137, cc. 96v–97r): “Li hebrei de Mantua & del Dominio nostro hanno scripto l’inclusa alo Illustrissimo Signore nostro



NOTES TO PAGES 45–46

Consorte, dolendose de le extorsione, violentie, & iniurie, che gli sono facte per forma che dicono non potere più durarli.” C H A P T E R F I V E  ​ ​F R I E N D S A N D F O E S

















1. Salomone da Sesso mentioned his past meeting with Francesco Gonzaga in his letter of August 16, 1491, to Pietro Gentile da Camerino (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233): “como la Signoria del Marchese me promesse e dete la fede in casa de Naraso a Ferrara.” 2. The moneylender in question was Deodato di Sabato di Salomone di Manuele da Norsa, who was involved in the banks of Riva and Bondeno and l­ ater became a partner in the Jewish bank in Mantua. Deodato’s close ties with his more affluent relative Manuele the son of Noè are documented in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 388–389, 444–445 (docs. 1070, 1074, 1081, 1322). 3. Francesco Gonzaga’s instructions to his secretary, Antimaco, sent from Ferrara on May 4, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 137, c. 38v): “Salomone da Sesso Aurifice hebreo ce ha facto porgere la inclusa supplicatione di Deodato hebreo et fenerator in Mantue . . . ​et ciò facemo ad complacentia di predetto Salamone.” 4. Enrico Castelli, “I banchi feneratizi ebraici nel Mantovano (1386–1808),” Accademia Virgiliana di Mantova. Atti e memorie, n.s., 31 (1959): 7–322; esp. 35–40. On Francesco Gonzaga’s attitude ­toward Jewish moneylenders, see Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 207–215. 5. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “Salomone da Sesso hebreo et aurifice dilectissimo de la Illustrissima nostra madre me ha facto intendere che per certo commandamento universale facto in quello Excellentissimo stato ali hebrei è ancora necessario che se levi da Fontanellato Davit di Finci suo cognato.” 6. Anna Antoniazzi Villa, “Gli ebrei dei domini Sforzeschi negli ultimi decenni del Quattrocento,” in Milano nell’età di Ludovico il Moro: Atti del convegno internazionale 28 febbraio–4 marzo 1983 (Milan: Archivio Storico Civico and Biblioteca Trivulziana, 1983), 1:179–284; Anna Antoniazzi Villa, “Un duca di Milano contro gli ebrei: Note in margine ad una ricerca,” La rassegna mensile di Israel 52, nos. 2 / 3 (May–­December  1986): 397–406. 7. On the “separated lands,” see Giorgio Chittolini, “Le terre separate nel ducato di Milano in età Sforzesca,” in Milano nell’età di Ludovico il Moro, 1:115–128. 8. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 49. 9. Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 40. Only the name of one ­daughter of Zinatan Finzi, Fiore, is recorded in extant documentation. In 1488, Fiore ran a

281

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10.

11. 12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

pawnshop in Cremona (Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 420–421 [doc. 1207]), so she cannot be identified as Salomone’s wife. Antoniazzi Villa, Un pro­cesso contro gli ebrei, 19n19, 22n47, 71n68, 183; Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 39n1; Simonsohn, The Jews in the Duchy of Milan, 1:535, 666 (docs. 1267 and 1607). This was also true for other Jews implicated in the trial (Antoniazzi Villa, Un pro­cesso contro gli ebrei, 183). On ­t hese other cases, see Antoniazzi Villa, “Gli ebrei dei domini Sforzeschi,” 182–183. For Duke Ercole d’Este’s attempts to help out Davide Finzi’s ­sister Fiore in the wake of the trial against the Jews in the duchy of Milan, see Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 420–421 (doc. 1207). Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “me sun mossa a pregare la Signoria Vostra Illustrissima che per mio amor sia contenta concederli che’l possi stare et habitare in quello loco liberamente como prima, che lo recognoscerò per singulare piacere.” James, “An Insatiable Appetite for News,” 378; Shemek, “Isabella d’Este and the Properties of Persuasion,” 133. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “Et perché io amo dicto Salomone per essere nel mestere suo molto virtuoso et gentile volunteri lo vederia satisfacto del desidero che l’ha ch’el cognato resti in quella terra, patria sua, per substentare la famiglia et vivere de industria.” Fredrika H. Jacobs, Defining the Re­nais­sance Virtuosa: ­Women Artists and the Language of Art History and Criticism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 2–3. On Re­nais­sance goldsmiths as virtuosi, see J. F. Hayward, Virtuoso Goldsmiths and the Triumph of Mannerism, 1540–1620 (London: Sotheby Parke Bernet, 1976). Leon Battista Alberti, I libri della famiglia, ed. Cecil Grayson (Bari: Laterza, 1960), 133: “doni di tanta virtù quanta Egli diede all’anima dell’uomo sopra tutti gli altri terreni animanti grandissima e prestantissima.” En­ glish translation cited from Alistair C. Crombie, “Experimental Science and the Rational Artist in Early Modern Eu­rope,” Daedalus 115, no. 3 (Summer 1986): 49–74; esp. 49. Evelyn Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance: Consumer Cultures in Italy, 1400– 1600 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2005), 252–253; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 5. Rose Marie San Juan, “The Court Lady’s Dilemma: Isabella d’Este and Art Collecting in the Re­nais­sance,” Oxford Art Journal 14, no. 1 (1991): 67–78; Francis Ames-­L ewis, Isabella and Leonardo: The Artistic Relationship between Isabella d’Este and Leonardo da Vinci, 1500–1506 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2012), 19–39; Leandro Ventura, “Isabella d’Este: Commit-



NOTES TO PAGES 48–49

tenza e collezionismo,” in Isabella d’Este: La primadonna del Rinascimento, ed. Bini, 85–107. 20. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 633, c. 223r: “MCCCCLXXXXI. Illustrissima madama Leonora duchesa di Ferrara de dare . . . ​a dì 21 di mazo . . . ​L ire Sedexe de Marchexana . . . ​a Salamone da Sexo ebreo per conto de lavoreri fatti a suo servizio porto controscritto la Chasandra de Chrestovalla dai Chapeletti.” The rec­ord of this payment is cited in Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 306. Charles Yriarte, Autour des Borgia (Paris: J. Rothschild, 1891), 208, transcribed the month as “Marzo” (March), but I concur with Angelucci that the more accurate reading is “Mazo” (May); on March 21, 1491, Salomone was still in Mantua. 21. Perhaps this was the Cassandra who eventually became a favorite of Anna Sforza, who in January 1491 came to Ferrara as the bride of Eleonora’s son Alfonso. On Anna’s close relations with her camarera Cassandra, see Roberta Iotti, “Ricchezze ed eleganze di corte negli inventari di celebri principesse Italiane,” in Isabella d’Este: La primadonna del Rinascimento, ed. Bini, 45–52; esp. 48. 22. Francesco Gonzaga’s instructions of August 20, 1491, to the podesta of Mantua, Ermolao Bardolini (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 27r); Bardolini’s letter of August 30, 1491, to Francesco Gonzaga (ASMn, AG, busta 2440); Marquis Francesco’s instructions of September 8, 1491, to Bardolini (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 53v). 23. That Pietro Gentile accompanied Francesco Gonzaga in his travels is noted in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Antimaco of September 14, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 41v). See also Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to his consort of April 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2107, fasc. II, c. 27). 24. Welch, Art and Society in Italy 1350–1500, 121–123. 25. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, b. 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r); Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v); Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). 26. Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233): “Vostra Signoria fece fare lo Buletino ad Angelo hebreo mio parente de Salvo Conducto de venire a Mantua como la Signoria del Marchese me promesse e dete la fede in casa de Naraso a Ferrara. Et mo me pare non li è sta observato che le sta destenuto, che non credo el sapiati ne s’el racordase sua Singoria per il che pregove vogliati essere cum sua Signoria, e farlo relaxare e siane observata la fede, et el favore vostro como spero in quello. Ad ciò non sia data allegreza ali inimici nostri. Deli quali farò intendere a sua Signoria se la me scrive venga da lui, de loro cosse li piacerà e li serà de grande utile, como li scrivo. A questa volta facti non mo abandonati ch’el sia relaxato. Ve restarò

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sempre obligatissimo. Ferrarie, XVI Aug. MCCCCLXXXXI. D. V. Servitor Salamon Aurifex Illustrissime Domine Ducisse Ferrarie.” 27. Paolo L. Rossi, “The Writer and the Man. Real Crimes and Mitigating Circumstances: Il caso Cellini,” in Crime, Society and the Law in Re­nais­sance Italy, ed. Trevor Dean and K. J. P. Lowe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 157–183; esp. 166, 173; Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 175–176. 28. See David Nirenberg, Communities of Vio­lence: Persecution of Minorities in the ­Middle Ages (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1996), 132n17. On early modern safe-­conducts in general, see Miriam Eliav-­Feldon, Re­nais­ sance Impostors and Proofs of Identity (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 199–204. 29. Francesco Gonzaga’s instructions to Ermolao Bardolini of August 20, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 27r). 30. On Eleonora of Aragon’s correspondence with Francesco Gonzaga, see Monica Ferrari, “Un’educazione sentimentale per lettera: Il caso di Isabella d’Este (1490–1493),” Reti medievali 10 (2009):  351–371; esp. 360–363. 31. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of August  20, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 177): “Salamone hebreo nostro Aurifice ni mostra venir lìe per certo suo parente hebreo, quale dice esser frastenuto. Et perché haveremo a caro che’l dicto suo parente sia relassato, e che Lui se ne ritrovi presto ali servitii nostri pregamo la Signoria Vostra che lo voglia haver racomandato per amore nostro, offerendoni de continuo ali beneplaciti de quella.” 32. On Bardolini, who filled the office of podesta in Mantua in 1490–1491, see Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 240, 243, 254–256. 33. Francesco Gonzaga’s instructions to Bardolini of August 27, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 36r): “ultra ciò fati mettere le mani adosso ad uno Simone figliolo de Angelo hebreo che habita lì in Mantua et lo examinarete in questo caso, et cum la tortura se’l bisogna che intendimo è complice de li delicti comissi per epso Angelo sostenuto.” 34. Ermolao Bardolini’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of August  30, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440), first noted in Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 243–244. 35. See Feci, “Tra il tribunale e il ghetto,” 590–591. 36. Ermolao Bardolini’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of August  30, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440): “una certa femina Cristiana cum la quale esso Agnol Judeo usava carnalmente.” 37. Stow, Catholic Thought, 118–120. 38. Léon Poliakov, Jewish Bankers and the Holy See: From the Thirteenth to the Seventeenth ­Century (New York: Routledge, 2012), 129; Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 827–832; Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili,’ ” 195, 199, 208–210nn3–4, 9; Ruggiero, The Bound­aries of Eros, 71, 74, 86–89; Trevor



NOTES TO PAGES 51–52

Dean, Crime and Justice in Late Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 146–149. 39. For studies that stress the prevalence of Jewish-­Christian carnal relations, see Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 18–22; Thomas Cohen, “The Death of Abramo of Montecosaro,” Jewish History 19 (2005):  245–285; esp. 268–269, 278– 279n61. In contrast, Robert Bonfil argues for the scarcity of interracial sexual contact in “Jews, Christians, and Sex in Re­nais­sance Italy: A Historiographical Prob­lem,” Jewish History 26 (2012): 101–111. See also, on the Crown of Aragon, Nirenberg, Communities of Vio­lence, 127–165. 40. Zinatan Finzi’s letter to Duke Borso d’Este of December 22, 1469 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 6, c. 2). See also Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 43n1. 41. Ercole d’Este’s decree of July 2, 1490 (“Assoluzione fatta a Manuele, Elia e Samuele Norsa e loro famiglie da ogni imputazione si civile che criminale”), ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19B. 42. Castelli, “I banchi feneratizi ebraici nel Mantovano,” 35; Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 212n51. For Francesco Gonzaga’s ­later “absolution” of Deodato’s sons for vari­ous sexual offenses in 1506, see Simonsohn, 213n53. 43. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 540–542. 44. Even when charges of miscegenation appeared to be founded, as in the case of Lazzaro the son of Isaco da Cesena—­who in 1500 confessed to having had liaisons with the Christian ­woman Rosa as well as with her ­d aughter—­t he culprits often still got away with relatively light pecuniary punishments. Lazzaro even obtained a letter from Alfonso d’Este (1476–1534), Duke Ercole’s son, stating that he should not be subject to further molestation despite having been convicted of fornication with two Christians (Alfonso d’Este’s letter of June 25, 1500, in ­favor of Lazzaro di Isaco da Cesena, in ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19B). 45. No Jew is known to have been executed in Gonzaga lands solely for miscegenation during the fifteenth c­ entury (Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 115n49). However, several men convicted of theft or of trading in stolen goods ­were sentenced to hanging ­there in the second half of the Quattrocento (Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 13, 73–80, 240–241). 46. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v): “Salomone da Sesso hebreo, quale in certa collana che me fece li messi passati me robbati diceotto o vinti ducati.” 47. Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen, 60; Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 168. 48. Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 13; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 409.

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49. Simonsohn, The Jews in the Duchy of Milan, 1:292, 590–591 (docs. 646, 1419). For ­later cases of Jewish goldsmiths, or ­t hose who had business contacts with goldsmiths and w ­ ere suspected of meddling in fraud, see Renata Segre, “Il mondo ebraico nel carteggio di Carlo Borromeo,” Michael: On the History of the Jews in the Diaspora 1 (1972): 163–260; esp. 176–179. 50. Rublack, Dressing Up, 20, 67; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 28–29, 34–37, 51. 51. McCall, “Brilliant Bodies,” 462–463. See also Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 72; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 173–179. 52. Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 175. 53. See Lauro Martines, Power and Imagination: City-­States in Re­nais­sance Italy (New York: Knopf, 1979), 224. 54. On the Gonzagas’ financial difficulties in the late fifteenth c­ entury, see Katz, “Painting and the Politics of Persecution,” 475; Shemek, “Isabella d’Este and the Properties of Persuasion,” 131. 55. Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 181–183. 56. See Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 168–169. 57. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v): “Intendo che è stato sostenuto lì a Ferrara Salomone da Sesso hebreo, quale in certa collana che me fece li messi passati me robbati diceotto o vinti ducati ultra che ha etiam comisso alcuni errori molto enormi ne la cità nostra, et in specie in mettere sottosopra tuti li zudei che lì sono, per tanto prego la Excellentia Vostra che non permetta, che’l sta relaxato finché io non habia li miei dinari, et che’l stia punito deli manchamenti suoi, che veramente quella non me poteria far de presente cosa più grata di questa et li ne restaramo obligatissimo per il debito de la iustitia.” 58. Francesco Gonzaga’s instructions to Ermolao Bardolini of September 8, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 53v): “Vogliamo examinarete Angelo hebreo destenuto lì ala presentia de Bonaventura hebreo, sopra certi delicti comissi per Salomone da Sesso, come ve informarà dicto Bonaventura, et se’l bisognarà li darete del tormento per cavare la verità.” 59. Similarly, it has been suggested that Cellini was quick to admit to the sodomy charges against him to avoid being tortured (Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 179). 60. On Francesco’s preference for communicating sensitive information through reliable intermediaries, see Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 32–33. 61. Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 246–247. 62. Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 320–322; Traniello, “Famiglie e genealogie,” 37. 63. Vittore Colorni, “Le magistrature maggiori della comunità ebraica di Mantova (sec. XV–­ X IX),” in Colorni, Judaica Minora, 257–327; esp. 262–267.



NOTES TO PAGES 59–60

C H A P T E R S I X  ​ ​A J E W I S H S O D O M I T E ?













1. For the main characteristics of Eleonora’s correspondence with Isabella, see Carolyn James, “What’s Love Got to Do with It? Dynastic Politics and Motherhood in the Letters of Eleonora of Aragon and Her ­Daughters,” ­Women’s History Review 24, no. 4 (2015): 528–547; Ferrari, “Un’educazione sentimentale per lettera,” 351–371. 2. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194): “Preterea il se ritrova qui in pregione per cagione de sodomia, e altre triste cose Salamon hebreo nostro orevese, e pare che lie se li ritrovi etiam in pregione un suo famiglio. Cognoscendo lo errore suo dicto Salamone il s’è pentito, e deliberato farse christiano et la excellentia de lo illustrissimo signore Duca nostro consorte ha pensato perdonargli per guadagnare l’anima sua. Unde vi preghiamo grandemente che vogliati fare opera cum il predetto Signore marchese, che perdoni al dicto famiglio poiché anchor lui se è convertito e se vuole far christiano che serà doppio acquisto.” 3. Michael Rocke, Forbidden Friendships: Homo­sexuality and Male Culture in Re­ nais­sance Italy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 3, 11–13; Ruggiero, The Bound­aries of Eros, 144; Nicholas Davidson, “Theology, Nature, and the Law: Sexual Sin and Sexual Crime in Italy from the ­Fourteenth to the Seventeenth ­Century,” in Crime, Society and the Law, ed. Dean and Lowe, 74–98; esp. 75–77. For a comparative analy­sis of patterns in the prosecution of sodomy in vari­ous northern Italian cities in the fifteenth ­century, see Dean, Crime and Justice, 141–146. 4. Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 77–78, 278n186; Trevor Dean, “Sodomy in Re­ nais­sance Bologna,” Re­nais­sance Studies 31, no.  3 (February  2017):  426– 443; esp. 436–437; Dean, Crime and Justice, 143; Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 827–828; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 18–20. As far as the southern parts of the peninsula are concerned, Shlomo Simonsohn has argued that in the fifteenth c­ entury “sodomy and pederasty w ­ ere a fairly common crime, and the Jews of Sicily committed it relatively often, to judge by the number of cases that came to light, which prob­ably accounted for only some” (Simonsohn, Between Scylla and Charybdis, 502; see also Simonsohn, 265, 328–329, 503, 566). 5. Horo­w itz, “Families and Their Fortunes,” 598–599. 6. See Bonfil, “Jews, Christians, and Sex,” esp. 104. 7. Luzzati, “ ‘Satis est quod tecum dormivit,’ ” 261–263, 277nn29–30. 8. Luzzati, “Matrimoni e apostasia di Clemenza di Vitale di Pisa,” 69–72, 88–89. Isacco was accused of having engaged in sodomy with both Christian and Jewish men. 9. Marquis Nicolò III d’Este’s decree of April 8, 1429 (ASMo, ASE, Cancelleria marchionale poi ducale Estense, Leggi e decreti, busta 4 [Nicolai III

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epistolae et decreta 1419 ad 1441], c. 349, summarized in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 138 (doc. 375). 10. Rossi, “I medaglisti del Rinascimento alla corte di Mantova,” 26, and Salomone da Sesso’s letter of August 16, 1491, to Pietro Gentile da Camerino (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233). 11. On this group’s reputation for favoring homosexual activity, see Anthony F. D’Elia, A Sudden Terror: The Plot to Murder the Pope in Re­nais­sance Rome (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 91–103. 12. Wesche, “Lysippus Unveiled,” 7–10; Rossi, “I medaglisti del Rinascimento alla corte di Mantova.” On the literary collection in Cinuzzi’s memory and its genre, see also Paul Oskar Kristeller, “The Alleged Ritual Murder of Simon of Trent (1475) and Its Literary Repercussions: A Bibliographical Study,” Proceedings of the American Acad­emy for Jewish Research 59 (1993): 103– 135; esp. 108–111. 13. Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde, 428; Campbell, “Review of Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde,” 106. 14. Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 138–139. For sodomy accusations involving goldsmiths, see Rocke, 92–93, 142. Rocke cautions that “compared with ­t hose in other trades, the number and proportion of artists and related professionals implicated in sodomy was inconsequential” (139). Yet, as his discussion makes clear, the alleged homoerotic tendencies of famous artists w ­ ere publicized more quickly and broadly than ­those of other men implicated in sodomy. 15. Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 175–179. 16. Margaret A. Gallucci, Benvenuto Cellini: Sexuality, Masculinity, and Artistic Identity in Re­nais­sance Italy (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 26– 35. See also Douglas N. Dow, “Benvenuto Cellini’s Bid for Membership in the Florentine Confraternity of San Giovanni Battista,” Confraternitas 20, no. 1 (2009): 2–10; esp. 4. 17. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of March 22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136), c. 82v. 18. Howard  E. Adelman, “Servants and Sexuality: Seduction, Surrogacy, and Rape: Some Observations concerning Class, Gender, and Race in Early Modern Italian Jewish Families,” in Gender and Judaism: The Transformation of Tradition, ed. T. M. Rudavsky (New York: NYU Press, 1995), 81–97. 19. Not only Cellini, but also other con­temporary artists—­notably the paint­ers Sandro Boticelli (1445–1510) and Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519), not to mention Giovanni Bazzi (1477–1549), who was awarded the derogatory nickname Il Sodoma—­were reputed to engage in unlawful sexual pursuits. See James D. Saslow, “ ‘A Veil of Ice between My Heart and the Fire’: Michelangelo’s Sexual Identity and Early Modern Construction of Homo­sexuality,” Genders 2 (1988): 135–148; esp. 143.



NOTES TO PAGES 62–64

20. Luzzati, “Lo scudo della giustizia dei ‘gentili,’ ” 196–197. For additional cases of this kind, see Adelman, “Servants and Sexuality,” 81–97. 21. Balletti, Gli ebrei e gli estensi, 43n1; Horo­w itz, “Families and Their Fortunes,” 580–581, 591. 22. See Yaron Ben-­Naeh, “Moshko the Jew and His Gay Friends: Same-­Sex Sexual Relations in Ottoman Jewish Society,” Journal of Early Modern History 9, no. 2 (2005): 79–105. 23. Luzzati, “Matrimoni e apostasia di Clemenza di Vitale di Pisa,” esp. 70–72. 24. Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233). 25. Letters of Bernardino de’ Prosperi and Francesco da Bagnacavallo, sent on October 10, 1491, to Isabella d’Este (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, cc. 40, 93). 26. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v). For cases of Jewish leaders resorting to civic tribunals for curbing the threat posed by the criminal be­hav­ior of individual Jews, see Anna Esposito, “Conflitti interni alla comunità di Roma tra Quattro e Cinquecento,” in Judei de Urbe. Roma e i suoi ebrei: Una storia secolare. Atti del Convegno, Archivio di Stato di Roma, 7–9 novembre 2005, ed. Marina Caffiero and Anna Esposito (Rome: Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, 2011), 69–79; esp. 72–73. 27. As in Salomone’s case, sodomy was not the only offense of which Israele de’ Piperno’s fellow Jews accused him (Feci, “Tra il tribunale e il ghetto,” 586). 28. Luzzati, “Matrimoni e apostasia di Clemenza di Vitale di Pisa,” 69–71. 29. Nicholas Terpstra, “Theory into Practice: Executions, Comforting, and Comforters in Re­nais­sance Italy,” in The Art of Executing Well: Rituals of Execution in Re­nais­sance Italy, ed. Nicholas Terpstra (Kirksville, MI: Truman State University Press, 2008), 118–158; esp. 122–124, 130. 30. Dean, “Sodomy in Re­n ais­sance Bologna,” 442; Dean, Crime and Justice, 142–146. 31. Maria Serena Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera”: Esecuzioni capitali e potere nella Ferrara estense (Rome: Viella, 2003), 101–103, 108. 32. On Zampante’s ruthlessness, see Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 46, 152–157. 33. Matteo Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca? Rivolta e consenso nella Ferrara estense (Rome: Viella, 2011), 93–123; Enrica Guerra, Una eterna condanna: La figura del carnefice nella società tardomedievale (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2003), 46–48; Dean, Crime and Justice, 56. 34. Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, 767: “Havendo uno . . . ​c uriale zentilhomo de Ferrara, sotomitato uno ragazo del duca Hercule, che fu figliolo de messere Baldissera da Treviso cavaliero, et contra sua volontate, ut dicitur, el duca statim gli mandò a dimandare ch’el pagasse trecento ducati d’oro.”

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35. In her letter to Ercole d’Este of June 27, 1493 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132), Eleonora of Aragon criticized Zampante’s death sentence and informed the duke that she had instructed the Captain of Justice to defer the convicted sodomites’ punishment. 36. Giuseppe Pardi, ed., Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, in Rerum italicarum scriptores, ed. L. A. Muratori, vol. 24, pt. 7:1 (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1928), 199–200. ­T hese three men ­were sentenced to death a­ fter Zampante’s murder, following Duke Ercole’s Savonarola-­ inspired proclamations against sodomy and other sinful activities in Easter 1496 (Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera,” 122–123; Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca?, 106). 37. According to Nicholas Davidson (“Theology, Nature, and the Law,” 95–96), “in Ferrara, the numbers executed w ­ ere comparable to t­ hose in Florence: between 1441 and 1577, only nine of the 742 men put to death ­were definitely sentenced for sodomy.” This means that only one sodomy execution took place in the first three-­quarters of the sixteenth ­century, compared with the eight that had been carried out in the preceding ­century—on which see Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera,” 101– 103, 108–109, 122–123; Werner L. Gundersheimer, “Crime and Punishment in Ferrara, 1440–1500,” in Vio­lence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cities, 1200–1500, ed. Lauro Martines (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), 104–128; esp. 114—­t hree of them during the last years of Duke Ercole’s reign. 38. Like Liucio, several Jewish boys who had been accused of sodomy in Palermo ­were eventually released, unpunished, in 1471 (Simonsohn, Between Scylla and Charybdis, 503). 39. On the significance of age and marital status in the prosecution of sodomy, see Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 14–15, 112–132; Dean, Crime and Justice, 142. The age of thirty-­t wo was generally considered “a crucial turning point in males’ sexual lives,” ­a fter which it would be especially hard for them to give up same-­sex desire (Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 39– 40, 117–118). Born between 1452 and 1457 (Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 150), in 1491 Salomone’s age must have been between thirty-­ four and thirty-­n ine. 40. Adriano Prosperi, Delitto e perdono: La pena di morte nell’orizzonte mentale dell’Europa cristiana, XIV–­X VIII secolo (Turin: Einaudi, 2016), 164–165. 41. Antonio Bertolotti, Prigioni e prigionieri in Mantova dal secolo XIII al secolo XIX (Rome: Tipografia delle Mantellate, 1888), 65. 42. On the almost complete loss of Ferrara’s criminal rec­ords from this period, see Ghirardo, “The Topography of Prostitution,” 408, 425. For a microhistorical study that relies on investigation rec­ords for drawing conclusions regarding same-­sex preferences, see Brown, Immodest Acts. See also the critique in Rudolph M. Bell, “The ‘Lesbian’ Nun of  Judith Brown:



NOTES TO PAGES 65–67

A Dif ­fer­ent Conclusion,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 40, no.  3 (Autumn 1987): 485–503; Magnússon and Szijártó, What Is Microhistory?, 55. 43. Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca?, 105–108; Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 153–155; Dean, Crime and Justice, 56. 44. Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, 767. 45. Edward Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Eu­rope (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 109; Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 73–75. 46. For this profile, see Terpstra, “Theory into Practice,” 118–159; esp. 122, 131. This also held true for other parts of Eu­rope; see Pieter Spierenburg, The Spectacle of Suffering: Execution and the Evolution of Repression from a Pre­ industrial Metropolis to the Eu­ro­pean Experience (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 169–175. 47. On comforters’ confraternities in Quattrocento Italy, and the establishment of a Jewish confraternity in Ferrara entrusted with this task in the Cinquecento, see Prosperi, Delitto e perdono, 124–153. For the history of the Jewish confraternity, see Elliott Horo­w itz, “Jewish Confraternity Piety in Sixteenth-­Century Ferrara: Continuity and Change,” in The Politics of Ritual Kinship: Confraternities and Social Order in Early Modern Italy, ed. Nicholas Terpstra (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 150–171. 48. Moncada’s sexual penchants “­were said to have been at the root of his ‘trou­bles’  ” (Simonsohn, Between Scylla and Charybdis, 502–503). 49. For Farissol’s critique of Moncada’s religious views, see Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 44–45. 50. Shlomo Simonsohn, “Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada, un converso alla convergenza di tre culture: Ebraica, cristiana e islamica,” in Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada alias Flavio Mitridate: Un ebreo converso siciliano, ed. Mauro Perani (Palermo: Officina di studi medievali, 2008), 23–32; esp. 23–24. Simonsohn notes that ­ a fter his conversion, Moncada faced criminal charges in Rome in 1482 and was imprisoned again in Viterbo in 1489. 51. As noted in Chaim Wirszubski, Pico della Mirandola’s Encounter with Jewish Mysticism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), 72–73, 114–115. 52. This holds true for many of the artists accused of engaging in homoerotic activities in premodern Eu­rope; see Katlijne Van der Stighelen and Jonas Roelens, “Made in Heaven, Burned in Hell: The Trial of the Sodomite Sculptor Hiëronymus Duquesnoy (1602–1654),” in Facts and Feelings: Retracing Emotions of Artists, 1600–1800, ed. Hennelore Magnus and Katlijne Van der Stighelen (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), 99–135; esp. 114–116. 53. For Cellini, see Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 176–178. 54. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 45–46, remark only that Salomone was compelled to convert to evade a harsh punishment, without stating explic­itly that he had been condemned for sodomy.

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55. On Zampante’s three killers, see Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca?, 113–114. 56. Stow, Taxation, Community, and State, 66–70; Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­Reformation,” 132. On the conversion of Jews in fifteenth-­ century Italy, see Tamar Herzig, “Rethinking Jewish Conversion to Chris­t ian ­ity in Re­n ais­sance Italy,” in Re­nais­sance Religions, ed. Nicholas Terpstra and Peter Howard (Turnhout: Brepols, forthcoming). 57. Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 110–111, 151, 160–169, 172–173, 209, 266. 58. On the choice of a baptismal name that retained something of a neophyte’s original identity, see Francesco Renda, La fine del giudaismo siciliano: Ebrei, marrani e Inquisizione spagnola prima, durante e dopo la cacciata del 1492 (Palermo: Sellerio, 1993), 149–150. The name Angelo was one of the most common names given to Jewish boys and was often paired with the Hebrew name Mordecai. See Kenneth Stow, “Italy, Jews of,” in Encyclopedia of Jewish Folklore and Traditions, ed. Haya Bar-­Itzhak (London: Routledge, 2013), 270–272; esp. 272. 59. Esposito, Un’altra Roma, 154–157; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 196–197. For the sixteenth ­century, see Kenneth R. Stow, “A Tale of Uncertainties: Converts in the Roman Ghetto,” in Shlomo Simonsohn Jubilee Volume: Studies on the History of the Jews in the ­Middle Ages and Re­nais­sance Period, ed. Daniel Carpi (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1993), 257–281; esp. 260–266. 60. Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 172–176, 269, 276; Traniello, “Ebrei in Polesine nel XV secolo,” 130–131. 61. Arcangelo Maria was survived by his wife and son, who continued to live as Christians in Lendinara ­a fter his demise in 1466. Neither the wife nor the son, Ludovico, was mentioned in Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61) but then again, her Jewish kinsmen—­w ith the exception of Salomone and his son Graziadio—­were excluded from this document as well. 62. Arcangelo Maria died upon returning from a business trip to Ferrara: Traniello, Gli ebrei e le piccole città, 174–175; see also 172–173, 176, 269, 276; Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 157, 169, 175, 180, 233–234, 239, 243, 245 (docs. 429, 462, 478–479, 495, 551, 620, 629–630, 643, 649). 63. Shalom M. Sadik, “Between Ashkenaz and Sefarad: The Ideological Apostate,” Hebrew Union College Annual 82–83 (2011–2012): *61–­*78; esp. *76 [in Hebrew]. 64. Prosperi, “La Chiesa e gli ebrei,” 178. 65. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). 66. Cited in Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 183; see also 166–168. When Isabella d’Este’s court musician Bartolomeo Tromboncino was convicted for murdering his wife, the marchesa advocated his p ­ ardon “since he is such a good and talented man” (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 132).



NOTES TO PAGES 70–71

C H A P T E R S E V E N  ​ ​ C O N V E R S I O N S

1. Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 272–273; Cristina Galasso, Alle origini di una comunità: Ebree ed ebrei a Livorno nel Seicento (Florence: Olschki, 2001), 114– 115. See also Adriano Prosperi, “Battesimo e identità cristiana nella prima età moderna,” in Salvezza delle anime, disciplina dei corpi: Un seminario sulla storia del battesimo, ed. Adriano Prosperi (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2004), 1–65; esp. 53–55. 2. This distinction underlay ecclesiastical attitudes ­toward the capital punishment of Christian criminals who had repented their sins in general. See Adriano Prosperi, “Morire volentieri: Condannati a morte e sacramenti,” in Misericordie: Conversioni sotto il patibolo tra Medioevo ed età moderna, ed. Adriano Prosperi (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2007), 3–54. 3. In the same vein, when faced with the earthly implications of the baptism of enslaved non-­Christian persons in Africa and Amer­i­ca, Catholic theologians conceded that it did not legally entail their manumission, which depended on the goodwill of slaveholders. See Adriano Prosperi, “L’abiura dell’eretico e la conversione del criminale: Prime linee di ricerca,” in Schiavitù e conversioni nel Mediterraneo, ed. Giovanna Fiume, special issue of Quaderni storici 42, no. 126(3) (December 2007): 719–729. 4. Peter A. Mazur, “Combating ‘Mohammedan Indecency’: The Baptism of Muslim Slaves in Spanish Naples, 1563–1667,” Journal of Early Modern History 13, no. 1 (2009): 25–48; esp. 41–42. 5. Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy, 22–23. On the pardoning of condemned Jewish offenders in the post-­Tridentine era, see also Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 132; Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 271–272; Aron-­Beller, Jews on Trial, 165. 6. Marquardus De Susannis, Tractatus de Iudaeis et aliis infidelibus circa concernentia originem contractuum, bella, foedera, ultimas voluntates, iudicia, & delicta Iudaeorum & aliorum infidelium, & eorum conversiones ad fidem (Venice: Cominus de Tridino, 1558), 139–140, and see the discussion in Stow, Catholic Thought, 171–183. 7. As in Florence in 1463 and in Lucca in 1472: Delcorno, “Corruzione e conversione,” 281–282; Luzzati, “ ‘Satis est quod tecum dormivit,’ ” 262–263. 8. Stow, Catholic Thought, xix–­x xiv; Bonfil, “An Infant’s Missionary Sermon,” 155. 9. On ­these efforts, see Gabriella Zarri, “Pietà e profezia alle corti padane: Le pie consigliere dei principi,” in Il Rinascimento nelle corti padane: Società e cultura, ed. Paolo Rossi (Bari: De Donato, 1977), 201–237. 10. In 1392, a condemned Jewish thief was hanged in Venice, notwithstanding his baptism: Mueller, “The Jewish Moneylenders of Late Trecento Venice,” 211.

