The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo: Duchess of Florence and Siena [1 ed.] 9781138257566

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THE CULTURAL WORLD OF ELEONORA DI TOLEDO DUCHESS OF FLORENCE AND SIENA

The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo Duchess of Florence and Siena

Edited and with an introduction by Konrad Eisenbichler

Contents

List of Illustrations

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List of Contributors

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Introduction Konrad Eisenbichler

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Veni, sponsa. Love and Politics at the Wedding of Eleonora di Toledo Mary A. Watt

2 A ‘Laura’ for Cosimo: Bronzino’s Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni Gabrielle Langdon 3

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La fecundissima Signora Duchessa: The Courtly Persona of Eleonora di Toledo and the Iconography of Abundance Bruce L. Edelstein

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4 A Duchess’ Place at Court: The Quartiere di Eleonora in the Palazzo della Signoria in Florence Ilaria Hoppe

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5 Eleonora and her ‘Famous Sisters.’ The Tradition of ‘Illustrious Women’ in Paintings for the Domestic Interior Paola Tinagli

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6 Eleonora di Toledo among the Famous Women: Iconographic Innovation after the Conquest of Siena Pamela J. Benson

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7 Eleonora di Toledo’s Chapel: Lineage, Salvation and the War Against the Turks Robert W. Gaston

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Los scholares son cosa de su excelentia, como lo es toda la Compañia: Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits Chiara Franceschini v

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Contents The Burial Attire of Eleonora di Toledo Mary Westerman Bulgarella

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10 La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa felice memoria: The Posthumous Eleonora di Toledo Janet Cox-Rearick

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Index of names

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List of Illustrations

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3.1

Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, 1545, oil on panel, 119 × 96 cm, Florence, Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, detail: face (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, detail: dress (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Laura Battiferra, 1555– 60, oil on panel, 83 × 60 cm, Florence, Palazzo Pitti (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Domenico Puligo, Portrait of Barbara Salutati Fiorentina, c. 1526 (by permission of the Salmond Collection, Salisbury) Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Bia de’ Medici, c. 1542, oil on panel, 59 × 45 cm, Florence, Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo, c. 1545, oil on panel, 59 × 46 cm (by permission of the Národní Galerie, Prague) Sandro Botticelli, Young Woman (Simonetta Vespucci?) in Mythological Guise, c. 1480–85, tempera on panel, 81.5 × 54.2 cm (by permission of the Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt-am-Main) Francesco Salviati, ceiling decoration, Scrittoio della Duchessa, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, c. 1545 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) vii

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3.3 3.4 3.5

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4.1 7.1

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List of Illustrations Baccio Bandinelli, Ceres, Façade, Grotta Grande, Boboli Gardens, Florence, c. 1548 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Bartolomeo Ammannati, Ceres, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 1555–63 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Bartolomeo Ammannati, Juno, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 1555–63 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Francesco Salviati, Triumph of Camillus, detail, Sala dell’Udienza, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1543–5 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Giorgio Vasari, Ceiling Decoration, Sala di Cerere, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–6 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Giorgio Vasari, Vault Decoration, Terrazzo di Giunone, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1556–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Giorgio Vasari, The First Fruits of the Earth Offered to Saturn, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Musei Comunali di Firenze) Giorgio Vasari, Triptolemus at the Plough, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Giorgio Vasari, Sacrifice to Cybele, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Davide Fortini et al. after Tribolo, Central Niche (sculpture by Baccio Bandinelli and Giovanni Fancelli, called Nanni di Stocco), Grotticina di Madama, Boboli Gardens, Florence, 1553–5 (photo: Bruce Edelstein) Floor plan of the Palazzo della Signoria (by permission of Karen Bartram) Agnolo Bronzino, The Crossing of the Red Sea, Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Chapel of Eleonora (photo: Archivi Alinari-Firenze) Eleonora di Toledo’s burial attire before conservation in a photograph taken in 1968. Gabinetto Fotografico Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze (by permission of the Ministero dei beni e le attività culturali)

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List of Illustrations 9.2

9.3 9.4

9.5 9.6

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10.2

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Eleonora’s dress after conservation. Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti. Photo: Marcello Bertoni (by permission of the ministero dei beni e le attività culturali) Drawing of Eleonora’s dress (front and back) if worn (copyright Janet Arnold) Facsimile of Eleonora’s dress. Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti. Photo: Mary Westerman Bulgarella (by permission of the ministero dei beni e le attività culturali) Agnolo Bronzino (attrib.) Isabella de’ Medici. Private collection, England (by permission) Eleonora’s grave marker, Basilica di San Lorenzo, Florence. Photo: Mary Westerman Bulgarella (by permission of the ministero dei beni e le attività culturali) Agnolo Bronzino (workshop), Eleonora di Toledo. Washington, National Gallery of Art. Replica of a lost original (by permission) Agostino Ciampelli, Funeral of Michelangelo. Florence, Casa Buonarroti (by Permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Anonymous (late sixteenth century). Eleonora di Toledo (location unknown). Fototeca, Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz (by permission) Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Immaculate Conception. Florence, S. Maria Regina della Pace (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Immaculate Conception. Florence, S. Maria Regina della Pace; detail, Duke Cosimo de’ Medici as David (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Eleonora di Toledo. London, Wallace Collection (by kind permission of the Trustees of the Wallace Collection. London) Agnolo Bronzino, Drawing for the chapel vault; Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt-am-Main (by permission )

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10.9a and b

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List of Illustrations Alessandro Allori, Eleonora di Toledo. Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Studiolo of Francesco I (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Adriaen Haelwegh, Eleonora di Toledo and Duke Cosimo de’ Medici, engravings. Florence, Gabinetto dei Disegni e Stampe degli Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Lorenzo della Sciorina, Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Garzia. Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Anonymous, Eleonora di Toledo. Empoli, Villa Medicea di Ceretto Guidi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence) Jacopo Ligozzi, Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Francesco. New Haven, Yale University Library, The Lewis Walpole Library (by permission) Antonio Bueno, Eleonora da Toledo con il figlio generalissimo del mare. Rome, private collection (by permission of Isabella Bueno)

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Contributors

Pamela J. Benson is Professor of English at Rhode Island College. She has published The Invention of the Renaissance Woman: The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and Thought of Italy and England (1992) and edited (with Victoria Kirkham) Strong Voices/Weak History: Medieval and Renaissance Women and Canons in England, France, and Italy (2003). Janet Cox-Rearick is Distinguished Professor and Deputy Executive Officer for Renaissance and Baroque Art at the Graduate School and University Center, City University of New York. She received a PhD from Harvard University, has published extensively on Italian Cinquecento art, and is the author of The Drawings of Pontormo (New York, 1981), Dynasty and Destiny in Medici Art (Princeton, 1984), Bronzino’s Chapel of Eleonora in the Palazzo Vecchio (Berkeley, 1993), The Collection of Francis I (Antwerp, 1995) and Giulio Romano Master Designer (New York, 1999). She is currently completing a book, Bronzino and Eleonora di Toledo: Portraiture and Dress at the Medici Court. Bruce L. Edelstein currently teaches in Florence for New York University. He received his PhD from Harvard University (1995) with a dissertation on the patronage of Eleonora di Toledo. He has held teaching positions at the Florida State University Florence Study Center, Syracuse University in Italy and the Harvard University Graduate School of Design. He has been a fellow at the Harvard University Center for Italian Renaissance Studies at Villa I Tatti. Recent publications include articles on Eleonora di Toledo’s financial resources, the evolution of Leone Leoni’s composition for his Charles V Restraining Fury and Cosimo I and Eleonora di Toledo’s patronage of Agnolo Bronzino and Niccolò Tribolo. Konrad Eisenbichler is Professor of Italian and Renaissance Studies at the University of Toronto and past Director of the Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, Toronto (1990–2000). He has published extensively on Italian literature and history. His monograph The Boys of the Archangel Raphael. A Youth Confraternity in Florence, 1411–1785 (Toronto, 1998) received the Howard J. Marraro Prize for best book of the year from the xi

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American Catholic Historical Association. His most recent volume is The Premodern Teenager: Youth and Society, 1150–1650 (2002). Between these two works he edited what could be seen as a companion volume to the current one, The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici (Ashgate, 2001). Chiara Franceschini is completing a PhD in history at the Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa. She is interested in the history of religion, politics, and images in Early Modern Italy and France. She has previously worked on Renée de France and her court in Ferrara. Robert W. Gaston specializes in Italian art from 1300–1650 and in aspects of the classical tradition. He is currently completing a book on decorum, a jointly-authored volume on liturgical change in San Lorenzo, Florence, 1370– 1509, and two volumes on Pirro Ligorio’s antiquarian manuscripts for the Edizione Nazionale of Ligorio’s writings. He has held senior research fellowships at Villa I Tatti and at the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery of Art, Washington DC. Ilaria Hoppe is completing a doctoral dissertation at the Institute of Art History in the Technical University of Berlin on the apartments of Grand Duchess Maria Maddalena d’Austria, Regent of Tuscany, in her residence at the villa of Poggio Imperiale in Florence. She has previously studied at the universities of Düsseldorf and Cologne, and has been a Fellow at the Bonn Graduate Research Colloquium. She is currently working for the Gallery K&S in Berlin and is responsible for the Gender Studies website of www.kunsttexte.de, a German art history periodical on the Internet. Gabrielle Langdon is a former museum curator and has a PhD from the University of Michigan. Her speciality is Florentine Mannerist portraiture and decorum of portrayal. She has published detailed studies of individual Medici portraits, and a study of Matisse’s Chapel in Vence. Her recently completed book, Medici Women of the Court of Duke Cosimo I: Portraits of Power, Love and Betrayal is forthcoming from the University of Toronto Press. She has taught in Canada, the USA, Italy and Ireland. Paola Tinagli received her PhD in art history from the University of Edinburgh (1988). She has taught at the Edinburgh College of Art and is an Honorary Fellow in the Fine Art Department at the University of Edinburgh. She is the author of Women in Italian Renaissance Art (Manchester University Press, 1997) and of several articles on Italian sixteenth-century art history. Mary A. Watt received her PhD in Italian studies from the University of Toronto in 1998. She is currently an Assistant Professor at the University of

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Florida where she teaches Italian language, literature and cinema. Her recent publications include articles on Renaissance theatre, on the image of the Eucharist in Dante’s Convivio, and on the reception of Dante under Cosimo I. Mary Westerman Bulgarella received a BA in art history from the University of Colorado and an MFA in art conservation from Rosary College Graduate School of Fine Arts, Florence. She then specialized in the conservation, research and display of historic textiles and costumes, studying in and collaborating with museums and public institutions in Italy and elsewhere. From 1983 to 1993 she researched and conserved the Medici burial clothes in the conservation laboratory of the Galleria del Costume at the Palazzo Pitti, Florence. Since 1998 she has overseen the care of the textile and costume collection at the Stibbert Museum in Florence.

Introduction Konrad Eisenbichler

On 22 June 1539 a seventeen-year-old Spanish girl disembarked at Livorno and stepped onto Tuscan soil. She was Eleonora di Toledo, daughter of the viceroy of Naples, and she was on her way to Florence to marry its young duke, Cosimo I de’ Medici, fresh out of his teenage years. The soft imprints she left on the ground on her way to meet the dignitaries that had assembled to greet her foreshadowed the tender influence she would have on the life of their ruler and belied the powerful impact she would have on their culture and their state. Eleonora may have been a beautiful woman, a devoted wife and a loving mother, as her contemporaries and biographers have described her, but she was also a hard-headed and hard-nosed individual who, much like her future husband Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, quietly but surely altered the course of Tuscan history. Some of the most important legacies of sixteenthcentury Medici rule in Florence, be they political, cultural, or religious, can easily be laid at her feet. From the reassuring number of legitimate male heirs she produced for the then-failing Medici family line to the many innovative artists she employed to beautify her surroundings and her life, from the Palazzo Pitti that was bought with her money to the Jesuit preachers that were brought at her bidding, there was little in town that did not, somehow, feel the power of her will and the effect of her insistence. Given Eleonora’s impact on the city, it is surprising that so little scholarly attention has been paid to her rule as duchess. Admittedly, art historians have been aware for some time of her influence on the visual culture of Cinquecento Florence and, consequently, have made great strides in advancing our understanding of her contribution in that area. Other historians, however, have lagged far behind, so much so that we still know very little about Eleonora’s contribution to the political, economic, or spiritual life of the duchy. We know that Duke Cosimo consulted extensively with her and even left her in charge of the duchy when he twice went abroad for long periods of time to meet with the emperor, but we do not know the exact nature of these consultations, nor the effectiveness of her acting rulership. We know she owned great tracts of Tuscan land and managed them wisely and profitably, shipping 1

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their product to markets as far away as Spain, but we do not know the impact her business dealings had on the Florentine economy. We know that she was directly responsible for the introduction of the Jesuits in Florence and for the support of a number of pious endeavours in the duchy, but we do not know the depth or nature of her own piety nor the long-term effect it had on the religious life of Tuscany. In short, we have some inkling of her contribution, but little documented discussion on its process and its results. A reflection of our ignorance might well be the lack of a modern biography of her. The only monograph on her is Anna Baia’s Leonora di Toledo, Duchessa di Firenze e di Siena (1907), now difficult to find and disappointing to read. Brief references to her are scattered throughout most works dealing with her husband, but they are neither substantial nor consistent. The entry under her name in the Dizionario biografico degli italiani provides an excellent summary and a good bibliography of primary and secondary sources, but it is, for the most part, derivative. In short, it is time to look at Eleonora di Toledo more carefully. Eleonora was born in Spain in 1522,1 the daughter of Don Pedro de Toledo and his wife Doña Maria Osorio Pimentel, marquess of Villafranca del Bierzo, in Leon.2 In May 1534, two years after Don Pedro’s appointment as viceroy of Naples by Emperor Charles V, Doña Maria and the children joined him in Italy where Eleonora was brought up in the strict and closed surroundings of the Spanish viceregal court. The young girl seems not to have attracted any special attention except for the furtive glances of a visiting young page, Cosimo de’ Medici, who, according to later eulogists, had caught sight of her and admired her beauty in 1535 when he accompanied his cousin, Duke Alessandro de’ Medici, on a visit to Naples.3 The glances proved well cast when, three years later, the viceroy offered one of his daughters in marriage to the young Cosimo, who, in the meantime, had suddenly and unexpectedly become duke of Florence. Remembering the young girl’s beauty, Cosimo 1 Arrighi, ‘Eleonora de Toledo,’ 42:437; Allegri/Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. xxxi. Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 89, n. 1 says she was not able to determine Eleonora’s birth year; earlier, on p. 24, she had claimed that Eleonora was born in Sebeto. I have not been able to identify any such town in Spain or in Italy. The Sebeto River, on the other hand, exists and flows into the Mediterranean just outside Naples; the adjective ‘sebetico’ that derives from it is used, in a generic sense, as a synonym for ‘napoletano, partenopeo’ (Battaglia, Grande dizionario, sub voce); this leads me to suspect that Baia might have misunderstood the meaning of the adjective as it was applied to Eleonora. 2 Don Pedro and Doña Maria had seven children: three boys – Federigo, Garzia, Luigi – and four daughters – Isabella, Eleonora, Giovanna and Anna. For more information on Eleonora’s parents, see Gaston’s article in this collection. 3 Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 16; Pieraccini, La stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo, 2:40; Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 111.

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firmly refused the viceroy’s first offer of his older and plainer daughter, Isabella,4 and insisted instead on the hand of the younger and much prettier Eleonora. On 29 March 1539 the viceroy and Cosimo’s representatives in the negotiations, Luigi Ridolfi and Jacopo de’ Medici, reached an agreement for Eleonora and a proxy marriage was celebrated in Naples. The dowry of 30 000 scudi (which Don Pedro never paid to Cosimo) and the two donations for a total of 20 000 gold scudi the groom was to make to the bride just in case he should predecease her without heirs (which also never happened) ultimately meant that Cosimo had bargained well and had obtained a regal bride basically for free.5 Ever the astute merchant, the duke was not, however, about to reveal his cunning or revel publicly in the ‘deal’ he had made. Instead, he covered his victory with a self-deprecatory comment to his own oratore (ambassador) at the imperial court, Giovanni Bandini, saying, in effect, that on hearing of the terms of the marriage Pope Paul III Farnese was surely going to make fun of the duke for having turned down his much better offer of marriage to his grand-daughter, Vittoria Farnese.6 But the pope would have laughed in vain, for Cosimo was intent on establishing a longlasting connection with the imperial family and the powerful Spanish nobility, not a fragile link with the newcomer family of an elderly pope.7 4 ‘Bruttissima et di cervello il ludibrio di Napoli,’ Agnolo Niccolini to the ducal secretary Ugolino Grifoni, 4 January 1539, ASF, Mediceo 3261; cited in Spini, Cosimo I, 135; the letter was published in Ferrai, Cosimo de’ Medici, p. 75. It is also cited in Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 3 (although she gives the year incorrectly as 1537); Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 111; Arrighi, ‘Eleonora de Toledo,’ p. 438. 5 As descendants of the ancient kings of Castille, the Toledo family claimed royal lineage. Don Pedro’s father, in fact, had been a cousin of King Ferdinand the Catholic. Copies of contracts for Eleonora’s marriage are in ASF, Miscellanea Medicea, VIII, 3. For a discussion of the marriage contract and the dowry negotiations, see Spini, Cosimo I, p. 135; Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 111. Baia’s references to the dowry and the gifts are not very clear; Leonora di Toledo, p. 16. Arrighi, ‘Eleonora de Toledo,’ p. 438 claims that the dowry was of 20 000 scudi and Cosimo’s gifts amounted to 30 000 scudi. 6 ‘Io so che il papa si farà beffe de’ casi miei, quando gli verrà notizia delle conditioni, che io ho preposte a quelle mi offeriva; tuttavia desidero ogni giorno avere qualche occasione di dimostrare a Sua Maestà, che io non ho, né voglio havere, altro segnore e padrone al mondo di quella,’ Cosimo to Giovanni Bandini, 10 May 1539, ASF, Mediceo 2, f. 121r, cited in Spini, Cosimo I, p. 135. Also cited in Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 16; Pieraccini, La stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo, 2:40; Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 111. Vittoria (1519–1602) was the daughter of Pier Luigi Farnese, the pope’s son; she eventually married Guidobaldo II della Rovere (1548) and became duchess of Urbino. 7 Although the Farnese were a noble family from Latium dating back to the twelfth century, they had risen to power only recently. Giulia Farnese was reputed to have had a liaison with Pope Alexander VI Borgia (r. 1492–1503) both before and after his election to the papacy. The principal beneficiary of the liaison was, however, Giulia’s older brother, Alessandro Farnese, who, after having been raised to the cardinalate by the Borgia pope (1493) in the first set of

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No sooner was the agreement reached than Eleonora and Cosimo began to correspond and she, for one, visibly showed her pleasure at the match and her growing love for the groom. In May, 1539 Cosimo’s agent in Naples, Jacopo de’ Medici, informed the ducal secretary Pierfrancesco Riccio that ‘The Lady Duchess says she is happy and filled to the brim with satisfaction, and I want to assure you of this’; he then added that when Eleonora had recently received a letter from Cosimo ‘she took pride in having understood it on her own, without anyone’s help.’8 Clearly, Eleonora was pleased and was already working on her reading knowledge of Italian (something she probably had not been interested in developing while living at the Spanish court in Naples). On 11 June Eleonora sailed forth from Naples, accompanied by her brother Garcia and a train of Spanish nobility and servants that filled a total of seven galleys. On the morning of 22 June they docked at Livorno, in Tuscany, where she was greeted by Onofrio Bartolini de’ Medici, archbishop of Pisa. On the road to Pisa that same day she was met by Duke Cosimo himself, who had ridden out with a train of Florentine nobles to meet her. After three days in Pisa and four at the Medici villa at Poggio a Caiano, the couple entered Florence separately on Sunday 29 June 1539 and rejoined at the Cathedral where they were married with great pomp and festivity. As Giorgio Spini points out, the marriage celebrations for Cosimo and Eleonora provided the first instance for a cultural and artistic renewal in Florence after the disastrous seige of 1529–30 and the first indication of Cosimo’s cultural policy of ‘creating an organic relationship between artists and the principality.’9 The renewal touched not only Florence, but the Medici family itself. In the course of a long and happy marriage, Eleonora and Cosimo had eleven children together: Maria (1540–57), Francesco (1541–87), Isabella (1542– 76), Giovanni (1543–62), Lucrezia (1545–61), Pedricco (1546–47), Garzia (1547–62), Antonio (1548), Ferdinando (1549–1609), Anna (1553) and Pietro (1554–1604).10 Cosimo’s early personal device, the broncone, that is, the old elevations after the conclave, forty years later managed to obtain the papal tiara for himself (1534). During his fifteen-year rule as Pope Paul III, Alessandro Farnese worked tirelessly to provide for his several children and grandchildren. His nepotism reached new heights in 1545, when he carved out the duchy of Parma and Piacenza from what had previously been papal lands and bestowed it on his son, Pier Luigi. The latter was so universally hated by his own subjects that he was soon assassinated by a group of his own nobles (1547). 8 ‘La S.ra Duchessa si chiama contenta e satisfatta insino in cima, e di questo voglio farne la sicurtà io’ and ‘si era vantata di intenderla da se senza aiuto di persona,’ cited in Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 18 from ASF, Minutari di Cosimo I, 3. 9 Spini, Cosimo I, pp. 136–137. For Cosimo’s cultural programme, see the various articles in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I. 10 Allegri/Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. xxx–xxxi. Some scholars are uncertain of the exact number of children Cosimo and Eleonora had: the entry in the Grande dizionario enciclopedico

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severed tree stump with a new green shoot growing out of its side, could not have been better chosen, nor the emblem he devised for Eleonora, a peahen and the motto cum pudore laeta fecunditas (happy fruitfulness with chastity). Thanks to him and Eleonora, the Medici tree, which had been severed at the assassination of Duke Alessandro (6 January 1537), was now springing back to life with unprecedented vitality. The ducal couple clearly enjoyed each other’s company. Eleonora, in particular, hated to be separated from her husband and went out of her way, in spite of her frail constitution, to follow him on his travels throughout their territory. It was on one of these trips that, in the late fall of 1562, two of their children contracted malarial fevers and died within weeks of each other – the nineteen-year-old Cardinal Giovanni in Livorno on 20 November, and the fifteen-year-old Don Garzia in Pisa on 12 December. Five days later, on 17 December, weakened by her continual battle with pulmonary tuberculosis, Eleonora succumbed to the same malarial fever that had taken her sons. At her deathbed she was attended by her disconsolate husband and her Jesuit confessor. Three days later her body was brought back to Florence (20 December). The funeral was celebrated on 28 December and then she was interred in the Medici crypts in the basilica of San Lorenzo. The following day Piero Vettori recited a eulogy in Latin in her honour, published later that year by the Torrentino press in Florence under the title Laudatio Eleonorae Cosmi Medices, Floren. ac Sen. ducis, uxoris. The following year Torrentino came out with an Italian version of that same eulogy (Orazione di M. Piero Vettori nella morte dell’Illus. et excellen. Donna Leonora di Toledo Duchessa di Firenze et di Siena) as well as a collection of poems on the deaths of Eleonora and her two sons composed by a number of local and Italian poets and edited by the Tuscan erudito Ludovico Domenichi (Poesie toscane et latine di diversi eccel. ingegni, nella morte del S.D. Giovanni Cardinale, del Sig. Don Garzia de Medici, et della S. Donna Leonora di Toledo de Medici Duchessa di Fiorenza et di Siena).

UTET, 13:295, says they had 12 children (seven boys and five girls); Spini, Cosimo I, p. 136, seems to wave his hand vaguely in the air as he refers to ‘una decina di figli’; Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 112 is much more self-assured (but incorrect) when he claims they had nine; Arrighi, ‘Eleonora de Toledo,’ p. 438 is again vague and advances a tentative ‘almeno otto’; C.F. Young’s official-looking fold-out genealogical chart in his The Medici fails miserably when it lists only eight. Clearly, Eleonora’s fecundity and the tragedy of high infant mortality have led some scholars to lose count. To the eleven children Cosimo had with Eleonora one might add the three he had with other women: Bia (1537–42), sired with a Florentine woman before his marriage to Eleonora (immortalized in a haunting portrait by Bronzino; see Figure 2.2); Giovanni (1567–1621), sired with Eleonora Albizzi in his widowhood; and Virginia (1568–1614) whom he conceived with Camilla Martelli before their marriage in 1570.

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After these immediate expressions of respect and praise, the only systematic, book-length analysis of Eleonora’s life was to be Anna Baia’s monograph Leonora di Toledo, Duchessa di Firenze e di Siena. This study, which might have had some scholarly interest when it appeared in 1907, is now not only dated, but academically unacceptable. Baia’s primary concern was to produce a biografia intima of Eleonora; that is, to look at Eleonora’s personal, or private life. So, while Baia sifted through hundreds of files at the State Archive in Florence, read and placed in chronological sequence over four hundred previously unpublished ‘letters and fragments of letters’, perused various diaries, histories, dedicatory letters, poems, orations, descriptions of feasts, baptisms and funerals, her effort to discover ‘who donna Eleonora di Toledo was’ resulted only in the affirmation that ‘all, or nearly all, her inclinations and her activities … derive from her love for Cosimo.’11 Given that Baia focused virtually exclusively on Eleonora as wife, mother and woman, her conclusion is, perhaps, not unexpected. In the second part of her study Baia does look at Eleonora as mistress of a house, manager of extensive farming interests, philanthropist, politician and patron of the arts, but these activities are dealt with in just a few paragraphs each. Baia is not only one-sided in her analysis, but also obsessed by the ‘black legend’ that sprang up around Eleonora’s life. Because of this, she devotes a significant amount of energy to an attempt to dispel any negative insinuations against the duchess. For example, she is keen to show (at some length) that Eleonora was a dutiful wife who got along very well with her motherin-law Maria Salviati (pp. 25–33); that she was also an affectionate wife who loved her husband to the point of obsession (pp. 33–46); and that she was a caring mother to all her children (pp. 48–53). Lest one should think that Eleonora had too much heart and not enough brains, Baia makes a point of saying that ‘one of the great merits of the duchess [was] her appreciation of human intellect in all its manifestations’ (p. 78) – though she does not, then, provide much evidence for such a statement. Lastly, while Baia claims to present Eleonora ‘the woman, with her weaknesses and merits’ (p. 63), it is clear that her concept of ‘woman’ is very much rooted in the late nineteenth century. Only Chapter 4 moves away from the traditional concept of a woman’s role as wife and mother in order to present, rather briefly and superficially, Eleonora as a hard-nosed business11 ‘Quale ella fu, donna Leonora di Toledo. Dall’amore di lei per Cosimo derivarono tutte, o quasi, le sue inclinazioni e l’attività che ne fu, per così dire, la conseguenza,’ Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. vi. See also p. 34, ‘quella passione d’amore che doveva informare tutta la sua vita’; p. 73, ‘Dall’amore della Duchessa per il Duca io credo siano derivate per la massima parte tutte le inclinazioni di lei’; and passim.

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woman in charge of extensive personal farming properties (pp. 62–4), as a trusted political adviser to her husband (pp. 65–6), and as a generous, though demanding patron of the arts (pp. 66–80) – but the few pages devoted to each of these aspects of Eleonora’s life reveal the relatively little importance Baia saw in them. Baia’s study is also hindered by an ambivalent attitude towards both Eleonora and Cosimo. On the one hand, she is keen to present them as a loving princely couple whose management of the state revived the slumping Florentine economy and revamped its culture, but on the other hand she levels the standard lay/liberal criticisms against them. Eleonora is thus periodically described as a haughty Spaniard, while Cosimo is depicted as a despotic tyrant who destroyed Florentine liberty. Whenever positive statements are made about their accomplishments, they are inevitably undermined by a backhanded comment. The complimentary discussion on Eleonora’s profitable management of her Tuscan estates, for example, is vitiated by a concluding comment whose slurs and slant strike at both the duchess and the duke: The lady of the house disappears; the duchess trades in grain, which she ships as far as Spain, takes an interest in mining, in beekeeping, in raising silkworms, in the sale of crops that, given her immense land holdings, must have been considerable. All this, without a doubt, in order to compensate for the cost of the extraordinary luxury that she, as a true Spanish woman, always liked to surround and also adorn herself with, to remedy for her not inconsequential gambling or betting losses, but above all, I believe, in order to provide money for the duke who, in spite of the unprecedented burdens with which he oppressed his subjects, was never able to satisfy the emperor’s greed.12 (my italics)

Baia’s observation that Eleonora was a businesswoman is valid, but the conclusions she draws from it hinge on the phrases ‘without a doubt’ and ‘I believe,’ unconscious but clear signals that the road of her scholarship is, as the signs in Tuscany often warn drivers, a strada dissestata (a bumpy, uneven road). If I might be allowed to extend the roadside metaphor, what Eleonora scholarship needs is really a comune denuclearizzato (a denuclearized municipality) in which to reside. 12 ‘La donna di casa scompare; la Duchessa mercanteggia in grani che manda perfino in Ispagna, si occupa degli scavi delle miniere, dell’allevamento delle api e dei filugelli, della vendita dei raccolti che, date le immense possessioni di lei, dovettero essere ben considerevoli. Questo per supplire senza dubbio alle spese del lusso straordinario col quale, da vera spagnuola, le piacque sempre attorniarsi ed anche abbellirsi, per rimediare alle perdite non lievi che faceva nel giuoco o nelle scommesse, ma sopratutto, io credo, per fornire danari al Duca che, pure opprimendo i sudditi di gravezze inaudite, non riusciva mai a saziare le ingordige imperiali.’ Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 64.

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Such a haven is not, however, in sight. Even recent historians have fallen victim to a biased and gendered approach to Eleonora. The normally fair Roberto Cantagalli, for example, draws his few pages on Eleonora to a close with a startling personal judgement ripe with sexist assumptions: The fact is that, being beautiful and extraordinarily devoted to her husband, and dominating his soul and his senses, nor ever leaving his side (not even during exhausting hunting parties before dawn), she could have, had she wanted to, sweetened his character, softened his harshness and his partisan fanaticism, but she did not (except in very rare occasions) and, instead of disposing him towards clemency and mercy, she shared fully his hatred and his passion, and was just as involved in them as he was.13

To an attentive modern reader, these dated assumptions reveal more clearly the biases of the historians who hold them than the qualities of the woman to which they are applied.14 Their only merit is that they invite us to reread the archival material ourselves with a less sexist, less politicized eye and they encourage us to write the history of Eleonora’s years in Florence in a more inclusive manner. One of the few historians who seems not to have ceded to biased reporting is Giorgio Spini. In the few pages he dedicates to Eleonora and her marriage in his book on Cosimo’s early years in power, Spini presents the duchess in a fair and balanced manner. His conclusions on the personal relationship between Eleonora and Cosimo are worthy of note: On a human level, the union of Cosimo and Eleonora showed itself to be better matched than most princely marriages at that time. In fact, everything leads us to believe that a sincere love truly did develop between that robust young man of twenty and that pretty young woman of seventeen, a love that lasted all of Eleonora’s life. The two spouses were a model of mutual faithfulness, aside from the fact that they produced about ten children together. Aside from being a wife, Eleonora was also a passionate collaborator for Cosimo, and always took his side, even against her own compatriots. Cosimo never paid attention to 13 ‘Il fatto è che essendo bella e straordinariamente affezionata al marito e dominandone l’animo e i sensi né lasciandolo mai (nemmeno nelle faticose partite di caccia avanti l’alba) avrebbe potuto, volendo, addolcirne l’animo, placarne la durezza e il fanatismo settario, ma non lo fece (altro che in rarissimi casi) e anziché disporlo a clemenza e pietà condivise in pieno gli odi e le passioni di lui e ne fu coinvolta quanto lui.’ Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 113. 14 I might add that Baia’s racism also contains a strong dose of anti-semitism; in praising Eleonora’s father, Don Pedro de Toledo, she expresses surprise that the Neapolitans did not love their viceroy in spite of ‘the good he did for the city, which he was even able to free of Jews’ (‘Con tutto ciò i Napoletani odiarono il nuovo vicerè; il beneficio che egli aveva apportato non solo alla città, che riuscì perfino a liberare dagli Ebrei’), Baia, Leonora di Toledo, p. 14.

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another woman as long as Eleonora was alive: something very unusual for a Renaissance prince.15

The current volume seeks, in a small way, to follow Spini’s lead and present Eleonora in a more positive light than has been the case previously. It is not, as one would wish, a comprehensive re-examination of her life, but a tentative step in that direction. It brings together a variety of scholars working in various disciplines in an effort to look anew at ‘who donna Eleonora di Toledo was’ and how she contributed to Florentine culture in the mid-sixteenth century. While many of the essays in this volume take their cue from art history (a natural reflection of the innovative research recent art historians have carried out on the duchess), they also reach out towards other disciplines – political history, literature, spectacle, and religion, to mention just a few. In so doing, they expand our understanding of Eleonora’s place in her society. One hopes that they will shed a more subtle, more profound light on what was, without a doubt, a very complex and capable woman.

The volume opens with an article by Mary A. Watt on the marriage celebrations for Eleonora and Cosimo. This was the moment when Eleonora stepped out of the Neapolitan wings where she had been waiting and onto the limelight of the Florentine stage. As Watt rightly points out, the marriage was more than a public celebration; it was a public relations exercise – Eleonora was being welcomed to Florence and presented to the local population, while Cosimo was displaying his imperial connections and claiming a place on the international stage. After this traditional interpretation Watt introduces a novel view. She points out that through this marriage Cosimo was also assuming another role: that of the Dantean figure of ‘the exile returned,’ the Florentine champion who was about to enter into earthly paradise inspired and legitimized by his Beatrice – in this case Eleonora, descended from the heavens of Castilian royalty to intercede on his behalf and lead him into the empyrian of European crowned heads. Looking at Eleonora and Cosimo as ‘types’ of 15 ‘Sul piano umano, l’unione di Cosimo e di Eleonora si rivelò meglio assortita di quanto non fossero in genere i matrimoni principeschi del tempo. Tutto fa pensare anzi che fra quel giovanotto robusto di venti anni e quella graziosa diciassettenne sia nato davvero un amore sincero, che durò quanto la vita stessa di Eleonora. I due sposi furono un modello di fedeltà reciproca, a parte il fatto che misero insieme una decina di figli addirittura. Eleonora fu collaboratrice appassionata di Cosimo, oltre che moglie, e ne prese sempre le parti anche contro propri connazionali. Cosimo non ebbe mai attenzioni verso qualche altra donna fino a che visse Eleonora: un caso abbastanza raro per un principe del Rinascimento.’ Spini, Cosimo I, p. 136; see also pp. 132–137 and passim.

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Beatrice and Dante, Watt argues that they were also meant to surpass the Dantean image and fulfil the promise, thus bringing about the long-aspired ideal of a city living in harmony and peace under a just ruler. Gabrielle Langdon follows suit by continuing with the donna angelicata theme, but she puts a Petrarchan twist to it. She argues that in the 1545 state portrait of Eleonora with her son Giovanni (Figure 2.2), Agnolo Bronzino transferred onto the canvas some of the Petrarchan imagery that imbued his poetry and thereby, in this portrait, presented Eleonora as ‘Laura.’ In particular, Langdon points out that the aloofness and iciness that modern critics have noted in this image of Eleonora should be interpreted not as arrogance, coldness or Hispanic disdain (as it has often been), but rather as the standard demeanour of Petrarch’s beautiful beloved – and by extension of all beautiful beloveds in the Petrarchan tradition – that is, as the poise of a woman whose heavenly beauty and immaculate chastity make her unresponsive to earthly carnal passions and, as a result, physically unattainable on this earth. The love that binds the ducal couple, Bronzino suggests, is pure and heavenly. The joy this Eleonora/Laura brings to the duke, to the viewer, and to the duchy itself is a foretaste of the joys of supernal life. The traditional poetic concept of the heavenly creature descended to earth is thus transferred by Bronzino from the poetic to the visual medium for his state portrait of the high-ranking woman from a foreign country who had appeared on Tuscan soil to be the object of the duke’s affection. Although Bronzino might have presented the love that joined the ducal couple as pure and heavenly, the many children they produced might well have argued to the contrary. Contemporary commentators and later scholars agree in describing the affection that bound Eleonora and Cosimo as a veritable passion. Bruce Edelstein’s contribution to this volume, therefore, looks at Eleonora as the bearer of children for the ruling dynasty and at the iconography of abundance that soon came to be associated with her. As Edelstein points out, Eleonora quickly came to be associated with the ancient goddesses for matrimony (Juno) and fertility (Cybele). The fecundity of her body, evidenced by the eleven children she bore, went hand in hand with the fecundity of her estates, whose plentiful harvests contributed to the personal wealth of the ducal couple and, by extension, of their state. Re-examining Salviati’s ceiling frescoes in Eleonora’s office (the scrittoio), from where she managed her extensive estates, Edelstein proposes that the figure in the central medallion, tentatively identified as Charity, is to be identified, more correctly, as a figure of Dovizia, that is, Wealth and Abundance, with a possible allusion also to the harvest goddess Ceres. This would be a much more appropriate image for the room and for the work Eleonora carried out in it. It was also a much more appropriate image for Eleonora herself, to whom

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the historian and general gossip Paolo Giovio in one of his letters to Duke Cosimo referred as ‘the most fecund and most joyous Lady Duchess.’16 Unconsciously expressing the myth of the Fisher King, some contemporary Florentines, such as the diarist Agostino Lapini, saw in Eleonora’s fecundity a reflection of the fertility of the land, a view that was reinforced by Cosimo when he ordered the generous distribution of alms on the occasion of each of his children’s baptisms. It was a view that, as Edelstein points out, found plenty of expression in the visual arts of contemporary Florence. Moving from the study into the apartment, Ilaria Hoppe examines the decorative programme for Eleonora’s rooms in the Palazzo della Signoria. This was the first set of rooms to undergo extensive redecoration when the ducal family transferred its official residence from the Palazzo Medici on the Via Larga to the Palazzo della Signoria on the city’s main square. And there was a very good reason for such redecorating: Duke Cosimo, who had been made aware of his own and his agents’ poor showing at the viceregal court in Naples during the negotiations for his marriage with a Toledo daughter, was now keen to show his father-in-law and the world that he could, indeed, provide his princely wife with royal surroundings. The redecorations themselves were conducted over two distinct periods of time: the first set, in 1539–45, carried out under the direction of Giovanbattista del Tasso, saw a restructuring of the floor plan itself and extensive fresco redecorations in the first set of rooms; the second set, in 1559–64, conducted under Giorgio Vasari’s direction, focused only on the fresco redecoration of larger rooms in the apartment. In line with European practice whereby ruling couples lived in separate quarters, Eleonora and Cosimo lived in separate apartments. In this case, their quarters were on separate floors (the first and second floor, respectively) of the Palazzo della Signoria, and were joined by a spiral staircase that passed through Cosimo’s mother’s apartment on the mezzanine level. The two different redecorations of Eleonora’s apartment, begun twenty years apart, allow for a privileged insight into how Eleonora’s role at court was conceived and iconographically represented at two different times in her life. Hoppe thus points out that at first Eleonora was seen as genetrix for the Medici family and then, later, as a living exemplum virtutis for women in general. Hoppe also points out how such a role changed in tandem with Cosimo’s own changing view of himself and of his state, from his earlier declarations of Spanish/Hapsburg affiliation to his later assertions of Tuscan independence from imperial hegemony. Hoppe’s article functions as a link between the first three in the collection, all of which focus on Eleonora as beautiful beloved, and the two that follow, 16 ‘La fecundissima e iocundissima Signora Duchessa.’ Giovio, Lettere, 1:295 (from Rome, 23 September 1542).

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which focus on Eleonora as exemplary woman. Paola Tinagli opens this second part with an analysis of the ‘famous women’ fresco cycle in Eleonora’s apartment. Devised and carried out in 1561–2 by Giorgio Vasari and his assistant Giovanni Stradano, the cycle sought, in Vasari’s own words, to tell ‘the stories of those royal women who, with their actions, have equalled, in fact surpassed, the virtues of men’17 – in this case, the Sabine women, Queen Esther, Penelope and, finally, the Florentine heroine Gualdrada. Tinagli begins by contextualizing the frescoes first in the literary tradition of ‘famous women’ narratives ranging from Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus to Domenico Bruni’s Difese delle donne,18 and then in the visual tradition of ‘famous women’ cycles ranging from Giotto’s frescoes for the Sala Grande of King Robert of Anjou’s Castel Nuovo in Naples (1328–33) to three panels painted by Domenico Beccafumi for the bedroom of Francesco Petrucci, lord of Siena (1519–25). Tinagli notes that the visual images carried meanings that were much more fluid or ‘elastic’ than their literary counterparts. This, in turn, leads her to approach Vasari’s cycle for Eleonora’s apartment with an open mind, allowing for a multiplicity of meanings that might be read into them according to the interests of the viewer or the intentions of the interpreter. Vasari’s post facto Medicean interpretation of every decorative element in the Apartment of the Elements, voiced at great length in his uncompleted Ragionamenti (1558–68), illustrates the mental and interpretative agility of contemporary viewers. The ‘famous women’ cycle in Eleonora’s apartment lent itself to a similar fluidity of interpretations. In Tinagli’s view, the only constant in the interpretation of the cycle is that with this new iconography Eleonora was taking her place among the famous women of the past. An example of this interpretive fluidity is offered by Pamela Benson, who proposes that the cycle reveals a concerted effort on the part of Eleonora herself to reshape her public persona away from her fecundity and towards a new set of regal virtues – wisdom, valour, chastity and prudence. This change, to which Hoppe had pointed in the previous article, leads Benson to challenge traditional interpretations of the cycle on three distinct fronts: first, she proposes that Eleonora was actively involved in planning the decorations to her rooms; second, that these decorations have a political content; and, third, that they ‘create an image of Eleonora as an active political presence in

17 ‘Storie di quelle donne regie che hanno con i loro fatti paragonato la virtù degli omini, anzi vintogli,’ Vasari, Le opere, 8:343. 18 Boccaccio’s work, translated into Italian and enlarged by Giuseppe Betussi da Bassano, was published in Venice in 1545 by Comin da Trino di Monferrato with a dedication to Camilla Pallavicini, marquess of Cortemaggiore. Bruni’s work had appeared in Florence in 1552 with a dedication to Eleonora herself.

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Florence.’ Six years after her last child, Juno’s peahen would no longer serve as her logo. As the duchess was entering middle age (and probably menopause), her iconography had to move beyond the images of fertility that, up to then, had been her trademark. After more than twenty years of residency in Tuscany and after having ensured that its ruling house was firmly established on Tuscan soil, it was time to forget the young Spanish noblewoman who had set foot on Tuscan soil at Livorno and focus instead on the Tuscan duchess who had stood firm by her husband’s side in turning around and invigorating what had been a declining state. The Room of Gualdrada, the Florentine maiden who had refused to kiss the emperor, thus becomes, in Benson’s argument, a focal point for the change in the way Eleonora is presented and a venue for celebrating her contributions to the prosperity of Tuscany under Cosimo’s regime. A radical change in perspective imbues Robert Gaston’s reading of the iconography in another of Eleonora’s rooms: her chapel (1541–53). Gaston consciously removes the ‘Italian’ eyeglasses of traditional scholarship on Bronzino’s frescoes in this room and puts on ‘Spanish’ spectacles, hoping in this manner to see how Eleonora might have read and experienced her chapel. To do so, Gaston must delve into Eleonora’s spirituality, and in particular into the ‘Spanishness’ of her piety. He does this by first having a close look at the Espejo de illustres personas (Mirror of Illustrious Persons), a devotional treatise commissioned by Eleonora’s mother, Doña Maria Osorio Pimentel, from her spiritual adviser, the Franciscan friar Alonso de Madrid. The manual set out a programme of personal devotions for Maria that she must then have transmitted to her daughters. Surveying a number of similar devotional manuals produced in the ambience of the Spanish court and then supporting his assumptions with Italian references to the spiritual life of Spanish-born aristocratic women, Gaston points to the depth of spirituality that probably characterized Eleonora’s own devotions. This depth was something she had acquired not only from her mother, but also from her father. Like his wife, Don Pedro also owned an extensive library of devotional books. Gaston uses one of these, Fray Gonzalo de Arredondo y Alvarado’s Castillo inexpugnable (The Impregnable Castle), to present Don Pedro as a knight both of the crown and of the cross. Don Pedro and several other men of his and his wife’s families, are interlocutors in the dialogue that seeks to outline, for the benefit of Emperor Charles V, how to defend the castle of Christianity; the best way, of course, is to beat back the Moslem infidel and recapture the Holy Land. This, Fray Gonzalo argues, is absolutely dependent on the prayers of devout Christians. The figure of Moses is introduced into the dialogue by Leonor of Austria, the emperor’s sister. At this point Gaston connects the discussion on Moses and the parting of the Red Sea with Bronzino’s fresco of that event in

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Eleonora’s chapel. He then suggests that the figure of the bearded man in the fresco kneeling devoutly in front of Moses is none other than Eleonora’s father, Don Pedro de Toledo. After her father’s death the image must have held great significance and powerful memories for Eleonora as she knelt in devotion in her chapel.19 The ‘Spanishness’ and depth of Eleonora’s spirituality is examined further by Chiara Franceschini in her article on Eleonora’s dealings with the newly founded Jesuit order. Like other consorts of Italian rulers, Eleonora, too, had an entourage of courtiers from her own country to serve her and networks of influence to direct that did not, necessarily, overlap with those of her husband. An analysis of her dealings with the Jesuit order in general, and with several of its early leaders in particular, provides us with insights into the spirituality of the duchess, the dynamics of the Florentine court and the patronage network that kept a foreign consort in touch with her own native culture. Three early Jesuits had extensive, and at times not easy, dealings with Eleonora: Juan de Polanco, Diego Laínez and Diego de Guzmán. Polanco, who had been sent by Ignatius of Loyola to preach in Pistoia and was subsequently introduced by him to Duke Cosimo in Pisa, was the first to approach Eleonora and ask for her patronage in founding a Jesuit college in Florence (1547). She refused his petition for a meeting and invited him, instead, to put his request in writing. Polanco obliged and penned a long letter in which he argued that the newly created Society of Jesus had an indispensable role to play in the spiritual well-being of the duchy and of the duchess herself. Diego Laínez, who would later become the second general of the order, followed up Polanco’s first effort and undertook long negotiations with Cosimo that eventually led to the founding of a Jesuit school in Florence. Preaching in front of the ducal couple in 1547, Laínez not only made a good impression on his audience, but eventually also gained Eleonora’s affection to the point that she became a constant intercessor to Cosimo on behalf of the Society. In dealing with the duchess, the Jesuits were instructed by no less a figure than Ignatius himself on how to approach her and how to behave in her presence – in short, they were first to work through her Spanish entourage and then, when invited into her presence, to speak to her in Spanish and to follow strict Spanish etiquette. The Society eventually succeeded

19 Don Pedro died on 22 February 1553, the same night Eleonora gave birth to her tenth child, Anna, who died within that year. The anonymous diarist of the Cronaca fiorentina remarks that such are the mysterious ways of God: ‘La medesima notte della morte del padre della duchessa nacque una figla a sua Eccellentia, talché il padre non vedde il parto della figluola, né la figla l’ultima partenza del padre da lei di questo mondo, et questi sono i secreti solo appartenenti a Dio’ (p. 150).

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in gaining a foothold at court and in Florence. It was even able to fill the post of personal confessor to Eleonora. At her deathbed on 17 December 1562, Eleonora was comforted by the Jesuit Father Francisco Estrada, who then reported on her passing in a letter to Diego Laínez (Franceschini includes this letter as an appendix to her article). In the end, however, even though Eleonora clearly developed a strong affection for certain Jesuits (Diego Laínez and Diego de Guzmán in particular), she did not wholeheartedly embrace the entire Society nor did she open her heart completely to their particular type of spirituality and devotion. Instead, she remained as elusive to them as she was to others who sought to understand her. With her death we move into the final section of this volume and look at the posthumous Eleonora di Toledo. Our first glimpse into the memory of Eleonora is offered by Mary Westerman Bulgarella, who examines with scientific precision and with the eyes of a textile historian the duchess’s burial clothes. These are not the magnificent robes we see in Bronzino’s state portrait of 1545 (a long-standing misidentification arising from an uninformed comment by the 1857 commission of bureaucrats, doctors, and notaries that examined the remains in the casket), but rather a set of her everyday garments available in Pisa where she died. This is clothing worn in life and not in mint condition. We discover that parts of Eleonora’s dress were recycled, others were crudely repaired, that her body was dressed hurriedly and carelessly by the maids who prepared it for burial, and that it had also visibly shrunk since the time her dress had first been sewn. Westerman Bulgarella’s clinical gaze and lucid prose give us a startling but privileged insight into the everyday reality of Eleonora’s death, the flurry of activity that surrounded it, and the consuming disease that wore her away. Janet Cox-Rearick brings our volume to a close with a more extensive, longer-range view of the posthumous Eleonora. She begins by describing Eleonora’s death, her funeral, and the eulogies composed in her honour. She then discusses Eleonora’s will, drafted the day before she died, to determine how the duchess wished to distribute her personal wealth and, by extension, how she wished to be remembered. She then looks at the posthumous portraits of Eleonora commissioned in her memory by Cosimo and, later, by their sons Francesco I and Ferdinando I. With this tripartite approach CoxRearick is able to illustrate quite clearly the various phases in the process of mythologizing Eleonora. After a first flurry of memorial works and activities that ranged from eulogies to alms-giving and from endowments to posthumous portraits, and after the passing of the generation who knew her directly, especially with the passing of her husband and their children, the memory of the historical Eleonora began to wane. With the extinction in 1737 of the Medici lineage that she had so vigorously revived two hundred years earlier,

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Eleonora ceased to be a beloved ancestor and became an icon of late Renaissance aristocracy. As an icon she is best represented by Bronzino’s famous state portrait of her with her son Giovanni, a portrait that has now become a cliché. We have purposely used a different image for the cover to this volume. Victoria College University of Toronto I would like to thank all the participants at the four ‘Eleonora di Toledo’ sessions I organized for the April 2001 meetings of the Renaissance Society of America in Chicago – speakers and audience alike – for their riveting presentations, engaging discussion, and infectious enthusiasm for the topic. Thanks to their spark this book was conceived, and because of them and scholars like them it was brought into being. In my editorial work I was fortunate enough to benefit from the assistance of Prof Sandra Parmegiani (University of Western Ontario), whom I sincerely thank for her knowledge, wit and precision. Victoria University in the University of Toronto provided much-needed research funding for this project and its Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies gave me, as always, excellent bibliographical and collegial support. The introduction to this volume was written while spending a term as Visiting Professor at the University of Virginia where, in its bucolic setting, I found the otium to bring this work to press. My thanks to all.

Cited Works Allegri, Ettore and Alessandro Cecchi. Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici. Guida storica. Firenze: SPES, 1980. Arrighi, Vanna. ‘Eleonora de Toledo’ vol. 42, pp. 437–441 in Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Rome: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 1960–current. Baia, Anna. Leonora di Toledo, Duchessa di Firenze e di Siena. Todi: Z. Foglietti, 1907. Battaglia, Salvatore. Grande dizionario della lingua italiana. 20 vols. Torino: UTET, 1961–2000. Cantagalli, Roberto. Cosimo I de’ Medici, Granduca di Toscana. Milan: Mursia, 1985. Cronaca fiorentina 1537–1555, ed. Enrico Coppi. Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 2000. The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Ferrai, Luigi A. Cosimo de’ Medici, Duca di Firenze. Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1882. Giovio, Paolo. Lettere, ed. Giuseppe Guido Ferrero (Opera, I–II). 2 vols. Rome: Istituto Poligrafico dello Stato, 1956–8. Grande dizionario enciclopedico UTET. 20 vols. Torino: UTET, 1984–91. Pieraccini, Gaetano. La stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo. Saggio di ricerche sulla

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trasmissione ereditaria dei caratteri biologici. 3 vols. Florence: Vallecchi, 1924–5; repr. Florence: Nardini, 1986. Poesie toscane et latine di diversi eccel. ingegni, nella morte del S.D. Giovanni Cardinale, del Sig. Don Garzia de Medici, et della S. Donna Leonora di Toledo de Medici Duchessa di Fiorenza et di Siena, ed. Ludovico Domenichi. Florence: Torrentino, 1563. Spini, Giorgio. Cosimo de’ Medici e la indipendenza del principato mediceo. 2nd ed. Florence: Vallecchi, 1980. Vasari, Giorgio. Le opere, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1906; repr. Florence: Le Lettere, 1998. Vettori, Piero. Laudatio Eleonorae Cosmi Medices, Floren. ac Sen. ducis, uxoris. Florence: Apud Laurentium Torrentinum, 1562. Vettori, Piero. Orazione di M. Piero Vettori nella morte dell’Illus. et excellen. Donna Leonora di Toledo Duchessa di Firenze et di Siena, trans. Niccolò Mini. Florence: Appresso i figliuoli di Lorenzo Torrentino, 1563. Young, G.F. The Medici. New York: The Modern Library [1930?].

Chapter 1

Veni, sponsa. Love and Politics at the Wedding of Eleonora di Toledo Mary A. Watt

When Eleonora di Toledo died in 1562 she was, according to Cecily Booth, ‘truly mourned, if by few others, by her husband to whom she had been a constant support and consolation.’1 Booth’s account of Cosimo’s life, while somewhat melodramatic in its presentation, is nonetheless consistent with that of most other historians who have commented on one of the most fascinating aspects of Cosimo’s reign: his enduring marriage to his enigmatic Spanish bride. Andrew Minor, for example, notes that by all accounts the marriage was a happy one.2 Contemporary observers considered it extraordinary and remarked upon the couple’s faithful and trusting collaboration. In 1561 Vincenzo Fedeli, the Venetian ambassador in Florence, reported back to his superiors in the Senate that there was not any hint that, since coming to power, Cosimo had ever looked at another woman but his wife – ‘an extremely rare occurrence, if not unique, among princely couples,’ as Vanna Arrighi commented more recently.3 In a time when marriages were rarely contracted for anything other than political or economic motives, the harmonious nature of Cosimo and Eleonora’s marriage was indeed remarkable. From a historical perspective, however, the importance of such marital bliss lies not so much in the personal fulfilment it may have brought to the couple, nor in the wonder it provoked in Cosimo’s circles, but rather in its significance to the cultural and political landscape of Cinquecento Florence. In the wake of the 1537 assassination of his cousin, Duke Alessandro de’ Medici, Cosimo and his advisors considered that among the most immediate 1

Booth, Cosimo I, p. 188. A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 83. 3 ‘Né si sa, dopo ch’egli è prencipe, che l’abbi mai conversato se non con la signora duchessa sua moglie: il che lo fa molto più ammirabile, per esser questa una delle maggiori satisfazioni de’ sudditi ed una delle loro maggiori contentezze.’ Relazioni degli ambasciatori veneti, p. 147; ‘cosa affatto inusitata per i matrimoni principeschi dell’epoca.’ Arrighi, ‘Eleonora di Toledo,’ p. 438. See also Spini, Cosimo I, p. 136. 2

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steps the young Cosimo could take towards restoring Florentine stability was to marry.4 A marriage would, they hoped, sooner rather than later, produce legitimate heirs, indispensable to the re-establishment and continuation of Medici rule in Florence. In the meantime, the public celebrations that generally accompanied princely weddings would provide Cosimo with an early opportunity to present himself as a legitimate heir to the traditional Medici brand of mecenatismo associated with the golden age of Lorenzo the Magnificent. If staged correctly, Cosimo’s nuptials would present not only to his subjects but also to his rivals an effective reminder of Florence’s cultural superiority and political power.

The Search for a Bride In 1538 Giovanni Bandini, Florentine ambassador at the Spanish and Imperial Court, set himself to the task of arranging a ‘proper’ marriage for Cosimo. The choice of bride was an essential element in the effectiveness of Cosimo’s strategy vis-à-vis the marriage and its implications. The young duke’s choice had to reflect his loyalty to Emperor Charles V, but at the same time represent his own political and cultural aspirations for Florence. The concern for demonstrating fealty to the emperor would explain why Cosimo declined an offer from Pope Paul III Farnese to marry his grand-daughter, Vittoria Farnese (1519–1602).5 Cosimo’s first choice, Margaret of Austria, Duke Alessandro’s widow and the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Charles V, would have fulfilled all of his objectives, but the emperor decided instead to marry her to Ottavio Farnese, Pope Paul III’s grandson. Bandini suggested the daughter of the Duke of Milan, a sister of the Spanish Duke of Alba, and a Tudor princess as suitable brides, but none of these proposed unions came about. Cosimo and Bandini then looked to the Neapolitan court. The Spanish Viceroy of Naples, Don Pedro de Toledo, had two marriageable daughters, Isabella and Eleonora. In 1538 Bandini secured approval from Don Pedro for Cosimo to marry Isabella, the older of the two. In a letter to Bandini, however, Cosimo insisted on having the younger daughter, Eleonora, and an agreement to that effect was eventually reached.

4 A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 17. On the political manoeuvring in the wake of Alessandro’s assassination, see Diaz, Il Granducato, pp. 66–83; Cochrane, Florence in the Forgotten Centuries, pp. 13–35; Simonetta, ‘Francesco Vettori.’ On Cosimo’s own skilful manoeuvring in his first few years in power, see Spini, Cosimo I. 5 Vittoria would eventually marry Guidobaldo II della Rovere and become duchess of Urbino (1548).

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Don Pedro’s family, the Alvarez of Toledo, was one of the great families of Spain. Descendants of the ancient kings of Castile, the Alvarez enjoyed a high level of prestige in Italy and abroad. The viceroy himself, Don Pedro, a stern ruler who tolerated little dissension, was admired by Cosimo, who ruled in much the same way. More importantly, both men were loyal to the emperor. Marrying into the Alvarez, therefore, allowed Cosimo to assert his allegiance to the emperor, but also to enjoy the added advantage of an allegiance with a powerful family with connections beyond Italy. Moreover, Don Pedro’s younger daughter, Eleonora, although not the daughter of the emperor, ultimately proved to be the better match, as the nature of her own personality and her relationship with Cosimo allowed him to use the wedding not only as the public celebration of a Medici/Alvarez matrimonial alliance, but also as the inaugural event of his cultural political programme.

Putting the Wedding to Good Use More than a simple opportunity to present Florence with weeks of revelry in the Roman tradition of bread and circuses, the 1539 nuptials of Cosimo and Eleonora represented a highly choreographed and detailed effort on Cosimo’s part to present and establish the parameters of a political strategy and a cultural programme that, together, would constitute the foundations of his continuing power in the decades that followed. Eleonora, virginal, beautiful and, by all accounts, beloved by her husband, became the focal point of the celebrations, the synechdochal representation of Cosimo’s aspirations for Florence, and the symbol of his dreams of a new golden age. That Cosimo made such use of his wedding is not unique. By the late 1400s the festivities accompanying princely weddings had grown to enormous proportions. Often taking place over the course of weeks, these feste were multimedia events that incorporated music, theatre, literature and the plastic arts. The 1472 marriage of Duke Ercole I of Ferrara to Leonora of Aragon, future mother of Isabella d’Este, for example, was marked by elaborate celebrations that took place in several cities over the course of several months. Moreover, the various events within the festa were coordinated so as to underline a basic message. Each of the components, from the procession to the scenography, had, as Robert Rodini points out, an important function in ‘making a statement.’6 Feste were used to celebrate a variety of occasions in Italian Renaissance cities. Those that celebrated events with political significance often combined 6

Rodini, ‘The Festa,’ p. 482.

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a prefatory entry into the city with a theatrical production staged inside a building or in an enclosure, such as in the Boboli Gardens in Florence or, as in the case of Cosimo’s wedding, in the cortile of the Palazzo Medici. In the late 1400s and 1500s feste also regularly incorporated intricate and elaborate allegorical representations aimed, in the case of wedding celebrations, at portraying both the bride and the groom in a particular fashion and accentuating the political benefits and implications of the marriage. The 1501 marriage of Don Alfonso d’Este, who later succeeded his father as duke of Ferrara, to Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander VI, made extensive use of theatrical conceits, incorporating episodes from history and literature to forge an affinity between the parties and previous events in history.7 The celebrations staged in honour of Eleonora and Cosimo were, therefore, not so very different from what one might expect in a marriage of two members of the princely class. It should be noted, however, that by Cosimo’s time, the political aspects of the festa had become even more pronounced than in previous decades, shifting the nature of the event more towards a public relations exercise than a public celebration. As such, the importance of all the imagery and its adherence to a particular political motif were even more pronounced in 1539 than might have been the case decades earlier. As Rodini points out, Whereas in the fifteenth century in Italy, the festa, classical in orientation, celebrated the idealized harmonious accord between Christian faith and civic duty and remained, essentially, a public event, in the sixteenth century and with the growth of absolutism and the city state, the festa became more secular and, as has often been noted, ‘internalized’ and exclusive of the earlier more popular elements.8

This shift is highly evident not only in the way Cosimo staged his wedding celebrations, but also in the way he publicized them. The duke took great pains, for example, to ensure that the events were chronicled, documented and reported to other heads of state. Beyond their obvious promise of renewed stability and prosperity, the celebrations were devised to pronounce and legitimize those policies which would define Cosimo’s regime. To that end, a variety of representations and

7 One such conceit presented the Lucrezia of ancient Rome and declared that she was surpassed in virtue by the current Lucrezia. In another, Paris felt compelled to re-give his judgement when presented with Lucrezia Borgia. And in yet another conceit, a performer dressed in the full regalia of a sultan and situated in a Turkish galley promised, for Lucrezia’s sake, to restore the Holy Land to the Christians. See Brubaker, Court and Commedia, p. 21. 8 Rodini, ‘The Festa,’ p. 482.

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theatrical events, in conjunction with specially commissioned artworks and musical compositions, created unmistakable figural affinities between Cosimo and historical figures in order to reiterate Cosimo’s loyalties, legitimize his political power and give authority to his cultural project. Most often the celebrations sought to link Cosimo to his Medici past. A less expected, yet much more effective, link created by the festivities was that between Cosimo and the Florentine poet Dante Alighieri. Subsequent cultural initiatives undertaken either at Cosimo’s behest or under his immediate direction reinforced this association and thereby underscored the meaning intended by the elaborate wedding celebrations. In the years following the wedding, for example, Cosimo actively promoted the use of the Florentine dialect as a scholarly language, instituted public lectures on Dante and commissioned the painting of the interior of the cupola of the Florentine cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore with scenes from the Divine Comedy.9 In light of these subsequent initiatives on Cosimo’s part, the marriage, the wedding festa and Eleonora’s role within the celebrations emerge as early expressions of a lifelong project that sought to present Cosimo not only as a loyal imperial subject and legitimate heir to Medici greatness, but also as the exile returned, the champion of the Florentine tongue, divinely appointed and inspired by a new Beatrice – a seventeen-year-old beauty who claimed Cosimo’s heart as surely as Bice Portinari had consumed Dante’s.10 Even the start of Eleonora’s journey to Florence (11 June 1539) was carefully chosen for the special significance it held for Cosimo and the Florentines. That day was Cosimo’s twentieth birthday, so the beginning of Eleonora’s voyage suddenly became a marvellous birthday present for the groom eagerly awaiting her arrival. It was also the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Florentine victory over Aretine forces at the battle of Campaldino (11 June 1289). Dante, who reportedly took part in the fighting, recalls the battle in the Divine Comedy in an episode full of gory detail and symbolic potential (Purg. 5:91–129). The start of Eleonora’s journey thus coincided with a day that was not only associated with Florentine military prowess, but also memorialized in Florentine high culture by none other than Dante himself in his most enduring work, the Commedia.