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11. Ruggiero, The Bound­aries of Eros, 88. 12. My discussion of this case is based on the document published in Simonsohn, The Jews in the Duchy of Milan, 1:391–392 (doc. 904, in which the Jew’s name is not mentioned). On the pardoning of convicted criminals who consented to baptism in the Duchy of Milan prior to the official expulsion of the Jews from Sforza lands, see also Simonsohn, 1:553–554 (docs. 1317–1318). 13. David Kling, “Conversion to Chris­tian­ity,” in The Oxford Handbook of Religious Conversion, ed. Lewis R. Rambo and Charles E. Farhadian (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 598–631; esp. 614–616; Katznelson and Rubin, “Introduction,” 4. 14. See Adriano Prosperi, “Consolation or Condemnation: The Debates on Withholding Sacraments from Prisoners,” in The Art of Executing Well, ed. Terpstra, 98–117, and the longue durée analy­sis of public executions and Church-­state relations in the Christian West in Prosperi, Delitto e perdono, 40–90. 15. Rinaldi, “Topografia documentaria,” 65. On the execution of repentant Christian criminals in Bologna, see Terpstra, “Theory into Practice,” 118–158. 16. Johannes Burchardus, Pope Alexander VI and His Court: Extracts from the Latin Diary of Johannes Burchardus, ed. F. L. Glaser (New York: Nicholas Brown, 1921), 21, noted in Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 843n108. 17. Adriano Prosperi, “Statistiche criminali italiane d’antico regime,” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa. Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, ser. 5, 3, no. 2 (2011): 497–525; esp. 511–521. 18. See Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Vintage Books, 1975), 32–69. 19. Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 21–22. 20. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 87: “la domenega, in la festa de la Annunciatione de la Nostra Donna. Uno Zodio fu baptizato dal vicario del vescho enanti al Crucifixo, il quale havea robbato molto robbe e hera condennato a la forcha. E lui disse che, s’el ge hera donata la vita, che se baptizaria. E cusì fece, e fuge messo nome Jacomo e fu vestido de biancho.” 21. Bernardino de’ Prosperi, who described the girl’s baptism ceremony in his letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40), noted that she was about seventeen years old at that time. 22. The episode is summarized by Franceschini (Presenza ebraica, 438–439 [docs. 1302, 1304]), who omits some of its key details. 23. This is noted in the letter that Elia and Stella Caio sent Duke Ercole d’Este on August 21, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 32): “certe robe cioè quella poca faculta havevano, che lei portò via.” 24. Aron-­Beller, Jews on Trial, 174.



NOTES TO PAGES 74–76

25. On this practice, see Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita,” 147; Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 135. 26. On Daniele and Antonia and their families, see Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 85, 191n9; Antonio Frizzi, Memorie storiche della nobile famiglia Bevilacqua (Parma: Reale Stamperia, 1779), 60–61; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 129; Folin, Rinascimento estense, 144, 199. 27. For Daniele’s close ties with Zampante, see Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca?, 107. 28. Letter sent by Elia and Stella Caio to Duke Ercole d’Este on August 21, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 32). 29. Cestarelli, an affluent timber merchant, previously filled the post of Fattore Generale, the se­nior position in the Este court’s financial administration. The duke nominated him as head of Ferrara’s city council just a few days e­ arlier, on July 13, following the death of Galeazzo Trotti, the previous Giudice de’ XII Savi (Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 160, 222; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 27–28, 33; Folin, “Finte stigmate,” 221). 30. Daniele’s faithful companion Zampante had tried to prevent Cestarelli’s ascension to this post, but to no avail (Provasi, Il popolo ama il duca?, 106–107). 31. On Gaspare delle Fructe (or De le Frutte), see Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, xxxi, 132–133, 361. 32. Letter sent by Elia and Stella Caio to Duchess Eleonora of Aragon on July 29, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 33): “Tutavia el patre e la matre de la puta per zelo de amore desiderosi de vederla andando verso quella, se li afferrò la Dona de dicto M.r Daniele, dicendo che non voleva, e che li era sta dicto ch’el patre havea uno cultelo soto e che la scanaria. Et el povereto se spolgiò [sic] e monstròli che non havea cultelo. E anche comenzò poi a dire che non volevano che la matre se li accostesse che li manzaria el naso, et furno comenzati da dicte deshoneste persone ad urtare, e calefare, pur dicta matre comenzò a parlare ala figliola, et subito ambo due veneno in lachrime, et dixe la figliola che havea facto questo perché lei non havea de che vivere in casa loro sono pane et aqua et in grandissimo desasio. Et subito dicto Gasparo cum furia intrò in la camera et aserò la fenestra.” 33. See Donald Weinstein, The Captain’s Concubine: Love, Honor, and Vio­lence in Re­nais­sance Tuscany (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 58–61; Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Eu­rope, 109. 34. David Joshua Malkiel, “Jews and Apostates in Medieval Eu­rope: Bound­ aries Real and ­Imagined,” Past and Pre­sent 194, no.  1 (February  2007), 3–34; esp. 31. 35. On Antonio Maria Guarnieri (or Guarniero) and his rise to a high position in Ercole d’Este’s financial administration, see Giulio Bertoni, Nuovi studi

295

296

NOTES TO PAGES 76–78

su Matteo Maria Boiardo (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1904), 29–30; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 286, 440; Adolfo Venturi, “L’arte ferrarese nel periodo d’Ercole I d’Este,” Atti e Memorie della R. Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Provincie di Romagna, ser. 3, 6 (1887–1888): 91–119; esp. 113–114. For his eventual downfall in 1502, see Guido Guerzoni, Le corti estensi e la devoluzione di Ferrara del 1598 (Ferrara: Archivio Storico di Ferrara, 1999), 147. 36. Marco Folin, “Un ampliamento urbano della prima età moderna: L’Addizione Erculea di Ferrara,” in Sistole / Diastole: Episodi di trasformazione urbana nell’Italia delle città (Venice: Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere e Arti, 2006), 51–174; esp. 123–124, 127–128; Folin, Rinascimento estense, 144. 37. On Judeo-­Ferrarese, see Vittore Colorni, “La parlata degli ebrei mantovani,” in Colorni, Judaica Minora, 579–636; esp. 626–627. Like other Judeo-­Italian dialects, this was essentially the local Ferrarese dialect, preserved in its archaic form and laced with Hebrew words and with terms originating in southern Italy (Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 618). 38. Letter sent by Elia and Stella Caio to Duchess Eleonora of Aragon on July 29, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 33): “Etiam cum presentia di qualche religioso s’el pare a Vostra Excellenza che sia in quello loco purché nui li potremo parlare in lingua nostra.” 39. Letter sent by Stella and Elia Caio to Duke Ercole d’Este on August 21, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 32): “Ma quando la puta nostra fusse messa in uno Monastiero on altro loco mediocre che liberamente li potessemo parlare da nui et lei, et che intendessemo la volunta sua essere de farse Christiana non diressemo altro.” 40. Letter sent by Stella and Elia Caio to Duke Ercole d’Este on August 21, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 19 / A, c. 32). 41. Anna Antonia’s baptism is described in Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). 42. Ecclesiastical authorities generally regarded forced conversion as void, and sometimes agreed to restore Jews who had been forcibly baptized (for instance, during the 1096 massacres in the Rhineland, or following the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 and from Portugal in 1497) to their original condition. See Katznelson and Rubin, “Introduction,” 8–9; Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy, 19–20. C H A P T E R E I G H T  ​ ​P R I N C E L Y J U S T I C E A N D C H R I S T I A N P I E T Y



1. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194): “che serà doppio acquisto.” 2. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194): “Cognoscendo lo errore suo dicto Salamone il s’è



NOTES TO PAGES 78–79

pentito, e deliberato farse christiano et la excellentia de lo illustrissimo signore Duca nostro consorte ha pensato perdonargli.” 3. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194): “poiché anchor lui se è convertito e se vuole far christiano.” 4. Adriano Prosperi, “Conversion on the Scaffold: Italian Practices in Eu­ro­ pean Context,” in Space and Conversion in Global Perspective, ed. Giuseppe Marcocci, Aliocha Maldavsky, Wietse de Boer, and Ilaria Pavan (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 44–60; esp. 51. 5. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132), discussed in chapter 9. 6. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). 7. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 56r). 8. Francesco Gonzaga’s missive to Bardolini of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 56r), was sent from Marmirolo, and Eleonora of Aragon mentioned his departure for Venice in her letter to Isabella d’Este of that date (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). On Francesco’s extensive travels during the first years of his marriage, see Molly Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga: The Soldier-­Prince as Patron (Rome: Bulzoni, 2008), 37–38. For the delay in carry­ing out Angelo’s verdict, see Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 243–244. 9. Antimaco’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 25, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 70); Don Benedetto Mastino’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 26, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 502). 10. Just a few weeks ­earlier, Isabella asked Mastino to assist a battered wife who could not go on living with her violent husband (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 45). 11. This letter is noted in passing in Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 45–46. 12. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September  15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 44r): “Io ho recevuto adesso lettere da lo Illustrissimo Signore mio padre, per le qualle me conforta che io voglia intercedere gratia da la Signoria Vostra per la vita de Angelo hebreo detenuto qua, doppo che’l se vole fare christiano, perché Sua Excellentia l’ha etiam perdonata a Salomone da Sesso quale è in questa medesma deliberatione, per guadagnare l’anima sua, essendose acorto del errore suo, et promettendo de volere vivere da homo da bene et bono christiano. Sicché supplico ala Excellentia Vostra se digni donarme la vita de questo Angelo et in questo imitare lo illustrissimo Signore mio padre essendo opera pietosa, et institutione de Christo, qual disse, nolo mortem peccatoris, sed ut convertatur, et vivat” (italics added).

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13. Prosperi, Delitto e perdono, 154–155; Vincenzo Lavenia, “Eretici sentenziati e ‘reincorporati’: Sacramenti, grazia e conforto in alcune norme delle Inquisizioni,” in Misericordie, ed. Prosperi, 153–187; esp. 180. 14. On Isabella’s standing as Mantua’s coruler, see Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 49–86. 15. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 60 v): “Li hebrei nostri de Mantue.” 16. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 33. 17. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of September 7, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 52v): “alcuni errori molto enormi ne la cità nostra, et in specie in mettere sottosopra tuti li zudei che lì sono.” 18. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 60 v): “Li hebrei nostri de Mantue ne scriveno la inclusa per la quale vederete questo ne fanno intendere del procuratore che è comparso nanti vui prestandovi che non facestive ponere fuora suso la preda Angelo hebreo per essersi baptizato, et non nominarsi più Angelo, del che se maravigliamo assai et maxime che voi questa cosa se alegino tal rasone frivole.” 19. On which see Vittore Colorni, “Fatti e figure di storia ebraica Mantovana,” La rassegna mensile di Israel 9, nos. 5 / 6 (September–­October 1934): 217–239; esp. 226–227; Katz, The Jew in the Art of the Italian Re­nais­sance, 40–68. 20. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 60 v): “vogliamo ne advisar el nome del procuratore che è comparso per esso Angelo allegando che più non ha nome Angelo, perché desideramo saper chi è quello homo da bene et che ha tanto del Catholico.” 21. On this theological stance, see Prosperi, “Conversion on the Scaffold,” 51. 22. The notion that a morally depraved Jew who converted to Chris­t ian­ity would lack the perseverance to become a decent Christian was also voiced by Jews in early modern Italy (Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 244). 23. Such a view was not l­ imited to baptized Jews and could be extended to converts to Catholicism in general (see Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy, 92). 24. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 17, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 61v): “De Angelo zudeo sostenuto, che ne dimandate de gratia, per intercessione dello Illustrissimo Signore Duca, nostro patre honorando, ne perdonarete se non satisfaremo al desiderio vostro, che deliberamo la iustitia habia loco, perché non dubitiamo, si come lo è stato cativo zudeo, serria pegiore Christiano, & meglio è per lui tanto che’l è in bono essere e ben disposto che’l se ne morà.” 25. Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 244, refer to Bardolini’s letter of September 27. My reading of the date is September 17, which also



NOTES TO PAGES 83–85

makes sense in light of the date of Francesco Gonzaga’s original letter asking Bardolini to send him the procuratore’s name, and of the marquis’s subsequent response to Bardolini’s letter on September 20. 26. Giacomo was the ­brother of Bartolomeo Marasca, who had served as master of the ­house­hold of Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga during the 1460s: David S. Chambers, “Bartolomeo Marasca, Master of Cardinal Gonzaga’s House­hold (1462–1469),” in Chambers, Re­nais­sance Cardinals and Their Worldly Prob­lems (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 265. 27. De Susannis, Tractatus de Iudaeis, 139–140. 28. Ermolao Bardolini’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 17, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 322): “più sonno le opinione non si proceda contra tal baptizato per reverentia del sacramento del baptismo.” 29. Ercole d’Este’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 19, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 201): “Intendemo che si trova in pregione lì a Mantua uno Angelo hebreo, quale pare che se sia facto christiano, e che pare si proceda contra lui per volerlo fare iustitiare, et perché nui desideramo che dicto Angelo non perisca, maxime essendossi facto Christiano vi confortamo strettamente che per nostro amore li vogliati fare la gratia.” 30. On the staging of early modern public executions, see Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Eu­rope, 108–109. 31. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 20, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 63r), discussed in Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 244. On the public display of criminals’ corpses, see Terpstra, “Theory into Practice,” 135–137; Prosperi, “Conversion on the Scaffold,” 51–52. 32. Ercole d’Este’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 21, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 203). 33. Isabella d’Este’s instructions to her secretaries of September 21, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 48r). 34. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ermolao Bardolini of September 22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 48v). 35. Isabella d’Este’s undated letter (evidently sent on September 22, 1491) to Francesco Gonzaga (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 48v). 36. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September  22, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, cc. 63v–64r). On the importance of seals in Isabella’s correspondence with Francesco, see Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 32–33. 37. Isabella d’Este’s instructions to Ermolao Bardolini of September 23, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 49r). 38. Antimaco’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 25, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 70). 39. Don Benedetto had worked in the ser­vice of Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis Francesco’s late u ­ ncle. Having been Mantua’s archpriest since

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40.

41.

42. 43. 44. 45.

46. 47. 48. 49.

50.

1475, he became its archdeacon in 1478. See Chambers, “Mantua and Trent,” 87–88; David S. Chambers, “A Defence of Non-­residence in the ­L ater Fifteenth ­Century: Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga and the Mantuan Clergy,” in Chambers, Re­nais­sance Cardinals and Their Worldly Prob­lems, 613– 614, 621, 623–624, 632; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 45. Don Benedetto Mastino’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 26, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 502): “Io ho intieso che Vostra Illustrisima Signoria è irata et turbata contra de nui per quello zudeo baptizato, unde me dolio non haverlo saputo quando era aporto da Vostra Signoria perché haveria facto intendere la inocentia mia a quella. Unde io dico che se Vostra Signoria trova . . . ​che mai ne habia parlato ne facto parlare prego quella me faza la più aspra punitione sia al mondo.” On the Lateran Canons of San Ruffino in Mantua, see Ippolito Donesmondi, Dell’Istoria ecclesiastica di Mantova (Mantua: Aurelio & Lodovico Osanna, 1612), 1:10, 31, 256–257; Sally Anne Hickson, ­Women, Art, and Architecture in Re­nais­sance Mantua: Matrons, Mystics, and Monasteries (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2012), 81n52. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). Prosperi, “Consolation or Condemnation,” 110–111. Ermolao Bardolini’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 17, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 322). Don Benedetto Mastino’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 26, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2440, c. 502): “più presto el morerà tanto più presto andaralo in paradiso et pregarà dio per me.” Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 17, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 61v). Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194). Prosperi, “Morire volentieri,” 16–19. For the Re­nais­sance emphasis on inwardness, see John Martin, “Inventing Sincerity, Refashioning Prudence: The Discovery of the Individual in Re­ nais­sance Eu­rope,” American Historical Review 102, no.  5 (December 1997): 1309–1342. On self-­fashioning, see Stephen Greenblatt’s classic monograph, Re­nais­sance Self-­Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983). Natalie Zemon Davis, “On the Lame,” American Historical Review 93, no. 3 (June  1988):  572–603, persuasively demonstrates the importance of “conjectural knowledge and pos­si­ble truth” in the study of the lower echelons of early modern Eu­ro­pean society, especially in the absence of “full depositions and testimony from the ­t rials and of . . . ​d iaries or letters” (574–575).



NOTES TO PAGES 87–90

51. Diaries and autobiographies of Italian converts or potential converts from Judaism only became common ­toward the end of the early modern era. On ­these types of sources and the methodological prob­lems involved in treating them as ego-­documents, see Adelisa Malena, “I demoni di Alvisa: Il racconto autobiografico di Alvisa Zambelli alias Lea Gaon,” in La fede degli italiani: Per Adriano Prosperi, ed. Guido Dall’Olio, Adelisa Malena, and Pierroberto Scaramella (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2011), 1:383–402; Kenneth Stow, Anna and Tranquillo: Catholic Anxiety and Jewish Protest in the Age of Revolution (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016), 1–18. 52. On Re­nais­sance letters as ego-­documents, see Peter Burke, “Repre­sen­t a­ tions of the Self from Petrarch to Descartes,” in Rewriting the Self: Histories from the Re­nais­sance to the Pre­sent, ed. Roy Porter (London: Routledge, 1997), 17–28; esp. 21–24. 53. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 99, 163, 187; Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera,” 119. 54. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 25, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 36); Prosperi’s letter to Isabella of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40); Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to the marchioness of that day (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93); Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, 815–818; Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 223 (where the ­brother in holy o ­ rders is identified as Andrea). 55. One such case is analyzed in Allison Sherman, “Murder and Martyrdom: Titian’s Gesuiti Saint Lawrence as a ­Family Peace Offering,” Artibus et historiae 68 (2013): 39–54. 56. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  6, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 38). 57. Bernardino de’ Prosperi informed Eleonora of the pro­g ress in the construction of this cell in his letter of July 23, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Cancelleria marchionale poi ducale Estense, Carteggio di referendari, consiglieri, cancellieri e segretari, busta 4). 58. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  3, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 39). The dating of this letter is not clear, but since it opens with news of the demise of Giovanni Nicolò of Coreggio, the ducal secretary who died on October 3 (Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, 817), it can be dated to that day. 59. As noted in Ercole d’Este’s response to Eleonora of Aragon, which was sent from Comacchio on October  9, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 68). 60. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September  15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 44r). 61. Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera”; Prosperi, “Statistiche criminali,” 511–521. For the designated areas for public executions in other cities, see Terpstra, “Theory into Practice,” 127–129.

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NOTES TO PAGES 90–91

62. Ercole d’Este’s letter to Eleonora of Aragon of October 9, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 68): “havemo molto bene notato quanto sopra cio ne ricorda la Vostra Signoria, et sicome respondemo al prefato Reverendo frate Mariano, cussì anche diremo ala Signoria Vostra, che veramente ne remanesse, che il caso sia de tale sorte, che non potiamo, ne dobiamo in tanto delicto usare altra clementia, che quella che rechiede la justitia, perché quando facessemo altramente cognoscemo molto bene el carricho, che ne seria, et quanto ne saressemo biasemati, et anche el tristo exempio, che se daria ali tristi de fare peggio, siché la Vostra Signoria in questo non havera excusati [sic], et cussì anche farà fare la scusa nostra col nostro frate Mariano, oltra la resposta che li faremo, perché troppo ni dole non lo potere compiacere, si per lo amore che li portamo, como per essere nui inclinati a clementia. Ma in questo caso ni bisogna per honore nostro volere quello che vole la justitia, per le ragione antedicte, et per molte altre che potressemo addurre.” 63. Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 135: “[1494] . . . ​ frate Mariano predicava in vescovado, et de due anni inanti ge havea anche predicato; et in dicta Quadragesima se batezèno assai Marani et Marane.” ­ ere baptized Marani in this context does not refer to conversos, since they w for the first time in 1494. On the term’s use for designating unbaptized Jews of Spanish origins, see Pier Cesare Ioly Zorattini, “Sephardic Settlement in Ferrara u ­ nder the House of Este,” in New Horizons in Sephardic Studies, ed. Yedida K. Stillman and George K. Zucker (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 5–13; esp. 6. For the conversion of exiled Jews from Iberia in other Italian cities in ­those years, see Michele Luzzati, “Fuggire dalla Spagna per convertirsi in Italia: Ebrei sefarditi a Lucca alla fine del Quattrocento,” in E andammo dove il vento ci spinse: La cacciata degli ebrei dalla Spagna, ed. Guido Nathan Zazzu (Genoa: Marietti, 1992), 103–114. 64. Salomone’s oration is reported in the letters of Francesco da Bagnacavallo (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93), Girolamo Magnanino (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167), and Bernardino de’ Prosperi (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40) to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491, and in Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132). 65. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 231, remarks that Ercole d’Este admired Fra Mariano’s eloquence. On the friar’s fame as a preacher, see Gutiérrez, “Testi e note su Mariano da Genazzano,” 128; Zelina Zarafana, “Per la storia religiosa di Firenze nel Quattrocento: Una raccolta privata di prediche,” Studi Medievali 3, ser. 9 (1968): 1017–1113; esp. 1048–1049n53; Peter Howard, “The Impact of Preaching in Re­nais­sance Florence: Fra Niccolò da Pisa at San Lorenzo,” Medieval Sermon Studies 48 (2004), 29–44; esp. 33n14. 66. Gundersheimer, “­Women, Learning, and Power,” 52–53; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 244–246.



NOTES TO PAGES 91–94

67. Dr. Allen J. Grieco, personal communication, December 7, 2014. 68. As noted in the letters that Francesco da Bagnacavallo (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93), Girolamo Magnanino (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167), and Bernardino de’ Prosperi (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40) sent Isabella d’Este on October 10, 1491. 69. Chiappini, “Eleonora d’Aragona,” 75; Lewis Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­ sance Ferrara, 1400–1505: The Creation of a Musical Center in the Fifteenth ­C entury (1984; repr., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 136, 138–142. 70. On the functions of godparents in northern Italy in this period, though focusing exclusively on infant baptisms, see Guido Alfani, ­Fathers and Godfathers: Spiritual Kinship in Early Modern Italy, trans. Christine Calvert (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009). On early modern godparenthood in general, see Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Eu­rope, 21–22. C H A P T E R N I N E  ​ ​B A P T I Z I N G T H E J E W S

1. Bonfil, “An Infant’s Missionary Sermon,” 155. 2. Stow, Catholic Thought, xix–­x xiv, 201–203. 3. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 87; Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 135, 174–175. 4. The baptisms of high-­profile Jews continued to be deemed as especially apt occasions for public rejoicing and w ­ ere recorded in writing in the post-­ Tridentine era: Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­Reformation,” 133–134; Piero Di Nepi, “Riti di una sera d’estate: Una conversione e una festa barocca a Casale del Monferrato,” La Rassegna mensile di Israel 57 (September–­December  1991):  479–488; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 272–281. 5. ­After Alfonso d’Este’s ascension to the ducal throne in 1505, Magnanino was appointed ducal secretary. On his ­career at the Este court, see Marcantonio Guarini, Compendio historico dell’origine, accrescimento, e Prerogative delle Chiese, e Luoghi Pii della Città, e Diocesi di Ferrara (Ferrara: Presso gli eredi di Vittorio Baldini, 1621), 351; Luigi Ughi, Dizionario storico degli uomini illustri ferraresi nella pietà, nelle arti, e nelle scienze colle loro opere, o fatti principali (Ferrara: Per gli eredi di Giuseppe Rinaldi, 1804), 45–46; Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 2:627, 788. 6. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132) is reproduced in Chiappini, “Eleonora d’Aragona,” 75–76. 7. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 223. 8. The ceremony began “at the twenty-­fi rst hour,” that is, at three in the after­noon, as noted in the letters that Girolamo Magnanino and Francesco da Bagnacavallo sent Isabella d’Este on October 10, 1491 (ASMn,

303

304

NOTES TO PAGE 94

9. 10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

AG, busta 1232, c. 167 and c. 93). The hours of the day ­were counted from six o ­ ’clock in the eve­n ing (Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 33n117). On mea­sur­i ng the time in fifteenth-­century Italy, see also Elizabeth S. Cohen and Thomas V. Cohen, Daily Life in Re­nais­sance Italy (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2001), 165–168. See Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, 139, 151–152, 316. Rainaldo d’Este, Duke Ercole’s half b ­ rother and faithful supporter, held a small, in­de­pen­dent court, on which see Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­n ais­ sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 61–63. Anna Sforza, ­daughter of the recently deceased Duke of Milan, arrived in Ferrara in January  1491 (Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 150–151). Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “Salomone hebreo aurifice cum uno suo figliolo di anni circa nove, e una giovene pur hebrea di anni circa XVII furono accompagnati honorevolessimamente per Madama cum tutti li illustri fratelli di Vostra Signoria, Madonna Anna e la corte di M. Raynaldo allo Sacro Baptesimo e baptizati.” Letters of Bernardino de’ Prosperi, Francesco da Bagnacavallo, and Girolamo Magnanino to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, cc. 40, 93, 167). Graziadio’s name appears in his grand­mother Ricca’s testament of 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). He is also mentioned by name in the notarial document of August 21, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10). Graziadio’s nickname is noted in the notarial act of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10). My reading of “Semaia” in this document differs from the reading of Andrea Franceschini, who published a summary (in Italian) of this Latin document in Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 429 (doc. 1247), transcribing Graziadio’s nickname as “Senzaia.” Semaia seems like a variant of the Hebrew name Shemaia (‫)שמעיה‬, which was occasionally given by early modern Jews in northern Italy to their sons (Vittore Colorni, “La corrispondenza fra nomi ebraici e nomi locali nella prassi dell’ebraismo italiano,” in Colorni, Judaica Minora, 661–825; esp. 781). That Shemaia was sometimes spelled Semaia in official documents is attested in the case of Semaia Trigo, a Jewish moneylender active in Rome, whose name is listed in the “Capitula XXti hebreorum bancheriorum Urbis 1534,” published in Anna Esposito, “Credito, ebrei, Monte di Pietà a Roma tra Quattro e Cinquecento,” Roma moderna e contemporanea 10, no.  3 (September–­ December  2002):  559–582; esp. 576–580. See also Claudio Procaccia, “Banchieri ebrei a Roma: Il credito su pegno in età moderna,” in Judei de Urbe, ed. Caffiero and Esposito, 155–179; esp. 167.



NOTES TO PAGES 94–97

15. Ottavia Niccoli, Il seme della violenza: Putti, fanciulli e mammoli nell’Italia tra Cinque e Seicento (Rome: Laterza, 1995); Konrad Eisenbichler, The Boys of the Archangel Raphael: A Youth Confraternity in Florence, 1411–1785 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998); Lorenzo Polizzotto, ­Children of the Promise: The Confraternity of the Purification and the Socialization of Youths in Florence, 1427–1785 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 16. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 177–178. 17. Bonfil, “An Infant’s Missionary Sermon,” 141–171. 18. For the pressure exerted on converts to secure the baptism of their spouses and c­ hildren throughout the early modern era, see Carlebach, Divided Souls, 138–156; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 111–198. 19. Rowan, “Ulrich Zasius and the Baptism of Jewish ­Children,” 3–25. On the enduring influence of Zasius’s stance, see Stow, Anna and Tranquillo, 151–152. 20. On the notion that female Jews could be more fully assimilated to Chris­ tian­ity than their male counter­parts ­because of their anomalous status as uncircumcised Jews, see Carlebach, Divided Souls, 182–184. 21. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132): “quella ebrea che era in casa de M. Daniel di Obici.” 22. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “una ebrea che se’ sia inamorata di uno cristiano.” 23. Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita,” 154–155. 24. See Shaye J. D. Cohen, Why A ­ ren’t Jewish ­Women Circumcised? Gender and Covenant in Judaism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 67–92, 133–137, 158–161. 25. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 223: “A dì 9, de domenega. Se baptizòno suxo uno tribunale grande in domo, a l’intrare del choro, dui Zudei maschi, padri e fioli, e una Zudea bella, in presentia de la illustrissima duchessa nostra madona Eleonora con li soi fioli e con tuta la Corte.” 26. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132); Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). 27. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “Ma in vero, Signora mia s’el caso di M.r Zilfredo fo atroce e crudele, il vedere decapitati questi dui giovinti è stato una cosa da far piangere uno saxo.” 28. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “se siano comossi a piangere a vedere dui giovani fratelli belli morire ambedui così aspramente.” 29. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “hamo tanto perduto quanto guadagnato,

305

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NOTES TO PAGES 97–99

che eri facisimo tri novi cristiani et ogi dui ne avemo morti et aspectiamo fra pochi giorni fare morire lo terzo aciò sia paro sparo lo guadagno cum la dispensa.” On Ercole d’Este’s insistence on prosecuting offenders who at the time of committing their alleged crime w ­ ere not in habit or tonsure, see Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 149. 30. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1185, c. 194); Isabella d’Este’s letter to Francesco Gonzaga of September 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 1, c. 44r). 31. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). For Magnanino’s close ties with Alfonso d’Este, see Ughi, Dizionario storico degli uomini illustri ferraresi, 45–46. 32. In Re­nais­sance Italy, parents sometimes also chose a baptismal name that honored a highborn godparent for their newborn babies as a sign of homage (Alfani, ­Fathers and Godfathers, 60). 33. This remained the case throughout the early modern era. In the 1570s, Jacob Abrabanel’s son converted in Ferrara and was christened Alfonso, in honor of Alfonso II d’Este, and shortly before the devolution of Ferrara in 1597, the Jewish girl Luina was baptized as Margherita, in honor of Duchess Margherita Gonzaga d’Este. See Renata Segre, “Sephardic Settlements in Sixteenth-­ Century Italy: A Historical and Geo­ graph­ i­ cal Survey,” Mediterranean Historical Review 6 (1991): 112–137; esp. 133; Federigo Amadei, Cronaca universale della città di Mantova: Edizione integrale, ed. Giuseppe Amadei, Ercolano Marani, and Giovanni Praticò (Mantua: C.I.T.E.M, 1955–1956), 3:188–189. 34. See Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 266; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 272–281. 35. On March 2, 1521, this wife sent a supplication to Isabella d’Este identifying herself as Eleonora (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 36. That Duchess Eleonora had had the new clothes made for Anna Antonia is noted in Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). 37. The baptismal names of the three neophytes are reported in Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). Neither Bernardino de’ Prosperi nor Francesco da Bagnacavallo mention the name Antonia, which was given to the Caios’ ­daughter as a second name, in their letters to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, cc. 40, 93), noting only that she received the name Anna. 38. Stow, Anna and Tranquillo, 123, 168. For the greater reluctance of Italian Jewish ­women, in comparison to their male counter­parts, to convert, see Anna Foa, “Le donne nella storia degli ebrei in Italia,” in Le donne delle minoranze: Le ebree e le protestanti d’Italia, ed. Claire E. Honess and Verina R.



NOTES TO PAGES 99–100

Jones (Turin: Claudiana, 1999), 11–29; esp. 25–27; Galasso, Alle origini di una comunità, 116–117; Ariel Toaff, Storie fiorentine: Alba e tramonto dell’ebreo del ghetto (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2013), 102–103. 39. For medieval pre­ce­dents of ­women losing custody over their young ­children ­because they did not follow their husbands and convert, see Jessie Sherwood, “Rebellious Youth and Pliant C ­ hildren: Jewish Converts in ‘Adolescentia,’ ” in Medieval Life Cycles: Continuity and Change, ed. Isabelle Cochelin and Karen Elaine Smyth (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 183–209; esp. 187–189. On early modern Italian Jewish w ­ omen who converted from fear of being separated from their c­ hildren, see Malena, “I demoni di Alvisa,” 387; Stow, Anna and Tranquillo, 54–55. 40. On Ferrante / Ferdinando, see Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara, 694; Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307–308. His original Jewish name is noted in the notarial documents of August 21 and December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10). On the use of Ferrante and its Spanish variant Ferdinando in northern Italy, see Shemek, “Introduction,” 4. 41. This girl is designated as “the d ­ aughter of Ercole the goldsmith, the former Jew,” in the list of Ferrarese damsels, ­u nder eigh­teen years of age, that Duke Ercole d’Este selected for Lucrezia Borgia in 1502 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I, fasc. 8). Her baptismal name is recorded in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). 42. See Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 289. 43. The chronicle of Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara states that at the time of her vestition in August 1501 she was twenty-­t wo years old (Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova, ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 44. On the significance of the age of young female converts, see Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita,” 150–151, 155–156; Sherwood, “Rebellious Youth and Pliant ­Children,” 203–204. On twelve as the age of girls’ transition to adulthood, see Alessia Bertolazzi, Irene Lodi, and Alessandra Rossi, “Per potere, per violenza: Infanzia e sessualità,” in “El più soave et dolce et dilectevole et gratioso bochone”: Amore e sesso al tempo dei Gonzaga, ed. Costantino Cipolla and Giancarlo Malacarne (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2006), 185–209; esp. 193. 45. For ­earlier Ferrarese neophytes who assumed this name, see Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 24–26, 28–29, 35, 132 (docs. 28–30, 33–34, 36, 41–44, 60, 361b). For the name’s prevalence among converts from Judaism, see Veronese, Una famiglia di banchieri ebrei, 215–216; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 191; and, for the post-­Tridentine era, Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 142; Samuela Marconcini, “La storia della pia Casa dei catecumeni di Firenze (1636–1799)” (PhD diss., Scuola Normale Superiore, 2012), 171; Rothman, Brokering Empire, 143n77.

307

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NOTES TO PAGES 101–102

46. Referring to the supplication of 1521, in which the goldsmith’s wife mentioned her three unmarried ­daughters, Angelucci (Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308) suggests that they must have been christened in honor of ­either Beatrice or Isabella d’Este. I found no evidence to support this hypothesis, and in any case ­these girls ­were prob­ably born ­after their ­father’s baptism in 1491. 47. See Bowd, “The Conversion of Margarita,” 158–159; Di Nepi, “Riti di una sera d’estate,” 482–484. 48. See Anthony Colantuono, “Estense Patronage and the Construction of the Ferrarese Re­nais­sance, c. 1395–1598,” in The Court Cities of Northern Italy, ed. Rosenberg, 196–243; esp. 208–210. For the “quasi-­civic nature of the large cathedral proj­ects” of architectural and artistic patronage in which Ercole d’Este was involved, see Colantuono, 231. 49. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “et cussì giunti ala porta de la ecclesia, dove era in quel punto arivato il vesco aparato pontificalmente.” The pontifical vestments, also known as pontificals, are the liturgical vestments of Catholic bishops. 50. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 87. 51. See Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 134. 52. Luciano Chiappini, Werther Angelini, and Amerigo Baruffaldi, La chiesa di Ferrara nella storia della città e del suo territorio, secoli XV–­X X (Ferrara: Corbo, 1997), 13–14. 53. Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Eu­rope, 21. 54. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “Furono primo christianati ad uno ad uno, cum belle cerimonie.” 55. Calvin B. Kendall, The Allegory of the Church: Romanesque Portals and Their Verse Inscriptions (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), 85–86. On Niccolò and the sculpted portals that he made for vari­ous northern Italian cathedrals, see David M. Robb, “Niccolò: A North Italian Sculptor of the Twelfth ­Century,” Art Bulletin 12, no. 4 (December 1930): 374–420; Trude Krautheimer-­Hess, “The Original Porta dei Mesi at Ferrara and the Art of Niccolò,” Art Bulletin 26, no. 3 (September 1944): 152–174. 56. This Latin rendering of the Hebrew passage was a major source of disagreement between Christians and Jews. See Clifford Hubert Durousseau, “Isaiah 7:14B in New Major Christian Bible Translations,” Jewish Bible Quarterly 41, no. 3 (2013) 175–180. For the incorporation of this verse into artistic repre­sen­ta­tions of the Annunciation, see Roger P. Tarr, “Ecce Virgo Concipiet: The Iconography and Context of Duccio’s London Annunciation,” Viator 31 (2000): 185–203. 57. Sara Lipton has argued that the new prominence of the Hebrew prophets in twelfth-­century iconography, albeit closely linked to the growing intolerance ­toward the Jews, also reflected devotional trends within Chris­



NOTES TO PAGES 102–105

tian­ity. See Lipton, “Unfeigned Witness: Jews, ­Matter, and Vision in Twelfth-­Century Christian Art,” in Judaism and Christian Art, ed. Kessler and Nirenberg, 45–73. 58. Kendall, The Allegory of the Church, 92–98. 59. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132). 60. Bryan D. Spinks, Early and Medieval Rituals and Theologies of Baptism: From the New Testament to the Council of Trent (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), 136, 156; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 289. 61. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “di poi entroreno in chiesa, et pervenero nel circulo che è in domo, dove era facto uno eminente tribunale, sopra il quale salendo prima il Vesco, et li novi christicoli che ogniuno di loro li erano atacati ala stolla, furono tuti baptizati”; Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “et a questo acto gli fo tuta Ferrara.” 62. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “per mano delo episcopo dinati del crucifixo.” 63. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). 64. Before the Council of Trent, the number of godfathers and godmothers allowed to take part in baptismal ceremonies in northern Italy—­which ­were almost exclusively infant baptisms—­varied considerably from one locality to another but usually averaged one or two (Alfani, ­Fathers and Godfathers, 27–52). 65. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “la ebrea la ha tenuta la illustrissima signora Anna et ha nome Anna.” For Bagnacavallo’s ties with Anna Sforza, see Iotti, Rinascimento spezzato, 141, 148–149. 66. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “la giovene la tene Messer Raynaldo e chiamasse Anna.” 67. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “La dona fue tenuta da la illustrissima Madona Anna, et da lo illustrissimo Messer Rainaldo, et fue chiamata Anna et Antonia.” 68. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “Furono tuti baptizati in camisa, excepto la dona, che per più honestà rimaste pure cun li pani indoso, che li ha facti fare Madama, et cussì li altri furono vestiti di novo. La Signoria sua tene Salamone, et fuli posto nome Hercule, et teniralo cum bona provisione, per la virtù sua.”

309

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NOTES TO PAGES 105–108

69. Jacobs, Defining the Re­nais­sance Virtuosa, 9–10. 70. Antonio Costabili’s letter to Ercole d’Este of Apri 1, 1497, cited in Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 202. 71. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “perché io amo dicto Salomone per essere nel mestere suo molto virtuoso.” 72. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of August 21, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 28v–29r): “stimamo el lavorere, et virtù sua.” 73. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132): “Domenica intervenni al baptismo de Salomone et de suo figliolo et de quella ebrea che era in casa de Messer Daniel di Obici, che si fece in vescoato molto solennemente.” 74. Eleonora of Aragon’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 11, 1491 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 132): “post baptismum Salomone salito in pulpito disse molto accommodamente et eloquentemente le cagione che lo havevano mosso a farsi christiano, precipue per cognoscere la nostra essere la vera fede, et addusse molti testi in ebraico a provare la Trinità, lo advenimento de X.po nato da virgine, la passione sua, et il baptismo; et da chi ha ingegnio et cognitione fu molto laudata come non dubito che vostra Excellentia etiam per altra via haverà inteso.” My reading of the last sentence differs from Chiappini, “Eleonora d’Aragona,” 76, where the last few words are transcribed as “per altra mia haverà inteso” (italics added). 75. See Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 62–80. 76. Joel E. Rembaum, “Medieval Jewish Criticism of the Christian Doctrine of Original Sin,” American Jewish Studies Review 7, no. 8 (1983): 353–382; esp. 375. 77. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “Et facto questo Salamone vel Hercule montò sopra uno pergoleto facto a posta, et qui cum la biblia in mano provò, et dise, cum auctorità de propheti in hebraico, et poi in nostra lingua, come non se doveva più per hebrei expectare Messia, cum multe belle et digne cosse.” 78. Carlebach, Divided Souls, 157–166; Stow, “Conversion, Christian Hebraism, and Hebrew Prayer,” 217–236. On the education of Jewish boys in Re­nais­ sance Italy, see Bonfil, Jewish Life in Re­nais­sance Italy, 125–133. 79. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167): “narrando etiam lo modo per il quale il se sia convertito ala doctrina nostra, che seria lungo racontarlo, quale per non tediare vostra Signoria non lo racontarò, ma basta che la fede nostra multipplica, et perché scio quella ni haverà piacere, mi è parso significargello.” 80. The goldsmith was charged with falsely defaming the Jews of Mantua in Francesco Gonzaga’s order to banish him from his state, drafted by Anti-



81. 82.

83.

84. 85.

86.

NOTES TO PAGES 108–114

maco on February 18, 1495 (ASMn, AG, 2906, lib. 150, c. 72v), discussed in chapter 11. See Kendall, The Allegory of the Church, 85–86. Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “poi montò in suxo uno pergolo là facto quel novo cristiano Ercole, et lì predicò cum lo libro dela bibia in mano in ebraico et dichiarò quale caxone lo haveva inducto a farsi cristiano, dechiarò multi testi de Isaia, de Ieonimo, de Daniel, et altri profeti assai et de Sancto Jovanni Evangelista, digando et dischiarando lo errore deli Judei in aspectare lo messia, mostrando lui che loro non pono negare per lo dicto deli profetti che lo vero messia è venuto qualle fu Yhesu XPO benedicto.” Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 93): “Poi etiam in sua excusatione narò qualle fusi la caxone del suo essere stato carcerato dali ebrei, digando che lo odio li era venuto dali zudei de Mantoa, per quello miraculo della gloriosa nostra dona [sic] in quello puto che morì al tempo passato como Vostra Signoria è informatissima.” See Chapter 4. For Isabella’s reliance on Prosperi’s reports, see James, “An Insatiable Appetite for News,” 388. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Ete of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40): “poi Salamone salitò in pergolo, e narrò la causa per la quale se era conducto a Baptizare, che era per conoscere veramente la sua fede essere erronea, e qui allegò multe proficie che li hebrei le tirano a tristo sentimento e anche le occultano. Questo porse narrando poi ultimamente il miracolo accaduto a Mantua, di quella puta hebraica, et a questo acto gli fo tuta Ferrara.” I thank Prof. Lino Pertile for his help with translating this letter. On the Virgin Mary, see Rubin, “The Passion of Mary,” 60–63. For religious conversion as a lengthy, gradual pro­cess of multiple transformations, see Marc David Baer, “History and Religious Conversion,” in The Oxford Handbook of Religious Conversion, ed. Rambo and Farhadian, 25–47; esp. 25–29. C H A P T E R T E N  ​ ​A H A U N T I N G P A S T

1. ­These ­d aughters ­were mentioned in the supplication sent to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 2. On the use of such gilded silver decorations see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 100–103. 3. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 637, c. 68v : “A Maestro Erchule da Sesso orevexe per dorare una roxa lavorata de fillo de argento”; ASMo, CD, AP, no. 633, c.

311

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NOTES TO PAGE 114



4.



5. 6.



7.



8.



9.

10. 11.

250r: “a MCCCCLXXXXI . . . ​adì viii de Novembre . . . ​a 25 dicto . . . ​a Maestro Erchule da Seso orevexe controscripto per dorare uno fornimento da libro fato de filo.” Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 208 erroneously gives November 25, 1490, as the date on which this rec­ord was drafted (see also Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307–308). Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233): “Salamon Aurifex Illustrissime Domine Ducisse Ferrarie”; and see chapters 3 and 5. See Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art,” 120–121. Master Ercole da Sesso’s name does not appear in the extant list of members of the goldsmiths’ guild in Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea, Ferrara [hereafter BCAF], Fondo Statuti, no. 14, cc. 7r–11r. This list names the master goldsmiths who resided in Ferrara in 1476, just ­after the separation of the goldsmiths’ guild from that of the blacksmiths, and of eighty members who joined the guild in 1477–1585 (without recording the year of their matriculation). While Master Giacomino of Cremona’s name is mentioned in this incomplete list, neither Master Ercole da Sesso / de’ Fedeli nor his sons, the goldsmiths Master Alfonso and Master Ferrante / Ferdinando, who w ­ ere active in Ferrara in the sixteenth ­century, are included in it. On the codex in which the list appears, see Manu Statuta: I codici della Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea, ed. Mirna Bonazza (Ferrara: Centro Stampa, 2008), 91–100. The documents pertaining to the goldsmiths’ guild in the Archivio Storico Comunale (Ferrara), Archivio Antico del Comune di Ferrara, Serie Corporazioni delle Arti, Orefici, busta 24, all postdate the period in which Master Ercole and his sons worked as goldsmiths. ASMo, CD, Registro della Camera, Mandati in volume, no. 32, c. 65r. On this payment order, see Adriano Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara in età umanistica e rinascimentale: Testimonianze archivistiche. Parte II, Tomo II: Dal 1493 al 1516 (Ferrara: Gabriele Corbo, 1997), 16 (doc. 3i). For the Libro dei mandati of the Este rulers’ Camera Ducale, see Guerzoni, “La Camera Ducale Estense,” 173–174. ASMo, CD, Amministrazione della Casa [hereafter AC], Spenderia (1493), ­ ere regularly included in the Este no. 38, c. 80r. Payments of this kind w dukes’ account books (Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 155, 437). As stipulated in the Capitoli dell’Arte dei Fabbri in BCAF, Fondo Statuti, no. 39, cc. 6v–7v, 12. On t­ hese high costs as a f­ actor discouraging goldsmiths’ geographic mobility, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 165–166. On neophytes’ enduring ties with their erstwhile coreligionists, see Esposito, Un’altra Roma, 154–157; Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 195–197; David B. Ruderman, Early Modern Jewry: A New Cultural History (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2010), 180–186; Stow, “A Tale of Uncertainties,” 257–281.



NOTES TO PAGES 114–115

12. For Jewish moneylenders’ involvement in the trade of jewelry and other valuables in Ferrara, see Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 391, 429 (docs. 1093, 1251). In 1497, Master Ercole received a payment from his old-­ time Jewish acquaintance Manuele Norsa, as certified in the notarial document drafted by Bartolomeo Codegori on March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc. 76v–77r). In 1521, the goldsmith pawned the valuables that he had received from Isabella d’Este at the shop of Jewish pawnbrokers, as noted in the supplication of his wife, Eleonora, on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 13. Andrea Libanori (or Libamuri) succeeded his ­father, Ser Libanore Libanori (d. 1485), as ducal cancelliere. See Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 163n5; U. Dallari, “Carteggio tra i Bentivoglio e gli Estensi dal 1491 al 1542 esistente nell’Archivio di Stato in Modena,” Atti e memorie della R. Deputazione di storia patria per le provincie di Romagna, ser. 3, 19 (1900–1901): 245–355; esp. 252; Antonio Libanori, Ferrara d’oro imbrunito, parte prima. Che contiene le Vite, & Elogii degli Eminentissimi Signori Cardinali, Illustrissimi, e Reverendissimi Patriarchi, Arcivescovi, Vescovi, Prelati, e Religiosi famosissimi, nativi di questa Patria (Ferrara: Per Alfonso e Gio. Battista Maresti, 1665), 64. Andrea Libanori filled the office of ducal cancelliere alongside Bernardino de’ Prosperi. 14. ASMo, CD, Registro della Camera, Mandati in volume, no. 32, c. 65r (payment order signed by Andrea Libanori on April  2, 1493): “Libras sexaginta de marchesani, pro computo et ad computum aliquorum laboreriorum factorum sue excellentissime per dictum Herculem et pro ipso ac eius nomine Abraeme et sociis hebreis prestatoribus super via Sablonum pro pignoribus eiusdem Herculis suppignoratis penes.” 15. The name of “Abram son of Dattilo of Colonna, moneylender in the Banco dei Sabbioni,” comes up in numerous archival documents summarized in Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 420, 425–426, 429, 432–433, 438, 445 (docs. 1204, 1233, 1248, 1267, 1272, 1288, 1299, 1324). “Abram the Jew, moneylender in the [Banco dei] Sibioni [sic]” (Abram ebreo prestadore a Sibioni) is mentioned in the registers of Eleonora of Aragon’s payments in ASMo, CD, AP, no. 633, c. 227r ; ASMo, CD, AP, no. 637, c. 6v. 16. Graziani Secchieri, “Ebrei italiani, askenaziti e sefarditi a Ferrara,” 171– 185; Graziani Secchieri, “La presenza ebraica a Ferrara,” in Ebrei a Ferrara (XII–­X X sec.), ed. Caniatti and Graziani Secchieri, 5–7; Traniello, “Di Ferrara ma non a Ferrara,” 42–54. 17. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 410 (doc. 1154), and see chapter 2. 18. Trevor Dean, “Court and House­hold in Ferrara, 1494,” in The French Descent into Re­nais­sance Italy, 1494–95: Antecedents and Effects, ed. David Abulafia (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1995), 165–187; esp. 185. The reference in Dean, 185n32, is to Michele Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto ricostruita su nuovi

313

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NOTES TO PAGES 115–117

documenti (Florence: Olschki, 1930), 1:182, which identifies Abramo as the card player known as “Tusebec.” 19. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 45. 20. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Ercole d’Este of October 23, 1496 (ASMn, AG, busta 2907, lib. 156, c. 18) about “Abram Zudeo,” and the marquis’s letter to “Abramo Thus. hebreo” of October 23, 1496 (ASMn, AG, busta 2907, lib. 156, c. 18). 21. Francesco Gonzaga’s ­orders to Abramo Tusolo of June 22, 1495 (ASMn, AG, busta 2907, lib. 154). 22. Letter addressed to Francesco Gonzaga by “suo schiavo Abram [sic],” dated December 13, 1493, and sent from Ferrara (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 820): “Adviso a Vostra Signoria como ho intravenuto chi è sta’ raxom inseme cum Salamone da Sexo chiamato mo Hercules dela prigionia mia, li quali hano confessato ad Antonio di Costabili Siniscalcho e ad Bonaventura de’ Mosto theoxoriero essere stati loro insieme cum epso Salamone che hano fato tal cossa, et similmente dicto Salamone ha confessato ad epsi Siniscalcho et theoxoriero haverlo facto, et confessa anchora essere stati a Vinexia, et havere fato al pegio che hano potuto, et io ge do ad intendere de volerge fare la pace, la quale loro mi domandano et questo fazo per intendere bene la cossa, ma non ge la farò mai, havendo speranza in La Signoria Vostra, La quale mi ha cavato di tanto affano, che farà tale demostratione, che mostrarà quanto al dispiacere La ne ha havuto. Signore mio, io non vi posso scrivere il tuto, perché io seria troppo lungo, ma quando parlarò a bocha a Vostra Signoria gli farò intendere cosse, del grande assassinamento che mi è sta fato, chel ne faria compassiom a le prede. Lunidì proximo che vene ho speranza de recevere quilli dinari de quello mio famiglio che sa Vostra Signoria, et havuto che li habia, subito montarò a cavallo e vignirò a trovare quella, a la quale di continuo mi racomando como schiavo.” I am indebted to Profs. Guido Dall’Olio, Adelisa Malena, and Carlo Pulsoni for their valuable suggestions regarding the transcription and translation of this difficult text. 23. As noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 13, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 422). 24. Emilio Russo, “Mosti, Agostino,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2012), 77:340–341. Bonaventura de’ Mosti / Mosto is identified as trea­surer in a document of March 10, 1493 (ASMo, CD, Registro della Camera, Mandati in volume, no. 32, c. 47v). 25. Caleffini, Croniche, 1471–1494, 812; Franca Petrucci, “Costabili, Antonio,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1984), 30:257–260. 26. Folin, “Note sugli officiali negli Stati estensi,” 99–155; Dean, “Court and House­hold in Ferrara,” 184; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 345; Cesare Fras-



NOTES TO PAGES 117–121

soni, Memorie del Finale di Lombardia umiliate all’altezza ser­en­is­sima di Francesco III (Modena: Società tipografica, 1778), 49, 65. 27. See Guerzoni, Le corti estensi e la devoluzione di Ferrara, 81. 28. Folin, Rinascimento estense, 134–139. 29. Acts of peace could be granted by the victims several years a­ fter the guilt of their supposed offenders had been established, could take a long time to obtain, and sometimes involved the intervention of princely patrons; see Trevor Dean, “Vio­lence, Vendetta, and Peacemaking in Late Medieval Bologna,” in Crime, Gender, and Sexuality in Criminal Prosecutions, ed. Louis A. Knafla (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2002), 1–17; esp. 10–11; Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 23–24; Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 167–168. 30. Stuard, Gilding the Market, 2–3, 169–172. 31. Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 388, 416 (docs. 1071, 1184). 32. Franceschini, 390–391 (doc. 1088). The proceedings w ­ ere eventually annulled, and Abramo made peace with the servant. On Sigismondo d’Este’s notoriously rowdy servants, see Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 150. 33. The letter, sent by “Abram the Jew” to Sigismondo d’Este on September 8, 1494 (ASMo, ASE, Archivi per materie: Ebrei, busta 6, c. 10), is written in the same scribal hand as the previously mentioned missive of December  13, 1493, to Francesco Gonzaga. The assailant Jew, Simone, worked in the ser­v ice of a certain Prospero—­prob­ably the Jewish moneylender of the Banco dei Sabbioni, who had been involved in a dispute with Tusolo over an unpaid debt since 1486 (Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara, 407 [doc. 1149]). 34. Chiappini, “Eleonora d’Aragona,” 95–99; Gundersheimer, “­ Women, Learning, and Power,” 43. 35. Guido Guerzoni and Guido Alfani, “Court History and ­Career Analy­sis: A Prosopographic Approach to the Court of Re­nais­sance Ferrara,” Court Historian 12, no. 1 (2007): 1–34; esp. 23–24. 36. In the same vein, Benvenuto Cellini was subject to prosecution instigated by his adversaries once he could no longer rely on the protection of his papal patron (Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 170–171). 37. Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, 136, 142, 218–222. C H A P T E R E L E V E N  ​ ​ T R A V E L S A N D T R O U­B L E S



1. As recorded in ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121 (“Libro de recordi de guardaroba, 1495–1509”), c. 7v. The consignment of pieces of silver to Master Ercole da Sesso is noted in Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara in età umanistica e rinascimentale: Testimonianze archivistiche. Parte II, Tomo II: Dal 1493 al 1516, 151 (doc. 170), without specifying the types of works that the

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goldsmith subsequently produced. For the use of the term terribile (or turibolo) in the Ferrarese dialect, see Giuseppe Trenti, s.v. “Terribile,” in Voci di terre Estensi: Glossario del volgare d’uso comune (Ferrara-­Modena) da documenti e cronache del tempo, secoli XIV–­X VI (Vignola: Fondazione di Vignola, 2008), 580; Venturi, “Le arti minori a Ferrara nella fine del secolo XV,” 453. 2. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 171–185. 3. ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121, cc. 7v–8r. 4. Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 65–75. Goldsmiths also received commissions for gilding wooden pro­cessional tabernacles: Machtelt Israëls, “Altars on the Street: The Wool Guild, the Carmelites, and the Feast of Corpus Domini in Siena (1356–1456),” Re­nais­sance Studies 20, no.  2 (2006): 180–200; esp. 198. 5. ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121, c. 8r: “Maestro Erchule da Seso horevexe . . . ​u no tabernachullo lavorato di fillo e di straforo smaltato e dorato ha fatto di mano, havuto da lui.” For the technical term, see Trenti, s.v. “Straforo,” in Voci di terre Estensi, 554. 6. Claudia Bolgia, “ ‘Icons in the Air’: New Settings for the Sacred in Medieval Rome,” in Architecture and Pilgrimage, 1000–1500: Southern Eu­rope and Beyond, ed. Paul Davies, Deborah Howard, and Wendy Pullan (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), 113–142. 7. Raffaela Pini, “Il potere dell’Arte: Il significato politico di alcuni reliquiari bolognesi tardo gotici,” in Il potere: Forme, rappresentazioni, contestazioni, ed. Raffaele Laudani and Marica Tolomelli, special issue of Storicamente: Laboratorio di Storia 3, no.  15 (2007): 1–38, http://­storicamente​.­org​/­03pini (accessed December 3, 2017). 8. Venturi, “Le arti minori a Ferrara nella fine del secolo XV,” 452. 9. Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia, 351. 10. See, for example, Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale; Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este; Yriarte, Autour des Borgia; Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli.” 11. Mario Scalini, “Appunti per lo studio delle armerie estensi,” in Un Rinascimento singolare: La corte degli Este a Ferrara. Bruxelles, Palais des Beaux-­Arts, 3 ottobre 2003–11 gennaio 2004, ed. Jadranka Bentini and Grazia Agostini (Milan: Silvana, 2003), 315–325; esp. 316: “Ercole de’ Fedeli, variamente ricordato nei documenti di corte ma esclusivamente in relazione a lavori d’oreficeria minuta.” 12. Pini, “Il potere dell’Arte.” 13. Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 70–76, 83–85. 14. On Bologna’s reputation as a major center for the production of ecclesiastical wares, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 10, 166–167. As already noted, Salomone’s m ­ other, Ricca, was acquainted with the parish priest of the cappella of San Bartolomeo in Bologna, who was pre­sent while she dictated



NOTES TO PAGES 123–125

her testament in 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). 15. Shatzmiller, Cultural Exchange, 22–44. 16. Mordechai Narkiss, “Origins of the Spice Box,” Journal of Jewish Art 8 (1981): 28–41; esp. 39–41. 17. On ­t hese goldsmiths, see Venturi, “Le arti minori a Ferrara nella fine del secolo XV,” 453; Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 114, 380, 386. 18. On the worldly incentives offered to converts from the 1540s onward, see Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy, 9–10, 19–20; Piet Van Boxel, “Dowry and the Conversion of the Jews in Sixteenth-­Century Rome: Comparison between the Church and the Jewish Community,” in Marriage in Italy, 1300–1650, ed. Trevor Dean and Kate J. P. Lowe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 116–127. 19. Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist,” 343. 20. Samuel D. Gruber, “Selective Inclusion: Integration and Isolation of Jews in Medieval Italy,” in Framing Jewish Culture: Bound­aries and Repre­sen­ta­tions, ed. Simon J. Bronner (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004), 97–123; esp. 118–119. See also Kenneth Stow, “The Pitfalls of Writing Papal Documentary History: Simonsohn’s Apostolic See and the Jews,” Jewish Quarterly Review 85, nos. 3 / 4 (January–­April 1995): 397–412; esp. 403–404; Stow, Anna and Tranquillo, 70, 169. 21. Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 70; Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua, 275–276. For southern Italy, see Shatzmiller, Cultural Exchange, 151. 22. Kenneth Stow, “­Favor et odium fidei: Conversion Invitis Parentibus in Historical Perspective,” in Ebraismo e cristianesimo in Italia, ed. Baraldi, Herzig, and Zarri, 55–86; esp. 65–66. 23. Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art,” 123. 24. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of January 21, 1494 (ASMn, AG, busta 2991, lib. 4, c. 20): “Maestro Hercule qual era Judeo.” The letter is cited in Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 46. 25. His term of office lasted from 1485 ­u ntil 1502; see Guido Guerzoni, “Este courtiers, 1457–1628,” https://­w ww​.­a cademia​.­edu​/­2925252​/­E ste​ _­Courtiers​_­1457​-­1628 (accessed December 7, 2017); Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 132, 228. 26. Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 250. Ziliolo was in charge of the office of the Wardrobe (Guardaroba) at Ercole d’Este’s court but was not a practicing goldsmith (as suggested in Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 163, 182, 185, 189). Isabella merely relied on him as an agent, who acquired objects created for her by other goldsmiths. 27. This remained a common feature in the lives of Italian converts throughout the early modern era (Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 132).

317

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NOTES TO PAGES 125–127

28. Di Leone Leoni, “Gli ebrei sefarditi a Ferrara,” 408–412; Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 1:27–28. 29. Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 26. Duke Ercole ordered their banishment in July 1493, but they w ­ ere l­ ater allowed to return to Ferrara (Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 130; Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 1:31). 30. Venturi, “Le arti minori a Ferrara nella fine del secolo XV,” 453. On Spanish Jewish goldsmiths in Rome during ­those years, see Esposito, “Gli ebrei a Roma,” 824. 31. Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 2:613. See also Muzzarelli, “Ferrara, ovvero un porto placido,” 244. 32. Some of the Spanish Jewish exiles heeded to this pressure and w ­ ere baptized in Ferrara following Fra Mariano da Genazzano’s Lent sermons in 1494 (Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 135). 33. F. R. Salter, “The Jews in Fifteenth-­Century Florence and Savonarola’s Establishment of a Mons Pietatis,” Cambridge Historical Journal 5, no.  2 (1936): 193–211; Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 167. 34. On Manuele Norsa’s ties with Salomone da Sesso, see chapter 3. Their contacts ­a fter Salomone’s conversion are documented in a notarial act of March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc. 76v–77r), discussed in Chapter 12. 35. See Michele Luzzati, “La circolazione di uomini, donne e capitali ebraici nell’Italia del Quattrocento: Un esempio toscano-­cremonese,” in Gli ebrei a Cremona: Storia di una comunità fra Medioevo e Rinascimento, ed. Giovanni Magnoli (Florence: Giuntina, 2002), 33–50; esp. 48–50; Luzzati, “Again on the Mobility of Italian Jews,” 105–106. 36. The notarial documents attesting to Master Ercole’s demands ­were first noted in Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 165–168. 37. Notarial document of December 18, 1494, drafted by the notary Ser Francesco di Ottaviano da Arezzo (ASFi, Notarile antecosimiano, 15785), c. 129 v : “constare maxime in quibusdam vachettis sive libris ebraice manu scriptis et maxime in quodam libro vocato Specchietto.” The reference to the vacchette and specifically to the Specchietto is reiterated in the document redacted by the same notary on December 24, 1494 (ASFi, Notarile antecosimiano, 15785), c. 134v. 38. ASFi, Notarile antecosimiano, 15785, c. 129v: “et nunc Salamone eius filio unico naturali tunc ebreo hodie autem cristiano e vocato Hercule, ipsius Melis herede universali.” 39. See Stow, Catholic Thought, 180–183; Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 133. 40. Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 165–167. On Lazzaro, see Veronese, Una famiglia di banchieri ebrei.



NOTES TO PAGES 127–129

41. Lazzaro is mentioned in Ricca’s testament of September 15, 1485 (ASBo, Fondo notarile, serie Curialti Matteo di Bologna, filza 8, c. 61). 42. Stefano Dall’Aglio, Savonarola and Savonarolism, trans. John Gagné (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Re­nais­sance Studies, 2010), 13–21; Donald Weinstein, Savonarola: The Rise and Fall of a Re­nais­sance Prophet (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), 84; Ruderman, The World of a Re­ nais­sance Jew, 46. 43. Carol Bresnahan Menning, Charity and State in Late Re­nais­sance Italy: The Monte di Pietà of Florence (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), 38– 63; Michele Luzzati and Cristina Galasso, “Primi appunti su Girolamo Savonarola e gli ebrei dello Stato Fiorentino,” in Studi savonaroliani: Verso il quinto centenario, ed. Gian Carlo Garfagnini (Florence: SISMEL, 1996), 35–40. 44. On manuscript books as sureties for loans, see Kelly Wray, Communities and Crisis, 84; Jerry  H. Bentley, Politics and Culture in Re­nais­sance Naples (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1987), 65–66; Shatzmiller, Cultural Exchange, 22–30. 45. Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 27–31; Giulio Busi, L’enigma dell’ebraico nel Rinascimento (Turin: Nino Aragno Editore, 2007), 73–100. 46. Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, “La coltura e le relazioni letterarie d’Isabella d’Este ed Elisabetta Gonzaga,” part I, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 33 (1899): 1–62; esp. 26–27; Busi, L’enigma dell’ebraico, 100– 106; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 360. 47. Francesco Gonzaga’s ­orders to “Maestro Herculi Aurifici Ferrariensi,” drafted by Antimaco on February 18, 1495 (ASMn, AG, 2906, lib. 150, c. 72v): “Maestro Hercule havendo nui informatione che le imputatione le quale hai poste et facte contra questi hebrei qui sono false et iniquie a fine de damnigiarli et farli male.” 48. Francesco Gonzaga’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 17, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 139, c. 61v). 49. Stow, “A Tale of Uncertainties,” 258–259; Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 244–245. See also Moshe Sluhovsky, “Recidivist Converts in Early Modern Eu­rope,” in Dissimulation and Deceit in Early Modern Eu­rope, ed. Miriam Eliav-­Feldon and Tamar Herzig (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 94–109; esp. 95. 50. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 67–71. 51. Francesco Gonzaga’s ­orders to Master Ercole of February 18, 1495 (ASMn, AG, 2906, lib. 150, c. 72v). The marquis specifically refers to Master Ercole’s accusations against “­t hese Jews h ­ ere” (questi hebrei qui), indicating that he was not merely attacking Jews ­because he was an overzealous neophyte, as suggested in Antonio Bertolotti, Le arti minori alla corte di Mantova nei secoli XV, XVI e XVII: Ricerche storiche negli Archivi Mantovani (Milan: Arnaldo Forni, 1889), 32, 238. Rather, Francesco’s instructions point to the

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goldsmith’s targeting of specific Jews, and to the marquis’s siding with the Mantuan Jews, against what he refers to as Master Ercole’s slanders that ­were aimed at harming them. 52. Francesco Gonzaga’s ­orders to Master Ercole of February 18, 1495 (ASMn, AG, 2906, lib. 150, c. 72v): “te avisamo ch’l salvo conducto quale habiamo concesso a te, Zohan Baptista, Ipolito et a Leone volemo ch’ sia casso et nullo et cossì per questa nostra lo cancellamo et annullamo. . . . ​Essendone moleste le tue cativita et ribaldarie, et s’el ne accaderà la opportunitate te ne faremo demonstratione.” 53. Bertolotti, Le arti minori, 63, and see Chapter 17. 54. Francesco Gonzaga’s long-­standing backing of Mantua’s Jews did not prevent him from marking the Jewish banker Daniele Norsa as a scapegoat shortly ­a fter Master Ercole’s banishment from his domain, as part of the attempt to quell social unrest and stabilize his own authority. See Katz, “Painting and the Politics of Persecution,” 475–495; Molly Bourne, “Mantegna’s Madonna della Vittoria and the Rewriting of Gonzaga History,” in Jonathan K. Nelson and Richard J. Zeckhauser, The Patron’s Payoff: Con­spic­ u­ous Commissions in Italian Re­nais­sance Art (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2008), 167–184; esp. 173–174. C H A P T E R T W E L V E  ​ ​C E S A R E B O R G I A ’ S “ Q U E E N O F S W O R D S ”







1. On the Banco della Ripa, see Graziani Secchieri, “Ebrei italiani, askenaziti e sefarditi a Ferrara,” 172–174. 2. Notarial document of March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc. 76v–77r). 3. Notarial document of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 4. Notarial document of March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc. 76v–77r). According to this document, Norsa had initially kept a sum of 200 florins, of which the goldsmith already withdrew 90 florins prior to receiving the remaining 110. The original sum that Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio owed Salomone, for his sons’ use, was 300 ducats, whose value was considerably higher than 200 florins (see Spufford, Money and Its Use in Medieval Eu­rope, 322). The remaining sum may have been deposited elsewhere or withdrawn immediately ­after March 15, 1490, and thus disregarded in Codegori’s notarial act of 1497. 5. Notarial act drafted by Bartolomeo Codegori on March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc. 76v–77r): “Magister Hercules de Sesso filius quondam Mellis aurifex illustrissimi domini nostri Ducis olim hebreus.”