9

Watt, ‘The Reception of Dante,’ passim. In La Vita Nuova, the first of Dante’s works to feature his lady love Beatrice, the poet describes a dream in which Beatrice appears to him as a figure asleep, naked but for a crimson cloth loosely wrapped around her. She is awakened by Love who then compels her to eat the burning object that Love has identified as Dante’s heart. Dante, Vita Nuova, III.II. 10

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The Bride’s Journey to Florence On her journey to Florence, Eleonora passed through a number of cities that were under the control of her betrothed. Travelling by sea from Naples, her first stop in Florentine territory was at Livorno, on 22 June 1539. Here she was welcomed by Onofrio Bartolini de’ Medici, the archbishop of Pisa, who had come to meet her and to accompany her immediately to his city. En route they were met by Cosimo, who had broken with tradition and had rushed ahead to meet her. A contemporary account suggests that the couple were looking forward to seeing each other: Just about midway on that road the two Excellencies met, a most noble and beautiful couple. After marital greetings and caresses they joyfully came into Pisa, where in order to do honor to Her Ladyship, the Duchess, there had been erected triumphal arches and other sumptuous decorations.11

The next few days, 22–24 June, were spent in Pisa, with visits to some of the major towns of the surrounding area. Here Cosimo showed off his bride and the towns in turn paid tribute to the ducal couple. These visits, like so many of the events and actions in Cosimo’s life, had multiple implications. Eleonora’s stops along the way to Florence provided Cosimo with a series of opportunities to assert publicly what Roberto Cantagalli has called his unconditional (incondizionata) but dignified (degnosa) loyalty to the emperor, most obviously through his union with a member of a proimperial family.12 At the same time, the visits gave Cosimo an opportunity to gain the favour of many of the smaller cities of his duchy, as festivities in those places allowed him to bestow entertainment on his subjects. In reality, this grand show of mecenatismo constituted a clear assertion of Cosimo’s role as overlord of the non-Florentine Tuscans. Thus the wedding provided an early example of the symbiosis of culture and politics that would characterize Cosimo’s reign. On 24 June, Cosimo and Eleonora left Pisa for Empoli and, as Pierfrancesco Giambullari reports, ‘At almost every step of the way there were varied, beautiful and infinite decorations.’ On the morning of the 25th, the newlyweds left Empoli for the Medici villa at Poggio a Caiano where they spent 11 ‘E ne ’l mezo quasi di quel cammino, si riscontrò l’una e l’altra Eccellentia, Coppia nobilissima e bella, e dopo le maritali salute e chareze, lietamente se ne vennero in Pisa, nella quale per honorare la Signora Duchessa, erano fatti Archi Trionfali e altri suntuoisi apparati, da Fiorentini e Pisani che con somma allegreza la receverono.’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, p. 4; English translation from A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 98. 12 Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 111.

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several days away from crowds and processions. It was not until 29 June that the couple left Poggio a Caiano for Florence, accompanied by a massive entourage.13 What is notable in Giambullari’s account is not so much the beauty of the couple, which one might easily expect in accounts written by members of the groom’s circle, but the explicit mention of marital bliss. Typically such reports would mention the extent of the celebrations, the magnificence of the costumes, and the sumptuous or exotic nature of the foods offered at the wedding banquets. Such details, obviously, would enhance the reputation of the host and assure rivals of the affluence of the city in question. Since Giambullari had been specially commissioned by Cosimo to write his account, one of two things may be assumed; either that the couple’s happiness was genuine and Cosimo wanted this detail to be reported, or simply that Cosimo wanted Giambullari to report that the couple was in love. Whichever is the case, one can deduce that a visibly happy union was in Cosimo’s interests. Given that Cosimo had earlier sought a union with Margaret of Austria, his public displays of affection towards Eleonora may have been a show of bravado and an assertion of his independence from imperial marriage brokers even as he united his house with that of the viceroy of Naples. As Cantagalli suggests, his marriage to the beautiful daughter of the viceroy of Naples constituted for Cosimo a source of pride and great prestige in the eyes of contemporary powers.14 There are reasons to believe, however, that the couple’s desire to be together may, in fact, have been genuine. First, spending private time together prior to the bride’s entrance into her husband’s city was by no means de rigueur in marriages within the princely stratum, as one sees from the accounts of Lucrezia Borgia’s 1501 marriage to Don Alfonso d’Este. In fact, travelling and staying together was a departure from the customary practice. The fact that Eleonora and Cosimo, after leaving Poggio a Caiano, did not enter the city together rules out logistics as a motivation for their staying 13 ‘Quasi ad ogni passo della strada, erano varij, belli, e infiniti apparati … la seguente mattina che fummo alli XXV, se ne vennero al Poggio a Caiano, divinissimo edifitio, e che ben’ corrisponde alla grandeza della Illustriss. casa de Medici. … E vi si stette lietamente sua Eccellentia fino alla seguente Domenica. … La Domenica sopradetto che fummo alli XXIX, si partirono loro Eccellentie dal Paggio. Et di Firenze cavalcarono i piu nobili Cittadini … Et usciti fuor della porta al Prato per un miglio si scontrarono in sua Eccellentia, che havendo quella mattina desinato a Peretola, tre miglia lontano alla terra: e essendo gia di gran’ peza passato il caldo, con la sua Illustriss. Consorte, lietamente se ne veniva. Dove dopo le debite reverentie e solite cerimonie, tutti di coppia in coppia affettatisi, mossono in verso la Porta con questo ordine.’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, pp. 4–5. 14 Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 112.

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there together. Indeed, their shared sojourn forced the couple to resort to a mildly elaborate ruse wherein Cosimo, after leaving the villa, went directly to Florence while Eleonora lunched at Peretola. Only then did they present themselves officially to Florence as a couple. Arriving in Florence separately seems to have been ‘for appearance’s sake,’ for it allowed Eleonora to make the bride’s traditional approach to the city and, as was the custom, to be met by the groom upon her arrival. There is also reason to believe that Cosimo not only loved his wife, but was so attracted to her as to want to marry her. Contemporary chronicles indicate that he had seen, if not personally met, Eleonora during a visit to Naples prior to the marriage negotiations.15 This, coupled with the fact that Cosimo had rejected her older sister Isabella in favour of Eleonora, would suggest that he chose her for more than strict political advantage. However circumstantial such evidence may be, accounts of their life together following the wedding would seem to confirm that the couple were not only highly compatible, but that they really did love each other. Christopher Hibbert attributes the success of the marriage to similarities in Eleonora’s and Cosimo’s personalities. The duchess, he says, was ‘quite as exacting as her husband,’ as evidenced by the letters written by her servants; letters full of ‘anxious requests for the immediate dispatch of some commodity’ which had not arrived in time or for the replacement of some unsatisfactory article.16 Reports that Eleonora never smiled at her subjects nor addressed a word to them suggests that she was just as sombre as her apparently moody husband.17 During the course of their more than twenty years of marriage, Eleonora was reputed to have been one of the few who could calm Cosimo in his anger or soften his heart to forgiveness. Similarly, Cosimo, considered an exacting taskmaster with little patience, was reputed to have been uncharacteristically soft with his young bride, even indulging, without complaint, her passion for gambling.18 Perhaps even more significant is the absence of any indication of infidelity on Cosimo’s part, supporting the suggestion that while the marriage was politically advantageous to him, it also filled a highly personal need. The question is important since the political implications of a genuine love are even greater than the implications of the appearance of love, especially if we consider the role Eleonora played in the wedding festivities and the role, 15 Florence, Archivio di Stato, Archivio mediceo, ‘Lettere e minute dall’anno 1537 al 1543,’ ff. 122–124. 16 Hibbert, The House of Medici, p. 268. 17 Cantagalli, Cosimo I, p. 112. 18 Hibbert, The House of Medici, p. 269.

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in turn, that their marriage played in Cosimo’s cultural political project. Indeed, a consideration of Eleonora’s role might lead one to believe that Cosimo’s love for her was instrumental in the shaping of his larger vision for Florence. It is not so difficult to imagine that a young Cosimo struck by Eleonora’s beauty might liken the moment of his innamoramento to one of the great moments in the Florentine history of love, akin to Dante’s first glimpse of Beatrice or to Petrarch’s first sight of Laura. For a young man with lofty aspirations, the presence of love, the appearance of a divinely sent muse, might confirm the legitimacy and authority of his vision. Thus, for Cosimo, for whom by all accounts nothing could be divorced from political aspirations, the existence of a genuine love for this beautiful Spanish teenager could only reiterate the rightness of their union and facilitate the role he would have her fulfil in the promotion of his own agenda. That he may actually have loved Eleonora did not detract from this project, but enhanced it. Eleonora’s role in the expansive tableau represented by the wedding celebrations, therefore, was twofold. She stood not only as a reminder of the strength of Cosimo’s political allies and his loyalty to the emperor, but also as the embodiment and legitimization of Cosimo’s cultural aspirations for Florence.

Eleonora at the Gate Eleonora’s entrance into Florence at the Porta a Prato on 29 June 1539 was a defining moment in the imagery of Cosimo’s reign. Though welcomed by artillery fire from the Spanish troops stationed at the nearby Fortezza da Basso, Eleonora was clearly under Cosimo’s dominion, as indeed the fortress itself would also soon be. A vision in crimson satin embroidered with beaten gold,19 Eleonora wore a golden coif and around her neck an ornament given to her by Cosimo. The duke’s ex-tutor, Pierfrancesco Riccio, notes – clearly for the benefit of those who would doubt the extent of Medici wealth – that Eleonora also wore a diamond ring, another gift from Cosimo, with which ‘the Spaniards were well satisfied.’20 The arch through which Eleonora entered was described in detail by the art historian Giorgio Vasari in his life of Niccolò Pericoli called il Tribolo, the 19

A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 99. Cited in Booth, Cosimo I, p. 103. Monsignor Riccio would eventually become one of Cosimo’s secretaries in the administration of Florence, his maggiordomo, and finally dean in the cathedral, in Prato, his place of birth; see Diaz, Il Granducato di Toscana, pp. 90–91. 20

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artist who designed and executed its ornamentation.21 Columns, pilasters, cornices and pediments full of scenes and countless figures adorned the entry, but the most obvious figure, placed upon a pedestal in relief, was a female ‘girded in ancient dress’ representing Fecundity. She was surrounded by five ‘beautiful nude’ children, three about her legs, one on her lap and one in her arms. Fecundity stood between two figures of the same size. On the right, Security leaned on a column with a slender branch in her hand. On the left, Eternity stood with a globe in her arms and with the Sun and the Moon hanging at her neck. Under her feet, Tribolo placed the figure of an old man to represent Time. Lest the meaning of such a configuration remain unclear, Giambullari explains that this ‘plainly represented Time trampled by Eternity.’22 The rest of the arch was decorated with exploits of the Medici family, most notably, their military battles. Beyond the double pilasters that marked the outside corners of the construction, there was on each side a box for musicians and singers who, at Eleonora’s arrival, sang the words that were carved in Latin on the main frieze of the arch: INGREDERE INGREDERE FOELICISS[IMIS] AVSPICIIS VRBEM TVAM HELIONORA AC OPTIMAE PROLIS FOECVNDA ITA DOMI SIMILEM PATRI FORIS AVO SOBOLEM PRODVCAS VT MEDICEO NOMINI EIVSQVE DEVOTISS[IMIS] CIVIBVS SECVRITATEM PRAESTES AETERNAM.

(Come in, come in, under the most favourable auspices, Eleonora, to your city. And, fruitful, in excellent offspring, may you produce descendants similar in quality to your father and forebears abroad, so that you may guarantee eternal security for the Medici name and its most devoted citizenry.)23

The iconographic impact of this moment is inescapable. The grand triumphal arch frames the beautiful young woman in imperial majesty. Surrounded by the military exploits of the Medici, she is adorned, as it were, with the figures of Security, Fecundity and Eternity. Cannons blast and music rings out as she enters the city. Eleonora’s entrance is the pivotal moment in the festa. The success of the festa hinges on it. The preparations and the creation of the festival have removed it from the temporal realm. The secular festa, like its religious counterpart, removes the participants from ordinary time. In this dimension, the world 21

Vasari, Le Opere, 6:86–87. ‘E sotto i piedi un’ canuto Vecchio, co ’l Sole e con la Luna in collo, manifesto segno del tempo, dalla eternita conculcato.’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, p. 7; also cited in A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 100. 23 Giambullari, Apparato et feste, p. 10; cited and translated in A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 103. 22

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functions in a different fashion: timelines are blurred and the allegorical reigns. The present and the past merge in a frenzy of allegory, their meanings fused and revealed through the barrage of images, sounds, scents and flavours of the utopian moment. In the midst of this utopian stasis, Eleonora becomes the incarnation of the static images in which Cosimo’s vision is manifest. In that instant she fulfils all that this particular festa attempts to figure. Giorgio Vasari called her ‘incomparable,’24 yet comparisons were not only possible, but intended. In her eighteenth year and dressed in red, Eleonora could not help but recall Dante’s crimson-draped Beatrice of the Vita nuova (Chapter II.I). The invitation on the Porta a Prato, ‘O come Eleonora’ recalled both the Song of Solomon (‘Veni, de Libano, sponsa mea’ 4,8) and Beatrice’s triumphant appearance at the summit of Mount Purgatory (‘Veni, sponsa, de Libano’ Purg. 30:11). There, too, Beatrice was dressed in red (‘vestita di color di fiamma viva’ Purg. 30:33), the colour of both amor and caritas. To use a term taken from Dante criticism, Eleonora was, therefore, a ‘type’ of Beatrice. Her appearance was explicitly intended to evoke not only the image of Beatrice, but all that she signified. Beatrice was at first Dante’s poetic muse, but later she pointed out for him the way to redemption. She had been sent from heaven to save Dante, to effect his communion with God, to end his wandering. Praise of Beatrice was the way to salvation. By analogy, Cosimo, lover of Eleonora, is a type of Dante, lover of Beatrice, wrongfully exiled from Florence, loyal to the imperial ideal.25 The effectiveness of the moment lies in the sociological power of the festa. The combination of various forms of expression inundated the participants, making them especially susceptible to the projection of utopian ideals. Fabrizio Cruciani, who has referred to the festa as a ‘solipsistic monologue,’ has observed that beyond its manifestation as an externalized occasion to honour someone or a particular moment in the year, the festa projects its utopian ideals onto itself and, in turn, becomes a projection of that ideal, played out not only in the spectacles in the streets but also in the courts, the banquets and on the stage.26 Presenting Eleonora as Beatrice, therefore, defined the nature of this utopia; it set out the precise parameters of the ideal city that Cosimo intended to 24

Vasari, Le Opere, 6:441. For the concept of Cosimo as the Dantean exile who returns see Watt, ‘The Reception of Dante,’ esp. pp. 130–132; for the imperial Ghibelline aspects of Cosimo’s revival of Dante, see pp. 128–130 in the same article. 26 Cruciani, ‘Per lo studio del teatro rinascimentale,’ p. 11. Rodini is of a similar opinion, stating that ‘The site of the festa, usually by the sixteenth century a sala in a princely court, becomes the model or the very transfiguration of an idealized society, in what Franco Ruffini has called a sacred ritual.’ Rodini, ‘The Festa,’ p. 478. 25

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build and rule, and specified the means he intended to use to realize his project. His active promotion of Dante studies through the Florentine Academy, as well as other efforts aimed at rehabilitating the image of Dante, continued the campaign that had its inception at the Prato gate.27 From that moment forward, Cosimo’s Florence would strive to fulfil Dante’s vision of the Florentine Golden Age described in Paradiso 15:88–148. In a subtle, yet effective, move to depose the humanistic ideals that Cosimo associated with Republicanism, Cosimo’s Florence would reflect Dantean precepts, from the superiority of the Florentine dialect as a language of scholarly discourse to Dante’s pro-imperial views as set out in his De Monarchia. The beauty of such a project was that it provided Cosimo with a disinterested yet influential voice to expound, echo and reinforce his own agenda, thereby dispensing with the need to speak on his own behalf. Eleonora’s entrance is thus rife with symbolic possibilities. Within Cosimo’s project for Florence it is a powerful tool, especially given the direct control he, an obsessive planner, had over virtually all aspects of the celebrations, from the number of bridesmaids to how Eleonora and his mother should greet each other.28 In Cosimo’s hands, Eleonora is transformed into his Beatrice, the ennobling force behind a duke who sought to absorb Dante’s legend into his own. Indeed, even Giambullari’s account of Cosimo meeting with Eleonora has Dantesque echoes, fusing Cosimo’s journey with Dante’s. Eleonora is also the means by which Florence will replenish itself and flourish as a city. She is equally proof of the city’s potential, in the person of Cosimo, to attract things of beauty. Finally, she is Cosimo’s gift to Florence, a sample of his forthcoming programme of mecenatismo in the revival of an esteemed part of the Medicean tradition. Eleonora’s entrance, in its full polysemous capacity, is a synechdochal representation of the significance of the marriage itself, emblematic of Cosimo’s political and cultural vision for Florence. Thus, while Eleonora and Cosimo are types of Beatrice and Dante, they will surpass their types and, again to borrow a term from Dante criticism, they will fulfil them. They will bring about the Dantean ideal, end the exile of the loyal citizen and revive the Golden Age, be it that of Lorenzo or the one described by Dante when he speaks of a city that ‘lived in sweet peace, her sons sober and pure’ (Par. 15:99; translated by J. Ciardi).

27 See Watt, ‘The Reception of Dante’ for a more detailed description of Cosimo’s use of Dante in the realization of his political cultural programme. 28 Florence, Archivio di Stato, Archivio mediceo, ‘Minute di lettere,’ filza 2 (10 March 1538/ 39).

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Planning the Festivities for the Wedding In many respects, the wedding itself was not merely the harbinger of this coming golden age, but rather its first expression. Inasmuch as it required Cosimo to enlist the help of innumerable artists, the festa could be seen as proof of his sincerity and of his capacity to revive Florentine cultural hegemony in Italy. Thus it was crucial for Cosimo to attract high-quality artists, musicians, writers, painters and sculptors, to ensure not only the clear delivery of his message, but also its high aesthetic quality. This was no small task. The imperial siege of 1329–30 and then the defeat of the last Florentine republic had induced many of Florence’s best to flee the city and this, in turn, had created a cultural vacuum. As Eric Cochrane lamented, ‘the poor, afflicted city’ had been completely abandoned ‘by those men of quality in which it had once abounded.’ Moreover, the fall of the Republic and the Medici return to power had established what was ‘in all but name a monarchy’29 to which few artists or scholars seemed eager to return, many fearing that free thinking might be curtailed. Michelangelo Buonarroti, for example, considered Cosimo a tyrant and steadfastly refused to come back to Florence after Cosimo’s assumption of power.30 In a madrigal of c. 1545–6, he figured Cosimo’s Florence as a woman in bondage, the unwilling mistress of a tyrant, denied to her true lovers, the worthy men of Florence. – Per molti, donna, anzi per mille amanti creata fusti, e d’angelica forma; or par che ’n ciel si dorma, s’un sol s’appropia quel ch’è dato a tanti. Ritorna a’ nostri pianti il sol degli occhi tuo, che par che schivi chi del suo dono in tal miseria è nato. (For many, even a thousand lovers, Lady, / were you created, with angelic form; / now heaven must be sleeping, / if one can take for himself what was given to many. / Give back to our weeping eyes / the sun of your eyes, which seems to be avoiding / those born in such misery without its gifts.)31

29

Cochrane, Florence, pp. 67 and 10 respectively. Although Michelangelo shunned Cosimo’s invitations to return to Florence, he had not previously shunned those of Pope Clement VII de’ Medici or of Duke Alessandro de’ Medici. Part of the exodus from Florence at the time of the siege, he had, in fact, returned several times to the city even after the Medici restoration to work on the Medici tombs and on the Laurentian Library (1530–31, June 1533, June 1534); but he did not return during Cosimo’s reign. 31 Buonarroti, Rime, poem 249; translation by James Saslow, The Poetry of Michelangelo, p. 423. The dating of this madrigal is Karl Frey’s from Buonarroti, Die Dichtungen, poem 247. 30

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Ever the opportunist, Cosimo used this exodus to his advantage, turning the reconstruction process into an opportunity to hand-pick and control the members of the new cultural and artistic community of Florence. The wedding festivities provided a perfect example of this. Because of the all-encompassing nature of the event, the services of painters, architects, poets, playwrights, musicians and couturiers were all actively recruited. The selection criteria, however, extended beyond talent or prestige to include willingness to serve Cosimo’s objectives. While some of the music was composed by Costanzo Festa, Giovanni Pietro Masaconi, Baccio Moschini and Matteo Rampollini, the vast majority was composed by Francesco Corteccia, who would also spend most of his mature artistic life in Cosimo’s service.32 Hiring musicians of high quality not only enhanced Cosimo’s reputation, but also accentuated the ties to the Medicean ‘golden age’ when the Medici had been actively engaged in the hiring of quality musicians and the development of musical artistry in Florence.33 The conspicuous absence of Philippe Verdelot, one of the ‘most famous of the early madrigal composers,’34 however, was likely due to his not having been asked to contribute because of his strong support of the antiMedici faction.35 Thus, even while seeking to obtain the best, Cosimo’s own political sensitivities were hardly ignored. The shoemaker and literato Giambattista Gelli (1498–1563) and the poet Giovambattista Strozzi (1505–71) were asked to compose the necessary verses. The dramatist Antonio Landi (b. 1506) was chosen to write a comedy to be performed for the new couple. The grammarian and historian Pier Francesco

32 Costanzo Festa (1485x90–1545) was probably of Piedmontese origins; he served for many years (1517–45) as a singer and composer at the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. His connections with Florence would have been primarily through the two Medici popes whom he served and through his friendship with Filippo Strozzi. There is no evidence he was ever in Florence. Matteo Rampollini (Florence, 1497–1553) was master of the boys’ choir at the Duomo in Florence (appointed 1520) and may have been Francesco Corteccia’s composition teacher. The composer and organist Francesco Corteccia (Florence, 1502–71) dominated Florentine musical life for many decades, serving as Maestro di cappella at the Baptistry and at San Lorenzo, and self-styling himself the duke’s Maestro di cappella on account of his extensive contributions to the musical life at the court. Hardly anything is known about Giovanni Pietro Masaconi or Baccio Moschini. 33 D’Accone, ‘The Singers of San Giovanni’; McGee, ‘In the Service of the Commune’; and A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 49. 34 A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 49. 35 Lowinsky, ‘A Newly Discovered,’ pp. 187–8. Verdelot (c. 1475–pre 1552) was born in northern France, but moved to Italy very early in his career. In Florence he served as Maestro di cappella at the Baptistry (1523–25) and at the Duomo (1523–27). There is no clear information as to Verdelot’s whereabouts after 1530.

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Giambullari (1495–1555) was enlisted to document the entire proceedings. In the years following the wedding Gelli, Landi and Giambullari would all become important members of Cosimo’s Florentine Academy, which suggests that by 1539 Cosimo was already gathering together a literary circle that would work with him to further his cultural political agenda. The choice of Strozzi is perhaps the most obviously political one, as the move quite possibly represented a gesture of clemency on Cosimo’s part towards the Strozzi family, many of whom remained outside Florence in opposition to Cosimo. Alternatively, it may have been a conciliatory gesture on the part of Strozzi himself. While historians are not certain which it was, the inclusion of Giovambattista Strozzi is indicative of the atmosphere of reconciliation and the trope of return from exile that Cosimo would continue to foster throughout his reign. Much of the scenery for Landi’s comedy, Il Commodo, was the work of Bastiano da San Gallo, also known as Aristotile (1481–1551), who had done scenery for the comedy performed in 1518 to celebrate the marriage of Lorenzo de’ Medici, Duke of Urbino, to Madeleine de la Tour d’Auvergne. Bastiano had also done the scenery for Lorenzino de’ Medici’s comedy L’Aridosia, performed in 1536 to celebrate the marriage of Duke Alessandro de’ Medici to Margaret of Austria, daughter of Emperor Charles V.36 Thus, securing the same stage designer for his own wedding to a Spanish princess ensured that Cosimo’s event was comparable to those of his Medici predecessors who had married into the royal houses of France and Austria. More specifically, it also meant that his wedding to Eleonora would be at least as grand as the wedding of Duke Alessandro to the woman whom the emperor had refused to give to Cosimo. For the performance at Cosimo’s wedding, Bastiano recreated the city of Pisa in the cortile of the Palazzo Medici. Apart from the artistic merit in such a project, it would be difficult to miss the subtext: Cosimo was the builder of cities and Pisa, for one, existed at the will of Florence. Similarly, the construction easily suggested that Cosimo controlled the sun as it rose and set on Pisa for, according to Vasari, Bastiano da San Gallo had constructed an ingenious wooden lantern like an arch behind the buildings, and a sun a braccia high made of a crystal ball filled with distilled water, with two lighted torches behind. [This artificial sun] illuminated the sky of the scenery and the perspective so that it looked like a veritable sun. It was surrounded by golden rays

36 A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 34. Lorenzino de’ Medici (alias Lorenzaccio), is better remembered as the murderer of Duke Alessandro de’ Medici (6 January 1537) and the victim, himself, of Duke Cosimo’s hired assassin (1548).

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covering the curtain, and was managed by a windlass, so as to rise to the meridian in the middle of the play, and sink in the west at its end.37

Indeed, Pisa’s submission to Florence was underscored in the theatrical presentation that followed the wedding banquet when the cities under Florentine dominion appeared in an allegorical procession: as the figure of Pisa entered, a singer dressed as Apollo sang a series of stanzas while Pisa, bearing gifts and offering her agricultural products to Florence, honoured the bridal couple. The exterior decorations, including the triumphal arch erected at the Prato gate, were overseen and in many cases executed by il Tribolo. Working under him were Pier Francesco di Sandro, Francesco d’Ubertino called il Bachiacca (1494–1557), Domenico Conti, Antonio di Domenico, Agnolo Bronzino (1503–72) and the Venetian Battista Franco called Semolei (1498–1561). Bronzino, who would later paint the celebrated 1544 portrait of Eleonora with her son Giovanni,38 eventually became essential to the preservation and dissemination of visual images of Cosimo’s family and an integral part of the propaganda of Cosimo’s greatness. The seeds of Cosimo’s plans for reviving the cultural and artistic life of Florence, while promoting and endorsing his own leadership, are thus already evident in the preparation for his wedding festivities. At the same time, the dual purpose served by the celebrations confirms the near impossibility of extricating Cosimo’s political agenda from his cultural project. Although this would become especially true later in his reign, as early as 1539 it is already difficult to distinguish the point where Cosimo’s desire to impress other heads of state with the quality of his artists ends and where his desire to impress them with Florentine superiority begins. Such a distinction may, in fact, not even be legitimate. Accordingly, when we consider the themes of the plays and the recitations that were performed to celebrate the marriage, we ought to bear this duality in mind. Richard Trexler has noted that the post-republic ‘monarchy’ seen especially in Cosimo’s regime aimed to erase any understanding of even the most

37 ‘Appresso ordinò con molto ingegno una lanterna di legname a uso d’arco dietro a tutti i casamenti, con un sole alto un braccio, fatto con una palla di cristallo piena di acqua stillata, dietro la quale erano due torchi accesi, che la facevano in modo risplendere, che ella rendeva luminoso il cielo della scena e la prospettiva in guisa, che pareva veramente il sole vivo e naturale; e questo sole, dico, avendo intorno un ornamento di razzi d’oro che coprivano la cortina, era di mano in mano per via d’un arganetto tirato con sì fatt’ordine, che a principio della comedia pareva che si levasse il sole, e che salito infino al mezzo dell’arco scendesse in guisa, che al fine della comedia entrasse sotto e tramonta.’ Vasari, Le opere, 6:442; translation from A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 75. 38 For Eleonora’s portrait, see Gabrielle Langdon, ‘A “Laura” for Cosimo’, in this volume.

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obvious works of its humanist predecessors. Rather than asserting the beauty and glory of mankind, Cosimo was more interested in quelling opposition and in maintaining a scholarly community that would exalt the glories of his own reign.39 It is not surprising, then, that Giambullari’s account, commissioned by Cosimo to document the festivities, continually refers to the many images intended to glorify Emperor Charles V and to recall the military victories of the Medici ancestors. The fact that the account is addressed to Giovanni Bandini, Florentine ambassador at the Imperial Court, shows that Cosimo wanted certain details to be made known to his protector Charles V.

The Wedding Banquet The inextricable relationship that Cosimo fostered between culture and politics is especially discernible in the festivities that accompanied the wedding banquet in the second cortile of the Palazzo Medici. The entrance gate had been decorated with the coat of arms of the houses of Medici and Toledo, joined together and embraced by the Hapsburg eagle. The extent and importance of this relationship is clearly seen in the subject matter and the composition of the majority of the paintings commissioned to decorate the palazzo for the occasion. Typically, they depicted the lives of Cosimo and other Medici, but the addition of inscriptions, subtitles as it were, taken from classical sources, made more than implicit the connection and parallels between the actions of the Medici with those of great men of antiquity. Beyond the parallels intended to enhance the Medici reputation, the paintings were also intended to underline and magnify the role of Emperor Charles V in the present and future Medici fortunes. Depictions of Charles V as a new Caesar Augustus signalled the end to any republican notions that might have lingered among the Florentines. A close examination of the relationship of the palazzo decorations to the significance of the event being celebrated reveals that the wedding celebrations represent an early paradigm for the cultural political programme Cosimo was to bring to full fruition in the years following his marriage to Eleonora. The strong focus on pro-imperial sentiment and its propagation through the

39 Trexler points to the example of Michelangelo’s New Sacristy and says that admirers of Michelangelo escorting visitors through the New Sacristy in the time of Cosimo I ‘were at a loss to explain its meaning. Pope Leo X had started the Chapel of the Resurrection in 1521 to represent the journey of Florence and the Medici family toward eternity.’ The New Sacristy, Trexler suggests, had been meant to summarize a political culture; under Cosimo, instead, it was merely, if triumphantly, beautiful.’ Trexler, Public Life, p. 549.

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evocation of ancient images, Dantesque figurae, and emblems made Cosimo’s loyalties clear. Other decorations, however, express Florentine strength and resilience along with the position Cosimo wanted Florence to occupy within Charles V’s empire. One image in particular is significant; a new shoot emerging from the stump of an old, bent and broken laurel tree, emblazoned with the motto ‘uno avulso,’ a reference to Virgil’s Aeneid: primo avulso non deficit alter aureus et simili frondescit virga metallo. (Pluck one branch and / Another sprouts unfailingly, as pure / A golden twin)40

The device also appeared on a medal reportedly worn by Cosimo, and alludes to the assassination of Duke Alessandro and consequent succession of Cosimo, the scion of the younger branch of the Medici family. Initially, it would seem that the emblem and its meaning are predominantly political, reiterating the regenerative nature of Medici power. But it also had other aspects. The choice of Virgil, a close friend of Caesar Augustus, suggested Cosimo’s similar tendency to imperial fealty and underscored the encomiastic messages that characterized the festivities. At the same time, the choice of a laurel tree, commonly associated with poetry and the arts, signals the importance that Cosimo assigned to culture, together with its close connection to his political aspirations. The fact that the laurel, an evergreen, seemingly defies death was an important aspect of its figural connotations. Its specific evocation of Medicean history and heritage, however, was just as immediate. The etymological connection between the laurel and Lorenzo the Magnificent (d. 1492) was but one example of the figural connection between the plant and the family. Its recall in the marriage festivities served to exploit this affinity further. The link between Virgil and Cosimo, however, served yet another purpose. It provided another allusion to Cosimo’s affinity for Dante, an avowed disciple of Virgil yet also his heir. The absorption of Virgil into Cosimo’s project forges an implicit affinity between Virgil, friend to Augustus, Dante, who condemns Brutus because he betrayed Julius Caesar (Inf. 34:64–7), and Cosimo, loyal to Emperor Charles V. While the cultural presence of Dante and its implicit anti-republican stance would grow stronger in the 1540s, the early use of Virgilian motifs to promote an imperial stance links Cosimo to an

40 Virgil, Aeneid, Book VI, vv. 143–144; English translation from The Aeneid, translated by Dickinson, p. 124.

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even more distant past than that of his illustrious ancestor Lorenzo the Magnificent. The intentional connection between Cosimo’s Florence and the greatness of Rome is evident in the last stanzas of the post-banquet entertainments, ‘So that, like the Tiber and Rome, the fame of the Arno and of Flora may now go up to Heaven.’41 Eleonora’s role as a breathing image in this highly complex iconographic allegorical programme is, therefore, not coincidental. Images and literary allusions were meticulously orchestrated to create in the minds of the Florentines a clear connection from Cosimo to Dante and, further back, to Virgil. Presenting Eleonora as Beatrice, whom Virgil, in the Divine Comedy, calls a ‘lady of virtue,’ (Inf. 2:76) is an essential component in this configuration. Further, the imagery of the celebrations was aimed precisely at making a connection between the importance of the Virgilian/Dantean tradition to the cultural and political revival of Florence and the parallel importance of Eleonora’s fecundity in rebuilding the Medici family. The appearance of Apollo at the wedding banquet made abundantly clear the connection between the laurel and the significance of the marriage with Eleonora. Dressed in crimson taffeta, a lyre in one hand and a bow in the other, wearing a green laurel crown, the god of poetry entertained wedding guests with Gelli’s songs. ‘But now, thanks to you, beautiful couple, there arises a new sprout that renews the lost leaves and gives life to infirm parts.’42 The banquet songs celebrate the ‘sacred matrimony celebrated with amorous zeal,’43 but all accounts suggest that the festivities focused more on the ‘amorous zeal’ than on the sacred nature of the union. In fact, there is remarkably little mention of the religious aspects of the event. Although Eleonora, after her entrance at the Prato gate, was presented to Archbishop Andrea Buondelmonti in the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore for a formal blessing, little is said about the role of the church in these events. In contrast to the proxy marriage that had taken place earlier in Naples, the actual ceremony in the Basilica of San Lorenzo, the traditional Medici place of worship, received little attention. Instead, the decorations and the accounts that record them make continuous reference to Cosimo’s lineage and the recuperative and reproductive possibilities of his marriage to Eleonora. Thus, even in the most lavish of entertainments, Cosimo never lost sight of his 41 ‘Onde al pari del Tebro, et Roma, ancora / Vada la fama al Ciel’ d’Arno et di Flora.’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, p. 63; translated in A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 217. 42 ‘Ma hor (vostra Mercè) coppia si bella / Risorge à tanta stirpe un nuovo Germe, / Che le perdute frondi rinnovella; / Et rende vive le sue parte inferme.’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, pp. 38–39; translated in A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 144. 43 ‘Et veggend’hoggi insieme celebrarvi le sacre Nozze in amoroso zelo,’ Giambullari, Apparato et feste, p. 37; translated in A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 143.

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political goal or the role that Eleonora was to play in its realization. Her youth and beauty provided not only a figural complement to his intention that the tree stump should sprout a new branch, but also its fulfilment – Eleonora, in fact, bore Cosimo eleven children.44

Conclusion By all accounts, Eleonora willingly undertook her role as symbol of both Cosimo’s political and cultural aspirations and worked alongside him to attain them. It seems that Cosimo had an ardent yet tender passion for his young consort and that throughout their marriage he was constant and faithful to her.45 Yet, in spite of his efforts to present her as a symbol of love and renewal, there are indications that the Florentines never saw in her what Cosimo did. Notwithstanding her sparkling entry through the Prato gate – where she represented a new Beatrice, a tender laurel leaf, a secure link in the chain of imperial fealty – Eleonora remained, by most accounts, a foreigner to them, a stranger who smiled only at her Spanish handmaids. The Florentine reluctance to embrace Eleonora did not, however, lead Cosimo to abandon her, or the agenda she personified for him. He held fast to his vision and clung to her. When she died in his arms, the cultural vision she had embodied was by no means extinguished. Like Dante’s Beatrice, Eleonora remained a strong presence in Florence, a posthumous icon of the ageless Florentine marriage of love and politics. University of Florida Gainesville, FL

44 See Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, pp. xxx–xxxi for an accurate Medici family tree. 45 ‘Tutto fa pensare … che fra quel giovanotto robusto di venti anni e quella graziosa diciassettenne sia nato davvero un amore sincero, che durò quanto la vita stessa di Eleonora. I due sposi furono un modello di fedeltà reciproca, a parte il fatto che misero insieme una decina di figli addirittura.’ Spini, Cosimo I, p. 136.

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Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence. Archivio di Stato. Archivio mediceo, ‘Lettere e minute dell’Anno 1537 al 1543’ Archivio mediceo, ‘Minute di lettere’ 2

Published Sources Alighieri, Dante. The Purgatorio, trans. John Ciardi. New York: Penguin, 1961. Alighieri, Dante. The Paradiso, trans. John Ciardi. New York: Penguin, 1970. Alighieri, Dante. The Inferno, trans. John Ciardi. New York: Penguin, 1982. Alighieri, Dante. Vita Nuova, ed. Edoardo Sanguinetti. Milan: Garzanti, 1988. Alighieri, Dante. Vita Nuova, trans. Mark Musa. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Allegri, Ettore and Alessandro Cecchi. Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici: guida storica. Florence: SPES, 1980. Arrighi, Vanna. ‘Eleonora di Toledo,’ vol. 42, pp. 437–441 in Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1960–current. Booth, Cecily. Cosimo I Duke of Florence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1921. Brubaker, David. Court and Commedia: The Italian Renaissance Stage. New York: Richard Rosen, 1975. Buonarroti, Michelangelo. Die Dichtungen des Michelangelo Buonarroti, ed. Karl Frey. Berlin: Grote, 1897. Buonarroti, Michelangelo. Rime, ed. Enzo Noè Girardi. Bari: Laterza, 1967. Buonarroti, Michelangelo. The Poetry of Michelangelo, trans. James M. Saslow. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1991. Cantagalli, Roberto. Cosimo I de’ Medici, Granduca di Toscana. Milan: Mursia, 1985. Cochrane, Eric. Florence in the Forgotten Centuries 1527–1800. A History of Florence and the Florentines in the Age of the Grand Dukes. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1973. Cruciani, Fabrizio. ‘Per lo studio del teatro rinascimentale: la festa,’ Biblioteca teatrale 5 (1972), pp. 1–16. D’Accone, Frank A. ‘The Singers of San Giovanni in Florence during the 15th Century,’ Journal of the American Musicological Society 14:3 (1961), pp. 307– 358. Diaz, Furio. Il Granducato di Toscana. I Medici. Torino: UTET, 1987. Giambullari, Pierfrancesco. Apparato et feste nelle nozze dello Illustrissimo Signor Duca di Firenze, & della Duchessa sua consorte, con le sue Stanze, Madriali, Comedia, & Intermedij, in quelle recitati. Florence: Benedetto Giunta, 1539. Hibbert, Christopher. The House of Medici. Its Rise and Fall. New York: Morrow, 1975. Langdon, Gabrielle. ‘A “Laura” for Cosimo: Bronzino’s Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni,’ pp. 40–70 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004.

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Lowinsky, Edward E. ‘A Newly Discovered Sixteenth-Century Motet Manuscript at the Biblioteca Vallicelliana in Rome,’ Journal of American Musicological Society 3:3 (1950), pp. 173–232. McGee, Timothy J. ‘In the Service of the Commune: The Changing Role of Florentine Civic Musicians, 1450–1532,’ Sixteenth Century Journal 30:3 (1999), pp. 727– 743. Relazioni degli ambasciatori veneti al Senato, ed. Arnaldo Segarizzi. Vol. 3 ‘Firenze’, pt 1. Bari: Gius. Laterza e figli, 1916. A Renaissance Entertainment. Festivities for the Marriage of Cosimo I, Duke of Florence, in 1539, eds Andrew C. Minor and Bonner Mitchell. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1968. Rodini, Robert J. ‘The Festa and Theater: A Decade of Research,’ Forum Italicum 14:3 (1980), pp. 476–484. Simonetta, Marcello, ‘Francesco Vettori, Francesco Guicciardini and Cosimo I: The Prince after Machiavelli,’ pp. 1–8 in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Spini, Giorgio. Cosimo I de’ Medici e la indipendenza del principato mediceo. Collana storica, 52. Florence: Vallecchi, 1945. Trexler, Richard C. Public Life in Renaissance Florence. New York: Academy Press, 1980. Vasari, Giorgio. Le Opere, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1973. Virgil. Aeneid, trans. H.E. Gould and J.L. Whiteley. London: Macmillan/New York: St Martin’s Press, 1950. Virgil. The Aeneid, trans. Patrick Dickinson. New York and Toronto: The New American Library, 1961. Watt, Mary Alexandra. ‘The Reception of Dante in the Time of Cosimo I,’ pp. 121– 134 in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001.

Chapter 2

A ‘Laura’ for Cosimo: Bronzino’s Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni Gabrielle Langdon

In the wake of the end-of-century surge of critical appreciation of Bronzino’s art it was almost inevitable that the impact of his prolific poetic talents on his art would draw increased attention.1 This study explores the juncture at which the two strands of his creative gifts interacted and complemented the intentions of his Medici patrons in the official Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni (Figures 2.1–2.3). It is proposed that, in it, Bronzino’s Petrarchism and Medici cultural and political agendas merged to create a landmark development in state portraiture, one that incorporates a Petrarchan tribute to Cosimo’s beloved duchess. In effect, the portrait stands as a ‘Laura’ for Cosimo.

Bronzino’s Petrarchism In the Medici ducal court, a spirited Petrarchan revival was instituted by Cosimo’s Accademia Fiorentina, inaugurated on 25 March 1541 to give cultural lustre to the political triumphs of his early reign. Bronzino was a founding member and the brilliant historian Benedetto Varchi – the Academy’s leading light from 1543 – had been his close friend from the 1530s. As early as 1539, Varchi had praised Bronzino for his prodigious feat in memorizing both Dante and Petrarch: … you both [Tribolo and Bronzino] enjoy and understand poetic matters, especially Bronzino, as is shown not only in his compositions, but also by the fact that

1 See Smith, ‘Bronzino’s Laura’; Plazzotta, ‘Bronzino’s Laura’; Kirkham, ‘Dante’s Phantom’; and Parker, Bronzino, pp. 96–103.

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Bronzino’s Eleonora

Figure 2.1

41

Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, 1545, oil on panel, 119 × 96 cm, Florence, Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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Figure 2.2

Gabrielle Langdon

Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, detail: face (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

Bronzino’s Eleonora

Figure 2.3

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Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni, detail: dress (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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Gabrielle Langdon he has memorized the whole of Dante and a great part of Petrarch, far beyond what would perhaps seem credible to people who do not understand that, just as poetry is nothing other than a speaking picture, so painting is nothing more than mute poetry.2

Panel portraits of Lorenzo Lenzi, Ugolino Martelli, Bartolomeo Panciatichi, Lucrezia Panciatichi, Laura Battiferra and Luca Martini also attest to Bronzino’s intimacy with prominent Florentine literati, as do his Medici frescoes, which are peppered with portraits of academicians in the guise of biblical personages.3 Bronzino’s patronage reflects his erudition. Vasari records portraits of Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio for Bartolommeo Bettini’s villa in the early 1530s, from which the Dante in Washington survives.4 His Laura Battiferra (Figure 2.4), painted about thirty years later, stands as a comprehensive tribute to Battiferra’s stature as a poet: her profile is cast in Dante’s image, and she holds Petrarch’s Canzoni 64 and 140 open to view.5 Bronzino’s poetic output – second only to Michelangelo’s – was published from 1538. The Dante and Laura Battiferra panels form parentheses around his most productive years as ducal court painter. This period, in which his Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni was executed, also witnessed a flowering of petrarchismo in women’s portrayal.

2 Parker, Bronzino, p. 17, quotes Varchi’s letter of 1 May 1539. See Cecchi, Bronzino, p. 20, for Varchi’s nearly identical dedication to his translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Bk. XIII, published in 1539. On the precept ut pictura poësis, implicit in Varchi’s tributes, see Land, The Viewer as Poet, pp. 3–24; for Renaissance responses to art embodied in literature, including Petrarch’s, see Cranston, Poetics, pp. 23–24. Kirkham, ‘Poetic Ideals,’ p. 50, makes it clear that Dante’s canons for Beatrice, and ultimately the mediaeval troubadours’ idealization of women, had laid the foundation for Petrarch’s refined verses. For efforts to promote Dante’s volgare in the Accademia Fiorentina, see Watt, ‘The Reception of Dante.’ 3 See Cropper, ‘Prolegomena’; Cecchi, ‘Il Bronzino, Benedetto Varchi e l’Accademia’; and for colour plates, Cecchi, Bronzino, plates 7, 24, 57, 58, 69 and 70. His frescoes in the Chapel of Eleonora include Pierfrancesco Riccio as Joshua in The Crossing of the Red Sea (ibid., colour plates 30 and 31). Pierfrancesco Giambullari and Giovambattista Gelli are identified as Moses and Abraham respectively in Bronzino’s Christ in Limbo in Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, Figure 187; Robert Gaston identified Joseph of Arimathaea in the Lamentation for the Chapel as Benedetto Varchi; Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 386, n. 64. For a recent bibliography on the Accademia, see Parker, Bronzino, pp. 16–18; The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I, passim. For Varchi’s influence on Bronzino’s portraiture, see Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ Chapters 1 and 5. 4 Such triple portrait sets had currency: Bembo’s was borrowed in 1502 by Isabella d’Este to be copied for her Mantuan residence. Klinger Aleci, ‘Images of Identity,’ p. 211, n. 80. 5 See n. 1.

Bronzino’s Eleonora

Figure 2.4

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Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Laura Battiferra, 1555–60, oil on panel, 83 × 60 cm, Florence, Palazzo Pitti (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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Petrarchism in Cinquecento Portraiture Canons of beauty woven through Petrarch’s poems have been recognised as highly influential in portrayal of women from the early Cinquecento, when they were given enormous impetus by circulation of Pietro Bembo’s lofty imitations. Elizabeth Cropper’s landmark study of 1976 explored the relationship between Renaissance portrayals of beautiful women and growth in neo-Petrarchan verse; Mary Rogers’s 1986 study of literary canons for women drew on Northern Italian portraits and poetry that extolled them; her study of women’s decorum in books of manners followed in 1988.6 She proposed that from Bellincioni’s poetic praises of Leonardo’s Cecilia Gallerani, Pietro Bembo’s of a Bellini Lady, Aretino’s of Titian’s Eleonora Gonzaga and Giovanni della Casa’s of Titian’s Elisabetta Querini Massola, writers had habitually reused motifs from Petrarch’s two sonnets extolling Simone Martini’s portrait of Laura.7 Petrarch’s poem 77 suggests that Simone had visited her in Paradise in order to portray her, while poem 78 yearns to endow the portrait with voice and intellect, recalling Pygmalion’s infatuation with his beautiful ivory statue of Galatea that was brought to life in response to his pleadings with Venus.8 Petrarchan canons of womanly beauty became widely entrenched in the sixteenth century, and the metaphors used by writers to praise women revealed much about contemporary attitudes to female portrayal. Petrarch’s unrequited yearnings for response from his dead, idealized Laura were the vehicle for all these poetic tropes.9 Cropper points out that, typically, a Renaissance portrait of a beautiful woman was an essay on womanly perfection responding to the viewer’s expectations of canons created in this climate.10 6 Cropper, ‘On Beautiful Women,’ of 1976 was augmented by ‘The Beauty of Women’ of 1986 and expanded upon in ‘The Place of Beauty in the High Renaissance’ of 1995 and then, more recently, in her introduction to Concepts of Beauty in Renaissance Art of 1998; see Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ and ‘The Decorum of Women’s Beauty.’ 7 Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ p. 291. Bembo’s poems, composed around 1500, imitated Petrarch’s sonnets on Simone’s Laura; Shearman rejects the Woman (Venus?) at her Toilet (Vienna) as their subject; see his Only Connect, pp. 142–143. For della Casa’s ‘Ben veggio io, Tiziano,’ on the portrait of Elisabetta Querini, see Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ p. 302 and Shearman, Only Connect, p. 147. 8 Both sonnets were written before 1336. For analyses, see Parker, Bronzino, pp. 81–83, and Kirkham ‘Poetic Ideals’, p. 57. For later imitations, see Land, The Viewer as Poet, pp. 81–82. For Bronzino’s Pygmalion and Galatea, probably a cover for Pontormo’s Francesco Guardi, see Cecchi, Bronzino, colour plate 15; Cropper, Pontormo, pp. 92–94. For the numismatic origins of allegorical portrait covers, see Cranston, Poetics, p. 20. 9 Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ p. 291. 10 Cropper, ‘The Beauty of Women,’ pp. 179–181.

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It seemed improbable that Cosimo’s poet-portraitist would have been untouched by these developments. Study of women’s portraits from Cosimo’s court suggested that Bronzino’s Petrarchan erudition was not isolated from his creative output in painting.11 Petrarchan canons for beauty set out below inform Quattrocento Tuscan portraits such as Botticelli’s Simonetta Vespucci (?) of around 1480 and Neroccio de’ Landi’s Lady of about 1490.12 Puligo’s lovely portrait of about 1526 of Machiavelli’s mistress, the cultivated courtesan Barbara Salutati (Figure 2.5) shows her with a musical part-book open to two of her compositions on mutual love.13 Nearby, her inspiration, a volume of Petrarch open to poem 213 eulogizes a lady of humble birth, high intellect, musical giftedness, and impeccable moral standing.14 Through Puligo’s manipulative perspective, we ‘occupy’ Machiavelli’s chair, becoming intimately apprised of Barbara’s musical pursuits and the humanist tastes of her circle. Andrea del Sarto’s engaging Portrait of a Girl with a petrarchino in hand demonstrates a less sophisticated example.15 Bronzino’s Lorenzo Lenzi of about 1530 holds open Varchi’s Petrarchan sonnet; his Ugolino Martelli, of about 1540, displays a volume of Bembo.16 These genuflections to Petrarch were widespread in portraiture. Neither del Sarto’s nor Puligo’s woman is transformed, however, into a remote ‘Laura,’ as Eleonora (and, later, Battiferra) would be, and the contrast they make with the iconic, aloof Eleonora is striking.

11 See Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women’ vol. 1, pp. 36–40; 174–178 (Petrarchism in Pontormo’s Maria Salviati with a Book); pp. 222–239 and 244–248 (in Bronzino’s Eleonora di Toledo with her Son Giovanni); and II, pp. 302–303 (in Bronzino’s Bia de’ Medici). Tinagli, Women in Renaissance Art, pp. 85–86, 88–89, and 98–100 explored canons in portrayal of women, especially in widespread imitations of Petrarch’s two sonnets to Simone’s Laura. See also Mann ‘Petrarch and Portraits,’ pp. 18–19; Land, The Viewer as Poet, pp. 85–86. 12 In Frankfurt and Washington respectively. See Virtue and Beauty, cat. no. 28, pp. 182–184; Campbell, ‘Renaissance Portraits,’ figures 102–103. 13 Slim identified the two visible compositions, one with text from the Song of Songs (‘How beautiful you are, my love … ’), the other the popular ‘J’ayme bien mon amy de bonne amour certaine’ (‘I love my friend well / With a fine and true love.’) Slim, ‘A Motet,’ pp. 462–467. 14 Barbara, who was not exclusively Machiavelli’s mistress, was generous with her charms. See Fenlon and Haar, The Italian Madrigal, p. 43. Rogers, ‘Fashioning Identities,’ pp. 94 and 101, n. 22, translates Latin inscriptions in the portrait from the Song of Solomon, Aeneid Book IX and Ovid’s Metamorphoses. 15 See Smith, ‘Bronzino’s Portrait of Laura Battiferri,’ p. 32; Plazzotta, ‘Bronzino’s Laura,’ p. 259. 16 See Cecchi, Bronzino, pp. 6 and 20, colour plates 7 and 24; Plazzotta, ‘Bronzino’s Laura,’ p. 255. An Aldine version of Petrarch’s poems was published in 1501; see Burgassi, Edizioni aldine, p. 14 (I thank Antonio Ricci for this reference). Bembo’s imitations appeared in print in 1530.

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Figure 2.5

Gabrielle Langdon

Domenico Puligo, Portrait of Barbara Salutati Fiorentina, c. 1526 (by permission of the Salmond Collection, Salisbury)

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Petrarchism in Bronzino’s Portraiture Mastery of petrarchismo had become tantamount to a social calling card.17 Bronzino’s most admired verses, his rime in burla, however, lampoon in irreverent, homoerotic contexts Petrarch’s and Bembo’s idealistic tributes to unresponsive, unattainable, chaste reincarnations of Laura. Ironically, these capitoli demonstrate Bronzino’s confident mastery of the Petrarchan idiom.18 In a circle where ludic talent was appreciated, he skewered Petrarch. Such a taste for learned ribaldry may have had Cosimo’s sanction: it harkens back to Lorenzo the Magnificent’s comic, rustic romp, Nencia da Barberino, written around 1470 to applaud both Petrarch and Ficino.19 Steeped now in the questione della lingua – the codification of the Italian vernacular – Bronzino’s literary coterie understood that the Petrarchan revival revolved around purity of language and Cosimo’s determined promotion of the Tuscan vernacular to claim cultural hegemony for Florence: promotion of the great Tuscan writers was the touchstone for this effort.20 Bronzino knew his Petrarch thoroughly. His canonical Petrarchan verses (see Appendix A to this chapter) have painted echoes in such exquisite tributes as his posthumous Portrait of Bia (Figure 2.6), Cosimo’s natural daughter, of about 1543. A haloed vision dressed in light-emitting white satin and pearls – a metaphor for her name Bianca and echoing Cesare Ripa’s Innocenza – his Bia epitomizes Bronzino’s own ‘Nuova Angioletta’, penned on the death of her half-sister, Lucrezia de’ Medici, in 1561: Nuova Angioletta, che l’umano scarco Leggiadro velo, al tuo celeste albergo Volasti lieta, noi smarriti a tergo 17

Parker, Bronzino, p. 43. Parker, Bronzino, pp. 14–39, and Cecchi, Bronzino, pp. 47 and 71. Only a handful of his lyrical canzoniere has appeared in print. 19 See Kirkham, ‘Poetic Ideals,’ pp. 58–59. Francesco Berni’s burlesque capitoli had tremendous influence in the Cinquecento, but the Accademia Fiorentina’s parodic climate stemmed directly from its own ludic wellspring, the Umidi of the late 1530s, of which Bronzino had been a founder member. See Zanrè ‘Ritual and Parody,’ pp. 188–189; 195–196. 20 Florentines had long argued for Tuscan as the national tongue, but they were not alone in doing so. In his Prose della volgar lingua of 1525, the Venetian Pietro Bembo called for Petrarch and Boccaccio’s writings to be used as models for the codification of a national Italian language. See A Concise Encyclopaedia of the Italian Renaissance, pp. 15 and 176–177. The questione della lingua would engross the new Medici generation, notably Grand Duke Francesco I and his sister Isabella de’ Medici Orsini; see Saltini, ‘Due principesse,’ V, p. 213. On Isabella, see Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ vol. 2, pp. 346–372. Fantoni, La Corte del Granduca, p. 256, recognized the questione as the culmination of Medicean contribution to the arts, science, historiography, music, linguistic study, theatre, and staging of public spectacle. 18

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Figure 2.6

Gabrielle Langdon

Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Bia de’ Medici, c. 1542, oil on panel, 59 × 45 cm, Florence, Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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Lasciando in doglia, e con sì grave incarco; (New little angel, who released from the human [state] Gracefully flew to your celestial abode, You flew happily, leaving us behind Confused [and] in pain, and with such a heavy burden) (my translation)21

Petrarch’s poem 106 cannot have been far from Bronzino’s Petrarch-saturated consciousness for his Portrait of Bia: Nova angeletta sovra l’ale accorta scese dal cielo in su la fresca riva la ‘nd’io passava sol per mio destino. … Allor fui preso, et non mi spiacque poi si dolce lume uscia degli occhi suoi. (A new little angel on agile wings came down from Heaven to the fresh shore Where I was walking alone by my destiny. … Then I was captured, and it did not displease me later, so sweet a light came from her eyes.)22

The flawless, hallucinatory forms in the state portrait of Eleonora are forecast in Bia’s luminous form and halo. This effulgent light from an image disengaged from earthly matter is full of Petrarchan and Neoplatonic overtones. Like ‘Laura’, the posthumous Bia is a riveting emanation from Heaven who bestows purifying grace on the beholder.23 Eleonora as ‘Laura’ Bronzino’s love poetry is laced with entire lines and key words from Petrarch.24 Several visual metaphors make it clear that his Eleonora, too, partakes of 21 Bronzino, Sonetti, p. 29, with a second eulogy to Lucrezia, ‘Chi fia, miseri noi, che ne console.’ 22 Petrarca, Lyric Poems, pp. 214–215. Here and elsewhere all translations from Petrarch’s poems are taken from Durling’s edition. 23 Petrarca, poems 119, 181, 195, 198, 200, 215, 218 and 219 all refer to Laura’s lightinfused face; see Bronzino, Sonetti, pp. 73, 84, 89 and 192 for some of his own examples of her eyes as rays, beams, or dazzling lights. Kirkham, ‘Poetic Ideals’, pp. 51–52, shows that Dante, too, cast Beatrice as a heavenly being descended to earth, her eyes lit with divine reflection that transmits grace. 24 Parker, Bronzino, pp. 51–53.

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these infusions. Her aloofness is a distillation from Petrarch’s ever-inscrutable ‘Laura’. Overlooking this connection, past generations of critics often scorned the painted Eleonora’s containment as direct evidence of the real Eleonora’s Hispanic upbringing, of her seigniorial arrogance, of a glacial personality – or even vilified her as a cold and remote mother.25 More perceptively, Eleonora’s iconic portrayal has been compared to ‘a highlyfinished carving of ivory with eyes of semi-opaque gems’ and her icy remove acknowledged as integral to the portrait’s iconic power.26 Iconic lack of responsiveness by Laura to his yearnings is the underlying theme in Petrarch’s addresses to his remote beloved and his lapidary metaphors – the alabaster throat; unadorned, ivory-white hands; coral-red or ruby lips; and teeth like pearls are all marmoreal forms that would have been Petrarchan commonplaces in the revivalist Medici circle.27 By then, such Petrarchan inferences were freighted with two centuries of entrenched literary metaphors in celebration of the ideal woman, Laura.28 Petrarch’s popularity at the Florentine court survived past the midCinquecento. The verses penned by a courtier-knight, Bernardino Antinori, in 1576 to a second Eleonora (‘Dianora’) di Toledo, Eleonora’s beloved, unfortunate Spanish niece (see Appendix B to this chapter) demonstrate how closely the poetic mode reflects the idealization of Duchess Eleonora in Bronzino’s state portrait.29 Lapidary metaphors and aloofness prove in Antinori’s lines to be the lingua franca of Petrarchan address to the ideal woman: radiant, compelling eyes capture hearts and signify inner beauty (verses 1–8); a transforming, powerful gaze miraculously gives life and kills

25 See De Logu and Marinelli, Il ritratto, pp. 113–116 and Parker, Bronzino, p. 3 and nn. 3–4. John Addington Symonds found Bronzino’s portraiture ‘inexpressibly chilling’ and ‘barren,’ and diagnosed the ‘problem’ as ‘personal corruption’, which he divined from the artist’s burlesque poetry; further disdainful or baffled responses are cited. Jenkins, however, in The State Portrait, pp. 14–15, saw the Eleonora with Giovanni as epitomizing the state portrait genre. See also Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ vol. 2, pp. 196–292; CoxRearick Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 37; Tinagli, Women in Renaissance Art, pp. 111–112; and Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora.’ 26 Campbell, Renaissance Portraits, p. 27; Tinagli, Women in Renaissance Art, p. 112. 27 Petrarca, poems 130, 131, 181, 197, 199 and 200 refer to ivory, marble, or pearl skin for Laura’s face or hands. On these canons, see Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ p. 291; Quondam, ‘Il naso di Laura,’ passim. 28 On Petrarchism as a ‘formidable machine of communication’ and ‘hyperconnotation’, see Quondam, ‘Il naso di Laura,’ p. 24. 29 Raised at the Medici court from infancy, Dianora was murdered that year by her disturbed husband, Pietro de’ Medici, Eleonora and Cosimo’s youngest son, in a fit of jealous rage. Antinori himself was strangled just prior to her murder by order of Grand Duke Francesco de’ Medici, Pietro’s brother. See Langdon, ‘A Medici Miniature,’ pp. 266–267.