NOTES TO PAGES 131–133

Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara, 691, cites the designation of Master Ercole as Duke Ercole’s goldsmith (“Hercules de Sesso filius q. Mellis [sic] aurifex illustrissimi domini nostri Ducis”) but omits the allusion to his Jewish origins that appears in the original document. 6. Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491, signed “Salamon Aurifex Illustrissime Domine Ducisse Ferrarie” (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233). 7. See Master Ercole’s letters to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187), signed “Hercules aurifex Illustrissimi domini ducis Ferrarie” (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187); of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334), signed “Hercules orevexe”; of May 14, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 300), signed “Hercules Aurifex Illustrissime Ducisse Ferrarie”; of July 15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301), signed “Hercules auriffice della duchessa.” 8. See Mark Wischnitzer, A History of Jewish Crafts and Guilds (New York: Jonathan David, 1965), 144; Daniel Jütte, The Age of Secrecy: Jews, Christians, and the Economy of Secrets, 1400–1800, trans. Jeremiah Riemer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015), 71. 9. Stuard, Gilding the Market, 5–6, 29, 51, 67, 164. 10. Guy Francis Laking, A Rec­ord of Eu­ro­pean Armour and Arms through Seven Centuries (London: G. Bell and Sons, 1920), 65–80. 11. Lionello G. Boccia and Eduardo T. Coelho, Armi bianche italiane (Milan: Bramante, 1975), 9–30. 12. Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 202–209. See also Roth, The History of the Jews of Italy, 199. 13. See Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131–132. 14. Gabriele D’Annunzio, Forse che sì, forse che no (Milan: Treves, 1910), 54; and see Nadia Armini, “Il Rinascimento nell’opera di Gabriele D’Annunzio” (PhD diss., Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza,” 2005), 18, 97–99. 15. Paolo Picca, Ercole de’ Fedeli e la regina delle spade (Milan: n.p., 1918). 16. Claude Blair, “Cesare Borgia’s Sword-­Scabbard,” Victoria and Albert Museum Bulletin 2, no. 4 (1966): 125–136; esp. 134. 17. Boccia and Coelho, Armi bianche italiane, 351, 354, 360, 362; Le armi degli Estensi: La collezione di Konopiště, xxvi, xxviii, 3; Jütte, The Age of Secrecy, 71. 18. See David Chambers, “Short Sword (So-­Called Cinquedea) of Marquis Francesco Gonzaga,” in Splendours of the Gonzaga: Cata­logue, ed. David Chambers and Jane Martineau (London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 1981), 142. 19. Whereas the goldsmith’s name comes up in Francesco Gonzaga’s correspondence prior to his baptism, as well as in the dispatch of February 18, 1495, I am not aware of documentary evidence attesting to works that the marquis commissioned from him a­ fter August 1491. This silence sharply

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20. 21.

22.

23. 24. 25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30. 31. 32.

contrasts with the wealth of sources attesting to the numerous pieces that Master Ercole produced for Isabella d’Este in 1493–1521. Scalini, “Appunti per lo studio delle armerie estensi,” 316. ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121, cc. 7v–8r ; Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 128); and see Chapters 18 and 19. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 360): “voglio dire questo ch’io non credo mai in questa cità fusse facta così gentile et elegante cosa.” Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r). Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131. Mario Scalini, Armi e potere nell’Europa del Rinascimento (Milan: Silvana, 2018), 221. See also Gregori, In the Light of Apollo, 401–402; Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” 427–445; Carbonelli Buades, “Cèsar Borja i l’art,” 331; Marco Nonato, “Ercole dei Fedeli: Gioielliere e armaiolo: La ‘cinquedea,’ ” La pianura 3 (2014) : 74–78. John T. Scott and Vickie B. ­Sullivan, “Patricide and the Plot of the Prince: Cesare Borgia and Machiavelli’s Italy,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 88, no. 4 (December 1994): 887–900. Learco Andalò, “Cesare: Il volto del potere,” in I Borgia: Cata­logo della mostra, Roma, Fondazione Memmo 3 ottobre 2002–23 febbraio 2003, ed. Carla Alfano and Felipe Vicente Garín Llombart (Milan: Electa, 2002), 181–185. Elizabeth Bemis, “Crossing the Rubicon in Re­n ais­sance Fashion: A Re-­ dating of the Engravings on the Sword of Cesare Borgia,” Athanor 30 (2012): 41–45; Bemis, “At the Court of the Prince: The Patronage and Art Historical Legacy of Cesare Borgia, 1492–1503” (PhD diss., University of Florida, 2015), 143. The vast correspondence concerning Master Ercole’s execution of the maniglie for Isabella d’Este in 1504 (discussed in Chapter 15) makes this clear; see especially Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella of October 10, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 181); Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187); and Isabella’s letter to the goldsmith of October 18, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 41r). On May 12, 1511, Bernardino de’ Prosperi reported to the marchesa specifically on Master Ercole’s enameling of the tondi she had commissioned from him (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 125v). ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121, c. 8r. Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” 437–442; Carbonelli Buades, “Cèsar Borja i l’art,” 331–332. Margaret Ann Zaho, Imago Triumphalis: The Function and Significance of Triumphal Imagery for Italian Re­nais­sance Rulers (New York: Peter Lang, 2004), 121–123; Bourne, “The Art of Diplomacy,” 162–163.



NOTES TO PAGES 135–136

33. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334): “Etiam prego Vostra Signoria se digni mostrarli a M. Andrea Mantiegno.” 34. On Mantegna’s ties with them, see Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 93–95, 98; Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 191. 35. Andalò, “Cesare: Il volto del potere,” 182. See also Bemis, “Crossing the Rubicon in Re­nais­sance Fashion,” 42; Bemis, “At the Court of the Prince,” 147, 253–256, 399. For the possibility that Master Ercole worked on the “Queen of Swords” in conjunction with sword engraver Angelino di Domenico de Sutri in Rome, see Cyril G. E. Bunt, The Goldsmiths of Italy: Some Account of Their Guilds, Statutes, and Work. Compiled from the Published Papers, Notes, and Other Material Collected by the Late Sidney J. A. Churchill, M.V.O (London: Martin Hopkinson, 1926), 20–21; Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 306. 36. Wesche, “Lysippus Unveiled,” 4–13; Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, esp. 108–121, 139; Kathleen Wren Christian, “Antiquities,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Italian Re­nais­sance, ed. Wyatt, 40–57; esp. 46; Stephen J. Campbell, “Antico and Mantegna: Humanist Art and the Fortune of the Art Object,” in Antico: The Golden Age of Re­nais­sance Bronzes, ed. Eleonora Luciano in collaboration with Denise Allen and Claudia Kryza-­ Gersch (Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 2011), 27–44; Leah R. Clark, “Collecting, Exchange, and Sociability in the Re­nais­sance Studiolo,” Journal of the History of Collections 25, no. 2 (2013): 171–184; esp. 181. 37. Boccia and Coelho, Armi bianche italiane, 3. 38. A Christian motto adorns one of the swords that have been attributed to Master Ercole. This cinquedea, now at the Stibbert Museum in Florence (cata­log no. 3593) is engraved with the verse “Iexus [sic] auten [sic] transiens per medium illorum ibat,” which is borrowed from Luke 4:30 and was often inscribed on protection charms as well as on bladed weapons in the early modern era. On this cinquedea, whose dating remains unknown, see Lionello Giorgio Boccia, ed., Il Museo Stibbert a Firenze, vol. 3, L’armeria europea (Milan: Electa, 1975), 108; Enrico Colle and Riccardo Franci, eds., Il sogno e la gloria: L’armeria di Frederick Stibbert attraverso i suoi capolavori (Signa: Masso delle Fate, 2015), 90. For the motto’s uses, see Chiara Benati, “Painted Eyes, Magical Sieves and Carved Runes: Charms for Catching and Punishing Thieves in the Medieval and Early Modern Germanic Tradition,” in Magic and Magicians in the ­Middle Ages and the Early Modern Time: The Occult in Pre-­modern Sciences, Medicine, Lit­er­a­ture, Religion, and Astrology, ed. Albrecht Classen (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2017), 149–218; esp. 153. 39. Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131; Gregori, In the Light of Apollo, 402; Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist,” 371. 40. On Simele, who assumed the name Gian Giacomo de’ Fedeli, see Pier Cesare Ioly Zorattini, ed., Pro­cessi del S. Uffizio di Venezia contro ebrei e giudaiz-

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zanti (Florence: Olschki, 1980), 1:55; Ioly Zorattini, I nomi degli altri, 176; Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 102–103, 124, 280–281, 307–309. 41. Janice Shell, “Fedeli (de’), famiglia,” in Dizionario della Chiesa ambrosiana, ed. Angelo Majo (Milan: NED, 1990), 2:1193–1195; Luca Tosi, “Il perduto polittico desiano di Stefano de’ Fedeli: Vicende e ipotesi,” Arte lombarda 150, no. 2 (2007): 103–108. 42. Master Ercole noted that his older son was working in his workshop, and expressed his desire to see his other son follow in his footsteps in his missive to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187). 43. Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131–132; Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” 439–440. 44. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 82. 45. Boccia and Coelho, Armi bianche italiane, 354; Gregori, In the Light of Apollo, 401–402. Trivulzio’s sword is kept at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vi­ &lv​ enna (A 455); see https://­w ww​.­khm​.­at​/­objektdb​/­detail​/­372851​/­​?­offset​=1 =­list&cHash​=­e8ed51cc159ccc4f2320aeaddba44e45 (accessed December 6, 2017). 46. Monica Azzolini, The Duke and the Stars: Astrology and Politics in Re­nais­sance Milan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 159–161, 210. On Trivulzio, see Letizia Arcangeli, “Gian Giacomo Trivulzio marchese di Vigevano e il governo francese nello stato di Milano,” in Arcangeli, Gentiluomini di Lombardia: Ricerche sull’aristocrazia padana nel Rinascimento (Milan: Unicopli, 2003), 3–70. 47. Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, 141, 221. 48. Expensive gifts of this kind w ­ ere used to oil diplomatic machinery during the Italian Wars; see Mary Hollings­worth, Patronage in Sixteenth ­Century Italy (London: John Murray, 1996), 215. Not only Duke Ercole but also his son Alfonso occasionally gave gold and silver works created by renowned goldsmiths as gifts, in the pursuit of pro-­French po­liti­cal agenda (Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 208). 49. Charles Robertson, “Trivulzio, Gian Giacomo,” Grove Art Online: Oxford Art Online, http://­w ww​.­oxfordartonline​.­com​/­subscriber​/­a rticle​/­grove​/­a rt​ /­T086243 (accessed December 6, 2017). 50. On this cinquedea, see Le armi degli Estensi: La collezione di Konopiště, xxvi, 3, cata­log entry II (D 242). 51. Yriarte incorrectly speculates that this ­daughter’s baptismal name was El­ istake repeated in Gruyer, eonora (Autour des Borgia, 204–205, 208), a m L’art ferrarais, 1:573, and Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia, 351, but which Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29) clearly disproves, b ­ ecause it refers to Lucrezia Borgia’s damsel as “Anna di Maestro Hercule.”



NOTES TO PAGES 139–140

C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N  ​ ​ A N N A

1. Michael Mallett, The Borgias: The Rise and Fall of a Re­nais­sance Dynasty (London: The Bodley Head, 1969), 190–191. 2. Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 382–415; Laura Laureati, “Da Borgia a Este: Due vite in quarant’anni,” in Lucrezia Borgia: Ferrara, Palazzo Bonacossi, 5 ottobre–15 dicembre 2002, ed. Laura Laureati (Ferrara: Sate, 2002), 21–71; esp. 21–45. 3. I consulted the original manuscript in ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I, fasc. 8, “1502. Lista della famiglia destinata dal Duca di Ferrara a Lucrezia Borgia”: “Lista de le donzelle deputate per Il Signore Duca nostro ala predetta Illu. Madonna, et che sono ferrarese.” 4. ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I, fasc. 8: “La figliola che fu d’Hercule pi orevese già hebreo.” Although a girl’s designation as “la figliola che fu” would seem to imply that her f­ ather was already dead, this could not have been the case h ­ ere, since only one formerly Jewish goldsmith, whose name was indeed Master Ercole, is known to have been active in Ferrara, and he was certainly still alive in 1502. Rather, the “fu” must have initially been intended to allude to the girl’s own former status as a Jewess (“che fu hebrea”)—­the way the other baptized Jewish damsel on this list was identified as “Violante che già fu hebrea”—­with the scribe then deciding to designate only her f­ ather as a convert. 5. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 338: “La fiola de Hercule orevexe, già hebreo.” 6. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29): “Anna di Maestro Hercule.” 7. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 337: “Donzelle tolte novamente per il signore duca ferrarexe, che non passavano anni 18 niuna.” 8. Caterina had in any case already entered the tertiaries’ h ­ ouse of Santa Caterina da Siena (see Chapter 14). 9. Although we do not know the year of Anna’s birth, she must have been born prior to her parents’ conversion—­a nd so, like Violante, was a former Jew herself—­because Lucrezia’s damsels ­were generally handpicked during their early teens, and we know that only four years l­ ater Anna was already deemed suitable for marriage. Anna’s name, which honored Anna Sforza, indicates that she had been born a Jew and was baptized as an infant in 1491 (see Chapter 9). In light of the age limit for Lucrezia’s prospective damsels, then, we may deduce that Anna was born between 1484 and 1491 and that in 1502 she was older than eleven but younger than eigh­teen. 10. ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I, fasc. 8, “Lista della famiglia destinata dal Duca di Ferrara a Lucrezia Borgia”: “La figliola Violante che già fu hebrea.” Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 338, lists this damsel solely as “La Violante, già hebrea.”

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11. Guido Guerzoni, “ ‘Familia,’ ‘corte,’ ‘casa’: The Este Case in [the] Fifteenth–­ Sixteenth ­Century,” in La cour de Bourgogne et l’Eu­rope: Le rayonnement et les limites d’un modèle culturel, ed. Werner Paravicini with Torsten Hiltmann and Frank Viltart (Stuttgart: Thorbecke, 2013), 515–541; esp. 535–536. 12. Sarah Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love, and Death in Re­nais­sance Italy (London: Penguin, 2004), 165–168. 13. On “il Barone,” Carlo Bonvesin, see Chapter 15. 14. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 170–171. 15. In a letter of June 10, 1497, to her former humanist tutor Battista Guarino, Isabella d’Este apologized for turning down his request to receive his ­d aughter as her damsel, noting the economic benefits that such an arrangement could carry for the girl’s ­father and the corresponding financial burden that it entailed for herself (Isabella d’Este, 111). 16. Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 251. For damsels at the Ferrarese court in the fifteenth ­century, see Serena Spanò Martinelli and Irene Graziani, “Caterina de’ Vigri between Manuscript and Print: Text, Image, and Gender,” in The Saint between Manuscript and Print, ed. Frazier, 351–378; esp. 352. 17. See Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 159, 163, 252– 253, 274–275, 521, 524. 18. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of February 8, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 11): “ogni dì la Illustrissima Duchessa ne marida qualchuna delle sue.” On January 6, 1506, Prosperi reported the wedding of Federico Maffei’s d ­ aughter and the betrothal of Violante, the former Jew (c. 3). 19. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). 20. On Eleonora de’ Prosperi, see Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 259, 364–365. 21. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January  8, 1502 (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 241). Prosperi admitted that he did not remember who one of the girls on Ercole’s list was, yet it would have been unlikely for this forgotten girl to have actually been the d ­ aughter of a high-­profile neophyte, whose conversion ceremony Prosperi had reported in ­g reat detail back in 1491, and from whom Isabella continued to commission jewelry (occasionally involving Prosperi in the affair) long ­a fter his banishment from Mantua in 1495. 22. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January 27, 1502 (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 250). Prosperi was still awaiting the complete list of Lucrezia’s courtiers who w ­ ere to be sent back to Rome and replaced by local staff on February 26, 1502, as noted in his letter to Isabella of that day (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 255).



NOTES TO PAGES 142–144

23. Bernardino de’ Prosperi informed Isabella d’Este of the wedding of Lucrezia Borgia’s damsel “La Ziliola” (girl of the Ziliolo f­ amily) in his letter of September 7, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 450). Since “La Ziliola” was among the last donzelle whom Lucrezia married off in 1507, it seems likely that she was accepted as her damsel ­later than the girls included in the finalized list of 1502. 24. ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, sottofasc. 2051-­I I, fasc. 8, and Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January 8, 1502 (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 241). 25. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 177–179. 26. ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 400, 2051-­II, fasc. 7, c. 3: “Alonso orifice.” 27. Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307; Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131–132. 28. Elena Bonatti, “Prima carta dell’inventario delle gioie di Lucrezia Borgia,” in Lucrezia Borgia, ed. Laureati, 192; Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­s ance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 77n20; and see Chapters 19 and 20. 29. Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 334n13. 30. Anna’s three younger ­sisters ­were still unmarried in 1521, whereas her older s­ ister died as a professed nun in 1506 (see Chapters 14 and 20). 31. Carolyn James, “­Women and Diplomacy in Re­nais­sance Italy,” in ­Women, Diplomacy and International Politics since 1500, ed. Glenda Sluga and Carolyn James (London: Routledge, 2016), 13–29. 32. James, 23–24. See also Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 179, for Isabella d’Este’s deployment of her donzelle as diplomatic weapons. For the broader Eu­ro­pean context, see Birgit Houben and Nadine Akkerman, eds., The Politics of Female House­holds: Ladies-­in-­Waiting across Early Modern Eu­ rope (Leiden: Brill, 2014). 33. On the po­l iti­c al implications of the ser­v ice of ladies-­in-­waiting at the palace of a princely ruler’s consort, see Birgit Houben and Nadine Akkerman, “Introduction,” in The Politics of Female House­holds, ed. Houben and Akkerman, 1–27. 34. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of November 9, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 455). Liona, Bonaventura de’ Mosto’s d ­ aughter who l­ ater entered the convent of Santa Caterina da Siena in Ferrara, is mentioned in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Lucrezia Borgia of April 6, 1513 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 30, c. 73); Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 25v). See also Gabriella Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia: Le lettere inedite del confessore (Rome: Roma nel Rinascimento, 2006), 304. 35. For Bernardina, “che era giudea,” see Guido Guerzoni, “Este courtiers, 1457–1628,” https://­w ww​.­a cademia ​.­edu​/­2925252​/­Este ​_­Courtiers ​_­1457​ -­1628 (accessed December 7, 2017). The names of the d ­ aughter of Salomone / Ercole, of Violante the baptized Jewess, or of any other Ferrarese female attendants who served Lucrezia Borgia do not appear on this list,

327

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NOTES TO PAGES 144–147

36. 37.

38.

39.

which includes only the donzelle who had been members of her ­house­hold in Rome. On Giacomo, see Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 87. Ariel Toaff, “Alessandro VI, Inquisizione, ebrei e marrani: Un pontefice a Roma dinanzi all’espulsione del 1492,” in L’identità dissimulata: Giudaizzanti iberici nell’Europa Cristiana dell’età moderna, ed. Pier Cesare Ioly Zorattini (Florence: Olschki, 2000), 15–25. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). For l­ ater cases of aristocratic Italian w ­ omen who ­adopted a similar attitude ­toward converts, see Segre, “Neophytes during the Italian Counter-­R eformation,” 134; Tamar Herzig, “The H ­ azards of Conversion: Nuns, Jews, and Demons in Late Re­n ais­sance Italy,” Church History 85, no. 3 (September 2016): 468–501. On the foundation of Santa Caterina da Siena, see Tamar Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women: Visions and Reform in Re­nais­sance Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 86–89. C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N  ​ ​­ S I S T E R T H E O D O R A



1. Zarri, “Pietà e profezia alle corti padane,” 201–214; E. Ann M ­ atter, “Prophetic Patronage as Repression: Lucia Brocadelli da Narni and Ercole d’Este,” in Christendom and Its Discontents: Exclusion, Persecution and Rebellion, 1000–1500, ed. Scott L. Waugh and Peter D. Diehl (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 168–176; Tamar Herzig, “The Rise and Fall of a Savonarolan Visionary: Lucia Brocadelli’s Contribution to the Piagnone Movement,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte 95 (2004): 34–60. 2. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 371–372. 3. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 6v); Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 401–405. 4. Luigi Alberto Gandini, “Lucrezia Borgia nell’imminenza delle sue nozze con Alfonso d’Este,” Atti e memorie della R. Deputazione di storia patria per le provincie di Romagna, ser. 3, 20 (1902): 285–340; esp. 309. 5. Ercole d’Este’s letter to Lucrezia Borgia of September 28, 1501, published in Gandini, 310–311: “havemoli facto construire uno Bello et amplo monastiero . . . ​siamo tanto desiderosi de questo effecto quanto de cosa che mai havessimo a core, perché havendo facto fabricare dicto monastiero desideramo molto che se gli dia optimo principio cum le predicte sore.” 6. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v): “Sor Theodora, primo ditta Katerina, de anni 22, fiola de Maestro Hercules quondam hebreo, e lei quondam hebrea fu recevuta al’abito de le sorelle da officio a dì 5 de agosto 1501.” 7. See Gabriella Zarri, “La vita religiosa tra Rinascimento e Controriforma. Sponsa Christi: Nozze mistiche e professione monastica,” in Monaca, moglie,



NOTES TO PAGES 147–148

serva, cortigiana: Vita e immagine delle donne tra Rinascimento e Controriforma, ed. Sara  F. Matthews-­Grieco in collaboration with Sabina Brevaglieri (Florence: Morgan Edizioni, 2001), 102–151; esp. 126–139; Jonathan E. Glixon, Mirrors of Heaven or Worldly Theaters? Venetian Nunneries and Their ­Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 118–132. 8. Most religious ­women in Re­nais­sance Italy ­were given a new name upon vestition. See K. J. P. Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles and Convent Culture in Re­nais­ sance and Counter-­R eformation Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 65. On the significance that both individual w ­ omen and their communities ascribed to receiving a new name, see Sharon T. Strocchia, “Naming a Nun: Spiritual Exemplars and Corporate Identity in Florentine Convents, 1450–1530,” in Society and Individual in Re­nais­sance Florence, ed. William J. Connell (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 223–237. 9. As Bernardino de’ Prosperi reported in his letter to Isabella d’Este of July 3, 1502 (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 279). 10. Bartolomeo Goggio, Istrumento di donazione, Rog. Bartolomeo Goggio (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 30, c. 9 v): “sorori Theodore magistri Herculis aurificis.” On Goggio, see Werner L. Gundersheimer, “Bartolommeo Goggio: A Feminist in Re­n ais­sance Ferrara,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 33, no.  2 (Summer 1980): 175–200. 11. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 12. The ratio of converse to sorelle da officio varied from one monastic community to another. On the distinction between t­ hese classes, see Sharon T. Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries in Re­nais­sance Florence (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009), 4–5, 48, 81; Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 108; ­ usic, Magic, Art, and Arson in Craig A. Monson, Nuns Behaving Badly: Tales of M the Convents of Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010), 17. 13. ­These three w ­ ere ­Sister Bonifacia (1471–1546), ­Sister Petronilla (1483– 1554), and S ­ ister Bernardina (1487–1509). The vestition and profession of all six converse are recorded in the Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fols. 2r–14v). S ­ ister Maria Caterina entered the convent in 1503 at age ten, and in 1505 her name was changed to ­Sister Liberata. 14. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fols. 2r–14v). The tertiaries who joined the community in 1499–1502 did not include members of noble Ferrarese families such as the Costabili and Trotti, but in 1503 nuns from t­ hese families transferred to Santa Caterina da Siena from the more established convent of Santa Caterina Martire (fol. 16). On the ensuing strife in Santa Caterina da Siena following the arrival of nuns of higher social background, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 127–140. 15. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 2v). On Sigismondo d’Este’s court, which consisted of ninety salaried employees,

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NOTES TO PAGES 148–150

see Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 61, 63. 16. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 89–91. 17. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 3v); and see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, esp. 82–85, 97–111. 18. Duke Ercole sponsored the monachization of all the ­women who entered Santa Caterina da Siena on August 5, 1501, as noted in the Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 19. Judith C. Brown, “Everyday Life, Longevity, and Nuns in Early Modern Florence,” in Re­nais­sance Culture and the Everyday, ed. Patricia Fumerton and Simon Hunt (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 115–138; esp. 120–121; Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 29–31. For Ferrara, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 89–91, 103–105. 20. Notarial document of December 17, 1489 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Iacobo Vincenzi, matr. 177, pacco 10, prot. 1489). 21. On the importance of substantial dowries for securing honorable marriages in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, see Diane Ghirardo, “­Women and Space in a Re­nais­sance Italian City,” in InterSections: Architectural Histories and Critical Theories, ed. Iain Borden and Jane Rendell (London: Routledge, 2000), 170–200; esp. 175. 22. As noted in the supplication that Master Ercole’s wife, Eleonora, sent Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 23. See Brown, “Everyday Life, Longevity, and Nuns,” 118–119. 24. Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 31, 34. 25. Silvia Evangelisti, Nuns: A History of Convent Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 23. 26. Undated request sent on behalf of the convert Pietro Paolo Syllano to Cardinal Guglielmo Sirleto in the late sixteenth ­century (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Ms. Ottaviano Latino 2452, fol. 126r). In addition to his six d ­ aughters, Syllano was burdened with three sons, as noted in the subsequent undated letter (fol. 127r). Syllano may have been the same man as the banker mentioned in Antonio Bertolotti, Artisti subalpini in Roma nei secoli XV, XVI e XVII (Mantua: Mondovi, 1884), 123. 27. For an early case from 1362, see Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 192. 28. Muzzarelli, “I banchieri ebrei e la città,” 123–124. 29. Veronese, Una famiglia di banchieri ebrei, xv, 35–36, 212–223. 30. Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 269–271; Samuela Marconcini, “The Conversion of Jewish ­Women in Florence (1599–1799),” Zeitsprünge 14, nos. 3 / 4 (2010): 532–548; esp. 542–543; Marina Caffiero, “Le doti della conversione: Ebree e neofite a Roma in età moderna,” Geschichte und Region / Storia e regione 19, no. 1 (2010): 72–91; esp. 82–85, 88; Rothman, Brokering Empire, 133, 137–146; Al Kalak and Pavan, Un’altra



NOTES TO PAGES 150–153

fede, 63. In the mid-­sixteenth c­ entury, the convent of the Santissima Annunziata all’Arco dei Pantani in Rome was established specifically for accepting former Jews who agreed to become nuns: Alessia Lirosi, “Monacare le ebree: Il monastero romano della SS. Annunziata all’Arco dei Pantani: Una ricerca in corso,” Rivista di Storia del Cristianesimo 10, no.  1 (2013): 147–180. 31. See Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 147–148. 32. Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 174. 33. Pardi, 199–200, 259; Mazzi, “Gente a cui si fa notte innanzi sera,” 122–123. 34. Sherwood, “Rebellious Youth and Pliant ­Children,” 183–209. 35. Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 174–175. Scholars have attributed the anti-­Jewish mea­sures that Duke Ercole instituted in 1496—­including the obligation to attend the conversionary sermon—to Savonarola’s influence. See Pesaro, Memorie storiche sulla comunità israelitica ferrarese, 17–18; Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 325; Ruderman, The World of a Re­nais­sance Jew, 27. 36. Stow, Theater of Acculturation, 18, 42. 37. In the French chronicle of St. Denis, for example, the conversion of a Jewish ­family following a host desecration by the ­father ends with his ­d aughter’s monachization (Rubin, Gentile Tales, 43). 38. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 68–95, 97–111. 39. Weinstein, Savonarola, 84; Luzzati and Galasso, “Primi appunti su Girolamo Savonarola e gli ebrei,” 35–40; Bonfil, “An Infant’s Missionary Sermon,” 155–158. 40. Suor Giustina Niccolini, Cronaca delle Murate [1598] (Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence, Ms. II. II. 509, fol. 19 v). This nun may perhaps be identified as the Jewish girl who was baptized on May  22, 1496 (Landucci, Diario fiorentino, 132). 41. Kate Lowe, “Female Strategies for Success in a Male-­Ordered World: The Benedictine Convent of Le Murate in Florence in the Fifteenth and Early Sixteenth ­Century,” Studies in Church History 27 (1990): 209–221; Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 204–205. 42. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 72–74, 97–111. 43. See Tamar Herzig, “Christ Transformed into a Virgin W ­ oman”: Lucia Brocadelli, Heinrich Institoris, and the Defense of the Faith (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2013). 44. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 371–372. 45. Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, 139–140, 151–152, 315–316; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 184–185; Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 13–14. 46. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v), on the same page on which S ­ ister Theodora’s vestition and profession are recorded: “Ne l’anno 1501 el zorno del padre nostro Sancto Domenico

331

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NOTES TO PAGES 153–155

essendo fundato lo monasterio nostro de Sancta Katherina da Siena secundo che è ditto in questo libro a carte [sic] tre, cum grande solemnita fu acompagnata ditta Sor Lucia como le preditte Sore del terzo habito da lei receute che erano 16 cum lei dali padri e frati de li Angeli cum chandele in mano accese al Ditto monasterio, e in quello introducte ad habitar e fu fatta ditta Sor Lucia priora del ditto monasterio.” Additional accounts appear in Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 273: “A dì V de Agosto Suor Lucia, che se dice santa, per cui il duca Hercole ha facto fare [uno monastero] apreso la giesia di frati di Angeli in Ferrara, cum grande pro­cessione intròe in dicto monastero cum alcune sue compagne”; Giovanni Maria Zerbinati, Croniche di Ferrara: Quali comenzano del anno 1500 sino al 1527, ed. Maria Giuseppina Muzzarelli (Ferrara: Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria, 1989), 44; Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 307. Zambotti counted not only the sixteen professed tertiaries but also their prioress, Brocadelli, and the five w ­ omen who w ­ ere about to receive the religious habit on that day, reaching the figure of twenty-­t wo ­sisters. He designated Brocadelli as the “zovene che ha le stigmate de Christo a le mano.” 47. Gandini, “Lucrezia Borgia nell’imminenza delle sue nozze,” 287. 48. On monastic profession as the ideal kind of “intensification conversion,” see Kling, “Conversion to Chris­t ian­ity,” 614–616. 49. A change of name was not prescribed in the constitutions of the Dominican order, yet most of the tertiaries who entered Santa Caterina da Siena in the first years of its existence and who had not previously been members of other religious h ­ ouses received new names upon their vestition. Interestingly, in 1532 the fifteen-­year-­old Caterina Maria, who is identified as the ­d aughter of Bella the Jewess, received the habit of a conversa in this community without changing her name (Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova, ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 29 v). Caterina Maria was, we may presume, a recent convert who had assumed the new name and identity of a Christian upon her baptism not long before joining the convent, and the imposition of a religious name was not necessary to ensure her detachment from her previous self. 50. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). On Fra Benedetto of Mantua, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 132–133, 135–136, 138–141. On S ­ ister Anna, see Gabriella Zarri, “Blessed Lucia of Narni (1476–1544) between ‘Hagiography’ and ‘Autobiography’: Mystical Authorship and the Per­sis­tence of the Manuscript,” in The Saint between Manuscript and Print, ed. Frazier, 421–445; esp. 431. 51. Herzig, “Christ Transformed into a Virgin ­Woman,” 142–144. 52. Brocadelli’s stigmata was noted in the description of the August 5 pro­ cession in Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 307.



NOTES TO PAGES 155–157

53. In pre-­Tridentine Italy, lay spectators ­were allowed to attend vestition ceremonies, which ­were celebrated in the presence of local dignitaries and the novice’s relatives: K. J. P. Lowe, “Secular Brides and Convent Brides: Wedding Ceremonies in Italy during the Re­n ais­sance and Counter-­ Reformation,” in Marriage in Italy, ed. Dean and Lowe, 41–65; esp. 42–44; Zarri, “La vita religiosa tra Rinascimento e Controriforma,” 26. 54. Anabel Thomas, Art and Piety in the Female Religious Communities of Re­nais­ sance Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 6. 55. Although vestition was merely one of the stages in the pro­cess that turned a postulant into the bride of Christ, it was often made to appear as the monastic equivalent of a secular wedding, with the novices dressed as brides (Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 65, 227–230, 258). 56. On the significance of the postulant’s entry into the convent during the vestition ceremony, see Glixon, Mirrors of Heaven, 123–125. 57. See Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 230. 58. Conversely, some baptized Jews who became nuns gained fame for their religious fervor or assumed leading roles within their monastic communities. See Tamar Herzig, “ ‘For the Salvation of This Girl’s Soul’: Nuns as Converters of Jews in Early Modern Italy,” in Gender and Spirituality in the Re­nais­sance: Teaching ­Women’s Religious Writings, 1300–1650, from Eu­rope and the Amer­i­cas, ed. Jane C. Tylus, special issue of Religions 8, no. 11 (2017): 252– 265; esp. 261. 59. Some upper-­class Ferrarese girls, including Bonaventura de’ Mosto’s ­daughter Liona and Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s d ­ aughter Eleonora actually preferred joining convents to married life. Although their position at the courts of reigning consorts would have ensured Liona (Lucrezia Borgia’s damsel) and Eleonora (Isabella d’Este’s donzella) respectable marriages, both girls opted for the monastic vocation. See Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 328–329; Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 129, 304; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 364–368. Isabella d’Este, who normally favored finding matches for her damsels, noted in a letter to Giovanna Boschetta—­whose ­father’s po­liti­cal predicament had ruined her marital prospects—­t hat she should enter a convent, adding that the girl might actually find herself “happier with each passing day, given the many trou­bles of girls who marry and stay in this world” (Isabella d’Este, 276). 60. On the role of ceremonies in rendering monastic life more attractive, see Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 230. 61. Strocchia, “Naming a Nun,” 228–229. 62. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 101–105. 63. As Kate Lowe observes, “names had power and meaning, and nuns knew it,” although the reasons for favoring specific monastic names are often hard to divine (Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 164–165).

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NOTES TO PAGES 157–160

64. This naming pattern was already evident in Dominican convents in the second half of the Quattrocento (Strocchia, “Naming a Nun,” 226–234). 65. Elissa B. Weaver, Convent Theatre in Early Modern Italy: Spiritual Fun and Learning for W ­ omen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 97, 111; and see “The Play of Saint Theodora,” in Antonia Pulci, Florentine Drama for Convent and Festival: Seven Sacred Plays, trans. James Wyatt Cook, ed. James Wyatt Cook and Barbara Collier Cook (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 187–216. Theodora was also a fash­ion­a ble name among members of the Ferrarese court (see Zambotti, Diario Ferrarese, 337; Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 165). 66. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 9 v). 67. Strocchia, “Naming a Nun,” 227; Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 162. 68. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 22r). 69. The two w ­ ere ­Sister Beatrice and ­Sister Stefana (Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova, ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 70. Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 16–19. 71. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fols. 10r, 13r). 72. According to Lowe (Nuns’ Chronicles, 320–321), the categories of objects from Italian convents “that have survived least well are textiles . . . ​a nd lesser decorative artefacts, such as small silver objects from convent sacristies.” 73. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 127–139. 74. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 19r). 75. On the tertiaries who refused to make a renewed profession as nuns, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 140–142. 76. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 77. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 138–139. 78. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 22r). 79. On December 28, 1505, ­Sister Theodora Melegini’s name was changed to ­Sister Diana (Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova, ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 9 v). 80. On the date of profession as determining a nun’s se­niority in her convent’s chapter, see Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 16. Master Ercole’s d ­ aughter was also thirteen years older than Melegini. 81. Maria Bellonci, Lucrezia Borgia (1939; repr., Milan: Mondadori, 1989), 539; Bonatti, “Prima carta dell’inventario delle gioie di Lucrezia Borgia,” 192. 82. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 133–136. 83. Three of Lucrezia’s damsels l­ ater joined Santa Caterina da Siena, and the duchess paid their monastic dowries (Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 129, 304). 84. Despite the Church’s pressure to dissolve the bonds of professed religious ­women to their natal families, sixteenth-­century nuns continued to ben-



NOTES TO PAGES 160–163

efit from the help and protection of well-­connected relatives, especially that of their f­ athers and ­brothers (Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 55). 85. Pardi, Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti, 174. 86. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). ­Sister Theodora was no longer alive when the ­d aughters of Bonaventura de’ Mosto and Antonio Costabili—­t he two men who had interrogated her ­father—­both joined Santa Caterina da Siena, in 1513 and 1514, respectively (fol. 25v). 87. Brown, “Everyday Life, Longevity, and Nuns,” 124–133. 88. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fols. 2r, 3v, 5v). 89. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 90. See Evangelisti, Nuns, 19–23; Monson, Nuns Behaving Badly, 17–18. 91. Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova (ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fols. 29 v, 31). 92. Repertorio generalissimo (ASDF, SCS, busta 6 / 2, u ­ nder “Priore”). For the changes that took place in the convent during ­those years, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 179–180. 93. Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 157–159. 94. Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 178–183. C H A P T E R F I F T E E N  ​ ​ T H E ­F A M I L Y W O R K S H O P

1. ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121 (Libro de recordi de guardaroba, 1495–1509), cc. 8r, 65v. 2. Simone Serafino da Milano, commonly designated solely as Simone da Milano, filled the office of officiale al lignaro (or sopra la legnaia) since 1502: Guerzoni, “Este courtiers, 1457–1628,” https://­w ww​.­a cademia ​.­edu​ /­2925252​/­E ste ​_­Courtiers ​_­1457​-­1628 (accessed December 7, 2017). 3. I thank Dr. Alessio Assonitis for suggesting this option. For the uses of travi, as listed in the Ferrarese ducal registers from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, see Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 253n104, 263n162, 327n140, 335n195, 481–482. 4. Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­n ais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 64. 5. ASMo, CD, AC, Munizione e fabbriche, no. 42, cc. 2v–4r (referring to “Maestro Hercule oreveso già hebreio” on c. 4r). For the Office of Munitions and Construction, see Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 83–85. 6. As court goldsmith, his schedule was dictated by the demands of his principal patron, but he could still perform ser­v ices for other interested parties (see Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 172). 7. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 44–45. For a definition of maniglie, see 44n5. 8. Welch, Art and Society in Italy 1350–1500, 112, 119. 9. Alison Cole, Art of the Italian Re­nais­sance Courts: Virtue and Magnificence (London: Everyman Art Library, 1995), 160–161. On the role of goldsmiths

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in feeding the Re­n ais­sance trend for the public display of wealth, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 180–181. 10. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 5; Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 137; Welch, “Art on the Edge,” 244–261. For the unpre­ce­ dented use of jewelry in Re­nais­sance Eu­rope, which was fueled by the geographic discoveries and the global trade in silver, gold, and gemstones, see Rublack, Dressing Up, 20–21. 11. Cole, Art of the Italian Re­nais­sance Courts, 162–163; McCall, “Brilliant Bodies,” 445–450. 12. Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 258–267. 13. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 18, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 189). 14. Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 250–251. 15. As noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letters to Isabella d’Este of January  8, 1502 (ASMn, AG, busta 1238, c. 241) and September  7, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 450). 16. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letters to Isabella d’Este of May 27 and June 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, cc. 190, 191). On Ziliolo’s long-­standing activity as Isabella’s agent in Ferrara, see Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 38, 45, 46, 73, 74, 86–87, 105. 17. Enrica Guerra, “L’educazione militare del cardinale Ippolito I d’Este,” in Formare alle professioni: La cultura militare tra passato e presente, ed. Monica Ferrari and Filippo Ledda (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2010), 101–115; Lewis Lockwood, “Adrian Willaert and Cardinal Ippolito I d’Este: New Light on Willaert’s Early C ­ areer in Italy, 1515–21,” Early M ­ usic History 5 (1985): 85– 112; esp. 87, 92, 95. 18. Ercole d’Este’s letter to Cardinal Ippolito d’Este of August 19, 1499 (ASMo, ASE, Casa e Stato, busta 69). 19. On the artists employed by Cardinal Ippolito and by subsequent cardinals of the House of Este, see Guido Guerzoni, “Between Rome and Ferrara: The Courtiers of the Este Cardinals in the Cinquecento,” in Art and Identity in Early Modern Rome, ed. Jill Burke and Michael Bury (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2008), 59–77. 20. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of June 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 191): “Sia certo la Signoria Vostra che de solicitudine non mancho ma io ho a fare cum homo che mai non dice il vero.” 21. Isabella d’Este’s letter of July 8, 1504 to Cardinal Ippolito I d’Este, published in Pietro Ferrato, ed., Alcune lettere di principesse di casa Gonzaga cavate per la maggior parte dall’Archivio Storico in Mantova (Imola: Ignazio Galeati e figlio, 1879), 3. Two weeks ­earlier, Ziliolo had reiterated his promise to continue to do all within his power to get the maniglie: Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of June 21, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 192).



NOTES TO PAGES 166–168

22. On Cardinal Ippolito’s worldly pursuits, see Herzig, “Christ Transformed into a Virgin ­Woman,” 172–173. 23. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ippolito d’Este of July 8, 1504, in Ferrato, Alcune lettere di principesse di casa Gonzaga, 3: “se io non li porto adesso, ch’è estate, e che le bracie se portano scoperte quasi che poi non me ne curarò.” 24. Stuard, Gilding the Market, 230. 25. Stephen Kolsky, “Images of Isabella d’Este,” Italian Studies 39 (1984): 47–62; esp. 54; Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 250–253. 26. Welch, “Art on the Edge,” 254. 27. A few days ­later, Isabella thanked her ­brother once again for his efforts in this ­matter. Her letters to Cardinal Ippolito d’Este of July 13 and 19, 1504, are in ASMo, ASE, Cancelleria marchionale poi ducale Estense, Carteggio di Principi e signorie, Italia, Mantova, busta 1196, cc. 260, 261. 28. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 194). 29. Bellonci, Lucrezia Borgia, 538–542. 30. William F. Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia as Patrons of M ­ usic: The Frottola at Mantua and Ferrara,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 38, no. 1 (Spring 1985): 1–33; esp. 4–8; Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­ sance, 259. 31. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 45; Alessandro Luzio, “Isabella d’Este e i Borgia,” Archivio storico lombardo anno 41, serie 5.1 (1914): 673– 753. See also Allyson Burgess Williams, “Rewriting Lucrezia Borgia: Propriety, Magnificence, and Piety in Portraits of a Re­nais­sance Duchess,” in Wives, ­Widows, Mistresses, and Nuns in Early Modern Italy: Making the Invisible Vis­i­ble through Art and Patronage, ed. Katherine A. McIver (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), 77–98; esp. 79–80. 32. On Lucrezia’s ties with Ziliolo, see Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 234, 362–363. 33. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 194): “ala presentia de la Duchessa mi turbai talmente cum questo Maestro che certo poco mancò per respecto di Vostra Signoria non lo facesse ponere nel fondo di una torre.” On the prisons located in the bases of the towers of Ferrara’s Castel Vecchio, see Luigi Napoleone Cittadella, Il Castello di Ferrara: Descrizione storico-­artistica (Ferrara, 1875; repr., Ferrara: Arnaldo Forni, 1981), 27–28; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 97. 34. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letters to Isabella d’Este of August 22 and August 28, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, cc. 194, 196). 35. Since Ercole d’Este’s consort, Eleonora of Aragon, was no longer alive, Lucrezia was commonly referred to as the Duchess of Ferrara even before her husband Alfonso’s official accession to the ducal throne in January 1505.

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NOTES TO PAGES 169–170

36. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 197): “Circa le Maniglie de prefata Signoria Vostra hormai me vergogno scriverni più cosa alcuna, che non mancho di questo tristo busardo ne ho erubescentia. Nondimeno adciò quella habbia notitia in qual termino se ritrovamo gli significo come sonto [sic] andato a casa di Hercule a ritrovarlo in persona, perché mandandoli non se ritrovava, et cum proposito lì andai de farlo condure in pregione . . . ​et giontoli sopra improvisto lo ritrovai cum lavori de la Duchessa, et del Reverendissimo Cardinale molto occupato, et se bene cum grande colera li dixi parole assai iracunde, e minatorie, nondimeno compreso la iusta causa di la tardità sua . . . ​m itigai alquanto la mia iracundia. Et visto in che termini erano dicte maniglie, che erano proxime al fine, et etiam considerata la ellegantia de quelle, me remessi, et de novo volsi promissione certa da lui quando me dovea darle perfecte. La quale promissione non ha potuto esser prima che al fine del sequente proximo mese. Se bene mi ha parso ardua questa dilatione, & ch’io li sia condesceso contra mia voglia; nondimeno visto la singularità del opera non mi è parso per alcun modo levargela di mano, ma più presto exhortare Vostra Excellentia a patientia.” Notwithstanding some minor discrepancies in our transcriptions, my reading of this letter is generally in agreement with Giancarlo Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie: La moda a corte nell’età Gonzagesca (Verona: Linea Quattro, 2012), 160. 37. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of June 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 191). 38. See Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia,” 6–7; Nelson and Zeckhauser, The Patron’s Payoff, 4; Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 250–251. 39. Isabella d’Este did write back to Girolamo Ziliolo, acknowledging her contentment with the beauty of the maniglie, on September 25, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 36v). 40. On Magnanino’s close ties with Alfonso d’Este, who l­ ater appointed him as his ducal secretary, see Ughi, Dizionario storico degli uomini illustri ferraresi, 45–46. Isabella relied on Magnanino for passing on her requests to Alfonso, as well as for information pertaining to her b ­ rother (see Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 114). 41. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167). 42. Girolamo Magnanino’s undated letter of 1504 to Isabella d’Este (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 180). 43. See Chapters 17–19. 44. Henry E. Sigerist, “Historical Background of Industrial and Occupational Diseases,” Bulletin of the New York Acad­emy of Medicine 12 (1936): 597–609; esp. 600–601; Michael Gochfeld, “Chronologic History of Occupational Medicine,” Journal of Occupational and Environmental Medicine 47, no. 2 (Feb-



NOTES TO PAGES 170–172

ruary 2005): 96–114; esp. 101; Michele Augusto Riva, Alessandra Lafranconi, Marco Italo D’Orso, and Giancarlo Cesana, “Lead Poisoning: Historical Aspects of a Paradigmatic Occupational and Environmental Disease,” Safety and Health at Work 3 (2012): 11–16; esp. 12. 45. As Alfonso d’Este noted in his letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 182). 46. Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­sance Ferrara, 142, 218. 47. For the behavioral expectations t­ oward one’s godparents, see Alfani, F ­ athers and Godfathers, 53–61. On the par­tic­u­lar implications of godparenthood relations for baptized Jews in early modern Italy, see Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 266–267; Caffiero, Battesimi forzati, 272–281; Segre, “Il mondo ebraico nel carteggio di Carlo Borromeo,” 196–198, 225. 48. Alfonso d’Este’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 182). 49. As Girolamo Magnanino, who had been pre­sent during Alfonso d’Este’s conversation with Master Ercole, informed Isabella d’Este in his letter of October 10, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 181). 50. Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen, 31–32; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 159–161. On Don Alfonso’s trip to France, see Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 450–452. 51. For the term rosichiero (also known as roggio, rouge clair in French, and rosaclerum in Latin), see Dizionario della lingua italiana (Padua: Tipografia della Minerva, 1829), vol. 6, col. 365. In the sixteenth ­century, Cellini praised the beauty of rosichiero, explaining that it was best used for enameling gold in his Due trattati di Benvenuto Cellini scultore Fiorentino uno dell’oreficeria e l’altro della scultura (Florence: Tartini e Franchi, 1731), 33. 52. Master Ercole’s letters to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187), July 15 and August 10, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, cc. 301, 302). 53. As noted in Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183). 54. Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 28–29; Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 16. 55. Frick, Dressing Re­nais­sance Florence, 50. 56. This was generally true for artists and craftsmen in northern Italy, Christians and Jews alike. See Howard E. Adelman, “The Educational and Literary Activities of Jewish ­Women in Italy during the Renaisance and the Catholic Restoration,” in Shlomo Simonsohn Jubilee Volume, ed. Carpi, 9–23; esp. 16–17; Paul H. D. Kaplan, “Jewish Artists and Images of Black Africans in Re­nais­sance Italy,” in Multicultural Eu­rope and Cultural Exchange in the ­Middle Ages and Re­nais­sance, ed. James P. Helfers (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), 67–90; esp. 67–75. 57. Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 31–34; Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen, 60; Simonsohn, Between Scylla and Charybdis, 427. Limiting the number of work-

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shop apprentices and assistants was aimed both at ensuring a professional training of sufficient quality and at preventing the market being flooded with emerging artists. 58. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183): “Heri sera fui a Casa de Maestro Hercule per vedere le maniglie de Vostra Signoria, gli andai al improviso, & ritrovai che non solamente lui, ma soi figlioli, lavorariano per Vostra Signoria.” 59. See Kaplan “Jewish Artists,” 72–73. Notably, in Bologna guild statutes stipulated that goldsmiths’ wives, ­d aughters, and ­sisters ­were the only ­women allowed to assist them (Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 32–33). See also Frick, Dressing Re­nais­sance Florence, 189, on the female laborers in Florentine goldsmiths’ workshops. 60. On ­t hese secondary tasks, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 156–165; Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 160–161. The vari­ous works produced in Master Ercole’s workshop are noted in Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 44–46. 61. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183): “veramente Vostra Signoria ha ad expectare molto più bella opera al parere mio che quella non pensa.” 62. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183). 63. Jacobs, Defining the Re­nais­sance Virtuosa, 21, 37–38. 64. The absolute grasp of disegno was considered a goldsmith’s foremost talent; many paint­ers and sculptors chose to apprentice in goldsmiths’ workshops precisely b ­ ecause the latter w ­ ere viewed as providing the best training in disegno, whose perfection was a prerequisite for the pursuit of all other arts. See Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 91–94; Smith, “In a Sixteenth-­Century Goldsmith’s Workshop,” 40–41. 65. Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 135–162. 66. As noted in Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183). 67. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187): “Hercules aurifex Illustrissimi domini ducis ferrarie.” On the significance of the names with which Re­nais­sance artists identified themselves see Welch, Art and Society in Italy 1350–1500, 87. 68. Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233): “Salamon Aurifex Illustrissime Domine Ducisse Ferrarie.” 69. For instance, in his designation as “Maestro Hercule oreveso già hebreio” in March 1503 (ASMo, CD, AC, Munizione e fabbriche, no. 42, c. 4r). 70. The Este courtier Carlo Bonvesin (invariably also spelled Bonvicino, Bonvexino, or Bonvesino) delle Carte—on whom Ercole d’Este had conferred noble status and fiscal privileges in 1504—­was commonly known as “il Barone.” See Guerzoni, “ ‘Familia,’ ‘corte,’ ‘casa,’ ” 521; Bellonci, Lucrezia



71.

72. 73.

74. 75.

NOTES TO PAGES 174–175

Borgia, 597. On his correspondence with Isabella d’Este, see Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 43n57. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187): “Vostra Excellentia ali dì pasati me comesse ch’io dovesse forgiare quilli lavoreri, li quali io subito li comenciai et gli ho lavorato bene desiderando grandemente di satisfare a Vostra Excellentia et fare cosa bella che fusse al piacere a quella et non ho cosa più ala mente mia che epsi lavoreri. Ma perché io fu’ stato ocupato in certe altre facende che me è stato necessario a fare in modo che io non ho potuto fornire le vostre, de che ne è informatissimo Messer Hieronymo Ziliolo et Barone si ché dio scia che el defecto non è stato mio ma è stato che ho convenuto servire chi me pole comandare, ma una volta farò intendere a Vostra Excellentia a bocha come è pasata la cosa. Sciapia Vostra Excellentia ch’io non ho potuto fare tanto perché io non ho sono doe mani et mio figlio doe altre che non havemo potuto fare tanto et non semo ache stati indarno. Tamen sia certa Vostra Excellentia che io non li abandonarò dì e nocte che quella serà fornita. Priego ancora Vostra Signoria che me voglia mandare uno pocho di Rosachiero che me impromese pure che el sia bono perché el tristo io ne ho asai et subito che lo haverò lo spromentarò. Ferrante mio figliolo io lo ho messo a lavorare come me dixe Vostra Signoria, immodo che io credo che non me farà vergogna et seguitarà le mie vestigie. A Vostra Signoria me aricomando de la quale sempre fui servidore et sempre serò.” As Girolamo Magnanino noted in a letter to Isabella d’Este of October 15, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 183). Steven Ozment argues, in Three Behaim Boys: Growing Up in Early Modern Germany (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1990), xi: “Historical rec­ ords have revealed much about what ordinary ­people did and occasionally the very words of individuals are quoted or summarized by the lords and masters who exercise dominion over them. What is sadly lacking are the voices of the masses when they are not on a stage set by their betters or interrogated according to a script their betters have written. . . . ​A lthough their actions speak louder than words, they remain unexplained. . . . ​To be confronted by texts without words and by actions without motives understandably frustrates historians.” In his letter, which was addressed to Mantua’s power­f ul coruler, the baptized Jew Ercole certainly did provide an explanation for his actions. Nonetheless, as I argue ­later, his explanation does not reveal what went through his mind any more than the epistles drafted by the faithful emissaries of his aristocratic patron disclose what went through theirs. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 197). Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187).

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NOTES TO PAGES 175–177

76. Girolamo Magnanino’s undated letter to Isabella d’Este of 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 180). 77. Maria Bellonci argues (in Lucrezia Borgia, 539) that Master Ercole placed the blame for the delay in completing the maniglie on the excess of work that he received from Lucrezia alone. However, as the text of his letter makes clear, he did not explic­itly single out Lucrezia. As already noted, Girolamo Ziliolo, in his letter to Isabella d’Este of September 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 197), suggested that the commissions Master Ercole had received both from Lucrezia and from Cardinal Ippolito kept him from focusing on the maniglie. 78. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187). 79. Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 136. 80. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187): “Ferrante mio figliolo . . . ​c redo che non me farà vergogna et seguitarà le mie vestigie.” The average age for beginning an apprenticeship was thirteen, and it usually lasted for several years (Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 88), so we can assume that in his late teens Ferrante had recently finished his apprenticeship ­under his ­father’s tutelage, or was just about to do so. 81. On this type see Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 50–51. 82. Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 30–36; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 165–166. 83. Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 380–381. See also Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 46–49; Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 87–88. 84. Sandra Cavallo, “Fatherhood and the Non-­propertied Classes in Re­nais­ sance and Early Modern Italian Towns,” History of the F ­ amily 17, no. 3 (2012): 309–325; esp. 309–316. Amadio Riva, the most celebrated goldsmith active in Ferrara in the de­cades preceding the arrival of Salomone / Ercole, trained three of his sons to become goldsmiths (Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 380–387). 85. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Master Ercole of October 18, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 41r): “Maestro Hercule, per lettera de Messser Hieornimo Magnanino e per la vostra havemo inteso el bon termine in che se ritrovano le nostre magnilie che ni fa sperare di haverle al tempo promesso al signore Don Alphonso, benché a dir il vero prima dubitavamo non ce intervenesse quello che altre volte è intervenuto cum vuy. Se attendereti la promissa admeteremo la scusa nostra, perché niuno vi potrà più comandare a cui dobiate haver magior rispecto ch’a el signore Don Alphonso. Piacene che Ferrante vostro figliolo habi principiato el lavorare, non dubitamo vi farà honore. Mandamovi del rosachgiero [sic] bono secundo n’è dicto como ve prometessimo. Perseverareti al lavorare, che ultra il pagamento ne fareti cosa grata.”



NOTES TO PAGES 178–184

86. In a letter that Isabella d’Este sent Girolamo Magnanino on the following day (October 19, 1504), she thanked him for his efforts on her behalf, noting that Don Alfonso’s intervention was her only hope; other­w ise, she did not believe it pos­si­ble to ever get Master Ercole to complete her maniglie (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 41v). 87. See Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 453. 88. Cavallo, “Fatherhood and the Non-­propertied Classes,” 311. 89. Cited in Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara, 694: “presente M.o Ferdinando del fu Ercole Fedeli di Ferrara, pure orefice.” Ferdinando was a variant of the name Ferrante (Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308). 90. Liscia Bemporad, “Jewish Ceremonial Art,” 120–121; Chilese, I mestieri e la città, 103n132. 91. On the inherent insecurity that characterized Jewish existence in fifteenth-­and early sixteenth-­century Italy, see Bonfil, Jewish Life in Re­nais­ sance Italy. C H A P T E R S I X T E E N  ​ ​I N P R I S O N , A G A I N

1. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of November  4, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 184): “Vostra Signoria mi racorda il solicitare le sue maniglie, e io già non me l’ho scordato, imperòche hogi sum stato a vedere quello che se faceva in ipse. Et retrovando lo uscio aperto de Maestro Hercule, senza battere ni far altro signo andai sino al Camerino dove il lavora, e ritrovai che lui e suo figliolo il grande gli lavoravano, e veramente non è lavoro da impaciente, tanto è minuto. E creda Vostra Signoria ch’l porta uno grande tempo per quanto cognosco, ma bella cosa sarà, anzi bellissima, a iudicio mio. Non mancarò de solicitarlo, adciò che il lavoro presto se termini.” 2. Master Ercole had promised Don Alfonso that he would finish the work by mid-­November, as Alfonso d’Este noted in his letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 182). 3. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of November 11, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 185): “Li notifico come sono stato ad vederle novamente, et ho ritrovato che se vi lavora molto bene a iudicio mio . . . ​il lavoro et opera è tanto subtile, difficile et laboriosa, che il porta uno mondo de tempo, una cosa può tenere Vostra Signoria per certa, che altra opera non si facesse. . . . ​Et volendo stringere Maestro Hercule, che mi volesse dire certo quando possa dimandare nontiatura a quella che l’opera sia finita, mi ha risposto ch’io non il voglia strengere a die determinato perché non voria dire busia, ma che il non mancarià ni die ne parte de la nocte che lui et figlio non lavori per fare cosa grata a Vostra Signoria, laquale se serà stata tardi ad haverle haverà almanco cosa bene facta e digna di Lei. Non mancarò fino ad opera finita, solicitarli, se bene credo

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ch’io venirò in tanto fastidio a questo Maestro Hercule che non mi vorà male da cortello.” 4. Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 87. On daylight as essential for evaluating the objects produced in goldsmiths’ workshops, see also Patrick Wallis, “Consumption, Retailing, and Medicine in Early-­Modern London,” Economic History Review 61, no. 1 (2008): 26–53; esp. 47. 5. Girolamo Ziliolo, the agent who had delivered the gold for forging the bracelets, also resumed pressuring Master Ercole in t­ hose weeks. In his letter to Isabella d’Este of November 24, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 198), Ziliolo assured the marchioness that her b ­ rother Don Alfonso was personally involved in seeing to the work’s completion. 6. Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 132: “Dopo il 1504 i documenti non danno ulteriori notizie su Ercole.” This affirmation is repeated in Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” 438. 7. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Magnanino of January  13, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 60 v): “Non sapiamo più che dire ne fare circa le manilie nostre, pur volendo nuy una volta o haverle o recuperare l’oro che li dessimo.” 8. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Magnanino of January  13, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 60v); and Isabella d’Este’s instructions to Girolamo Ziliolo of January 13, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 61r). 9. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January 19, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 355): “Maestro Hercule . . . ​sotto le sollite excusationi di questi signori mi ha tenuto in parole, hora habiamo stabilito il prefato signore Don Alfonso et me che lo mandi a chiamare & farli portare dicte Manilie, & farlo ponere in pregione, perché se crede che cum grandissima difficultà se poterà cavare, o quello, o lo oro di mano, per la tristicia sua, pur se spiera cum lo adiuto del prefato Signore cavarli di mano quel ha de Vostra Signoria.” 10. Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 82–87. 11. Federico Gonzaga’s letter to Bona of Savoy of June  20, 1480, cited in David S. Chambers, ed., Patrons and Artists in the Italian Re­nais­sance (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1970), 120–121. 12. Girolamo Magnanino’s letters to Isabella d’Este of October 15 and November 4, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, cc. 183, 184). 13. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October  10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 167) and the letters of Bernardino de’ Prosperi and Francesco da Bagnacavallo to Isabella of that day (cc. 40, 93). 14. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of November 11, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 185): “Perché non voria dire busia”; Magnanino’s letter to Isabella of January 19, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 367).



NOTES TO PAGES 187–188

15. See Stow, “A Tale of Uncertainties,” 258–259; Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice, 244–245. 16. Girolamo Magnanino’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January  19, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 367): “Io sum stato ad ritrovare Maesto Hercule più e più volte per vedere le maniglie . . . ​m i è parso inanimarlo ad compirle, et per farli paura de commissione del Signore mio patrone l’ho facto destenire in castello, dove il starà hogi e dimane, che non si lavora, poi se liberarà cum qualche bona promissa che l’habia ad servire presto Vostra Signoria.” 17. Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 182–183; Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, 61–62. 18. See Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 495–496. 19. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 97–104. 20. On the last months of the duke’s life, see Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 454–456. 21. In 1491, Isabella threatened the painter Giovanni Luca Liombeni that she would have him thrown into Mantua’s bridge dungeon “for the w ­ hole winter” if he did not make more pro­g ress with his work for her, adding: “You might enjoy spending a night ­there to get a taste of how well you like the room; then maybe you would be more responsive” (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 46–47). 22. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Magnanino of January  24, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 64v): “per la speronata che l’ha havuta . . . ​ tanto ch’el sentirà de questa paura che gli ha facto el Signore nostro fratello.” 23. On the instability characterizing Alfonso’s first year as a duke, and on Isabella’s concern about Ferrarese politics in 1505, see Julia Cartwright, Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua, 1474–1539: A Study of the Re­nais­sance (New York: Dutton, 1905), 1:264–266; James, “An Insatiable Appetite for News,” 382–383. 24. The encounter is mentioned in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Alfonso d’Este of June 7, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 8v–9r). 25. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 29, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 357): “questo tristo e ribaldo maestro.” On Ziliolo’s work at Duke Alfonso’s ser­v ice, see Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 223. 26. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Alfonso d’Este of June 7, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 8v–9r): “la necessità, che ho de li manilii.” 27. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Alfonso d’Este of June 7, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 8v–9r); and Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of May 29, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 9r). 28. As noted in Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of June 12, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 358). Isabella praised the decision in her missive to Ziliolo of June 26, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 16v–17r). The

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imprisoned son’s name is not stated explic­itly in ­t hese letters, but they clearly referred to Alfonso (see Chapter 17). 29. Sandra Cavallo, “Bachelorhood and Masculinity in Re­nais­sance and Early Modern Italy,” Eu­ro­pean History Quarterly 38, no. 3 (2008): 375–397; esp. 380–381; Cavallo, “Fatherhood and the Non-­ propertied Classes,” 309–314. 30. Welch, Art and Society in Italy, 93; Silvio Leydi, “A History of the Negroli F ­ amily,” in Heroic Armor of the Italian Re­nais­sance: Filippo Negroli and His Contemporaries, ed. Stuart W. Pyhrr and José-­A . Godoy (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1998), 37–60; esp. 42. 31. Thomas Kuehn, ­Family and Gender in Re­nais­sance Italy, 1300–1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 74–102. 32. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 360): “Maestro Hercule, al quale amaricava assai la carceratione del figliollo.” 33. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of June 26, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 359): “Lo maestro dele maniglie pur è in prigione & gi lavora, non è per uscirne infino non siano perfette, che credo li siamo proximi.” 34. Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 209–210. 35. As noted in Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334). 36. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 360). On the Palazzo Belriguardo, see Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 352–358. 37. Antonio Bertolotti, Artisti in relazione coi Gonzaga signori di Mantova: Ricerche e studi negli archivi mantovani (Modena: Vincenzi, 1885), 90. 38. See Syson and Thornton, Objects of Virtue, 138–140; Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 381; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 32–33, 176. 39. Isabella first had the maniglie sent to Master Ercole and his son for this purpose in 1506 (Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 44–45). 40. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 360): “Pure ad honore de Dio sono finite le Maniglie de Vostra Signoria. . . . ​Maestro Hercule . . . ​ha differito la cosa tanto in longo che non che a Vostra Signoria laquale scio era assai desiderosa vederle perfecte, ma a me etiam oltra modo mi fastidiva la tardità sua. Tutavia la longeza del Maestro s’è compensata ne la elegantia del opera, che voglio dire questo ch’io non credo mai in questa cità fusse facta così gentile et elegante cosa. . . . ​Se l’opera gli piacerà ne receverò consolatione grandissima circa la quale Vostra Signoria po [sic] credere ch’io non gli sum manchato de ogni diligentia a me possibile.” 41. On which see Gruyer, L’art ferrarais, vol. 1; Gundersheimer, Ferrara, 229– 271; Bentini and Agostini, Un Rinascimento singolare; Stephen Campbell, Cosmè Tura of Ferrara: Style, Politics, and the Re­nais­sance City, 1450–1495 (New



42. 43.

44. 45. 46. 47. 48.

49.

50.

51. 52.

53.

NOTES TO PAGES 191–193

Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1997); Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 196–243. See Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 250–251; Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 132, 228. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334): “Illustrissima Madama Mia, per Polidoro corero overo cavalaro mando a Vostra Excellentia le maniglie. Et se ho tardato tropo Vostra Signoria me perdoni, perché chi sta cum altri conviene stare a obedientia. Faticha e afano asai habiamo receuti or dio ne sii laudato del tuto. Dio la lassi bene goldere a Vostra Signoria.” Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187). Isabella d’Este’s letter to Master Ercole of October 18, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 17, c. 41r). Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 360). Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334): “Hercules orevexe.” Salomone da Sesso’s letter to Pietro Gentile da Camerino of August 16, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 233), signed: “Salamon Aurifex Illustrissime Domine Ducisse Ferrarie”; Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187), signed: “Hercules aurifex Illustrissimi domini ducis ferrarie.” Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 300), signed: “Hercules Aurifex Illustrissime Ducisse Ferrarie”; Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of July 15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301), signed: “Hercules auriffice della duchessa.” Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 10, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241), signed: “Hercules aurifice de Vostra Signoria” (c. 302r) and addressed to the following: “Illustrissime et excellentissime Domine Domine Isabelle Marchionesse Mantue domine mee unice” (c. 302v). Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334). Whereas in the first four letters that Master Ercole sent Isabella he employed the standard honorific titles “domine mie observandissime” or “domine colendissime” in addressing her, in his missive of August 10, 1506, he referred to her as his sole patron and identified himself as her goldsmith (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187v; busta 1240, c. 334v; busta 1241, cc. 300 v, 301v, 302r). Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334): “Ill. D. V. Servitor Hercules orevexe, olim—.” In the notarial document of March 20, 1497 (ASFe, Archivio Notarile Antico di Ferrara, Notaio Bartolomeo Codegori, matr. 283, pacco 4, prot. 1497, cc.