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(verses 1, 41); her head is elevated to heaven and carried on an alabaster throat and breast (verses 17–21); further, she possesses innate proportion and grace which signify inner virtue (verses 7–8, 17–18, 22–9, 42–43); unadorned hands of ivory convey her purity (verses 30–37), and she is exalted ‘above all others’ (verses 49–51). Minted from Petrarch, these tropes are tied to the canonical, insistent refrain of intense yearning and pain for the viewer because the woman’s mute presence signals eternal non-attainability (verses 9–16 and 46–8).30 A comparison of Bronzino’s Eleonora of about 1543 in Prague (Figure 2.7) with the 1545 state portrait reveals the extent to which Bronzino transposed the Petrarchan idiom into visual expression in the official version (Figures 2.1–2.3). The Prague panel’s small size, Eleonora’s ring with paired crows – symbols for concordia – and her hand-over-heart gesture convey intimacy with winsome, sentimental appeal.31 Its principal colours, scarlet and ultramarine, recall the gold-embroidered crimson dress Eleonora wore for her wedding entrata and the peacock-blue livery (pavonazzo) of the Toledan armorial colours used for the occasion.32 In contrast to the inscrutability and still-life effects of the Uffizi Eleonora, with its ivorysmooth facial planes, inset glassy eyes, and her containment in the rigid carapace of her bodice, the engaging, mutable expression in the Prague Eleonora combines a ‘speaking’ likeness with un-Petrarchan responsiveness. Her hand dimples her breast through softly-wrinkled silk to convey fiato, the potential to breathe that Vasari said characterized the ‘living’ image.33 Similarly, in Giulio Clovio’s more intimate miniature genre, Eleonora’s gesture conjures for Cosimo’s private gaze the yielding softness of flesh beneath her fingers and the undulation of her breathing under softly-draped silk.34 30

See above for parallel metaphors in Petrarch. For this, see Langdon ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ 1:200–205; and CoxRearick Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 27, 31 and 36. 32 Baia, Leonora, pp. 21–23; Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 23, 36–37; Lazzi, ‘La moda alla corte,’ p. 29. 33 See Rogers, ‘Sonnets,’ pp. 295 and 302. In Della Casa’s poem ‘On Titian’s portrait of Elisabetta Quirini Massola’ (painted in 1543), Titian’s portraits of women are seen to speak and breathe; Castiglione’s poem, ‘voiced’ by his wife to describe Raphael’s portrait of him, expounds on this. See Shearman, Only Connect, p. 136, summarizing poetic conventions of Cinquecento portraiture: the Pygmalion myth; the ‘speaking’ picture; Petrarchan overtones; its role as keepsake of a distant beloved; and, as in Castiglione’s address, realism that fools the viewer. See also Land, The Viewer as Poet, pp. 85–86; Cranston, Poetics, p. 55. 34 See Simon, ‘Giulio Clovio’s Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo’; Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ 1:205–207; Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 264; and Costamagna, ‘A propos,’ p. 168. 31

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Figure 2.7

Gabrielle Langdon

Agnolo Bronzino, Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo, c. 1545, oil on panel, 59 × 46 cm (by permission of the Národní Galerie, Prague)

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55

In her state portrait, Eleonora is palpably near yet emotionally removed.35 In Petrarch’s countless, conjured visions of his aloof, lost love, her chaste, cruel remove and her unassailable virtue were his constant torment. Any depiction of a ‘Laura’ must promote her chastity. For Bronzino’s Eleonora, the rigid bodice suppresses her breasts and denies appeal to the malleable softness of flesh.36 Weaving, hypnotic effects in the arabesque pattern of her dress visually restrain the spectator from direct access to the beautiful face of the duchess.37 Asserting her purity, the unadorned, ivory-white hand resting weightless on the elaborate gown is loaded with Petrarchan allusions to leggiadria, an effortless grace linked to Neoplatonic serenità.38 Finally, the crystalline atmosphere peculiar to Bronzino’s portraits fixes this Eleonora in a perennially uncontaminated Neoplatonic environment, protected from the corrosion of time and the banalities of the viewer’s mundane sphere.39 Bronzino’s own sonnets, ‘Cortese Donna’ (‘A Gracious Lady’), and ‘Bell’alma, e saggia, e sovr’ ogn’altra accorta’ (‘Beautiful Spirit, prudent, and above all wise’) (Appendix A) coin specific Petrarchan similes of beauty and wisdom for the virtuous woman he addresses that seem remarkably expressive of his figurehead Eleonora (Figure 2.1). She must be approached from afar. His meditation on her image transports the poet-spectator from the Inferno to the heavens, recalling Eleonora’s elevation against the starry background in her portrait. He conjures his touch on her ivory-white hand; Eleonora’s, pale and ringless in its Petrarchan perfection in the foreground of her portrait, prompts this very response. Petrarch placed his Laura in heaven, well beyond human contact, and associated her with the Virgin. In contrast to Bronzino’s Prague Eleonora (Figure 2.7), her face in his Uffizi version (Figures 2.1 and 2.2) is flooded with daylight but posed against a nocturnal sky; her sanctification by a nimbus of light around her head complements her elevation against this starry, lapis lazuli empyrean. This intentional evocation of traditional Christian 35 Indebted to Leonardo, notably to his Ginevra as model for Eleonora’s lack of affect in the state portrait, Bronzino may consciously salute Petrarch and Leonardo in it as Tuscan patriarchs of poetry and painting. For Bronzino’s debt, see Brandt, Leonardo and Central Italian Art, p. 42. 36 An intense male response to soft flesh swelling up from confinement is slyly expounded upon by Firenzuola, The Beauty of Women, p. 62. 37 Campbell, Renaissance Portraits, p. 118, notes this effect in Giulio Romano’s Isabella d’Este: intricate cutwork on her dress is a metaphor for her impresa, the fantasia of knots. 38 Bronzino’s ‘All’ Amore Supremo’ (see Appendix A) pays tribute to Petrarch’s Neoplatonism. See Fermor, ‘Poetry in Motion,’ passim, on leggiadria’s implicit denial of physicality and on its Neoplatonic origins. 39 Pinelli, La Bella Maniera, pp. 129–130, identifies generalized Neoplatonism and Petrarchism in Bronzino’s portraits: cameo-like faces, eyes like precious stones, ‘ivory’ skin, and so on.

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associations of the Virgin with Eleonora had past and contemporary precedents.40 In Diego Sandoval’s eulogy of 1543 to Cosimo’s mother, Maria Salviati, the closing lines refer to Eleonora as sent from heaven to comfort Cosimo in his grief, a leitmotif present in Petrarch’s anguished pleas to his dead, sanctified Laura to return to comfort him.41 The portrait’s dual lighting recalls, too, the opening verses of Petrarch’s poem 366, ‘Vergine bella,’ an invocation of the apocalyptic Woman Clothed with the Sun and lit by a night sky: Vergine bella, che di sol vestita, coronata di stelle, al sommo Sole piacesti sì che ’n te sua luce ascose (Beautiful Virgin who, clothed with the sun and crowned with the stars, so pleased the highest Sun that in you he hid his light)42

Play on Laura’s eyes and face as potent sources of light is woven through Petrarch’s poems.43 Here, ambiguous daylight illumination coupled with Eleonora’s dominion over a moonlit landscape also give form to one of Bronzino’s own sonnets to a ‘Laura’, where ‘Dawn paints the Sky’ to ‘emblazon the Sun,’ making his heart ‘catch fire’; in another, ‘sweet darkness’ serves as a reminder of the return of the Sun.44 Bronzino – following such examples as Petrarch’s poem 197 – implicitly alludes to Apollo, the personification for absolutism linked in the ducal wedding celebrations to Cosimo’s destiny to 40 See Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ 1:221–222. Expensive, ground lapis lazuli was traditionally reserved to paint the Virgin’s robes, notably by Fra Angelico. Coexistent daylight and starry sky recall an invocation from the popular Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Stella matutina (‘Star of the Morning’). Cropper, in her introduction to AmesLewis and Rogers, Concepts of Beauty, p. 8, and citing also Morrall, Vaccaro and Fermor, observed that in Italy the same ideals of beauty characterized the Madonna and the courtly Lady. On the Litany, see Bonniwell, A History of the Dominican Liturgy, p. 208. 41 See Petrarca, poems 31, 90, 106, 123, 243 and 309, for example. For Sandoval’s elegy, see Langdon, ‘Decorum in Portraits of Medici Women,’ vol. 2, Appendix E, pp. 445–446. 42 On this poem’s links to Apocalypse 12:1, ‘mulier amicta sole, et luna sub pedibus eius, et in capite corona stellarum duodecim,’ see Petrarca, Lyric Poems, p. 574. The canzone, set to music by Cipriano de Rore (d. 1565), was issued in two parts in 1548 and 1549. See Gary Towne, review of Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal. Haar, Essays on Italian Poetry and Music, p. 121, notes that such popular, ‘spiritual’ madrigals circulated in print by the late 1540s. Petrarch’s poem 77 on Simone Martini’s Laura also places her in heaven. 43 For example, poems 181, 200, 215 (see text below), 218 and 219. 44 ‘Quindi a’ l’Aurora, il Ciel dipinge, e ‘naura’; and, ‘Alla dolce ombra dell’amata pianta … Membrando il Sol … Che quanto stette a ritornar l’Aurora’ Bronzino,’ Sonetti, pp. 87 and 102.

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rule and reiterated in Bronzino’s tre canzoni sorelle to eulogize the Duke in 1566.45 Further, Eleonora’s irradiated face and the panel’s dual illumination recall two Petrarchan commonplaces: the ‘mirroring’ and transforming power of a beloved’s portrait on the beholder;46 and Laura’s powerful, dazzling glance as a ray of light, or of sparks or stars showered from her eyes that transform or undo nature, as in poem 215: et non so che nelli occhi che ’n un punto po far chiara la notte, oscuro il giorno, e ’l mel amaro, et addolcir l’assenzio (and I know not what in her eyes, which in an instant can make bright the night, darken the day, embitter honey, and sweeten wormwood)47

Petrarch’s poem 192 repeats the topos: e ’l ciel di vaghe et lucide faville s’accende intorno e ’n vista si rallegra d’esser fatto seren da sì belli occhi (And the sky takes fire with shining sparks all around and visibly rejoices to be made clear by eyes so lovely)

Eleonora’s own brightly lit face, set against the darker sky (Figure 2.2) is a painted echo of the effulgent, beautiful face that outshines the sun, a Petrarchan topos that enjoyed currency in madrigal settings, including poem 119, ‘Una donna più bella assai che ’l sole’ (‘A Woman much more Beautiful than the Sun’), repeatedly set to music from the 1520s.48 Identical in spirit are the concluding lines ‘she is brighter and more beautiful than the sun’ of Benedetto 45 These promote Cosimo as beneficent ‘Sun’ of Florence: ‘Troppo m’era lavor del mondo cieco,’ ‘Com’il lume de’ lumi, il Padre, il Sole,’ and ‘Assai m’era d’un Sol la luce farne.’ Parker, Bronzino, p. 196, n. 10. Another, ‘Quel, ch’io canto almo Sol, ch’a mi tira,’ repeats an Apollonian theme, Parker, Bronzino, p. 180. Bronzino was a prominent painter for the 1539 wedding; see Rousseau, ‘The Pageant of the Muses,’ p. 418. 46 On such mirroring, see Bronzino’s ‘Cortese Donna’ (Appendix A), and Bronzino, Sonetti, p. 84; see Antinori’s verses 9–16 (Appendix B). For discussion on the trope, see Cranston, Poetics, pp. 156 and 163–167. 47 Shearman, Only Connect, p. 120, comments that the strong stream of light in Leonardo’s Cecilia Gallerani represents Duke Lodovico as her Sun and paraphrases Bellincioni’s poem on the portrait: in comparison with her beautiful eyes, the sun seems a dark shadow. 48 On its musical settings, see Haar, Essays on Italian Poetry and Music, pp. 67 and 72. For the irradiated Laura, see Petrarch, poems 119, 154, 195, 197 and 198.

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Varchi’s ‘Quando col dolce suono,’ set to music by Jacob Arcadelt (d. 1568) in 1534 and published by 1539: Quando col dolce suono s’accordan le dolcissime parole ch’escon fra bianche perl’ e bei rubini, maravigliando dico: hor come sono venuto in ciel che sì dappresso il sol rimiro ed odo accenti alt’ e divini. O spirti pellegrini s’udeste Pulisena direste ben ch’udir doppia serena. Io che veduto l’ho vi giuro ch’ella è più che ’l sol assai lucente e bella. (When with sweet sound Which matches the sweet words That escape from white pearls and fine rubies Marvelling I say: Now that I have risen to heaven and am near to the sun I look around and hear tones elevated and divine. Oh wandering souls If you could hear Polyxena You would truly feel twice as serene. I, who have seen her, swear to you that she is Much brighter and more beautiful than the sun.) (my translation)49

Clearly, the lambent face of Laura was a conceit that was current in Bronzino’s own poetic circle and in the wider sphere wherever Petrarchan love lyrics were sung. Dante, too, breathed inspiration into Bronzino’s invenzione. Laura’s lightflooded form and gaze have echoes in Beatrice’s presence at Dante’s apotheosis into heaven, where he fixes his eyes on a nearly blinding light surrounding her. Illustrated in a fifteenth-century woodcut prefacing the third canto of the Paradiso, she, like Bronzino’s Eleonora, dominates a starry sky, is backlit by the moon, but is herself a dazzling emanation of the Sun.50 In Eleonora’s gold-braided, pearl-studded fichu and matching hairnet Bronzino gave form to Laura’s ‘golden locks twisted with pearls and gems’ of Petrarch’s poem 196, and dressed her in the ‘gay net of gold and pearls,’ Petrarch’s metaphor of the snares of love in poem 181: 49 See Haar, Essays on Italian Poetry and Music, pp. 72, 180–184, providing both verse and musical setting. 50 For this Dante and Beatrice in the Heaven of the Moon (Paradiso 3), see Kirkham, ‘Poetic Ideals,’ Figure 1, p. 52.

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Amor fra l’erbe una leggiadra rete d’oro e di perle tese sott’un ramo dell’arbor sempre verde ch’ i’ tant’ amo, (Love set out amid the grass a gay net of gold and pearls under a branch of the evergreen tree that I so love)

Durling identifies the gold and pearls as Laura’s braided hair, enmeshed with pearls.51 Bronzino could look to Botticelli, his artistic ancestor at the court of Lorenzo the Magnificent, to conjure this vision.52 Vasari describes a panel, lodged in Cosimo’s guardaroba, of Botticelli’s ‘innamorata of Giuliano de’ Medici,’ Lorenzo’s brother, possibly his Simonetta Vespucci (?) (c. 1480). An allegorical ‘Laura,’ she is the very incarnation of a remote, chastely-girded, Petrarchan vision (Figure 2.8). Braids traversed with pearls form an intricate lattice around her head, and thick, pearl-entwined braids fall over her shoulders.53 For Bronzino, Eleonora’s signature gold-braided, pearled cap served both to identify and to allegorize her.54 The evergreen laurel in this poem, Petrarch’s persistent symbol of everlasting love, was also linked to Medicean dynastic pretensions – the sprouting broncone had long signified regeneration of their house. It is prominent in a contemporary Bronzino portrait of Duke Cosimo. In Eleonora’s portrait, Giovanni personifies a living Medici ‘branch of the evergreen tree.’ Eleonora’s Petrarchan exclusiveness is expressed through a telling association of her jewels with Duke Cosimo that Bronzino apparently coined, too, from Petrarch. As part of his wedding gift to her, Cosimo had presented Eleonora with a necklace set with a diamond.55 Indeed, the large diamond at Eleonora’s throat reverberates with reminders of the duke, reputed in 1545 to own an enormous specimen once lodged at the temple of Apollo.56 By coupling it with the equally large topaz centred in her girdle, Bronzino wove into 51

Petrarca, Lyric Poems, poem 181. As a boy, Bronzino was apprenticed to Raffaellino del Garbo, but drew more from Botticelli’s poetic, highly-wrought, idealized style. See Cecchi, Bronzino, p. 3. 53 In Virtue and Beauty, no. 28, pp. 182–185, David A. Brown identifies its Petrarchan overtones and links her simulated vespaio – the pearl-braided cap of the times likened to a wasp’s nest – to the name Vespucci. He also suggests her conflation with Pallas Athena in the glint of armour just visible at her breast, a distant forerunner of Eleonora’s rigid bodice. 54 See Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, plate 2 and Figures 26, 28, 29, 30 and 170. A similar cap is worn by Infanta Dona Maria of Portugal (1521–77) in an anonymous portrait study in Chantilly. 55 Lazzi, ‘Gli abiti di Eleonora,’ p. 165; see also Baia, Leonora, pp. 20–21. 56 Richelson, ‘Studies,’ p. 70, n. 60, citing Franceschi, Vita della sig. Maria Salviati de’ Medici (madre di Cosimo I), Rome, 1545, fol. 5v. 52

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Figure 2.8

Gabrielle Langdon

Sandro Botticelli, Young Woman (Simonetta Vespucci?) in Mythological Guise, c. 1480–85, tempera on panel, 81.5 × 54.2 cm (by permission of the Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurtam-Main)

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her portrait Petrarch’s excursus on a pagan version of the theme of ‘Noli me Tangere’ in poem 190, where diamonds and topaz adorn the white doe, sacred to chaste Diana, goddess of the moon. Bronzino locates Eleonora in a nocturnal realm, allegorizing her perhaps as Diana’s familiar, the doe. Petrarch related that he saw the doe at sunrise between two rivers in the shade of a laurel, wearing a collar of diamonds and topazes – emblems of steadfastness and chastity – inscribed ‘Let no-one touch me, it has pleased my Caesar to make me free’: Una candida cerva sopra l’erba verde m’apparve con duo corna d’oro, fra due riviere all’ombra d’un alloro levando ’l sole a la stagione acerba. … ‘Nessun mi tocchi,’ al bel collo d’intorno scritto avea di diamanti et di topazi. ‘Libera farmi al mio Cesare parve.’ (A white doe on the green grass appeared to me, with two golden horns, between two rivers in the shade of a laurel, when the sun was rising in the unripe season. … ‘Let no one touch me,’ she bore written with diamonds and topazes around her lovely neck. ‘It has pleased my Caesar to make me free.’)57

Cosimo’s personification as Caesar Augustus had been promoted from the outset of his reign.58 In this poem, Bronzino, Petrarch’s surrogate in verse and in painting, casts Eleonora as Diana’s protegée. He recalls the poet’s vision of the doe set in a watered landscape, with his coupling of Diana’s nocturnal sky with daylight echoing the moment of sunrise in Petrarch’s vision. Wearing an enormous diamante at her throat and a large topaz set in her cintura, Eleonora, recalling the doe, claims an everlasting bond with her Caesar, Cosimo. Bronzino mined Petrarch’s canzoni 190 and 197 as inspiration for Cosimo’s ‘Laura,’ empowered with love’s snares and exclusively beloved by her Caesar, the duke.59

57 Petrarch’s source was Solinus (third century AD). The ‘golden horns’ are Laura’s braids. Petrarca, Lyric Poems, poem 190, p. 336. 58 See Richelson, ‘Studies,’ pp. 25–27. 59 See Pinelli, La Bella Maniera, pp. 129–130, on Bronzino’s subtle evocations and metaphorical ethos; Tinagli, Women in Renaissance Art, p. 85; Plazzotta and Keith, ‘Bronzino’s Allegory’; Parker, Bronzino, p. 20, on his ‘prolix’ poetry and art.

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Bronzino addressed Petrarchan tributes to members of his literary circle, notably Benedetto Varchi and Laura Battiferra.60 In many risposte he is addressed as Apelles, echoing Petrarch’s poems 77 and 78, where Simone Martini is cast as a new Polyclitus or Pygmalion for most closely portraying Laura’s peerless beauty; a divine dispensation enables him to render a supremely beautiful beloved and to suggest her inner virtue.61 Mesmerizing surface detail and supreme idealization of Eleonora’s face – in sum, Bronzino’s hallucinatory, neo-Petrarchan perfectionism – holds the viewer in thrall to this ‘Laura’, echoing Petrarch’s enthralment before countless, conjured visions of a flawless, celestial love.62 Stemming from that tradition, emotive rhetorical allusions to promote a woman’s beauty, goodness and elevation above the mundane were always enjoined with an implicit invitation to venerate her chaste image from afar and to defer to her power. Bronzino’s allusiveness weaves into his official Eleonora messages of Medicean dynasty, divinely-appointed regency, and makes her the embodiment of a new ‘Laura’ – the object of Cosimo’s love and pendant to his image. She is a donna illustra, a womanly paragon of beauty expressed in metaphors of jewels and ivory, of radiance, iconic elevation and lontananza. This chaste, heavenly vision is a worthy regent for his Tuscan subjects. This Petrarchan-saturated tribute also responds to Medicean claims to Tuscany as cultural patria for the entire peninsula. Even as Eleonora is presented to Cosimo as a remote ‘Laura’ of visionary, otherworldly perfection, she becomes the figurehead Tuscan patrona for this culturally ambitious court. University College Dublin, Ireland

60

See Parker, Bronzino, pp. 47 and 62–68, with related bibliography. Parker, Bronzino, pp. 14–15, 60–61, 88 and 96 on Bronzino as Apelles; pp. 82–83 on inner virtue. 62 On metaphysical references in Leonardo’s Ginevra, possibly at Bembo’s instigation, see most recently Virtue and Beauty, n. 16 and the selected bibliography. 61

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Appendix A Selected Bronzino Sonnets (in Italian, followed by English translation)63 Bell’alma, e saggia, e sovr’ogni altra accorta, Come scorgeste a sì grand’ uopo il vero? Quando di se vi diè l’arbitrio intero La Donna, che ’l mio cor nel viso porta! Piana diceste voi la strada, e corta Fia per condurve al desìo vostro vero E me già freddo col mio foco altero Giungeste a me la sua man bianca porta, Ben fu pietà d’Amor, ch’a ciò v’indusse Com’anco fe’ l’altrier quella, che ’l gielo, Ch’oggi per voi per se sola distrusse. Così d’Inferno mi poneste in Cielo, Ond’io partimmi, e chi cagion ne fusse Ella ben sa, ch’a tutti gli altri il celo. Beautiful spirit, wise, and more than all others perceptive, How did you grasp the truth of such great need When the Lady, who carries my heart in her face, Gave you complete power over herself? You said that the road was even and short that leads you to your true desire And I, already cold because of my proud fire,64 You revived, when you gave me her white hand. It was certainly Love pity that led you to do it As the day before yesterday, she also did, when the ice That you today destroyed she destroyed only for herself. Thus from the Hell you placed me in Heaven From whence I then departed; she who was the reason for this Knows it well, and to all others I hide it. Quant’io d’Amor nella fiorita etate Scrissi, e cantai mentre, che ’n cieco ardore Per terrena beltà struggeasi il core, Posto ha in oblìo di me vera pietate. Ma queste rime, o voi che l’ascoltate, Sebben d’altezza e dolce stil minore, Avran però di santo, e puro amore Degno subbietto in casta alma beltate; E sebben di sospir sovente e pianto Sonar l’udite, e guerra, e morte, il senso, 63 Bronzino, Sonetti, pp. 62, 81 and 109. I warmly thank Paola Tinagli and Konrad Eisenbichler for significant refinements to my translations. 64 That is, already dead because of my beloved’s disdain for me.

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Gabrielle Langdon Che troppo chiede, ancor, che onesto il face: L’alma non già, che ’n dolce foco, e santo Gioisce, e quant’io dico, e quant’io penso, Così ’l gustasse ognun, m’è vita, e pace. True compassion has made me forget How in the flower of my youth I wrote and sang of Love, while in blind passion My heart was consumed with earthly beauty. But these rhymes, oh you who listen to them, Though their style be less lofty and less sweet Shall nevertheless have a worthy subject In the holy and pure love of a chaste, sustaining soul. And although often with sighs and tears, You hear it ring, with war and death, it is my senses, That force it, still unduly asking for what is not proper. Not so my soul, which rejoices in sweet and holy fire, And all that I say and all that I think, If everyone could taste it, it be my life and give me peace. Cortese Donna, in vera alta onestade D’Amore accesa, alteramente schivo D’alto core, e bellezza esempio vivo Saggia, e perfetta in fresca acerba etade. Di se mi degna, e sì dal cor mi rade Ogni basso voler, ch’io non arrivo Pur col pensiero in parte, ond’io sia privo D’un raggio sol di sua chiara bontade. Buon tempo è già, che, sua mercede, impresi Sgombrar del falso, e ’l cor di vero amore Empiendo farmi a lei pari, o simile. Cruda mi fu del primo, e nel dolore Mostrommi, oh che pietà, quant’era vile, Finchè d’altero, e santo ardor m’accesi. Gracious Lady, in true high integrity Alight with love, a living example of A loftily, elusive heart and of beauty, Wise, and perfect in fresh youthfulness, Make me worthy, and so from my heart remove Every low desire, so that I do not risk, Even just with my thoughts, losing A single ray of her bright goodness. It is a high time that, thanks to her, I learn To rid [myself] of deceit, and my heart with true love Fill so as to make myself equal to her or like her. She was severe with me at first, and with pain She showed me, oh what pity, how vile it was, Until I burned with a lofty and holy passion.

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Appendix B Love Poetry from Prison (c. 1574–6) from Bernardino Antinori (1537–76) to Eleonora (‘Dianora’) di Pietro de’ Medici (1553–76) (in Italian, followed by English translation)65 1.

5.

10.

15.

20.

25.

30.

I Occhi ch’alti miracoli solete far con i dolci rai del vostro lume e le potenze interne in quel movete che di mirar vostra luce presume; con quel poter che i cori altrui prendete, fate in me d’Elicona sorger fiume, ch’io dica il bel che in voi chiaro si vede, e ’l gran valor ch’ogni valore eccede. II Oh che goder perfetto! oh che contento! oh che piacere, veder due fidi amanti mentre ciascuno è ne’ begli occhi intento dell’altro, e scorge in quelli i suoi sembianti! Oh che soave oblio d’ogni tormento, quand’escono i visivi spirti santi, che con miracol sì raro e sì grato fan trasformar l’amante nell’amato! III Testa sostien sì bella e sì divina in cui del Cielo il gran valor si scorge, la delicata gola alabastrina che dalle larghe spalle dritta sorge nel bianco petto Amor gli strali affina; … IV La membra ond’ha composta la persona son con proportion sì ben formate ch’ogni sua parte con l’altra consuona, e tutte con tal’ arte collegate che si può dir che non fu mai persona, ossia delle presenti ovver passate, che avesse corpo sì leggiadro e bello, cercando il mondo in questo loco e in quello. V Nella candida man pose natura ogni suo studio per farla perfetta, e lungo alquanto, senza vene, e pura

65 Excerpted by Saltini, ‘Due Principesse’, part 6, 127 no. 24, pp. 173–175. I thank Susan Scott-Cesaritti for refining my translation.

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35.

40.

45.

50.

5.

10.

15.

20.

qual terso ivorio, poi morbida, schietta, in cui non par che sia sforzata cura, ma per se stessa bianca, molle e netta: sottil le dita, senza nodi e grate, unghia grandette, pulite, inarcate. VI Stupisce ogn’uomo ai graziosi gesti se va, se posa, o balla, o parla, o ride. Sono i bei modi in un dolci e modesti co’ quai dà vita in un tempo e uccide; gli atti, tutti amorosi e tutti onesti, fan che onestà da amor non si divida. Lieta si mostra e grata in ogni parte, ascosta umil, risponde con grand’ arte. VII Poi ch’io pur dir nol so, dicalo amore donna, qual sia maggior mentre vi miro, o la beltade in voi o in me l’ardore! VIII Qual sì possente e sì benigna stella ornò voi di sì pregiati onori per farvi sopra l’altre altera e bella.

I Eyes, accustomed to working great miracles with the sweet rays of your light you move the inner powers of him who dares to look at your light; using that power with which you capture others’ hearts make a river of Helicon spring forth in me so that I may tell of the beauty that in you shines so clear and of your great worth exceeding all worth. II Oh what perfect joy! oh what bliss! Oh what pleasure, to see two trusting lovers as each, intent on the other’s eyes sees there his own image! Oh what sweet oblivion of all torment, when the visible holy spirits go out and with a miracle so rare and so welcome transform the lover into the beloved! III It holds up a head so lovely and so divine in which Heaven’s great worth is revealed, a delicate alabaster throat which rises erect from broad shoulders, In her white breast Love sharpens his darts. …

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30.

35.

40.

45.

50.

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IV The parts of her body are so well formed and proportioned that every part harmonizes with the others and all are connected so skilfully that one could say never has there been anyone either in the past or in the present who had a body so light and lovely though one searched the world over. V Nature took every care To make her white hand perfect, uncommonly long, veinless and pure as polished ivory, and soft, flawless, so it seems not formed by art but in itself white, soft, and clear: slender fingers, unbent and graceful with generous nails, clean and curved. VI Every man marvels at her graceful ways as she walks or pauses, or dances, talks or laughs. These are her lovely manners, at once sweet and modest, with which she at the same time gives life and kills; her actions, all loving, all sincere, make virtue inseparable from love. Happy she appears, and pleasant in every way, modestly she listens, she responds with great skill. VII Since I do not know how, let Love say, Lady, which is greater as I gaze upon you, the beauty in you, or the passion in me! VIII What powerful and kindly star adorned you with such glorious gifts to make you above all others so exalted and beautiful.

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Plazzotta, Carol and Larry Keith. ‘Bronzino’s Allegory: New Evidence of the Artist’s Revisions,’ The Burlington Magazine 141 (February 1999), pp. 89–99. Quondam, Amedeo. ‘Il naso di Laura,’ pp. 9–44 in Il ritratto e la memoria: materiali, ed. Augusto Gentili. Rome: Bulzoni, 1989. Richelson, Paul. ‘Studies in the Personal Imagery of Cosimo I de’ Medici, Duke of Florence,’ Doctoral dissertation. Princeton: Princeton University, 1973. Rogers, Mary. ‘Sonnets on Female Portraits from Renaissance North Italy,’ Word and Image 2:4 (1986), pp. 291–305. Rogers, Mary. ‘The Decorum of Women’s Beauty: Trissino, Firenzuola, Luigini and the Representation of Women in Sixteenth-Century Painting,’ Renaissance Studies 2:1 (1988), pp. 47–88. Rogers, Mary. ‘Fashioning identities for the Renaissance Courtesan,’ pp. 91–105 in Fashioning Identities in Renaissance Art, ed. Mary Rogers. Aldershot, UK, and Brookfield, VT: Ashgate, 2000. Rousseau, Claudia. ‘The Pageant of the Muses at the Medici Wedding of 1539 and the Decoration of the Salone dei Cinquecento,’ pp. 417–423 in All the world’s a stage … ’: Art and Pageantry in the Renaissance and Baroque, eds Barbara Wisch and Susan Scott Munshower. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1990. Saltini, Guglielmo Enrico. ‘Due principesse medicee del secolo XVI’ Rassegna nazionale Part I, 121, no. 23 (1901), pp. 553–571; Part II, 122, no. 23 (1901), pp. 599–613; Part III, 123, no. 23 (1902), pp. 618–630; Part IV, 125, no. 23 (1902), pp. 207–220; Part V, 127, no. 24 (1902), pp. 227–241; Part VI, 127, no. 24 (1902), pp. 169–189. Shearman, John. Only Connect … Art and the Spectator in the Italian Renaissance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992. Simon, Robert. ‘Giulio Clovio’s Portrait of Eleonora di Toledo,’ The Burlington Magazine 131, no. 1036 (1989), pp. 481–485. Slim, Colin. ‘A Motet for Machiavelli’s Mistress and a Chanson for a Courtesan,’ vol. 1, pp. 457–472 in Essays Presented to Myron P. Gilmore, eds Sergio Bertelli and Gloria Ramakus. Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1978. Smith, Graham. ‘Bronzino’s Portrait of Laura Battiferri,’ Source 15 (1996), pp. 30– 38. Tinagli, Paola. Women in Italian Renaissance Art: Gender, Representation, Identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997. Towne, Gary. Review of Martha Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995) in Sixteenth Century Journal 27:1 (1996), pp. 270–271. Virtue and Beauty. Leonardo’s ‘Ginevra de’ Benci’ and Renaissance Portraits of Women. Exhibition catalogue, ed. David Alan Brown. Washington: National Gallery of Art, 30 September 2001–6 January 2002. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001. Watt, Mary Alexandra. ‘The Reception of Dante in the Time of Cosimo I,’ pp. 121– 134 in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot, UK, and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2001. Zanrè, Domenico. ‘Ritual and Parody in Mid-Cinquecento Florence,’ pp. 189–204 in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot, UK, and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2001.

Chapter 3

La fecundissima Signora Duchessa: The Courtly Persona of Eleonora di Toledo and the Iconography of Abundance 1

Bruce L. Edelstein

On 28 October 1560, Duke Cosimo I and his consort Eleonora di Toledo made their triumphal entry into Siena as its new rulers. Although King Philip II of Spain had ceded Siena and its territories to the Florentine state in 1557, the duke had shrewdly waited until anti-imperial and anti-Medici sentiment had diminished somewhat before attempting a personal entrata with elaborate ephemera to celebrate the event. The scheme for the apparato was provided by Bartolomeo Ammannati and Francesco Tomasi; its ephemeral decorations are described in detail in a published letter by Antonfrancesco Cirni Corso addressed to future saint Carlo Borromeo, recently elevated to the cardinalate by his uncle, the reigning Pope Pius IV.2 The description provides significant evidence regarding the importance of the duchess’s role in the administration of Cosimo’s government.3 Two distinct ephemeral decorations were intended to allude to Eleonora’s virtues. In Piazza Tolomei, a central location in Siena, a large fictive bronze relief depicted Juno raising a sceptre with the inscription, Tu sceptra giovemque concilias; according to Cirni Corso, this composition

1 Portions of this study depend upon material included in my doctoral dissertation, Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage.’ For their kind advice, I thank John Shearman and Mirka Benes; invaluable suggestions on earlier drafts of this chapter were also provided by Janet Cox-Rearick, Konrad Eisenbichler and Jonathan Nelson. 2 Cirni Corso, Reale entrata, pp. ii–iii. The triumphal entry is also noted by other contemporary sources, e.g., Lapini, Diario fiorentino, p. 130. Cf. also Vodoz, ‘Studien zum architektonischen Werk,’ p. 49. 3 The range of Eleonora’s influence at Cosimo’s court may be suggested in part by Cirni Corso’s list of the 24 ‘Florentine’ gentlemen in the ducal cortege on this occasion: most of these were in fact Spanish or Neapolitan; Reale entrata, p. vi.

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was intended to refer to Eleonora’s ‘great authority and earthly deity.’4 Ammannati also created two fictive marble statues for the same piazza. Since one was a personification of Siena, the figure installed opposite it may be considered of special importance in the scheme of the apparato. This other figure represented ‘the goddess Cybele, mother of the gods, with a turreted crown, holding a fruit-bearing pine branch in her hand with the inscription, Felix prole divum, alluding to the Duchess, for her most glorious offspring.’5 The decorations for the Sienese apparato of 1560 are characteristic examples of the two principal themes inspired by classical antiquity associated with Eleonora throughout her reign as duchess of Florence: on the one hand, Juno, as goddess of wealth and matrimony; on the other, Cybele, who, like the other important ancient harvest goddesses Ops and Ceres, was associated with Eleonora because of her personal fertility. These seemingly disparate qualities were nonetheless closely related in contemporary thought, their identification with Eleonora a result not only of her having borne Cosimo eleven children, but also of her renowned financial acumen and close association with agricultural activities and investments in landed wealth. Francesco Salviati’s ceiling decoration for the Scrittoio in the duchess’s apartment in the Palazzo Vecchio (Figure 3.1) may be the earliest surviving allegorical work to celebrate the fertility of Eleonora’s extensive estates and the grain produced on them (the principal source of her wealth) as well as her personal fertility.6 The decorations, executed around 1545, are intimately related to the function of the Scrittoio, which served as a repository for the revenue and records of her scrittoio, meaning the institution of her entire financial enterprise. In a letter written by Tommaso de’ Medici in Livorno to majordomo Pierfrancesco Riccio in Florence on 15 March 1549/50, the word scrittoio is used to identify the administration of Eleonora’s income derived from the production, acquisition and sale of grain: The Lady Duchess commanded me to write to your Lordship that the remainder of [the estate manager at Castello] Tommaso Pecori’s credit to our scrittoio from the expense account for hay should be sent to me. And do not pay Salviati7 with it, as Tommaso Pecori has ordered, because she wants me to pay the poor men of 4 ‘Per la sua grande autorità, e terrena deità.’ Cirni Corso, Reale entrata, p. ix. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations are mine. 5 ‘L’altra era la Dea Cibale madre de gl’Iddei coronata di torre, che haveva in mano una rama di pino con frutti con ins. Felix prole divum, alludendo alla Duchessa, per la sua gloriosissima prole.’ Cirni Corso, Reale entrata, p. viii. 6 On Eleonora’s extensive land holdings and management of the Medici estates, see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ esp. p. 307. 7 The member of the Salviati bank referred to by Tommaso is presumably Averardo, with whom Eleonora had several accounts; payments to the descendants of Luca Pitti for the

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Francesco Salviati, ceiling decoration, Scrittoio della Duchessa, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, c. 1545 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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The duchess’s Scrittoio, then, was primarily a treasury and archive for her financial records. The figure depicted in the central medallion of Salviati’s ceiling decorations has been tentatively identified as a personification of Charity.10 This theme would of course be appropriate in a treasure room as an admonition against avarice. However, comparison of the Scrittoio figure with one of Salviati’s various panel paintings of Charity, of which the Uffizi version may be considered the most important, reveals significant iconographic differences.11 Not only are these female personifications accompanied by a different number of putti (the panel paintings of Charity all contain three as opposed to the two depicted in the ceiling medallion), none of the Charity paintings include the other attributes with which the artist provided the Scrittoio figure: a cornucopia and a palm frond carried in the left hand. This figure may therefore be assumed to personify some other theme; displayed against a gold background, with her overflowing horn of plenty and playful offspring, she may be more accurately described as an allegory of Dovizia, meaning purchase of the Palazzo Pitti, contracted only a few weeks prior to this letter, were made through him. Pietro di Alamanno Salviati is another member of that family with whom Eleonora had financial dealings. However, he seems to appear only in documents of a slightly later date; perhaps Pietro assumed the management of the Salviati bank after Averardo’s death. 8 This appears to be a reference to an estate near Arezzo in the Val di Chiana rather than one of the various Tuscan locales called Chiani or Chianni; cf. Repetti, Dizionario geografico, 1:684–687, 692–695. An estate identified as the ‘Fattoria delle Chiane d’Arezzo’ is noted in the inventory ordered by Cosimo of the ducal couple’s properties administered by Eleonora immediately following her death (compiled 26 Dec. 1562–8 Jan. 1563); Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Mediceo del Principato (henceforth, ASF, MdP) 642, f. 10. The complete transcription of the inventory is in Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ 2:606–626, doc. 15. 9 ‘La S. duchessa mi comandò che io scrivessi a v.s. che el resto che Tomaso Pecori è creditore del nostro scrittoio per conto della spesa de’ fieni che quella gli mandi a me. Et non li paghi a Salviati, come ordina Thomaso Pecori, perché vuole che io ne paghi [i] poveri huomini di Castello. Dice che vuole la ricolta passata sia fatta per lei et sollecita el ritratto così delle cose delle Chiane, come a Giovanbattista Mori ne ho scritto a lungho.’ ASF, MdP 1176, ins. 3, doc. 6. While this letter dates from the beginning of the best documented period of Eleonora’s agricultural investments, other documents confirm Eleonora’s activities in the grain market closer to Salviati’s execution of the Scrittoio ceiling decorations five years earlier; see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ pp. 304–306. 10 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 48. 11 For the panel paintings (Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence; Galleria degli Uffizi Depositi, Florence; Alte Pinakothek, Munich; Getty Museum, Malibu) and images, see Mortari, Francesco Salviati, pp. 113–114.

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wealth or abundance. This theme too may be considered an apt reflection of the purpose of the room for which it was created, suggesting the source of Eleonora’s wealth in agricultural activity.12 Support for this identification of Salviati’s Scrittoio figure may be found through comparison with an earlier work, the sliding cover painted by one of Raphael’s followers, probably Giulio Romano, for the Petite Sante Famille.13 The allegorical figure depicted on this lid, presented as an ancient sculpture in a classicizing niche, also carries a cornucopia. In this case, however, we may be certain that the iconography of the work, executed around 1518 for Cardinal Bibbiena, was intended to suggest the theme of Dovizia; since the patron’s family name was Dovizi, the figure was surely meant as a pun on this name. While Salviati’s palco is extraordinarily well preserved, the frescoed frieze below it has suffered numerous losses. It is possible that by the eighteenth century the Scrittoio had been converted into a bathroom;14 if the Scrittoio had later been subject to excessively humid conditions, this might help to explain the damage to this zone. The extant portions of the frieze confirm that it reinforced the basic themes of the ceiling decoration. Ducal devices such as the Capricorn, rising sign in the horoscopes of Augustus, Charles V and Cosimo, and rich garlands of fruits and vegetables alternate with capricious landscape views of Roman ruins. These support the allegory of Abundance in the ceiling’s centre medallion and refer again to the source of the duchess’s wealth in agricultural enterprise. 12 Even if one were inclined to identify Salviati’s figure as a representation of Charity, this could still be related to Eleonora’s involvement in the grain market since the duchess often made charitable donations of grain. For example, upon receiving the news of the return of the fortresses of Florence and Livorno to her husband’s control, Eleonora, together with Maria Salviati, authorized the consignment of grain on 14 June 1543 to the bishop of Marsico, Marzio Marzi de’ Medici, and to the future majordomo Pierfrancesco Riccio for precisely this purpose (ASF, MdP 1170, ins. 5, doc. 242 [old numeration: doc. 20]; full transcription in Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ 2:644, doc. 72 (however, dated incorrectly as 13 June 1543). The news had probably just arrived at Poggio a Caiano, where Eleonora was conducting her second rule of Florence, from Genoa, where the absent Cosimo had gone to negotiate with Emperor Charles V. See also ASF, MdP 370, f. 388 (full transcription in Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ 2:700 [Document 72]), in which the Abbess of the Convent of the Portico at Galluzzo requests Eleonora’s direct intercession for a donation of desperately needed grain to avoid having to supply collateral to ducal grain agents. This letter is undated but bears two contemporary rescripts: one, probably in the hand of court secretary Lorenzo Pagni, indicates the year 1544/5, and the other, possibly in the hand of Riccio, with the date ‘15 di gennaio.’ 13 For an image of the work, now in the Louvre, Paris, see Jones and Penny, Raphael, p. 192 (Figure 204). I thank John Shearman for this suggestion. 14 This is one possible interpretation of certain graphic signs included in the earliest surviving plan of the palazzo, preserved in the Hapsburg family archive in Prague; for an image, see Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service,’ p. 239, Figure 14.

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Of course, the association of the theme of Abundance with Eleonora was also a result of her much remarked upon personal fecundity. The letters of Paolo Giovio are particularly revealing in this regard. In one, congratulating Cosimo on the birth of his second daughter, Isabella, Giovio refers to Eleonora as the ‘most fecund and most joyous Lady Duchess.’15 In the following year, during Eleonora’s pregnancy with her second son, Giovanni, Giovio wrote again to Cosimo, referring to ‘la fecundissima Signora Duchessa’ as ‘another spouting Gaia.’16 And in 1544, during Eleonora’s next pregnancy, Giovio expressed his sheer wonder at Eleonora’s reproductive abilities: ‘My congratulations that the most Excellent and most fortunate Lady Duchess has from single been doubled in body [that is, that she has gotten with child], and may God see fit that it be male and neither more handsome nor more delicious than lord don Francesco [the prince].’17 When the child, Lucrezia, was born female, Giovio again sent congratulations and expressed his certainty that Eleonora would provide Cosimo with another male child (‘un vago e maschio frutto’) in no more than ten months!18 By 1543, only four years after her arrival in Florence, Eleonora was already the mother of four children. Most significant for the survival of Cosimo’s newly founded dynasty was the birth of a second son in that year, Giovanni. Earlier in the sixteenth century the lack of legitimate male heirs had twice resulted in crises for the Medici.19 The birth of a second son ensured the 15 ‘La fecundissima e iocundissima Signora Duchessa.’ Giovio, Lettere, 1:295 (from Rome, 23 September 1542). 16 ‘Idest un’altra Gia sputata.’ Giovio, Lettere, 1:306–307 (from Florence, 10 March 1543). 17 ‘Mi congratulo che la Ecc.ma e felicissima Signora Duchessa di simplice sia fatta doppia di corpo, e Dio li faccia uscire maschio e non più bello né più saporito del signor don Francisco,’ Giovio, Lettere, 1:342 (from Rome, 28 June 1544). 18 ‘Ho voluto con questa fare riverenzia a quella del felice parto della Ecc.ma Signora Duchessa, puoi che col donargli una fresca rosa per viva ragion dell’alternata fecundità gli promette un vago e maschio frutto fra X mesi.’ Giovio, Lettere, 2:9–10 (from Rome, 21 February 1545). On Eleonora’s fecundity see also Cini, Vita del Serenissimo, p. 103 (‘Portò questa rara donna seco oltre alla bellezza, che fu in lei singulare, la pudicizia, & la fecondità; divenendo in breve tempo madre di molti, & dei più bei figliuoli, che in Italia, o forse altrove si potessero vedere’); Galluzzi, Storia del Granducato, 1:94; and the references contained in Eleonora’s funeral orations, cited in Cox-Rearick, ‘La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa.’ I thank Janet Cox-Rearick for allowing me to read a draft of this paper prior to its publication. 19 Upon the deaths of Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, and Duke Alessandro. Giovio, in a letter to Cosimo congratulating him on the birth of his eighth child and fourth son, Antonio, who was to die shortly thereafter, makes a direct comparison between the instability caused by the lack of a legitimate male heir on the death of Alessandro de’ Medici and the assurance of stability under Cosimo as a result of Eleonora’s ‘incomparable fecundity’: ‘La buona nuova, qual mi ha dato il signor Ambasciatore, del felice parto dell’Ecc.ma Signora Duchessa, mi ha portato doppia consolazione; poi che l’alternativa non dà più sospetto a chi più presto aspetta maschio che

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future of the Medici as dukes of Florence. The stability provided by Cosimo’s autocracy was an important theme in his early propaganda; the continuation of his line would guarantee the maintenance of that stability, which in turn ensured the prosperity of the city. As early as 1539, in the ephemeral decorations for Eleonora’s triumphal entry into Florence, the production of heirs was equated with the stability of the city. The arch erected temporarily in front of the Porta al Prato, the very first of the decorations seen by the new duchess, bore the following inscription: Enter, enter into your city under the most fortunate omens, oh Eleonora, fertile and of the finest stock. May you produce progeny similar to your father in your homeland and your grandfather abroad, and thus guarantee eternal security for the Medici name and its most devoted citizens.20

For those who failed to note the inscription, a chorus of twenty-four voices positioned at the top of the arch sang the same words to music by Francesco Corteccia.21 And just in case Cosimo’s new consort or his Florentine subjects were not well versed in Latin, a three-metre-high allegorical figure was placed centrally over the frontispiece of the arch; accompanied by five playful putti, three at her feet, one at her hip and one on her shoulder, she represented Fecundity. With the subsidiary allegories of Security and Eternity lying down on either side of her, the composition gave clear visual expression to the arch’s inscription.22 In Florence, Eleonora’s personal fecundity quickly became associated with abundance. The contemporary diarist Agostino Lapini, for example, femina [the first six children had been born alternatively female then male]; e che da questa incomparabil fecundità si ha da sperare una numerosa stirpe de discendenzia per certissimo stabilimento de lo Stato et eterna propagazione de l’illustrissima Casa. E quando io mi ricordo delle burle che già ci fece la cappricciosa Fortuna nel nascimento e nel fine del Cardinale Ippolito e del Duca Alessandro, mi nascono le lagrime, come suol intervenire alli vecchi teneri antiqui servitori. Dico questo, perché sopra questi dui germugli nati a caso e serbati per strana sorte da una fante e da un pedante, erano fundati tutti li consigli e tutte le speranze di Leone e di Clemente. Mi vengon adunque le dolcissime lagrime de la presente felicità sopra l’amare delle passate disgrazie.’ Lettere, 2:123 (from Rome, 3 July 1548). 20 ‘INGREDERE INGREDERE FOELICISS[IMIS] AVSPICIIS VRBEM TVAM HELIONORA AC OPTIMAE PROLIS FOECVNDA ITA DOMI SIMILEM PATRI FORIS AVO SOBOLEM PRODVCAS VT MEDICEO NOMINI EIVSQVE DEVOTISS[IMIS] CIVIBVS SECVRITATEM PRAESTES AETERNAM.’ I thank Irene Somigli and Mauro Mussolin for their assistance with this translation. For a slightly different English translation of the inscription, see Minor and Mitchell, A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 103, n. 13, cited in Watt, ‘Veni, sponsa,’ p. 27, n. 23. 21 Giambullari, Apparato et feste, pp. 9–10. 22 Vasari, Vite, 6:86–87. For further bibliography regarding the 1539 entrata, see Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service,’ p. 233, n. 39; see also Watt, ‘Veni, sponsa.’

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recorded the birth and baptism of Francesco I for the year 1541 and then observed, ‘There was in this year great abundance of all things.’23 During the baptismal celebrations for each of Cosimo’s and Eleonora’s children, alms were widely distributed, helping to reinforce the link in contemporary minds between the duchess’s fertility and the wealth of the general populace in Florence.24 Salviati’s image of Dovizia in the centre medallion of the Scrittoio ceiling, then, appears to represent in very precise fashion this nexus between Eleonora’s personal fertility and the theme of Abundance. The two playful putti who accompany this personification may well have been intended to refer to the two male heirs the duchess had produced by the time this decoration was commissioned. In later Medici iconography, Abundance would often be conflated with harvest goddesses like Ops and Ceres. We know from the description of the Cybele temporarily erected in Siena in 1560, for example, that Ammannati chose to depict her not only with her traditional attribute, the turreted crown, but also with an attribute of Abundance, the fruit-bearing branch.25 Salviati’s allegorical ceiling figure may therefore have been intended to incorporate a sophisticated reference to the Ceres myth. Like Eleonora after 1543, Ceres was a goddess who had had two sons by the hero Iasion: Plutus, the god of wealth, and Philomelus, a farmer and the inventor of the wagon.26 While Salviati’s figure of Abundance may also have alluded to Ceres, a number of subsequent works point to the specific identification by contemporaries of Eleonora with this grain goddess. Possibly as early as 1548, Bandinelli had converted his first sculpture of Eve for the high altar of the Duomo into a Ceres and made a gift of it to the duchess (Figure 3.2);27 Eleonora gave the work an important position in the Boboli Gardens, developed under the 23 ‘1541. A’ dì 25 di marzo parturì la seconda volta la sopradetta duchessa Eleonora, che fu mastio: e se gli pose nome Francesco, che fu principe: e lo portò a battesimo messer Luigi Ridolfi. Battezzossi a’ dì primo d’agosto 1542 [sic: 1541]; fu in questo anno grande abondanzia di ogni cosa,’ Lapini, Diario fiorentino, p. 103. 24 Cantini, Vita di Cosimo, pp. 123, 128–133, 223. 25 See Cirni Corso’s description cited above. 26 Hesiod, Theogony, p. 80 (XII, vv. 820–1022); Tripp, Meridian Handbook, p. 194. 27 Vasari, Vite, 6:180. Having abandoned his first project for the Adam, and then having converted it into a Bacchus which he donated to Cosimo, who kept it with his most prized sculptures, Bandinelli’s first Eve could also no longer be used. The decision to convert the statue into a Ceres, provide it with a pendant Apollo, and donate the two works to Eleonora, was a clever gesture on the part of Bandinelli, who needed to stay in the duchess’s favour; the importance of Eleonora’s protection for Bandinelli during these years is repeatedly noted by Vasari in his life of the artist (e.g., p. 184). For the date of the Ceres, see Heikamp, ‘Commento’ in Vasari, Le vite, 6:68, n. 1.

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Baccio Bandinelli, Ceres, Façade, Grotta Grande, Boboli Gardens, Florence, c. 1548 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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duchess’s patronage from 1550 until her death in 1562.28 Ammannati also executed a figure of Ceres for his great fountain project for the Sala Grande in the Palazzo Vecchio (Figure 3.3).29 Malcolm Campbell has characterized this project as a pendant to Bandinelli’s sculptural programme for the Udienza at the opposite end of the hall; while Bandinelli’s works literally depict the illustrious men of the Medici ducal line, Ammannati’s fountain allegorically celebrates the women of the house, especially Eleonora.30 Had Ammannati’s Ceres been installed as intended in the Sala Grande, it would quite literally have been linked to Bandinelli’s Ceres on the opposite side of the river; the water to supply the Sala Grande fountain would have passed through the Boboli Gardens, where its last collecting point was marked precisely by this figure.31 Ammannati’s Ceres, however, was part of a larger composition that contained the nucleus of his subsequent ephemera celebrating the duchess in the 1560 Siena apparato. As in the later programme, the central figures of Ammannati’s fountain were Ceres and Juno (Figure 3.4). Eleonora’s association with Juno has been studied in depth by modern scholars, especially Janet Cox-Rearick.32 Perhaps the clearest evidence of this association appears in Domenico Poggini’s portrait medal of the duchess, executed in 1551, the reverse of which depicts one of Juno’s peahens sheltering its young,33 while the earliest example of the use of Juno imagery to allude to Eleonora appears to be the tabernacle containing a statue of the goddess included by Salviati in 28 The Eve/Ceres and its pendant Apollo were placed in the niches of Vasari’s façade for the Vivaio, or fishpond, in the Boboli Gardens, constructed between 1557 and 1559, and subsequently incorporated as the lower level of the façade of Buontalenti’s Grotta Grande (1583–93). On the significance of the Vivaio and its sculptural programme, see Edelstein, ‘“Acqua viva e corrente”,’ with references to the previous literature. 29 The components of the fountain are now all in the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. 30 Campbell, ‘Observations on the Salone,’ esp. pp. 822–824. See also: Borghini, Riposo, pp. 592–595; Heikamp, ‘Ammannati’s Fountain;’ Heikamp, ‘Bartolomeo Ammannati;’ Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 223–226; Lazzaro, Italian Renaissance Garden, pp. 152–154; Lazzaro, ‘Visual Language,’ pp. 82–83, esp. n. 28. 31 On the water system of the Boboli Gardens and its outlets on the opposite side of the river, see Edelstein, ‘“Acqua viva e corrente”,’ with references to the previous literature. 32 See Cox-Rearick, ‘La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa’ for further discussion of Eleonora’s identification with Juno in Bronzino’s funeral oration for the duchess and in Ammannati’s fountain. 33 For the medal and the identification of Eleonora with Juno, see: Giovio, Lettere, 2:200– 201; Giovio, Dialogi, p. 417; Vasari, Zibaldone, p. 50; Plon, Benvenuto Cellini, p. 385; Baia, Leonora di Toledo, pp. 66–67; Cox-Rearick, Dynasty and Destiny, p. 290; Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 42–45 (esp. p. 44, Figure 28, for an image of the medal, both recto and verso). See also below for Vasari’s identification of Eleonora with Juno and for the association of peacocks with this goddess.

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Bartolomeo Ammannati, Ceres, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 1555–63 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Bartolomeo Ammannati, Juno, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 1555–63 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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his Triumph of Camillus fresco for the Sala dell’Udienza (Figure 3.5). This work may also represent the earliest pairing of Juno with harvest goddess/ abundance imagery in reference to the duchess. An allegorical figure of a woman with a cornucopia can just be discerned in the socle directly beneath the Juno tabernacle; this fictive bronze relief, mostly hidden behind the large fictive marble garland swag overflowing with fruits, vegetables and grains, is similar to Salviati’s Scrittoio Dovizia. Significant roles were also assigned to Juno, Ceres and Ops in another important work of ducal patronage, the decorative programme for Vasari’s Quartiere degli Elementi in the Palazzo Vecchio. Entire rooms were dedicated to the harvest goddesses in this monumental apartment, while a terrace was reserved for the queenly goddess of marriage. Although in the Ragionamenti Vasari does not identify Ceres with Eleonora, it is likely that the decorations of the room dedicated to her were originally intended as an homage to the duchess (Figure 3.6); by the time Vasari wrote the gloss of these decorations, there had been an apparently conscious decision to limit the number of references to the now defunct duchess. In the ceiling decoration of the Sala di Cerere, however, Vasari included an image of Juno, a clear reference to Eleonora, in a roundel in the corner below the left portion of the central panel.34 Since Vasari’s decorations for the Quartiere degli Elementi were begun in 1555, the same year as Ammannati’s fountain; it is likely that the combination of Ceres and Juno here were meant to contain similar allusions.35 Furthermore, it was Vasari who was commissioned by Eleonora to design the architectural setting for Bandinelli’s Ceres in the Boboli Gardens in 1556; it is, therefore, highly unlikely that Vasari would not have been conscious of the connection between the duchess and the harvest goddess. Unlike the description of the Sala di Cerere in the Ragionamenti, Vasari’s gloss of the programme for the Terrazzo di Giunone in the same text provides unequivocal evidence for the allusions to Eleonora contained in these decorations, executed by Cristofano Gherardi il Doceno and Marco da Faenza between 1556 and 1557 (Figure 3.7):36

34

Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 77. See: ASF, MdP 453, ff. 210–211 (Giorgio Vasari in Florence to Cosimo I, location unknown [‘Dove sia’], 23 April 1556), published in Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 1:442–447 (cited with old numeration, ff. 203–204; see also Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ 2:641–642, doc. 27, for an alternative transcription); Vasari, Vite, 6:240, 7:258, 617, 697, 8:55–62; Vasari, Libro delle ricordanze, pp. 74–75; Borghini, Riposo, pp. 546–548; Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 59–113. 36 For the Terrazzo di Giunone, see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 102–104. 35

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Figure 3.5

Francesco Salviati, Triumph of Camillus, detail, Sala dell’Udienza, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1543–5 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Figure 3.6

Giorgio Vasari, Ceiling Decoration, Sala di Cerere, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–6 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Figure 3.7

Giorgio Vasari, Vault Decoration, Terrazzo di Giunone, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1556–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Your Excellency knows that of Ops and Saturn were born Jupiter and Juno, who was sister and wife of Jupiter; this suggests the unity of mind between the lord duke your father and the most illustrious lady duchess your mother, who is certainly like Juno, goddess of air, of riches, of kingdoms and of matrimony.37

Vasari then continues with a long, highly detailed description of Eleonora’s command of those qualities that correspond to each of these four areas governed by Juno; for example, how the duchess is like the goddess of air in calming the storms of her subjects’ lives or how she is like the goddess of matrimony in facilitating the unions of her subjects, especially through the generous provision of dowries and counter-dowries to needy nobles.38 Of particular interest are Vasari’s comments on Eleonora’s wealth: And where better to speak of realms and riches than in speaking of Her Excellency, who is not only rich in the virtues of the soul, but is the patron of all the riches of our duke and the end to his will? And how many great gifts has she herself with equal greatness distributed and distributes every day, that no other woman has ever surpassed her for elegant, regal and splendid intent?39

Her fecundity is characterized in similar terms: And who is like her in giving birth for fecundity and fortunate offspring, that Juno was called Lucina for this alone?40

Vasari then continues his paragone between the duchess and Juno with a description of the origin of the goddess’s association with the peacock, stating that: Having placed this example before her chariot, as a mirror, one sees how she achieves marvellous effects by demonstrating through her virtuous actions to be serene, conjugal, fecund, rich, generous, pious, just, and religious, such that if I

37 ‘Vostra Eccellenza sa che di Opi e di Saturno nasce Giove e Giunone, qual fu sorella e moglie di Giove, applicando ciò alli animi conformi del duca signor vostro padre, e della illustrissima signora duchessa madre vostra, la quale certamente, come Giunone, dea dell’aria, delle richezze, e de’ regni, e de’ matrimoni.’ Vasari, Vite, 8:73. 38 Vasari, Vite, 8:73–74. 39 ‘E dove si può meglio dire de’ regni e delle ricchezze che in S. E.? la quale non solo è ricca delle virtù dell’animo, ma è patrona di tutte le ricchezze del duca nostro e fino della volontà: e quanti donativi grandi per lei stessa con egual grandezza ha distribuiti e distribuisce ogni giorno, che nessuna altra giammai la passò di ornamento, e di regalità, e di splendore d’animo?’ Vasari, Vite, 8:73–74. 40 ‘E quale è simile è lei, che abbi sopra i parti la fecundità e le felice generazione? che Giunone fu invocata Lucina per questo solo.’ Vasari, Vite, 8:74.

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Bruce L. Edelstein knew, as I do not, how to say that which could be said of her virtues, I would never finish speaking of them today.41

Vasari concludes his analysis with a description of the four main subsidiary figures in the vault decoration, the goddesses Hebe and Iris and allegories of Abundance and Authority: So, after virtuous labour of body and soul, those who grow old will be assisted, having by means of Juno acquired riches, which are the source of life’s comforts, and make the horn of abundance full of fruit for those who toiled in their youth. Thus, the goddess of authority commands her servants, and all others in need, who for their bread and wages obey her.42

The decorations for the Terrazzo di Giunone were among the most complex ducal works to celebrate Eleonora. Vasari’s description identifies the duchess’s virtues with specific figures in the composition, rather fortunately for us since the portion of the vault decoration that once contained the images of Hebe and Iris is now lost. The surviving portion of the vault clearly depicts the reason for the association of Juno with Eleonora: the central image of the goddess on her peacock-drawn chariot is flanked by personifications of those virtues most closely associated with her: Abundance and Authority (or, as we might say today, Money and Power). The passage from the Ragionamenti provides a compendium of those qualities associated with Eleonora by contemporaries, or at least those that were thought appropriate to be associated with her in ducal propaganda; clearly, by the time the Ragionamenti were written, Eleonora’s identification with the themes of Abundance and Fecundity had become quite well established.43 Given the frequency of Eleonora’s association with the harvest goddesses Ceres and Cybele and the general theme of Abundance, I would suggest that the duchess’s agriculturally-based financial activities were part of the inspiration behind another major work in the Quartiere degli Elementi, Vasari’s

41 ‘Onde per avere tale esemplo dinanzi al carro, come specchio, si vede in quella fare effetti mirabili col mostrare nelle virtuose azioni sue esser serena, coniugale, feconda, ricca, liberale, pia, giusta e religiosa; che se io sapessi, come non so, dire quel che dir si potrebbe delle virtù sue, io non finirei mai oggi.’ Vasari, Vite, 8:74. 42 ‘Così doppo le fatiche virtuose, negli animi e ne’ corpi, che invecchiano, è elemento ed aiuto, avendo per mezzo di Giunone acquistato le ricchezze, le quali sono cagione della commodità della vita, e fanno abbondanza col corno pieno di frutti coloro che [si sono] affaticati nella gioventù: dove poi la dea della Podestà comanda ai servi, ed alli altri bisognosi, che per il pane, e i salari l’ubbidiscano.’ Vasari, Vite, 8:75. 43 See Cox-Rearick, ‘La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa’ for further discussion of Eleonora as Juno in the Quartiere degli Elementi and in Vasari’s Ragionamenti.