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76v–77r), the goldsmith was identified as “Magister Hercules de Sesso filius quondam Mellis aurifex illustrissimi domini nostri Ducis olim hebreus.” However, it is unlikely that the “olim” in Master Ercole’s letter of August  1505 alluded to his Jewish background, since he consistently refrained from mentioning it in his missives. This aspect of his identity underwent no changes in 1505, so ­there was no need to stray from his habitual pattern of self-­identification, whereas his employment in the ser­ vice of an aristocratic patron, which he strove to emphasize in his past dispatches, did change drastically in 1505. 54. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334): “Se io ho servito bene Vostra Signoria . . . ​prego quella che ponga da canto ogni cruzo. . . . ​Etiam prego Vostra Signoria se digni mostrarli a Maestro Andrea Mantiegno.” 55. Campbell, “Antico and Mantegna,” 27–28; Keith Christiansen, Andrea Mantegna: Padua and Mantua (New York: George Braziller, 1994), 7. Mantegna’s figure features in Martin Warnke, The Court Artist: On the Ancestry of the Modern Artist, trans. D. McLintock (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 57–62, 124–125, 148–150, 156–158, 255–256. For recent studies of his oeuvre, see the references in Bourne, “The Art of Diplomacy,” 188–189nn56–70. 56. Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, 117–168, 205–206; Phyllis Williams Lehmann, “The Sources and Meanings of Mantegna’s Parnassus,” in Phyllis Williams Lehmann and Karl Lehmann, Samothracian Reflections: Aspects of the Revival of the Antique (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1973), 59–178; esp. 59–61; Roger Jones, “Mantegna and Materials,” I Tatti Studies in the Italian Re­nais­sance 2 (1987): 71–90; esp. 86–88; Clark, “Collecting, Exchange, and Sociability,” 181; San Juan, “The Court Lady’s Dilemma,” 73; Clifford  M. Brown, “Isabella d’Este e il mondo Greco-­ Romano,” in Isabella d’Este: La primadonna del Rinascimento, ed. Bini, 109–127; esp. 116–117. C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N  ​ ​P L A G U E A N D M A L A R I A

1. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of August  21, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 28v–29r): “Spettabile Amico nostro carissimo, havemo receuto la lettera vostra insieme cum le manilie, le quale sono tanto belle, et excelente che excusano la longeza et tardità dil aurifice. Laudiamo Maestro Hercule et lo figliolo de cossì elegante opera, et vuy dela diligentia haveti usata. Allo Illustrissimo nostro fratello rendeti da parte nostra infinite gratie . . . ​perché se non fusse stato l’autorità sua, et lo partito preso de ponerlo in castello credemo non li haveria finite in vita sua. Dil pretio dela manifatura ch’el dimanda ni pare che veramente



NOTES TO PAGES 196–197

non meriti uno bolognino mancho de li vinticinque ducati. Ma perché sono più anni che nui gli dessimo venticinque ducati perché el ni facesse botoni d’oro, quali mai ce ha fatto, gli potreti dire che compensaremo l’uno in l’altro. Et aciòche che’l conoscha che stimamo el lavorere, et virtù sua gli donareti dece ducati, et dui li dareti per il conto de l’oro che figurati resta havere.” 2. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Master Ercole of August 21, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, c. 29): “Maestro Hercule, le manilie sono belle, et elegante, de le quale restamo in optima satisfactione, et compensamo la beleza in la tardità. Circa il pagamento de la manifatura et del oro che restati havere ni remettemo a Hieronimo Zeliolo. Se credessimo che havesti ad essere più presto in servirni, che non seti stato per il passato, cessata che fusse la peste vi mandaresimo il modo de farne diece o dodeci botoni d’oro da portar al brazo. Perhò se deliberareti di mutare natura, et nelo avisati quando Ferrara serà fora de pericolo vi mandaremo i denari da farli.” 3. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 55n97, 113, 142, 227, 229–233, 263–264, 266, 272, 335–336, 474, 489–490, 520. 4. Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 296–297; Lockwood, ­Music in Re­nais­ sance Ferrara, 231–232; Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 236–238. 5. Boccaccino was liberated thanks to the intervention of Antonio Costabili, the Ferrarese ambassador in Milan (Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 202). Like Master Ercole, the painter continued to get into trou­ble a­ fter his release: Edmund G. Gardner, The Paint­e rs of the School of Ferrara (London: Ballantyne, 1911), 171–172. 6. Judith C. Brown, “Economies,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Italian Re­ nais­sance, ed. Wyatt, 320–337; esp. 329. 7. Barbara Bettoni, “Usefulness, Ornamental Function and Novelty: Debates on Quality in Button and Buckle Manufacturing in Northern Italy (Eigh­teenth to Nineteenth Centuries),” in Concepts of Value in Eu­ro­pean Material Culture, 1500–1900, ed. Bert de Munck and Dries Lyba (London: Routledge, 2015), 171–206; esp. 179–181. 8. Muzzarelli, Gli inganni delle apparenze, 63–64; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 24–25, 52, 163. 9. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 142. 10. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 160; David S. Chambers, “The Gonzaga Signoria, Communal Institutions and ‘the Honour of the City’: Mixed Ideas in Quattrocento Mantua,” in Communes and Despots in Medieval and Re­nais­sance Italy, ed. John E. Law and Bernadette Paton (Burlington: Ashgate, 2010), 105–118; esp. 108. 11. Gardner, Dukes and Poets, 502. 12. ASMo, CD, AC, Guardaroba, no. 121 (Libro de recordi de guardaroba, 1495–1509), c. 73v, mentioning “Maestro Hercule da Seso horevese.”

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NOTES TO PAGES 197–200

Subsequent references in Lucrezia’s account books often designate him solely as Master Ercole the goldsmith, omitting the toponym “da Sesso,” but since some of them pertain to Master Ercole and his son Alfonso—as in ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), cc. 137v, 141r—­the goldsmith in question can be identified with certainty as the baptized Jew Ercole da Sesso. On the fluidity in the choice of names with which artists ­were identified, see Welch, Art and Society in Italy, 87. 13. Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 49, affirms: “If between 1506 and 1508 Duke Alfonso I had only one goldsmith and one painter on his rolls, the duchess, Lucrezia Borgia had two goldsmiths and twelve paint­ers in her employ. She paid from her own pocket, and she had most prob­a bly chosen them herself.” Master Ercole is identified as one of Lucrezia’s two court goldsmiths in t­ hose years in Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 63, 75n3. 14. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), cc. 18v, 25r, 26r, 28r. Master Ercole’s monthly salary is recorded in the list of Lucrezia’s salaried employees in 1506 (c. 94r): “per havere servito mixi dodexe in ragione de L. 15 dato el mexe—­L . 180.” On this list, see Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia,” 7nn20–21, 31. 15. Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 34–36. See also Gundersheimer, Ferrara, 290–296, for the range of salaries that employees of the Ferrarese court received. 16. For the annual salaries of other permanent court employees, see Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 66; Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia,” 7–12. 17. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 29–30; Shemek, “Introduction,” 18. A se­lection of more than 800 of the marchesa’s letters is now available in Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek. 18. Diane Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia as Entrepreneur,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 61, no. 1 (Spring 2008): 53–91; esp. 63. 19. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), cc. 18v, 25r, 26r, 28r, 45v, 53v, 54r, 70 v, 86r, 94r; ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), cc. 71r, 77r, 84 v, 86v, 89r, 91r, 108r, 112v, 114v, 115v, 123v, 125, 137v, 141v, 145r, 166v, 181v, 186r. 20. Bonatti, “Prima carta dell’inventario delle gioie di Lucrezia Borgia,” 192; Bellonci, Lucrezia Borgia, 539. 21. Isabella ­l ater ordered additional buttons from the Ferrarese workshop and was satisfied with them, as noted in her letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of March 22, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, c. 40). 22. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 20, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 277). On the votto (invariably spelled voto), see Bertolotti, Artisti in relazione coi Gonzaga, 90.



NOTES TO PAGES 200–203

23. See Chapter 15. 24. Whereas Lucrezia’s account book rec­ords Master Ercole’s commissions in March and April 1506, his name is missing from the registers of May and June, suggesting that he neither received materials nor consigned any works during ­t hose months: ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), cc. 18v, 25r, 26r, 28r. “Maestro Erchule orevexe” reappears in the account book only on July 6, 1506 (c. 45v). 25. Francesco Gonzaga’s ­orders to Master Ercole of February 18, 1495 (ASMn, AG, 2906, lib. 150, c. 72v). 26. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). 27. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of October 10, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 1232, c. 40). 28. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29). 29. Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 251–252 (based on only a few of Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s reports on the matches that Lucrezia oversaw). 30. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letters to Isabella d’Este of January 6, January 13, February 8, April 27, and September 13, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, cc. 3, 5, 11, 29, 59); of August 6 and September 7, 1507 (cc. 435, 450); and of June 16, 1508 (ASMn, AG, busta 1242, c. 140). 31. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January  6, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 3): “la Violante già ebrea se è promessa ad uno [sic] depinctor.” 32. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 27, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 29): “La Nicola hersira se ne andete a casa di suo marito e a questo dì fo mandato anche Violante già hebrea a casa del suo. . . . ​Anna di Maestro Hercule fo facta sposa.” Bradford (Lucrezia Borgia, 168, 251, 300) mentions Lucrezia’s arrangement of Violante’s marriage, but Anna’s fate and the duchess’s role in marrying her off have hitherto remained obscured. 33. Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 87; Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 63–64; Welch, Art and Society in Italy, 93. 34. On the invisibility of many premodern ladies-­in-­waiting in the historical rec­ord, see Houben and Akkerman, “Introduction,” 5–6, 20–21. 35. Thus Anna is not mentioned in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 13, 1508 (ASMn, AG, busta 1242, c. 129), in which he lists some of Lucrezia’s former damsels who attended carnival festivities at court but ­later returned to their homes, while ­others remained overnight. 36. On w ­ omen of the artisanal class in pre-­Tridentine Eu­rope and the difficulties in unearthing their life experiences, see Jones, “Public and Private Space,” 248–255; Kathryn Reyerson, “Urban Economies,” in The Oxford

351

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NOTES TO PAGES 203–204

Handbook of W ­ omen and Gender, ed. Bennett and Mazo Karras, 295–310; esp. 303–304. For the greater variety of sources documenting the participation of popolane ­women in Italian urban life ­a fter the Council of Trent, see Monica Chojnacka, Working ­Women of Early Modern Venice (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), xviii–xx. 37. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 300). Alfonso’s meeting with Isabella in 1506 could not have taken place on April 2, as suggested in Bertolotti, Le arti minori, 63, given the l­ ater date of April 20 on which Ziliolo reported Master Ercole’s offer to send his son to Mantua, b ­ ecause he was unable to go t­ here himself (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 277). 38. In an undated letter to Girolamo Ziliolo, which was copied into the book of Isabella d’Este’s copialettere amid missives that she dictated on May 9, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, cc. 88v–89r), the marchioness instructed her agent to check on Master Ercole and his son and to pressure them to complete the work swiftly. 39. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 300): “Mi è accaduto di metterli dentro certe bande di ferro apresso al’oro dove possa il coverchio, et questo l’ho monstrato al Reverendissimo Monsignore nostro, et al presente portatore. Et de questo mi è paruto darne adviso a Vostra Signoria perché se mai se apressono non se possa dire haverli dato ferro in cambio d’oro.” 40. Stuard, Gilding the Market, 165. 41. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 300). This and the goldsmith’s missives to the marchesa of July 15 and August 10, 1506, are mentioned in passing in Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 306. 42. On the marchesa’s reliance on models, see Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 339. 43. As noted in Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of July  15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301). On Della Grana, who worked as the assayer in Mantua’s mint for many years and was occasionally entrusted with supervising the pro­gress of works that Isabella commissioned in other cities, see Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 157; Bertolotti, Artisti in relazione coi Gonzaga, 91–92; Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 42, 56–57, 81; Clifford M. Brown, with the collaboration of Anna Maria Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia: Documents for the History of Art and Culture in Re­nais­sance Mantua (Geneva: Droz, 1982), 68–70, 186. 44. Christopher F. Black, Early Modern Italy: A Social History (London: Routledge, 2001), 9, 18, 25; James, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?,” 538– 539; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 45n67, 351, 482.



NOTES TO PAGES 204–206

45. Medical authorities associated quartan fever with the accumulation of black bile in the spleen, and vari­ous herbals, including one written by a Ferrarese physician, suggested remedies for alleviating its symptoms. See Iain M. Lonie, “Fever Pathology in the Sixteenth C ­ entury: Tradition and Innovation,” Medical History, supp. 1 (1981): 19–44; Michael Adams, Wandana Alther, Michael Kessler, Martin Kluger, and Matthias Hamburger, “Malaria in the Re­nais­sance: Remedies from Eu­ro­pean Herbals from the Sixteenth and Seventeenth C ­ entury,” Journal of Ethnopharmacolog y 133 (2011): 278–288; Chiara Beatrice Vicentini, Stefano Manfredini, Donatella Mares, Silvia Lupi, Enrica Guidi, and Carlo Contini, “La malaria in aree ad elevata endemia del nord Italia e nel contesto italiano: Rimedi e succedanei nella pratica medica dell’Ottocento,” Le Infezioni in Medicina 2 (2014): 156–177; esp. 156–157. 46. As Master Ercole recounted in his letter to Isabella d’Este of July 15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301). 47. ­Sister Theodora’s death is noted at the margin of the page recording her vestition (Cronaca di Fra Benedetto da Mantova, ASDF, SCS, busta 3 / 22, fol. 4v). 48. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of July 15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301). Despite the short life expectancy in premodern Eu­rope, the demise of a person in her or his twenties was considered an untimely one, deemed to be a ­bitter and unnatural event: Shulamith Shahar, Growing Old in the M ­ iddle Ages: “Winter Clothes Us in Shadow and Pain,” trans. Yael Lotan (London: Routledge, 1997), 22. 49. Most convent deaths in early modern Italy occurred during the cold months of winter, often as a result of pneumonic illnesses (Brown, “Everyday Life, Longevity, and Nuns,” 127–128). While the timing of S ­ ister Theodora’s death, in June, could point to malarial fever as a pos­si­ble cause, the fact that she was the only nun in Santa Caterina da Siena to die in the summer of 1506 suggests that air circulation in her newly erected convent did not render its members particularly susceptible to the disease, as was the case in other nunneries (see Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 106). 50. On the assignment of sickly girls to convents, see Sharon Strocchia, “­Women on the Edge: Madness, Possession, and Suicide in Early Modern Convents,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 45, no.  1 (January 2015): 53–77; esp. 66; Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 2; Evangelisti, Nuns, 21. 51. See Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 133–136. 52. See Strocchia, Nuns and Nunneries, 168. 53. Glixon, Mirrors of Heaven, 168–171. 54. For the funerals of choir nuns, see Evangelisti, Nuns, 32. On the friars of Santa Maria degli Angeli, who filled all sacerdotal functions in Santa Caterina da Siena, see Herzig, Savonarola’s ­Women, 88, 129, 138–139.

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C H A P T E R E I G H­T E E N  ​  ​F E R R A R A A T W A R



1. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of July 15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 301). 2. James, “An Insatiable Appetite for News,” 381, 384; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 160n2; Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, 205. See also Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 56. 3. Master Ercole’s letters to Isabella d’Este of May  14 and July  15, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, cc. 300, 301). 4. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 10, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 302v): “Illustrissime et excellentissime Domine Domine Isabelle Marchionesse Mantue domine mee unice.” 5. Master Ercole was included in the list of annual payments made to Lucrezia’s permanent employees for their ser­vice in 1506, on December 26 of that year, in ASMo, CD, AP, no.  1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), cc. 92v–94v (noted on c. 94r). 6. See Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 172. 7. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 10, 1506 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 302r). 8. Bertolotti, Le arti minori, 238. 9. Lucrezia Borgia’s commissions from Master Ercole ­were recorded in her account books in July, August, and October 1506: ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), cc. 45v, 53v, 54r, 70 v, 86r. 10. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 86v : “Maestro Erchule orevexe per haver servito questo ano 1507 . . . ​L . 133. S. 1. D. 6.” 11. Master Ercole’s annual salary of 180 lire marchesane for 1508 is recorded in ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 181v. 12. Guerzoni, “ ‘Familia,’ ‘corte,’ ‘casa,’ ” 526. 13. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 86v; also c. 181v: “Maestro Erchule orevexe per haver servito da dì primo zenaro per tuto dicto ano in ragione de L. quindexe el mexe”; ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), c. 94r: “per havere servito mixi dodexe in ragione de L. 15 dato el mexe.” 14. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 45; Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 162. 15. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of September 22, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 20, c. 69 v). The marchesa regularly complained to her agents about being fed up with artists’ slowness (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 198, 208, 253–254, 339). 16. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 30, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 546).



NOTES TO PAGES 209–211

17. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of November 1, 1507 (ASMn, AG, busta 1241, c. 547): “quando dio ha voluto io ho pure facto compire li feriti a Maestro Hercule cussì li mando.” An entry in Lucrezia Borgia’s account book indicates that Master Ercole owed Ziliolo some gold, which the latter only received on the goldsmith’s behalf on November 29, 1507: ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 166v. 18. For unemancipated artists whose f­ athers signed the contracts for their work and received payments for it, see Leydi, “A History of the Negroli ­Family,” 42; Welch, Art and Society in Italy, 93. See also Cavallo, “Fatherhood and the Non-­propertied Classes,” 314, 318. 19. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), cc. 137v, 141r. 20. Master Ercole’s debts to the ducal trea­sury for 1506 totaled 95 lire marchesane, and ­those that he incurred in 1507 equaled 64 lire marchesane: ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1130 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1506), c. 94r; ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 86v. 21. See Guerzoni, “ ‘Familia,’ ‘corte,’ ‘casa,’ ” 526. 22. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), c. 181v. 23. Boccia and Coelho, Armi bianche italiane, 361–362, and see the description at the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s databank: https://­w ww​.­k hm​.­at​ /­objektdb​/­detail​/­510794/ (accessed December 26, 2017). 24. Gregori, In the Light of Apollo, 402. The swords’ attribution to Master Ercole is based on stylistic analy­sis. 25. See Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131; Le armi degli Estensi: La collezione di Konopiště, xxvi, xxviii; Nonato, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 74–78. 26. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 172–180; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 307–308; Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 230–231. 27. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 53. Bernardino de’ Prosperi, in his letters to Isabella d’Este of December 17, 1509, and June 8, 1510 (ASMn, AG, busta 1242, cc. 389, 590), lamented the dispersal of Lucrezia’s jewelry, which had to be pawned b ­ ecause of the war. 28. See chapter 19. 29. Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia as Entrepreneur,” 54, 60–62; Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia’s Palace in Re­nais­sance Ferrara,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 64, no. 4 (December 2005): 474–497; esp. 474–478. 30. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 314–330; James, “­Women and Diplomacy in Re­n ais­sance Italy,” 21–22. 31. Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia,” 4–8. 32. The number of tondi that required mending is noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 128).

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33. Throughout most of his correspondence with Isabella d’Este, Bernardino de’ Prosperi referred to them merely as “tondi,” but in his letter of April 13, 1511, he specified that they ­were the type of tondi to be pinned to one’s cap (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 110): “li tondi da scoffioto.” On the use of “scoffioto” to designate headgear, see Trenti, s.v. “Scoffioto, scofioto, scofiotto,” in Voci di terre Estensi, 504. 34. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 66–68. 35. As noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 26, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 99). 36. ­Because she was the best-­k nown nun in Ferrara bearing this name, Isabella d’Este and her correspondents referred to Boiardi merely as “­Sister Laura.” On her carnal ­sister, Alda, see Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, “La coltura e le relazioni letterarie d’Isabella d’Este ed Elisabetta Gonzaga,” part 2, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 35 (1900): 193– 257; esp. 226–228; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 99, 108, 179n92; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 400–401, 474, 488–489. 37. Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 55, 71–73, 107–114, 130–132; Hickson, ­Women, Art, and Architecture in Re­nais­sance Mantua, 45–84, 161–162; Basora, “Tra le carte della Marchesa,” 228. For Lucrezia’s close involvement with San Bernardino, see Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia’s Palace,” 481–482; Arvi Wattel, “Seeing the Body of Christ: Garofalo’s Painting of the Crucifixion for the Poor Clares of San Bernardino in Ferrara,” Rivista d’Arte ser. 5, no. 3 (2013): 77–107; esp. 88–90. 38. Notably, Isabella asked ­Sister Laura to pass on her condolences to Lucrezia upon the death of her son Rodrigo (Luzio and Renier, “La coltura e le relazioni letterarie d’Isabella d’Este ed Elisabetta Gonzaga,” part 2, 228n2). 39. On the cultivation of social connections by Italian abbesses, see Kate Lowe, “Elections of Abbesses and Notions of Identity in Fifteenth-­and Sixteenth-­Century Italy, with Special Reference to Venice,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 54, no. 2 (2001): 389–429; esp. 389–395. 40. Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 319–320. 41. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March  26, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 99): “Maestro Hercule orevexe me ha monstrò [sic] li tondi che ha mandato Vostra Signoria a Sor Laura perché se concino dove bisogna, e dice che lui non intende lo andare de quelli filli per essere cosa trista e fatta senza ragione, e s’el pare a quella, che’l ge ne farà de belissima foza, e che ge piacciano assai più di questi. Et perché Sor Laura mi haveva commesso ch’io lo solicitasse a conciarli, l’ho pregato a farlo, ma non ge vuole fare altro finché quella non mi da risposta di questo sia gene adviso. Lui dice anche che sono troppo deboli.” 42. Master Ercole’s letter to Isabella d’Este of August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334).



NOTES TO PAGES 213–214

43. Rossi, “I medaglisti del Rinascimento alla corte di Mantova,” 26; Boccia and Coelho, Armi bianche italiane, 362; Le armi degli Estensi: La collezione di Konopiště, 3, cata­log entry II (D 242). 44. See Ames-­L ewis, Isabella and Leonardo, 19–34. 45. This is attested in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 7, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 105). 46. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of May 14, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 128) details the calculation of the overall cost of the work’s production, minus the value of the gold of the original tondi. 47. For religious ­women’s engagement in artistic and architectural patronage within their nunneries, see Lowe, Nuns’ Chronicles, 383–394; Sheila Barker, “Painting and Humanism in Early Modern Florentine Convents,” Memorie domenicane 46 (2015): 105–139. On the pivotal role that abbesses and prioresses played in commissioning works that ­were aimed at boosting their convents’ prestige, see Ann M. Roberts, “Chiara Gambacorta of Pisa as Patroness of the Arts,” in Creative ­Women in Medieval and Early Modern Italy: A Religious and Artistic Re­nais­sance, ed. E. Ann M ­ atter and John Coakley (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994), 120–154; Lowe, “Elections of Abbesses and Notions of Identity,” 411–426. For the broader social and cultural context of abbesses’ artistic patronage, see also Sharon T. Strocchia, “Abbess Piera de’ Medici and Her Kin: Gender, Gifts, and Patronage in Re­nais­sance Florence,” Re­nais­sance Studies 28, no. 5 (2014): 695–713. 48. For the difficulties of unearthing Re­n ais­sance ­women’s involvement in the vari­ous stages of commissioning works of art in general, see Roger J. Crum, “Controlling ­Women or ­Women Controlled? Suggestions for Gender Roles and Visual Culture in the Italian Re­nais­sance Palace,” in Beyond Isabella: Secular ­Women Patrons of Art in Re­nais­sance Italy, ed. Sheryl Reiss and David  J. Wilkins (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001), 37–47. 49. Angela Ghirardi, “Osanna Andreasi e Isabella d’Este: Tracce artistiche di un’amicizia,” in Osanna Andreasi da Mantova, 1449–1505: L’immagine di una mistica del Rinascimento, ed. Renata Casarin (Mantua: Casandreasi, 2005), 65–77; esp. 76–77; Gabriella Zarri, “Tra monache e confessori: La corte di Lucrezia Borgia,” in L’età di Alfonso I e la pittura del Dosso: Atti del Convegno internazionale di studi, Ferrara, Palazzina di Marisa d’Este, 9–12 dicembre 1998, ed. Angela Ghinato (Modena: Panini, 2004), 103–118. 50. On Isabella’s agents, see Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 262–273. 51. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 11, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 108). 52. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 13, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 110): “per certi lavori d’oro quali bisogna fare ala Signora Duchessa.” 53. Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 307–309.

357

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NOTES TO PAGES 214–215

54. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 28, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, c. 112). 55. On Jewish versus Christian work time, see Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­ sance, 110. 56. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letters to Isabella d’Este of April 30, May 7, May 12, May 14, and May 16, 1511 (ASMn, AG, busta 1243, cc. 114, 119, 125v, 128, 130 v). In Prosperi’s missive to Isabella of May 8, 1511 (c. 121), he asserted: “dubito di non potere havere li tondi da Maestro Hercule per esser sta [sic] impedito da lavoreri de la Signora Duchessa.” 57. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 307–308, 343, 346– 348, 361. 58. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 67–68. As suggested in Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, 103, Isabella’s explication of the tondo’s allegorical meaning attests to her tendency “to think of the papal court in terms of contaminating vice and po­l iti­cal menace” in the years of her son’s forced sojourn in Rome. 59. On the iconography of the “Queen of Swords,” see Diotallevi, “Arte e armi per Cesare,” 437–442; Carbonelli Buades, “Cèsar Borja i l’art,” 331–332; Bemis, “Crossing the Rubicon in Re­n ais­sance Fashion,” 41–45. 60. This commission is discussed in Bertolotti, Le arti minori, 63; Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 189. 61. Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 171–205; Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” 218; Welch, “Scented Buttons and Perfumed Gloves,” 13–39; Welch, “Art on the Edge,” 261; Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 252; Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 128–139. 62. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of May 20, 1512 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 30, c. 17r): “Mandiamovi una ballotta de composition de odori a ciò che la diati a Maestro Hercule, cum ordine che gli facia una coperta d’oro sopra ben lavorata a suo modo. . . . ​Fatilo tenere solicitato, si che l’habiamo presto.” 63. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 104–105; Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 184–185. 64. Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January  7, 1513 (ASMn, AG, busta 1245, c. 63). Upon delivering the work, on a Saturday eve­ning, Master Ercole affirmed that he wished to make another “corneto” of this kind for the marchioness, as noted in Bernardino de’ Prosperi’s letter to Isabella d’Este of January 17, 1513 (c. 66). On goldsmiths’ engagement in the production of amulets, see John Cherry, “Healing through Faith: The Continuation of Medieval Attitudes to Jewellery into the Re­ nais­sance,” Re­nais­sance Studies 15, no. 2 (June 2001): 154–171; esp. 154–155. 65. Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 231; Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 186n72; Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 63–65. 66. Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia’s Palace,” 474–478.



NOTES TO PAGES 215–217

67. Bellonci, Lucrezia Borgia, 529–542; Prizer, “Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia,” 9. 68. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of January 15, 1514 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 30a, c. 70 v). 69. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of December 12, 1515 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 32, c. 62r). For an En­g lish translation, see Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 403–404. 70. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of December 17, 1515 (ASMn, AG, busta 1245, c. 573): “In exequutione de quanto la Signoria Vostra mi ha scritto sum stato a casa de Maestro Hercule orefice, et facto instantia de havere la Balota sua de odori cum lo oro ch’io gli detti. Dove ho ritrovato il lavoro suo principiato ma imperfecto, si per la infirmita de dicto Maestro Hercule, che è stata longa e grave, si etiam per li occupatione de alcuni lavori de la Illustrissima Duchessa. Per la qual cosa havendo ritrovata principiata l’opera et cum promissione de finirla senza altra intermissione, mosso da pietà de la povertà sua, che in verità è grandissima, non ho proceduto contra di lui ad quel ch’el meritarià . . . ​zoè di farlo stare in uno fondo de torre per qualche mese, ma pur ho acceptato la bona intentione et promissione mi ha facto de expedire dicta sua opera, et cum quella più celerità possibile. Così prego prefata Signoria Vostra ad farli anchora questo termine.” 71. See Borgolotto, “Mele di Salomone da Sessa,” 150. 72. Mikołaj Szołtysek, “House­holds and ­Family Systems,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Modern Eu­ro­pean History, ed. Scott, 1:313–341; esp. 314. See ­ iddle Ages, 22–24. also Shahar, Growing Old in the M 73. See Sigerist, “Historical Background of Industrial and Occupational Diseases,” 601. 74. Gochfeld, “Chronologic History of Occupational Medicine,” 101; Riva et al., “Lead Poisoning,” 12. For Re­nais­sance goldsmiths’ use of lead, see Stuard, Gilding the Market, 160, 164–165. On the occupational ­hazards faced by early modern metalworkers, see also Emily Cockayne, Hubbub: Filth, Noise, and Stench in ­England, 1600–1770 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007), 61, 135, 207. 75. Cited in F. William Sunderman, “Perils of Mercury,” Annals of Clinical and Laboratory Science 18, no. 2 (1988): 89–101; esp. 92. See also Daniel Schäfer, Old Age and Disease in Early Modern Medicine, trans. Patrick Baker (London: Routledge, 2011), 239n156. 76. See chapter 19. 77. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letters to Isabella d’Este of August  22 and September 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, cc. 194, 197) and of January 19 and May 29, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, cc. 355, 357). 78. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of September 22, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 197).

359

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NOTES TO PAGES 218–222

79. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of December 17, 1515 (ASMn, AG, busta 1245, c. 573): “la povertà sua, che in verità è grandissima.” 80. See Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, esp. 87–89. 81. Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 84, 96; Smith, “In a Sixteenth-­Century Goldsmith’s Workshop,” 44. 82. See Chapter 2. 83. See Toffanello, Le arti a Ferrara nel Quattrocento, 380–387; Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 30–36; Stuard, Gilding the Market, 165–166; Burke, The Italian Re­nais­sance, 46–49; Reilly, “Artists’ Workshops,” 87–88. 84. On the devastating effects of prolonged warfare on the populace of central and northern Italy in the early sixteenth c­ entury, see Black, Early Modern Italy, 8–10. Recovery from the economic crisis brought about by the Italian Wars began only in midcentury: John A. Marino, “Economic Structures and Transformations,” in Early Modern Italy, 1550–1796, ed. John A. Marino (2002; repr., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 51–68; esp. 62–63. 85. Since in March 1521 Alfonso is known to have had six c­ hildren (Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308), by December 1515 he had certainly fathered at least one child, and prob­ably already had two or more ­children. 86. Houston, “Towns and Urbanization,” 489. C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N  ​ ​G L I T T E R A N D G R I E F



1. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of March 9, 1516 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 32, c. 92v). 2. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 12, 1516 (ASMn, AG, busta 1246, c. 187): “In exequutione de le lettere de Vostra Signoria, sum stato novamente cum Maestro Hercule aurifice, et factogli intendere che per non haver mai fato fine a la Balota sua de odori, che serà necessario pur farlo incarcerare, et certo che l’haria facto se non che vedo ne succederia la ruina de la famiglia sua, et forsi anche de la sua vita, che per esser stato longamente infermo il non è anche bene ratificato, et ogni poca giostra lo baterià a terra. Pur ho voluto vedere dicta Balotta cum quel oro che se gli ritrova, et ho visto la cosa in assai bon termini et forsi più che meglio facta, et certo che l’opera serà ellegante come la sia finita, et non cessarò che tanto lo tenerò excitato che gli darà expedictione. Non mi è parso pigliare la cosa così imperfecta . . . ​ma . . . ​se pur ad quella gli pare ch’io me la facia restituire come la ritrova, et ge la mandi, lo farò molto voluntieri.” 3. Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 185–186. Antonio Bertolotti overlooks the acknowl­edgment of the goldsmith’s failing health, while emphasizing Ziliolo’s readiness to have him arrested: Bertolotti, Artisti in relazione coi Gonzaga, 90–91; Bertolotti, Le arti minori, 63 (Gruyer,



NOTES TO PAGES 222–223

4.

5. 6.



7.



8.



9.

10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

L’art ferrarais, 1:575, similarly disregards Ziliolo’s mention of the goldsmith’s ill health). Alfonso’s wife and his nubile ­sisters are mentioned in the supplication sent to Isabella d’Este on behalf of “Eleonora madre, e Sapientia mogliere de Alfonso de Maestro Hercule de Fedeli orevexe e sei figliolini inutili de detto Alfonso, e anche tre sorelle de detto Alfonso da maridare,” on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). I read the name of Alfonso’s spouse as “Sapientia,” whereas Angelucci’s reading of “Sapuncia” (Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308) is reiterated in Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 209; Gruyer, L’art ferrarais, 1:577. As far as I know, “Sapuncia” was not used as a female name in early modern Italy, whereas “Sapientia,” albeit not very common, does appear in baptismal registers from this period; see the recurrence of “Sapientia” in the registers from the parish of San Sebastiano in Reggio Calabria: http://­w ww​.­benvanrijswijk​.­com​/­indici​/­reggiossebastianobattesimi1618​ -­1641​.­htm (accessed January 2, 2018). See note 85 in Chapter 18. In Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of August 11, 1516 (ASMn, AG, busta 2996, lib. 33, c. 42r), she noted her surprise at actually receiving the pomander, having entirely forgotten about it a­ fter so long. Bertolotti (Le arti minori, 63) gives the date as August 16, 1516, but the copy of the missive in Isabella’s copialettere clearly indicates that it was August 11. See also Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 105; Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 188, 202n95; Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 189. See Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia as Entrepreneur,” 62; Bonatti, “Prima carta dell’inventario delle gioie di Lucrezia Borgia,” 192. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), passim (especially cc. 40 v, 41r–­v, 42v, 49r). ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 49r. On the increased demand for bejeweled sables in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, see Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 190–191. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1131 (Memoriale di Lucrezia Borgia, 1507[–­Jan. 1509]), cc. 137v, 141r. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 40r : “Maestro Alphonso orevexe.” As noted in ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), cc. 40r, 41r, 42r. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 42v. Welch, “Art on the Edge,” 263–268. On small fans of this kind, which w ­ ere tied to the b ­ elts of aristocratic ­women, see Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri

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NOTES TO PAGES 224–225

milanesi, 191–192; Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 111–112; Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” 217–218. 15. Angela was the ­d aughter of Giovanni Valla, who had served as Ercole d’Este’s ambassador to Milan and had been involved in procuring artworks for him (Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 207). 16. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), cc. 10r, 42r. Lucrezia secured Angela’s betrothal to Ippolito da li Banchi (Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 336). 17. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), cc. 41v, 42r–­v. On the finery that Lucrezia commissioned for her ­d aughter, see Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia as Entrepreneur,” 83n105. For the disputed parentage of Giovanni Borgia, see Ghirardo, 79, 88; Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia’s Palace,” 489, 496n78; Zarri, La religione di Lucrezia Borgia, 18–20. 18. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 42v. On the importance of the beretta in the courtly attire of the Cinquecento, see Colantuono, “Estense Patronage,” 223. 19. Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 163–164. 20. As noted in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of April 18, 1519, the maniglie ­were still unfinished on that date (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, cc. 49 v–50r). 21. The list specifies the amount of gold that Master Ercole received on December 15, 1517, detailing the works that he was supposed to use it for: ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 49r. 22. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), cc. 26r, 43r, 49r. 23. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 43v : “in forma d’epitaphio.” For the influence of Roman inscriptions on the cinquedea that Master Ercole engraved for Cesare Borgia, see Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 207. 24. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 44v. On the high demand for sables with heads, see Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 401–402n265. 25. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 26r : “Sei bottoni grandi d’oro lavorati de fila per metterli compositione smaltati de biancho e rosso cum littere ad amen da uno latto fatti per fare manile novamente per la mano de Maestro Hercule et Maestro Alfonso orevexi.” On the use of gilded and enameled alphabet letters for adorning w ­ omen’s clothes and accessories, see Stuard, Gilding the ­ ere white, red, green, and turquoise; conMarket, 98–100. The Este colors w sequently, ­these ­were the colors most frequently employed for enameling



26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31. 32. 33.

34. 35. 36.

NOTES TO PAGES 225–226

Lucrezia’s jewelry (Bonatti, “Prima carta dell’inventario delle gioie di Lucrezia Borgia,” 192). Diane Ghirardo has called attention to this aspect of Lucrezia Borgia’s patronage in her paper “Lucrezia Borgia’s Sacred Jewelry,” presented at the annual meeting of the Re­n ais­sance Society of Amer­i­c a in Boston in April 2016. I thank Prof. Ghirardo for the permission to cite this paper. For the popularity of sacred jewelry in northern Italy, see Venturelli, Gioielli e gioiellieri milanesi, 138–140; Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” 216. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 19, 1518 (ASMn, AG, busta 1246, c. 702). Four months l­ ater, Ziliolo assured the marchioness that he constantly implored Master Ercole to speed up the work. He subsequently supplied the artist with additional gold and, upon departing for Milan, left instructions for urging him to finish the piece: Girolamo Ziliolo’s letters to Isabella d’Este of August 19 and September 2, 1518 (ASMn, AG, busta 1246, cc. 724, 729). Romolo Quazza, “Alfonso I d’Este, duca di Ferrara,” in Dizionario Bio­ atter regrafico degli Italiani 2 (1960):  332–337. Alfonso’s hopes in the m mained frustrated ­u ntil Emperor Charles V fi­n ally restored his ducal rights to Modena and Reggio in 1530. Gaspare De Caro, “Borgia, Giovanni, detto l’Infante romano,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 12 (1971):  719–721; Ghirardo, “Lucrezia Borgia’s Palace,” 489. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 44v: “La bottesella novamente fatta per Maestro Alfonso, et gli sei bottoni fatti per lui et per Maestro Hercule suo patre . . . ​ cum la catena et cinque bottoselle . . . ​furno mandati per il signore don Jovanni Borgia a donare alla maestà del Re de Franza, piena de compositione questo dì 16 Novembre 1518.” Bettoni, “Usefulness, Ornamental Function and Novelty,” 180. See the seminal study of Natalie Zemon Davis, The Gift in Sixteenth-­Century France (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2000). De Caro, “Borgia, Giovanni.” On Alfonso’s pre­sen­t a­t ion of Giovanni to the king of France, see Edmund G. Gardner, The King of Court Poets: A Study of the Work, Life and Times of Lodovico Ariosto (London: Constable, 1906), 138–139; Bellonci, Lucrezia Borgia, 555–556; Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia, 337–338. See Chapter 12. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 44v. Master Ercole’s absence from Ferrara is noted in Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 19, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, c. 158).

363

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NOTES TO PAGES 226–228

37. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), cc. 35v, 40r. 38. Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” 216. 39. Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier mistook the name of this fan’s maker in Lucrezia’s inventory entry to be Master Alfonso “Veronese” (Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 112), although he is clearly designated as Master Alfonso “the goldsmith” (orevexe), the man who elsewhere in the inventory is identified as Master Ercole’s son (e.g., in ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 [Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519], c. 44v). 40. ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 (Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516–1519), c. 35v : “Uno ventaglio picciolo [sic] novamente fatto per Maestro Alfonso orevexe, cioè tutto il corpo fatto d’oro batuto a fiori stampiti con uno quadreto da ogni canto [e?] nel mezo lavorati di filo con pasta di compositione, et il manico pur de oro batuto, circondato de pene de struzo negre.” B ­ ecause my reading of this passage differs from that of Luzio and Renier, I have modified the En­glish translation in Welch, “Art on the Edge,” 263, which is based on their transcription. 41. The commissioning of t­ hese gold buttons was first noted in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of March 16, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, c. 39), in which she mentioned Master Ercole’s habit of taking a long time to complete her o ­ rders. 42. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 19, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, c. 158): “Ho havuto la lettera de la excellentia vostra per il suo Cavallaro aposta con il bottone, et inteso quanto quella mi commette. Ho mandato per Alfonso figliuolo de Maestro Hercule orefice per non essere lui in la terra, et gli ho fatto intendere il desyderio di Vostra Illustrissima Signoria con darli la mostra del bottone, et con quella più destreza ch’io ho potuto l’ho exhortato anci astretto a fare quanto quella commanda, in modo che’l mi ha promesso servire. . . . ​Et se bene lo è giovene, certifico la Excellentia Vostra che non manco bene lavora di esso suo padre, & forsi ancho che’l fa meglio.” 43. As in Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of August 21, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 2994, lib. 18, c. 28v): “Laudiamo Maestro Hercule et lo figliolo de cossì elegante opera.” 44. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Ludovico Sforza of May 15, 1491 (ASMn, AG, busta 2904, lib. 136, c. 94r): “Nel mestere suo molto virtuoso et gentile.” 45. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of March 22, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, c. 40): “Il figliolo di Maestro Hercule.” 46. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 29, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, c. 159): “Ni il Maestro ha dormito, perché die e notte ha



NOTES TO PAGES 228–229

lavorato per servire Vostra Illustrissima Signoria con quella prestezza ch’ella desiderava.” 47. Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, 45, 62; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 190–191. 48. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 309. 49. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 14, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, c. 179). 50. Isabella d’Este’s letter to Girolamo Ziliolo of April 18, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, cc. 49 v–50r): “Perché forsi potresti stare in dubio che ritrovandoni in questo habito viduale, non volessimo più le maniglie che ni faceti fare, ni pare certificarvi che non debbiati restar per questo di farli sollicitare, et finire più presto si possi.” The maniglie ­were mentioned in Girolamo Ziliolo’s letters to Isabella d’Este regarding the buttons on March 19 and March 29, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, cc. 158, 159) and in Isabella’s letter to Ziliolo of March 22, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 2997, lib. 36, c. 40). 51. On the symbolic and ­legal implications of a ­woman’s transition to the status of being “in ­w idow’s habit,” see P. Renée Baernstein, “In ­Widow’s Habit: W ­ omen between Convent and F ­ amily in Sixteenth-­Century Milan,” Sixteenth ­Century Journal 25, no. 4 (Winter 1994): 787–807. 52. Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 79–80, 257. 53. Zaffanella, “Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo,” 216; Welch, Shopping in the Re­nais­sance, 251; Shemek, “Introduction,” 10–11. 54. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of April 19, 1519 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, c. 182). Deanna Shemek has noted “the state of flux, even turmoil,” of the Gonzaga chancery in the year and a half that followed Marquis Francesco’s death. Isabella d’Este’s copybooks for 1519–1520 are “in a state of relative disarray”; her letters from this period are “in a more compressed and less articulated hand that often fits four or five letters on one page, making them very difficult to read” (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 309, 438n360). Thus, our knowledge of Isabella’s commissions of luxury objects in this period is more l­ imited than that of her patronage ties with goldsmiths in previous years. 55. Laureati, “Da Borgia a Este,” 69–71. 56. See Chapters 10 and 11. 57. Gardner, The King of Court Poets, 147–159; Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 186n72. 58. Guerzoni, “The Italian Re­nais­sance Courts’ Demand for the Arts,” 63–65, 75n2, 77n20. 59. For his Jewry policies, see Di Leone Leoni, La nazione ebraica spagnola e portoghese di Ferrara, 1:35–40; Katz, The Jew in the Art of the Italian Re­nais­sance, 82–86. Although Alfonso authorized the institution of a Monte di pietà in

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NOTES TO PAGES 230–232

Ferrara in 1507, its establishment did not promote the expulsion of the Jews. Alfonso granted Sephardic and Ashkenazic Jews permission to s­ ettle in his duchy, and he is not known to have been involved in any case of Jewish conversion. C H A P T E R T W E N T Y  ​ ​G O L D P A W N E D T O T H E J E W S



1. Guerzoni, “Between Rome and Ferrara,” 66–70. 2. That Master Ercole’s wife and daughter-­in-­law referred to Cardinal Ippolito’s recent death in their supplication to Isabella d’Este of March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395) suggests his ongoing patronage ties with the baptized Jewish goldsmith. For his e­ arlier commissions from Salomone / Ercole, see Chapter 15. 3. On the cardinal’s return to Ferrara and death ­there see Lockwood, “Adrian Willaert and Cardinal Ippolito I d’Este,” 90. 4. As noted in the supplication sent on behalf of Master Ercole’s wife, Eleonora, and her daughter-­in-­law, Sapientia, to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). The balas ruby’s intended use is not specified in the supplication, but we know that Lucrezia Borgia’s maniglie ­were adorned with balas rubies (ASMo, CD, AP, no. 1139 [Inventario delle gioie e di altre robe di Lucrezia Borgia, 1516– 1519], c. 3). ­Because Master Ercole had not yet consigned the cuff bracelets he had promised to make for Isabella, it was plausibly meant to be used for the maniglie that he was making for her. For the balas rubies in Isabella’s possession, see Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 160; Daniela Ferrari, “L’inventario delle gioie,’ ” in Commentario al codice Stivini, ed. Iotti et al., 13–33; esp. 17, 30. 5. Luzio and Renier, Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, 54–58; Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 147–156; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 21, 315n17. 6. Thus, Benvenuto Cellini was accused of having stolen jewels from objects in the papal trea­sure that he was charged with melting down during the Sack of Rome (Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 168). 7. Supplication sent on behalf of Eleonora and Sapientia to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). Isabella was well aware of the particularly harsh conditions of winter imprisonment (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 46–47). 8. See Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 12; Black, Early Modern Italy, 196–197. 9. Like other Re­nais­sance rulers, Isabella regularly received suppliche asking for vari­ous kinds of grace and often granted them: Carolyn James, “Marriage by Correspondence: Politics and Domesticity in the Letters of Isa-



NOTES TO PAGES 232–235

bella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 1490–1519,” Re­nais­sance Quarterly 65, no. 2 (Summer 2012): 321–352; esp. 335; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, 61–62. 10. Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 173–174, 180; Cecilia Nubola, “Supplications between Politics and Justice: The Northern and Central Italian States in the Early Modern Age,” in Petitions in Social History, ed. Lex Heerma van Voss (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 35–56; esp. 35–36, 47. 11. Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308; Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 202– 203. See also Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131; Gregori, In the Light of Apollo, 402. 12. ­These errors first appeared in Yriarte, Autour des Borgia, 205, 209, and are repeated in Gruyer, L’art ferrarais, 1:577; Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia, 350–351; Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131–132. A notable exception is Bertolotti (Le arti minori, 238), who draws directly on Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 307–308. 13. See Nubola, “Supplications between Politics and Justice,” 47–48; Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 173–174. 14. Isabella occasionally intervened in ­favor of ­women and ­children in need, by negotiating p ­ ardons for their male relatives who had been sentenced to severe punishments and opposing the abuse of their property rights. A few years l­ ater, she also pawned her jewelry to help out impoverished ­w idows and orphans during a plague outbreak (Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. and trans. Shemek, 22, 34, 116, 169, 195, 339, 444, 468; Malacarne, Fruscianti vestimenti e scintillanti gioie, 156). 15. She was already married and pregnant with her first child in 1478, so assuming that like other d ­ aughters of Jewish moneylenders she was wedded in her late teens (Toaff, Il vino e la carne, 33; Weinstein, Marriage Rituals Italian Style, 57–67), in 1521 she would have been at least sixty years old. 16. On the contribution of goldsmiths’ wives to the work in their husbands’ workshops, see Pini, Oreficeria e potere a Bologna, 32–33; Cherry, Medieval Craftsmen, 60. For the wives of premodern craftsmen in general, see Jones, “Public and Private Space,” 248–255; Reyerson, “Urban Economies,” 303–304. 17. Supplication sent on behalf of Eleonora and Sapientia to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [“Ferrara. Diversi”], c. 395). 18. Prisoners in Re­nais­sance Italy w ­ ere required to provide for their upkeep (Chambers and Dean, Clean Hands and Rough Justice, 246; Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 174; Black, Early Modern Italy, 197). 19. This wording suggests that Eleonora and Sapientia did not know precisely which precious materials w ­ ere pawned by their kinsmen, but w ­ ere aware of their estimated value.

367

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20. Supplication sent on behalf of Eleonora and Sapientia to Isabella d’Este on March 2, 1521 (ASMn, AG, busta 1247, fasc. XVII [Ferrara. Diversi], c. 395): “A pedi di Vostra Excellentia piissima, recureno li poveri e infelici servitori di quella, Eleonora madre, e Sapientia mogliere de Alfonso de Maestro Hercule de Fideli orevexe e sei figliolini inutili de dicto Alfonso, e anche tre sorelle de detto Alfonso da maridare, exponendo qualche superiori tempore el Magnifico Messer Hieronymo Ziliolo, in nome de vostra excellentia dese a dicto Maestro Hercule padre de dicto Alfonso ducati quaranta octo d’oro in oro, ad fine che dicto Maestro Hercule li colasse, e facesse certi botoni, on altri lavoreri per Vostra Excelentia, el quale Maestro Hercule havuti dicti ducati, ne dese dexedoto a dicto Alfonso e altri dexedoto a Ferante soi figlioli ad fine che loro li lavorasseno, e il resto retene dicto Maestro Hercule per lavorarli, et così detto Hercule e soi figlioli comencarono a lavorarli. Et di poi essendo dicti padre e figlioli reducti in extrema necessitate del vivere, gli fue forza impegnare a li Judei dicti lavoreri, li quali mai per la povertade e impossibilitade loro, li hanno potuto smaltare ne darli a Vostra Signoria Clementissima, se non certo balasso on altra cosa de prezio de ducati diece d’oro. Hora che mo po essere uno mexe et più, che dicto Alfonso, a nome di Vostra Excellentia è sta destenuto et inpregionato in le prigione de la Cità de Ferrara, per cagione de dicti lavoreri, et lìe è, ne mai spera lui ne li suppliche ch’l possa uscirne, se Vostra Signoria piissima non se move a misericordia e compassione de farlo relaxare, perché non ha modo alcuno de satisfare a quella, e pegio è, per haverlo se starà lìe perché non poterà guadagnare cosa alcuna, dove el possa satisfare a Vostra Excellentia et provedere a nui povereti del vivere e ala grandissima miseria nostra in la quale se retroviamo. Come po pensare Vostra Signoria che siamo destituti da ogni subsidio per essere dicto Alfonso in prigione, e dicti Hercule e Ferrante absenti da la cità de Ferrara, senza che ne diano alcuno subsidio, e in effetto ne serià forza elimosinare, se voremo vivere, perché hormai havemo consumpto quello pocho che se retrovamo havere si in fare le spexe del vivere a dicto Alfonso inprigionato, si etiam per lo nostro vivere. Per tanto facemo ricorso a pedi di Vostra Signoria Clementissima effundendo lacrime e pregi quanto potiamo, che per opera di pietade on misericordia e per lo amore de dio, e per elemosina e in rimessione per l’anima de la felice memoria del Signore Cardinale vostro fratello, se voglia dignare di fare relaxare de prigione el dicto Alfonso, attenso anche che lui non è culpevole del tuto e attenso che se’l piace a Vostra Signoria el venirà qui in Mantua ad lavorare tanto ch’l satisfasi a quella de li soi guadagni, dando in una particella ali figliolini per subventione del suo vivere. Ah, Madama Illustrissima, di novo pregamo Vostra Excellentia se digni farne tale grazie como è dicto, che se Vostra Signoria considerarà la miseria nostra che siamo tante persone senza roba alcuna e guadagno, e che habiamo solamente quello poveretto Alfonso, non dubitamo che mossa ad compassione



21.

22. 23. 24.

25. 26. 27. 28.

NOTES TO PAGES 237–242

ce conoberà quanto adimandamo, e lo omnipotente Idio remunererà Vostra Excellentia di tale opera, e nui lo pregheremo per quella.” As Natalie Zemon Davis convincingly shows in her analy­sis of p ­ ardon tales addressed to the king of France in Fiction in the Archives: ­Pardon Tales and Their Tellers in Sixteenth-­Century France (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1987), esp. 1–25. Nubola (“Supplications between Politics and Justice,” 52) notes that no standard procedure for drafting suppliche directed at Italian rulers existed in the early modern era, due to the considerable differences in the l­egal traditions and judicial practices of the vari­ous states of central and northern Italy. All Italian suppliche, however, “had to re­spect and comply with certain rules of conduct, which ­were both symbolic as well as eminently strategic and practical” (Nubola, 37). Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 173n62; Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 11. Nubola, “Supplications between Politics and Justice,” 51. Taylor, “Silver and Gold,” 183; Nubola, “Supplications between Politics and Justice,” 47–48. L ­ ater in the sixteenth c­ entury, Cellini had a supplication sent to Cosimo de’ Medici, arguing that the time he spent in jail would have been better used for carving a marble crucifix for the duke (Rossi, “The Writer and the Man,” 173–174). See Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 16; Nubola, “Supplications between Politics and Justice,” 51. Girolamo Ziliolo’s letter to Isabella d’Este of March 12, 1516 (ASMn, AG, busta 1246, c. 187). See Chapters 15–16. As Kathryn A. Edwards (“Purgatory,” in Oxford Biblio­graphies in Re­nais­sance and Reformation, ed. Margaret L. King [New York: Oxford University Press, 2015], published online: http://­w ww​.­oxfordbibliographies​.­com​/­v iew​ /­document​/­obo ​-­9780195399301​/­obo ​-­9780195399301​- ­0 083​. ­x ml​?­r skey​ =­f GByCJ&result​=1 ­ &q​= ­purgatory#firstMatch; accessed September  1, 2018) puts it, in fifteenth-­century Eu­rope “good works’ benefits . . . ​could even be assigned to ­others, living or dead. By the early sixteenth ­century, abuses in the theology . . . ​triggered some of the earliest ‘Protestant’ writings, like the [1517] Ninety-­Five ­Theses. Soon, t­ hose who became Protestant rejected purgatory and individual influence over salvation. . . . ​Purgatory, its doctrinal foundation, and pious manifestations would eventually become a central feature distinguishing Catholic and Protestant in early modern Eu­rope.” EPILOGUE

1. Bulgari, Argentieri gemmari e orafi d’Italia, pt. 4, Emilia, 350; Guido Guerzoni, “Fornitori della Guardadroba ducale, 1529–1534,” https://­w ww​ .­a cademia ​.­edu​/­2937923​/­Suppliers ​_­Wardrobe ​_ ­E ste ​_ ­Dukes ​_­1529 ​-­1534

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(accessed January 4, 2018). On this database, see Guerzoni, Apollo and Vulcan, 64, 185nn51, 55. 2. Cited in Cittadella, Notizie relative a Ferrara, 694: “M.o Ferdinando del fu Ercole Fedeli di Ferrara, pure orefice.” See also Angelucci, Cata­logo della armeria reale, 308. 3. See especially Picca, Ercole de’ Fedeli e la regina delle spade; Bianco, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 131–132; Nonato, “Ercole dei Fedeli,” 74–78. 4. Salomone was certainly not unique in consenting to baptism u ­ nder duress, although cases of Jews who resisted conversion even when baptism was their only alternative to a violent death ­were also not unknown. For such Italian cases, see Prosperi, “La Chiesa e gli ebrei,” 178; Ioly Zorattini, “Sephardic Settlement in Ferrara,” 8. On other parts of the early modern world, see Myriam Bodian, ­D ying in the Law of Moses: Crypto-­Jewish Martyrdom in the Iberian World (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007). For medieval pre­ce­dents, see Bodian, 1–22; Simha Goldin, The Ways of Jewish Martyrdom (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008); Ram Ben-­Shalom, “Jewish Martyrdom and Conversion in Sepharad and Ashkenaz in the M ­ iddle Ages: An Assessment of the Reassessment,” Tarbiz 71 (2001): 279–300 [in Hebrew]. 5. Master Ercole’s letters to Isabella d’Este of October 14, 1504 (ASMn, AG, busta 1890, c. 187) and August 17, 1505 (ASMn, AG, busta 1240, c. 334). 6. On the modern debates among scholars of religion concerning the priority to be accorded to one over the other, see Moshe Sluhovsky, Becoming a New Self: Practices of Belief in Early Modern Catholicism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017), 6–12. 7. ­Trials of alleged Judaizers in early modern Italy w ­ ere relatively few in number, especially when compared with their abundance in Iberia. Nonetheless, Italian inquisitors appear to have been particularly concerned with the danger of converts who reverted to Judaism precisely during Salomone / Ercole’s first de­cade as a Catholic, following the arrival of exiled Spanish Jews and Portuguese marranos—­who heightened concerns over the genuineness of conversions procured u ­ nder duress—in Italian lands in the 1490s. See Anna Foa, “Limpieza versus Mission: Church, Religious ­Orders, and Conversion in the Sixteenth C ­ entury,” in Friars and Jews in the ­Middle Ages and Re­nais­sance, ed. Steven J. McMichael and Susan E. Myers (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 299–311; Michael Tavuzzi, Re­nais­sance Inquisitors: Dominican Inquisitors and Inquisitorial Districts in Northern Italy, 1474–1527 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 139–148. 8. For converts from Judaism in early modern Italy who w ­ ere suspected of Judaizing or of other crimes against the faith, see Adriano Prosperi, “Ebrei a Pisa: Dalle carte dell’Inquisizione Romana,” in Gli ebrei di Pisa (secoli IX–­ XX): Atti del Convegno internazionale Pisa, 3–4 Ottobre 1994, ed. Michele Luz-





NOTES TO PAGE 243

zati (Pisa: Pacini, 1998), 117–157; esp. 151–153; Mazur, Conversion to Catholicism in Early Modern Italy, 76–80; Stow, “A Tale of Uncertainties,” 260; and the cases in Ioly Zorattini, Pro­cessi del S. Uffizio di Venezia contro ebrei e giudaizzanti, vol. 1; Pullan, The Jews of Eu­rope and the Inquisition of Venice. 9. As Margaret R. Hunt reminds us in her article “Social Roles and Individual Identities,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Modern Eu­ro­pean History, ed. Scott, 1:342–368; esp. 365: “­People may always have had an inner life, and certainly they have striven both to live with and to evade the expectations life places upon them. But by its very nature this intricate and sometimes secretive per­for­mance is hard to study, ­there is a ­great deal still to discover, and t­ here is much that can never be known.”

371

A C K N O W L­E D G M E N T S

This book owes its inception to an invitation that I received from Sheila Barker, in August 2013, to participate in a conference on nuns and artistic production. I had not worked on nun artists before, but as I was ­going over my photocopies from the Archivio Storico Diocesano in Ferrara, I came across documentation recording the ac­cep­tance of the convert Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, d ­ aughter of the baptized Jew Ercole the goldsmith, into a convent. At that time, I was just beginning my fellowship year at Villa I Tatti, and the wonderful collections of the Berenson Library held all the historical and art historical studies I needed for identifying this goldsmith as Salomone da Sesso / Ercole de’ Fedeli, one of the greatest Jewish artists of the Italian Re­nais­sance. As I continued to find more and more information about his dramatic life, what began as a conference paper turned into a book-­length study. Villa I Tatti was the ideal place for delving deep into the convert’s tale, providing the perfect intellectual setting for venturing into new terrains far removed from areas that I had studied previously. I thank Lino Pertile for his interest in my research and for illuminating discussions of some of the more enigmatic documents that I discovered in 2013–2014, and Allen J. Grieco, Jonathan Nelson, and Michael Rocke for their helpful suggestions. Stimulating conversations with fellow Tattiani Davide Baldi, Kate Bentz, Angelo Cattaneo, Maria DePrano, Emily Michelson, Cecilia Muratori, Eugenio Refini, and Daniel Stein-­ Kokin encouraged me to pursue this study. Getting to know the wonderful staff of the Medici Archive Proj­ect was one of the other highlights of spending a year in Florence. Alessio Assonitis’s perceptive suggestions helped me to formulate some of the main ideas in this book. Maurizio Arfaioli discussed Salomone / Ercole’s 373

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A cknowl­edgments

swords with me and introduced me to Marco Merlo, whose expert advice on Re­nais­sance armor is gratefully acknowledged. Matteo Duni, Shulamit Furstenberg-­Levi, Adelisa Malena, and Carlo Pulsoni all provided much-­ appreciated insights at critical stages of this research. Back at Tel Aviv University, Benjamin Arbel, Naama Cohen-­ Hanegbi, Miriam Eliav-­Feldon, David Katz, Aviad Kleinberg, Yossi Mali, Yael Sternhell, and Inbar Strul-­Dabull patiently listened to my incessant ruminations about religious conversion and sexual deviance for several years, answering infinite questions about premodern occupational ­hazards, ­women’s ­wills, theologies of baptism, and much more. Sefy Hendler never seemed to tire of my queries about goldsmithery and other art historical aspects of this study. The wonderful students in my gradu­ate seminar The Age of Religious Conversion afforded ample opportunities for thought-­provoking discussions. I profited from the comments of participants in the following workshops and conferences: “Artiste nel chiostro: Produzione artistica nei monasteri femminili in età moderna” (Florence); “The Eigh­teenth Israeli Text and Context Workshop” (Zikhron Ya’akov); “The Re­nais­sance of Letters” (Stanford Humanities Center); “Coming to Terms with Forced Conversion” (Consejos Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, Madrid); “L’identità minacciata—­La diversità minacciosa” (Centro Italo-­Tedesco per l’Eccelenza Europea, Menaggio); “The Re­nais­sance of Origins: Beginnings, Genesis, and Creation in the Art of the 15th–16th Centuries” (Institut national d’histoire de l’art, Paris); “Re­nais­sance Ferrara: New Directions and Interpretations” (the Warburg Institute, London); the annual meeting of the Sixteenth C ­ entury Society and Conference in New Orleans; and the annual meetings of the Re­nais­sance Society of Amer­i­ca in Boston and Chicago. In par­tic­u­lar, I wish to acknowledge the impor­tant suggestions of Ram Ben-­Shalom, Molly Bourne, Giorgio Caravale, Bernard Cooperman, Paula Findlen, Mercedes García-­Arenal Rodríguez, Yonatan Glazer-­ Eytan, Sarah  F. Matthews Grieco, Isabelle Poutrin, Elchanan Reiner, Stefano Villani, Israel Yuval, and Shai Zamir. I am thankful to Kenneth Stow for sending many useful references on Italian Jewish life, and to Elisabeth Borgolotto Zetland and Elisabetta Traniello for sharing their work on the Da Sessa and Finzi families with me. Elizabeth Bemis generously sent me her unpublished dissertation as well as photos and references regarding the “Queen of



A cknowl­edgments

Swords.” Massimo Carlo Giannini assisted with obtaining the latest study of this sword. I thank the dedicated staff at the Archivio di Stato di Ferrara, Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Archivio Storico Comunale di Ferrara, Archivio Storico Diocesano di Ferrara, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, and Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze. A special debt of gratitude is owed to Mirna Bonazza and the staff of the Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea (Ferrara), to Patrizia Cremonini and the archivists at the Archivio di Stato di Modena, and to Giorgio Marcon of the Archivio di Stato di Bologna, for ­going out of their way to facilitate my archival research. My enduring thankfulness to the staff of the Archivio di Stato di Mantova, and especially to former director Daniela Ferrari, current director Luisa Onesta Tamassia, and archivist Franca Maestrini, for the warm welcome that I have received in this stupendous archive for many years. Grazie di cuore to my Ferrarese friend Guido Dall’Olio, for his precious help with all ­things having to do with his hometown—­from accessing archives to photographing local monuments. Diane Ghirardo gave me indispensable advice, kindly sharing her vast knowledge of Re­nais­sance Ferrara, and then reading and commenting on the entire manuscript. Moshe Sluhovsky’s invaluable feedback on an early version of the manuscript convinced me to fine-­t une some of my contentions. The detailed reports of the two anonymous readers for Harvard University Press greatly helped me to improve the final version. I am indebted to the series editor of I Tatti Studies in Italian Re­ nais­sance History, Kate Lowe, and to Andrew Kinney, Olivia Woods, and the staff at Harvard University Press for seeing the book through the publication pro­cess. Thanks are also due to Sara Tropper, Susan Ecklund, and Melody Negron for their careful editorial work. In addition to Villa I Tatti’s Jean-­François Malle Fellowship, I am grateful to the Israel Science Foundation (grant no.  389 / 15) for funding my research on Jewish conversion and the monachization of baptized Jews, and to Tel Aviv University’s School of Historical Studies for its research and publication grants.