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fresco depicting The First Fruits of the Earth Offered to Saturn (Figure 3.8). The fresco, as has always been recognized, primarily celebrates Cosimo’s virtues as a new Saturn. His identification with the seed god is made clear by the presence, directly beneath the father of the Olympians, of the Capricorn, one of the duke’s most important and frequently used devices, his rising sign, but also that of Augustus and of the new Caesar, Cosimo’s direct patron, Emperor Charles V. And just in case the intended allusions to the duke were not clear enough, Vasari included a representation of Cosimo’s other principal device, the tortoise with a sail, generally accompanied by the Virgilian motto ‘Festina lente.’ Vasari’s depiction of this second device is unique, as the two components of the impresa are held aloft by a female figure, whose great forelock makes her easily identifiable as Fortune. All of these elements are carefully described and analysed by the artist in the Ragionamenti; the point of this part of the composition is to suggest that through the virtue of temperance (implied by the device and its motto, ‘Make haste slowly’), the duke’s government will always be successful since it will be accompanied by good fortune.44 The composition, however, is not only about Saturn. On the opposite side of the fresco we find another allegorical figure placed symmetrically to the image of Fortune with Cosimo’s device. Although Vasari calls this figure a representation of Mother Earth (‘madre Terra’),45 that is, the goddess generally identified with Gaia or with the Roman Tellus, it is clear that the harvest goddess to which he is referring is Saturn’s Olympian daughter Demeter, the Roman Ceres; her radial crown and sceptre, each composed of ears of grain, identify her as such. In addition, the oval vignette flanking this side of the composition depicts Triptolemus, the god chosen by Demeter to teach mankind the secrets of agriculture, at the very plough the goddess gave him (Figure 3.9).46 As we have seen, the harvest goddess was associated with Eleonora in many other contemporary works of ducal patronage, and particularly when these were conflated with symbols of Abundance; this Ceres, too, holds the horn of plenty in her left hand. Again, Vasari does not explicitly identify her with the duchess, but the position of this figure opposite a device alluding to the duke suggests that such a reference was intended. The message appears clear: the good fortune of Cosimo’s government, sustained by his temperate rule, would also be guaranteed by Eleonora’s complementary insurance of abundance. Here, the allusion was probably much less to Eleonora’s personal fertility than to her responsibility to provide the city of 44

Vasari, Vite, 8:32. Vasari, Vite, 8:31. 46 Vasari, Vite, 8:32. 45

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Figure 3.8

Giorgio Vasari, The First Fruits of the Earth Offered to Saturn, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Musei Comunali di Firenze)

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Figure 3.9

Giorgio Vasari, Triptolemus at the Plough, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Florence with ample grain supplies. The duchess’s virtual monopoly over the local grain market assured her a substantial annual income and made Cosimo the first of her debtors.47 The vignette to the right of the composition may refer to the important role played by the duchess in developing and sustaining the Medici patrimony (Figure 3.10); the sacrifice to the multi-breasted goddess identified by Vasari as Cybele was intended to show that ‘Cybele is the source of the provisions and gifts that His Excellency makes to all his servants, and how many in his dominions are fed and nourished by him every day.’48 The analogy between the harvest goddess and Eleonora as the source of Cosimo’s wealth seems implicit. The large allegory and its accompanying oval vignettes may thus be seen as representing not the benefits of Cosimo’s singular rule, but those of his and Eleonora’s conjugal collaboration.49 Another example of a contemporary iconographic programme intended to suggest in similar fashion the complementary effects of Cosimo’s and Eleonora’s roles in the administration of their state and as the founders of a new ‘godly’ line may be seen in the sculptural programme for the Grotticina di Madama, the first important decorative work completed in the Boboli Gardens for the duchess (Figure 3.11). The centrepiece of this grotto, designed by Tribolo shortly before his death in September 1550 and executed by his son-in-law and faithful follower Davide Fortini between 1553 and 1555, was another gift from the sculptor Bandinelli: a She-Goat, whose swollen udders refer once again to Eleonora’s fertility. The She-Goat is often identified with Amalthea, who suckled the infant Jupiter. With the other goat figures by Giovanni Fancelli, called Nanni di Stocco, in the niche alluding to Cosimo’s device of the Capricorn, the grotto’s iconography suggests the conjunction of fertility, abundance and Medici rule, whose benefits are manifested by the water moving through the garden en route to its benevolent provision to the Florentine populace at its public outlet on the opposite side of the Arno, Ammannati’s Neptune Fountain.50

47

Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 306. ‘Di Cibele sono le provvisioni ed i donativi che Sua Eccellenza fa a tutti li suoi servidori, che egli ha e quanti per il suo dominio egli nutrisce e pasce giornalemente.’ Vasari, Vite, 8:32– 33. 49 A similar conceit may also lie behind an earlier work, the so-called Dovizia tapestry, executed in 1545, probably after a cartoon by Bronzino. Here a female allegorical figure (probably representing Abundance) appears in close proximity to a tortoise. For an image of the work, discussion of its problematic identification and iconography, and references to the previous literature, see Meoni, Arazzi nei musei fiorentini, pp. 158–161. 50 On the water system of the Boboli Gardens, its outlets on the opposite side of the river and its significance, see Edelstein, ‘“Acqua viva e corrente”,’ with references to the previous literature. 48

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Figure 3.10

Giorgio Vasari, Sacrifice to Cybele, Sala degli Elementi, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1555–7 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Figure 3.11

Bruce L. Edelstein

Davide Fortini et al. after Tribolo, Central Niche (sculpture by Baccio Bandinelli and Giovanni Fancelli, called Nanni di Stocco), Grotticina di Madama, Boboli Gardens, Florence, 1553–5 (photo: Bruce Edelstein)

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Eleonora’s association with the land was guaranteed in sixteenth-century Florence through her extensive personal estates and activities in the local grain market. This connection would have been reinforced by her identification in the visual arts with ancient harvest goddesses such as Ceres, Cybele, and classicizing personifications of Abundance. As we have seen, many court artists gave visual expression to the theme of Dovizia throughout the duchess’s lifetime in works of varying complexity, media, and scale. The culmination of both the literal and figurative associations of Eleonora with the land may be seen in her acquisition and development of a vast estate within the city walls, the Palazzo Pitti and Boboli Gardens. The garden elements specifically created for the duchess convey messages that further develop the fertility iconography examined here: the generative powers of both the Tuscan countryside and Eleonora herself are celebrated simultaneously as they nurture the ruling house, render it stable and, ultimately, provide for the ducal couple’s subjects. The Harvard University Center for Italian Renaissance Studies at Villa I Tatti Florence, Italy

Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence, Archivio di Stato Mediceo del Principato 370, 453, 642, 1170, 1176

Published Sources Allegri, Ettore and Alessandro Cecchi. Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici: guida storica. Florence: SPES, 1980. Baia, Anna. Leonora di Toledo Duchessa di Firenze e di Siena. Todi: Z. Foglietti, 1907. Borghini, Raffaello. Il Riposo. Florence: G. Marescotti, 1584; repr. ed. Mario Rosci, Milan: Edizioni Labor, 1967. Campbell, Malcolm. ‘Observations on the Salone dei Cinquecento in the Time of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, 1540–1574,’ vol. 1, pp. 819–830 in Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici nell’Europa del ’500, ed. Giancarlo Garfagnini. 3 vols. Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1983. Cantini, Lorenzo. Vita di Cosimo de’ Medici Primo Granduca di Toscana. Florence: Nella Stamperia Albizziniana, 1805. Cini, Giovambattista. Vita del Serenissimo Signor Cosimo de’ Medici Primo Gran Duca di Toscana. Florence: Giunti, 1611.

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Cirni Corso, Anton Francesco. La reale entrata dell’ecc.mo signor duca et duchesa di Fiorenza, in Siena, con la significatione delle Latine inscrittioni, e con alcuni sonetti. Rome: Antonio Blado stampator camerale, 1560. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Dynasty and Destiny in Medici Art: Pontormo, Leo X, and the Two Cosimos. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Bronzino’s Chapel of Eleonora in the Palazzo Vecchio. California Studies in the History of Art, 29. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1993. Cox-Rearick, Janet. ‘La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa felice memoria: The Posthumous Eleonora di Toledo,’ pp. 225–66 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘The Early Patronage of Eleonora di Toledo: The Camera Verde and its Dependencies in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ 2 vols, PhD dissertation. Boston: Harvard University, 1995. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza: Eleonora d’Aragona ed Eleonora di Toledo a confronto,’ Quaderni storici 35:2, n. 104 (2000), pp. 295– 329. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora di Toledo and Cosimo I de’ Medici: Conjugal Patronage and the Painter-Courtier,’ pp. 225–261 in Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy, eds Sheryl E. Reiss and David G. Wilkins. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 54. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘“Acqua viva e corrente”: Private Display and Public Distribution of Fresh Water in the Neapolitan Villa of Poggioreale as a Hydraulic Model for Sixteenth-Century Medici Gardens,’ in The Politics of Influence: Artistic Exchange in Renaissance Italy, eds Stephen Campbell and Stephen Milner (forthcoming). Galluzzi, [Jacopo] Riguccio. Storia del Granducato di Toscana. 11 vols. Florence: Leonardo Marchini, 1822. Giambullari, Pierfrancesco. Apparato et feste nelle noze dello illustrissimo Signor Duca di Firenze, & della Duchessa sua consorte, con le sue stanze, madriali, comedia, & intermedij, in quelle recitate. Florence: B. Giunta, 1539. Giovio, Paolo. Lettere, ed. Giuseppe Guido Ferrero (Opera, I–II). 2 vols. Rome: Istituto Poligrafico dello Stato, 1956–8. Giovio, Paolo. Dialogi et descriptiones, eds Ernesto Travi and Mariagrazia Penco (Opera, IX). Rome: Istituto Poligrafico dello Stato, 1984. Heikamp, Detlef. ‘Ammannati’s Fountain for the Sala Grande of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence,’ pp. 115–173 in Fons Sapientiae: Renaissance Garden Fountains, ed. Elisabeth B. MacDougall. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1978. Heikamp, Detlef. ‘Bartolomeo Ammannati: Il Concerto poetico di statue,’ pp. 11–48 in Il Concerto di statue, ed. Alessandro Vezzosi. Pratolino, Laboratorio di meraviglie, 4. Florence: Alinea, 1986. Hesiod. Theogony, trans. Norman O. Brown. New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1953. Jones, Roger and Nicholas Penny. Raphael. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1983. Lapini, Agostino. Diario fiorentino dal 252 al 1596, ed. Giuseppe Odoardo Corazzini. Florence: Sansoni, 1900. Lazzaro, Claudia. The Italian Renaissance Garden: From the Conventions of Plant-

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ing, Design, and Ornament to the Grand Gardens of Sixteenth-Century Central Italy. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1990. Lazzaro, Claudia. ‘The Visual Language of Gender in Sixteenth-Century Garden Sculpture,’ pp. 71–113 in Refiguring Woman: Perspectives on Gender and the Italian Renaissance, eds Marilyn Migiel and Juliana Schiesari. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991. Meoni, Lucia. Gli arazzi nei musei fiorentini. La collezione medicea (Catalogo completo), vol. 1 La manifattura da Cosimo I a Cosimo II (1545–1621). Livorno: Sillabe, 1998. Minor, Andrew C. and Bonner Mitchell. A Renaissance Entertainment: Festivities for the Marriage of Cosimo I, Duke of Florence in 1539. Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 1968. Mortari, Luisa. Francesco Salviati. Rome: Leonardo-De Luca, 1992. Plon, Eugène. Benvenuto Cellini, orfévre, médailleur, sculpteur: recherches sur sa vie, sur son oeuvre et sur les pièces qui lui sont attribuées. Paris: E. Plon, 1883. Repetti, Emanuele. Dizionario geografico fisico storico della Toscana contenente la descrizione di tutti i luoghi del Granducato, Ducato di Lucca, Garfagnana e Lunigiana. 6 vols. Florence: Repetti, 1833–46. Tripp, Edward. The Meridian Handbook of Classical Mythology. New York: New American Library, 1970. Vasari, Giorgio. Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori ed architettori, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1878–85. Vasari, Giorgio. Der Literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris, ed. Karl Frey. 2 vols. Munich: Georg Müller, 1923–30. Vasari, Giorgio. Il Libro delle ricordanze, ed. Alessandro del Vita. Rome: R. Istituto d’archeologia e storia dell’arte, 1938. Vasari, Giorgio. Lo Zibaldone, ed. Alessandro del Vita. Roma: Istituto d’archeologia e storia dell’arte, 1938. Vasari, Giorgio. ‘Vita di Baccio Bandinelli Scultore Fiorentino,’ with ‘Commento’ and notes by Detlef Heikamp, vol. 6, pp. 9–86 in Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori, eds Paola Della Pergola, Luigi Grassi and Giovanni Previtali. Milan: Club del Libro, 1964. Vodoz, Eduard. ‘Studien zum architektonischen Werk des Bartolomeo Amannati,’ Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 6:3–4 (July–Dec. 1941), pp. 1–141. Watt, Mary A. ‘Veni, sponsa. Love and Politics at the Wedding of Eleonora di Toledo’ pp. 18–39 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004.

Chapter 4

A Duchess’ Place at Court: The Quartiere di Eleonora in the Palazzo della Signoria in Florence

1

Ilaria Hoppe

The Quartiere di Eleonora in the Palazzo della Signoria was created as an apartment for the second duchess of Tuscany, Eleonora di Toledo, wife of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici.2 In 1540 the court left the family’s earlier residence, the Palazzo Medici on the Via Larga, and moved into the Palazzo della Signoria, the architectural symbol of the Florentine republic, where it set up its official ducal residence.3 As records show, the necessary rearrangement of rooms in the Palazzo della Signoria to accommodate the residential quarters of the ducal family began with the rooms set aside for the duchess.4 Such a decision reveals Cosimo’s interest in presenting Eleonora with a setting suited to her high aristocratic rank as a daughter of the house of Toledo, with a suite that would come up to the standards to which she had become accustomed at the paternal viceregal court in Naples. This concern was expressed as early as 1539 in a letter from Jacopo de’ Medici, one of the two Florentine ambassadors who negotiated her marriage to Cosimo; writing to Cosimo’s secretary, Pierfrancesco Riccio, who would later become Cosimo’s majordomo, Jacopo noted that the two ambassadors did not feel at all comfortable pleading the

1 This chapter summarizes some of the results from my master thesis on the Quartiere. Some observations were previously published in my article on Eleonora’s patronage; see Hoppe, ‘Eleonora von Toledo,’ passim. 2 On Eleonora see Baia, Leonora di Toledo and Pieraccini, La stirpe de’ Medici, 2:55–70. 3 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 4–5, with bibliography. It should be noted that Cosimo did not own the ancestral Palazzo Medici because, on Duke Alessandro’s death (6 January 1537), it had passed to his widow, Duchess Margaret of Austria, the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Charles V; as a result, Cosimo had been obliged to pay Margaret a yearly rent for his use of the palazzo. For the controversy surrounding this inheritance, see Lefevre, ‘Madama’ Margarita d’Austria, pp. 104–106. 4 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 19, 21, 28.

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duke’s case at the viceregal court because they were poorly dressed and had apparently brought fewer presents than was expected.5 Perhaps having Eleonora’s apartment decorated in a representative way was one of the ways the duke found to correct this initial impression. Such, in fact, may be the background to Cosimo’s comment to his father-in-law, Don Pedro de Toledo, in a letter of May 1541, where he assured the viceroy that the new residence in the Palazzo della Signoria contained ‘stanze regali’ (‘royal rooms’).6 Eleonora’s suite was located on the second floor on the south side of the oldest part of the palazzo, with the last two rooms situated on the west side facing the piazza (Figure 4.1; rooms no. 1–8). Below them, on the mezzanine level, was the apartment of Maria Salviati, Eleonora’s mother-in-law, while Cosimo’s own suite was one floor lower still, on the first floor, or piano nobile.7 The three apartments were connected by a spiral staircase that allowed the family to move between them.8 Work on the Quartiere di Eleonora was carried out in two instalments. The first, between 1539 and 1545, saw a new division of rooms under the direction of Battista (or Giovanbattista) di Marco del Tasso (1500–55) as well as the fresco decorations in the first nucleus of rooms, that is, in the Camera Verde (Figure 4.1, no. 5), the chapel (Figure 4.1, no. 7) and the study (Figure 4.1, no. 8). The larger, central room was called Camera Verde because of its landscape frescoes by Ridolfo del Ghirlandaio (1483–1561) completed before May 1542 (but now lost).9 The ceiling, covered with grotesques, alludes to the Medici and contains various symbols of fertility. In the centre, the coats of arms of the Toledo and Medici families are joined together and embraced by the Hapsburg double-headed eagle, thus echoing the heraldic image already used to decorate the entrance gate to the second cortile in the Palazzo Medici for the couple’s wedding banquet.10 This union is echoed in an underlying chiaroscuro all’antica showing a marriage scene. A pelican 5 For the letters of Jacopo de’ Medici from 29 March and 2 April 1539 see Adelson, ‘The Decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio,’ p. 148, n. 7; the originals are in ASF, MdP 1169, insert 4, docs 109–110. Jacopo does not appear in the standard Medici genealogies and seems not to have been directly related to Cosimo. 6 Letter of Cosimo to Pedro de Toledo, 15 May 1541, cited in Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 5; the original is in ASF, MdP 10, f. 114. 7 This computation of floors is in European fashion, whereby the first floor is one floor up from the ground floor. If we were counting floors in the North American fashion, instead, then Cosimo’s suite would be on the second floor, Maria Salviati’s on the mezzanine between the second and third floor, and Eleonora’s on the third floor. 8 This stairway was demolished between c. 1563–5 when Vasari raised the ceiling of the Salone dei Cinquecento; see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 11. 9 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 30–31. 10 A Renaissance Entertainment, p. 124; see also Watt, ‘Veni sponsa,’ pp. 18–39.

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Legend 1 Sala di Gualdrada 2 Sala di Penelope 3 Sala di Ester 4 Sala delle Sabine 5 Camera Verde 6 Salotto 7 Cappella di Eleonora Figure 4.1

8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Scrittoio Sala delle Carte Geografiche Sala dei Gigli/Sala dell’Uriolo Sala delle Udienze Cappella dei Priori Scala piana/grande Salone dei Cinquecento

Floor plan of the Palazzo della Signoria (by permission of Karen Bartram)

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feeding its chicks, the Christian symbol for the Eucharist, is depicted in a field above the entrance into the chapel. According to Vasari, the ceiling decorations of the adjacent study, the Scrittoio, were executed by Francesco Salviati (1510–63).11 In the middle of these grotesques, a female personification of fertility is surrounded by various couples from mythology. The 1553 inventory provides information about the furnishings of the other rooms before they were renovated.12 Two were decked with leather wallhangings in gold and silver, while the fifth room mentioned had tapestries with the ducal coat of arms.13 The subjects of the paintings in the inventory are exclusively religious. There was also a bust of Cosimo identified by Heikamp as the one by Baccio Bandinelli (1493–1560), now in the Bargello.14 The inventory also allows us to determine the different functions of these rooms. Because it lists the Sala dell’Udienza and the Cappella dei Priori before the Quartiere di Eleonora, it follows that the Sala di Gualdrada must be the first room.15 Following this direction of reading, the second room would be the Sala di Penelope, the third the Sala di Ester and so forth (Figure 4.1, nos. 1–6). Because a bed was inventoried only in the room that would later become the Sala di Penelope, we can conclude that this was the Duchess’ bedroom (Figure 4.1, no. 2).16 The room identified in the inventory as ‘Quinta et camera verde’ thus coincides with the location of the current Camera Verde (Figure 4.1, no. 5).17 Together with the Scrittoio and the chapel (perhaps the two closed rooms that were not inventoried), the Sala Verde functions like a smaller suite within the larger context of the apartment. In 11 Vasari, Le Opere, 7:27. For the completion of the decoration around 1545 see Cheney, Francesco Salviati, 2:375; Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 48. 12 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, pp. 56–65. Conti transcribes and comments the inventory; the original is in ASF, Guardaroba Mediceo 28. 13 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, pp. 58, 59, 61. 14 See Heikamp’s note in Vasari, ‘Vita di Baccio Bandinelli’ 6:62, n. 1. The rereading of the inventory has shown that the bust was in the Sala delle Sabine and not in the Sala di Penelope as previously assumed, see below. 15 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, pp. 52 and 58. The ‘scrittoino non inventariato’ could be a piece of furniture or a tiny closet. Bruce Edelstein, ‘The Camera Verde,’ reached the same conclusion and determined that the Sala di Penelope was Eleonora’s bedroom, at least in 1553. I am extremely grateful to him for his advice and help, and most of all for allowing me to read his forthcoming articles before they were published. Edelstein also pointed out to me that as early as 1929 Alfredo Lensi had perfectly understood the correct order of the rooms; Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 144–146. 16 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, p. 58. Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 31, point out that because Conti confused the first room mentioned in the inventory with the fifth room (that is, he confused the Camera Verde with the Sala di Gualdrada), he then misidentified the Camera Verde as the bedroom (p. 61). 17 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, p. 61.

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fact, it appears to have functioned as an office, of sorts, because it contained chests for money and a table for money-counting. Bruce Edelstein’s research has shown the variety of activities that took place in the Camera Verde: here the Duchess received her secretaries daily, carried out various kinds of business or indulged in some of her favourite distractions such as playing cards and gambling.18 Such a multifunctional space in close proximity to a chapel and a study is not unusual; we find it in every court and aristocratic or patrician apartment of the time.19 In the inventory, the last room mentioned is the salotto, or living room.20 Earlier scholars, such as Allegri and Cecchi, had thought this to be the room ‘where one eats in winter’ and whose wooden ceiling, according to Vasari, had been decorated for ‘Sua Eccellenza’ by Francesco Salviati.21 It should be noted, however, that Vasari was using ‘Sua Eccellenza’ to refer to Cosimo, not to Eleonora; as a result, the room ‘where one eats in winter’ was not necessarily Eleonora’s salotto, or even inside her apartment. It has also been suggested that the duchess’ living-room could have been the room located between the Sala delle Sabine and one of the main staircases enlarged by Vasari, the scala piana (Figure 4.1, no. 6).22 This is a plausible suggestion because we find in it the same kind of door frame as in the Quartiere di Eleonora, as well as a coat of arms with the joined Medici and Toledo coats of arms.23 Furthermore, various sources indicate that the salotto was next to a space that gave it access to the Sala dei Gigli.24 18

Bruce Edelstein, ‘The Camera Verde,’ forthcoming. See, for example, the same setting in the residence of Charles V’s aunt, Margaret of Austria (1480–1530), in Mecheln; Eichberger and Beaven, ‘Family Members and Political Allies,’ esp. p. 229; and Franke, Assuerus und Esther am Burgunderhof, p. 117. The disposition of rooms on the piano nobile in the Palazzo Medici had a similar arrangement with chapel, study and camera; see Bulst, ‘Die ursprüngliche innere Aufteilung des Palazzo Medici,’ p. 378. 20 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, p. 62. 21 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 48; but Adelson, ‘The Decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio’ (p. 148) had understood Vasari’s passage correctly in the way presented here. Vasari, Le Opere, 7:27. 22 Lensi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 144 and 146; Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 19. 23 Cosimo allowed for the raising of the ceiling of the sale; from this it follows that the salotto must have had a wooden ceiling which was destroyed and that the coat of arms was put up on the newly exposed stone ceiling; see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 183. 24 In 1560/61 Vasari wrote to Cosimo ‘perche si possa passar dj sopra per ire della sala dell Uriolo [Sala dei Gigli], come si ua oggi nel salotto et camere della Duchessa, … et ancora con la scala che ua sopra in cucjna djritta et agiata, che racconcja quel ricetto doue risponde il salotto della Duchessa,’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:600. 19

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Between 1549–55 part of the top floor of the palazzo was restructured to create the stanze dei signorini, that is, rooms for the Medici children.25 Above them a loggia with a wooden ceiling, the Terrazzo della Duchessa, was built. This open space was accessible through the same spiral staircase that connected Cosimo’s, Maria Salviati’s and Eleonora’s suites (see above).26 Beneath the stanze dei signorini were the rooms for ladies-in-waiting, nurses and female servants. The duchess also used part of this third floor to store her clothes and other objects (not inventoried).27 As the inventory reference to ‘deschi per la scuola dei signorini’ indicates, the ducal children may have received their education in this part of the palazzo.28 The second set of renovations, carried out under Vasari’s direction between 1559 and 1564, focused on the larger rooms, adding large oil on canvas paintings to the ceilings and tapestries on the walls (Figure 4.1, nos. 1–4).29 Vasari’s correspondence indicates that he was responsible for the paintings while Giovanni Stradano (Jan van der Straet, 1523–1605) did the cartoons for the tapestries.30 By 1583, however, the literato and art historian Raffaello Borghini (c. 1541–88) speaks of the paintings as if executed solely by Stradano, an assumption reinforced by recent research.31 In Vasari’s discussion of his model for the renovations of the Quartiere we also learn about the raising of the ceilings and the enlarging of the rooms above for the ladies-in-waiting. 25

Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 10. Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 11. 27 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, pp. 72–78. 28 Conti, La prima reggia di Cosimo I, pp. 73–75. 29 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, pp. 195–212. 30 In a letter dated 3 February 1560/61 Vasari informs the duke that he is busy with the sketches for the paintings; on 15 November 1561 he reports that he has finished them; Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:605. The attribution to Stradano of the cartoons of the tapestries for the first three rooms is supported by records from 1563–4 first published by Conti, Ricerche storiche, p. 52. His work is also mentioned in Vasari’s Vite; see Vasari, Le Opere, 7:617–618. Vasari neglected to mention that Friedrich Sustris (c. 1540–99) did the cartoons showing scenes from the history of Florence for the tapestries in the Sala di Gualdrada; see Palazzo Vecchio, cat. nos 147, 147 bis, 148, pp. 84–85. For the tapestries in the Quartiere di Eleonora see also Thiem, ‘Studien zu Jan van der Straet’, pp. 94–95; Viale Ferrero, Arazzi italiani, pp. 35–37; Heikamp, ‘Die Arazzeria,’ p. 47, n. 44; Heikamp, ‘La manufacture de tapisserie,’ pp. 26–27; Barocchi, ‘Storiografia e museografia,’ pp. 121, 125. 31 Borghini, Il Riposo, 4:580–581. Two drawings by Stradano presented in the 1980s by Scorza and Clifford for the Sala di Penelope provoked discussion about the authorship of the painted panels, indicating that the Flemish painter had a much larger part in their execution than previously assumed. For the discussion see Scorza, ‘A modello by Stradanus,’ pp. 433–437; Clifford, ‘Stradanus and the Sala di Penelope,’ p. 569; Feinberg, From Studio to Studiolo, cat. no. 55, pp. 196–197. See also Barocchi, Vasari pittore, 1:49, who previously ascribed the execution of all panels to Stradano; and Corti, Vasari, p. 98, cat. no. 75. 26

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The alternative passage that still leads into the Camera Verde from above the Salone dei Cinquecento was also a result of this restructuring.32 Before this second restructuring campaign, Eleonora’s apartment could have been accessed from the salotto, the room between the staircase and the Sala delle Sabine (Figure 4.1, no. 6). Between these there is a little passage with tiny rooms and a staircase that leads to the third floor. Another entrance to the Quartiere di Eleonora was also available through the Cappella dei Priori at the other end of the apartment (Figure 4.1, no. 12).

Women’s Quarters and their Function Separate living quarters for male and female rulers had been a necessity since antiquity. In the early Middle Ages, castles and errant courts also had separate, gender-specific lodgings.33 This circumstance found its expression also in theoretical analyses of architecture. When in his treatise on architecture Leon Battista Alberti (1406–72) described the differences between the houses of a prince and a patrician, he recommended separate living quarters for the ruling couple. The only exception, he said, should be a joint bedroom and a common marriage bed. Both ‘households,’ as Alberti called them, should be accessible through the same gate, closed and kept under surveillance by one and the same guard.34 This arrangement is quite different from that of the patrician villa, where, he said, only separate bedrooms, not living quarters, are required. The differentiation between the households of a noble woman and a ruling woman is socially marked. For a patrician lady there was no need to run a separate household because she was not surrounded by an entourage that needed to be fed and lodged. A ruling woman, instead, had a group of ladiesin-waiting who had to be accommodated within her apartment. There, she had to fulfil both public diplomatic duties, such as the reception of guests, petitioners and prominent visitors, as well as tend to more private family matters, such as the upbringing of the ruler’s children. The current scholarly focus on women and gender in the early modern period has identified a general tendency to segregate women into the domestic/private sphere, away 32 Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:517. Edelstein, ‘The Camera Verde,’ Appendix C, demonstrates that it was also possible to access the Sala Verde via the fifteenth-century palco; this, however, was not intended to be an official entry. 33 The first comprehensive study on this topic came out of a conference in Dresden in 1998 at which the focus had been northern European courts during the early modern period. For the conference proceedings see Das Frauenzimmer. 34 Alberti, L’architettura, p. 343.

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from the male-dominated public sphere.35 Women’s lodgings at court reflect this social circumstance only to a certain extent. As is evident from the Quartiere di Eleonora, they were not only domestic/private, but also public areas. This explains why, in contrast to the rooms used by patrician women in republican societies, a female ruler’s quarters were not only expensively furnished, but also decorated with representative iconographic programmes. Examining women’s rooms in late Quattrocento Florence, Susanne Kress finds that such rooms were expensively furnished, but sparsely decorated, if at all, and then generally only with religious pictures. They also did not include any specific female iconography. The often iconographically intense spalliera and cassone paintings we associate with women and their dowries were, in fact, part of the husband’s main chamber, not the wife’s.36 Architecture was not – and often still is not – seen in the context of the politics of gender. However, a sexual discourse could be carried out, if only because of architecture’s fundamental function to house the sexes. Alberti’s text on architecture can thus be seen as a venue to reinforce the normative ideological view on the sexes of his time by virtue of its references to presumed ‘natural gender roles’ and to the authority of antique authors such as Vitruvius and Xenophon.37 In this manner, the preferred order of society is made to appear both ‘natural’ and ‘pre-established’, thereby serving the interests of hierarchical gender relations. Control over the female body was exercised by the pater familias (the father or the husband, as might be the case) within an architecture that both symbolized and re-enforced this order. A ruler’s wife was part of this dynamic. However, in her case control over her body could not be exercised solely by her husband’s watchful eye, but had to be ensured also by the physical structure and arrangement of her quarters. Even though the ruling prince had the exclusive privilege of being the only man to have unrestricted access to his wife’s apartment, greater precautions had to be taken to ensure the security of these rooms. Among other things, a complex architectural disposition was needed to regulate access to them and, ultimately, to guarantee the legitimacy of future princes. In the case of the Quartiere di Eleonora, both the arrangement of the entrances to the apartment and its distance from the main entrance to the palazzo on the ground floor or even from the Salone dei Cinquecento would have fulfilled the architectural demands for control and safety. These, in turn, would have been supplemented by human control. We know from Vasari’s 35

Brown, ‘A Woman’s Place,’ esp. pp. 215–217, just as an example. Kress, ‘Frauenzimmer der Florentiner Renaissance’, esp. pp. 96, 104, 100, 106. 37 Wigley, ‘Untitled,’ pp. 33–34. 36

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correspondence, for example, that access to Eleonora’s rooms was closely guarded by a lady-in-waiting, Donna Antonia, even when the duchess was not in her rooms. In a letter to Cosimo, Vasari described the progress of the renovations and reported that after having worked on the ceilings of the first two rooms of the Quartiere he had tried to go on to the following rooms, but was denied access to them by Donna Antonia. Only the duke’s personal permission allowed Vasari to sidestep the lady-in-waiting and gain access to the next rooms scheduled for renovation.38 Although it answers perfectly to the security requirements for a ruling woman’s quarters, the location of the Quartiere di Eleonora two floors above the suite of rooms occupied by her husband and one floor above those of her mother-in-law was, as far as I have been able to determine, unique in Italy.39 In Italian courtly residences of the early modern period the ruling couple’s apartments, although separated, were usually on the same floor, generally the piano nobile. Although the wife’s quarters were always more secluded than those of the husband, the two often shared a room or a chapel, and always had an additional bedroom at one’s disposal.40 In the case of the Palazzo della Signoria, these quarters were joined not by such a room, but by a spiral staircase. This solution was perhaps due to the adaptation of the older structure of the palazzo to the needs of the Medici court.

Eleonora’s Chapel Eleonora di Toledo’s position within the context of a male-dominated courtly system, as well as her family’s close ties with the imperial Hapsburg court to which Cosimo was loyal and dependent, can serve as the basis for an interpretation of the ‘Famous Women’ cycle in her rooms and of the frescoes in the chapel next to them. In so doing, one can notice a significant shift in the iconography of the two decorative programmes. 38 Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:593, 597; the permissions are dated 15 and 18 January 1560/61. 39 The only other example we know is the first suite for Isabella d’Este in the Castello di San Giorgio in Mantua; see Liebenwein, Studiolo, p. 104, n. 390, with bibliography. 40 To offer just a few examples: for the apartments of the Sforza court in Pavia in the fifteenth century, see Welch, ‘Galeazzo Maria Sforza and the castello di Pavia,’ pp. 359–360 and 365– 367; for the Sforza court in Milan see Welch, ‘The Image of a Fifteenth-Century Court,’ pp. 166–167, plan A and B. For Eleonora Gonzaga’s rooms in the self-commissioned annex to the Villa Imperiale in Pesaro, see Eiche, ‘Prologue to the Villa Imperiale Frescoes,’ pp. 116–118. For the duchess’ apartments at the court of Urbino in the sixteenth century, see Rotondi, The Ducal Palace of Urbino, Figure 54.

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In the chapel, Bronzino’s frescoes illustrating Moses’ leadership during the Exodus can be read as typological references to the altarpiece panel, The Lamentation of Christ.41 It also contains an iconographical subtext that refers explicitly to the sacrament of the Eucharistic. Janet Cox-Rearick has summarized this interpretation drawing in particular on certain features of the Lamentation and its typological association with the frescoes of Moses Striking the Rock and the Gathering of the Manna to its right.42 Another indication of the Eucharistic theme in the decorative programme can be found in the image of the putti holding the communion cup on the wall over the door inside the chapel, and in the image of the pelican feeding her chicks on the ceiling of the Camera Verde by the entrance to the chapel.43 The strong emphasis on the theme of the Eucharist may also bear a religious/political meaning. The Catholic understanding of the Eucharist, strongly challenged by the Protestant movement, had become a point of reference for the Catholic response to the religious debates of the time. Veneration of the Eucharist had also been part of the spiritual tradition of the Hapsburg family as far back as the foundation of their dynasty by Emperor Rudolf I (1218– 91).44 This tradition had recently been revived by Emperor Charles V through official processions and various commissions for churches and chapels, all part of a public dynastic representation of the Hapsburgs.45 The Catholic reaffirmation and the Hapsburg revival of devotion to the Eucharist thus served to frame a Catholic conception of rulership that would become a crucial aspect of sovereignty during the Counter-Reformation. Because the Medici owed their return to power to Emperor Charles V (1530), who later also approved Cosimo’s accession to the throne (1537), the adoption of Herculean and Roman Augustan imagery by Cosimo during the first decade of his reign not only referred to a heroic past, but tied him 41 For the execution of the frescoes around 1542–43 and the altarpiece in 1545 see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, pp. 26–27 and Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 60, n. 21 and pp. 74–85. 42 Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 191–194, 228–229. See also Edelstein, ‘Observations,’ p. 162, n. 16, who refers to Pope Paul III’s reaffirmation in 1539 of the power of the Eucharist. 43 Smyth, ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage,’ p. 95, n. 40, interprets the putti as a reflection of Eleonora’s personal piety strongly influenced by the Jesuits. Smyth therefore proposed a dating of the putti in the 1550s, instead of the earlier suggestion that they were executed by Alessandro Allori (1535–1607) in the 1580s. If one questions this dating and attribution, then there is no evidence against their having been executed by Bronzino together with the other frescoes. For the relationship between Eleonora and the Jesuits see also Franceschini, ‘Eleonora de Toledo and the Jesuits.’ 44 Coreth, Pietas Austriaca, pp. 18–37. 45 Mezzatesta, ‘Imperial Themes,’ pp. 97–98; Coreth, Pietas Austriaca, p. 28.

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to the emperor, as Philipp Mezzatesta and others have observed.46 The introduction of the Eucharistic theme into the programme of the chapel may thus have been a similar adoption of the imagery promoted by the Hapsburg court, and not the result of Eleonora’s personal piety. As the patron of the chapel, Eleonora had found her visual representation within the scheme of the decorative programme. Most clearly, she seems to appear in the guise of the pregnant woman standing behind Moses in the fresco to the left of the altar. This scene in the right foreground depicts the episode when Moses hands his leadership over to Joshua, who will then guide the chosen people into the Promised Land. Cox-Rearick has identified in this scene the portrait of Cosimo’s secretary, Pierfrancesco Riccio, in the guise of the priest Eleazar. She has also shown the close connection between the execution of the fresco, the representation of St Francis on the ceiling vault, and the birth of a male heir named Francesco.47 To see in this woman an idealized representation of Eleonora as the genetrix who secures the continuity of the Medici dynasty by giving birth to Francesco is generally accepted.48 Such an interpretation is further emphasized by Eleazar’s strange hand gesture: he points to the pregnant woman behind Moses looking towards him. A comparison with Hieronymus Cock’s engraving after the fresco does show a female figure, but she stands further in the background and Eleazar does not point towards her.49 Evidently in executing the etching there was no need to build up a connection with a female patron, and so Cock revised the impact of the gesture. Eleonora’s role at court, especially in the early years, was not only to serve as a pledge for good diplomatic relations with the Hapsburg court, but also, and primarily, to be a fecund wife. Such a role was already expressed in the ephemeral decorations for her wedding.50 It now emerged again in the arrangement of, and control over, her apartment. Against this background, the idealized image of her that we find in the chapel fits very well with the representational scheme of Eleonora as genetrix, mother to a new dynasty of Medici rulers.

46

Mezzatesta, ‘Imperial Themes,’ p. 339. Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 229–248, 310. 48 Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 316–318; Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service,’ p. 239. 49 For the illustration see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 231, Figure 155. 50 See Watt, ‘Veni sponsa.’ 47

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The ‘Famous Women’ Cycle For the later ‘Famous Women’ cycle in Eleonora’s rooms (1559–64), the duchess’ fertility was no longer such an important factor. Eleonora had fulfilled her dynastic duties in giving birth to several male children and thus had clearly shown herself to be the genetrix the Medici needed for the survival of their dynasty. As a result, this later fresco cycle focused instead on exemplary wives in order to highlight not reproduction, but female virtues that promote the desired relation between the sexes. The decorative programme for the ‘Famous Women’ cycle belongs to the extensive redecorating campaign carried out according to Vasari’s model and designs. Each of the four rooms was dedicated to a specific heroine and age: the first to the Sabine Ersilia and Roman antiquity, the second to the Biblical Esther and the age of the old covenant, the third to faithful Penelope and Greek antiquity, and the last to the virgin Gualdrada and the history of Florence. While the stories of Esther and Penelope find their visual echo in the tapestries later executed for these rooms, those of Ersilia and Gualdrada in the first and the last rooms do not. They reveal, instead, a different set of priorities. The payment records for Stradano, the etchings of Thedor Galle (Albertina, Vienna) and a drawing by Stradano in Windsor Castle suggest that an entire series of famous women from Roman antiquity had originally been planned for the Sala delle Sabine.51 The only tapestry to survive supports this suggestion; it depicts The Triumphal Entry of the Vestal Virgin Claudia and her Father in Rome, and not Ersilia.52 The missing tapestries apparently depicted Cloelia, Tuccia, Veturia and Cornelia. The tapestries for the Sala di Gualdrada, woven after cartoons from Friedrich Sustris, also show a variety of different subjects, this time drawn from the founding myth of Florence: The Siege of the Goths before Fiesole, The Consecration of the Baptistery and The Alliance between Fiesole and Florence.53

51 Conti, Ricerche storiche, p. 52; Thiem, ‘Studien zu Jan van der Straet,’ pp. 94–95; Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, p. 198; and Palazzo Vecchio, p. 73. For the etchings in Vienna see Benesch, Die Zeichnungen der Niederländischen Schulen, p. 22, nos 171–175 and Hollstein, Dutch and Flemish Etchings, 7:86, nos 390–395. For the drawing in Windsor Castle and the etchings in Vienna see White and Crawley, The Dutch and Flemish Drawings, p. 95, cat. no. 165. 52 Palazzo Vecchio, p. 73, no. 119. Heikamp, ‘Die Arazzeria medicea,’ p. 183, n. 3, identified the subject, previously published by Viale Ferrero, Arazzi italiani, p. 36, incorrectly as Trajan Does Justice to the Widow. 53 Conti, Ricerche storiche, pp. 52–53; Heikamp, ‘La manufacture de tapisserie des Médicis,’ pp. 26–27; Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 84–85, cat. nos 147, 147 bis, 148; Veen, ‘Art and Propaganda,’ p. 109, n. 24.

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The programme for the ‘Famous Women’ iconography was apparently chosen not by the duchess, but by Vasari. A letter from him to Cosimo dated January 1560/1 reveals that, ‘although I [Vasari] had thought of painting there the stories of those regal women who, with their deeds, matched the virtue of men, or even surpassed it,’ at that time there was still some uncertainty about the programme that needed to be resolved before the artist could proceed with his work.54 Cosimo answered that he liked the invenzione and that Vasari should proceed with it.55 The allegorical cycle of ‘Famous Men’ (now lost) devised for Cosimo’s apartment had been developed by the historian and philologist Vincenzo Borghini (1515–80) and possibly also by the literato and philologist Cosimo Bartoli (1503–72).56 It is possible that these men also offered suggestions for the ‘Famous Women’ cycle, as a comparison of the final product in the Quartiere di Eleonora and correspondence between the literati and Vasari indicates. Each deed in the ‘Famous Men’ cycle was to carry a double message: it had to symbolize a princely and manly virtue, such as bravery or generosity, and be an allegory that would highlight the virtues of the prince. In Eleonora’s apartment, the deeds in the ‘Famous Women’ cycle also carry a double message: they embody standard female virtues, such as beauty, chastity, faithfulness and obedience, but also symbolize female princely virtues, such as peace-making and intercession. In Renaissance Europe, the ‘Famous Women’ motif was closely linked to that of the ‘Famous Men.’ Both had been revived and brought to the fore in the texts of early humanists, especially Petrarch and Boccaccio. In Italian cycles of clarae mulieres and viri illustri, two major groups of personages can be distinguished: figures from antiquity and heroes from near-contemporary local history.57 Such is also the case in the Quartiere di Eleonora. Italian literary production offered a wide range of models that could satisfy the demands of a variety of patrons. They could also offer a wide range of choices from which such patrons could construct dynastic or historical successions that could serve as a legitimizing strategy. In Filarete’s architectural treatise of the mid-fifteenth century, Bianca Maria Visconti, Duchess of Milan and wife of Francesco Sforza, chose to decorate 54 ‘Benche io auessi pensato faruj storie dj quelle donne regie che anno con lor fattj paragonato le virtu degli omjnj, anzi vintogli.’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:601, dated 28 January 1560/61. 55 Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:604. 56 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici, pp. 187–188. 57 For a critical summary including a comprehensive bibliography of famous men and famous women cycles up to the end of the fifteenth century, see Hansmann, Andrea del Castagnos Zyklus, pp. 26–98. For the ‘Famous Women’ see also Tinagli, ‘Eleonora and her “Famous Sisters.” ’

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her suite with images of virtuous heroines such as Judith, Artemisia and Marzia.58 Here we have the ideal combination of a ‘Famous Women’ programme within a female apartment at court. Such a conjunction is rare before the Quartiere di Eleonora.59 Indeed, this seems to be the first such monumental scheme adopted to decorate a suite of rooms. Since we cannot assume a female readership for early texts such as Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus, and even less so for technical works such as Filarete’s Trattato di Architettura, we cannot say that such texts express an underlying didactic intention directed at women. We can, however, claim that they illustrated the preferred model of womanhood for that time, served as erudite amusement, and figured as allegorical metaphors for political, ethical or religious concepts. For the programme in the Quartiere di Eleonora, on the other hand, a didactic function directed at women can be assumed, because we know that it had a female audience. Moreover, the cycle fulfilled a representative function for the duchess, who could be compared with famous women from ancient times. Vasari refers to Eleonora’s virtues in this way in his biography of Aristotele da Sangallo.60 The Sala di Ester, dedicated to the beautiful Hebrew queen at the magnificent Persian court, displays the closest connection between the decorative scheme and the ruling duchess: Eleonora’s name and rank as second duchess of Florence are clearly spelled out in a large inscription, embellished with putti, that runs along the top of the four walls in the room. The only other representative decoration that links Eleonora to a room is to be found in the Sala di Penelope: the Medici and Toledo coat of arms. In every other room it is Cosimo’s arms, imprese, and mottoes that are lavishly displayed, not Eleonora’s. The figure of Esther has a long tradition as a Christian exemplum virtutis, where she serves as a typological reference to the Virgin Mary in her role as intercessor and as a symbol for the triumph over evil. In the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance, Esther was also often represented as a perfect model 58

Filarete, Trattato di Architettura, 1:259. We have references to panels with ‘Famous Women’ decorating a particular room in the suites of both Eleonora d’Aragona, Duchess of Ferrara (1450–93) and her daughter Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua (1474–1539); see Manca, ‘Constantia et Forteza’ and FerinoPagden, La prima donna del mondo, p. 246. In addition, a letter from Giberto Sanseverino tells of a girls’ chamber in the Rocca di Colorno, near Parma, decorated on their father’s orders with famous Roman heroines ‘a meglio istruire le due figliuole nella storia e ad ispirar loro magnamità di sensi’, Cavalca, ‘Un contributo alla cultura antiquaria’, p. 49, n. 59. 60 Vasari speaks of Eleonora as ‘donna nel vero rarissima e di così grande ed incomparabile valore, che può a qual sia più celebre e famosa nell’antiche storie senza contrasto agguagliarsi, e per avventura preporsi.’ Vasari, Le Opere, 6:441. 59

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for a married woman, which helps to explain the dissemination of her image in secular art, and especially in cassone paintings.61 The theme was frequent not only in Florentine art, but also at the courts of Burgundy and in Hapsburg Spain. In a courtly context, Esther’s story functioned not only as an allegory for female Humilitas (modesty), but also as a symbol for the male ruler’s Iustitia (justice) and Magnificentia (generosity, grandeur). Illustrious women of the Hapsburg family, such as Isabel of Portugal (d. 1517), Mary of Burgundy (1457–82) and Juana ‘La Loca’ of Castille (1479–1555), allowed themselves to be praised as ‘New Esther.’62 The image on the ceiling of the Quartiere di Eleonora combines different motifs and presents a sumptuous courtly setting in which the ruler and his exemplary wife act. The submissive gesture of Esther kneeling before King Ahasuerus demonstrated the desired female role and served as a model for a ruler’s wife as intercessor, a function Vasari explicitly attributes to Eleonora in his Ragionamenti.63 Furthermore, the Biblical couple served also as an exemplum for marital love and devotion, as we see in Petrarch’s Trionfo d’amore.64 The Florentine Gualdrada interrupts and brings to a close the temporal and geographic succession of famous queens from Greek, Roman and Hebrew Antiquity. Her legend, handed down through Villani’s Cronica and Boccaccio’s De mulieribus claris tells how she, a chaste Florentine girl, refused to kiss Emperor Otto IV during his visit to Florence in 1180, preferring instead to save her kisses for her future husband.65 The subject of Vasari’s image is a clear reference to the standard woman’s virtue of chastity, but it also illustrates an independent Florentine attitude towards imperial hegemony, and especially one that seeks to validate itself by focusing on the continuity of its history.66 Together with the tapestries and the city scenes, this room was thus meant to glorify Florence and its history of independence.67

61

See, for example, Baskins, ‘Typology, Sexuality, and the Renaissance Esther.’ Franke, Assuerus und Esther, pp. 109–113. 63 Vasari, Le Opere, 8:73. 64 Petrarca, Trionfi, III, vv. 62–66. 65 Benson, ‘Transformations of the “buona Gualdrada” Legend,’ pp. 401–406. 66 Benson, ‘Transformations of the “buona Gualdrada” Legend,’ pp. 413–414 comes to the same conclusion and connects the fresco with Cosimo’s programme for the entire palazzo: to construct a temporal and historic succession between republican and Medicean Florence. 67 Veen, Cosimo de’ Medici, p. 55, n. 28. 62

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Conclusion If we assume that during the first decade of Cosimo’s rule his imagery focused more on the Hapsburg alliance than later in his reign, then the later remodelling of the entire palazzo under Vasari’s direction demonstrated a stronger sense of Florentine self-awareness. Within the Quartiere di Eleonora one can percieve this change in priorities through the comparison between the programme of the chapel, that, among other things, underscored the eucharistic theme promoted by Emperor Charles V, and the Famous Women cycle that culminates in the display of Florentine independence from imperial hegemony. Furthermore, it appears that the imagery for Eleonora had also changed. While in the first set of rooms the images focus on her fertility, the programme for the last decorative campaign features other virtues appropriate to women, virtues that are then ideally combined in the person of the duchess. Finally, in Vasari’s Vite the duchess herself becomes a living exemplum virtutis that surpasses her famous female predecessors. Eleonora, who was superior in rank to the parvenu duke she had married, developed a financial independence that allowed her to indulge in personal art patronage.68 As records show, she also influenced the arrangement of her apartment, though we do not know precisely to what extent.69 Her financial and cultural independence, however, was not autonomous, but underscored by Medicean interests. The state portraits she commissioned show her as a healthy, beautiful and fertile woman who was the mother of male heirs. Such a pattern of patronage and representation was fairly common in a woman ruler’s patronage; it changed only when princely wives became regents and found themselves obliged to represent their own authority visually. The form, function and decoration of the Quartiere di Eleonora were thus closely related to the duchess’ role at court. They reflected and reinforced the obligations specific to wives of rulers and the gender relations that were crucial for the success of contemporary politics of power. Finally, they informed a system of rule based on family alliances whereby marriage was a strategy and the bride a pledge. More than as a focus of strategic and invaluable political connections, however, Eleonora’s role at court was tied primarily to the production of 68 Baia, Leonora di Toledo, pp. 66–77; Smyth, ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage’; Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza’; Hoppe, ‘Eleonora von Toledo’; Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service.’ 69 For her influence on the decoration of the chapel, see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 156; Smyth, ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage,’ pp. 80, 82–87, 93, 96; Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service,’ pp. 235–236. For her discussions with Vasari and his concern with satisfying her demands during the renovations, see Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:644, 676.

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children. Her reproductive success would secure the dynastic succession of the Medici lineage, which in turn would further confirm Cosimo’s authority in his realm, and provide, through the marriage of their children, the promise of future and closer relations with other European rulers. The disposition of Eleonora’s rooms and the iconographies displayed in them not only reflected the gender-specific system of room allocations, but also reflected her duties as genetrix for a new branch on the dynastic tree of the house of Medici. Technische Universität Berlin, Germany I wish to thank my colleagues Michael Lailach, Angela Oberer, Xenia v. Tippelskirch, Bettina Uppenkamp and Bruce Edelstein, who discussed with me the paper I presented in Chicago and this chapter; but most of all I have to express my gratitude to Andrea Golden and Konrad Eisenbichler who proofread my work and made this contribution in English possible.

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James Grantham Turner. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Benesch, Otto. Die Zeichnungen der Niederländischen Schulen des 15. und 16. Jahrhunderts. vol. 2. Beschreibender Katalog der Handzeichnungen in der graphischen Sammlung Albertina, ed. Alfred Stix. Wien: A. Schroll, 1928. Benson, Pamela J. ‘Transformations of the “Buona Gualdrada” Legend from Boccaccio to Vasari: A Study in the Politics of Florentine Narrative,’ pp. 401–420 in Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society, ed. Letizia Panizza. Oxford: European Humanities Research Centre/Legenda, 2000. Borghini, Raffaello. Il Riposo. Florence: G. Marescotti, 1584; repr. ed. Mario Rosci. Milan: Edizioni Labor, 1967. Brown, Judith C. ‘A Woman’s Place Was in the Home: Women’s Work in Renaissance Tuscany,’ pp. 206–224 in Rewriting the Renaissance. The Discourse of Sexual Difference in Early Modern Europe, eds Margaret W. Ferguson, Maureen Quilligan and Nancy Vickers. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Bulst, Wolfger A. ‘Die ursprüngliche innere Aufteilung des Palazzo Medici in Florenz.’ Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes Florenz 14 (1969–70), pp. 369–392. Cavalca, Cecilia. ‘Un contributo alla cultura antiquaria del XVI secolo in area padana: Le immagini delle donne Auguste di Enea Vico,’ Arte Lombarda 113–115 (1995), pp. 43–52. Cheney, Iris Hofmeister. ‘Francesco Salviati (1510–1563),’ Doctoral dissertation, 4 vols, New York University, 1963. Clifford, Timothy. ‘Stradanus and the Sala di Penelope,’ The Burlington Magazine 126 (1984), p. 569. Conti, Cosimo. Ricerche storiche sull’Arte degli Arazzi in Firenze. Florence: G.C. Sansoni, 1875. Conti, Cosimo. La prima reggia di Cosimo I de’ Medici nel Palazzo già della Signoria di Firenze, descritta e illustrata coll’appoggio d’un inventario inedito del 1553 e coll’aggiunta di molti altri documenti. Florence: G. Pellas, 1893. Coreth, Anna. Pietas Austriaca. Österreichische Frömmigkeit im Barock. Wien: Verlag für Geschichte und Politik, 1982. Corti, Laura. Vasari. Catalogo completo dei dipinti. Florence: Cantini, 1989. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Bronzino’s Chapel of Eleonora di Toledo in the Palazzo Vecchio. California Studies in the History of Art, 29. Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza: Eleonora d’Aragona ed Eleonora di Toledo a confronto,’ Quaderni storici 35:2, n. 104 (2000), pp. 295– 329. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora di Toledo and Cosimo I de’ Medici: Conjugal Patronage and the Painter-Courtier,’ pp. 225–261 in Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy, eds Sheryl Reiss and David Wilkens. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 54. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘The Camera Verde: A Public Centre for the Duchess of Florence in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ in Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome (forthcoming). Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Observations on the Genesis and Function of Bronzino’s Frankfurt Modello for the Vault Decoration in the Chapel of Eleonora,’ pp. 157–163 in Coming About. A Festschrift for John Shearman, eds Lars R. Jones and Louisa C. Matthew. Cambridge: Harvard University Art Museums, 2001.

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Eichberger, Dagmar and Lisa Beaven. ‘Family Members and Political Allies: The Portrait Collection of Margaret of Austria,’ Art Bulletin 77:2 (1995), pp. 225–248. Eiche, Sabine. ‘Prologue to the Villa Imperiale Frescoes,’ Notizie da Palazzo Albani 20 (1991), pp. 99–119. Feinberg, Larry J. From Studio to Studiolo. Florentine Draftsmanship under the First Medici Grand Dukes. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1991. Ferino-Pagden, Silvia. ‘La prima donna del mondo’ Isabella d’Este, Fürstin und Mäzenatin der Renaissance. Exhibition catalogue. Vienna: Kunsthistorisches Museum/Bad Vöslau: Druckhaus Grasl, 1994. Filarete, Antonio Averlino detto il. Trattato di architettura, ed. Anna Maria Finoli, intro. and notes Liliana Grassi. 2 vols. Milan: Il Polifilo, 1972. Franceschini, Chiara. ‘Los scholares son cosa de su excelentia, como lo es toda la Compañia: Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits,’ pp. 181–206 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Franke, Birgit. Assuerus und Esther am Burgunderhof. Zur Rezeption des Buches Esther in den Niederlanden (1450 bis 1530). Berlin: Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1998. Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit. Eds Jan Hirschbiegel and Werner Paravicini. 6 Symposium der Residenzen-Kommission der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen, Dresden 26–29 September 1998. Stuttgart: J. Thorbecke Verlag, 2000. Hansmann, Martina. Andrea del Castagnos Zyklus der ‘Uomini Famosi’ und ‘Donne Famose’. Geschichtsverständnis und Tugendideal im florentinischen Frühhumanismus. Doctoral dissertation, University of Bonn, 1990; Münster and Hamburg: LIT-Verlag, 1993. Heikamp, Detlef. ‘La manufacture de tapisserie des Médicis,’ L’Oeil 164–165 (1968), pp. 22–31. Heikamp, Detlef. ‘Die Arazzeria medicea im 16. Jahrhundert,’ Münchener Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst 20 (1969), pp. 33–74. Hollstein, Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich. Dutch and Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts, ca. 1450–1700. 62 vols, ed. D. De Hoop Scheffer. Amsterdam: Menno Hertzberger, 1949/Rotterdam: Sound and Vision Publishers, 2001. Hoppe, Ilaria. ‘Eleonora von Toledo,’ pp. 227–245, 279–281 in Frauen der italienischen Renaissance. Dichterinnen, Malerinnen, Mäzeninnen, ed. Irmgard Osols-Wehden. Darmstadt: Primus Verlag, 1999. Kress, Susanne. ‘Frauenzimmer der Florentiner Renaissance und ihre Ausstattung: Eine erste “Spurensuche,”’ pp. 91–113 in Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit, ed. Jan Hirschbiegel and Werner Paravicini. Stuttgart: Thorbecke Verlag, 2000. Lefevre, Renato. ‘Madama’ Margarita d’Austria (1522–1586). Vita d’una grande dama del Cinquecento, figlia di Carlo V, sposa sfortunata di Alessandro de’ Medici. Rome: Newton Compton, 1986. Lensi, Alfredo. Palazzo Vecchio. Milan and Rome: Bestetti e Tumminelli, 1929. Liebenwein, Wolfgang. Studiolo. Die Entstehung eines Raumtyps und seine Entwicklung bis um 1600. Berlin: Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1977. Manca, Joseph. ‘Constantia et Forteza: Eleonora d’Aragona’s Famous Matrons’ Source. Notes in the History of Art 19 (2000), pp. 13–20. Mezzatesta, Michael Philipp. ‘Imperial Themes in the Sculpture of Leone Leoni’ Doctoral dissertation, 2 vols, New York University, 1980.

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Palazzo Vecchio: committenza e collezionismo medicei/Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici nell’Europa del Cinquecento, vol. 2, ed. Claudia Beltrami Ceppi. Exhibition catalogue. Florence, Palazzo Strozzi, 1980. Florence: Electa, 1980. Petrarca, Francesco. Trionfi, ed. Guido Bezzola. Milan: Rizzoli, 1984. Pieraccini, Gaetano. La stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo. Saggio di ricerche sulla trasmissione ereditaria dei caratteri biologici. 3 vols. Florence: Vallecchi, 1924– 25; repr. Florence: Nardini, 1986. A Renaissance Entertainment. Festivities for the Marriage of Cosimo I, Duke of Florence, in 1539, eds Andrew C. Minor and Bonner Mitchell. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1968. Rotondi, Pasquale. The Ducal Palace of Urbino. Its Architecture and Decoration. New York: Transatlantic Arts, 1969. Scorza, Rick A. ‘A modello by Stradanus for the “Sala di Penelope” in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ The Burlington Magazine 126 (1984), pp. 433–437. Smyth, Carolyn. ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage in the Medici Court of Sixteenth-Century Florence. The Chapel of Eleonora da Toledo in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ pp. 72–98 in Women and Art in Early Modern Europe. Patrons, Collectors and Connoisseurs, ed. Cynthia Lawrence. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997. Thiem, Gunther. ‘Studien zu Jan van der Straet, genannt Stradanus,’ Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes Florenz 8:1–4 (1957–59), pp. 88–111. Tinagli, Paola. ‘Eleonora and her “Famous Sisters.” The Tradition of “Illustrious Women” in Paintings for the Domestic Interior,’ pp. 119–135 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Vasari, Giorgio. Der literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris, ed. Karl Frey. Vols 1–2, Munich: G. Müller, 1923, 1930. Vol. 3, Burg b. M.: August Hopfer, 1940; repr. Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms Verlag, 1982. Vasari, Giorgio. Le Opere, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: G.C. Sansoni, 1906. Vasari, Giorgio. ‘Vita di Baccio Bandinelli Scultore Fiorentino,’ with ‘Commento’ and notes by Detlef Heikamp, vol. 6, pp. 9–86 in Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori, eds Paola Della Pergola, Luigi Grassi and Giovanni Previtali. Milan: Club del Libro, 1964. Veen, Henk Th. van. ‘Art and Propaganda in Late Renaissance and Baroque Florence: The Defeat of Radagasius, King of the Goths,’ Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 47 (1984), pp. 106–118. Veen, Henk Th. van. Cosimo de’ Medici. Vorst en republikein. Een studie naar het heerserimago van de eerste groothertog van Toscane (1537–1574). Amsterdam: Meulenhoff/Kritak, 1998. Viale Ferrero, Mercedes. Arazzi italiani. Milan: Electa, 1961. Watt, Mary A. ‘Veni, sponsa. Love and Politics at the Wedding of Eleonora di Toledo,’ pp. 18–39 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Welch, Evelyn Samuels. ‘Galeazzo Maria Sforza and the Castello di Pavia, 1469,’ The Art Bulletin 71 (1989), pp. 352–375. Welch, Evelyn Samuels. ‘The Image of a Fifteenth-Century Court: Secular Frescoes for the Castello di Porta Giovia, Milan,’ Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 53 (1990), pp. 163–184.

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White, Christopher and Crawley, Charlotte. The Dutch and Flemish Drawings of the Fifteenth to the Early Nineteenth Centuries in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor Castle. Cambridge, UK, and New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Wigley, Mark. ‘Untitled: The Housing of Gender,’ pp. 326–389 in Sexuality and Space, ed. Beatriz Colomina. New York, NY: Princeton Architectural Press, 1992.

Chapter 5

Eleonora and her ‘Famous Sisters.’ The Tradition of ‘Illustrious Women’ in Paintings for the Domestic Interior Paola Tinagli

The decoration of four rooms in Eleonora di Toledo’s apartment with new ceiling paintings and friezes carried out in 1561–2 was part of a long-term transformation of the old Palazzo dei Priori begun by Duke Cosimo de’ Medici and Giorgio Vasari as early as the summer of 1554. Their work sought to turn the palazzo into a reggia which, through the interior architecture and the painted decorative schemes, could reflect for Italian and foreign rulers those ideals of power and nobiltà which had begun to inspire the court life of the Medici. The message conveyed by the appearance of the entire palazzo became even more important when, in 1559, Cosimo was finally allowed to style himself ‘Duke of Florence and Siena.’1 One of Vasari and Cosimo’s priorities was to harmonize the decoration of the various parts of the building in order to create a stylistic and thematic whole, as Vasari explained in his own autobiography and in the Ragionamenti.2 While the new suite of rooms on the second storey (the Apartment of the Elements) was painted with mythological istorie derived from Boccaccio’s Genealogia deorum gentilium, a corresponding apartment on the first storey (the Apartment of Leo X) illustrated the glories of the Medici dynasty.3 In 1559, following Vasari’s suggestion, both Vincenzo Borghini (1515–80) and another advisor, probably Cosimo Bartoli (1503–72), prepared programmes for Cosimo’s bedroom. Borghini had elaborated an allegory of the actions of a just prince in peacetime and in war, with representations of exemplary 1 See Vasari, Le opere, 7:697–698, 699–700 and 8:14–18. The significance of the decoration of the Apartments of the Elements and of Leo X, and of Vasari’s Ragionamenti in the context of Cosimo’s political ambition is discussed in Tinagli, ‘Claiming a Place in History,’ pp. 63–64, with bibliography. 2 Vasari, Le opere, 7:698 and 8:16. 3 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 59–182.