375

INDEX

Abeles, Simon, 279n42 Abrabanel, Jacob (Alfonso), 306n33 Abram, son of Datilo of Cologna, 115, 313n15 Abramo “the card player.” See Tusolo di Mandolino, Abramo (“the card player”) Alberti, Leon Battista, 47 Alexander VI, Pope, 2, 134–135, 139, 144, 167 Alfonso (son of Salomone / Ercole). See Graziadio (Alfonso) (son of Salomone / Ercole) Ambrogio, son of Pietro of Milan, 23 Andalò, Learco, 136 Andreasi, Osanna, 213 Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, 15, 18, 33–34, 37, 45, 46, 130–131, 149, 272n21, 320n4 Angelo di Vitale, 48–52, 55, 62–63, 78–88, 128, 244 Angelucci, Angelo, 232, 283n20, 308n46 Anna (­d aughter of Salomone / Ercole): baptism of, 113; date of birth, 325n9; as donzella of Lucrezia Borgia, 138, 140, 142, 143, 258n41; marriage of, 141, 143, 201–202; name of, 99, 307n41, 325n9; postmarriage life of, 202; and social benefits of conversion, 144–145 D’Annunzio, Gabriele, 132

anti-­Judaism: and bull issued by Benedict XIII, 123–124; and confinement of Jews during Holy Week, 37; impact on Salomone, 15; in Mantua, 44; stirred up by Fra Mariano da Genazzano, 90 Antonio, son of Cristoforo, 24 Antonio, son of Raffaele, 24 Augustine, St., 77 baby girl, murder of, 38–39, 41, 44, 63 badges, 209, 215 Bagnacavallo, Francesco. See Francesco da Bagnacavallo Bagnacavallo, Vincenzo. See Vincenzo da Bagnacavallo balas rubies, 230–231, 234–235, 366n4 Banco dei Sabbioni, 114–115 Banco della Ripa (or Riva), 130 Bandelli, Vincenzo, di Castelnuovo, 159 baptism: gender spiritual equality offered by, 96; of Jews in Umbria, 252n12; number of godparents allowed to take part in, 309n64; rite of, 101–102, 104; sacramental nature of, 70, 72–73, 79, 83, 85–86, 89. See also conversion baptismal names, 67–68, 95, 98–101, 292n58, 306nn32,33 Bardolini, Ermolao, 50, 51, 55–56, 80, 83

377

378 I N D E X

Bartolomeo, son of Ambrogio of Milan, 23 Bartolomeo della Rovere, 101–102 Beatrice, ­Sister, 160 Bellonci, Maria, 342n77 Bemis, Elizabeth, 134–135 Benedetto of Mantua, 154, 156 Benedict XIII, Pope, 123, 124 Bevilacqua, Antonia, 74, 75, 77, 99 Bianco, Roberta, 134, 184 blacksmithery, 23–24, 264n12, 312n6 Blair, Claude, 132 Boccaccino, Boccaccio, 197, 349n5 Boiardi, Laura, ­Sister, 211–212, 213, 356n36 Bologna, 15–17, 21, 23, 72, 123, 261nn62,63, 263n74 Bonaventura (Mantuan Jew), 55–56, 62, 63, 66, 80 Bonfil, Robert, 263n75 Bonvesin, Alessandro, 141, 142 Bonvesin, Carlo (“Il Barone”), 141, 174, 340n70 Borgia, Cesare, 132, 133f, 134–136, 142, 165, 215 Borgia, Giovanni, 224, 225–226 Borgia, Lucrezia, 198f; death of, 229, 230; decrease in commissions from, 210–211; enameled jewelry of, 362–363n25; Graziadio / Alfonso as goldsmith working for, 226–227; Graziadio / Alfonso’s relationship to, 142–143; Joseph / Ferrante as goldsmith working for, 223; marriage of, 139; marriage of damsels of, 141, 200–202; referred to as Duchess of Ferrara, 337n35; relationship with Isabella d’Este, 167; Salomone / ­Ercole as court goldsmith of, 197–200, 208–210, 214, 215, 223–226, 350n13; and Santa Caterina da Siena, 146–147, 159–160; se­lection of attendants of, 138, 139–142, 143–144, 326nn21,23

Borsieri, Girolamo of Como, 265n16 bracelets, commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 163, 165–178, 183–192, 195–196, 203, 224–225, 228, 342n77, 343n86, 344n5 Brocadelli, Lucia of Narni, ­Sister, 146, 152–155, 158, 161, 332n46 Bulgari, Constantino, 122 buttons, gold, 196, 197, 225–226, 228 Caio, Anna Antonia (­d aughter of Stella and Elia), 73–77, 88, 94–96, 98–99, 100–106, 294n21 Caio, Elia, 74–77, 99, 101 Caio, Stella, 74–77, 99, 101 Calisto da la Penna, 142 Cantino, Alberto, 142, 202 Carlebach, Elisheva, 42 Cassandra (Eleonora of Aragon’s lady-­in-­waiting), 48, 283n21 Castel Goffredo, 19–20 Castel Vecchio (Ferrara), 168, 187–188, 190 Caterina Maria, S ­ ister, 332n49 Caterina  / ­Sister Theodora (­daughter of Salomone / Ercole): baptism of, 100–101, 113, 156; death of, 160, 204–206, 353n49; dowry for, 148–149; life in Santa Caterina de Siena, 161; name of, 34, 100–101, 157, 159–160; profession ceremony of, 157–158; and social benefits of conversion, 145; as too old to be a donzella, 140; vestition of, 147–148, 149, 150, 152, 153–156 Cavalli, Zilfredo de’, 88–90 Cellini, Benvenuto, 50, 61, 69, 286n59, 339n51, 366n6, 369n24 Cesare of Verona, 88, 89, 96 Cestarelli, Filippo, 74, 76, 295n29 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, 210, 363n28 ­children: conversion of, 94–95, 99, 144, 279n42; emancipation of, 188–189;

INDEX

goldsmith work done by, 172; in need, 367n14; murdered, 38–42, 44, 63, 108–109 cinquedea swords, 132–136, 323n38. See also “Queen of Swords” Cinuzzi, Alessandro, 61 circumcision, 95, 96 clemency, offered in exchange for conversion, 70–73 Codegori, Bartolomeo, 130–131 cofanetto (bridal casket), 32 Consola (­d aughter of Bonaventura di Emanuele of Volterra), 150 convents: baptized Jewesses in, 150, 160–161, 333n58; choir s­ isters and converse in, 147–148, 154, 329nn12,13; dowry required for entering, 147, 148–150; funerals in, 205–206; involvement in patronage, 211–213; life expectancy within, 160; naming practices in, 157, 159–160, 332n49, 333n63; profession ceremonies in, 158; vestition ceremonies in, 147, 153–156, 158. See also San Bernardino, convent (Ferrara); San ­L orenzo, convent (Bologna); Santa Caterina da Siena, convent (Ferrara); Santa Chiara, convent (Volterra); Santissima Annunziata all’Arco dei Pantani, convent (Rome) conversion: assimilation following, 162–163; of Caio ­d aughter, 73–77, 94, 95–96, 98–99, 100–106, 294n21; of ­children, 94–95, 99, 144, 279n42; clemency offered in exchange for, 70–73; of convicted criminals, 78–90; forced or coerced, 77, 81, 128, 244, 295n42, 370n4; of Jews, 67–68, 70–73, 93–94, 124, 151–152, 244–245, 273n41, 370n4; to Judaism, 370n7; perceptions of Jews following, 186–187; of Salomone / Ercole, 1–2, 6, 66–69, 78–92, 93–109; of slaves,

293n3; social benefits of, 131, 144–145, 149–150, 178–179, 218, 246 Conzari, Francesco di, 150 Costabili, Antonio, 116, 117, 335n86, 349n5 “Cremaschino, Il,” 84 curfew, during Holy Week, 37–38 Curialti, Matteo, 25, 127, 265–266nn22 Dalaro, Nicolò, 142, 202 damsels. See donzelle Daniel, 102–104, 108 Daniele of Carpi, 51 David di Ventura, 25 Davidson, Nicholas, 290n37 Davis, Natalie Zemon, 300n50 death sentences, 72–73, 79–90, 96–98, 290n37 Decio, Filippo, 71 disegno, 173, 212–213, 340n64 donzelle (damsels): Anna selected as Lucrezia Borgia’s, 140, 142, 143; financial benefits of, 141; marriages of, 141, 200–202; se­lection of Lucrezia Borgia’s, 139–142, 143–144, 326nn21,23; and social benefits of conversion, 144–145 dowries, 14, 26, 27, 34–35, 143, 147, 148–150, 201, 218, 255n9 ecclesiastical wares, 121–124, 158, 162, 334n72 Edwards, Kathryn A., 369n28 Eleonora (wife of Salomone / Ercole): age of, in 1521, 367n15; background of, 17; baptismal name of, 98, 99; baptism of, 113; ­children of, 3f, 17, 258nn35,41; duties of, 18, 234–235; marriage of, 234, 258n35; supplication of, to Isabella d’Este, 232–239, 241, 368–369n20; and vestition of Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, 155–156 Eleonora of Aragon: and arrest of Angelo di Vitale, 50; on Caio

379

380 I N D E X

Eleonora of Aragon (continued) ­ daughter, 95–96; and conversion of Angelo di Vitale, 79; and conversion of Caio ­d aughter, 74, 76, 77, 98–99; and conversion of Salomone, 2, 78, 91–92, 94, 105–106; death of, 119–120; descendants of, 5f; on executions of Niccolò and Cesare of Verona, 96–97; and pardoning of Salomone, 69, 269n2; relationship with Fra Mariano da Genazzano, 89; requests return of Salomone, 36–37; Salomone / Ercole as court goldsmith for, 28, 30–37, 48, 113–114; on Salomone / Ercole’s baptismal oration, 107; on Salomone’s sodomy charge, 59, 64, 65 Eligius, St. (Sant’Eligio), 23 Ellenbog, Ulrich, 170 emancipation of sons, 188–189 Emanuele di Bonaiuto of Camerino, 18 Emanuele di Bonaventura of Volterra, 18, 25–26, 266n29 enamels, 171, 174, 207–208, 339n51, 362–363n25 engraved swords, 131–138, 323n38, 324n48 episcopal stole, 104 Este, Alfonso I d’: and conversion of Salomone, 94; diplomacy of, 225–226, 324n48; excommunication of, 210; financial prob­lems of, 229; imprisons Graziadio / Alfonso, 188–190; imprisons Salomone /  Ercole, 187–188, 189–190; indifference of, to fate of Salomone / Ercole and ­family, 229; and maniglie commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 170–172, 173, 175, 178, 190; marriage of, 139; relationship with Ferrarese Jews, 365–366n59; source of swords belonging to, 134 Este, Beatrice d’, 47 Este, Eleonora d’, 224

Este, Ercole I d’: anti-­Jewish mea­sures instituted by, 331n35; and attendants of Lucrezia Borgia, 140–141, 143–144; and conversion in exchange for clemency, 73; and conversion of Caio ­d aughter, 76, 77; on conversion of Christian criminals, 89–90; and conversion of Salomone, 2, 91, 94–95; dealings with Abramo Tusolo, 115–117, 119; death of, 188, 192; and death sentence of Angelo di Vitale, 83, 84, 86; descendants of, 5f; diplomatic gifts given by, 324n48; ecclesiastical wares commissioned by, 121–122, 123, 124, 162; employs Salomone / Ercole, 120; and Holy Week curfew for Ferrarese Jews, 37–38; and Jewish conversions, 151–152; and marriage of Alfonso d’Este, 139; and murder of Zilfredo de’ Cavalli, 88, 90; as pro-­French, 137–138; relationship with Fra Mariano da Genazzano, 89; Salomone / Ercole retains ­favor of, 130; and Santa Caterina da Siena, 146–147, 150, 152–155, 158–159; source of swords belonging to, 134; stance on sodomy, 64–65, 150–151; welcomes Jewish exiles, 125 Este, Ferrante (Ferdinanto) d’, 5f, 91 Este, Ippolito I d’, 5f, 166, 167, 203, 230, 239, 366n2 Este, Isabella d’, 164f; advocates ­pardon of Bartolomeo Tromboncino, 292n66; badges commissioned by, 209; bracelets commissioned by, 163–178, 183–192, 195–196, 224, 225, 342n77, 343n86, 344n5, 365n54, 366n4; commissions work from Graziadio / Alfonso, 227–228; and conversion of Angelo di Vitale, 79–80; and conversion of Salomone, 78; correspondence of, 199; and death sentence of Angelo di Vitale,

INDEX

83, 84; and donzelle of Lucrezia Borgia, 141, 200–201; employs Andrea Mantegna, 194; Francesco da Bagnacavallo’s letter to, 1–2, 249n1; gold buttons commissioned by, 196, 197; on hypothetically entering convent, 333n59; impact of Italian Wars on, 211; intervenes in ­favor of ­women and ­children in need, 367n14; intervenes on behalf of Davide Finzi, 46, 47; and Mantuan Jews’ complaints against Salomone, 128–129; pomander cover commissioned by, 215–217, 221–223, 361n6; rec­ords of, 365n54; refuses Battista Guarino’s d ­ aughter as damsel, 326n15; relationship with goldsmiths, 53–55; relationship with Bernardino de’ Prosperi, 41; relationship with Lucrezia Borgia, 167; relationship with Salomone /  Ercole, 124–125; rosichiero requested from, 207–208; Salomone / Ercole pawns valuables of, 231–232, 235–236, 313n12; as Salomone / Ercole’s main patron, 230–231; and Salomone’s exemption from Holy Week curfew, 37–38, 274–275n10, 276n21; sends Salomone back to Eleonora, 36–37; stays informed regarding plague, 196; supplication to, for release of Graziadio / Alfonso, 232–239, 241, 368–369n20; tondi remade for, 211–215, 356n33, 358n58; tries to obtain Hebrew codices, 128; votto commissioned by, 200, 203–205 Este, Nicolò III d’, 60 Este, Rainaldo d’, 94, 104, 304n10 Este, Sigismondo d’, 119, 148, 315n33 Evangelisti, Silvia, 149 executions, 72–73, 79–90, 96–98, 290n37

exorcism, 101–102, 104 Ezekiel, 102–104 facial disfigurement, 75 fans, 223, 224, 226 Fanti, Alessandro, 150 Farachio, Samuel ben Nissim (Flavius Mithridates) (Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada), 66 Farissol, Abraham ben Mordecai, 66, 106 Fedeli, Gian Giacomo de’. See Simele da Montagnana (Gian Giacomo de’ Fedeli) Fedeli, Ercole de’. See Salomone da Sesso (Ercole de’ Fedeli) Feraguto, Andrea, 142 Ferrante (Ferdinando) (son of Salomone / Ercole). See Joseph (Ferrante or Ferdinando) (son of Salomone / Ercole) Ferrante I of Aragon, 270n5 Ferrara: executions in, 290n37; prosecution of sodomy in, 64–65, 150–151; Ricca as pos­si­ble resident of, 271n11; Salomone travels to, 28–29; separation of goldsmiths and blacksmiths in, 264n12; spread of plague in, 196–197 Finzi, Angelo (Arcangelo Maria), 67–68, 292nn61, 62 Finzi, Davide, 46–47, 51, 258n38 Finzi, Fiore, 281–282n9 Finzi, Joseph of Lendinara (maternal grand­father of Salomone / Ercole), 4f, 13–14, 16, 51, 67, 68, 255n6, 272n27 Finzi, Ricca (­mother of Salomone /  Ercole): ­family of, 4f, 258n37; marriage of, 13–14; moves to Bologna, 15–17; moves to Florence, 14; patrimony of, 33; possibly relocates to Ferrara, 271n11; relationship with parish priest in Bologna, 316–317n14;

381

382 I N D E X

Finzi, Ricca (continued) testament of, 23, 24–28, 130–131, 259n42, 266nn28,30 Finzi, Stella (maternal grand­mother of Salomone / Ercole), 4f, 13, 18, 67, 259n48 Finzi, Zinatan, 17 Flavio de Bonis, Ermes, 20, 22, 24, 61, 62, 136, 212, 262n69 Florence, 13–15, 126–128 Franceschini, Andrea, 304n14 Francesco da Bagnacavallo: on Caio girl, 96, 104–105; employment of, 277n30; on executions of Niccolò and Cesare of Verona, 97–98; on Salomone / Ercole’s baptism, 1–2, 94, 249n1; on Salomone / Ercole’s baptismal oration, 39–40, 41, 108, 109 Francis I, King, 225–226 Fructe, Gaspare delle, 75, 76 funerals, 205–206 gambling, 26, 29, 115–117, 119, 218–220, 266n31 games of chance. See gambling garzoni (assistants), 37, 55, 61 Gentile (­Sister Angelica), 150 Gentile, Pietro da Camerino, 48–49, 61 Ghirardo, Diane, 363n26 Giacomino of Cremona, 35, 114 Giovanni, son of Stefano of Milan, 23 Giovanni Francesco da Sarzana, Fra, 213 godparenthood, 104–105, 170–171, 229, 309n64 goldsmithery, 18; apprenticeship in, 176–177, 342n80; association between moneylending and, 18–19, 261n58; disegno in, 173, 340n64; as elite trade, 18–19, 219; and engraved swords, 131–138; 215–216; and identity of Salomone / Ercole, 131; 288n14; in Mantua, 28; and production of

ecclesiastical wares, 121–124; Salomone’s training in, 20–21, 22–23 goldsmiths: as artists, 18; daily life of, 184; financial success of, 218; fraud charges against, 52–53, 55; Gonzagas’ relationships with, 53–55; health h ­ azards of, 170, 200; homes and workshops of, 172; implicated in sodomy, 61–62; professional demands of, 245 goldsmiths’ guilds, 19, 21, 312n6. See also guilds Gonzaga, Federico I (­father of Francesco II), 185, 186 Gonzaga, Federico II (son of Francesco II), 211, 214–215, 228 Gonzaga, Francesco II: accuses Salomone of fraud, 44, 52–53, 55–56, 203; and arrest of Angelo di Vitale, 50–52; banishes Salomone / Ercole from Mantua, 128, 129, 130, 200, 310– 311n80; and conversion of Salomone, 78–79; dealings with Abramo Tusolo, 116–119; death of, 228, 365n54; and death sentence of Angelo di Vitale, 80–85, 86; and discovery of murdered baby, 39; intervenes on behalf of Deodato Norsa, 45–46; marriage to Isabella d’Este, 36; relationship with goldsmiths, 53–55; requests Salomone’s exemption from Holy Week curfew, 37, 274–275n10, 276n21; Salomone employed by, 20, 28; on Salomone’s upsetting of Jewish society, 43; and works commissioned from Salomone / Ercole, 44, 133 Gonzaga, Ludovico, 19–20 Grana, Giovanni Francesco della, 204, 207 Graziadio (Alfonso) (son of Salomone /  Ercole): accepts commissions from Isabella d’Este, 227–228; baptismal name of, 98; baptism of, 94–95, 99,

INDEX

101–104, 105–106, 259n42; ­children of, 113, 222, 235–236, 360n85; as goldsmith working for Lucrezia Borgia, 223, 224–225, 226–227; imprisonment of, 188–190, 191, 232–234, 235–238, 241; knowledge regarding, 113; and maniglie commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 170– 171, 172, 174, 176; negotiates terms of commission with Isabella d’Este, 200; nickname of, 304n14; pawns valuables received from Isabella d’Este, 231–232, 235–236; possibly accompanies Lucrezia Borgia to Ferrara, 142–143; receives gold for producing badges, 209; as Ricca’s heir, 27, 34; supplication for release of, 232–239, 241, 368–369n20; training in ­father’s workshop, 176–177, 178, 202–203, 219; and votto commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 204–205; works of, as diplomatic gifts, 225–226 Grendi, Edoardo, 7 Guarino, Battista, 326n15 Guarnieri, Antonio Maria, 76 guilds, 263n75, 264nn12,13. See also goldsmiths’ guilds Hebrew, 107 Hebrew codices, 126–128 Holy Week, curfew on Jews during, 37–38 homosexual relations. See sodomy honorific appellations, 35, 114, 169, 223, 244 Houses of Catechumens, 6, 150 Hsia, Ronnie Po-­chia, 38 Hunt, Margaret R., 371n9 interrogation ­u nder torture. See torture Isaac da Bologna, 263n78 Isacco, son of Vitale da Pisa, 60, 62–64

Isaiah, 102–104, 108 Italian Wars, 210–211, 219, 220, 245, 246 Jeremiah, 102–104, 108 jewelry: commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 163–178, 183–192, 195–196, 203, 224, 225, 228, 342n77, 343n86, 344n5, 365n54, 366n4; commissioned by Lucrezia Borgia, 214, 215, 223–226, 362–363n25; as symbolic tool, 53 Jewish exiles from Spain, 125–126 Jews: Abramo Tusolo’s disputes with, 119; Alfonso d’Este’s relationship with Ferrarese, 365–366n59; assimilation of converted, 162–163; baptized in Umbria, 252n12; communal treatment of criminal, 280nn52,54; conversion of, 67–68, 70–73, 93–94, 123–124, 151–152, 244–245, 273n41, 370n4; converted, as donzelle, 142–144; in craft and trade guilds, 263n75; differing experiences of Italian and Iberian, 252–253n17; expelled from duchy of Milan, 46–47; as goldsmiths in Mantua, 28; Hebrew as identity marker for, 107; Holy Week curfew for, 37–38, 274–275n10, 276n21; honorific appellations and, 35, 114, 243, 273n41; as informers against other Jews, 42–44; institutionalized efforts to convert, 6–7, 15; knowledge regarding ecclesiastical vessels, 123; marriage of female, 265n20; monachization of baptized, 150, 160–161, 333n58; and murdered ­children, 38–42, 63; perceptions of, following conversion, 186–187; profit-­generating pursuits of, ­l imited, 124; Salomone as target of resentment of, 43–44, 45, 118, 128–129, 231–232, 244, 319–320n51; Salomone’s dealings

383

384 I N D E X

Jews (continued) with Ferrarese, 114–115; significance of conversions of, 7, 9–10; social and cultural integration of, 243–244; and social benefits of conversion, 131, 144–145, 149–150, 178–179, 218, 246; sodomy proceedings against, 60–61, 62–63, 65; and trade in luxury items, 19–20. See also anti-­Judaism; Jewish exiles from Spain; Judaizers John, St., relic tabernacle of, 123 Josel of Rosheim, 42, 43 Joseph (Ferrante or Ferdinando) (son of Salomone / Ercole): baptism of, 99, 113; fate of, 241–242, 267n44; as goldsmith working for Lucrezia Borgia, 223; knowledge regarding, 113, 259n42; and maniglie commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 172, 174; pawns valuables received from Isabella d’Este, 231–232, 235–236; professional training of, 176–177, 178, 202–203, 219, 342n80; share in Ricca Finzi’s inheritance, 34 Judaizers, 370n7 Julius Caesar, 135 Julius II, Pope, 101, 210, 215 Lardi, Antonio Francesco di, 150 Lazzaro, son of Emanuele di Bonaventura of Volterra, 25, 127 Lazzaro, son of Isaco da Cesena, 285n44 Leone (Jewish hosteler), 28–29 Leo X, Pope, 215 Lezolo, Jacomo de, 142 Libanori, Andrea, 114–115, 313n13 Liombeni, Giovanni Luca, 345n21 Lipton, Sara, 308–309n57 lira marchesana, 268n49 Liucio, son of Museto from Revere, 33–34 Liucio di Leone, 60–61, 65 Louis XII, King, 137–138 Lowe, Kate, 333n63, 334n72

Loyola, Ignatius, St., 93 Ludovico, son of Ser Antonio, 24 Lutheran Reformation. See Reformation, Protestant Luzzati, Michele, 14 Maffei, Federico, 142 Maffeo (alleged thief), 51 Magnanino, Girolamo: appointed ducal secretary, 303n5; on baptismal name of Graziadio / Alfonso, 98; and baptism of Salomone /  Ercole, 94, 105; and maniglie commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 169–170, 171–173, 175, 183–185, 343n86; on Salomone / Ercole’s baptismal oration, 106–107; on Salomone / Ercole’s character, 186 malaria. See quartan fever Mantegna, Andrea, 135, 185, 194, 196, 212 Mantua: enmity between Salomone /  Ercole and Jews of, 43–44, 45, 108–109, 118, 128–129, 130, 231–232; Salomone / Ercole banished from, 128–129, 130, 200, 208, 310–311n80; Salomone seeks out work opportunities in, 28 Manuele the Greek (Manuele Greco), 25, 266n28 Marasca, Giacomo, 80–81, 83, 84 Mariano da Genazzano, Fra, 38, 89–91, 275nn15,16 Martin V, Pope, 123, 124 Mastino, Benedetto, Don, 79, 84–86, 299–300n39 Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor, 210 Mazur, Peter A., 252n14 Medici, Cosimo de’, 369n24 Mele di Salomone da Sessa. See Mele, son of Salomone da Sessa (­father of Salomone / Ercole) Mele, son of Salomone da Sessa (­father of Salomone / Ercole), 3f, 13–15, 18,

INDEX

25, 62, 126–127, 254–255n3, 256n17, 257n25 Melegini, Domenica (­Sister Theodora Melegini), 157, 159, 160, 334n79 Melioli, Bartolomeo, 49–50 Merli, Formosa de’, 142 Milan, Jews expelled from duchy of, 46–47 miracle, and Salomone’s conversion, 39–42, 108–109 miscegenation, 51–52, 285nn44,45 Mithridates, Flavius. See Farachio, Samuel ben Nissim (Flavius Mithridates) (Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada) Moncada, Guglielmo Raimondo. See Farachio, Samuel ben Nissim (Flavius Mithridates) (Guglielmo Raimondo Moncada) moneylenders and moneylending, 13–15, 18–19, 45–47, 114–115, 123, 126–128, 231–232, 235–236, 259n46, 261n58, 313n12 Montino, Giovanni de, 142 Mosè di Abramo, 257n25 Moshe ben Joab, 15 Mosti / Mosto, Bonaventura de’, 116, 117, 314n24 Mosti / Mosto, Liona de’, 143, 327n34, 333n59 murdered ­children, 38–42, 63, 108–109 Museto di Angelo di Museto da Sant’Elpidio, 3f, 15, 33, 272n23 Museto di Ventura di Ventura, 16, 25, 257n26 names: baptismal, 67–68, 95, 98–101, 292n58, 306nn32,33; monastic, 157, 159–160, 332n49, 333n63 Narkiss, Mordechai, 123 Niccolò, Master, 102, 103f Niccolò of Verona, 88–90, 96–97 Norsa, Daniele, 320n54 Norsa, Deodato, 45–46, 51–52, 281n2

Norsa, Manuele, 34, 37, 45, 51, 126, 128, 130–131, 272n27, 272–273n30, 313n12, 320n4 Norsa, Salomone, 34 Nubola, Cecilia, 369n21 nuns. See convents Obizzi, Daniele degli, 74–76, 96, 106 Ozment, Steven, 341n73 Paul III, Pope, 69, 70 pawnbroking, 13–15, 18–19, 45–47, 114–115, 123, 126–128, 231–232, 235–236, 259n46, 261n58, 313n12 Peter Martyr, St., 158 Petrarch, 135 Petronio, St., relic tabernacle of, 122–123 Picca, Paolo, 132 Pini, Raffaella, 122–123 Pinta (­sister of Salomone / Ercole), 3f, 4f, 15, 26–27, 33–34, 46, 272n21 Pinturicchio (Bernardino di Betto), 136 Pius V, Pope, 93 plague, 125, 196–197, 207, 215, 367n14 Pochaterra, Giovanni, 151 Pöck, Ursula, 39 pomander cover, 215–217, 221–223, 361n6 Prisciani, Pellegrino, 128 Prosperi, Adriano, 72 Prosperi, Bernardino de’: and attendants of Lucrezia Borgia, 141–142, 326n21; and baptism of Caio d ­ aughter, 105; on executions of Niccolò and Cesare of Verona, 97; and marriages of Lucrezia Borgia’s donzelle, 141, 200–201, 202; relationship with Isabella d’Este, 41; relationship with Salomone / Ercole’s f­ amily, 200; on Salomone / Ercole’s baptismal oration, 39, 40, 109; and tondi remade for Isabella d’Este, 212, 213–214, 356n33 Prosperi, Eleonora de’, 333n59

385

386 I N D E X

quartan fever, 204, 207–208, 353n45 “Queen of Swords,” 2, 132, 133f, 134–136, 144, 166, 215 Ramazzini, Bernardino, 216–217 Reformation, Protestant, 93, 150 Riva, Amadio of Milan, 30, 123, 342n84 Roberti, Ercole de’, 176 Rocke, Michael, 61, 288n14 Roseto, Iacopo, 122–123 rosichiero, 171, 174, 207–208, 339n51 Rossetti, Biagio, 152 safe- ­conducts, 48–50, 60, 128 Salomone da Sesso (Ercole de’ Fedeli): and apprenticeship of sons, 176–177; assimilation into Christian society, 109, 162–163; background of, 2, 6; banished from Mantua, 128–129, 130, 200, 208, 310–311n80; baptismal name of, 98; baptismal oration of, 39–41, 104, 106–109, 154; birth of, 256n13; cele­bration of baptism of, 93–94; charges against, 52–53, 55–56, 59, 61–67, 69, 108–109, 269n2; ­children of, 3f, 17, 172, 258nn35,41; conversion of, 1–2, 6, 39–41, 66–67, 68–69, 78–92, 93–109; death of, 233–234, 242; and death of d ­ aughter, 204–206; and death of Eleonora of Aragon, 119–120; and death of Ercole d’Este, 192–194; debts of, 25, 26, 33, 266n28; demands goods from f­ ather’s business, 126–128; ecclesiastical wares produced by, 121–122, 123, 124, 162; as Eleonora of Aragon’s court goldsmith, 30–35, 36–37; employs surname De’ Fidelis / Fedeli, 136; Ercole d’Este’s support of, 150–151; exempted from Holy Week curfew, 37, 274–275n10, 276n21; and f­ avor for Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, 159–160;

financial prob­lems of, 44, 217–220, 225, 230–231, 235–236, 238; health prob­lems of, 170, 200, 204, 207–208, 215–216, 221–222; historical documentation regarding, 7–8, 184–185; impact of conversion of, 113–114, 178–179, 202; impact of Italian Wars on, 211, 245; imprisonment of, 187–188, 189–190, 191; inheritance of, 26–27; Isabella d’Este as main patron of, 230–231; as Lucrezia Borgia’s court goldsmith, 197–200, 208–210, 214, 215, 223–226, 350n13; and maniglie commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 163–178, 183–192, 195–196, 342n77, 343n86, 344n5, 366n4; and maniglie commissioned by Lucrezia Borgia, 224, 225; marriage of, 234, 258n35; as master goldsmith, 113–114; maternal f­ amily of, 4f; missing in goldsmiths’ guild members lists, 312n6; opinions on character of, 185–186, 217; paternal f­ amily of, 3f; pawns valuables, 114–115, 231–232, 235–236, 313n12; pomander cover commissioned from, 215–217, 221–223, 361n6; preconversion years of, 13–21; professional training of, 21, 22–24; religious observance of, 29, 120, 242–243; remakes tondi for Isabella d’Este, 211–215; renown of, 28–29, 47–50, 210; requests interventions for Jews, 45–52; seeks work in Mantua, 28; self-­fashioning of, 173, 192–193, 203–204, 242–243, 348n53; similarities between Abramo Tusolo and, 119; swords created by, 131–138, 210, 232, 323n38, 324n48; as target of Jewish enmity, 43–44, 45, 118, 128–129, 231–232, 244, 319–320n51; tries to secure dowry for firstborn d ­ aughter, 148–149; and vestition of

INDEX

Caterina / ­Sister Theodora, 155; as virtuoso goldsmith, 2, 47, 105, 185; works of, as diplomatic gifts, 225–226 San Bartolomeo di Porta Ravegnana (Bologna), 16–17, 19, 23, 24 San Bernardino, convent (Ferrara), 211 San Lorenzo, convent (Bologna), 150 Santa Caterina da Siena, convent (Ferrara), 145, 146–148, 150, 152–161, 205, 329n14, 332n46, 332n49 Santa Chiara, convent (Volterra), 150 Santissima Annunziata all’Arco dei Pantani, convent (Rome), 331n30 Sapientia (daughter-­i n-­l aw of Salomone / Ercole), 232–239, 241, 368–369n20 Sara, ­d aughter of Simone de Alamani, 13, 254–255n3 Savonarola, Girolamo, Fra, 94–95, 127, 148–149, 152, 157, 161 Savonarola, Veronica (­Sister Girolama), 148, 157, 161 Scalini, Mario, 134 Serafino, Simone of Milan, 162–163 sexual conduct, 14, 51–52, 59–69, 75. See also sodomy Sforza, Anna, 5f, 94, 101, 104–105, 139, 277n30 Sforza, Ludovico (“Il Moro”), 5f, 46, 47 Shemek, Deanna, 365n54 Simele da Montagnana (Gian Giacomo de’ Fedeli), 136, 323n40 Simone (assailant Jew), 119, 315n33 Simone (son of Angelo di Vitale), 50–51, 87 Simon of Trent. See Unferborben, Simon Simonsohn, Shlomo, 287n4 Sirleto, Guglielmo, 70–71, 330n26 slaves, 197, 293n3 sodomy, 59–69, 150–151, 287n4, 288n14, 290n39. See also sexual conduct

Spagnuolo, Benedetto, 125 Spagnuolo, Martin, 125 Spagnuolo, Medina, 125 Spagnuolo, Piero, 125 spiritual kinship. See godparenthood stole, 104 stolen goods. See thieves, prosecution of Stuard, Susan Mosher, 260n52 supplications, 232–239, 241, 368–370nn20-21,24 Susannis, Marquardus de, 71, 83 swords, 131–138, 210, 232, 323n38, 324n48. See also “Queen of Swords” Syllano, Pietro Paolo, 330n26 tabernacles, 121–124 Taylor, Valerie, 267n44 tertiaries’ ­houses. See convents; Santa Caterina da Siena, convent (Ferrara) Theodora, St., 157 thieves, prosecution of, 51–52, 72, 73, 101, 144, 285n45, 293n10 Toaff, Ariel, 252n12, 260n54 tondi, 211–215, 356n33, 358n58 torture, 50–51, 55, 64, 67, 80, 87, 286n59 Tovar, Jeshurun, 32 Trent, blood libel, 38–39 Trinity, 100 Trionfi (Triumphs) (Petrarch), 135 Triumph of Caesar, 135 Triumph of Love, 135 Trivulzio, Gian Giacomo, 137–138 Tromboncino, Bartolomeo, 292n66 Trotti, Sigismondo, 142, 202 Tusolo di Mandolino, Abramo (“the Card Player”), 26, 115–120, 315n33 Umbria, 6, 252n12 Unferborben, Simon, 38, 39 Valla, Angela, 224, 362nn15,16 Vasari, Giorgio, 185 Ventura di Ventura, 16, 25

387

388 I N D E X

Venturi, Adolfo, 122 Vincenzi, Giacobo, 34, 130–131 Vincenzo da Bagnacavallo, 142 Violante (donzella of Lucrezia Borgia), 140, 142, 144, 201 Virgin Mary, 40–41 virtù (virtus), 47, 105 Welch, Evelyn, 167 w ­ idows, 15–16, 24, 26, 68, 228 ­women: and gendered division of l­ abor, 17–18; lesser visibility in historical documentation, 8, 202–203, 234–235, 241; marriage of Jewish, 265n20; as moneylenders, 259n46; as testators, 23–28, 265n18. See also convents; ­ idows donzelle (damsels); w Yriarte, Charles, 132, 134 Zambotti, Bernardino, 73, 94, 96, 115, 140, 332n46 Zampante, Gregorio, 64, 65, 67, 69, 74, 88, 290nn35,36

Zasius, Ulrich, 95 zibellino, 223 “Ziliola, La,” (relative of Girolamo Ziliolo), 165, 326–327n23 Ziliolo, Girolamo: on arrest of Salomone / Ercole and Graziadio /  Alfonso, 189–190; and badges commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 209; and bracelets commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 165–169, 175, 185, 188, 190–191, 195–196, 224, 344n5; duties of, 317n26; and pomander cover commissioned by Isabella d’Este, 215–217, 221–223; praises Graziadio / Alfonso, 227, 228; to procure gilded book from Salomone / Ercole, 124–125; on Salomone / Ercole’s character, 185–186, 203, 217; on Salomone /  Ercole’s financial prob­lems, 217–218, 225, 238; and Santa Caterina da Siena, 146, 158–159; and se­lection of Lucrezia Borgia’s damsels, 142