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characters such as Solomon, Charlemagne, Caesar or Scipio and David. The other proposal also dealt with princely virtues, explained by a series of inscriptions and personified by Solomon, Solon or Licurgus, Tarquin, Alexander the Great, Titus Quintius, Caesar, Janus, Scipio and Quintus Metellus.4 In this newly fashioned building fit for a prince, grottesche were used for staircases, passages and small private stanzini, while the principal suites of rooms were decorated with istorie. Just after the ducal family had moved into the Palazzo della Signoria in May 1540, Battista del Tasso (1500–55) had created a suite of five rooms for the duchess and her maids of honour in the rooms on the second floor (third floor, in North America) that had been originally the living quarters of the Priori.5 In a letter of 15 January 1560/61, Vasari explained to the duke that the new, much richer decorative scheme for Eleonora’s apartment would have a large painting at the centre of the ceiling of each room, with a painted frieze under the ceiling, ‘as the ones in the new rooms.’6 On 28 January he proposed as subject matter for the decoration ‘stories of those royal women who, with their actions, have equalled, in fact surpassed, the virtues of men,’ asking, however, for Cosimo’s opinion and guidance.7 Narratives illustrating episodes from the lives of ‘famous women’ – the Sabines, Queen Esther, Penelope and the Florentine heroine Gualdrada – followed logically from the ‘illustrious men’ of Antiquity and of the Old Testament chosen for the decoration of Cosimo’s bed chamber. His apartment was situated directly below Eleonora’s rooms and was joined to it by a spiral staircase.8 Having received ducal approval for the new scheme, by 3 February Vasari was already at work on the drawings.9 The work was carried 4 Vasari, Zibaldone, pp. 11–15; Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:524–525 and 526–528, letters from Vasari to Vincenzo Borghini, 13 December 1559, and from Borghini to Vasari, 14 December 1559. 5 See Edelstein, ‘The Early Patronage of Eleonora di Toledo.’ 6 ‘Come stanno quelli delle stanze nuove.’ Vasari, Le opere, 8:339–340. 7 ‘Storie di quelle donne regie che hanno con i loro fatti paragonato la virtù degli omini, anzi vintogli,’ Vasari, Le opere, 8:343. It is probable that the idea for the subject matter came from Vasari himself, rather than from his advisors, since he had, after all, suggested to Bartoli and to Borghini the theme for Cosimo’s bedroom. 8 Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 187–188. 9 Vasari, Le opere, 8:344. For the first reference to the specific subject of Eleonora’s apartment, see Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:637, for his letter of 15 November 1561, where he mentions two rooms with stories from Ersilia and Gualdrada, adding that the scheme for both these rooms comprises sixteen oil paintings and a frieze. Eleonora’s role in the choice of the specific subject matter for her rooms needs to be clarified. She was certainly consulted at length while the work was carried out. See the letters from Vasari to Borghini, 21 November 1561, and again, 9 May 1562, in Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:644 and 676. On this matter, see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 308, and p. 319, nos 96 and 97, and, more recently, Edelstein, ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora di

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out between 1561 and 1562 by Vasari and his assistant, Giovanni Stradano (1523–1605),10 who, after Eleonora’s death in 1562, completed the decorative scheme with cartoons for tapestries.11 Was the subject matter for Eleonora’s apartment chosen with precise meanings in mind that could be referred to specific events related to the duke and duchess? Borghini’s letter to Vasari of 14 December 1559 outlining the programme for Cosimo’s bedroom, which has already been mentioned, seems to indicate that these programmes were prepared in a more haphazard fashion than many scholars have hitherto believed. In fact, after setting out at length characters and allegorical figures, Borghini added: ‘some of those names I have chosen could be changed according to different whims and tastes, but if I had to do so, I would always want that the duke, for whose satisfaction they primarily have to be done, found them to his liking.’12 In his autobiography, Vasari wrote very briefly about the paintings for Eleonora’s apartment, adding that he would explain everything at length in the Ragionamenti. In that text, Vasari, with Bartoli’s help, had elaborated complex post factum Medicean interpretations for every single element of the decoration in the Apartment of the Elements. Vasari, however, did not go back to revise his unfinished Ragionamenti, so the book was published in 1588 by his nephew without the promised section on Eleonora’s rooms. If it had been completed as planned, it is certain that we would have been able to read yet another virtuoso construction of Medicean meanings hidden behind every ceiling narrative and every small story painted in the friezes.13 Toledo,’ esp. p. 234. On Eleonora’s patronage, see also Smyth, ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage in the Medici Court,’ and Hoppe, ‘Eleonora de Toledo.’ On the extant drawings for the Eleonora Apartment, see Scorza, ‘A modello by Stradanus’; Clifford, ‘Stradanus and the Sala di Penelope,’ and Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 197. 10 See Vasari’s ‘Ricordanze’ in Der literarische Nachlass, 2:876; Lensi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 188–192; Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 195–212, and Hoppe, ‘A Duchess’ Place at Court.’ 11 Vasari, Le opere, 7:617. From 1565 these rooms, ‘dove abita la Principessa, che sono quattro, dedicate alle virtù delle donne, con istorie di Romane, Ebree, Greche e Toscane, cioè le Sabine, Ester, Penelope e Gualdrada’ were used by Francesco’s wife, Joanna of Austria, before her move to Palazzo Pitti. Vasari also mentions Stradano’s cartoons for tapestries for the rooms of Saturn, Ops, Ceres, Jupiter and Hercules in the Apartment of the Elements and for the five rooms of Cosimo’s apartment ‘dedicate a David, Salamone, Ciro, ed altri.’ The commission of these cycles of tapestries is another example of the duke’s desire to coordinate (accordare) the decoration of the various apartments in the palazzo. 12 ‘Potrebbesi anche scambiar’ qualcuno di que’ nomi che io ho messi, secondo che le fantasie e i gusti sono diversi, benche s’io havessi a far, io vorrei sempre, che il Duca, a saddisfatione del quale s’hanno a far principalmente, ci havessi la saddisfattione del gusto suo.’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:528. 13 On the question of meaning, see Tinagli, ‘Claiming a Place in History,’ pp. 65–71.

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At the ducal court, the role of ‘famous women’ as exempla had recently been made topical by a letterato from Pistoia, Domenico Bruni (flourished 1540s–50s), whose Difese delle donne had been published in Florence in 1552 with a dedication to Eleonora. Besides citing the exemplary actions of Judith, of the Queens of the Amazons, of Camilla and Tomyris, Bruni also celebrated the duchess herself as a donna illustre, offering her as a contemporary exemplum of a long list of virtues appropriate to the wife of a ruler, from prudence to wisdom, from fecundity to piety. He also praised the sharpness of her intellect and her interest in the ‘virtuous, noble and high matters’ related to the government of the state.14 Bruni’s work was by no means unique in drawing flattering comparisons between a contemporary aristocratic woman and heroines of the past. These eulogistic writings drew on a rich literary tradition derived from the writings of Plutarch, Livy, Valerius Maximus, Petrarch and Boccaccio, and had their foundations in the concept of history as magistra vitae.15 Some writers, such as Antonio Cornazzano with his De mulieribus admirandis, written probably c. 1466–68 and dedicated to Bianca Maria Visconti, and his Del modo di regere e di regnare, written c. 1478–79 and dedicated to Eleonora d’Aragona, or Domenico Bruni in his work mentioned above, directly praised contemporary famous women either in the dedications of their works or in a celebration of their virtues through explicit comparisons with what were, already in the fifteenth century, canonical exemplars.16 Others, such as Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti in his Gynevera de le clare donne, written in 1483 and dedicated to Ginevra Sforza 14 ‘Si conosce manifestissimamente detta Illustrissima Signora sopr’avanza tutte le antiche e moderne, in tutte le più pregiate virtuti d’animo, nella accortezza della mente, nella sottigliezza dell’ingegno, nella considerata elevatione di mente, nel prudente governo, nelle savie deliberazioni, nel prudente consiglio, nelle buone e preste resoluzioni, nella fecondità della Illustrissima et Eccellentissima prole, nella buona et perfetta educatione de figliuoli, et di tutte le sue matrone et donzelle, nel modesto habito, et ornato di quelle, nella magnanimità, cortesia, gentilezza, liberalità, religione, pietà, et misericordia verso i religiosi, et universalmente verso tutti i suoi sudditi, nel dilettarsi di cose virtuose, nobili, et alte, come di conservatione et augmento di stati, di governi, di Republiche, di guerre, di astutie militari, di marittime navigationi, di influssi celesti, e d’ogni altro discorso, che per naturale istinto si possa comprendere.’ Bruni, Difese delle donne, f. 20v (1559 ed.). For famous women of Antiquity and of the Old Testament, whom Bruni does not, however, specifically connect to Eleonora, see ff. 32v–34v. On the virtues represented in Eleonora’s chapel in Palazzo della Signoria and on the possible references to the duchess, see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza,’ p. 301. 15 See Hazard, ‘Renaissance Aesthetic Values.’ On examples specifically addressed to women, see Benson, The Invention of the Renaissance Woman, pp. 9–31, and Ajmar, ‘Exemplary women in Renaissance Italy.’ 16 In both his treatises, Cornazzano praises the virtues of those women who showed their strength during their regency. See Fahy, ‘The De mulieribus admirandis of Antonio Cornazzano,’ and Zancani, ‘Writing for Women Rulers.’

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Bentivoglio, or Giuseppe Betussi in his translation of Giovanni Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus published in 1545, celebrated famous contemporary women by including their biographies together with those of exemplary women from Antiquity or from the Old Testament, thereby inviting readers to draw their own comparisons.17 Rulers’ wives – such as Battista Montefeltro Malatesta, Paola Malatesta Gonzaga, Ginevra Sforza Bentivoglio, Battista Sforza, Isabella di Chiaramonte and Eleonora d’Aragona – were praised for virtues such as Fortitude, Justice, Prudence, Courage, Wisdom, Clemency, Magnanimity, Generosity of patronage – virtues which were fitting to any ruler – and also for more traditionally feminine qualities such as Pity, Patience, Charity, Beauty, Chastity, Modesty and Fecundity.18 Exempla of feminine virtues were by no means addressed only to court ladies, but suitable models were used to instruct and inspire women belonging to different ranks of society. This is clear from sources as varied as, for instance, St Bernardino’s sermons of 1427 delivered on the Piazza del Campo in Siena, St Antoninus’s 1440 Regola di Vita Cristiana, Galeazzo Flavio Capra’s Della Eccellenza e Dignità delle Donne published in 1525 and Ortensio Lando’s 1548 collection of Lettere di molte valorose donne. All of these works stressed virtues to which women could aspire in their day-to-day family life.19 The flourishing literary tradition of exempla had its counterpart in an equally thriving visual one. In his De Nobilitate of 1440, Poggio Bracciolini had indicated the importance of images in inspiring the viewer towards virtue, writing that ‘illustrious men of old … adorned their libraries and

17 Sabadino degli Arienti sent a copy of his Gynevera de le clare donne to Isabella d’Este who, on 3 July 1492, wrote to him indicating that she appreciated the ‘noble subject matter’ and that she would strive to imitate the example of the famous women whose biographies he had written. See Iotti, ‘Phenice unica, virtuosa e pia,’ p. 116. 18 A book dedicated to Elisabetta Gonzaga, the Libretto apologetico delle donne, probably written in 1504 by Bernardino Cacciante, lists a number of virtues, some of which are appropriate to all women and some only to wives of rulers, and offers a series of ‘famous women’ as examples for each virtue. See Martini, Bernardino Cacciante Alarinate. 19 The virtuous behaviour expected of women of the republican elite of Florence is set out in Vespasiano da Bisticci’s Il libro della lode e commendazione delle donne, written c. 1480. As Benson remarks, the courage and skill shown by Francesca Acciaiuoli in saving her husband’s property are seen as part of her domestic role. See Benson, The Invention of the Renaissance Woman, p. 38. On the difference between the virtues which should inspire courtly women and those suited to others, see Collina, ‘L’esemplarità delle donne illustri,’ pp. 103–105. Examining Torquato Tasso’s Discorso della virtù femminile e donnesca of 1582, Collina discusses the two different traditions stemming from Aristotle and from Plato that emphasize the two strands of virtues indicated in the title, the ‘virtù femminile’ concerning ‘una cittadina, o una gentildonna privata’ and the ‘virtù donnesca’ which is appropriate to the wife or daughter of a ruler (p. 107).

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gardens with art … For they believed that the images of men who had excelled in the pursuit of glory and wisdom, placed before their eyes, would help ennoble and stir up the soul.’20 In 1555, Giovanni Michele Bruto’s Institutione di una fanciulla nata nobilmente asserted the importance of exemplary paintings as well as written texts in the education of a young girl.21 Bruto’s reference to the didactic and exemplary function of images brings to mind the istorie painted on the front of cassoni or on spalliere that furnished the bedrooms of wealthy and not so wealthy married couples during the previous century.22 Exemplary images painted in rulers’ palaces, however, had another function. As Vasari explained at length in the Ragionamenti during his discussion of the frescoes in the Apartment of the Elements, besides being used as exempla, narratives illustrating the deeds of famous men and women could also be ‘mirrors’ reflecting back to princes their own virtues. Most importantly, they could portray the rulers’ virtues to those who were given access to see these paintings. They could therefore be used as a means to eulogize the rulers themselves by drawing parallels between their virtues and actions and those of the ‘illustrious men.’23 What Vasari wrote for the Apartment of the Elements can, of course, also apply to the ‘famous women’ cycle painted for Eleonora.24 I would now like to examine some examples of representations of ‘famous women’ in order to illustrate how the meanings connoted by these images were much more ambiguous than those conveyed by the written works discussed above. The same subject matter could in fact be understood to carry a different message depending on the location and the function of the room where such a work was seen. Surprisingly enough, the first images of ‘famous women’ appear in male company. It seems that they were first seen on the walls of a ruler’s palace well before Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus was written. In a cycle commissioned by Robert of Anjou, King of Naples, from Giotto, perhaps in 1328–33, for the Sala Grande of Castel Nuovo, nine heroes from Antiquity and from the Old Testament were represented with their female companions: Alexan20 See Zaccaria, ‘La fortuna del De mulieribus claris del Boccaccio nel secolo XV,’ and Joost-Gaugier, ‘Poggio and Visual Tradition.’ 21 Quoted in Ajmar, ‘Exemplary women in Renaissance Italy,’ pp. 247–248. 22 See Tinagli, Women in Italian Renaissance Art, pp. 21–46, with bibliography. See also Baskins, Cassone Painting and Hughes, Renaissance Cassoni. 23 Vasari, Le opere, 8:79–80. 24 On Eleonora’s noble virtues, exercised during her times as a regent, see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza,’ p. 301; on the regency of the duchess, see p. 307 and p. 318, nos 90 and 91.

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der, Solomon, Hector, Aeneas, Achilles, Paris, Hercules, Samson and Caesar were painted together with Roxana, the Queen of Sheba, the Trojan princess Polixena, Dido, Pentesilea Queen of the Amazons, Helen, Deianira, Delilah and Cleopatra. It is tempting to see a link between the female presence in the decorative scheme and events concerning an important woman at the Neapolitan court: in 1330, in the Sala Grande, the king made the solemn announcement that his granddaughter Giovanna would succeed him on the throne of Naples and then, in 1333, announced that she would marry Andrea of Hungary.25 The cycle, which had been described in a series of sonnets by an anonymous writer, was destroyed in the mid-fifteenth century under the reign of Alfonso of Aragon during the work for the enlargement of the Sala. What was probably the first cycle of paintings in a room dedicated exclusively to a ‘famous woman’ is equally elusive. The Sala di Lucrezia, first mentioned in 1382, was part of a series of rooms decorated with frescoes commissioned in the late 1360s by the Lord of Padua, Francesco il Vecchio da Carrara, for his palace, the Reggia. There were chambers dedicated to Hercules, Camillus and Nero, as well as a Theban room and a Sala Virorum Illustrium, the latter a subject which was certainly connected with the presence of Francesco Petrarca at the Carrara court.26 All these frescoes, with their reference to antique virtues, would have been a splendid celebratory setting for the Carrara family in what was ultimately an unsuccessful attempt to remain in power.27 In the wake of the fall of Padua to the Venetians (1405), the palace suffered large-scale destruction and alterations; the Sala di Lucrezia was further damaged during the eighteenth century; as a result, the paintings are no longer extant. The Sala di Lucrezia was situated on the ground floor of the palace and opened under the portico surrounding the central courtyard of the Reggia. The subject matter would seem to indicate that this chamber was part of the women’s quarters, inspiring them to follow this heroine’s dedication to Chastity, but in fact the room was part of the official apartment of Francesco il Vecchio and, after his death, of his son Francesco Novello, and probably served as an audience chamber.28 The exemplary meaning of the 25

See Joost-Gaugier, ‘A Giotto’s Hero Cycle in Naples,’ p. 317. In 1373 Petrarch dedicated his De viris Illustribus to Francesco il Vecchio. 27 Giovanni Lorenzoni suggests that virtus was the theme of the decoration of this series of rooms; Lorenzoni, ‘La Reggia e il Castello,’ pp. 41–45. 28 For documents related to the location and function of the Sala di Lucrezia, see the conclusions reached by Gasparotto, ‘La Reggia dei da Carrara,’ p. 102, p. 114 and n. 139, and ‘Gli ultimi affreschi,’ pp. 252–253. For the location of the women’s rooms in the palace, see Lorenzoni, ‘La Reggia e il Castello,’ p. 29, and Kohl, Padua under the Carrara, p. 133. Kohl (p. 152) mentions that Fina Buzzacarini, wife of Francesco il Vecchio, entertained her court in a chamber decorated with personifications of Justice, Wisdom, Temperance and Courage. 26

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story of this ‘famous woman,’ which would seem to address a female audience with its stern lesson on the importance of Chastity, could in fact also be applied to male behaviour, since it highlighted the importance of restraint and continence in the life of those who exercised power. Furthermore, it appears that this story could be used in a religious as well as a secular context: six scenes from the story of Lucretia were commissioned by Cardinal Giovanni Vitelleschi in the late 1430s for the side walls of the ante-chapel of his palace at Corneto Tarquinia. Here, the narratives were accompanied by allegorical representations of the four cardinal virtues.29 Three small panels by Ercole de’ Roberti, representing Portia and Brutus (Kimbell Art Museum, Forth Worth, Texas), The Wife of Hasdrubal and her Children (National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC), and Lucretia with her husband Collatinus and Junius Brutus (Galleria Estense, Modena) bring us to an environment particularly sensitive to the importance of a powerful woman’s position, the court of the duke and duchess of Ferrara, Ercole I d’Este and Eleonora of Aragon. As the daughter of the king of Naples, Eleonora not only outranked her husband, but also played, at various times, an important part in the government of the state.30 Her life was commemorated posthumously by Iacopo Filippo Foresti in his De plurimis claris selectisque mulieribus, published in Ferrara in 1497. In his treatise De laudibus mulierium, composed in the late 1480s and dedicated to Eleonora, Bartolomeo Goggio argues that women are superior to men; he then presents Lucretia and Portia as exempla of Constancy, understood as ‘steadfastness of the soul,’ and Fortitude, understood as both strength of the soul and physical strength, two virtues considered to be crucial for a woman who held the role of regent.31 Because of these circumstances, Joseph Manca has suggested that the three panels by Ercole de’ Roberti were probably painted for Eleonora, perhaps for one of the smaller rooms in the Castel Vecchio in Ferrara, which the artist was decorating for the duchess.32 We do not know who provided the painter

29 See Bertini Calosso, ‘Le origini della pittura del Quattrocento,’ p. 197. For the ‘male’ aspects of the Lucretia story in the context of fifteenth-century Florence, see Tinagli, Women in Italian Renaissance Art, pp. 41–42, with bibliography. On this aspect of methodology, see Baskins, Cassone Painting and Janson-La Palme’s review of Baskins in his ‘Painting and Sculpture,’ pp. 576–579. 30 See Gundersheimer, ‘Women, Learning and Power,’ p. 51; Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza,’ p. 300; Gardner, Dukes and Poets in Ferrara,’ pp. 189–197. 31 On Goggio, see Gundersheimer, ‘Bartolomeo Goggio.’ 32 See Manca, The Art of Ercole de’ Roberti, p. 60; Manca, ‘Constantia et Forteza,’ p. 17; Molteni, Ercole de’ Roberti, pp. 176–178; Wilkins Sullivan, ‘Three Ferrarese Panels,’ pp. 612– 616; Syson, ‘Ercole de’ Roberti,’ pp. xiii and xxxii–xxxv; Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne Napoletane e Committenza,’ pp. 300–301 and p. 315, n. 48.

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with the programme for these panels, but all three heroines are exempla cited in one of the most popular texts of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Valerius Maximus’ Memorable Acts and Sayings of the Ancient Romans.33 In the case of this commission, the virtues exemplified by these women – Chastity, Conjugal Love and Fortitude – do not represent female virtues to be exercised within the confines of the home: their deeds had consequences on the political stage and were therefore appropriate for the wife of a ruler. Portia showed her husband Brutus that she was able to withstand physical pain and, therefore, that she could be trusted with the knowledge of his plot against Caesar; the wife of Hasdrubal, the Carthagenian general who had surrendered to the Romans, threw herself and her children into the burning ruins of Carthage rather than follow what her husband had done, thus showing that in defeat she was braver than he was; Lucretia’s suicide after she had been raped by Tarquin led to the Romans’ rebellion against the Tarquins and the creation of the Republic. Similarly, because a ruler’s wife lived her life on the public stage of the court, her virtues, like her husband’s, guided the way in which she conducted herself as a public figure. Appropriately, it is qualities such as her prudence and mental ability that Foresti celebrates in his biography of Eleonora.34 It was in Siena, however, during a fluid and unstable period of its history, that the theme of ‘famous women’ became particularly fashionable among the families of the elite engaged in a struggle for supremacy.35 It cannot be mere chance that the largest number of surviving representations of this subject come from this city and date from the last decades of the fifteenth century and the first two of the sixteenth.36 33 Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac dictorum memorabilium libri IX. For Portia and Brutus see Book 3, Chapter 2, ‘Of Fortitude’ and Chapter 6, ‘Of Conjugal Love’; for the wife of Hasdrubal see Book 3, Chapter 2, ‘Of Fortitude’; for Lucretia, see Book 6, Chapter 1, ‘Of Chastity.’ 34 On Eleonora d’Aragona’s hand in affairs of state, see Zambotti, ‘Diario Ferrarese,’ pp. 5, 57, 118. See also Chiappini, Gli Estensi, p. 183. 35 The struggle for power lasted till 1530, when the control of the city passed into the hands of Emperor Charles V. For the political situation in Siena in this period, see Strehlke, ‘Art and Culture in Renaissance Siena’; Buonsignori, Storia della Repubblica di Siena, pp. 127–167. 36 Among the ‘famous women’ painted by various artists for Sienese patrons and not mentioned in this text are Judith, Sofonisba, Cleopatra, Tuccia, Portia, Claudia Quinta, Clelia, Virginia and Artemisia. For the many examples of ‘famous women’ cycles painted for wealthy Sienese families during this period, see Strehlke, ‘Art and Culture in Renaissance Siena’; Beccafumi, passim; and Da Sodoma a Marco Pino, passim. For a series painted for the double wedding of the brothers Antonio and Giulio Spannocchi in 1493 see Tatrai, ‘Il Maestro della Storia di Griselda.’

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One of the ways in which the ‘famous women’ were represented was as an ensemble of three panels painted with standing female figures and linked together by a frame. Their dimensions indicate that such panels were used as spalliere behind a chest or a lettuccio. It has been suggested that they would have been commissioned for a marriage and placed in the couple’s bedroom.37 The three heroines Cornelia (Galleria Doria Pamphili, Rome), Marcia and Tanaquil (National Gallery, London), painted by Domenico Beccafumi between 1519 and 1525 for the bedroom of Francesco Petrucci, Lord of Siena from 1521 to 1523, and of his wife Caterina Piccolomini del Mandolo, would have been framed together in a similar way.38 The furnishings for the bedroom comprised a painted bed, a chest, spalliere and a lettuccio. The ideals conveyed by the behaviour of these ‘famous women’ refer to their virtues as wives and mothers: Cornelia was the example of a perfect mother who used her learning to educate her sons; Marcia was the perfect spouse, praised for her fertility; the Etruscan Tanaquil was skilful in the art of prediction and an example of virtuous matron. These exempla for the Petrucci bedroom would seem to point to virtues and behaviour concerning private life, the home, marriage, fertility and the education of children. However, in the fight for political power in Siena during the first half of the sixteenth century, private virtues could not be separated from public life. Similarly, the virtues represented by these three women reflected on the public life of their husbands and sons (and, in Tanaquil’s case, were decisive in acquiring the throne for her husband). Furthermore, in the struggle for self-affirmation that engaged the most powerful families in Siena, this commission indicates how the 37 The only triptych to have survived with its original frame shows Hippo, Camilla and Lucretia (Collezione Chigi Zondadori, Siena). It has been attributed to Guidoccio Cozzarelli for an unidentified Sienese patron; see Da Sodoma a Marco Pino, p. 83. 38 See Dunkerton et al., Dürer to Veronese, pp. 134–135; Beccafumi, pp. 95–97. The Martia and the Tanaquil panels measure 92.1 × 53.3 cm., the Cornelia panel 91 × 53 cm. Inscriptions identify the figures: ‘Eloquio natos … Cornelia Graccos / qui poenos domnit Scipio me genuit’ (I, Cornelia, educated my sons the Gracchi with words. Scipio, who tamed the Carthagenians, begat me); ‘Me Cato cognovit vir mox Hortensius alter / deinde Catonis ego Martia nupta fuit’ (Cato was united in marriage with me, then Hortensius in a second marriage, then I, Martia, wed Cato again); ‘Sum Tanaquil binos feci que provida reges / prima virum servum / (F)oemina (de i)nde m(e)um.’ (I am Tanaquil who, gifted with the spirit of prophecy, created two kings, first my husband, then my slave). The literary sources are discussed by Torriti in Beccafumi, p. 95. The furnishings for this room also comprised a lettiera with a headboard painted with a Venus (57 × 126 cm., Barber Institute, Birmingham, UK) and two panels representing The Cult of Vesta and The Lupercalia (67 × 125 cm., Collezione Martelli, Florence). The ensemble was dismembered in 1527 when Francesco Petrucci, who had not yet paid Beccafumi 68 ducats out of the 175 for the commission, and who by then had been expelled from Siena, sold it to his cousin Scipione di Girolamo Petrucci.

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patron sought to demonstrate on the one hand his humanistic learning and interests by choosing such a subject matter and on the other the quality of his taste by commissioning a painter such as Beccafumi, the most successful artist in contemporary Siena. The Petrucci family had been involved for decades in a struggle to maintain its power base within Siena through a system of alliances with Florence, the Papacy and whoever else could be persuaded to join them. In fact, the political situation in which the Petruccis temporarily flourished, and the way they used art patronage, makes an interesting comparison with Duke Cosimo’s circumstances in Florence, even if the conclusion of the Petruccis’ bid for power was drastically different. Francesco’s uncle, Pandolfo Petrucci (called ‘il Magnifico’), was de facto lord of Siena from 1498 until his death in 1512. In 1506 Pietro Rangoni dedicated to Pandolfo his translation of Pliny’s Gli uomini illustri, describing him in the text as a ‘uomo illustre.’ Pandolfo tried to strengthen his power and create a ruling dynasty by seeking (unsuccessfully) a hereditary title from Emperor Maximilian I and by tying his family, through a series of marriages, to the most important and established Sienese casati, such as the Piccolomini and the Chigi. Together with his brother Giacomo, Pandolfo understood very well the power of artistic patronage and its function in supporting a position of power by projecting an image of culture, taste and wealth.39 The two most important artists in Siena, Pinturicchio and Signorelli, together with Girolamo Genga, worked in 1509 on the decoration of the main sala of Pandolfo’s new palazzo near the cathedral, a palazzo that had semi-official functions. The frescoes on the walls were large complex narratives, rather than the more restrained standing figures we have seen up till now.40 No scholar has yet attempted to propose a precise, coherent programme, but the stories do point to the usual references to male restraint and continence and to female chastity. In these stories women play very important parts, even if the paintings do not belong to the ‘famous women’ series: in the foreground of Signorelli’s Triumph of Chastity (National Gallery, London), derived from Petrarch’s Trionfi, Petrarch’s Laura is tying up Cupid while Lucretia and Penelope are pulling feathers off his wings and 39

See Clough, ‘Pandolfo Petrucci e il concetto di “magnificenza.”’ The stories represented were Coriolanus persuaded to spare Rome, the continence of Scipio, Aeneas fleeing from Troy and the return of Ulysses, together with the calumny of Apelles, the feast of Pan, the triumph of Chastity. On the decoration, see Tatrai, ‘Gli affreschi di Palazzo Petrucci a Siena.’ For a description of the sala, see Davies, National Gallery Catalogues: the Earlier Italian Schools, pp. 571–572, and Dunkerton et al., Giotto to Dürer, pp. 86–89. Cecil Clough has suggested that the programme could have been written by Antonio Venafro, Pandolfo Petrucci’s secretary; see his ‘Pandolfo Petrucci and the Concept of “Magnificenza”,’ p. 393. 40

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breaking his arrows. In Coriolanus Persuaded to Spare Rome (National Gallery, London), his wife Virgilia and his mother Volumnia are again placed in the foreground and occupy half of the picture plane. In The Return of Ulysses (National Gallery, London), attributed to Pinturicchio, Penelope sits at the loom, isolated in a prominent position on the left of the picture plane, while Ulysses, disguised as a beggar, is relegated to the middle ground. In the background, seen through a window, the story of Ulysses and the sirens and the story of Circe both display the Petrucci coat of arms and refer to Ulysses’s role in the narrative.41 These exemplars – both ‘illustrious men’ and ‘famous women,’ either as standing figures or as narratives – were the carriers of ‘elastic’ multiple meanings. In some cases, contrasting interpretations of the same character could be given.42 In his 1545 translation of Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus, Giuseppe Betussi, for instance, presents Dido as an exemplum of chastity and constancy, who commits suicide rather than betray the memory of her dead husband, while in his Il Raverta of 1544, he describes her as a totally irrational woman, obsessed by her passion for Aeneas. As we see, such exemplars could be associated with a variety of events and embrace references to people of diverse rank or to different political systems. Among the ‘illustrious men,’ Camillus could be an exemplum for the Carrara lord of Padua, but he was also used in the Palazzo dei Priori in Florence to embody republican values in Domenico Ghirlandaio’s decoration of the Sala dei Gigli (1482), or allude to Duke Cosimo’s courage and glory in the 1543 ducal commission to Francesco Salviati for the Sala dell’Udienza. Among the ‘famous women,’ Lucretia was deemed an exemplum suitable for the Carrara palace in Padua and for Cardinal Vitelleschi’s ante-chapel in Corneto Tarquinia, as well as for the duchess of Ferrara and for women belonging to the Sienese elite. In the mid-fifteenth century Esther had been described by Saint Antoninus, archbishop of Florence, as an exemplum to be followed by the daughters of the Florentine elite and, not surprisingly, her story was chosen to decorate many wedding chests; but she could also be an exemplum of a dutiful wife to a powerful king, or of an advocate of justice, two roles which are appropriate in the context of the Eleonora rooms, where she appears in the mid-sixteenth century. In a religious setting, such as in the refectory of the Badia of Saints Flora and Lucilla in Arezzo, for which Vasari painted The 41 In Giovanni Battista Modio’s Il Convito, a humorous debate on cuckoldry, Ulysses and Penelope are described as a model couple, not only loving in each other’s presence, but also faithful when apart. 42 See Ajmar, ‘Exemplary Women in Renaissance Italy,’ who cites the example of multiple and contrasting meanings for Cornelia, pp. 249–253; see also pp. 245–246.

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Banquet of Esther and Ahasuerus (Museo Statale di Arte Medievale e Moderna, Arezzo) in 1548, Esther, who delivered her people from peril, could represent the Church itself, or she could be seen as a Marian antetype, since she interceded with Ahasuerus for the safety of her people.43 The story of the rape of the Sabine women could not only be interpreted in different ways, but it could be applied to men as well as to women. The representation of this story on fifteenth-century wedding chests very probably refers to marriage alliances between families. It had specific resonance in Florence because Leonardo Bruni in his panegyric to the city of Florence had written that the Florentines descended from the ‘race of Romulus.’ In fact, this story appears in a small ovato in the Sala delle Udienze in the Palazzo della Signoria, since, according to the interpretation given by both Livy and Plutarch, Camillus was the second founder of Rome.44 It is also represented on one of a pair of carved cassoni attributed to Bartolomeo Neroni, probably dating from the early 1560s. The Capricorn, the astrological ascendant of Duke Cosimo, suggests that they are a Medici commission.45 Plutarch’s comment that ‘the Romans did not commit this rape wantonly, but with a design purely of forming alliance with their neighbours by the greatest and surest bonds’ would suit a Medicean interpretation according to which the story of the Sabine women is an allegory of Cosimo’s role as a peacemaker after his victory over Siena. Rather than trying to find precise references and topical meanings for the paintings in Eleonora’s rooms, we should instead keep in mind the possibility offered both by the textual and visual traditions of ‘famous women’ and by the precedents in the decoration of the Palazzo della Signoria for the development of a variety of meanings.46 The elastic meanings of the exemplary figures represented in these rooms would have been, without doubt, adapted by commentators guiding important visitors through these rooms and would have been stretched to cover every aspect of Eleonora’s character and every event of her life with Cosimo and their children. With this cycle, the duchess herself took her place among the heroines of the past. Echoing what Domenico Bruni had written in 1552, Vasari, in his 1568 edition of the Lives, described Eleonora as ‘a most rare lady, and of such great and incomparable virtue, that she may be likened without any 43

See Baskins, ‘Typology, Sexuality and the Renaissance Esther.’ On the Sabine women, see Baskins, Cassone Painting, pp. 103–120. 45 See von Henneberg, ‘Two Renaissance Cassoni.’ 46 On the important aspect of meaning and intention in the programme of Eleonora’s apartment, see the conclusions reached by Benson, ‘Transformation of the “Buona Gualdrada” Legend,’ pp. 413–414, and Ziegler, ‘Penelope and the Politics of Woman’s Place.’ See also Benson, ‘Gualdrada’s Two Bodies,’ pp. 14–15. 44

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argument to the most famous women of Antiquity, and perhaps be preferred before them.’47 University of Edinburgh Edinburgh, UK I would like to thank the British Academy and the Faculty of Arts, University of Edinburgh, for their financial assistance which enabled me to present a version of this chapter at the Renaissance Society of America Conference in Chicago, 2001. I am very grateful to Gabrielle Langdon for her helpful suggestions and support.

Cited Works Ajmar, Marta. ‘Exemplary Women in Renaissance Italy: Ambivalent Models of Behaviour?’ pp. 244–264 in Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society, ed. Letizia Panizza. Oxford: European Humanities Research Centre, 2000. Allegri, Ettore and Alessandro Cecchi. Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici: guida storica. Florence: SPES, 1980. Baskins, Cristelle L. ‘Typology, Sexuality and the Renaissance Esther,’ pp. 31–54 in Sexuality and Gender in Early Modern Europe, ed. G. Turner. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Baskins, Cristelle L. Cassone Painting. Humanism and Gender in Early Modern Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Beccafumi, ed. Pietro Torriti. Milan: Electa, 1998. Benson, Pamela J. The Invention of the Renaissance Woman. The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and Thought of Italy and England. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992. Benson, Pamela J. ‘Transformation of the “Buona Gualdrada” Legend from Boccaccio to Vasari: A Study in the Politics of Florentine Narrative,’ pp. 401–420 in Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society, ed. Letizia Panizza. Oxford: European Humanities Research Centre, 2000. Benson, Pamela J. ‘Gualdrada’s Two Bodies: Female and Civic Virtue in Medieval Florence,’ pp. 1–15 in The Body and Soul in Medieval Literature, eds Piero Boitani and Anna Torti. Rochester, NY: D.S. Brewer, 1999. Bertini Calosso, Achille. ‘Le origini della pittura del Quattrocento attorno a Roma,’ Bollettino d’Arte 14 (1920), pp. 97–114 and pp. 187–232. Bruni, Domenico. Opera di M. Domenico Bruni da Pistoia, intitolata Difese delle Donne, nella quale si contengono le difese loro, dalle calunnie datele per gli 47 ‘Donna nel vero rarissima e di così grande e incomparabile valore, che può a qual sia più celebre e famosa nell’antiche storie senza contrasto agguagliarsi, e per avventura preporsi.’ Vasari, ‘Life of Bastiano da Sangallo,’ Le opere, 6:441.

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scrittori, e insieme le lodi di quelle. Nuovamente posta in luce. Milan: Giovanni Antonio degli Antonii, 1559. Buonsignori, Vincenzo. Storia della Repubblica di Siena. Siena, 1856. Chiappini, Luciano. Gli Estensi. Milan: dall’Oglio, 1967. Clifford, Timothy. ‘Stradanus and the Sala di Penelope’ Burlington Magazine, 126 (1984), p. 569. Clough, Cecil H. ‘Pandolfo Petrucci e il concetto di “magnificenza,”’ pp. 383–397 in Arte, committenza ed economia a Roma e nelle Corti del Rinascimento, 1420– 1530, eds Arnold Esch and C.L. Frommel. Torino: Einaudi, 1995. Collina, Beatrice. ‘L’esemplarità delle donne illustri fra Umanesimo e Controriforma,’ pp. 103–119 in Donna, disciplina, creanza cristiana dal XV al XVII secolo, ed. Gabriella Zarri. Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1996. Da Sodoma a Marco Pino, exhibition catalogue, ed. Fiorella Sricchia Santoro et al. Florence: Studio per Edizioni Scelte, 1988. Davies, Martin. National Gallery Catalogues: The Earlier Italian Schools. London: National Gallery, 1961. Dunkerton, Jill, Susan Foister, Dillian Gordon and Nicholas Penny. Giotto to Dürer. Early Renaissance Painting in the National Gallery. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1991. Dunkerton, Jill, Susan Foister, Nicholas Penny. Dürer to Veronese. Sixteenth-Century Painting in the National Gallery. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1999. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘The Early Patronage of Eleonora di Toledo: The Camera Verde and its Dependencies in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ 2 vols. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1995. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza: Eleonora d’Aragona ed Eleonora di Toledo a confronto,’ Quaderni Storici, 35:2, n. 104 (2000), pp. 295–329. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora di Toledo and Cosimo I de’ Medici: Conjugal Patronage and the Painter-Courtier,’ pp. 225–261 in Beyond Isabella. Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy, eds Sheryl E. Reiss and David G. Wilkins, Sixteenth Century Essays & Studies, 54. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Fahy, Conor. ‘The De mulieribus admirandis of Antonio Cornazzano,’ Bibliofilia, 62 (1960), pp. 144–174. Gardner, Edmund G. Dukes and Poets in Ferrara. London: Constable, 1904. Gasparotto, Cesira. ‘La Reggia dei Da Carrara. Il Palazzo di Ubertino e le nuove stanze dell’Accademia Patavina,’ Atti e Memorie dell’Accademia Patavina di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 79 (1966–67), pp. 71–116. Gasparotto, Cesira. ‘Gli ultimi affreschi venuti in luce nella reggia dei da Carrara e una documentazione inedita sulla camera di Camillo,’ in Atti e Memorie dell’Accademia Patavina di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 81 (1968–69), pp. 237–261. Gundersheimer, Werner L. ‘Women, Learning and Power: Eleonora d’Aragona and the Court of Ferrara,’ pp. 43–65 in Beyond their Sex. Learned Women of the European Past, ed. Patricia Labalme. New York and London: New York University Press, 1980. Gundersheimer, Werner L. ‘Bartolommeo Goggio: A Feminist in Renaissance Ferrara,’ Renaissance Quarterly 33:2 (1980), pp. 175–200. Hazard, Mary H. ‘Renaissance Aesthetic Values: “Example,” for Example,’ The Art Quarterly, 2:1 (1979), pp. 1–36.

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Hoppe, Ilaria. ‘Eleonora de Toledo,’ in Frauen der italienischen Renaissance. Dichterinnen, Malerinnen, Mäzeninnen, ed. Irmgard Osols Wehden. Darmstadt: Primus, 1999. Hoppe, Ilaria. ‘A Duchess’ Place at Court: The Quartiere di Eleonora in the Palazzo della Signoria in Florence’ pp. 98–118 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Hughes, Graham. Renaissance Cassoni. Masterpieces of Early Italian Art: Painted Marriage Chests 1400–1550. London: Starcity and Art Books International, 1997. Iotti, Roberta. ‘Phenice unica, virtuosa e pia,’ Civiltà Mantovana. I luoghi del collezionismo, 14–15 (March–June 1995), pp. 113–125. Janson-La Palme, Robert J.H. ‘Painting and Sculpture for the Tuscan Household,’ Review Essay, Renaissance Quarterly 54:2 (2001), pp. 573–590. Joost-Gaugier, Christiane. ‘A Giotto’s Hero Cycle in Naples: A Prototype of Donne Illustri and a Possible Literary Connection,’ Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 43 (1980), pp. 311–318. Joost-Gaugier, Christiane. ‘Poggio and Visual Tradition: Uomini Famosi in Classical Literary Descriptions,’ Artibus et Historiae 12 (1985), pp. 57–74. Kohl, Benjamin G. Padua under the Carrara, 1318–1405. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. Lensi, Alfredo. Palazzo Vecchio. Milan and Rome: Bestetti e Tumminelli, 1929. Lorenzoni, Giovanni. ‘La Reggia e il Castello,’ pp. 29–49 in Padova. Case e Palazzi, eds Lionello Puppi and F. Zuliani. Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1977. Manca, Joseph. The Art of Ercole de’ Roberti. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Manca, Joseph. ‘Constantia et Forteza. Eleonora d’Aragona’s Famous Matrons,’ Source 19:2 (2000), pp. 13–20. Martini, Mario. Bernardino Cacciante Alarinate. Contributo alla storia dell’Umanesimo. Sora: n.p., 1982. Molteni, Monica. Ercole de’ Roberti. Milan: Silvana Editoriale, 1995. Sabadino de gli Arienti, Giovanni. Gynevera de le clare donne di Joanne Sabadino degli Arienti, eds Corrado Ricci and A. Bacchi della Lega. Bologna: RomagnoliDall’Acqua, 1888. Scorza, Rick A. ‘A modello by Stradanus for the “Sala di Penelope” in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ Burlington Magazine, 126 (1984), pp. 433–437. Smyth, Carolyn. ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage in the Medici Court of Sixteenth-Century Florence. The Chapel of Eleonora da Toledo in the Palazzo Vecchio,’ pp. 72–98 in Women and Art in Early Modern Europe. Patrons, Collectors and Connoisseurs, ed. Cynthia Lawrence. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997. Strehlke, Carl Brandon. ‘Art and Culture in Renaissance Siena,’ pp. 33–60 in Painting in Renaissance Siena, 1420–1500, exhibition catalogue, eds Keith Christiansen, L.B. Kauter and C.B. Strehlke. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1988. Syson, Luke. ‘Ercole de’ Roberti: The Making of a Court Artist,’ Burlington Magazine, 141, 1153 (April 1999), pp. v–xi and xxxii–xxxiii. Tatrai, V. ‘Gli affreschi di palazzo Petrucci a Siena. Una precisazione e un’ipotesi sul programma,’ Acta Historiae Artium Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 24 (1978), pp. 177–183. Tatrai, V. ‘Il Maestro di Griselda e una famiglia senese di mecenati dimenticata,’ Acta Historiae Artium Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 25:1–2 (1979), pp. 27–66.

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Chapter 6

Eleonora di Toledo among the Famous Women: Iconographic Innovation after the Conquest of Siena Pamela J. Benson

At the end of December 1560, Eleonora di Toledo received a letter that is unusual in her extant correspondence because it neither asks for advice or assistance nor reports on the condition of her children or her properties. Instead, it provides learned information and moral instruction. After the customary salutation, it begins in medias res, as though in answer to a question: One reads in the ancient histories that in diverse actions women have been the wisest, most valorous, most chaste, and most prudent, and today, in our times, they are found as were the Cumean Sibyl, the Marchesa di Pescara, and plenty of others, as were Pentasilea, Judith and others, as was Roman Lucrece, as was Cleopatra, who with foresighted prudence sooner wished to give herself voluntary death than come into the hands of the enemy rival. Your excellence exceeds that of all the others because the aforementioned four virtues are joined together in you, making you the wisest, the most valorous, most chaste, and most prudent [woman], you so worthily governed and govern yourself that you will be a mirror and light for all other women.1

1 Archivio di Stato, Florence, Mediceo del Principato (henceforth, ASF, MdP), 487, f. 514r. ‘Se lege nelle antique hystorie: In diversi negocii donne sapientissime: valorosissime castissime e prudentissime: esser state: et hogi ai nostri tempi se trovano came fo la cumea sibilla: la marchese di pescara; et altre assai come fo pentasilea Juditta e altre: come fo Lucretia romana, Portia e delle altre come fo cleopatra che piu presto volse darsi voluntaria morte che pervenir nelle mano del rival nimicho per antiveduta prudentia. La excellentia di quella tutte le altre supera: che le prenominate 4 virtu in quella sono collocate: come sapientissima: valorosissima castissima e prudentissima: la se si degnamente Gubernata: e Guberna chella serra specchio e lucerna a tutte le altre.’ I have not yet succeeded in identifying the author of this letter. It is signed Horatio Flavio Falisco; this would seem to be an academic pseudonym. The letter concludes with the story of a prudent hare that escapes the farmer who tries to kill it; the author draws an analogy between Eleonora’s ingenuity in escaping the temptations of sin with the

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Although the encomiastic strategy of praising a woman by declaring her superior to the most famous women of history and contemporary society was a cliché by 1560 – in 1493, Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti had dedicated an entire book to praise of Gynevera Sforza Bentivoglio on the basis of the assertion that Gynevera was superior to a great number of ancient and contemporary women whose biographies he composed as tribute to her – for Eleonora this letter represents a radical innovation. Until this moment, encomia consistently focused on her fecundity. Never in the previous twenty-one years of her marriage had famous women and the cardinal virtues necessary for government been invoked in connection with her, nor had she manifested an interest in them. The letter itself gives no indication of why its author is providing Eleonora with information about famous women, but its date, 30 December 1560, suggests a probable cause. This was the very moment when Vasari was about to begin dismantling the ceilings of four rooms in the duchess’ apartments, and the programme for the decoration had not yet been selected, as is shown by Vasari’s urgent request for ‘a little light … on what you wish that it should be about’ in a letter to Cosimo on 28 January 1561. In his letter, Vasari also proposed a possible topic, ‘the stories of those ruling women who, in their actions, equalled the virtue and worth of men, or rather, surpassed them,’ and on 30 January 1561, Cosimo approved the idea.2 The subject selected for Eleonora’s remodelled rooms, just one month after the letter discussing famous women was written to her was – famous women. The letter of 30 December 1560 shows that despite Vasari’s address of his request to Cosimo, Eleonora was involved in the early planning. I suggest that the letter to Eleonora, never before connected with the iconography of the duchess’ rooms, represents the first moment of a campaign to reshape her public image by adding the allegorical representation of her as a wise, valiant, chaste and prudent ‘donna regia’ to the well-established image of her as fecund, and it shows her active participation as a consultant in that campaign.3 hare’s ingenuity in escaping the farmer. The spiritual advice suggests that the author is in holy orders. 2 The complete text of the relevant passage in Vasari’s letter is as follows: ‘De palchj son tutj in terra, et io o comjncjato a dare ordjne per djpigniere i quadri che uanno per ciascuna stanza; doue io arej caro un poco dj lume da Quella dj quel che dessiderate che si trattj, benche io auessi pensato farui storie dj quelle donne regie che anno con lor fattj paragonato la virtu degli omjnj, anzi vintogli. Non dj meno non faro altra djljberatjone, se non o un motto da Quella.’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris, 1:601. A few days later, on 30 January 1561, Cosimo answered, ‘Quanto all’historie de palchi da dispingersi non Ci dispiace l’inuentione, et potrete sequitarle.’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:604. 3 The letter speaks for Eleonora’s ability to participate intelligently in discussions about her rooms. It asks her to take her previous knowledge of scriptural and classical history, reconsider it

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Three aspects of this proposal challenge conventional wisdom. First, I assert Eleonora’s active participation in planning for the decoration of her rooms in the Palazzo della Signoria, whereas until recently it was generally assumed that the Palazzo was solely Cosimo’s project. Second, I argue that the rooms have political content, whereas until recently it was generally taken for granted that a woman’s rooms in Florence in this period were not public and would have had no political content. Third, I discover that the rooms create an image of Eleonora as an active political presence in Florence, whereas it is generally assumed that Cosimo’s political propagandistic programme focused on Eleonora’s fecundity and that Eleonora did not play an active political role in Florence. In making these claims, I build on the work of other scholars who have recently begun exploring the extent of the independent authority Eleonora exercised during the periods when she was regent in Cosimo’s absence, examining how active a patron she was, and exploring the politics of the images that decorate spaces and objects connected with her, irrespective of her active participation in their planning. So far, Eleonora’s chapel in the Palazzo della Signoria has received the lion’s share of scholarly attention (though, of course, the essays in this volume will change this situation). Janet Cox-Rearick has demonstrated the role in Cosimean politics of the Bronzino chapel in Eleonora’s apartments, and Bruce Edelstein and Carolyn Smythe have provided evidence for Eleonora’s active influence on the chapel’s programme; however, Eleonora’s role in the design of the famous woman rooms in the same apartment in the palazzo and the pivotal importance of those rooms in allegorical representations of her have not yet been thoroughly investigated. In this chapter I will examine the evidence for Eleonora’s role, demonstrate the change in representation of her using the Gualdrada room, the least examined and understood room of the four, as my primary example, and briefly speculate about the reasons for the timing of this major change in iconography. I will argue that, like the letter to Eleonora, the four famous women rooms sustain that her ‘excellence exceeds all the others: because the aforementioned four virtues are joined together in [her] as wisest, most valorous, chastest, and most prudent, [she] so worthily governed and govern[s] [her]self that [she] will be a mirror and light for all the other women,’ and they do so with her approval. In fact, the rooms do even more than the letter promises. They not only praise Eleonora’s past and present self-government and establish her as a moral example for others, as biographies of famous in the light of the new category – active, virtuous women – and read these women as aspects of herself. This respect for Eleonora’s learning reveals a side of her not often seen and rarely recognized by scholars. Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ pp. 299–300, is the exception.

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women dedicated to rulers generally do; they also forge a deep connection between Eleonora and Florence and by doing so they counteract anti-Eleonoran feeling that resulted from the perception of her as Spanish. At the moment when Cosimo’s conquest of Siena had made his hold on Tuscany secure, they celebrate her participation in the establishment, governance, economic wellbeing and peacefulness of the duchy.

Eleonora’s Role Vasari’s letter of 28 January 1561, in which he proposes the idea of ‘ruling women’ (donne regie) to Cosimo, has been taken as indicating that he came up with the whole invention of depicting famous women;4 considered in company with the letter to Eleonora, his proposed ‘donne regie’ can be seen to be a subcategory of the general category ‘women famous for the cardinal virtues.’ Similarly, although Vasari’s addressing of his letter of inquiry to Cosimo seems to establish Cosimo and not Eleonora as the person who would accept or veto the programme, he uses the second person plural for ‘you wish’ (dessiderate) in asking for light to be cast on the subject matter and so indicates that he wishes to know the response of both the duke and the duchess. ‘[U]n poco dj lume da Quella dj quel che dessiderate che si trattj’ is a request that Cosimo (‘Quella,’ singular, formal ‘you’) shed some light on what both he and Eleonora want (‘dessiderate’). This shows Eleonora’s involvement. Two additional letters from Vasari testify to Eleonora’s continuing involvement in the project. These letters are to his close friend Vincenzo Borghini, the inventor of the iconography in the Medici apartments and the Sala dei Cinquecento, dated just before and just after Eleonora’s rooms. In the first letter, written 21 November 1561, Vasari is frustratingly vague; he refers to a meeting he had with the duchess, but he states neither what she contributed nor what topics were discussed at the meeting, though since he concludes by speaking of the ducal couple’s satisfaction with the duchess’s rooms (the upper rooms), the discussions seem to have concerned them. It is possible that the friezes that were to run just below the ceilings were the topic since a letter to the duke written a week earlier (15 November 1561) announces the completion of the ceiling paintings and the beginning of planning for the friezes.5 Despite Vasari’s vagueness, his letter makes it clear that Eleonora’s approval was necessary. 4

All searches for detailed programmes for the rooms have been fruitless. Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:641. By 24 May, the friezes for all rooms but the Gualdrada room were done. Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:680. 5

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This morning … I returned to the same conclaves. The Duke, my Lord, is well. He came yesterday evening at five o’clock. I transacted business with him this morning for one hour and with the Duchess perhaps two. The prince is much better. He will be here in two hours and will stay in the room where the tondo of Penelope is. They are very pleased with the upper rooms … 6

From this letter one learns not only that Vasari can be playfully pompous – he speaks of his meetings with the duke and duchess as ‘conclavi’ – but that he treated with Eleonora separately from Cosimo and for a longer period of time; that he spent two hours with her may suggest that she required more information than did the duke, that she was difficult to convince or, perhaps, simply that she had more time. The use of the work ‘negotiato’ suggests that this meeting was not just a progress report; some issue was on the table, though unfortunately Vasari does not say what it was, only that his patrons were ‘contentati assai.’ The phrase indicates that the ducal couple’s satisfaction was the result of the interview and that Eleonora’s satisfaction was important. The second letter to Borghini, 9 May 1562, confirms the difficulty Vasari had in persuading Eleonora, thus, once again, demonstrating her continuing involvement in the making of decisions about her rooms. Vasari tells Borghini that he hopes that the rooms will be done by Pentecost (17 May), ‘the upper rooms will be completely done: and having satisfied the duchess, I will not have accomplished little.’7 Here, Vasari suggests that Eleonora was an exacting patron and seems to express some relief that he will soon be freed from this project that involved him with her. Taken together, these four letters give the clear impression that Eleonora played a significant role in the process of selecting and carrying out the subject matter for her apartments; she was alerted to the encomiastic potential of images of famous women, and she was consulted about Vasari’s success in achieving results that pleased her. She seems to have been receptive to the notion of being seen as active or potentially active in the political sphere, and the author of the famous woman letter, Cosimo and Vasari all seem to have found this image of her verisimilar enough to provide the basis for encomium. Given the elusiveness of the evidence, it is not possible to say exactly what her role was, but the letters lead me to believe that her understanding of and approval of the programme was sought both before it was 6 Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 1:644. ‘Stamani … torno al medesimo conclavi. Il Duca, mjo Signore, sta bene: Venne jersera a .5. ore di notte. O negotjato stamattjna seco un’ ora et con la Duchessa forse due. Il princjpe sta alquanto meglio: Sara qui fra duore et alloggiera nella stanza doue [dou’è] il tondo dj Penelope. Sonsi contentatj assai delle stanze di sopra … ’ 7 Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, p. 676, ‘et per fino allora sara finjto dj sopra le stanze a fatto: che auendo satisfatto all Duchessa, non aro fatto poco.’

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developed in detail and while it was being executed. Eleonora was part of the process from beginning to end.8 This does not really seem such a surprising claim, given that it is generally recognized that Eleonora actively directed work at the Pitti, but Cosimo’s and Vasari’s direction of the grand plan for the Palazzo della Signoria has, up to now, obscured Eleonora’s lesser, but still important, role in the development of the iconography for her famous woman rooms.9

Eleonora’s iconography before the letter of December 1560 From her marriage to Cosimo in 1539 until late 1560, allegories, portraits and encomia of Eleonora, with a few suggestive exceptions, did not celebrate her capacity for the cardinal virtues or her public role, but celebrated rather her fecundity, her virtue in general, her concern for young, unmarried women and her status as the wife of the ruler. They never connected her with famous women. During the 1540s and 1550s, allegories of her almost exclusively link her with the goddess Juno.10 The only emblem to appear on the obverse of any of Eleonora’s medals was Juno’s bird, a peahen. Its designer, Paolo Giovio explained that: To express therefore a chaste fecundity, I would put a head-on view of a peahen who covers her chicks with her wings, and there could be three [chicks] per wing, with a motto encircling the medal that says: ‘Happy fecundity with chaste modesty’; the peahen being a very chaste, beautiful, and fertile bird.11

Representation of Eleonora as a goddess places her above the ordinary human realm and makes her an object of admiration not emulation, and the 8 At Eleonora’s death in 1562, the painting of the rooms was complete, but the tapestries had not yet been made. Vasari mentions them in the same letter in which he mentions the frieze; when exactly the topics to be represented on these were determined is not clear to me. The tapestries were woven by 25 November 1564; according to Meoni, Gli arazzi, p. 204, the cartoons by Federigo di Lamberto Sustris must date from the end of 1563 or the beginning of 1564. 9 On Eleonora’s management of the Pitti project, see Palazzo Pitti, ed. Chiarini, and Morandini, ‘Palazzo Pitti.’ 10 Bronzino’s tapestry of ‘Apollo (Cosimo) and Minerva (Eleonora) tending a laurel’ is an exception; its theme is still fertility. Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 279, notes that ‘the inscription FVNDATA ENIM ERAT SVPER PETRAM (For it has been founded on a rock) alludes to the strength of the new dynasty.’ 11 ‘Per esprimere adunque una pudica fecondità, io farei nel riverso una pavona, in faccia, la quale cuopre con le ali dalle bande i suoi pavoncini, e potrebbono essere tre per ala, col motto intorno alla medaglia, che dica: “Cum pudore laeta foecunditas”; essendo la pavona uccello di somma pudicizia, bellezza e fecondità.’ Giovio, Lettere, 2:200.

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situations in which the goddess is represented and the actions she is shown or spoken of as taking have no concrete connection with Eleonora’s actions in Florence. The allegory of Eleonora as Juno was most extensively developed in the Terrazzo di Giunone. Vasari’s explanation of the terrace in his Ragionamenti, written by 1558–60, is exemplary of the ways the Juno allegory was applied to Eleonora.12 Juno was, according to Vasari, ‘goddess of the air, of riches, and of kingdoms, and of marriages’ (‘dea dell’aria, delle ricchezze, e de’ regni, e de’ matrimoni’) and thus she makes sense as a figure for Eleonora, who was rich, a duchess and especially dedicated to her marriage and to supporting the marriages of other women. When, however, Vasari explains how the various images of Juno on the terrace can be read to allude to Eleonora, the literal correspondence between image and woman is weak or nonexistent. For example, according to Vasari, in the goddess in her chariot drawn by peacocks ‘we see how she obtains wonderful results when she shows in her deeds that she is serene, conjugal, fecund, rich, generous, pious, just and religious’ (‘si vede in quella fare effetti mirabili col mostrare nelle virtuose azioni sue esser serena, coniugale, feconda, ricca, liberale, pia, giusta e religiosa’). Even when interpretation refers to a specific kind of active participation by Eleonora in the life of the city, nothing in the picture evokes this aspect of her with a specificity that would make it possible for a viewer to see the reading without Vasari’s assistance. Thus, in the story of Io one sees ‘the care that our lady duchess takes of holy virgins and monasteries’ (‘La cura che tiene la signora duchessa nostra delle sacre vergini e monasteri’), but we see the goddess, Jupiter, and a cow. Similarly, the image of Juno as the ‘goddess of civic government’ (‘dea di Podestà’) offered Vasari the opportunity to celebrate the ways in which Eleonora participated in government, but he did not take it. He interprets the image as showing Eleonora’s authority over servants and other needy dependents who obey because of their need. ‘She commands servants and other needy people, who obey her for bread and wages’ (‘comanda ai servi, ed alli altri bisognosi, che per il pane, e i salari l’ubbidiscano’).13 In sum, the images of Juno on her terrazzo do not celebrate the political Eleonora. Similarly, Bronzino’s famed portraits of Eleonora represent her as static, regal and detached. None represent her as engaged in any activities other than being a mother. She is shown with a handkerchief (she had tuberculosis), a fan, a child, a vase, a landscape, rich fabrics, but never with a book, a work of art, an instrument (musical or scientific), a pet, or any other symbol of active 12 13

Dated by Tinagli in ‘Claiming a Place,’ pp. 64–65. Vasari, Le opere, 8:75–76.

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life. Bronzino’s best known portrait of her – dress embroidered with pomegranates, her arm around a little boy, a dark blue sky and a flat landscape with a river in the background – is exemplary of the static representation of her as serene, powerful and fecund. It conveys ‘the message … that the dynasty is established and its continuance ensured’ and ‘the blue sky surrounding the duchess … gives expression to her serenitas mentis, her serenity of mind. Bronzino presents her as the ideal princess praised by Vasari [in his description of the Terrazzo di Giunone] as serena and fecunda, the ideal consort of a stoic prince.’14 I am aware of three partial exceptions to this encomiastic and decorative silence on the subject of Eleonora’s political capacity. They are: allegories of the cardinal virtues in the vault of her chapel in the Palazzo della Signoria, a description of Eleonora in Lodovico Domenichi’s La nobiltà delle donne (1549), and an image on the triumphal arch erected for the ducal couple’s entry into Siena on 28 October 1560. In Eleonora’s chapel, the major decorative project in Eleonora’s suite previous to Vasari’s intervention, Bronzino represented the cardinal virtues on medallions on the four painted spandrels of the vault. Cox-Rearick argues that these virtues are one of the elements that suggest Cosimo’s capacity to bring peace and prosperity to Florence; she makes a strong case based on Bronzino’s association of them with Cosimo elsewhere in the palazzo and on the fundamental role they play in both the Florentine republican tradition and in Renaissance treatises on princes.15 In direct opposition to Cox-Rearick’s reading, however, Bruce Edelstein argues that these images allude ‘to virtues embodied in the duchess herself.’ They admonish Eleonora ‘in her role as occasional regent of Florence, to be temperate, prudent, just and strong; in fact, while Bronzino was doing the freschi Eleonora was twice called upon to play the role of head of the Florentine state.’16 His case is based on the location of the figures in Eleonora’s space, on the cardinal virtues’ later use in the famous women rooms, and on the dedication of treatises on government to women, though not to Eleonora. If Edelstein is right and the virtues in the vault were intended to refer to Eleonora and to admonish her, and could have been interpreted in this way by viewers in the 1540s, then their inclusion represents an important move in the direction of representing her as an active ruler.

14

Langedijk, The Portraits, 1:99. Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 271–276. 16 ‘Alludono alle virtù incarnate nella duchessa stessa … l’ammonivano, nel suo ruolo di reggente occasionale di Firenze, a essere temperata, prudente, giusta e forte; infatti, mentre Bronzino esequiva gli affreschi nella sua cappella, toccò ben due volte a Eleonora svolgere il ruolo di capo dello Stato fiorentino.’ Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 301. 15

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Domenichi’s praise of Eleonora in La nobiltà delle donne is unambiguous. In this largely unoriginal work, based on Galeazzo Capella’s Della eccellenza et dignità della donna (1525) and Agrippa von Nettesheim’s De nobilitate et praecellentia foeminei sexus (1529), Domenichi argues that women are capable of behaving in ways that have traditionally been thought of as male; he reasons that the cardinal virtues are key to a person’s ability to govern states; women are as capable of them as men; thus, women are as capable of governing states as men. To this plagiarized discourse Domenichi added an original ‘Table of famous women nearest to our times’ (‘Tavola delle donne illustri piu vicine a nostri tempi’) in which he abandons his argument and simply celebrates the women of many cities in Italy. The praise of Eleonora occurs in a sub-section devoted to Florence. After praising her beauty, blood and chastity, he celebrates her Magnanimity, Temperance, Mildness, and other virtues and praiseworthy manners that arise from these. Because of which the goodness of God, seeing so many excellencies gathered in her, deigned to make her the most fortunate among all the women who are now on the Earth, with the fecund production of lovely offspring and the rare concord and good will between her most holy consort and herself. So that in these days, one can well call Tuscany blessed, being ruled by two so just and humane princes, of whom one resembles Numa Pompilio and the other Egeria.17

Temperance is a cardinal virtue and magnanimity is a virtue exclusive to princes, thus much of Domenichi’s praise suggests that he is considering Eleonora as governor, but he deflects the force of his argument away from political action by stating that God’s rewards for her virtuous conduct are her fecundity and the reciprocity of love between herself and Cosimo and by comparing her with Egeria, a ‘water nymph to whom pregnant women sacrificed to secure an easy delivery.’ She was ‘the consort and adviser of Numa Pompilius, legendary second King of Rome, whom she used to meet by night’ and ‘instruct in statesmanship and religion.’18 The choice of Egeria reinforces the praise of Eleonora’s fertility and allows the reader to infer that her magnanimity was active only behind the scenes. 17 ‘Magnanimità, Temperantia, Mansuetudine, e altre virtue, e lodevoli costumi, che da queste nascono. Onde la bontà di Dio veggendo tante eccellenze in lei raccolte, s’è degnato anche farla felicissima fra l’altre Donne, c’hoggi sono in terra, e con la fecondità della bella prole, e con la rara Concordia e benevolenza tra il suo santissimo consorte e lei. Talche beata si puo ben chiamare hoggi Thoscana essendo governata da due si giustissimi e humanissimi principi, de quali uno somiglia Numa Pompilio, l’altra Egeria.’ Domenichi, La nobiltà, p. 252. 18 The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature, sub voce, p. 205.

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The triumphal arch commemorating the union of Cosimo and Eleonora, built in 1560 on the elaborately decorated processional route for the formal entry of the duke and duchess into Siena, moved still further on the path of celebrating Eleonora in terms of her political actions. She was represented by statues of both Egeria and Juno. The latter’s political role was made explicit in the statue itself and in the motto that accompanied it. The goddess was shown ‘with a rainbow in one hand and a sceptre that she extended toward His Excellency [Cosimo] in the other, and on her behalf (because this signified the duchess) it was written, You with your sceptre conciliate Jove.’19 This allegory of Eleonora casts her in the role of queen as intercessor; she eases the weight of Cosimo’s rule. The analogy with a goddess suggests that her intercession is effortless. She is above the mire of human life and above the limitations of human beings; her act does not cost her effort, and she runs no risk in performing it. She is serenely powerful.

Eleonora, the Cardinal Virtues, and Famous Women After the triumphal entry into Siena in October 1560, references to Eleonora’s political role become explicit. Primary emphasis was placed not on her unwilled capacity, that is, her fecundity, but on her willed choice, that is, her deeds that manifested the cardinal virtues; not on her mysterious, quasi-divine power to influence Cosimo, but on her power derived from moral action; not on goddesses as precedents, but on mortal women who had existed in human time and space – even in Florence. The result was a new image: a wise, valiant, chaste, prudent Florentine ‘donna regia,’ a worthy earthly counterpart to Duke Cosimo. In their celebration of her for actions based on the cardinal virtues and as a female, human ruler, both the letter to Eleonora and the famous women rooms participate in an important Renaissance rhetorical tradition: the defence of the naturalness of rule by women, a sub-genre of defences of the nobility of women, such as Domenichi’s. The essential argument of all these defences is that women are as capable of the four cardinal virtues as men and thus are as able as men to act in the political sphere, and even to govern. Virtue and the ability to rule, they argue, come as naturally to women as to men and assertions to the contrary are mere cultural constructions. In such defences, famous women are cited as evidence. Some of the 19 ‘Con l’arco celeste in mano et lo sceptro che lo porge a S.E. [Cosimo], et in suo favore (che questo significava la Duchessa) con lettere Tu sceptra iovemque concilies.’ Borghini quoted from Luchinat, ‘Due episodi,’ p. 19. See, Luchinat, ‘Due episodi,’ p. 8 for the reference to Egeria.

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very examples cited in the letter (Judith, Penthesalia) and in the rooms (Hersilia, Esther) are frequently invoked.20 As a result of this turn to the tropes of the defence of woman rule, Eleonora is no longer shown as a being of an entirely different type from other women; she is not the passive, fecund, serene consort who exists in cool isolation from society. She is like other women, only better, as the letter explicitly states, and she acts to resolve all too human social and political problems. She is heroic, a supreme realization of women’s potential. The letter begins to develop ideas that the ceiling carries to completion. It concentrates on Eleonora’s capacity for the cardinal virtues. It explains that she should read the women it cites as examples of valour (a form of fortitude), chastity (temperance), wisdom (justice) and she should see herself as superior to all these exemplary women, who are certainly among the most famous ever, because she is a composite of all four virtues. ‘Your excellence exceeds that of all the others: because the aforementioned four virtues are joined together in you, making you the wisest, the most valorous, most chaste, and most prudent [woman]’; thus, each woman cited represents some aspect of Eleonora, and she herself is a living famous woman. Because the women whom Eleonora is said to supersede all played an active role in the political, as opposed to the domestic or private spheres, the basis of comparison is not just her inner virtue, but also the public actions that arise from it. The attribution of valour to the duchess (and there is no mistaking its military nature, given the reference to Penthesalia) is most important, since those who wished to disqualify women from governing frequently cited their lack of military capacity. The choice of Lucrece as the example of chastity is also telling because, of course, Lucrece’s chastity was expressed as an active virtue, not merely as one of renunciation, and was conventionally interpreted as political in its consequences. The reference to Vittoria Colonna, the Marchesa di Pescara, as an exemplar of wisdom is especially important not only because the relatively recently dead noblewoman (1547) was already legendary as a poet and an intellectual, but also because, though Italian herself, she had married into the Neapolitan-Spanish nobility to which Eleonora belonged. The writer of the letter suggests that in her demonstration of all four cardinal virtues Eleonora bests Colonna, the most famous woman of her own day, who, according to the letter, demonstrated only one virtue, though to a most extraordinary degree. 20 On the defence of woman rule and the defence of women in general, see Benson, Invention. In texts devoted exclusively to the topic, the rhetorical strategies of defence are complex and often paradoxical. The letter clearly does not examine the question of how Eleonora would rule; it merely uses the trope of the cardinal virtues as praise.

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Like, Penthesalia, Lucrece, Colonna and the other famous women, Eleonora will serve present and future generations of women as a model because her virtue is an achievement maintained by a constant effort of the will; it can be imitated, unlike the inimitable deeds of the goddesses to whom she had been compared previously. The letter’s conclusion makes this clear: ‘you so worthily governed and govern yourself that you will be a mirror and light for all other women.’ The tone is not didactic; the letter writer does not admonish her to be virtuous, as Edelstein asserts the chapel vault does, but celebrates her for already being so. She shows that with self-government women can achieve prudence, wisdom, fortitude and chastity and, having done so, act in the public realm.

The Famous Women Rooms Eleonora’s apartments develop the comparison between Eleonora and famous women on a truly grand scale. Like the letter of December 1560, they are encomiastic, not monitory, but the rooms focus on action rather than capacity for it. The decoration of each of the four large rooms is structured in the same way. In each, an event from the life of the famous woman to whom the room is dedicated occupies a large central panel on the ceiling and numerous small soffits of various shapes surround it. In these are painted images that evoke Cosimo, Tuscany and the Medici: Cosimo’s imprese (the astrological sign of Capricorn and a tortoise with a sail on its back), Tuscan river gods, Medici arms and so forth. A frieze consisting of several panels per wall runs just below each room’s ceiling. Tapestries no longer hang in the rooms, but they were part of the original plan. The first room is devoted to the Sabine women’s heroic intercession in the combat between their Roman husbands and their Sabine male relatives. The large oval central ceiling panel shows Hersilia, their leader, with her companions, rushing in to separate the men, who advance on each other with drawn swords; the frieze includes the Capricorn and the tortoise, allegories of peace, fame, fortitude and charity, all represented as women, Diana, Juno with a peacock and a rainbow, Mars in repose, and four scenes of Roman landscapes and rituals. The rectangular central panel of the second room shows Esther kneeling before her husband King Ahasuerus, who is touching her with his sceptre, granting her plea. The frieze consists of the inscription Sena Duc. II Eleonora a Tolledo Florentia, Cosimean symbols and eight ovals with scenes that tell the rest of Esther’s story. The central tondo of the third room shows Penelope at her loom in the midst of women occupied in spinning and other phases of textile production. The frieze is devoted to eight of Ulysses’s

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adventures and to four virtues: prudence, charity, fortitude and temperance, all represented as women. The octagonal central panel of the fourth room shows the Florentine maiden Gualdrada confronting the emperor Otto IV and her father, while her future husband, Count Guido Guerra, observes and Flora, an allegory of Florence, lounges in the foreground. The surrounding soffits are filled with Cosimo’s Capricorn and tortoise and amorini dancing with garlands. The frieze alternates views of Florence, showing games and rituals, with female allegories of patience, faith, justice and hope. The choice of these four women sharply narrows the range of activities for which Eleonora is praised. The letter gives a broad selection of examples of the kinds of political and public action that result from the women’s cardinal virtues – from military to literary, from justifiable assassination to justifiable suicide, from independent government of kingdoms to wifely fidelity. In the rooms, there is no Judith, no Lucrece, no Vittoria Colonna, no Cleopatra, thus, there is no violence of women against men or against themselves, but also no independent queenship or proficiency in letters. Instead, we see Penelope, Hersilia, Esther and Gualdrada, women who employ the power that accrues to them from their virtue for the benefit of others or to interrupt the violence of men against men; as queens they depend on their husbands for authority. These images and their accompanying friezes construct a very positive image of the Duchess Eleonora as a force at the heart of the state – a powerful intercessor, concerned with the city’s economic well-being, and a Florentine – without representing her as independent or violent. The programme was highly innovative. As far as we know, the programme of no previous ruling woman’s room, let alone suite, in Renaissance Italy had been devoted solely to famous women and, although Tuscan bedrooms often included such images on cassoni and spalliere commissioned by grooms’ families, Eleonora’s rooms are not just traditional Tuscan domestic art on a grand scale. Cassoni and spalliere did not refer in any specific way to the bride whose bedroom they would adorn and were not encomiastic of the woman whose wedding they marked. Instead, they may have been intended to be read by women as ideals or admonishments to good behaviour, much as the letter to Eleonora says that she, a famous woman, will be read by others.21 Even when images applied to contemporary Florentine events, as did Botticelli’s famous Lucrece and Virginia, they did not refer to political actions by women; they recommended that women imitate the spirit not the letter of the deeds.22 Unlike the cassoni and spalliere, Eleonora’s apartments are highly political in what they say about Eleonora herself as well as in the 21 22

Tátrai, ‘Il maestro della storia di Griselda,’ p. 58. Barriault, Spalliera Paintings, pp. 130–131.

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ways they address the duke and duchess’ position in Florence. The programme is tailored to fit Eleonora, and only Eleonora, in her Cosimean Florentine context, and, while the commission for it did not originate with her, it was painted with her in mind and her approval of it was necessary, as the letters examined at the beginning of this chapter show. That the sequence refers to Eleonora is clear. Each shows a married or soon to be married woman and her husband, who is a ruler or future ruler. Details in the decorative schemes that surround the images of the famous women in all four rooms establish the room’s direct connection with Eleonora and her bond with Cosimo, the Medici and Florence. The Esther room is most explicit; there, her name and title encircle the room in the frieze while the Medici balls, the Florentine lily and Cosimo’s imprese appear on the soffited ceiling. The Sabine room includes Cosimo’s imprese and Juno with her peacock, the bird that appeared on Eleonora’s medal. The Penelope room includes the Medici/Toledo arms, Cosimo’s imprese and allegories of Tuscan rivers. The Gualdrada room has the Medici/Toledo arms, Cosimo’s imprese, amorini with garlands – an allusion to Cosimo and Eleonora’s fruitful marriage – and scenes of Florentine festivals and games that connect Eleonora firmly with Florence. As a result of these supporting elements, it is logical to read each central scene allegorically as a representation of a kind of regal action taken by Eleonora; however, unlike classic defences of woman rule, which argue for women’s capacity to govern independently, the rooms celebrate Eleonora as co-ruler of Florence. She is Cosimo’s duchess, actively engaged in ruling with him, but distinctly inferior to him in authority and power. The first three rooms present reassuring images of a ruling woman’s use of her regal authority for socially beneficial purposes and suggest that Eleonora does what these women did. Before turning to a detailed analysis of the unusual Gualdrada room, I will briefly suggest the aspects of Eleonora evoked by Hersilia, Penelope and Esther, all represented so frequently on spalliere and cassoni. Although Penelope was traditionally read as an example of fidelity, and, of course, that meaning makes sense here, I suggest a political meaning as well. The connection between the two women also lies in their guardianship of the state in their respective husbands’ absences. We see the ruling lady attending to the economy of the state: Penelope is shown at work at her loom, at the centre of a bustling workshop staffed by women. There is no effort to present an antique image of the ancient Greek lady. She and the others are dressed in modern clothing; her loom is a sixteenth-century loom, and the other women use instruments from the sixteenth-century textile industry. A prospect of a Renaissance city is visible and people dressed in modern clothing lean over a balustrade to watch her work. Since Florence was a major textile centre at the

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time, thanks to Cosimo’s efforts, the scene suggests Florence and perhaps even suggests that in Cosimo’s absence Eleonora supervised the industry which, as the painting shows, was a major employer of women.23 Others have suggested that the image of the Sabine women celebrates the duchess’ ‘gifts as mediator with Cosimo.’24 Given the depiction of combat in the painting, I believe this reading could be developed with more precision in relation to the war with Siena.25 The Esther room also represents mediation, and I wonder whether, given Esther’s sponsorship of a religious group, it could refer to Eleonora’s well-known advocacy to Cosimo in favour of the Jesuits’ appeal to start a college in Florence.26

The Gualdrada Room These first three rooms celebrate Eleonora’s conduct as duchess of Florence: the Gualdrada room celebrates her conduct at the very moment when she was selected to become Cosimo’s wife. Understanding the room’s allegory and its political implications depends on knowledge of the legend of Gualdrada, knowledge that most moderns do not have, but that most viewers, and certainly all literate Florentine viewers, would have had when the room was painted. Gualdrada (c. 1165–1226) was well known in Florence. Her story was first told by Dante’s contemporary Giorgio Villani in his history of Florence, the Nuova Cronica, which circulated extensively in manuscript and 23 See Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ pp. 302–306 for a very strong case for Eleonora’s business abilities. His evidence is of her buying and selling grain; he also speaks about her purchases of large quantities of clothing for her family and livery for servants. I have not yet found any reference to her participation in cloth-making to substantiate my suspicion that she was active in encouraging cloth manufacture in Florence itself, a hub of textile production. The effect is both to suggest a past stretching back to heroic Greece and to display a present proud of its own achievements and eminently worthy of such a comparison. It implies that Eleonora is a Renaissance Penelope. 24 ‘Le doti di mediatrice nei confronti del duca Cosimo.’ Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, p. 196. The authors suggest that the image invites other women to emulate this behaviour without elaborating on the form this imitation would take. 25 Many of the letters Eleonora received are requests that she intercede with Cosimo on behalf of the writer or a person or group of people whom he or she represents. See, for example, ASF, MdP 481, f. 222; 481, f. 291; f. 483, 150; 486a, f. 743; 486a, f. 1172; 486a, f. 1185. 480, f. 229 (21 August 1559) is particularly interesting because it is an appeal from the government of Siena for Eleonora to persuade Cosimo to grace Siena with his presence. 26 See Franceschini, ‘Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits.’ Alternatively, it could refer to Eleonora’s intercession on behalf of the Jewish community in Florence. I base this second suggestion on Bruce Edelstein’s claim that Eleonora was famous among Jews as a protector; see Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 300 and p. 314, n. 44.

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was published in 1559 by the Giunti Press. Boccaccio made her a ‘famous woman’ by including her in his De mulieribus claris, which was published numerous times in the sixteenth century in Latin and in Italian translation, and told her story in his extremely influential annotations of Dante’s Inferno where she is called ‘buona Gualdrada’ (Inf. 16:37). Most other Dante commentators followed Boccaccio’s lead and told her story. Bandello included it in his very popular novella collection (it is number 18), published in 1554.27 All these texts tell essentially the same story. In his Ricordi, the journal where he noted annually the works he had completed, Vasari himself briefly explains. Gualdrada, he says, was ‘the daughter of messer Belincion Berti de Ravigniani, a Florentine; when the emperor [Otto IV] saw her he desired her because she was beautiful. Her father, who was present, said that he had the spirit to make her accept the emperor’s kiss. She answered, “My father, I do not wish that any man kiss me except he who will be my husband.”’28 Other sources tell the conclusion of the story: the emperor was so impressed by Gualdrada’s refusal to kiss him that he arranged a marriage for her with Guido Guidi, a count palatine. Guido, ‘seized by love for her because of her grace, and by the advice of said emperor Otto,’ agreed to the marriage.29 According to most versions, this event had three important political results: the emperor gave Gualdrada the Casentino, a mountainous region to the east of Florence, as her dowry; Guido, who had been an enemy of Florence, became the commune’s ally; and four of the couple’s sons, and their sons in turn, were important in subsequent Florentine history.30 There are several obvious parallels between this legend and the marriage of Eleonora and Cosimo. Emperors negotiated both marriages, both marriages resulted in the expansion of the husbands’ territories – Guido’s because 27 As far as I have been able to ascertain, Gualdrada’s famous deed had never before been represented in visual form. Some texts of the De mulieribus claris illustrate Gualdrada’s biography with a generic picture of a woman (used also for other women in the collection); none offers an individualized portrait of her. 28 ‘Figliola dj messer Belincion Bertj de Raujgnianj Fiorentino, qual vedendola linperator cosi bella, la desidero. Il padre, che uera presente, djsse, che gli bastaua lanjmo dj fargnene basciare. Rispose lej: “mio padre, non vo, che mj basci, se non quello che sara il mio marito.”’ Vasari, Der literarische Nachlass, 2:876. 29 Villani, Nuova cronica, 1:265. 30 This story is a mixture of fact and fiction. The Florentine girl did marry the Count Palatine, but they were married long before Otto visited Florence, so the romantic tale did not take place. Guido did rule over the Casentino, but the Guidi had been lords of it for generations. The couple did have four sons, and some of their descendants played important roles in Florence, but by 1561 the family was no longer powerful. Around the time the ceiling was painted, Vincenzo Borghini discovered evidence that the story was not factual; it is impossible to determine whether Vasari knew this. See Borghini, Discorsi, 1:9–10.

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of the emperor’s supposed gift of the Casentino to Gualdrada for her dowry and Cosimo’s because Eleonora’s dowry and business astuteness allowed him to purchase territory – and both unions produced several sons who either achieved or promised to achieve political success and power.31 The fundamental similarity, however, the one on which all other parallels depend, is that between Eleonora and Gualdrada. The ceiling suggests that, like the Florentine maiden, Eleonora attracted her future husband’s attention by publicly displaying her virtue. This analogy enhances the duchess’ reputation by suggesting that her marriage had its origin in Cosimo’s admiration for her virtuous character rather than in his desire to connect himself more closely to the emperor. Two pieces of evidence suggest that the representation of Eleonora’s public virtue, which seems mere courtly flattery, may have had a germ of truth that would have resonated with the couple’s contemporaries. Aldo Manuzio the Younger’s biography of Cosimo (1586) states that Cosimo first saw and admired Eleonora when he visited Naples as part of Alessandro de’ Medici’s entourage in 1536, several years before his engagement to her.32 Also, when it was proposed to Cosimo that he marry Isabella, Eleonora’s older sister, he wrote to his representative saying, ‘I understand that the viceroy [is begging] his majesty to saddle me with his eldest daughter. I do not believe that He [the emperor] would permit such an ill-proportioned and inconvenient thing’ and ordering that he persuade the viceroy to give him ‘the second one’, that is, Eleonora, instead.33 In the end, the emperor himself arranged the marriage Cosimo desired. This letter makes it clear that the match was, at least in part, the result of Cosimo’s choice, even though it gives no evidence that his preference was based on his ever having seen Eleonora. Long after the fact, the ceiling of the Gualdrada room urged the viewer to consider Cosimo’s admiration for Eleonora’s publicly exhibited virtue to be the primary impetus toward the marriage and to see the emperor as merely a facilitator. Thus the analogy with Guido strengthens Cosimo’s position with regard to the emperor and the room participates in Cosimo’s continued effort to counteract the public’s impression that he was the emperor’s creature, an issue that was newly sensitive after the conquest of Siena because Cosimo’s right to the city as a feudal holding was confirmed by Emperor Ferdinand I on 9 September 1560.34 31 I base my comments on the legend of how Gualdrada came to marry Guido. There is no historical evidence that Otto arranged the marriage. 32 Aldo Manuzio the Younger cited in Pieraccini, La stirpe, vol. 2, part 1, pp. 14, 56. Also Baia, Leonora di Toledo, pp. 16, 34. 33 ASF, MdP 2, ff. 121v–123r, draft of a letter dated 11 January 1539; quoted from CoxRearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 23, 351, n. 5. 34 Cosimo’s official biographer, Giovanbattista Adriani, defended him against the charge that

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One of the primary barriers to public acceptance of the duke’s claim to independence from the emperor and from Spanish influence was Eleonora herself. Her haughty manner and her origin in a Spanish viceregal family seem to have led many Florentines to perceive her as an enemy and to have increased anti-Medicean sentiment generally, or at least to have aggravated it among those still devoted to the republic.35 The diarist Marucelli seems to speak for many when he says, ‘the Florentine Republicans hated [Cosimo’s] wife’ throughout the 1540s and 1550s. Many examples reveal Marucelli’s perception that Eleonora’s heart was with the Spanish, that her manner and presentation of herself remained haughtily Spanish, that she had a powerful negative effect on Cosimo’s policies toward Florentines of all social classes and that when she was left in control of the city people feared the worst. The diarist’s lament on the death of Cosimo’s mother, Maria Salviati (1543) when Cosimo himself was ill and away from the city is typical; it reveals both antiSpanish feeling and anxiety about Eleonora’s mode of governing. ‘When word of her death got around, the city was very unhappy and full of mourning about it because they remained in the hands of a barbarian Spaniard who was the enemy of her husband’s country.’ Marucelli also complains about her indifference to the poor; during a famine, she apparently said that ‘those who could not eat twice a day should eat once a day,’ thus showing herself to be uncaring of the people’s plight. In sum, the Spanish duchess was ‘a proud woman and an absolute enemy of the Florentines.’36 The Gualdrada room counters this impression of Eleonora by stressing the titular heroine’s connection to the city and its ancient republican values. Lovely cityscapes of Florence circle the room in the frieze, several men in the central panel wear Florentine red hats and cloaks, the old façade of the cathedral is in the background, and civic symbols dominate the foreground: Flora leans on the Marzocco (the Florentine lion) and holds a bunch of flowers, an etymological reference to Florence (Fiorenza). All these elements urge the reading of Gualdrada’s action as patriotic and essentially Florentine.37 Like David, the Florentine maiden was weak and stood up to those far mightier than she; in this case, to the imperial power that for centuries had he was a creature of the emperor; see Adriani, Istoria, pp. 110, 130. See also Diaz, Il Granducato, pp. 110 and 122–123 on the special difficulties that the conquest of Siena posed to his image; and Spini, Cosimo I de’ Medici. 35 This attitude is contradicted by the many appeals for her intercession with Cosimo from a wide variety of people that show her to have been perceived by many as a benign influence on Cosimo. For examples of pleas for her intercession, see above, n. 25. 36 Marucelli, Cronaca, pp. 25, 93, 128. 37 For a thorough explanation of the reading of Gualdrada as emblematic of Florence, see my ‘Gualdrada’s Two Bodies.’

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threatened to deprive Florence of her independence and her dominion over the territory that surrounded her. Gualdrada’s father’s offer of her to the emperor is a betrayal of the commune’s interests because Gualdrada, as a marriageable virgin, would be useful to the commune as a binder of peace, and the emperor’s kiss would pollute her, as she so eloquently protests. Her father’s pandering offer represents a strategy that would bring ruin to the commune because it placates the emperor by sacrificing what is most valuable in the city. Gualdrada’s defence of her integrity protects not only her body, but also the interests of Florence, and the figure of Flora in the foreground suggests that her action can be read as emblematic of a particularly Florentine course of action: a strategic resistance that preserves the republic’s integrity and territory, whether that territory is women’s bodies, or the city and its contado. By a kind of temporal sleight of hand, the parallel between Eleonora and Gualdrada makes the presumed virtuous act that links the duchess to the ancient maiden demonstrate Eleonora’s commitment to Florence and independence from the emperor. Like so many elements in the palazzo, the room demonstrates that Cosimo’s regime is a continuation of the older Florentine government and does not represent a radical break with the past. By bonding Eleonora and Florence, it also completes the demonstration that Eleonora’s virtue led her to actively promote Florentine interests that begins in the first three rooms of Eleonora’s apartments. The room thus erases the distance between Spanish-Neapolitan Eleonora and her adopted city.

Conclusion There is, of course, no way of knowing whether the association of Eleonora with famous women and the change it wrought in her image would have been permanent had she lived; however, I suspect that the new representation of Eleonora as a wise, valorous, chaste and prudent famous woman would have persisted because it was appropriate to the political situation of the times and it better suited the woman that Eleonora had become by 1560. In that year, she turned forty-one. Her child-bearing years had apparently ended – her last child, Pietro, had been born in 1554 – and the succession was firmly established, so celebrating the middle-aged matriarch as fecund would have seemed increasingly stale and inappropriate. In that year, also, the completion of the conquest of Siena exacerbated the long-standing perception that Cosimo was a creature of Spain and of the emperor because imperial troops participated in the assault and Cosimo was able to annex the city only with the emperor’s permission. An affirmation of Eleonora’s dedication to Florentine interests,

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such as we see in the famous women rooms, would have been especially useful. Finally, Cosimo’s efforts to be elevated to Prince of Tuscany (or, if not prince, Grand-duke) gathered intensity after the conquest of Siena; to present Eleonora as a famous woman would have made her seem worthy of such elevation herself. In sum, the case that Eleonora’s famous women rooms make for her as manager, peacemaker, intercessor and Florentine was a brilliant iconographic strategy. Rhode Island College Providence, RI

Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence. Archivio di Stato (ASF) Mediceo del Principato (MdP) 480, 481, 483, 486a, 487

Published Sources Adriani, Giovanni Baptista. Istoria de’ suoi tempi. Florence: Giunti, 1583. Allegri, Ettore and Alessandro Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio e i Medici: guida storica. Florence: SPES, 1980. Baia, Anna. Leonora di Toledo, duchessa di Firenze e di Siena. Todi: Z. Foglietti, 1907. Barriault, Anne B. Spalliera Paintings of Renaissance Tuscany: Fables of Poets for Patrician Homes. University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994. Benson, Pamela J. The Invention of the Renaissance Woman: The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and Thought of Italy and England. University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992. Benson, Pamela J. ‘Gualdrada’s Two Bodies: Female and Civic Virtue in Medieval Florence,’ pp. 1–15 in The Body and the Soul in Medieval Literature, The J.A.W. Bennett Memorial Lectures, Tenth Series, ed. Piero Boitani and Anna Torti. Suffolk, UK: D.S. Brewer, 1999. Borghini, Vincenzo. Discorsi, ed. Domenico Maria Manni. 4 vols. Classici italiani, vols. 148–151. Milan: Società tipografica Classici italiani, 1808. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Bronzino’s Chapel of Eleonora in the Palazzo Vecchio. California Studies in the History of Art, 29. Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993. Diaz, Furio. Il Granducato di Toscana. I Medici. Turin: UTET, 1987. Domenichi, Ludovico. La nobiltà delle donne. Venice: Gabriel Giolito de Ferrari, 1549. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza: Eleonora d’Aragona ed

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Eleonora di Toledo a Confronto,’ Quaderni storici 35:2, n. 104 (2000), pp. 295– 329. Franceschini, Chiara. ‘Los scholares son cosa de su excelentia, como lo es toda la Compañia: Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits,’ pp. 181–206 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Giovio, Paolo. Lettere. 2 vols. Ed. Giuseppe Guido Ferrero. Rome: Istituto Poligrafico dello Stato, 1956–58. Langedijk, Karla. The Portraits of the Medici: 15th–18th Centuries. 3 vols. Florence: SPES, 1981–1987. Luchinat, Cristina Acidini. ‘Due episodi della conquista Cosimiana di Siena,’ Paragone 29 (1978), pp. 3–26. Manuzio, Aldo (the Younger). Vita di Cosimo de’ Medici primo gran duca di Toscana descritta da Aldo Mannucci. Bologna, 1586. Marucelli. Cronaca fiorentina: 1537–1555, ed. Enrico Coppi. Deputazione di storia patria per la Toscana, Documenti di storia italiana, ser. 2, vol. 7. Florence: Olschki, 2000. Meoni, Lucia. Gli arazzi nei musei fiorentini. La collezione medicea. Catalogo completo. Livorno: Sillabe, 1998. Morandini, Francesca. ‘Palazzo Pitti, la sua costruzione e i successivi ingrandimenti,’ Commentari 16 n.s. (1965), pp. 35–46. The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature, ed. M.C. Howatson, 2nd ed. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Palazzo Pitti. L’arte e la storia, ed. Marco Chiarini. Florence: Nardini, 2000. Pieraccini, Gaetano. La stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo. 3 vols. 2nd ed. Florence: Vallecchi, 1924–25. Spini, Giorgio. Cosimo I de’ Medici e l’indipendenza del principato mediceo. Florence: Vallechi, 1945; repr. 1980. Tátrai, V. ‘Il maestro della storia di Griselda e una famiglia senese di mecenati dimenticata,’ Acta Historiae Artium 25 (1979), pp. 27–66. Tinagli, Paola, ‘Claiming a Place in History: Giorgio Vasari’s Ragionamenti and the Primacy of the Medici,’ pp. 63–76 in ed. Konrad Eisenbichler, The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Vasari, Giorgio. Le opere, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1906; repr. 1981. Vasari, Giorgio. Der literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris, ed. Karl Frey. Vols 1–2, Munich: G. Müller, 1923, 1930. Vol. 3, Burg b.M.: August Hopfer, 1940; repr. Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms Verlag, 1982. Villani, Giovanni. Nuova cronica, ed. Giuseppe Porta, 3 vols. Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo/Ugo Guanda Editore, 1990.

Chapter 7

Eleonora di Toledo’s Chapel: Lineage, Salvation and the War Against the Turks Robert W. Gaston

This chapter offers a speculative approach to the cultural memory of a female patron and user of a chapel, the private liturgical and devotional space decorated by Bronzino for Eleonora di Toledo in the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, 1541–53.1 My approach to the issue of how Eleonora might have experienced in her own mind the imagery that Bronzino prepared for her chapel gives a single-minded Spanish emphasis to the visual and textual evidence. Other scholars before me have at least alluded to the probable significance of Eleonora’s Spanish background in determining her attitudes toward religious devotion, courtly etiquette, taste in clothing and choice of subject matter for her private chapel, but their evidence has been drawn chiefly from the Italian sources generated by research into the cultural ideology of the Medici court into which Eleonora was introduced. Eleonora’s Spanish background is acknowledged, for example, by Janet Cox-Rearick, who comments that Eleonora’s ‘personal devotion to St. Francis may have reflected the widespread Spanish devotion to the saint.’2 In his review of Cox-Rearick’s work, Bruce Edelstein emphasizes the probable Spanish origin of Eleonora’s devotion to St Francis and adds that St Jerome’s presence on the chapel’s vault should also be connected with the Jeronimite order’s Spanish origin and diffusion ‘even in Toledo, the ancestral home of Eleonora’s 1 This study is also a sketch for a longer projected study on the probable Spanish sources for Eleonora’s comprehension of her chapel iconography. I must thank Carlos Mas and Francesco José Gallo Léon at the Archivo de la Nobleza, Toledo; the archivists at the Archivo General, Simancas; Charles Faulhaber, who helped me at the Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid; Susan Rosenstein at the Hispanic Society of America, New York; the librarians at the Boston Public Library and the Houghton Library, Harvard University, and Dr Doug Lewis at the National Gallery of Art, Washington DC for their invaluable help in this project. 2 Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 413, n. 77.

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family.’3 Elsewhere, Edelstein connects both Saints Francis and Jerome on the vault with ‘models of Spanish/Neapolitan devotion’ (‘modelli di devozione ispano-napoletani’), noting that Eleonora of Aragon also possessed images of both saints, according to inventories made at her death in 1493.4 For her part, Carolyn Smyth comments that ‘[Eleonora’s] upbringing in the Spanish court of Naples prepared her for a life in Florence in which seclusion, prayers and the demanding domestic occupation of rearing a large family alternated with the less retiring activities of travel, sport and gambling.’ Smyth justly observes that ‘the anti-Spanish sentiments of Italian chroniclers, past and present, often colour views of the duchess’ character’, and that ‘the intense privacy of her spiritual life and the extravagance of her public display met with disapproval.’5 Hernando Sánchez relates the Pietà altarpiece of Eleonora’s chapel to her father’s subsequent commissioning of a Pietà from Pedro de Rubiales for the high altarpiece of the Cappella della Sommaria in the Castel Capuano.6 I make no apology for arguing that my investigation of the meaning of Eleonora’s chapel begins with the fact that she was a Spanish woman educated in Spain before 1534 and thereafter in the Spanish enclave at Naples.7 The argument proceeds from two undisputed facts: Eleonora’s immersion in Spanish visual and linguistic aristocratic culture in the seventeen years before she married Cosimo, and her persistence with Spanish linguistic practice after her marriage; not to mention the eye-witness testimony that during the early to mid-1540s she prayed frequently in the room in the palazzo identified by contemporary observers as both a cappella and an oratorio.8 In what

3

Edelstein, ‘Review,’ p. 173. Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 313, n. 29. 5 Smyth, ‘An Instance of Feminine Patronage,’ p. 89 and n. 27. 6 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 532. 7 We do not know the birth dates of Leonor (her baptismal name) and her three sisters; Isabel and Leonor arrived with their mother in Naples on 24 May 1534; see Summonte, Dell’Historia, 5:178; Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 98; Edelstein, ‘Nobildonne napoletane,’ p. 296, confuses Don Pedro’s arrival date in 1532 (4 September) with that of his wife and children. 8 Cox-Rearick aptly comments: ‘Cosimo’s bride rapidly became known in Florence for her extreme piety, probably a result of her strict Spanish upbringing. [Pierfrancesco] Riccio … in 1541, reported with some exasperation on Eleonora’s preoccupation with business and prayer: “La Duchessa … passa tempo con li negotii, con li trattenimenti di donne che la visitano, et con l’orationi che me par esser come sono in un monasterio di murate”’; Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 45. In his 1550 edition, Vasari calls the painted room a cappella: see Vasari, Le vite, 593; for the 1568 edition citations of the chapel, see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 70–71, 78, 85. Another ducal secretary, Lorenzo Pagni, describes the room both as an oratorio (Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 75), and a cappella (Cox-Rearick, pp. 76, 78). In a letter to Riccio of 8 April 1550 Sforza Almeni called the room an oratorio (Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 82). 4

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follows I will exclude virtually everything already written about the chapel and its iconography. Italian parallels can be found for much of the imagery and they have been amply published. My intention is to offer fresh readings from unexplored sources, rather than engage in argumentation with previous scholars of the chapel, whose contributions I gratefully acknowledge. Eleonora’s mother, Maria Osorio Pimentel, the second marquesa of Villafranca del Bierzo, in Leon, was from the age of seven a ward of the counts of Benavente and then of Queen Isabella the Catholic at the moveable royal court. Aged just thirteen, on 8 August 1503, she was married to don Pedro Álvarez de Toledo (Alba de Tormes, 1480–Florence, 1553), son of the Duke of Alba. Don Pedro thus acquired the marquesado of Villafranca.9 The Pimentel, like the counts of Benavente, were noted book collectors.10 In 1524, when Eleonora was perhaps two years of age, her mother Maria commissioned a devotional treatise, The Mirror of Illustrious Persons (Espejo de illustres personas) from her spiritual director, the Franciscan friar Alonso de Madrid.11 The Espejo, which by 1539 saw four editions in Spain, sets out a private devotional programme for Maria. Given what we know about the patterns of maternal instruction of daughters in devotional practice in this period through their choice of books, we can assume that the Espejo probably formed the basis of Eleonora’s youthful devotional habits during her first years in Florence.12 The treatise’s assumption is that persons of great rank have a singular obligation to serve God and to follow the spiritual life (Prol., f. 3r). The woman’s magnanimity – her appropriate female virtue – must imitate that of Christ, king of the celestial and earthly cavallería (Cap. 1, f. 4r–v). Like an illustrious Spanish knight seeking great honours, she must be ready to die for her king, Christ, by rejecting the vices of the world. She must pay Christ reverential obedience and behave in his presence, in the act of prayer, as she would before her sovereign emperor (Cap. 3, f. 7v). God’s angels serve him ceaselessly, I agree with Edelstein’s insistence on Eleonora’s patronage ‘in her private oratory,’ rather than her husband’s (‘Bronzino in the Service,’ p. 232). 9 On Maria’s lineage, see Franco Silva, ‘El Señorío de Villafranca,’ and Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 67–69. On Don Pedro, apart from Hernando Sánchez’s magisterial study, see Moral, El Virrey, pp. 7–15; Vaamonde Romero, La Iglesia de Santiago, pp. 379–383; Coniglio, Il viceregno di don Pietro; the principal early sources are Castaldo, Vida de Don Pedro, translated from Italian (see Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 28); Miccio, ‘Vita di Don Pietro,’ and Rosso, Historia. Pedio, Napoli e Spagna, gives a composite collection of the earliest chroniclers. 10 Beceiro Pita, ‘Los libros.’ 11 Christiaens, ‘Alonso de Madrid’; Cortest, ‘Fray Alonso de Madrid.’ Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 437, noted the commissioning of the Espejo. 12 Bell, ‘Medieval Women Book Owners,’ p. 767.

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hearing her prayers, and are always present when she takes the eucharist (Cap. 5, ff. 9v–10r). Upon rising she should fall to her knees upon the earth in prayer before God’s great majesty, humbly begging his forgiveness. With the sign of the cross she will enter into battle with God’s enemies, the devil, the world and the flesh (Caps. 7–8, ff. 12v–14r). Before sleeping, she must practice a spiritual exercise for quarter or half an hour, contemplating her sins and the thousand sufferings they caused Christ and his blessed mother at the foot of the cross. Alternatively, she should perform this repentance on Saturday nights, or for the vespers of feast days, reciting the Credo, the Pater Noster, the Ave Maria and the Salve Regina before sleeping ‘in the peace of the Lord.’ The Credo should be recited with fear of being in the presence of the Lord’s infinite power (Cap. 12, f. 18r–v). She should meditate on the life of Christ, but especially on his ‘sacred, frightful Passion’ (Cap. 14, f. 21r–v). She must always keep death before her eyes, and ever fearful of the presence of demons, the enemies of God; she must pray for deliverance and become a worthy servant of the great King, her universal Señor (Cap. 16, ff. 25v–27v). Fray Alonso’s treatise harks back to another which Eleonora’s mother surely encountered during her wardship at the court of Queen Isabella the Catholic. It was commissioned some time between 1469 and 1476 from the queen’s Augustinian confessor, Martín de Córdova, and was entitled The Garden of Noble Maidens (Jardín de nobles doncellas). Martín argued that as the Virgin’s role in the heavenly court is as queen and advocate, so the princess or queen should exercise a compassionate piety towards her children, the vassals of her court, her maids and servants, and especially towards the noble married women who aspire to become queens. These actions flow from woman’s special qualities of modesty, piety and ‘obsequiousness.’ The princess should hear mass daily, say the office of the Virgin, hear sermons and converse with the learned clergy. Above all she must engage in private prayer, ‘with inclination of her spirit and body,’ and practise fasting and alms giving. She must always stay within the castle (‘en casa’), and honour God exactly as she would love her own natural father (Part 2, Cap. 6, p. 95). She should honour God by observing his feast days and those of his saints, by hearing solemn masses and good sermons, and by attending vespers and the canonical hours. Fray Martín’s account of the wisdom of famous women begins with the Erythraean and Cumaean sibyls, the former prophesying the coming of Jesus Christ ‘in the flesh’ (‘en carne’) (Part 3, Cap. 1, p. 102). It is clear from these two treatises that we are being introduced to the devotional practices attributed to Eleonora by Florentine witnesses; that is, to the enclosed world of Spanish female devotional mysticism focused on petitionary prayer. From an Italian viewpoint, Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti (c. 1445– 1510) noted in his Gynevera de le clare donne (1493) the extreme case of the

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Spanish-born Isabel of Aragon, queen of Naples, who had turned her ‘royal home’ (‘regia casa’) at the Castel Nuovo into ‘a veritable monastery,’ with offices, prayers, masses, fasting and ascetic practices, such as the wearing of sackcloth.13 Giacomo Filippo Foresti da Bergamo, in the 1497 edition of his De claris mulieribus, documents similar practices by Queen Isabella the Catholic, guardian of Eleonora’s mother, in her ‘most beautiful oratory’, where she observed the divine office like the ordained clergy and poured out continuous prayer and supplications to God. During the seige of Granada, Queen Isabella had sixteen holy masses of different saints said daily, all of which she heard devoutly, shedding her tears for the blessings of God and for the Passion of Jesus Christ.14 Lucio Marineo Siculo, in a book owned by Eleonora’s father, records that Isabella employed only the best clergy to celebrate liturgy and devotions in her oratorio privado. She commissioned votive prayer, using it to marshall heavenly support for the royal armies against the Moors at Granada.15 Queen Isabella speaks of her private pantheon of divine advocates in her last testament, a document widely read in Spain. Awaiting her soul in heaven with the Virgin stands the ‘angelical knight,’ the archangel Michael, and St John the Evangelist, her ‘special advocate,’ as beloved disciple of Jesus and ‘tailed and bright eagle, to whom [God’s] highest mysteries and secrets were most loftily revealed,’ both of whom will intervene at the hour of her death and at judgement. Also present are her ‘special guardian and protector,’ St Francis, and the glorious doctor of the church, St Jerome.16 The archangel Michael, ‘prince of the angelical cavalry’ will receive and defend her soul from the cruel beast and ancient serpent who will wish to devour it. Santiago, the patron saint of the Spanish military order of St James of the Sword, the Moor Slayer, of which Don Pedro became comendador, is also prominent in the will.17 13

Sabadino degli Arienti, Gynevera, pp. 248–253. Foresti, De plurimus claris … mulieribus, f. clviiiv. 15 Marineo Siculo, De rebus Hispaniae memorabilibus, quoted in Rodríguez Valencia, Isabel la Católica, 1:201–203. Rodríguez Valencia also quotes from the Castilian translation published in Alcalá de Henares in 1539, which apparently was in Don Pedro’s library, according to the inventory compiled at his death in 1553; that inventory is now in Madrid, Archivo Histórico Nacional (henceforth, AHN), Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3 Inventario de los bienes del marqués de Villafranca, and the books are listed at ff. 18v–21v. Don Pedro’s library is studied by Hernando Sánchez in his ‘Poder y cultura’ and in his Castilla, pp. 476– 494, esp. p. 483. 16 Meseguar Fernández, ‘Isabel la Católica.’ In Spain the cult of St Jerome was closely connected with the development of the Jeronimite order; see Sigüenza, Historia de la Orden; Revuelta Somalo, Los Jerónimos; and Highfield, ‘The Jeronimites in Spain.’ 17 Isabella I, Testamento, pp. 13–14, 16. 14

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Isabella’s missal from the Capilla Real at Granada shows her kneeling with a prayer book in her hands before St John the Evangelist, from whom she receives benediction.18 Her Jeronimite confessor, Fray Hernando de Talavera, composed a treatise in praise of St John, the queen’s ‘singular patron and advocate,’ for Isabella, the Breve tractado más devoto y sotil de loores del bienaventurado Sant Juam Evangelista.19 In her private chapel, which Isabella had filled with trophies and standards from the victory at Granada, the queen had a panel of St John on Patmos and an altarpiece of St Michael.20 In the Franciscan monastery, St John of the Reyes Católicos in Toledo, which she founded in memory of her father’s devotion to the evangelist,21 she installed the royal arms sustained by the talons of St John’s eagle, repeated five times on each side of the transept walls.22 In 1503 Isabella ordered a ‘rich’ tapestry for devoçion depicting a central Madonna and Child flanked by St Francis displaying his stigmata ‘with open hands,’ a St Michael ‘fighting with el enemigo (the devil) whom he holds beneath his feet,’ St Jerome with his lion beside him, and St John the Evangelist with ‘the chalice of the snake.’23 That is, with the same four saints whom Eleonora chose to inhabit the heavenly realm of the vault of her chapel in Florence. Isabella gathered with her into her private chapel and bedroom the aristocratic girls of the court, including Eleonora’s mother. She slept with them, tutored them, shaped their devotional practices into a distinctively Spanish militaristic mode, and, when necessary, took responsibility for their dowries.24 A widely read devotional book known to Isabella (it was translated into Castilian by her confessor, Talavera, and she owned two manuscript copies) and probably to both Eleonora and her mother, was Françesc Eixeménis’ treatise, De natura angelica, composed by the Catalan Franciscan in 1392 and first 18 Domínguez Casas, Arte y etiqueta, p. 118. On the iconography of St John the Evangelist in one of Isabella’s books of hours, see de Winter, ‘A Book of Hours,’ p. 344. 19 Escritores misticos, 1:xiii, n. 2. 20 Reyes y mecenas, p. 46. See also, Gallego y Burin, La Capilla Real, pp. 80, 91; Ruiz Alcón, ‘Los Arcángels.’ On St Michael altarpieces, see Sobré, Behind the Altar Table, pp. 31, 58–59, 65, 192, 203. 21 Ballesteros Gaibrois, La obra de Isabel, p. 137. 22 Reyes y mecenas, p. 118; Proske, Castilian Sculpture, p. 141; Domínguez Casas, ‘San Juan de los Reyes.’ 23 Sánchez Canton, Libros, pp. 114–115. Isabel also possessed two other tapestry paños de devoçion of St Jerome ordered in 1505, a painting on linen in her bedroom (recámara) depicting Moses receiving the law, and a manuscript in Spanish entitled Ystoria de Moysen (Sánchez Canton, Libros, pp. 115, 174 and 56 respectively). 24 Rodríguez Valencia, Isabel la Católica, 1:73, 83, 158. According to Juan-Alfonso de Polanco (1516–77) in his Vita Ignatii Loioliae, 2:176, Eleonora di Toledo looked after the women of her court in a similar manner.

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published in Castilian in 1490.25 Janet Cox-Rearick astutely noted that Bronzino’s St Michael on Eleonora’s chapel vault has an ‘emblematic, decorative flatness,’ which I suggest may have been dictated to Bronzino by the woodcut frontispiece in his patron’s Burgos (1516) edition of this book. In Eiximénis’ text, it is through Michael’s arte angelical that God forms the cloud that conceals the chosen people from Pharaoh’s cavalry and parts the Red Sea, drowning Pharaoh.26 Michael is the angelical guarda of the Jews. The Crossing is an example of his power. He bears in his person the ‘royal honour.’ He is the ‘special prince,’ set above the other angels and held in tanta reverencia by them. He has the standing (fecho), excellence and authority to speak personally with God. He has the duty of rescuing souls from the devil and of giving an account of these to God (f. 84r). At the final judgement St Michael will have the honour of bearing the cross, nails and lance of the Passion (f. 104v). Then he will take ‘public vengeance’ on the enemies of Christ, and cast them down into hell forever (f. 89r). Yet, he will act as supplicant for God’s pity over the souls still on earth who have most need of mercy and grace. St Michael sent the eclipse of the sun and earthquake at the moment of Christ’s death: he appeared with an infinite multitude of angels to bear away Christ’s spirit to Hell and then to his royal throne in heaven (f. 89v). Michael also created the great mountain at Averna, in Italy, with its abyss and widely scattered rocks and stones; it was here that the crucified Christ appeared to St Francis, giving him the stigmata of his holy Passion (f. 89v).27 He is crowned with a royal crown and holds a beautiful cross and, as in Bronzino’s fresco, a resplendent naked sword (f. 84r). Eiximénis has the Spanish princes ask St Michael what will become of their realms: he prophesies lengthy suffering under the Moors, but eventually, he predicts, these cruel enemies and ‘terrible killers’ will be wearied and annihilated forever along with their Mahomedan sect, as is stated in the mysteries of the Sixth Seal in the Apocalypse of St John the Evangelist (f. 102v). Of special interest, in view of Eleonora’s choice of the Lamentation as her altarpiece subject, with a pair of angels prominent in the foreground bearing a chalice and a veil, is Eiximénis’ emphasis on how the holy angels display extreme reverencia for the ‘precious body of Jesus Christ.’ During the celebration of the mass one must exhibit humility and contemplate Christ’s great love for humanity, displaying ‘honour and reverence’ especially during the elevation of the host (f. 100r). 25

See Andrés Ivars, ‘El Libre dels àngels’; Viera, ‘La obra de Francesc Eiximenis.’ Eiximénis, De natura angelica, f. 23v. 27 As Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 318, notes, Eleonora visited La Verna in the summer of 1540, praying to St Francis for a son by Cosimo and vowing to name him Francesco, as she subsequently did. 26

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Eleonora’s mother’s library probably perished in the fire that destroyed several rooms of the viceregal apartments in the Castel Nuovo in March 1540.28 No inventory of her books has come to light. Eleonora’s father’s library, consisting of some 175 books, however, was still in the camera del parco at the Castel Nuovo in Naples at his death in 1553.29 Whether Don Pedro’s books collected before 1540 were lost in the fire or not, this was unquestionably a significant library, both in size and content.30 Spanish aristocrats married jousting and warfare with an often profound personal religious devotion. Don Pedro was such a battle-hardened soldier ready to die for his lineage and emperor in defence of the realm and the Christian faith.31 Not surprisingly, he also collected books about himself and his lineage, works generated by the humanist scholars in the service of the empire, such as Lucio Marineo Siculo.32 Don Pedro’s library contained The Impregnable Castle (Castillo inexpugnable) by Fray Gonzalo de Arredondo y Alvarado. From its title the work seems to be a manual on how to build defensible fortresses,33 but in fact, it is a work ‘about the sally (yda) against the Turk, enemy of our holy Catholic faith.’ The prologue urges Emperor Charles V to be conscious of his courageous prototype, El Cid, to weep for the abominations and desolations, murders and captivities visited upon Christians by the ‘filthy, cruel Turkish enemy’ (sign. aiir–aivr). The author pleads for a crusade to fight to the death to free the Holy Land, just as Spain was freed of the Moors. Fray Gonzalo refers to the great sufferings occasioned by the Turkish occupations of Buda, Belgrade and Rhodes in 1527; to the rape of virgins and widows, to the destruction of churches and images. The dialogue that follows such a prologue has among its interlocutors Eleonora’s uncle, the Duke of Alba, Don Alonso Pimentel, Don Pedro Osorio, Don Fernando de Toledo, Don Fray Francisco de Toledo, Alonso Osorio and Eleonora’s father, Don Pedro de Toledo. The latter is made to argue that Islam is an ‘abominable and detestable sect’ founded by a ‘bestial and depraved’ Mohammed and to ridicule the Koran (sign. eiir). The Empress Isabella, who married Emperor Charles V in 1526, identifies the contempo28

Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 529. Madrid, AHN, Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3, Inventario, ff. 18v–12v. As Hernando Sánchez rightly notes (Castilla, p. 477), eighty-nine of the texts appear to be in castellano. 30 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 476–494 gives the fullest account of the library. 31 In 1512 Don Pedro fought with the Duke of Alba at Navarre; Raneo, Libro, p. 111. On his career before the Naples appointment see Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 70–78, 483. 32 See Rummel, ‘Marineo Sículo.’ 33 Hernando Sánchez was misled by the book’s title in both his ‘Poder y cultura,’ p. 20 and his Castilla, p. 479. 29

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rary persecution of Christians by the Turks as another in the series of tribulations of the chosen people (sign. eiiiv). There is a lengthy analysis of the battle for Rhodes, where the Hospitallers, the order of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Turks (sign. eivr–v).34 Don Pedro sympathizes with the defenders’ bravery, as well he might, given that his younger brother, Don Diego, was Prior of the order. Chief among the spiritual weapons available for use against the Turk, Arredondo points out, is prayer, ‘with which the enemy is perforated.’ Prayer provides ‘the brassarts (upper-arm armour) of fortitude and the lance of forbearance,’ weapons to defend the soul against becoming pusillanimous should the war be lengthy (sign. evr). St Michael’s victory over the Antichrist in St John’s Apocalypse (12,7–8) is linked to an Augustinian reading of the mysteries of the incarnation and redemption through Christ’s Passion. Charles V’s sister, Leonor of Austria, is given an important discourse on how the deeds of Moses prefigure the events of Christ’s life and passion (sign. Iiv). According to Arredondo, the crossing of the Red Sea marks the extinction of all sinners and prefigures the baptism of Christ reddening the water with his blood (sign. Iiiv). Arredondo makes the sweet waters Moses strikes from the rock at Horeb the divine inspiration and grace effected by the ‘beatific holy cross and lordly wood, and bitter waters to the infidels’ (sign. Iivr). Prayer that rises to heaven to reach the ears of God allows one to join forces with Moses, David and others who overcame their enemies. Prayer is especially helpful ‘in the defence of the holy Catholic faith, in succouring those sorely afflicted and captives of the Turks’ (sign. Iivr). Charles V should mobilize against the Turks and Moors so that they might be ‘submerged with Pharaoh’ (Caps. lxiii–lxviii). As Viceroy of the Kingdom of Naples Don Pedro assumed responsibilities as patron and protector of religion and its public observance in ritual.35 His chapel in the Castel Nuovo was beautifully appointed with silver liturgical implements, some gilded, some also figured.36 As a soldier he travelled with a portable cappella reale, with altar and tabernacle, with sacred devotional pictures and fine brocade liturgical garments, and with a missal covered in silver cloth.37 Every day he recited the office of the Order of Santiago,38 two 34 Arredondo uses Jacobus Fontanus, La muy lamentable conquista y cruenta batalla de Rhodas (Seville, 1526) as his source; see Carlos V y su epoca, p. 58. 35 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 437–466, provides an impressive account of such responsibilities. I offer my own conclusions drawn from archival and chronicle sources. 36 Madrid, AHN, Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3, Inventario, ff. 16r–17r. 37 Madrid, AHN, Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3, Inventario, ff. 21v–22r; Miccio, ‘Vita,’ p. 88. 38 Miccio, ‘Vita,’ p. 88. See also Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 75, and Moral, El Virrey, p. 9.

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copies of which graced his library. Its woodcut frontispiece shows two Moors armed with kilics being slaughtered by a Spanish knight. The Oración al angel that appears in the order’s devocionario calls upon the angel of God to help the knight destroy all his enemies.39 Don Pedro coordinated the defence of southern Italy against the Turkish fleets and armies. In July 1533 Eleonora’s brothers Fadrique and Garcia fought with Andrea Doria to relieve Coron from the Turks.40 Shortly after Eleonora arrived in Naples, in June 1534, Süleyman’s admiral Barbarossa raided nearby Fundi, intending to capture the beautiful Giulia Gonzaga as a present for the sultan’s harem. The fleet passed within sight of Naples, creating terror in the city.41 In the same year Barbarossa’s troops sacked Santo Lucito in Calabria.42 In 1535 Charles V launched an expedition against the Turks at Tunis.43 Don Pedro sent two of Eleonora’s brothers to fight, along with the young Don Antonio of Aragon, who, it is said by a witness, ‘loved’ Eleonora ‘tenderly.’44 In 1537 Süleyman landed 200 000 troops in southern Italy. Don Pedro formed Spanish light cavalry units supported by Italian infantry and local militias: in Naples 10 000 guarded the walls.45 Pedro Mexía (1496?–1552?), in his Forest of Various Readings (1540), a book owned by Eleonora’s father, interpreted the Turkish invasion as divine chastisement of Christians, similar to the testing suffered by the Hebrews at the hands of their Old Testament enemies.46 Don Pedro harassed the Turks enough to cause their withdrawal towards the seige of Corfu. Susan Bell has noted that mediaeval women’s books were chosen by mothers and transported across Europe by their married-off daughters. Although Catherine of Aragon, wife of King Henry VIII, was competent in English, she begged for a Spanish Franciscan confessor. Not surprisingly, she advised her daughter Mary to study the Vita Christi of Ludolph of Saxony (c. 1300–78) and St Jerome’s letters, two of the most widely diffused devotional texts in Spain after 1490.47 Eleonora’s father owned Montesino’s four-volume Castil39

Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional, Ms. 172, Consueta, f. 18v. Moral, El Virrey, Chapter 3, pp. 99–160 and Miccio, ‘Vita,’ p. 24; Rosso, Historia, quoted in Pedio, Napoli, p. 319. 41 Miccio, ‘Vita,’ p. 24; Rosso, Historia, pp. 102–103; Merriman, Suleiman, p. 213; Oliva, Giulia Gonzaga, p. 163. 42 Rosso, Historia, quoted in Pedio, Napoli, 321. 43 Sánchez Montes, Franceses, Protestantes, Turcos, pp. 40, 97; Moral, El Virrey, pp. 160– 216; Horn, Jan/Cornelisz Vermeyen, pp. 11–13. 44 Castaldo, Vida, f. 153v. 45 Miccio, ‘Vita,’ p. 29. 46 Mexía, Silva, 1:292–293. 47 Luke, Catherine, pp. 82, 449. On the Vita Christi in Spanish spirituality see Bataillon, Érasme, p. 48; Cuesta Gutiérrez, ‘La edición de las obras del Tostado.’ 40

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ian translation of Ludolph. The preface praises Ferdinand and Isabel ‘for having resisted time and again the fierce and bloody hand of the Turks and infidels who waged cruel war by land and sea with mighty armadas and numerous armies.’48 Of Eleonora’s own devotional books we have so far heard only of the Victoria and Albert Museum’s illuminated Book of Hours completed 10 February 1541,49 which, apart from its familial arms and Medici dynastic references in the decoration, bears no personal traces of devotion, and the Libriccino della madonna in lingua spagnuola that Padre Pietro Paolo Galeotti had made for Eleonora in 1561, cited by Baia.50 To these I would add as books probably owned and used by Eleonora five more Spanish language prayer books listed in the Medici guardaroba: Las Horas de nuestra Señora segundo el uso Romano (Leon, 1531), containing additional prayers and the Rosary; Horas de nuestra Señora de los finados dela cruz y del sposition los siete psalmos y otras muchas devotiones (n.p., 1534); Horas devotissimas y contemplativas de la sacratissima passion de nuestro Redentor J. Christo (Seville, 1540); a small Devocionario in sedicesimo, ‘containing many prayers’; a manuscript Oracion devotissima a Nuestro Señor et Nuestra Señora; and possibly also an Evangelio di S. Giovanni tradotto in Toscano dedicated to Eleonora.51 A Spanish book in the Medici inventory of particular interest for the Eleonora chapel iconography is Los doze Triumphos de Los doze Apostolos (The Twelve Triumphs of the Twelve Apostles) by the Carthusian Jean de Padilla, first printed at Seville in 1521.52 A work based on the Acts of the Apostles but composed under the spell of Dante’s cosmography, the Triumphos gives John the Evangelist singular importance as author of a profoundly mystical text and as the disciple most pure and worthy of the Virgin’s spiritual maternity. Padilla describes St John in triumph, holding his ‘book of the divine word’ and accompanied by his ‘pure eagle,’ the bird of contemplation, which has its eyes fixed on the light of the rising sun.53 Each of Bronzino’s figures on the chapel vault is crowned with the golden, glowing sun that 48 Quoted in Leturia, Iñigo de Loyola, p. 85. Pedro Ximénez de Préxano, Lucero de la vida christiana (Salamanca, 1493), prologue, dedicated to Ferdinand and Isabel, reproduced in Vindel, El arte tipográfico, p. 52, begins with the servitude of the chosen people under Pharaoh. 49 Described by Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 37–40, and p. 356, n. 55. I have inspected a microfilm and thank the museum staff for sending me the catalogue entry. 50 Baia, Leonora, p. 67. 51 Florence, Archivio di Stato (henceforth, ASF), Guardaroba Medicea, 235.3 Inventario de libri, ff. 1r–24v. 52 Florence, ASF, Guardaroba Medicea 235.3, Inventario, f. 24v. I follow Darbord, La poésie religieuse, pp. 132–139 in identifying the Dantesque intellectual roots of the work. 53 Padilla, Triumphos, quote in Dabord, p. 139.

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surrounds the central medallion, originally bearing the Medici and Toledo arms. The special proximity of this sacred pantheon to the divine light of God is thus represented, but with unique appropriateness for John, inspired author of ‘holy perfect doctrine,’ as Padilla describes him (p. 139). From 1496 onwards, the Passion according to St John appeared in printed Castilian Hours of the Blessed Virgin Mary more frequently than in any other Hours printed across Europe.54 Similarly, the Exodus miracles on Eleonora’s chapel walls are more strongly represented in the Passion Week texts of the Mozarabic liturgical books promoted by Toledo’s Cardinal Cisneros than in contemporary Roman ones.55 Pedro Ciruelo (1470–1554), dean of the cathedral chapter at Toledo, writing on the Mass in 1500, interpreted the Easter Thursday and Friday liturgy in terms of the Babylonian and Egyptian captivities, as well as of the Turkish acquisition of Constantinople, Hungary and Poland and the Muslim occupation of the Holy Land.56 Images of the deeds of Moses are particularly numerous in Spanish royal and aristocratic inventories of pictures and tapestries in the sixteenth century.57 There is an Italian devotional source that might also have been used to construct the Exodus narratives of the Bronzino chapel, an anonymous Italian Franciscan observant work diffused through mainland Italy and Sicily in the Quattrocento that saw six printed editions between Venice 1493 and Florence 1524: the Monte delle orazione.58 This treatise offers its lay readership a monastic model for contemplative prayer that will guide the soul’s ascent to mystical union with God. Eleonora may have owned a copy, but I think it more likely that Pierfrancesco Riccio drew her attention to it. Perhaps that is why, apart from his importance as Cosimo’s tutor and protector in his childhood, Riccio is represented in the Crossing of the Red Sea fresco.59 The portion dealing with the Moses narratives is an exposition of a theory of 54

Leturia, Estudios Ignacianos, 2:128. I have compared the occurrence of Exodus texts in the Missale Mixtum secundum regulam beati Isidori published in 1500 with Robert Lippe’s edition of the Missale Romanum published in Milan in 1474. On Cisneros’ reforms and the Missale Mixtum, see Bosch, Art, Liturgy, and Legend, p. 62. 56 Ciruelo, Expositio, f. clxixv. 57 Sánchez Canton, Libros, p. 174; Domínguez Rodríguez, Libros de horas, pp. 52–55, 264; Perez Pastor, ‘Inventario,’ pp. 291–292; Cavallo, Medieval Tapestries, p. 552, n. 22. 58 Casapullo, Munti, is the most important study of the Italian work and of its diffusion. There is also an anonymous Spanish version, the Monte de la contemplación (Seville, 1534) where, at sign. Avir, the author emotively uses the verse ‘Foderunt manus meas et pedes meos’ (Psalm 22,17) that we also find inscribed in Eleonora’s chapel beneath the figure of King David. 59 Riccio’s library inventory has not come to light. On Riccio, see most recently, Cecchi, ‘Il maggiordomo ducale.’ 55

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prayer and its efficacy. I have found no other Italian devotional treatise of the period that contains such a developed Moses theme. And its order of narratives coincides exactly with those in Eleonora’s chapel, including Moses’ appointment of Joshua, which is represented within the Crossing fresco. Briefly, the author argues that Moses discovered experientially that victory over his people’s enemies occurred only when he succeeded in combining perseverance and petitionary prayer. His successor Joshua learned the same lesson. A description of three modes of prayer then introduces an account of how the individual episodes of the Moses histories can be contemplated. Perseverance in prayer in the face of sustained slavery, such as the Israelites experienced under Pharaoh, is the model for the reader’s approach to prayer in her daily life. A merciful God allows the chosen people to cross the Red Sea, which signifies the ‘deep suffering of strong deliberation’ in which Pharaoh and his people drown. The harsh desert that follows is another stage of tribulation that prepares the soul for the ‘perfect liberty of the spirit’ in the promised land. The manna provided from heaven signifies ‘holy prayer,’ and the soul itself spoils like manna when deprived of daily prayer. Those who murmured against the ‘subtle food’ were bad prayers, who suffer from tepidness of deliberation. To become bored by this manna of prayer is to slip back into the servitude of Egypt. Those who adored the golden calf, signifying avarice, adored what was corporeally dead, and thus were ‘dead spiritually in their souls.’ The bitter waters of Mara turned sweet by Moses’ rod are rewards open to spiritual persons who wish to leave the Egypt of vices and the cruel kingdom of Pharaoh. The desert of temptations is the battlefield for testing the legitimate cavalieri of Christ. The rod that makes the waters sweet is the memory of the wood of Christ’s passion which eases the pain experienced in prolonged prayer. The approach to contemplative prayer exhibited in this work dovetails with the emphasis on devotional prayer arising from the Exodus events in Spanish books before c. 1540. In Francisco de Osuna’s Spiritual Alphabet (Abecedario espiritual), first published in three parts between 1527 and 1530,60 Moses and St John the Evangelist are linked because Moses also spoke with God face to face and John wrote profoundly of matters touching on Christ’s divinity: furthermore, neither man’s body was to be found (Pt. 1, f. xcviiiv). Prolonged contemplation of the holes made by the nails in Christ’s hands and feet leads to meditation on how Moses is treated like a slave in Pharaoh’s Egypt (Pt. 1, f. cxviv). Meditation of Christ’s wounds introduces the image of Sion as a ploughed field from which the fruits and treasures of the earth are extracted (Pt. 2, f. cxxxviiv). St Francis’s stigmatization on Mount La Verna is said to exemplify 60

On Osuna see Andrés Martín, Los recogidos, pp. 107–167 and ‘Los alumbrados.’

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the secret graces that flow from God to man: we are all baptised in the blood of Christ ‘like in a Red Sea of blood’ (Pt. 3, ff. xxiv–xxiiiv). The manna is the promise of consolation that is not transitory like the promises of everyday life (Pt. 3, f. xxxvir). There is constant emphasis on the role of prayer in petition to God and his saints; Osuna discusses the three modes of prayer – vocal, silent in the heart and mental or spiritual prayer (Pt. 3, ff. cxixv–cxxir). Silent prayer is made in the heart when one is concealed within one’s room or private oratory. Mental or spiritual prayer focuses on Christ’s Passion; its prefigurations in the miracles of Exodus leads the truly devout person through ‘the night of adversity’ to consolation, to the ‘sweet water of devotion’ which Moses made abundant to the chosen people passing through the desert (Pt. 3, ff. clxiir–cxcir). The habit of daily, profoundly focused contemplative prayer to which Eleonora was introduced by her mother and which she would have been encouraged to sustain by using the Spanish devotional texts of the kind her father collected finds its reflection in one prominent, but neglected, visual detail of The Crossing of the Red Sea fresco in her chapel. While it has been suggested that a number of figures in this composition bear probable portrait images, in my view the only definitely identifiable face, until now, was that of Pierfrancesco Riccio, who gazes to his left towards Moses.61 A figure that has not been brought into the discussion about portraits in this fresco, however, is the bearded man kneeling prominently in the foreground, directly beneath Moses’ feet. I suspect that his profil perdu has discouraged attempts to identify him. Why would someone important enough to Eleonora to be given pride of place on her chapel wall be represented in such a fashion? In my view, an explanation can be offered. I believe that this stocky man kneeling humbly on the earth between Moses and Joshua in Bronzino’s Crossing of the Red Sea fresco is Eleonora’s father, Don Pedro de Toledo (Figure 7.1). The figure’s solid proportions and full beard coincide well with the kneeling portrait image of him on his tomb monument in the Neapolitan church of San Giacomo degli Spagnuoli, which the Viceroy had appointed for the devotions of the Spanish expatriates. When we view the sculpted Don Pedro from behind, Bronzino’s Don Pedro comes clearly into view, despite the painter’s restriction of the man’s profile. A further reassuring comparison is a profile view from a similar angle of the bronze portrait of Don Pedro possessed by the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.62 Don Pedro 61 Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 310. On the altarpiece portraits see Pilliod, Pontormo, pp. 24–8. 62 Florentine or Neapolitan work, datable c. 1560–1600; gift of Stanley Mortimer, 1948.15.1, formerly attributed to Giovanni Francesco Rustici as a portrait of Pietro Strozzi. Dr Doug Lewis kindly supplied me with his technical and iconographic report on this work.

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Agnolo Bronzino, The Crossing of the Red Sea, Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Chapel of Eleonora (photo: Archivi Alinari-Firenze)

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initiated the commission of his tomb, which he intended to be shipped back to Villafranca for his eventual interment there, shortly after the death of Maria’s mother in 1539, most likely between 1540–46.63 It is Eleonora’s mother, Maria Osorio Pimentel, and not Don Pedro’s second bride, the Italian Vicenza Spinelli, who kneels alongside Don Pedro on the sepulchral monument. She is completely draped in her cloak and holds a small book in her left hand, her fingers marking two separate places in the text. Her eyes are on the book, but the eyelids only partly open, suggesting the profoundly devout state of contemplation recommended for a woman’s prayer in Spanish devotional texts. Don Pedro wears a battle tunic with chain mail and has a cloak thrown over his right shoulder. His left hand rests on his eagle-headed sword haft. He holds a small book in his right hand and gazes straight ahead, apparently rapt in prayer. His massive lion-headed battle helmet rests prominently between him and his wife. These kneeling, prayerful poses adopted by the Spanish nobility in Naples are derived from sepulchral monuments developed in Castile during the fifteenth century by the lineages of both Eleonora’s parents, and used in exemplary fashion by Ferdinand and Isabella in the Capilla Real at Granada.64 The Reyes Católicos chose Granada as their city of burial chiefly because it ‘was conquered and taken from the power and subjection of the infidel Moors, enemies of our Holy Catholic Faith.’65 The prayer of women was thought to have played a part in that victory. The praying-figure tomb iconography continues long after Don Pedro’s monument, being followed by Pompeo Leone in his sepulchral monuments at the Escorial for the families of both Emperor Charles V and King Philip II. The Spanish nobility bear witness in these monuments to being remembered in the present life as persons accustomed to continuous, devout and decorous acts of prayer.66 In Bronzino’s Crossing of the Red Sea, the kneeling man wears a Spanish garment, the sayo, with leather reinforcement across the shoulders, and soft leather boots: both items of clothing recorded at Don Pedro’s death in the inventory of his personal belongings.67 His golden hat has been colour-keyed 63 The monument was completed after Don Pedro’s death by Giovanni da Nola and his collaborators. See Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 535; de Vargas Machuca, La Reale Pontificia Basilica; Tav. 15 gives a back view of Don Pedro comparable with Bronzino’s portrait; another significant back view is published on the cover of Napoli Sacra. 64 Proske, Castilian Sculpture, pp. 74, 174, 193, 335, 382. 65 Cited in Reyes y mecenas, p. 118. 66 von der Osten Sacken, El Escorial, p. 56, interprets the kneeling figures as being ‘ante el sacramento del altar en adoración perpetua.’ 67 Madrid, AHN, Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3, Inventario, f. 10r–v. The inventory lists personal effects Don Pedro had brought to Florence that were subsequently returned to Naples after his death. From the inventory we learn that he owned oilskin and chamois leather boots in various

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with Moses’ garment and Joshua’s hair, but still resembles a Spanish helmet.68 Don Pedro took the opportunity of imperial business at Lucca to visit Eleonora in September 1541, the very month in which, as Janet Cox-Rearick tells us, Bronzino began to paint the Crossing.69 Eleonora’s brother Luis had an apartment in her quarters and kept portraits of Don Pedro on the walls.70 A contemporary historian records Don Pedro saying that Eleonora and his son Garcia, being naturally inclined to a proud bearing, were the children of his blood, and that Eleonora’s older sister Isabel and son Don Fadrique were his ‘stepchildren,’ that is, that his wife’s family’s blood flowed in their veins.71 Medici archival sources prove that from the moment Eleonora left Naples in 1539 until Don Pedro went out of his way to visit her in 1541, he was tortured by her absence, daily pestering Cosimo’s agent Musefilo for news of her fragile health, for letters from her, and offering urgent medical advice for her illnesses. He wanted to verify that his favourite daughter’s health was sound and he wanted to see his grandchild.72 When he did visit in September 1541 she, as a testament to her deep affection, accompanied him all the way to Arezzo before allowing him to depart for Naples.73 Eleonora’s devotional practices were probably modelled on those inculcated in her by her mother, but her fierce, mutual love for her soldier father and her awareness of his sacredly commissioned guardianship of Spanish women from the terror of the Turks were powerful realities in her mind, nourished by the uniquely militaristic, anti-Islamic readings of Exodus fostered by contemporary Spanish devotional texts. Don Pedro owned a captured Damascus scimitar just like the one depicted in the right foreground of the Crossing of the Red Sea.74 Its presence as a trophy near the portrait of Don colours, and several examples of the sayo in blue, black and tawny colours, but not white. On the sayo, or jerkin, see Anderson, Hispanic Costume, pp. 45–52. 68 At f. 14r the inventory lists several gilded helmets. 69 Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 62. On Don Pedro’s visit in September 1541, see Foronda y Aguilera, Estancias, p. 498, and Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 131. 70 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 140–141. 71 Castaldo, Vida, f. 166r. See Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 138, on the Spanish names given to Eleonora’s children. 72 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, pp. 129–130. One may add the letters from 12 October 1539 to 28 February 1540 (Florence, ASF, Mediceo del Principato, 4068), where Don Pedro’s daily anxieties about Eleonora’s welfare are documented. The suffering (pena) he experienced when Eleonora fell ill after the birth of her daughter Maria in April 1540 is clear from 10 April 1540 onwards (Florence, ASF, Mediceo del Principato, 4070): by 20 June Don Pedro was offering medical advice to her physicians. 73 Cini, Vita, f. viv. 74 Madrid, AHN, Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3, Inventario, f. 17v. Some of the headwear in Bronzino’s Crossing of the Red Sea is closer to contemporary Moorish than to Turkish costume.

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Pedro, who kneels before the victorious general Moses as he would kneel with his wife on his funerary monument, devoutly in prayer before the emperor of emperors, signifies Eleonora’s trust in her father’s (and her brothers’) protection, achieved through military prowess and incessant prayer.75 The narrative reliefs on Don Pedro’s sepulchral monument show him personally leading troops against the Turks at Otranto in 1538, and against Barbarossa’s naval invasion at Baia in 1544, wielding the sword he holds in his portrait image on the tomb.76 As in the knightly romance Amadís of Gaul, universally read by the Spanish aristocracy, Eleonora could daily gaze in her chapel at her father kneeling before Moses, as Princess Oriana ‘gazed fixedly’ at King Perion, father of the heroic Amadís: And well she recognized that that man deserved to be the father of such sons [as Amadís], and with much justice was praised … throughout the world as one of the best knights … and she was so comforted on seeing him, that if the love that she had for her own father … had not been so great, she would not have cared had the whole world been against her, as long as she had on her side such a father and the troops that he expected to command. (my italics)77

Eleonora’s father invited the Jesuits to Naples in 1539 to preach to his soldiers and, later, to counter the influence, especially among the aristocratic women of the city, of the heretical preacher Juan de Valdes.78 Don Pedro also encouraged the Spanish-speaking Jesuits to approach Eleonora with a view to acquiring her patronage in Tuscany. Early in 1547 the Jesuit Juan Alfonso de Polanco rashly proposed to Eleonora a devotional regime which aroused the anger of an already suspicious Duke Cosimo. In his report to his superiors of May 1547, Polanco suggested that Eleonora was most accessible through her father, Don Pedro.79 The more subtle Diego Laínez, a spiritual adviser to whom Eleonora became passionately attached in the following years, replaced Polanco and, with his successor Diego de Guzman, changed the emphasis of her devotional practices towards the Jesuit model.80 This, howBronzino probably saw Moors and trophies of the battle of Tunis in the triumphal entry of Emperor Charles V at Siena; Carlo Quinto in Siena, pp. 50–51. On Turkish costume as represented in the West in this period, see Marlier, La Renaissance flamande, pp. 55–74; St Clair, The Image of the Turk; and Topkapi & Turkomanie. 75 Cavriana records that Eleonora exhibited a manly pietas in watching over the safety of the male members of her family; Cosmi Medicis … vita, f. 27v. 76 The scenes precisely identified by Borelli, Memorie, p. 62. 77 Amadís of Gaul, Book IV, chapter CV, p. 429. 78 Hernando Sánchez, Castilla, p. 461; Loyola, Letters to Women, p. 94; Nieto, Juan de Valdes, pp. 142–148. 79 Polanci Complementa, 1:20–29, 2:832. 80 Scaduto, L’epoca di Giacomo Lainez, 1:139–157.

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ever, was firmly based in the Spanish traditions of sustained private prayer with which Eleonora was deeply familiar. Laínez also favoured military metaphors in his theoretical expositions of prayer.81 When Don Pedro was brought to Florence on 22 February 1553, dying of a fever he had contracted during the campaign to subdue Siena, he was accompanied by his second wife, Vincenza Spinelli. After the Jesuit Laínez had administered the last rites, he passed away in Eleonora’s and Vincenza’s arms.82 Lorenzo Cini, the later pro-Medicean biographer of Cosimo, observed in the manner of the day that it was probably the change of air that laid Don Pedro low, but added that others attributed his demise to his inappropriately robust sexual interest in his beautiful and much younger wife.83 Eleonora’s grief at the loss of her beloved father must have been traumatic. The anti-Medicean chronicler Antonio da Sangallo records that on the night her father died she gave birth to a daughter.84 One can imagine that Bronzino’s portrait image of Don Pedro in The Crossing of the Red Sea fresco gained a fresh poignancy for Eleonora in the nine years that remained to her after her father’s death. La Trobe University Melbourne, Australia

Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence. Archivio di Stato (ASF) Guardaroba Medicea, 235.3 Inventario de libri toscani, francesi, tedeschi, spagnuoli che si ritrovano in Guardaroba di S.A.S. (dated 1574, with additions from 1590 on ff. 13v and 18v) Mediceo del Principato, 4068, 4070

81

See Laínez, Lectio 21, using Wisdom 5:19–21, in his Disputationes, 1:549. Bulifon, Giornali; Tommaso Costo cited in Collenuccio, Compendio 3:39; Polanco, Vita Ignatii, 3:57. 83 Cini, Vita, sign. Aa3r. 84 I record this not from the original manuscript in the Biblioteca Marucelliana (to which I could not gain access), but from a summary of an excerpt attached to a letter written to Grand Duchess Christine of Lorraine cited in the nineteenth-century handwritten alphabetical catalogue to ASF, Mediceo del Principato, sub voce ‘Sangallo, Antonio’; the original is in ASF, Mediceo, 5994. The daughter was Anna; see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 413, n. 78. 82

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Florence. Biblioteca Riccardiana. Fondo Moreni. Acquisti diversi, 154. Filippo Cavriana, Cosmi Medicis Magni Hetruriae Ducis vita et res gestae Madrid. Archivo Histórico Nacional (AHN) Ms. Osuna, Leg. 425.3 Inventario de los bienes del marqués de Villafranca Madrid. Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid Ms. 172. Consueta y devocionario para uso de la Orden Militar de Santiago Ms. 2986. Antonino Castaldo, Vida de Don Pedro de Toledo

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Casapullo, Rosa. Munti della santissima oracioni. Palermo: Centro di Studi filologici e linguistici siciliani, 1995. Cavallo, Adolfo Salvatore. Medieval Tapestries in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art/H.N. Abrams, 1993. Cecchi, Alessandro. ‘Il maggiordomo ducale Pierfrancesco Riccio e gli artisti della corte Medicea,’ Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 42:1 (1998), pp. 115–143. Christiaens, Jean. ‘Alonso de Madrid. Contribution à sa biographie et à l’histoire de ses écrits,’ Les Lettres Romanes 9 (1955), pp. 251–268, 439–462. Cini, Giovambattista. Vita del Serenissimo Signor Cosimo de’ Medici Primo Gran Duca di Toscana. Florence: I Giunti, 1611. Ciruelo, Pedro. Expositio libri missalis peregregia. Alcalá de Henares: Universitate Complutensi/M. de Aguia, 1528. Collenuccio, Pandolfo. Compendio dell’Istoria del Regno di Napoli di Pandolfo Collenuccio, di Mambrino Roseo da Fabriano, e di Tommaso Costo Napolitano. 2 vols. Naples: Appresso i Giunti, 1613. Coniglio, Giuseppe. Il viceregno di don Pietro di Toledo (1532–53). Naples: Giannini, 1984. Cortest, Luis. ‘Fray Alonso de Madrid, the Arte para servir a Dios and SixteenthCentury Religious Literature,’ Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 65:4 (1988), pp. 369–382. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Bronzino’s Chapel of Eleonora in the Palazzo Vecchio. California Studies in the History of Art, 29. Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993. Cuesta Gutiérrez, L. ‘La edición de las obras del Tostado, empresa de la corona española,’ Revista de archivos, bibliotecas y museos 66 (1950), pp. 321–324. Darbord, Michel. La poésie religieuse espagnole dès rois catholiques à Philippe II. Paris: Centre de recherches de l’Institut d’études hispaniques, 1965. de Vargas Machuca, Giuseppe. La Reale Pontificia Basilica di San Giacomo degli Spagnoli. Naples: R. Hermandad de Nobles Españoles de Santiago, 1991. de Winter, Patrick M. ‘A Book of Hours of Queen Isabel la Católica,’ Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 67:10 (1981), pp. 342–427. Domínguez Casas, Rafael. ‘San Juan de los Reyes. Espacio funerario y aposento regio,’ Boletin del Seminario de Estudios de Arte y Arqueologia 56 (1990), pp. 364–383. Domínguez Casas, Rafael. Arte y etiqueta de los Reyes Católicos. Artistas, residencias, jardines y bosques. Madrid: Alpuerto, 1993. Domínguez Rodríguez, Ana. Libros de horas del siglo XV en la Biblioteca Nacional. Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española Bellas Artes, 1979. Edelstein, Bruce L. Review of Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel in The Art Bulletin 76 (1994), pp. 171–175. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Nobildonne napoletane e committenza: Eleonora d’Aragona ed Eleonora di Toledo a confronto,’ Quaderni Storici 35:2, n. 104 (2000), pp. 295– 329. Edelstein, Bruce L. ‘Bronzino in the Service of Eleonora di Toledo and Cosimo I de’ Medici: Conjugal Patronage and the Painter-Courtier,’ pp. 225–261 in Beyond Isabella. Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy, eds Sheryl E. Reiss and David G. Wilkins. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 54. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Eiximénis, Françesc. De natura angelica. Burgos: por Fadrique de Basilea, 1516.

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Society, 17 and 33. London: Printed for the Society by Harrison and Sons, 1899– 1907. Moral y Perez de Zayas, José María del. El Virrey de Nápoles: Don Pedro de Toledo y la guerra contra el Turco. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1966. Napoli sacra. Guida alle chiese della città. Naples: Elio de Rosa, 1995. Nieto, José C. Juan de Valdes and the Origins of the Spanish and Italian Reformation. Geneva: Droz, 1970. Oliva, Mario. Giulia Gonzaga Colonna: Tra Rinascimento e Controriforma. Milan: Mursia, 1985. Osuna, Francisco de. Primera [- Segunda, Tercera] parte del libro llamado Abecedario espiritual: que trata delas circumstancias dela sagrada passion del hijo de dios. Vol. 1, Saragossa: P. Bernuz y B. de Nagera, 1546; vols 2–3, Burgos: Juan de Junta 1555. Padilla, Jean de. Los doze Triumphos de los doze Apostolos. Seville: por Iuan Varela, 1521. Pedio, Tommaso. Napoli e Spagna nella prima metà del Cinquecento. Bari: F. Cacucci, 1971. Perez Pastor, Cristobal. ‘Inventario de los bienes meubles de la Reina de Hungría, hermana de Carlos V,’ Memorias de la Real Academia Española 11 (1914), pp. 289–314. Pilliod, Elizabeth. Pontormo Bronzino Allori. A Genealogy of Florentine Art. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2001. Polanci Complementa. Epistolae et commentaria P. Joannis Alphonsi de Polanco, 2 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 52, 54. Madrid: Gabrielis Lopez del Horno, 1916–17. Polanco, Juan Alfonso de. Vita Ignatii Loiolae et rerum Societatis Jesu historica [Chronicon]. 6 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11. Madrid: Augustinus Avrial, 1894–98. Proske, Beatrice Gilman. Castilian Sculpture, Gothic to Renaissance. New York: Hispanic Society of America, 1951. Raneo, José. Libro donde se trata de los Vireyes lugartenientes del reino de Nápoles y de las cosas tocantes á su grandeza, ed. D.E. Fernandez de Navarette, vol. 23, pp. 5–575 in Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, ed. Marqués de Pidal and M. Salvá. Madrid: n.p., 1853. Revuelta Somalo, Josemaría. Los Jerónimos. Un orden religiosa nacida en Guadalajara. Guadalajara: Institución Provincial de Cultura ‘Marqués de Santillana,’ 1982. Reyes y mecenas. Los Reyes Católicos, Maximiliano I y los inicios de la casa de Austria en España. Milan: Electa España, 1992. Rodríguez Valencia, Vicente. Isabel la Católica en la opinión de Españoles y estranjeros, siglos 15 al 20. 3 vols. Valladolid: Instituto ‘Isabel la Católica’ de Historia Eclesiastica, 1970. Rosso, Gregorio. Historia delle cose di Napoli sotto l’impero di Carlo V. Naples: G.D. Montanaro, 1635. Ruiz Alcón, Maria Teresa. ‘Los Arcángels en los monasterios de las Descalzas Reales,’ Reales Sitios 11:40 (1974), pp. 45–56. Rummel, Erika. ‘Marineo Sículo: A Protagonist of Humanism in Spain,’ Renaissance Quarterly 50:3 (1997), pp. 701–722.

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Chapter 8

Los scholares son cosa de su excelentia, como lo es toda la Compañia: Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits Chiara Franceschini

In the first half of the sixteenth century, until at least the peace of CateauCambrésis (1559) and the end of the Council of Trent (1564), the Italian system of courts and little states was characterized by a certain degree of political and religious instability. For Italian princes, such as the newly installed Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici in Florence or the relatively weak Duke Ercole d’Este in Ferrara, a way of enhancing their international roles was, as is well known, matrimonial policy. A foreign consort, coming from a high-ranking Spanish or French family and with her own household and networks, was not only a pawn in the diplomatic game, but also an enriching factor for the political, cultural and religious life of courts and cities. She had a power of patronage that did not always completely coincide with that of the prince. Due to the unsettled political and religious situation, this cultural enrichment brought by the consorts of princes sometimes created a degree of unbalance or even friction between the ruler and the consort in their practices of patronage. Moreover, as Caroline Hibbard pointed out some years ago (studying the case of the French consort of King Charles I in England), the household of the consort and the entourage that surrounded it could increase ‘the overrepresentation at court of groups atypical of the country at large.’1 With regard to Italy, one such notable case is that of Renée de France, daughter of King Louis XII and wife of the duke of Ferrara, who, within her French household, offered her protection to preachers and humanists suspected of heresy.2 Mutatis mutandis, and although inside the Medici court there were certainly not such sharp contrasts, we can try to read some aspects of the life and actions of Eleonora di Toledo in Florence from this perspective. In particular, 1 2

Hibbard, ‘The Role of a Queen Consort,’ p. 403. See Franceschini, ‘La corte di Renata di Francia.’

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we might look at two groups which, in the age of Eleonora, were as yet ‘atypical’ of the land where she lived and with whom there is evidence she was in contact: Jews and Jesuits. Leaving aside the problem of the extent to which Eleonora could patronize members of the Spanish Jewish community in Italy, to which her elderly governess Benvenida Abrabanel belonged,3 in this chapter I will focus on the role of the duchess in promoting the newly born Society of Jesus in Florence. The events to which I am referring, from 1547 to the death of Eleonora in 1562, almost all fall within the third phase of the early history of the Society, that, according to John O’Malley’s periodization, runs from 1547–48 to 1559. This is a period of expansion for the Society that sees not only the foundation of the first schools, but also the opposition of older religious orders, first among them the Dominicans.4 The project to establish schools in which Jesuits gave lessons, and not just houses near universities to host Jesuit students, was first launched by the Society around 1544, when Francisco Borgia, Duke of Gandìa (and later a Jesuit and eventually General of the order) asked Pope Paul III to finance a school in Gandìa. The school opened in 1546 and was named a studium generale by Pope Paul III.5 The first true ‘collegio,’ then, was founded in Messina between 1547/48 with the support of Eleonora Osorio, wife of Juan de Vega, viceroy of Sicily.6 In order to found a school, the main problem was to find financial aid. Economic support could come from a city, from a prince, or from private citizens.7 The relationship between the Jesuits and the Medici developed around the project to establish a school in Pisa or in Florence; its principal sponsor at court was the Duchess Eleonora. Ignatius of Loyola corresponded with her, as he did with other women in the upper strata of the social hierarchy.8 In Florence itself, three central figures of the Society, Juan de 3 ‘Siendo alli [in Napoli] visrey don Pedro de Toledo, quiso que su hija, doña Leonor de Toledo, se criasse debaxo de la disciplina de la señora Benvenida, y en su casa, y despues que casó con el Serenissimo gran Duque Cosmo de Medices, y vino á ser Gran Duqueza de la Toscana, siempre en sus cosas se valia de la señora Benvenida que habitava en Ferrara, á quien llamava madre, y como á tal la tratava, y venerava.’ Aboab, Nomologia, p. 2, Chapter 27, p. 304. See also Cassuto, Gli ebrei a Firenze, pp. 88–89. In a letter from Lorenzo Pagni to Pierfrancesco Riccio (4 November 1544), we read that Eleonora, in Pisa, ‘ha passato tempo con una gentildonna hebrea disputando alcune belle cose della fede.’ Florence, Archivio di Stato, Mediceo del Principato (henceforth ASF, MdP) 1171, f. 226r. I wish to thank Lucia Frattarelli Fischer for this indication. 4 O’Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 366–368. 5 O’Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 203–204. 6 O’Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 203–208. 7 O’Malley, The First Jesuits, p. 205. 8 See O’Malley, The First Jesuits, p. 75; Rahner, ‘Ignazio di Loyola e le donne’; Blaisdell, ‘Calvin’s and Loyola’s Letters to Women.’

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Polanco (in 1546–7), Diego Laínez (1547–55), and Diego de Guzmán (c. 1555–60) had, as we will see, close but not always easy relations with her.9

Daughter of Pedro Alvárez de Toledo, viceroy of Naples, and niece of the influential cardinal Juan Alvárez de Toledo, who was also a friend of the Jesuits, Eleonora belonged to one of the most influential families in the Spanish system of Emperor Charles V. She arrived in Florence in 1539 with a suite of Spanish and Neapolitan gentlemen and ladies especially appointed by her father, Don Pedro: Those who must go with my daughter the duchess and will then return are the following: Don Gratia, the baylo Urnas, Don Guttierre de Toledo, Don Piero de Toledo, Fabrizio Maramaldo, Cesare de Gennaro, Salmas, Captain Aldana, Captain Felizes, Captain Alonso Guias, Julian Perez, Captain Diego Perez.10

Again on orders from Don Pedro, several of these, as well as a number of servants and slaves, were to remain in Florence as part of Eleonora’s household: Those whom my daughter the duchess takes for her service and who will remain with her are the following: Doña Maria de Contreras for her principal chamber; other three ladies for her service; Marçilla’s wife, his daughter from Doña Ana de Contreras that she may serve in the chamber doing whatever her mother commands her; six ladies; three servant girls among slaves and servants. Marçilla to company and to serve her and to look after the good maintainance and honesty of her household; Pedro de Solis as majordomo and to serve her in those things the duchess will wish for aside from his regular duties, four pages; the brother-in-law of Don Pedro de Toledo as cup-bearer.11 9 The major studies on the Jesuits in Florence are: Tacchi Venturi, Storia della Compagnia di Gesù, 2/2, pp. 265–284; Scaduto, L’epoca di Giacomo Lainez. Il governo, pp. 577–585 and Scaduto, L’epoca di Giacomo Lainez, 1556–1565. L’azione, pp. 368–371. For the relationship between Eleonora and Loyola, see in particular Rahner, Ignazio di Loyola e le donne, pp. 154– 176. 10 ‘Los que han de yr con la duquessa mi hija para volverse son les siguentes: Don Gratia, el baylo Urnas, don Guttierre de Toledo, don Piero de Toledo, Fabritio Maramaldo, Cesare de Gennaro, Salmas, el capitan Aldana, el capitan Felizes, el capitan Alonso Guias, Julian Perez, el capitan Diego Perez.’ ASF, MdP 5922a, f. 11r. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations are mine. 11 ‘Las personas que la Duquessa mi hija lleva para su servicio y para que queden con ella son las siguentes: Donna Maria de Contreras por su Camera mayor; otras tres dueñas para su servitio; la mugier de Marçilla, su hija de Doña Ana de Contreras para que serva en la camera en aquello que su madre le ordenera; seis damas; tres moças de servicio entre esclavas y moças. Marçilla para acompaniamento y servitio y para tener cuydado della buena guardia y honestidad

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We thus note that the new duchess was escorted by three members of the Toledo family: her brother Don Garcia, her cousin Don Gutierre de Toledo and her uncle (or cousin) Don Pedro de Toledo. The latter is likely to be the same Don Pedro whom we will find in Eleonora’s household as promoter of the Jesuits. In the following years, two other members of the Toledo family were often at the Medici court: the duchess’ brother, Luis de Toledo, and her uncle (or cousin) Don Francisco de Toledo.12 Besides those who remained in Florence in 1539, we find then, as important members of the duchess’ household, Christoforo de Herrera as her secretary, the doctor in theology Francisco de Astudillo from Burgos, and her uncle, Don Pedro de Toledo, ‘comendador d’Alcantare’; among the ladies, Doña Isabella de Reinoso, Isabella Figueroa, Leonor de Guzmán, wife of Don Pedro de Toledo; and, finally, many criados people such as Ernando Sastro as her cameriere, messer Antonio Ciarro as her cook, Francisco Maldonado as her portiere and Sivigliano di Madrid as her cantore.13 Eleonora’s habits and manners must have retained something of a Spanish flavour. The contrast with the local way of life and the difficulty in understanding her behaviour from the local point of view can be heard in the words of an anonymous chronicle, later annotated by Antonio di Orazio di Antonio da Sangallo. The author describes the haughtiness and the sumptuous habits of the duchess and notes that, after the death of the duke’s mother, Maria Salviati (1543), the Florentines remained ‘in the hands of a de su casa; Pedro de Solis por mayordomo y para servilla en aquellas cosas que la duquesa allende de su offitio le quisiere empliar, quatro pages; el cunado de don Pedro de Toledo per copero.’ ASF, MdP 5922a, f. 12r. 12 On these members of the Toledo family, their networks in Italy and their relations with the Medici court, see Hernando Sánchez, Castilla y Nápoles, pp. 137–150, according to whom Don Pedro was either Eleonora’s uncle or her cousin (p. 147). The Florentine sources speak of him as Eleonora’s uncle; see the copy of Eleonora’s last will in ASF, MdP 5922a, f. 130v: ‘Item instituì esecutori di detto suo testamento che ammonischino S.E. di osservar il contenuto in esso, il signor don Luigi de Toledo suo fratello, et signor don Pietro de Toledo suo zio.’ 13 For Francisco de Astudillo see ASF, Possessioni 1436 (at year 1552), f. viiir: ‘al dottore Stuviglio spagniuolo’; ASF, Possessioni, 1437, rubrica: ‘messer Francesco Astudiglio dottore spagnolo’; ASF, MdP 5922a, Eleonora’s last will, f. 131r. For Don Pietro de Toledo see ASF, Possessioni, 4138, f. 38 (at year 1558): ‘lo illustrissimo signor don Pietro di Toledo, comendador d’Alcantare che di presente stava al servitio di S.E.I. stipendiato.’ For Isabella de Reinoso see ASF, Possessioni 1436 (at year 1551), f. 8. For Leonor de Guzmán see ASF, Possessioni 4138, f. 38 and Eleonora’s last will in ASF, MdP 5922a, f. 129r: ‘Item a donna Leonora de Guzman D seicento d’entrata per lei et suoi figliuoli ciascuno anno sopra la Marsiliana o sopra li Giuri di Spagna, et sopravivendo il signor don Pietro, rimanghino a lui et a suoi figli legittimi et naturali li quali mancando ritornino all’eccell. sig. Duca.’ And for the various criados see ASF, Possessioni 4136 (at year 1551), f. 8 and Possessioni 4137, Rubrica.

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Spanish barbarian, enemy to her husband’s homeland.’14 In fact, an affection for her own nation must have been a strong feature of Eleonora’s personality, as the Jesuit Diego de Guzmán noted in 1560 when he asked Laínez to send another Spanish priest to Florence to negotiate with the duchess; as he explained, Eleonora ‘has no affection for anyone from another nation, nor does she wish to speak with any of our men who is not Spanish.’15 In fact, she preferred to speak and to write Spanish than Italian. This fact could create some problem of communication even with the duke, who did not always understand her letters. Due either to her language or, more likely, to her handwriting, the epistolary communication between the duke and the duchess needed intermediators. During Cosimo’s absence in 1541, for example, ‘the duchess’ greatest sorrow’ was that the duke ‘did not understand what she wrote’ to the point that Eleonora lamented to him saying that ‘if Your Excellency could understand what I write in my own hand I could write you many other things that I still have to say to you, but because they might be misunderstood, I would sooner keep them for such a time when I can speak them to you than to put them on paper in someone else’s hand.’16 All these factors forming, in short, the duchess’ Spanish identity (manners, language, and so on) have to be considered as fundamental elements in her patronage of the Jesuit as a Spanish order.

The first Jesuit to enter into communication with the Medici court was Juan de Polanco (1516–77). In October 1546, Ignatius of Loyola sent him to Pistoia where his preaching activities soon proved successful. Ignatius then presented him to Cosimo, who received him in Pisa. Polanco then moved to Florence to investigate the possibility of establishing a school there. In 14 ‘In mano d’una barbara spagnola et nimica alla patria del suo marito.’ Cronaca fiorentina, p. 25. For further comments on Eleonora’s avarice and her bad relations with the nobility and people of Florence see pp. 65, 118, 128, 166. The anonymous Cronaca is sometimes identified with a Marucelli because of the inscription ‘Diario del 1536 di Marucelli’ on the manuscript copy (BNCF, FN II.IV.19). The extant manuscript belonged to Antonio di Orazio di Antonio da Sangallo (1551–1636), himself sometimes wrongly considered its author, but he merely copied the work and added some marginal comments and notes of his own. 15 ‘Non ha affettione a nessuna delle altre nationi, né vuol parlare con alcuno de nostri che non sia spagniuolo.’ ARSI, Ital. 116 (17 August 1560), Guzmán to Laínez, f. 175r. 16 ‘Se l’Eccellenza Vostra intendesse bene li scritti di mano mia io li potrei scrivere molte altre cose che mi restano da dirgli ma perché le possano patir dilatione, voglio più presto riserbarmi a dirgliele di boccha nel ritorno suo che metterle in carta per mano d’altri.’ ASF, Strozziane, I, 49, ‘Lettere,’ ff. 12r and 13v. My thanks to Dr Alessandra Contini, from the Archivio di Stato di Firenze, who showed me this little-known source.

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November, he expressed his intention to speak to Eleonora,17 who asked him to put in writing what he had to say.18 Persuaded that ‘if that woman were to be drawn to the good, she would be … the cause of a very universal good in her entire dominion,’19 Polanco thus wrote a long letter to the duchess that could well be included in the genre of consilia for princes.20 It is worth noting that the recipient was the duchess and not the duke. Polanco, indeed, had prepared a draft of ‘consilia’ to propose verbally to the duke, but he did not write directly to him.21 The epistle to the duchess is based on biblical quotations taken mostly from Job and Revelation and on several examples taken from ancient history. It is structured in four parts: (1) on the dangers of being a prince in general; (2) on the dangers of the specific situation in which Eleonora finds herself; (3) on the remedies for these dangers; (4) on the right ways to use her position. In the first part, Polanco emphasizes that for a prince the dangers of doing the wrong thing are aggravated by the fact that princes do not have ‘true friends’ who would tell them the truth or could teach them how to pray or how to take advantage of the sacraments.22 When, on the contrary, princes do have such friends, they can always be helped by them ‘with prayers and admonitions, and also by their advocacy of the ruler’s good works in the sight of the Divine Mercy.’23 Polanco clearly implies that he and the Jesuits are this type of friend. In the second part, Polanco proceeds to list things that Eleonora must avoid. She has, in fact, eight enemies. Among them, the first is misuse of her interceding role with the prince or with the administrators of her dominion by favouring unjust causes. This warning tells us something about the potential importance of the duchess as intermediator. The second enemy is the exces17 ‘Ho ancora volontà de parlare a la duchesa de molte cose che a lei et gli subditi iovarevono, et l’ho scritto una lettera per domandare audientia et disporla, de la quale aspetto risposta.’ Polanci Complementa, 1:16 (26 November 1546), Polanco to André des Freux. 18 Polanci Complementa, 1:19 (15 December 1546), Polanco to Ignatius. 19 ‘Si se tirase al bien aquella mujer, sería [ … ] causa de un bien muy universal en su estado todo’ Polanci Complementa, 1:19 (15 December 1546), Polanco to Ignatius. 20 ‘Documenta Polanci ad ducissam Florentiae. Ineunte anno 1547,’ Polanci Complementa, 1:20–29. 21 Polanci Complementa, 2:823–828 (sub finem 1546), ‘Capita rerum quae proponendae sunt ex.mo duci Florentiae’ and 1:xviii, n. 64. 22 ‘Tampoco sueden tener amigos verdaderos que les acuerden lo que a su salvatión es necesario, ni quien les instruya en la oración ni en el modo de ayudarse de los sacramentos y otros medios de su salud.’ Polanci Complementa, 1:22–23. 23 ‘Con las oraciones y amonestationes, abogando también por ellos las buenas obras ante la divina misericordia.’ Polanci Complementa, 1:24.

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sive desire to enhance her sons, which highlights the role of the duchess in their education. She must also avoid superfluous expenditure and not waste money that comes from the labours of poor people. The reference here is to Eleonora’s most wasteful extravagance, gambling, the major fault of the ducal house, according to Polanco. As we also learn from her account books, Eleonora used, in fact, to bet on whether her own or her ladies’ children would be born male or female.24 The other ‘enemies’ are haughtiness, love of worldly pleasures and idleness. Against them, Eleonora must engage in handiwork or in activities such as reading, listening to ‘good things’ and praying. The best remedy for all these dangers is, indeed, ‘to love spiritual and eternal things.’ So, if she attended a good lecture or devoted herself to praying and listening to the word of God from someone who could sincerely preach it, positive results would accrue for the State of Florence. In particular, Polanco exhorted her to take ‘un buen confessor’ to whom Eleonora could entrust her conscience. In addition, she must also have somebody who speaks openly to her and who gives her instructions for the spiritual life. In other words, she needs not only a confessor, but also a director of conscience.25 The epistle was, in short, a little handbook of behaviour with an implicit message: ministries like those carried out by the members of the new Society were indispensable to the life of a princess and the well-being of a state. Polanco’s ways of dealing with the Medici, however, was disapproved by Ignatius. According to the latter, these lords were continually suspiciously scrutinizing both those who supported and those who opposed them; Polanco was therefore wrong to address himself directly to the lords with ‘advice on the reformation of their conscience or their state’ without first gaining their confidence.26 André de Freux had written to Ignatius that ‘the said signor Pedro assures me that the Lord Duke and his people are well informed about and inspired by the Society, and especially the Lady Duchess, who was pleased by what Polanco had written to her.’27 The truth, instead, was that Cosimo mistrusted the new congregation on account of Polanco’s involvement with the Savonarolan movement while in Pistoia. There, Polanco had had many followers among members of a Pistoiese confraternity close to Francesco Galigari da Gagliano, bishop of the city, the Compagnia de’ 24

There are many examples of this in ASF, MdP 5922b, ff. i, 12v and 14r. Polanci Complementa, 1:24–28. 26 ‘Preceptos [ … ] en reformación de sus consciencias ó estado,’ Monumenta Ignatiana, 1:458, let. 152 (February or March 1547), Ignatius to Polanco. 27 ‘El detto signor d. Pietro certifica ch’el signor duca et altri suoi sono bene informati et edificati della Compagnia, et specialmente la signora duchezza chi ha havuto piacer di quel che gli scrisse mag. Polanco.’ Litterae Quadrimestres, 1:38 (21 May 1547), André des Freux to Ignatius. 25

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Magi.28 The confraternity had many points of contact with the piagnoni and Cosimo did not trust them.29 We can find evidence of Polanco’s success in Pistoia as late as 1557, when Antonio Tallini, one of Polanco’s disciples, showed the visiting Diego Guzmán ‘a hand-written book of the things Father Polanco read to them when he was [in Pistoia], that is, certain exercises and rules very useful to any Christian.’30 The so-called piagnoni, as followers of the Savonarolan legacy, held republican sentiments and, therefore, were potential opponents of the new monarchical government of Cosimo I. For this reason, the instructions Ignatius gave in May 1547 to those who were going to work in Florence after Polanco were clear: above all, do not show favouritism either to the Savonarolan faction or for any other opposing faction.31 In spite of this directive, a year later (February 1548) Cosimo’s opinion of the Jesuits had not changed. In a letter to Ignatius, Laínez pointed out in the matter of the Jesuit school to be established in Florence, the duke had observed ‘that these new things are dangerous, and that, although there are a few good persons in the Society, not all of them are so’ (‘che queste cose nuove son pericolose, e che, ancorché alcuni siano buoni nella Compania, non tutti’). Laínez then added that Cosimo had then mentioned ‘certain matters of Pistoia and … other things that Marco Bracci had said to him from Rome, that is, that we [the Jesuits] took wives away from their husbands, etc.’ (‘certe cose di Pistoia e [ … ] altre cose che Marco Bracci l’haveva ditto di Roma, cioè che noi toglievamo le moglie a suoi mariti, etc.’). In other words, on the basis of information received from one of his agents in Rome, Marco Bracci, about the reputation of the Jesuits, Cosimo feared not only the Jesuits’ association with the Savonarolan movement in Pistoia, but also the social consequences of their activities. In the same letter, however, Laínez pointed out that Don Pedro de Toledo, uncle of the duchess, and Alessandro Strozzi, canonico of the cathedral, had defended the Society, as had Eleonora herself, who ‘also enthusiastically helped’ (‘ancora aiutò caldamente’), but without convincing the duke who ‘saying neither yes 28 Tacchi Venturi, Storia della Compagnia, vol. 2, part 2, p. 268 and n. 1. See also the entry ‘Gagliano, Pier Francesco da’ in the Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 51, sub voce. 29 For Cosimo’s handling of the piagnoni issue in Florence, see Lorenzo Polizzotto, The Elect Nation, and ‘Confraternities, Conventicles.’ 30 ‘Vine por Pistoya y estuve alli tres dias y en casa de uno de aquellos devotos del padre Polanco donde me hizieron harta charidad y uno que se llama Antonio Talini me mostro un libro escrito a mano de las cosas que el padre Polanco les leya quando alla estuvo, que son ciertos exercicios y reglas muy utiles para qualquier cristiano y pienso cierto que sería de grande utilidad se se estampase.’ Archivum Romanum Societatis Jesu (hereafter, ARSI), Ital. 107 (20 February 1557), Guzmán to Laínez, f. 252v. 31 ‘Ratio gerendi res florentinas’ in Polanci Complementa, 1:829.

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or no went away to his chamber’ (‘non mostrando né di sì né di no se n’andò in camera’).32

This difference of opinions brings up the question of Eleonora’s specific role in promoting the new Society during the long negotiations that flowed into the founding of the Jesuit school in Florence. Diego Laínez, later second General of the Society, was the true initiator of the project. He arrived in Florence in June 1547 to preach during the feast of St John. His sermons were very popular and many ‘people of quality’ praised them in the presence of Cosimo, Eleonora and the duke’s ‘maestro de casa,’ saying that they did not have any problems understanding Laínez, even though he must have spoken in Spanish.33 Notwithstanding his success, Laínez had to wait until 1551 to speak directly with Cosimo ‘sin terceras personas’ about the founding of the school.34 Finally, they reached an agreement for the foundation of a school not in Florence but in Pisa: 200 scudi a year would come from Cosimo and 50 or 100 from Eleonora, who in the meantime had developed a true affection for Laínez. However, because Pope Julius III had chosen Laínez as envoy to the Council of Trent,35 Father Elpidio Ugoletti was sent to the Medici court in his place in September 1551. Ignatius instructed Ugoletti to approach the duchess and convince her that it was better to found a school in Florence rather than in Pisa.36 Despite Eleonora’s desire to wait for the return of Laínez, Ignatius forced the matter and sent the first group of students to Florence under the supervision of Louis de Coudret. Christobal Laínez, brother of Diego, was among them.37 Negotiations about financing the school and giving a church to the Jesuits continued throughout the following years 32

Lainii Monumenta, 1:75, let. 30 bis (ante medium februarium 1548), Laínez to Ignatius. ‘Diversas personas de qualidad, según don Pedro me ha dicho, an ablado al duque y á la duquesa, y al maestro de casa del duque, y al mismo don Pedro, loando como cosa singular los sermones, etc., y sin ofenderse nada de la lengua; y honbres y mujeres dezir que me entienden etc. Así que el duque, y la duquesa, y el mayordomo, están muy edificados, según dizen, y se an ofreçido á favorecer en lo que obiéremos menester.’ Lainii Monumenta, 1:64, let. 25 (2 July 1547), Laínez to Ignatius. The ‘maestro de casa’ or ‘mayordomo’ may be Pierfrancesco Riccio, who held this post from 1 May 1545 to the summer of 1553; see Firpo, Gli affreschi, pp. 160– 161. 34 Lainii Monumenta, 1:178, let. 69 (ad medium martium 1551), Laínez to Polanco. 35 Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:413–414, let. 1735 (25 April 1551), Polanco to Laínez. 36 Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:634–639, lets. 2046–2048 (primis diebus septembris 1551), Ignatius to Ugoletti. 37 Monumenta Ignatiana, loc. cit., and also 3:719, let. 2189 (12 November 1551), Ignatius to Louis de Coudret et sociis. 33

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(1551–3) until in September 1553 Cosimo agreed to the concession of the church of San Giovannino.38 Although the final decision rested with the duke, the first recipient of the requests of the Jesuits during all this time and later was Eleonora. She was constantly playing the role of intermediator between them and her husband. Examples of her interposition are innumerable, so one will suffice: in July 1555 Laínez advised Alfonso Salmeron to speak ‘first to the duchess, and through her with the duke.’39 According to instructions from Ignatius, in fact, the Jesuit fathers and students were to behave as a ‘thing’ of the duchess.40 This meant that, on arriving in Florence, they were to contact first of all members of Eleonora’s household or people close to her. When Laínez arrived in Florence in 1547, for example, he first visited her uncle Don Pedro de Toledo41 and ‘la más principal’ lady of her court,42 possibly Isabel de Reinoso, who later gave some economic support to the Society.43 Similarly, when Ugoletti arrived in Florence, the first thing he had to do, just after having found a house, was ‘to speak with the duchess’ people’ that is, with her secretary Christoforo de Herrera, the ‘maestro Paschino,’ and the doctor in theology Francisco Astudillo.44 Once in her presence, they were to behave in accordance with her Spanish manner, that is, speak Spanish, kneel before her, and ask for her hand in greeting with their hats off. The instructions Ignatius gave the first group of 38 Lainii Monumenta, 1:236, let. 91 (16 September 1553), Laínez to Ignatius, and Monumenta Ignatiana, 5:544, let. 3800 (1 October 1553), Ignatius to Salmerón. 39 ‘Primero á la duquesa, y por medio della al duque,’ Lainii Monumenta, 1:272, let. 106 (c. 20 July 1555), Laínez to Salmerón. See also Lainii Monumenta, 4:611 (7 January 1560), Laínez to Eleonora: ‘me atrevo á escrevir á V.E. suplicándole humilmente que si fuere menester, sea medianera con el duque y tambien con Su Santidad para que nos favorezca.’ 40 ‘Los scholares son cosa de su Ex.tia, come lo es toda la Compañia,’ Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:639, let. 2048 (primis diebus septembris 1551), Ignatius to Ugoletti. 41 The editors of the Monumenta Historica Societatis Jesu (Lainii Monumenta, 1:62, n. 3) are wrong in identifying him with Eleonora’s father, the viceroy of Naples (in 1547 the viceroy was engaged in crushing a rebellion; see Hernando Sánchez, Castilla y Nápoles, p. 304). 42 Who sent some wine and fish to the fathers’ house ‘sabiéndolo ó mandándolo la duquesa’; Lainii Monumenta, 1:62, let. 25 (2 July 1547), Laínez to Ignatius. 43 ‘Buena, fiel y anciana servidora [ … ] especial devota de V.P. [Ignatius] y de la Companía.’ See Epistolae Mixtae, 4:381, let. 871 (6 October 1554), Francisco Astudillo to Ignatius; and Lainii Monumenta, 1:214, let. 81 (1 October 1552), Laínez to Ignatius. 44 Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:635–637, let. 2046 (primis diebus septembris 1551), Ignatius to Ugoletti: ‘trovata casa, veda de parlare a quelli della signora duchessa, il segretario Herrera, maestro Paschino et il doctor Astudillo, et farli capaci de questo far il collegio in Fiorenza.’ Pasquino Bertini de Pisa was charged with the distribution of the duchess’ alms in 1553. See ASF, Possessioni 4136, ‘Libro debitori et creditori’ (1551–4), ff. 5, V, 8. On 22 April 1553 he was to give 50 ducats to Christobal Laínez ‘prete riformato’ (f. 5).

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students sent to Florence were clear and direct: Christobal Laínez and three other young companions were to visit first Don Luis de Toledo, Eleonora’s brother (in Florence at the moment), and then the ducal couple; in Eleonora’s presence Christobal was to speak Spanish and indicate that he was ‘fratello del maestro Laynez’; they were also to kneel and ask for her hand with head uncovered.45 Finally, they were to make sure that she had the impression that things would develop according to her own will. Ignatius wrote to Ugoletti: ‘everything must be left up to the duchess although indirectly, through friends, it would be well to urge her on … when all he [Father Ugoletti] demands is refused, let the duchess feel nothing but complete conformity with her will.’46 Moreover, the fathers paid constant attention to the opinions circulating in her household about the Society. In fact, people around her were often speaking in favour of or against the Jesuits, and friends of the fathers, such as Leonardo Rosani alias ‘il cavalier Rosso,’ kept them informed about these conversations.47 The attitude of the influential theologian Francisco Astudillo, however, was ambiguous. At first, he seemed well disposed towards the Jesuits,48 but in 1560 Guzmán thought that he was working against them. During a conversation between Eleonora, Rosso and Astudillo, the latter pointed out that the Jesuits were becoming richer and richer and that they were eager to accept presents and gifts. Rosso tried to defend the Society, but Astudillo told him abruptly to keep silent if he was not a theologian (‘dunque 45 Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:718–719, let. 2189 (12 November 1551), Ignatius to Louis de Coudret. 46 ‘Si deve lassar il tutto a devotione della duchesa, benché indirectamente, per mezo delli amici, saria bene speronarla [ … ] quando li fossi negato tutto quello che pretende, non senta la duchessa se non ogni conformità con la voluntà sua.’ Monumenta Ignatiana, 3:636–637, let. 2046 (primis diebus septembris 1551), Ignatius to Ugoletti. 47 The editors of the Monumenta Historica Societatis Jesu suggest that the ‘cavalier Rosso’ may be identified with the eques florentinus Giovanni de’ Rossi (Lainii Monumenta, 2:151 and n. 2, 27 February 1557, Laínez to ‘Joannes de Rossis’), but it is clear from the sources that ‘cavalier Rosso’ was not Giovanni de’ Rossi, but the nickname for Leonardo Rosani; see ASF, Possessioni 4137, f. 46r: ‘m. L.do Rosani cavaliere Rosso’; f. 93r: ‘m. Lionardo Rosani alias el Cavaliere Rosso’ and so on. In the Carteggio Universale of Cosimo I, there are two letters by Rosani: ASF, MdP 357, f. 528r, from ‘cavalier Rosso Rosani nepote della sedia apostolica’ to Cosimo I; ASF, MdP 370, f. 483r, from ‘cavalier Rosso Rosani’ to Lorenzo Pagni. Rosani is also the author of a post-scriptum in a letter addressed to Eleonora from ‘su hermano’ in ASF, MdP 361, ff. 625r–626r. Giovanni de’ Rossi, instead, was a German doctor who gave hospitality to the Jesuits in Florence in 1547; see Polanco, Vita Ignatii Loiolae, 1:219; and Polanci Complementa, 1:13, let. 7 (26 November 1546), Polanco to André des Freux. 48 See, for example, ARSI, Ital. 112 (Florence, 4 June 1558), Fulvio Androtio to Laínez, f. 190r: ‘Domandare in prest(it)o non sappiamo da chi, eccetto d’Astudiglio il quale reserviamo in estrema necessità essendoli molto debitori.’

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tacete se non sete teologo’). For Guzmán, this change of heart was due to the influence of the Dominican Melchior Cano, a well-known enemy of the Society, who had been in Florence at that time.49 It seems evident, therefore, that the progress of the Society relied largely on Eleonora and her household’s support of the fathers. Among the major supporters of the Jesuits in Eleonora’s entourage we find the ‘cavalier Rosso,’ as we have seen, Isabella de Reinoso and Don Pedro de Toledo with his wife.50

Jesuit activity at court and in the city encouraged many young men of the court, both Florentines and Spanish, to enter the Society. Also, the duke’s dwarf, Barbino, was a member of the Jesuits school and communicated by letter directly with Laínez. Once, Barbino asked him for an ‘Ave maria benedeta et uno Agnusdei’ as gifts through which ‘essendo io picolo di corpo forse mi farete deventare grande in divotione.’51 Generally speaking, families did not agree with the intention of their sons to enter the Society so, in most cases, Eleonora mediated between the young men and the Jesuits on one side and their parents on the other. Such was the case with Giovanni Ricasoli, nephew of Giovanni Battista Ricasoli bishop of Cortona and ‘friend of the 49 ARSI, Ital. 116 (17 August 1560), Guzmán to Laínez, f. 175r ‘Per avviso voglio dire a V.P. quel che il cavalier Rosso ci referì hieri del dottore Studilla, il quale mi par che non fa nessun buon offitio per noi appresso alla duchessa, ma più presto cattivo. Dissemi detto cavaliere che venendo a ragionamento di noi la duchessa, il dottore disse, come di mano in mano diventassimo ricchi, cioè la Compagnia, et ricordò come in Napoli alli dì passati andò a veder la casa nostra, che il p. Salmeron gli la mostrò [ … ] et che poi gli mostrò il sacrario tutto pieno et acconcio di pietre preciose che benché quello stia bene, ma che gli pare che li nostri pigliano molti presenti et doni et, volendoci il cavaliere difendere, lui disse molte cose, specialmente che noi non facevamo cose nella chiesa che non le faccian li altri; il cavalier gli disse che non voleva disputar con lui, et che non era teologo come lui. Il dottore rispose: dunque tacete se non sete teologo, del che possiamo comprendere l’animo suo verso di noi. A tutte queste cose secondo che intendo la duchessa non rispose niente. Ho pensato che, benché il dottore non ci fusse prima grande amico, l’essersi accompagnato alli dì passati con m.o Cano gli debba aver levato quel poco di buona affettione che ci mostrava.’ 50 See also ARSI, Ital. 112 (Florence, 28 May 1558), Louis de Coudret to Laínez, f. 166r: ‘et dippoi andai con il mio compagno a Pisa [ … ] Nel quale tempo predicamo tre volte nel monasterio di Santa Martha, et una nella chiesia di Santo Sepolchro, et confessai la moglie del signor don Pedro de Toledo, et due o tre di casa sua, et gi communicai, et vennero a tutte le prediche che feci nel monasterio et don Pedro venne a due et volse ch’io gli dicessi l’altra nella quale non era stato.’ For the ‘cavalier Rosso’ see also ARSI, Ital. 109 (10 July 1557), Coudret to Laínez, f. 40v: ‘parlando il cavaglier Rosso a Sua Ex.a delli nostri bisogni, lei rispose che [ … ] provederenne.’ 51 ARSI, Ital. 107 (27 March 1557), Barbino to Laínez, f. 379r.

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duke’;52 Girolamo de’ Conti, son of Giovanni de’ Conti, the duke’s secretary;53 Christoforo Truxillo, son of Pedro de la Peña who, with his wife, was part of the duchess’ household.54 Eleonora was so enthusiastic of Truxillo’s vocation that she stated that ‘if she were a man, she would enter in our company.’55 Jesuits, in fact, needed Eleonora’s support in order to tackle a diffidence towards them on the part of the Florentines. As Ignatius said about the vocation of Cosimo, a young Florentine, ‘it is not suitable to let the idea grow in the mind of the Florentines that we chase after their sons in order to have them enter our Society’; Laínez later repeated this warning.56 Probably for the same reason Eleonora had a clear idea regarding the age at which boys could enter the Society: not before they were seventeen or eighteen years old.57 When Christoforo de Herrera, the fifteen-year-old nephew of Eleonora’s namesake secretary, wished to become a Jesuit, she did not initially agree, even if the Jesuits pointed out that ‘because Christoforo was a Spaniard, there was no danger that people would mutter against it.’58 This argument is interesting because it points to the perception of a difference in the point of view of the Jesuits between Spaniards and Florentines. 52

Monumenta Ignatiana, 7:671, let. 4881 (18 October 1554), Ignatius to Domenech. ARSI, Ital. 107 (23 January 1557), Coudret to Laínez, ff. 130r–131r: ‘Questa settimana dua delli scholari del fratello Lione m’hanno parlato significandomi che desiderano intrare nella Compagnia. L’uno è Girolamo Conti figliuolo di m. Giovanni de Conti secretario del Duca et questo Girolamo è quasi come un’altro Giovanni de Ricasoli di bella apparenza esteriore et interiore [ … ] dell’età è di 14 anni, et questo aprile intrerà nelli 15 [ … ] il suo padre come sa V.P. è riccho et delli principali servitori del Duca. Gli suoi parenti non si cotentano che si faccia della Compagnia. L’altro si chiama Giovan Batista Botti [ … ] è di età di 16 anni [ … ] Il suo padre era fornaio ma è morto; ha la madre la quale è contenta che lui intri nella compagnia perché è donna da bene.’ 54 ARSI, Ital. 109, f. 36r and Epistolae Mixtae, 5:239–241, let. 1105 (7 March 1556), Coudret to Ignatius. 55 Epistolae Mixtae, 5:240–241, let. 1105 (7 March 1556), Coudret to Laínez: ‘S.E. rispose [ … ] che se uno de suoi figliuoli si volesse fare della Compagnia, non gli direbbe di non, anzi, se lei fusse huomo, intrarebbe nella nostra Compagnia.’ 56 ‘Non conviene accrescere questo concetto nelli animi delli fiorentini, che andiamo dietro alli suoi figlioli per farli entrare nella Compagnia.’ Monumenta Ignatiana, 9:6, let. 5342 (13 April 1555), Ignatius to Coudret; Lainii Monumenta, 2:623, let. 652 (27 February 1557), Laínez to Coudret. 57 Monumenta Ignatiana, 7:726, let. 4918 (3 November 1554), Ignatius to Coudret; and ARSI, Ital. 109, f. 36r (9 July 1557), Guzmán to Laínez: ‘yo hable ayer a la señora duquesa [ … ] y su ex.a me dixo algunas cosas [ … ] quanto al recebir en la compaña mocos de poca edad, que V.P. [Laínez] haga segun le parece que conviense, mas que lo que ella dezía era pro la mala tierra en que estamos.’ 58 ‘In Christoforo per essere della natione spagnuola, non vi era pericolo che le persone mormorassino,’ ARSI, Ital. 108 (24 April 1557), Coudret to Laínez, f. 66r. 53

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It also highlights, as do the previous citations, the obstacles the Society encountered in Florence.

If the duchess and her household’s support determined the success of the Society in Florence, the Jesuits’ position was made difficult by the fact that Eleonora’s affection was directed more towards some particular individuals rather than towards the Society in general. She showed, in fact, a true affection for Laínez first and then for Diego de Guzmán, who was sent to Florence after the final departure of Laínez in 1555.59 On many occasions she opposed their departure or removal from Florence, but always to no avail: the tasks of the Society, such as taking part in the Diet of Augsburg or in the Council of Trent, took the fathers far from Florence.60 This was something Eleonora could not bear, so much so that it led her to express her discontent in vivid words, saying, for instance ‘that Florence was not a bird cage where one could take out and change [its occupant] any time one wished’ and that she did not want to ‘pick up new conversations every day.’61 The tension in the relationship between Eleonora and the Jesuits derives from this fact. Indeed, Diego de Guzmán sometimes had the impression he was wasting his time with her: ‘I can’t see what results we can obtain from her, except to be left waiting for three or four hours to have a word or two with her.’62 59 Monumenta Ignatiana, 9:734, let. 5820 (19 October 1555), Ignatius to Coudret; Monumenta Ignatiana, 9:714, let. 5804 (13 October 1555), Ignatius to Eleonora; Monumenta Ignatiana, 10:105, let. 5890 (9 November 1555), Ignatius to Guzmán. 60 The duchess had obtained Laínez from the pope thanks to the intercession of her uncle, Cardinal Juan Alvárez de Toledo; Monumenta Ignatiana, 5:344, let. 3654 (19 August 1553), Ignatius to T. Spinola and F. Cattaneo Bava. In 1551, she even thought of asking for a papal breve that would not allow Laínez to leave Florence without her or Cosimo’s permission; Lainii Monumenta, 1:188–189, let. 73 (10 July 1551), Laínez to Ignatius. Her opposition to Laínez’s departure from Florence grew stronger in 1553 when Laínez was called by the Signoria of Genoa. Urged also by her uncle, the cardinal (Monumenta Ignatiana, 5:428, let. 3714, 2 September 1553), Eleonora finally granted Laínez a leave of absence (see, among many other letters, Monumenta Ignatiana, 5:403, let. 3694, 26 August 1553), Ignatius to Spinola. Laínez only returned to Florence in May 1554 then, in May 1555, with great disappointment on the part of Eleonora, Laínez was sent by Pope Julius III to the Diet of Augsburg as theological counsellor of Cardinal Morone (see Rahner, ‘Ignazio di Loyola e le donne,’ p. 164 and many letters by Loyola and Laínez dated in these years). 61 ‘Che Firenze non era una gabbia d’uccelli per torre et mutare ogni volta quelle che paresse, et mi disse [ … ] che se si togliesse il padre don Diego [Guzmán] o me dal suo stato gli altri se ne potrebbono andare. Perché lei non voleva ogni dì pigliare nuove conversationi,’ ARSI, Ital. 112 (23 April 1558), Coudret to Laínez, f. 166r. 62 ‘Yo no veo fruto que con su excelentia pueda hazer, sino hazerme esperar tres y quatro oras para dezille una palabra y esto por ordinario,’ ARSI, Ital. 109 (9 July 1557), Guzmán to

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Within the framework of this relationship, what did Laínez and Guzmán do, in practical terms, at court? And, to what extent is it possible to speak of the duchess’ religiosity? During his stay in Florence, Diego Laínez held the office of confessor for all the daughters of the duchess.63 He was a sort of spiritual director and probably also the confessor of Eleonora.64 Laínez also used to minister to the poor of Florence and Pisa, and he also often urged the duchess to give alms and to support reforms in women’s convents.65 We have some information on Guzmán’s activities as well. Diego de Guzmán was a member of the high Spanish nobility and a disciple of Juan de Avila. In 1554, after some trouble with the Spanish Inquisition in the context of a trial against judaizants, he was sent by Ignatius to Italy. According to Tacchi Venturi and O’Malley, Guzmán was responsible for the diffusion in Italy of the catechetical tradition of Avila by means of his Doctrina christiana. In Florence, he was teaching ‘la doctrina christiana’ to Garzia and Ferdinando de’ Medici, sons of the duke, and worked hard in the city tending to the many people who visited the Jesuit church.66 On Laínez’s suggestion, Guzmán tried to initiate Eleonora into the Spiritual Exercises. Laínez told Guzmán that should he convince Eleonora to spend an hour every day on ‘spiritual things,’ he should propose some exercises specifically for her that might Laínez, f. 36v and ARSI, Ital. 109 (10 July 1557), Coudret to Laínez, f. 40v. Guzmán and Coudret hoped for better financial support from the duchess, but she avoided the subject of money in her conversations both with them and with her courtiers who supported the Society. At the same time, she would not accept that the fathers had to leave Florence. 63 Eleonora to Cardinal Del Monte, in early 1555: ‘confessando egli già molti anni tutte le mie figliuole, sia certa V.S. R.ma et Il.ma che non potria tormisi da presso né per poco né per assai tempo senza molto incomodo e discontentamento mio’; Tacchi Venturi, ‘Una lettera inedita,’ p. 152, n. 1. 64 We know that, when Cosimo and Eleonora were in Rome in December 1560, she went to confess with Laínez, whilst her ladies and sons confessed with other Jesuit fathers: ‘La duquesa se ha tornado a confessar [esta navidad] con N.P. [Laínez] y así sus mugeres y hijos con los nuestros’; Lainii Monumenta, 5:351, let. 1443 (28 December 1560), Laínez to Guzmán. This letter adds that Eleonora was thinking of establishing the Jesuit schools of Florence, Siena and possibly Pisa, using her own funds (‘fundar dello suyo essos collegios de Florencia y Sena’). 65 For example, Laínez writes that when the court was in Pisa in the spring of 1551, ‘La duquesa tanbién, por intercesión mía, a hecho algunas limosnas, y a ayudado mucho á estas monjas para que vivan en común, dándoles limosna cada año de lleña y dineros,’ Lainii Monumenta, 1:182, let. 71 (30 April 1551), Laínez to Ignatius. 66 ‘Todavia voi a enseñarles la doctrina christiana a los dos niños don Garcia y don Fernando y saben ya buena parte d’ella; el fruto de las confesiones y comuniones va adelante a gloria del Señor y el domingo pasado se confesaron y comulgaron en nostra iglesia quasi 40 personas que es harto en tiempo de caranaval.’ ARSI, Ital. 107 (20 February 1557), Guzmán to Laínez, ff. 252r–252v.

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make her dislike what he termed ‘the black game.’67 Guzmán, however, had to be cautious: the word ‘exercises’ could frighten the duchess. So he referred to them as ‘algunas consideraciones’ or ‘modo de orar.’68 To teach Eleonora the spiritual life was not an easy task. Guzmán later noted with regret that Eleonora was not following his advice, especially on the issues of gambling and confession.69 In fact, and notwithstanding her role in promoting the new congregation, Eleonora’s devotion was questionable. As we have seen, Jesuits themselves often complained of her attitude and of her weak will when it came to religious practice. Moreover, the so-called Marucelli chronicle, whose anonymous author was certainly an enemy of the Spanish faction, regarded her as an irreligious duchess who was never seen visiting either churches or pious places. For that reason, as we read in a later annotation to the same chronicle by Sangallo, ‘Florentines consider the duchess to have little devotion.’ In particular, the anonymous author stresses that her conduct was ‘contrary to her entire role, [which is] to set an example for the entire city, if nothing else.’70 In other words, the author was conscious of the possible gap between the duchess’ public function and image, which should be to set an example, and her private feelings. The role of a sovereign consort was partially pre-established. From the point of view of this partisan and anti-Spanish source, Eleonora clearly fell 67 ‘Algunos exercitios á su propósito, para que, gustando más de las cosas de Dios [ … ] le viniese en desgusto el negro juego. Y si el tiempo y dinero que en aquel esercitio gasta, le emplease en obras santas y spirituales, no ay duda que sería rara sierva de Dios’; Lainii Monumenta, 1:457, let. 201 (24 October 1556), Laínez to Guzmán. 68 Lainii Monumenta, 1:500, let. 233 (7 November 1556), Laínez to Guzmán. 69 ‘Molto pare si sia domenticata di quelli buoni propositi che Dio le diede nella infirmità ch’hebbe alli dì passati et particolarmente del gioco, et del rispetto delle persone religiose, di sentir qualche volta predica, confessarsi qualche volta l’anno, benché adesso si potrà scusar che non ha confessore,’ ARSI, Ital. 115 (23 September 1559), Guzmán to Laínez, f. 136v. Between 1559 and 1560 Guzmán was rettore of the school in Florence. 70 ‘Così in Dogana maggiore si faceva una scala dolce, la quale aveva a servire per portare la lettiga infin di sopra, nella qual lettiga andava la duchessa la quale, per la sua superbia, mai fu vista, o poco, andare a sua piedi; a cavallo mai fu vista et in lettiga il più delle volte; pubblicamente andava a guisa di un tabernacolo di reliquia, cioè mezza la lettiga scoperta et sotto l’altra metà stava lei, cosa veramente meravigliosa vedere una donna di così grande alterigia et mai fu vista visitare chiese né luoghi pij [Sangallo’s addition: “fiorentini tassano la duchessa di poco devota”], contrario tutto all’uffitio suo solo per dare esempio alla città se non per altro, et solo per questa causa si fece tale scala.’ See also on p. 65: ‘alli 15 d’aprile 1547 si cominciò i fondamenti della costa di San Giorgio [ … ] et non senza danno de’ vicini che sono lì intorno et massimo de’ luoghi pij, niente di manco forzatamente occupò loro molte cose, massime per contento della donna del duca chiamata Leonora de Toledo, donna superba et inemica de’ Fiorentini affatto.’ Cronaca fiorentina, p. 93 (20 December 1548).

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short of such expectations. Whether this, if true, was due simply to the weakness of her religious sentiment or, perhaps more likely, to her dismissal of traditional and more spectacular practices of devotion in favour of a new kind of spirituality, such as the one carried out by Jesuits, is a question that requires further investigation. Such an inquiry should start from an analysis of the duchess’ account books where, in contrast with the chronicle, many donations to convents are, indeed, recorded.71 From the same account books we also discover that both Francisco Astudillo and Leonardo Rosani were often charged with making donations to the poor.72

Eleonora died in Pisa, in the old Medici palace close to the church and convent of San Matteo, on 17 December 1562, in the wake of the sudden deaths of her two sons Giovanni and Garzia.73 In her last hours, she was confessed and comforted by the Jesuit Father Francisco Estrada, who later reported on her death.74 Despite all her ambiguity with regard to supporting the Society and to learning their methods, Diego Laínez, an ‘old friend’ of the duchess in her own words,75 acknowledged her crucial role in the foundation of the school in Florence. After her death, he had letters written throughout Tuscany, as well as to Naples and Sicily, in order to have masses and prayers said for the repose of her soul as a founder of the order (‘que digan las missas y hagan las orationes, que por los fundadores suelen hazerse, por la duqyesa de Florencia’). In fact, though she was not ‘interamente fundadora del collegio de Florencia,’ she had

71 See the registers entitled ‘debitori et creditori’ or ‘libri mastri’ in ASF, Possessioni 4136, 4137, 4138, under the item ‘elemosine’ (see the index in every volume). 72 See, for example, ASF, Possessioni 4137, f. 46: ‘E addì 23 detto s. novantadua d’oro in oro [ … ] prepagati a m. Leonardo Rosani cavaliere Rosso pagato contante per distribuire fra lui e il dottore Astudiglio per limosina a più famiglie povere la 1⁄2 per uno.’ 73 Her last will was made on 16 December 1562 ‘in Palatio solitae residentiae praefati ill.mi domini ducis in capella seu parrochia s.ti Matthaei, in talamo praefatae ill.me dominae ducissae in quo iacebat in lecto infirma’; see ASF, MdP 5922a, f. 131r. This palatium, bought by Piero di Cosimo around 1446, was the first Medici residence in Pisa, before the building of the new palace known today as the ‘Palazzo reale’ which was begun after 1583; see Tolaini, ‘Forma Pisarum,’ p. 154, n. 26 and p. 164. For a description of Eleonora’s last illness and passing, see Duke Cosimo’s letter to his son, Francesco, included as Appendix A to this chapter. 74 ARSI, Ital. 122 (16 January 1563), Francisco Estrada to Diego Laínez, ff. 196r–197r (old 225r–226r). See my transcription of this letter in Appendix B to this chapter. 75 ‘In quella hora io dissi a S. Ex.a di quella casa a noi vicina quale vogliono vendere mostrando la necessità che haveamo di comperar quella casa et S. Ex. callò et non rispose mai parolla; dipoi, parlando d’altro, S. Ex.a dise che V. R. et lei erano amici vecchi.’ ARSI, Ital. 108 (26 June 1557), Coudret to Laínez, f. 326.

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managed to get the church and the house for the Jesuits and bequeathed them 200 escudos as perpetual annuity (‘de renta perpetua’).76 Writing to Cosimo I to comfort him and to remind him of his duties in religion, Laínez remembered two conversations he had had with the duchess.77 To conclude: the letters exchanged inside the Society and between Eleonora and the fathers can, on the one hand, shed light on the mechanism of patronage that connected a foreign princess in an Italian court with a specific cultural and religious group from her mother country; on the other hand, if excerpts from these sources do not say very much about the true spiritual life of Eleonora, they can nonetheless echo the voice of a woman whose personality was, to say the least, rather elusive. Scuola Normale Superiore Pisa, Italy My gratitude goes to Aidan O’Malley for having read a previous version of this text and patiently corrected my English.

76 ‘Aviéndole hecho aver la yglesia y casa, y aviéndole dexado 200 escudos de renta perpetua, parece a nuestro Padre se deve usar esta gratitud quanto a las orationes y missas.’ Lainii Monumenta, 6:673, let. 1774 (4 February 1563), Diego Laínez to Cristóforo de Madrid. 77 Lainii Monumenta, 6:602–606, let. 1745 (31 December 1562), Laínez to Cosimo I.

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Appendix A Letter from Duke Cosimo I to his son Francesco, residing in Spain Sent from Pisa, 18 December 1562.78 //107r// Al principe figliolo, il dì 18 di dicembre 1562. L’attioni mondane son tali che ogni giorno, secondo che è la voluntà del gran motore, si muovono hor in piacere et hora in dispiacere di noi altri corpi imperfetti. Ma egli, che non può errare, dispone di noi et della vita et della morte in quel modo che alla sua gran bontà piace. Et sempre debbiamo pensare che sia a benefitio nostro, perché, se altrimenti noi pensassimo, o pure ce l’imaginassimo, negheremmo il nostro creatore, saremmo impii, et come privi d’ogni luce saremmo ciechi in questo mondo, ma molto più nel altro. Sapendo io adunque che tu sei di tanta discretione che questo ch’io ti dico è verissimo et certissimo, con questo presuposito verrò a scriverti quel che humanamente non vorrei, ma, come cristiano et cognoscitore delli gran doni che da Dio ho sempre ricevuti, non ingrato d’essi, bisogna che accetti tutto quello che esso ci manda per buono, sì come io accetto in quel che di sotto ti dirò, et sì come questo che di presente è occorso, così veramente ho ricevuto dalla sua santa mano, come quel che mai erra. Così, sendo lui immortale, santissimo, sommo bene et ogni speranza et riposo nostro, dico, se la morte istessa in questo punto succedesse, allegramente riceverei, non come huomo, ma come infima creatura sua, venendo da sua santa mano mi conformerei con la sua istessa voluntà. Né in questo saprei io trovare miglior modo di consolar me stesso et te insieme che darti l’istesso esemplo di quel che in questo caso farò io, et di quel che tu fare debbi, che è ricevere da Dio per bene fatto // 107v// tutto quello che sopra noi accade, come quello che non erra mai. Ma noi bene mai facciamo altro che errare, et dare occasione alla sua divina maestà di farci conoscer che non nella nostra prudenza, stati, valore o nobilità consistono l’attioni nostre, ma nella sua santa mano, dalla quale lasciandoci guidare, et ricognoscendo ogni bene da esso, dobbiamo cercar di non offenderlo et, nel resto, quanto segue sempre tenere per ben fatto et non punto appartarci dal suo volere. In questa materia non mai crederei finire di scriver, s’io non ti 78 ASF, Mediceo del Principato, 327, ff. 107r–110v, copy. Our transcription is taken directly from the copy at the ASF, but was also checked against the version published in Medici, Le lettere, pp. 183–186. We have added accents, punctuation and indenting according to current usage.

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cognoscessi tanto prudente che, pigliando l’esemplo da me, non vorrai tu né opporti al volere divino, né a me dare questo discontento in questa coniuntura. Il caso è questo che, dopo l’essere quel angelo di don Garzia, tuo fratello, stato malato 20 giorni, con dire li medici che qualche volta pareva loro netto, et stando per uscire di letto, gli ricominciò una febbre vehemente et assai ardente. Et al secondo parosismo gli trahemmo sangue per la vena circa sei once, et non giovando et volendo andare la materia alla testa, l’altro dì sussequente di nuovo con le coppette se gli trasse altre 4 once con esse. Crebbe sempre il male, sino al settimo, et nel ottavo, come fu la voluntà di Dio, andò al cielo. Dico al cielo perché con un animo constantissimo, non solo ricevé la morte ma, come un san Paulo, dui dì innanzi chiese la confessione et communione, et predicava la gloria di Dio alli circumstanti. Et un giorno innanzi che morisse chiese l’estrema untione con parole che ogni padre doverebbe desiderar d’haver di //108r// questi angeli nella vita eterna, quando Dio è servito; così morendo con un sentimento et allegrezza come se quelle fussino le nozze del suo sponsalitio et con un animo intrepido, di sorte che non alla morte ma alla gloria andava. Ma come potrò io finire questa lettera, dovendo ancora narrar cose di maggior dolore in parte et di allegrezza nel altra, dico d’allegrezza in chi, lasciate le cose mondane, risguarda solo il cielo et non la terra con le sue miserie et vanità? Con l’aiuto divino ancora bisogna ch’io dica più: la duchessa, per la battuta improvvisa del male del cardinale,79 s’afflisse assai, patì assai disagi in quelli pochi giorni et, venuta in Pisa, havendola assai consolata, cominciò la sua quotidiana febbre a darle più molestia et incominciò a perder il gusto; pure s’andava trattenendo. In questo comparì la nuova malattia a don Garzia, et cominciò a travagliarla, et a perder più il gusto, et ancora a non volere lasciarsi governar da’ medici, come sai che era suo solito. Sopragiunse l’aggravar di don Garzia et poi la morte, la quale, ancorché gli tenessimo celata, era tanta l’ansia e ’l non dormir che faceva, che ogni giorno peggiorava, tanto che, da per se stessa disperandosi et affliggendosi, faceva peggio che se saputa l’havesse. Ma pur stando senza dirgliele, sendo di quel grande spirito che era, s’accorse certo lui essere morto, onde ci parve meglio dirgli che stava male assai et con questo trattenerla //108v// che negarli il tutto. Così, alla fine, da se stessa si cominciò a quietare nel di fuora, et dire che accettava per bene l’essere morto don Garzia; et ancorché se gli negasse, mai volse accettare altro. Seguitò questo tre giorni. Poi gli sopragiunse una mala febre, la quale in duoi termini gli cessò, et gli restorono le sue febbri con grande 79 Giovanni de’ Medici, their fourth child, had suffered a relapse of malaria and passed away on 20 November. Born in 1543, he had been named archbishop of Pisa and elevated to the rank of cardinal three years earlier (31 January 1560).

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inappetentia: ma, combattuta da me, si cibava molto più che non haveva fatto per l’addietro, et n’haveva di bisognio, perché nella morte del cardinale stette tre giorni che quasi non mangiò et non dormì; et sempre, sino di questa estate, hebbe quella tossa che sai gli era solita, et hora tanto più. Onde, aumentando questo catarro, incominciò a levargli il poter bene respirar, et la febbre pur diminuendo, ma non possendo durar molti giorni, con un sentimento et valore strasordinario, parlando sempre, confessandosi tre dì prima et communicandosi, chiedendo un giorno innanzi l’estrema untione et facendo prima un honoratissimo testamento in mia presentia, pensando così prima a l’anima et poi a’ suoi servitori, nelle mie – si può dir – braccia rese l’anima a Dio, sendo stata dui giorni con intero iuditio aspettando la morte, quasi sempre con il crucifisso in mano, et stando a seder sul letto et ragionando domesticamente della morte come se fusse stato un negotiar: et sin’ a l’ultima hora parlò et conobbe tutti come se fusse stata in sanità. Si è trovato che il suo male era l’esser guasto il pulmone et di lunga mano. Onde, considerato il di //109r// sopra, et condonando in sacrifitio li duoi tanto rari figlioli et la rarissima tua madre a Dio, mi son consolato con il suo volere et con restarmi ancora tu et li dui altri tuoi fratelli et la duchessa di Bracciano, i quali con me insieme si truovono qui. Et don Hernando si truova al sicuro del suo male, con la gratia di Dio, perché le febbri son quartane et, ancorché siano tre, son piccole et senza alcuno accidente: anzi, credo che presto qualcuna si partirà. Consolati adunque et ringratia Dio d’ogni suo voler, servilo et pregalo che ti indirizzi conforme al voler suo, et che ti dia consolatione di questi successi, sì come egli solo lo può fare. Né io certo ho trovato in questi casi altra consolatione che quella che Dio m’ha data: così fa tu ancora, né creder che moiamo sol noi in queste parti, perché per tutta Italia è morta una infinità di gente, ancorché di già cessa questa influentia. Il particular di queste malattie si scrive minutamente al vescovo;80 et a quelli signori nostri parenti dirai, da mia parte, che l’amore portato in vita alla duchessa debbo hora tanto più mostrarlo in morte in servirli, quanto la sua memoria mai è per uscirmi del quore, onde, non potendo impiegar in lei, son obligato farlo in quelli che restano. Ben desidererei non mi fusse rinnovato, con mandarmi a consolar, queste memorie passate, perché son troppe et troppo fresche, et havendomi consolato Dio, li homini non possono arrivar a questo segno, anzi pensando farsi l’uno, 80 Probably Giovan Battista Ricasoli, formerly bishop of Cortona and later of Pistoia (1560– 72), sent by Cosimo I as ambassador to Rome. While Cosimo’s letter to Francesco would serve also to inform the emperor of Eleonora’s death, his letter to Bishop Ricasoli, his ambassador in Rome, would inform the pope.

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si viene a far l’altro. Et al signor duca d’Alva, sendo padre di tutti, bacerai le mani in mio nome et gli dirai che hora è tempo che mi comandi, perché, servendolo, sarà la consolatione della perdita ch’io ho fatta. Dio ti conservi et ti dia consolatione. Di Pisa. //110v// Al principe, il 18 di dicembre 1562.

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Appendix B Letter from Francisco Estrada to Diego Laínez Sent from Pisa, 16 January 1563.81 //f. 196r// Molto reverendo Padre nostro in Christo. Gratia et pax Christi sit semper in cordibus nostris. Arrivai a Pisa et trovai la signora duchessa molto amalata, et volse Sua Eccellenza che molto spesso la visitassi et facessi compagnia in quella sua infirmità, et lei molte volte mi mandava a chiamare, trovandosi con molto bisogno di consolatione perche, oltre alla morte del cardinale,82 intendeva la grave infirmità dell’altro suo figlio don Gratia. Il quale morse appresso la camera dove lei stava malata, et non fu possibile occultargli la sua morte per le molte domande che sopra quello faceva alli medici. Et così bisognò che, con licentia del duca et stando egli presente, io la consolassi con proporgli la patientia di Job quando hebbe la nuova della83 morte di tanti suoi figluoli et figluole et con altri esempi, con che fu dal Signore consolata et alquanto quietata. Nondimeno gli fece tanta impressione questa morte che, crescendole il male, la condusse all’estremo; et essendo esortata a confessarsi et far testamento, mi mandò a chiamare per confessarsi da me, et così si confessò due volte et pigliò il santissimo sacramento et la estrema untione il medesimo dì che morse, et fece alcune sclamationi domandando a Dio misericordia et con molte parole di compuntione et sentimento interiore ricomandando al Signore l’anima sua //f. 196v//. In quell’ultimo giorno della sua vita, il Signore gli dette molto conoscimento, massime doppoi che, essendo per alcuni disingannata della speranza che haveva di vivere, si risolse a dover morire, et così parlandola io sopra il accettare la morte di buona voglia come cosa mandata da Iddio et dechiarandole quelle parole: ‘Lettatus sum in is quae ditta sunt mihi: in domum domini ibimus,’84 lei, levando85 gli occhi al cielo, disse: ‘Fiat voluntas tua sicut in celo et in terra,’ con altre parole in che mostrava conformità con il divino volere. Et chiamando uno principale di sua 81 ARSI, Ital. 122, ff. 196r–197r (old 225r–226r), Francisco Estrada to Diego Laínez, ‘Pisa, 16 Jan. 1563, Franc. Strada de Ducissae morte et de sua infirmitate.’ This letter is the reply to Laínez’s letter in Lainii Monumenta, 6:598–599 (28 December 1562), Laínez to Estrada. It is quoted in Scaduto, Il governo, p. 584, n. 44. 82 Giovanni de’ Medici; see above, n. 79. 83 Ms.: dell’ followed by three letters struck out. 84 Psalm 121, 1. 85 Ms.: levavando.

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casa, comandò che subito pigliassi la posta et andasse a paghare tutti li suoi debiti, desiderando lei vedergli pagati inanzi che morissi. Doppo questo, mostrandogli un crocifisso, lo pigliò et baciò molte volte, con molte parole et segni di devotione et con questo occupandosegli il petto perse il parlare et quelli che erano intorno al suo letto faccendo oratione et raccomandando a Iddio l’anima sua, si approssimò il suo transito et, mettendole io la candela benedetta in mano et dicendo: ‘In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum,’ lei rese lo spirito suo al Creatore circa le due hore della notte. Et venendo frati et cappellani che accompagnasseno il corpo, quella notte io me ne andai al duca et stetti con lui solo circa due hore. Il quale ha pigliato questa visitatione del Signore con molta pat[ien]tia et fortezza di animo, essendo ancora preparato per ogni altra cosa che il Signore vorrà da lui et dalle cose sue, et così attende con molta diligenza a esequire il testamento et pagar li debiti et fare molte altre opere pie. Et questo è quello che occorre dire quanto alla morte della duchessa et suoi figli. //c. 197r// Quanto a me, come arrivai in questa terra convalescente, et bisognò subito di giorno et di notte attendere et assistere alli amalati: mi ha fatto molta impressione et causato molti giorni di indispositione. L’occhio mio sta poco o niente meglio che in Fiorenza: non veggo con quello se non qualche ombre delle cose in confusso. Con l’altro veggo chiaro, ma sta mol[to] tenero et in pericolo di perdersi, secondo e’ medici hanno detto, et per questo mi è prohibito il leggere, scribere, studiare et predicare et ogni esercitio che causa inflamatione di testa. Et con tutto questo, per honor di queste feste, ho fatto cinque o sei prediche in certi monesteri di monache che stanno presso il palazzo del duca et con predicare sedendo in una sedia, et con la voce non troppo alta; sento havermi fatto danno al capo. Et per rimedio di quello, seguirò il conseglio delli medici, li quali si trovano qui molti et dotti perché il duca gli ha fatti venire per curare un altro suo figluolo chiamato don Fernando, il quale è stato molto amalato, et non senza pericolo. Il Signor Nostro li dia sanità. Et a Vostra Paternità et a tutti gratia di sempre cognoscere et perfettamente adimpire sua santissima volontà. Di Pisa alli 16 di gennaio 1563. D.V.P. Servo inutile nel Signore Strada.

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Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence. Archivio di Stato (ASF) Mediceo del Principato (MdP) 327, 357, 361, 370, 1171, 5922a Possessioni 4136–4138 Strozziane, I, 49, ‘Lettere della duchessa Eleonora in assenza del duca Cosimo nel 1541. Registro del Segretario Pagni al duca Cosimo nel 1542’ Florence. Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze (BNCF) Fondo Nazionale II.IV.19 ‘Diario del 1536 del Marucelli’ Rome. Archivum Romanum Societatis Jesu (ARSI) Ital. 107–109, 112, 115–116, 122

Published Sources Aboab Imanuel. Nomologia o discursos legales. [Amsterdam]: Estampados á costa, y despeza de sus herederos, 5389 [i.e. 1629]. Blaisdell, Charmarie J. ‘Calvin’s and Loyola’s Letters to Women: Politics and Spiritual Counsel in the Sixteenth Century,’ pp. 235–253 in Calviniana: Ideas and Influence of Jean Calvin, ed. Robert V. Schnucker. Sixteenth Century Essays & Studies, 10. Kirksville, MO: The Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1988. Cassuto, Umberto. Gli ebrei a Firenze nell’età del Rinascimento. Florence: Tipografia Galletti e Cocci, 1918. Cronaca fiorentina, 1537–1555, ed. Enrico Coppi. Florence: L.S. Olschki, 2000. Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 51. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1998. Epistolae mixtae ex variis Europae locis ab anno 1537 ad 1556 scriptae: nunc primum a patribus Societatis Jesu in lucem editae, 5 vols. Madrid: Augustinus Avrial, 1898–1901. Firpo, Massimo. Gli affreschi di Pontormo a San Lorenzo. Eresia, politica e cultura nella Firenze di Cosimo I. Torino: Giuli Einaudi editore, 1997. Franceschini, Chiara. ‘La corte di Renata di Francia (1528–1560),’ pp. 185–214 in Storia di Ferrara, vol. 6, Il Rinascimento. Situazioni e personaggi, ed. A. Prosperi. Ferrara: Corbo Editore, 2000. Hernando Sánchez, Carlos José. Castilla y Nápoles en el siglo XVI. El virrey Pedro de Toledo. Linaje, estado y cultura (1532–1553). Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León, 1994. Hibbard, Caroline M. ‘The Role of a Queen Consort. The Household and Court of Henrietta Maria, 1625–1642,’ pp. 392–414 in Princes, Patronage and the Nobility. The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age, c. 1450–1650, eds Ronald G. Asch and Adolf M. Birke. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Lainii Monumenta. Epistolae et acta patris Jacobi Lainii, 8 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 44, 45, 47, 49–51, 53, 55. Madrid: Gabriel Lopez del Horno, 1912– 17. Litterae Quadrimestres ex universis praeter Indiam et Brasiliam locis in quibus aliqui de Societate Jesu versabantur Romam missae, 7 vols. Monumenta historica

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Societatis Iesu, 4, 6, 8, 10, 59, 61, 62. Madrid and Rome: Augustinus Avrial, 1894– 1932. Medici, Cosimo. Lettere, ed. Giorgio Spini. Firenze: Vallecchi, 1940. Monumenta Ignatiana. Sancti Ignatii de Loyola Societatis Jesu fundatoris epistolae et instructiones, 12 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 22, 26, 28, 29, 31, 33, 34, 36, 37, 39, 40, 42. Madrid: Gabrielis Lopez del Horno, 1903–11. O’Malley, John W. The First Jesuits. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993. Polanci Complementa. Epistolae et commentaria P. Joannis Alphonsi de Polanco, 2 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 52, 54. Madrid: Gabrielis Lopez del Horno, 1916–17. Polanco, Juan Alfonso de. Vita Ignatii Loiolae et rerum Societatis Jesu historica [Chronicon]. 6 vols. Monumenta historica Societatis Iesu, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11. Madrid: Augustinus Avrial, 1894–98. Polizzotto, Lorenzo. ‘Confraternities, Conventicles and Political Dissent: The Case of the Savonarolan “Capi rossi”’, Memorie domenicane n.s. 16 (1985), pp. 235– 283. Polizzotto, Lorenzo. The Elect Nation. The Savonarolan Movement in Florence 1494– 1545. Oxford: Clarendon Press/New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. Rahner, Hugo. Ignazio di Loyola e le donne del suo tempo. Milan: Edizioni Paoline, 1968 (first edition: Briefwechsel mit Frauen: mit 16 Bildtafeln. Freiburg: Verlag Herder, 1956). Scaduto, Mario. L’epoca di Giacomo Lainez. Il governo, 1556–1565, Storia della Compagnia di Gesù in Italia, 3. Rome: La civiltà cattolica, 1964. Scaduto, Mario. L’epoca di Giacomo Laínez, 1556–1565. L’azione. Storia della Compagnia di Gesù in Italia, 4. Rome: La civiltà cattolica, 1974. Tacchi Venturi, Pietro. ‘Una lettera inedita di Sant’Ignazio di Loiola alla duchessa Leonora di Toscana,’ Civiltà Cattolica 49, III, s. 17 (1898), pp. 147–159. Tacchi Venturi, Pietro. Storia della Compagnia di Gesù in Italia, 2 vols. Rome: La civiltà cattolica, 1938–1951. Tolaini, Emilio. Forma Pisarum. Storia urbanistica della città di Pisa. Problemi e ricerche. Pisa: Nistri-Lischi, 1979.

Chapter 9

The Burial Attire of Eleonora di Toledo Mary Westerman Bulgarella

The Medici were all buried in the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence.1 In 1857, after several tomb robberies and unauthorized openings, Grand Duke Leopoldo II ordained that the coffins be opened, examined and suitably rearranged. Almost a century later the tombs were reopened once more, this time for the sake of anthropological research. At this time, the burial garments worn by Duke Cosimo I, his wife, Eleonora di Toledo and their young son, don Garzia were transferred to the National Museum of the Bargello.2 In April 1983 these clothes were consigned for conservation to the Galleria del Costume at Palazzo Pitti. The importance and rarity of these garments was immediately understood, so much so that international specialists from various fields were brought together to collaborate in this unique endeavour. The conservation project took ten years to complete. Its observations and discoveries can now offer historians in a variety of disciplines a new set of facts to support, revise or elaborate their understanding of the Medici and their court in the mid-Cinquecento. The task of conserving the burial attire of Cosimo, Eleonora and Garzia presented enormous difficulties because of the extremely decomposed state of the fabrics, and due to the lack of any precise visual aid to the identification of the individual garments. During the project’s initial phase the various articles of clothing were sorted out, before proceeding with their subsequent conservation. The only guides for identifying the pieces were the report written in 1857 during the official tomb openings3 and the photographs taken by the Gabinetto Fotografico of the Soprintendenza per i Beni Artistici e 1 This chapter is a summary of the work done on the burial attire of Eleonora di Toledo and is part of a book project on the entire conservation and research of the Medici burial clothes. 2 For an account of the various tomb openings and their related documents see Moda alla Corte dei Medici, pp. 7–9. 3 Archivio di Stato di Firenze (henceforth, ASF), Trattati Internazionali, 250, published in Sommi Picenardi, ‘Esumazione e Ricognizione,’ pp. 333–343.

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Storici in 1968 and 1979, which in several instances were misleading (Figure 9.1). The burial attire of Eleonora di Toledo was the first group of garments to be examined, researched, documented, conserved and displayed. This group was prioritized primarily because at that time the late Janet Arnold was compiling material for her book on the cut and construction of mid-sixteenthcentury clothes and wanted to include information on Eleonora’s dress.4 Had we not seized this opportunity, it would not have been possible to understand the meaning of what Arnold described in her preliminary report as ‘a satin gown in one large heap, the back of the bodice, thought to be the front, lying uppermost.’5 When the dress arrived in the laboratory, the bodice and the remains of the skirt were already detached. No sleeves were found, although it has been suggested that this dress would have been worn with a sleeved overdress or zimarra. Undoubtedly it was worn with a linen chemise, but no trace of this garment in vegetable fibre survived. Under the silk satin bodice there was another bodice in dark reddish-brown silk-cut velvet. Accompanying the dress were a pair of silk knitted stockings and crumpled up strips of silk thought to be garters. A preliminary examination revealed that the satin bodice was decorated with a series of applied embroidered guards that outline the square neckline, the shoulder straps and the line of the closures on the back, the centre and sides of the front. Once turned right side up, it became apparent that the embroidered guards of the front were tangled and caught up across the neckline, and that there was a large tuck with a pin through it on the shoulder. Gradually the guards were repositioned, starting with the one erroneously placed across the neckline. This was shifted down the centre front and terminated in a point. Two more guards were unravelled and repositioned to each side of the central one. At this stage it was thought that the guards were parallel to one another, but further investigation and conservation proved that the side guards slope towards the centre front at the waist. The two bodices were separated by carefully opening up the satin one and lifting the velvet one out from it. The inside of the satin bodice was now revealed and gave us an understanding of its cut and construction. The bodice consists of two parts: the back portion is cut on the straight and includes the majority of the shoulder straps; the front is cut ending in a V at the waist and is attached to the back at the shoulders. There are two side closures with silk strings that passed through worked eyelets originally reinforced with copper 4 5

Arnold, Patterns of Fashion, pp. 40–41, 102–104. Arnold, ‘Preliminary Investigation,’ p. 154.

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Figure 9.1

Eleonora di Toledo’s burial attire before conservation in a photograph taken in 1968. Gabinetto Fotografico Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze (by permission of the Ministero dei beni e le attività culturali)

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rings. A fragment of satin from the front was still laced to the back on one side. On the other, the lacing from the time of Eleonora’s dressing for burial was still intact. The ends of the strings were broken and missing their copper aglets. The bodice was originally lined in linen, most of which had disintegrated, but small fragments were found held in place under the stitching of the embroidery. This indicated that the bodice was lined before the guards were stitched onto the satin. The remains of the skirt were then examined. Gradually many telltale details emerged from the pile of decomposed satin and crumpled embroidery. The first of these was a piece of embroidery that terminated in a V, indicating that it must correspond with that of the bodice and therefore be the central waist point. This strip was carefully separated from the rest of the pile and gently extended. The rest of the embroidery, in one long continuous strip, was untangled from the pile of satin. While most of the embroidery was encrusted with body fluids, some areas that had been hidden in folds had maintained a splendour close to the original and therefore an analysis of the technique could be made. The decoration of both the bodice and skirt is in dark brown cut velvet embroidered in two weights of silver-gilt metal thread on a silk core. The heavier of the two threads was used for the outline, couched double to give extra thickness. The fillings were of the finer metal thread. In some places this was stitched through the velvet support. The outline and voided areas of the velvet were cut away to reveal the underlying satin onto which it was applied. The embroidered bands are bordered on each side with silver-gilt metal trim with small woven purls on its edges. Joins found in the embroidery bands not corresponding to those of the cut of the dress and the grain of the velvet’s weave not the same as the underlying satin indicated that the guards were most likely recycled from another dress. This, we know, was a common practice in the sixteenth century. A right angle of the border trim indicated the join of the central vertical strip to the hem. The guards were the most essential guidelines for the reshaping of the skirt’s cut. At first it was thought that this might perhaps be circular, but, as the flattening and repositioning began, quite a different shape started to emerge (see Figure 9.2). The embroidery, although legible, was covered with powdered silk and fragments of fabric. This extraneous matter was mechanically removed by first lifting off any loose fragments and systematically classifying them according to their colour, shape, size and degree of deterioration. The remaining pulverized silk and broken fibres were removed using a micro suction pump constructed for this purpose. What survived of the skirt’s satin panels, however, was in a far more advanced state of decay, varying from pulverized to heavily encrusted with

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Figure 9.2

Eleonora’s dress after conservation. Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti. Photo: Marcello Bertoni (by permission of the Ministero dei beni e le attività culturali)

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dried body fluids. The original stitching had disintegrated, so the panels could be treated individually. Thus began the long and tedious work of separating, flattening and repositioning the fragments again according to their shape, colour, size and degree of decomposition. Many sartorial details such as seams, stitch marks, cut or folded edges and selvages gave an indication of positioning. Larger fragments were treated with a direct application of a solution of distilled water and alcohol; this relaxed the fabric and allowed it to be flattened and dried under weights. ‘Cleaning,’ per se, was not a conservation procedure used in this project. It was thanks to the impregnated body fluids that a large percentage of the dress had been preserved, and to try to ‘wash’ them out would have caused more textile loss. Part of our goal, in fact, was to preserve what evidence of ‘life’ still remained in the burial clothes. Again, any extraneous materials were mechanically lifted off and classified for future analysis and all the powdered satin and broken fibres were removed with the micro vacuum apparatus. The perpendicular realignment of warp and weft of the smaller and more fragile fragments took place on a transparent illuminated work table with a grid surface as a guide. During the flattening phase, many fragments of satin with an approximately 2.5 cm fold were found. One of these was still attached to the upper edge of the embroidered hem guard. The fold continued around the entire hemline, and it was here that most of the satin had broken away from the embroidery. The central vertical embroidered guard also ended with this fold; this indicated that the tuck was made after the dress was constructed. What few stitches of the fold remained were carefully studied and documented before being removed in order to open the fold and continue with the flattening and subsequent consolidation of the satin. It was inside the fold on one of the front panels of the skirt that a golden yellow colour, close to the original, was revealed. Once the individual panels were flattened and partially recomposed and the embroidery guards repositioned, consolidation, or more precisely supporting, could begin. Panels of a sheer pre-dyed polyester material were pre-treated with sponged-on coatings of a thermoplastic polyvinyl resin.6 The polyester support fabric was then applied to the underside of the satin and secured using a heated spatula. Once the panel was supported, it could be turned over and other loose fragments could be attached to the front. This technique was carefully studied and planned in order to allow future application of fragments to the support substratum. At the time of application it was 6 Sheer polyester (Stabiltex) was chosen as a support fabric because of its durability, availability in pre-dyed colours, and its adaptability for sponged-on coatings of the polyvinyl acetate (PVA) adhesive.

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decided to adhere only fragments that had a sure location and not ‘fill in’ missing areas with arbitrary bits and pieces. In order to recompose the skirt panels without compromising the consolidated textile, tracings of each panel were made. Positioning trials were therefore carried out on the tracings before moving the supported pieces. The tuck was an important indicator of the exact positioning of the panels along the upper edge of the embroidered hem band. The pattern of the stains in the folds of the skirt also served as a guide when relocating the panels in relation to one another. The hem was faced with a bias-cut strip of satin that has decorative slits cut along the lower edge. These slits protruded slightly on the right side of the dress to give a decorative finish to the hemline. This was typical of dress embellishment during the sixteenth century and is seen on other clothes worn by Eleonora, such as the neckline of the dress she wore for her portrait by Bronzino now in the Národní Galerie Prague (see Figure 2.7). The bias strip was still attached to the rest of the skirt by a few stitches and inside it were traces of wool felt interlining. This once served as padding for the embroidered hem, thus giving it the weight and substance that helped prevent the hem from curling in. Both the bias strip and remnants of wool were removed. The satin was supported in the same manner as the other panels and relocated in its original position. Portions of the embroidery were either raised or detached from the satin substratum in several areas. After being carefully repositioned, they were stitched with silk thread to the original satin and/or to the polyester support fabric. The satin of the bodice was treated in the same manner as that of the skirt. After detailed documentation and flattening, the broken fragment of satin from the front that was still laced to the back was unlaced and replaced in its original position. Two distinctly cut bits of taffeta were also discovered among the masses of tattered satin. When isolated and flattened out, it was understood that they were portions of an inner pocket, which would have been secured in the waist of the bodice and the skirt. We then lined the entire front piece of the bodice on the underside with the pre-treated polyester fabric and then backed it with felt. The only surface that we did not line in any way was the back portion of the bodice. Because it was the most heavily impregnated with body fluids, it was the most intact; it was therefore left as a document of the internal construction of the dress. Although the conserved bodice and skirt remained flat, there were some three-dimensional details which survived. These were the join of one of the shoulder straps, the original lacing of one side, and the placket of the skirt opening that has an interface lining in the same taffeta as the pocket.

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Once supported and recomposed, the skirt was placed on yet another fabric that had the dual function of giving it a uniform underlayer as well as visually integrating the missing areas. After several unsuccessful attempts with a woven fabric, it was decided to use a non-woven pressed felt. Not having a warp and weft, the moiré effect that results from one sheer woven fabric being placed over another woven one was eliminated. Having to make joins in the support fabric could be avoided because the pressed felt was available in oversized widths. Being non-woven, it was possible to cut all the edges precisely without the need to hem or refinish the borders. Moreover, when in contact with the polyester, the felt pile created a slight adhesion that joined the two surfaces together. Now conserved, the dress was mounted on a large panel that made viewing and transportation possible.7 As a full view photograph shows (Figure 9.2), the areas on which Eleonora’s body decomposed, that is, the back of the bodice and the train of the skirt, are clearly more intact, even though the colour is different when compared to the original. If closely examined, one can even see the impressions left from her femurs and her feet. When Eleonora’s casket was opened in 1857, a description of its contents was made as scientifically as thought possible. It must be remembered, however, that those doing the describing were government functionaries, doctors and notaries, not archaeologists, scientists or costume historians. The conditions under which they were working must also have been far from ideal. The remains of a non-embalmed woman found in an evidently violated and broken wood casket were said to give no particular indication as to who she was, but, according to the medical examination of the bones, her age was given as someone who was not ‘old’ but over thirty years of age at the time of death.8 In fact, Eleonora died in 1562 at the age of 42. Further identification of the body as that of Eleonora was possible because of what they described as … the rich attire, fashioned according to the taste of the first half of the sixteenth century, plus some tresses of reddish-blonde hair wrapped in a gold snood, in all 7 Eleonora’s conserved dress was first displayed with an accompanying exhibition in the Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti, December 1987–March 1988. 8 ‘In una cassa di legno, ridotta in pessimo stato ed evidentemente violata, giaceva un cadavere di donna che non era imbalsamato. Nessuna memoria fu ritrovata, che indicasse a cui fossero appartenuti quei resti, ma dall’età dell’individuo, accertata dall’ispezione medica fatta sulle ossa, fu dato indizio che fossero quelli gli avanzi della Duchessa Eleonora di Toledo.’ Sommi Picenardi, ‘Esumazione e ricognizione,’ pp. 341–342. Footnote 3 to this chapter cites the results of the bone analysis by Professor Luigi Paganucci and Doctor Bernardo Tarugi as follows: ‘L’ispezione delle ossa, e singolarmente di quelle del cranio, indicava questo scheletro appartenente a persona morta in età superiore ai trent’anni, ma non vecchia. Infatti, Eleonora morì di 42 anni.’ Loc. cit.

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ways similar to that painted by Bronzino in the portrait of this Princess, conserved in the Royal Uffizi Gallery.9

This simple reference to the similarity of the famous image of the duchess has led historians for over 150 years to believe erroneously that Eleonora was buried in the dress depicted by Bronzino. The commission then continued to describe the dress which covered the cadaver as ‘very lacerated, in white satin, floor length with a richly embroidered galloon which decorated the bodice, down the skirt and along the hem.’10 The drops of candle wax found down the front of Eleonora’s dress probably result from that examination. The dim lighting at the time of the examination may well have caused those documenting the findings to describe the dress as ‘white.’ Current dye analysis confirmed that the dress was never white, but rather a golden yellow (Reseda luteola L.). The description ends saying that under the first dress there was another one in crimson velvet. Obviously the examiners saw only the bodice and assumed there was an entire underdress. Mention is also made of the silk stockings of the same crimson colour. Once the crimson velvet bodice was separated from the satin one, it could be properly examined and conservation procedures could commence. It is composed of three principal parts (one back, two fronts) plus an inserted gore on each side at the waist. The front closure had 18 paired hoods and eyes, of which 17 have survived. These are in iron and are heavily corroded and encrusted with rust. The lower ones were impressed into the velvet, indicating an overlapping of about 5 cm more than the original closure. The velvet was in an advanced state of deterioration, with the pile abraded and entirely missing in several areas. After gradual flattening and repositioning, the shoulder straps were reunited and the broken areas were reinforced with pieces of dyed sheer silk crepeline that covered dyed felt sewn into place behind the velvet. As with the satin bodice, the velvet one was left opened on its support mount. A drawing illustrates the shape it would have when worn.11 Although they were quite crumpled and lacerated, Eleonora’s red (Rubia tinctorum L.) silk knitted stockings were readily recognizable. On careful 9 ‘Le ricche vesti, foggiate secondo la moda della metà del secolo XVI, e più alcune treccie di capelli di color biondo tendente al rosso, attorte da una cordicella d’oro e simili in tutto a quelli dipinti dal Bronzino nel ritratto di questa Principessa, conservato nella R. Galleria degli Uffizi, ne porsero certezza per stabilire l’identità del cadavere.’ Sommi Picenardi, ‘Esumazione e ricognizione,’ p. 342. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations are mine. 10 ‘La veste che lo ricuopre, non poco lacera, è di raso bianco, lungo fino a terra e riccamente ricamata a gallone nel busto, lungo la sottana e nella balza da piè.’ Sommi Picenardi, ‘Esumazione e ricognizione,’ p. 342. 11 Moda alla Corte dei Medici, p. 66, Figure 37.

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analysis of the knitting technique,12 it was observed that one of the stockings was turned inside out. Together with the stockings were two strips of silk fabric, which were wound twice and casually knotted. These were thought to be silk garters, but instead they turned out to be the strips of fabric used to tie together Eleonora’s arms and legs in her coffin. In fact, there are distinct marks around the ankles of the stocking where the longer of the two strips would have been tied. The measurements of these ties also correspond to the size of bound wrists and ankles. Once all the loose powdered silk fibre was removed, the stockings were gently steamed and reshaped. Inserts of dyed felt proved suitable for the integration of the missing areas. When first displayed, the velvet bodice and the silk stockings were placed on separate mounting supports in juxtaposition to one another next to the conserved dress. The analysis of the cut and construction details of Eleonora’s burial attire was carried out over ten years of conservation work, particularly during Janet Arnold’s many visits to Florence and through the constant exchange of letters containing observations, notes and drawings. This enabled Arnold to make a complete detailed pattern of Eleonora’s dress as well as a drawing that gives a visualization of the shape of the dress when worn (Figure 9.3).13 When the conservation was completed, Eleonora’s dress was displayed in the Galleria del Costume in Palazzo Pitti (June–December 1993) accompanied by a calico toile. By the time the conservation of all of the Medici burial outfits had been completed, a facsimile of the dress worn by Eleonora di Toledo had been created and was presented. The Antico Seteficio Fiorentino wove the satin and the gilt braid identical to the original. The dress was cut and constructed by Janet Arnold following her own accurate patterns. An attempt was made to recreate the metal embroidery and velvet guards, but this was never completed. In their place a facsimile of the guards was made by drawing the design on transparent sheeting with coloured felt-tip markers and then stitching the cut-out strips onto the satin. The end results give the effect of the three-dimensional dress and its decor (Figure 9.4).14 During the conservation project more and more information came to light regarding the life, death and burial of Eleonora di Toledo. Her burial attire consisted of clothing worn in life and not in mint condition. In addition to the discovery that the embroidered guards were most likely recycled from 12 Moda alla Corte dei Medici, p. 86; Rutt, A History of Hand Knitting, pp. 71–72; for a detailed knitting pattern see Strehl, ‘Instructions for Eleonora’s Stockings’, p. 13. 13 Arnold, Patterns of Fashion, p. 104; Moda alla Corte de’ Medici, p. 65, Figure 35. 14 Arnold, ‘Make or Break,’ p. 41.

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Figure 9.3

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Drawing of Eleonora’s dress (front and back) if worn (copyright Janet Arnold)

another gown, crude repairs were also found on the neckline of the velvet bodice where the shoulder straps had pulled from overuse. The overlapping of the velvet bodice and the cinching in at the waist of the satin give one the impression that the duchess was, in fact, much smaller than the original size of her clothes. Written and visual documents inform us that she was ill during her last years of life and was much thinner than she appears

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Facsimile of Eleonora’s dress. Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti. Photo: Mary Westerman Bulgarella (by permission of the Ministero dei beni e le attività culturali)

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in earlier images.15 At first the 2.5 cm tuck, which runs the entire length of the hemline, was thought to have served to shorten an older dress for wear in Eleonora’s later years when she had become thinner because of her illness. Another dress thought to have belonged to Eleonora has recently been discovered and conserved in Pisa, where she resided before her death. This dress has the same tuck, and its measurements closely match those of the dress in Florence.16 If the tuck was made in order to shorten her dress because of her weight loss when ill, then we could calculate Eleonora’s height to have been 1.70 m, which would make her quite tall for a woman of her day. If, on the other hand, the 2.5 cm tuck was an ornamental detail made at the time the dress was created, then we can conclude that the 1.40 m long dress was for a woman approximately 1.68 m tall. The analysis of her bones carried out at the Anthropological Institute of the University of Florence indicates that Eleonora was about 1.56 m tall.17 The length of her dress, therefore, most likely included her height when wearing raised platform shoes called sciapìn,18 which we know could considerably heighten the wearer.19 Tucks in skirts are often clearly depicted in Spanish court portraits of the sixteenth century, of both female adults and children.20 The reason for such tucks has thus far only been hypothesized and needs further investigation.21 15 See documents cited in Pieraccini, La stirpe de’ Medici, pp. 55–70, and Bronzino’s portrait of Eleonora in the National Gallery, Washington, DC. 16 L’Abito della Granduchessa, p. 39. 17 Genna, ‘Ricerche antropologiche,’ p. 593. 18 Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici, pp. 361–362, nos 735–737. 19 Moda alla Corte de’ Medici, p. 78. 20 The catalogue of the exhibition Alonso Sanchez Coello y el Retrato en la Corte de Felipe II illustrates many such portraits. However, its article on sixteenth-century Spanish court fashion makes no mention of the tucks; see Bernis, ‘La Moda en la Espana,’ pp. 65–111. The tucks, as they appear in paintings, are at times parallel to the hem of the skirt and follow the direction of the weave; otherwise, they are horizontal folds at varying heights from the skirt’s lower edge. Interestingly, there are two portraits of sitters with tucked skirts who are not directly linked to the Spanish court: one is of Margherita Borromeo with her children (Borromeo Collection, Milan), for which see Venturelli, Vestire e apparire, figure 4; the other is of an unknown woman with a scorpion on her collar (Civic Art Collection, Palazzo d’Accursio, Bologna) and is the topic of an in-depth study that also analysed tucks in portraits; see Vertova, ‘Su Carlo Ceresa ritrattista,’ pp. 101–106. I thank Grazietta Butazzi for bringing this publication to my attention. 21 In Moda alla corte de’ Medici, p. 57, Arnold surmised that ‘it may have originated from pinning the tucked dress to the farthingale beneath, as a method of shortening the skirt for walking, and crystallised into an even tuck all the way round, which helped to hold the hem out.’ Davenport, in The Book of Costume, p. 456, thought it could be a visual reference to the previous use of three-tiered skirts in the fifteenth century, reduced to just one in the sixteenth century. Boucher, in 20 000 Years of Fashion, p. 227, says that ‘a long pleat inset above the hem of the skirts made it possible to sit down without exposing one’s feet – the height of impropriety.’ None of these explanations, however, is clear or convincing.

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Figure 9.5

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Agnolo Bronzino (attrib.) Isabella de’ Medici (?). Private collection, England (by permission)

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Figure 9.6

Eleonora’s grave marker, Basilica di San Lorenzo, Florence. Photo: Mary Westerman Bulgarella (by permission of the Ministero dei beni e le attività culturali)

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Perhaps there is some type of strictly ‘Spanish’ tradition implied with this odd sartorial detail. This could be justified on Eleonora’s dress because of her Spanish origin and her continued adherence to Spanish customs while at the Medici court.22 If this is the case, it could help identify the child in a portrait attributed to Bronzino (Figure 9.5).23 Could this possibly be Eleonora’s daughter, Isabella de’ Medici, who has inherited this unusual clothing detail? It is interesting to note that not only the tuck, but also the decorative slits that finish the hem of the child’s attire, are identical to those of Eleonora’s burial dress.

Eleonora died on 17 December 1562. Her corpse was quickly prepared for transfer to Florence and burial. The rush of that preparation may well be read in her burial attire: one string of her satin bodice was haphazardly laced, skipping eyelets; one stocking was put on inside out; crude silk strips cuffed her wrists and ankles as she lay in her coffin. Fear of contagion of the malaria that had killed her son Garzia just a few days earlier and the pulmonary tuberculosis (consumption) that had caused Eleonora’s death may explain why the corpse was not embalmed; and this, in turn, would explain the significant amount of body fluids that, ironically, helped to preserve some parts of the burial clothes. Eleonora’s body arrived in Florence on 20 December; the funeral was eight days later. Contemporary sources tell us much about her death and more about her funeral.24 However, a much more real sense of her life and death can be gained through an attentive examination of a primary source that was, in a way, a direct expression of Eleonora herself – the personal attire in which she was laid to rest. Galleria del Costume Firenze, Italy

22

Franceschini, ‘Los scholares,’ pp. 184–5 and communication with the author. It has been suggested that the child in the portrait attributed to Bronzino (private collection, England), is Isabella de’ Medici (1542–76), although Langedijk listed it under ‘rejected identifications’; see Langedijk, The Portraits of the Medici, 2:1098, n. 63, 19. The attribution and identification are still questionable since there are no known full-length portraits of Medici children from the 1540s. Oral communication, Janet Cox-Rearick, 2003. 24 Moreni, Pompe Funebri, pp. 75–78; Pieraccini, La stirpe de’ Medici, pp. 55–70; Baia, Leonora, p. 82. Franceschini, ‘Los scholares,’ pp. 197–204. 23

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Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence. Archivio di Stato Trattati Internazionali, 250

Published Sources Alonso Sanchez Coello y el retrato en la corte de Felipe II, ed. Santiago Saavreda. Madrid: Museo del Prado, 1990. Arnold, Janet. ‘Make or Break: The Testing of Theory by Reproducing Historic Techniques,’ pp. 39–47 in Textile Revealed: Object Lessons in Historic Textiles and Costume Research, ed. Mary M. Brooks. London: Archetype Publications, 2000. Arnold, Janet. Patterns of Fashion: The Cut and Construction of Clothes for Men and Women c. 1560–1620. London: Macmillan, 1985; rev. ed. 1986. Arnold, Janet. ‘Preliminary Investigation into the Medici Grave Clothes,’ pp. 149– 157 in Il Costume nell’età del Rinascimento, ed. Dora Liscia Bemporad. Florence: Edifir, 1988. Baia, Anna. Leonora di Toledo, Duchessa di Firenze e di Siena, Todi: Z. Foglietti, 1907. Bernis, Carmen. ‘La Moda en la España de Felipe II a Trave del Retrato de Corte,’ pp. 65–111 in Alonso Sanchez Coello y el retrato en la corte de Felipe II, ed. Santiago Saavreda. Madrid: Museo del Prado, 1990. Boucher, François. 20 000 Years of Fashion. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1965, 1983. Davenport, Millia. The Book of Costume. New York: Crown, 1948. Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici nell’Europa del Cinquecento – Palazzo Vecchio: Committenza e collezionismo medicei. Florence: Centro Di/Milano: Electa, 1980. Franceschini, Chiara. ‘Los scholares son cosa de su excelentia, como lo es toda la Compañia: Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits,’ pp. 181–206 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Genna, Giuseppe. ‘Ricerche antropologiche sulla famiglia dei Medici,’ Rendiconti dell’Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei – Classe di Scienze Fisiche, Matematiche e Naturale 8:4 (1948), pp. 589–593. L’Abito della Granduchessa: Vesti di corte e di madonne nel Palazzo Reale di Pisa, ed. Mariagiulia Burresi. Pisa: Museo Nazionale di Palazzo Reale, 2000. Langedijk, Karla. The Portraits of the Medici: Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries. 2 vols. Florence: SPES, 1981–83. Moda alla Corte dei Medici: Gli abiti restaurati di Cosimo, Eleonora e don Garzia. Florence: Centro Di, 1993. Moreni, Domenico. Pompe funebri celebrate nell’Imperiale e Real Basilica di San Lorenzo dal secolo XIII a tutto il Regno Mediceo. Florence: Magheri, 1827. Pieraccini, Gaetano. La Stirpe de’ Medici di Cafaggiolo, 2nd ed. Florence: Vallechi, 1947. Rutt, Richard. A History of Hand Knitting. London: B.T. Batsford, 1987.

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Sommi Picenardi, Giorgio. ‘Esumazione e ricognizione delle ceneri dei Principi Medicei fatta nell’anno 1857: processo verbale e note’ Archivio Storico Italiano, 1 (1888), pp. 333–360 and 2 (1889), pp. 39–59. Strehl, Melina. ‘Instructions for Eleonora’s Stockings,’ Cast On. The Magazine for Knitters, n. 29 (Knoxville, TN: Knitting Guild of America, 1990): 13. Venturelli, Paola. Vestire e apparire. Il sistema vestimentario femminile nella Milano spagnola (1539–1679). Rome: Bulzoni Editore, 1977. Vertova, Luisa. ‘Su Carlo Ceresa ritrattista e le molte valenze degli abiti.’ Arte a Bologna, 4 (1997), pp. 95–107.

Chapter 10

La Ill.ma Sig.ra Duchessa felice memoria: The Posthumous Eleonora di Toledo Janet Cox-Rearick

The iconography of Duchess Eleonora di Toledo, wife of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, continued in a memorial mode after her death in 1562. Some aspects of Eleonora’s fortuna were determined by the duchess herself, some by Cosimo and his advisers, and others (after the duke’s death in 1574) by their sons, Grand Duke Francesco (d. 1587) and Grand Duke Ferdinando (d. 1610). This essay will touch briefly on Eleonora’s death, funeral and attendant eulogies. It will then discuss the bequests in her will, several paintings related to her that were commissioned by Cosimo from Agnolo Bronzino shortly after her death, and lastly works of art and literature that document how Francesco, Ferdinando and their advisers used their mother’s likeness and perceived virtues in promoting the ruling Medici dynasty.

Eleonora’s Death and Funeral In about 1556–7 Bronzino portrayed Eleonora for the last time in a portrait that shows the duchess, her face thin from illness (Figure 10.1),1 looking very different from the robust young matron whom he had portrayed with her son Giovanni in 1545 (Figure 2.2).2 Eleonora had suffered from tuberculosis since the early 1550s, when notices of her illness began to appear. In April 1 See Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 112a; and Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,14. For this work (and its pendant of Duke Cosimo) as state portraits painted about 1556–7 in celebration of Cosimo’s new title, Duke of Florence and Siena, see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 357, n. 73; and, with further evidence, in a book in progress, Bronzino and Eleonora di Toledo: Portraiture and Dress at the Medici Court. 2 See Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 55; and Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,10.

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Agnolo Bronzino (workshop), Eleonora di Toledo. Washington, National Gallery of Art. Replica of a lost original (by permission)

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1551 a ducal secretary, Lorenzo Pagni, reported from Pietrasanta to the court in Florence: ‘In my opinion, and that of others also, her illness is serious and will worsen every day.’3 By the late 1550s, her health had seriously declined, as attested in January 1559 by her Jesuit priest and confessor Diego de Guzmán, who visited her in Pisa, where she was ill with a fever; he reported: ‘I found her very sick and the doctors feared greatly for her life.’4 In 1561, Vincenzo Fedeli, the Venetian ambassador to Florence, described Eleonora as ‘a lady of rare liveliness,’ but he also noted that ‘This lady is always ill, and every morning she throws up her food.’5 Eleonora still continued, however, to appear in public. Ducal secretary Jacopo Guidi wrote from Pisa in April 1562 about the apparently magical cures administered by her doctor, Andrea Pasquali, following which Eleonora ‘dined in public and seemed well.’6 In October of the following year, seeking the temperate sea air, Eleonora and Cosimo took their sons Giovanni, Garzia and Ferdinando to Pisa. In his vita Benvenuto Cellini gives the family’s route to Siena, to the Maremma, Livorno and thence to Pisa.7 The duchess and her two elder sons all contracted malarial fever: Giovanni died at Livorno on 20 November,8 Garzia at Pisa, three weeks later on 12 December. Eleonora, already weakened by her increasingly acute tuberculosis, died there on 17 December 1562, attended by Cosimo and her confessor, the Jesuit father Francisco Estrada.9 Duke Cosimo’s extreme sense of personal loss upon the death of his wife and sons is expressed 3 ‘Al mio juditio, et d’altri ancora, il suo male è grande et sarà ogni giorno maggiore.’ Firenze, Archivio di Stato (henceforth, ASF), Mediceo del Principato (henceforth, MdP) 1176, ins. 10, f. 3r (25 April 1551). 4 ‘La trovai assai male et li medici molto temevano della vita sua.’ Quoted in Scaduto, L’epoca, p. 581. 5 ‘Una signora di raro spirito … questa signora è sempre indisposta, e ogni mattina ributta il pasto.’ Segarizzi, Relazioni, 3.1:149. 6 ‘L’Ill.ma S.ra Duchessa dessinò in pubblico et sta benissimo.’ ASF, MdP 1212a, f. 51r (Jacopo Guidi in Pisa to Antonio Serguidi in Florence, 1 April 1562). 7 Cellini ends his autobiography (Cellini, La vita, II:cxiii, p. 588) with a brief account of this trip: ‘In questo tempo il Duca se n’andò, con tutta la sua Corte e con tutti i sua figliuoli, dal Principe in fuori il quale era in Ispagna: andorno per le maremme di Siena; e per quel viaggio si condusse a Pisa.’ 8 See Cellini, La vita, II:cxiii, p. 588, who specifies only the death of Cardinal Giovanni, apple of his father’s eye, but implies those of his brother and mother: ‘prese il veleno di quella cattiva aria il Cardinale prima degli altri: così dipoi pochi giorni l’assalì una febbre pestilenziale e in breve l’ammazzò. Questo era l’occhio diritto del Duca: questo si era bello e buono, a ne fu grandissimo danno. Io lasciai passare parrechi giorni, tanto che io pensai che fussi rasciutte le lacrime: dappoi me n’andai a Pisa.’ Cellini’s manuscript breaks off here. 9 See Lapini, Diario, pp. 135–136. For these deaths, see also Ferrai, Cosimo de’ Medici, pp. 81–89; Saltini, Tragedie medicee, pp. 130–134; Baia, Leonora di Toledo, pp. 81–89; Booth, Cosimo I, pp. 187–188; Pieraccini, La stirpe, 2:66; and Scaduto, L’epoca, pp. 583–585.

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in a long letter to Francesco, who was in Spain. The duke recounts how the two sons died, how Eleonora’s fever returned and she made her will and her confession, asked for extreme unction, and then expired.10 There are various contemporary accounts of Eleonora’s funeral, each giving different details. The diarist Agostino Lapini records that her body arrived in Florence on 20 December in a closed casket covered in black velvet marked with a red cross, accompanied by a large group of courtiers on horseback and bearing some one hundred and fifty torches.11 A letter by Guido Serguidi of 27 December, describing the three deaths and funerals, gives more detail on the procession: ‘The body of the Lady Duchess arrived in Florence a week ago this evening a half-hour after sunset; at the city gate the procession was met by all the members of the Quarantotto and the first citizens [of the city] on horseback.’12 He continues: ‘from the Canto de’ Carnesecchi to San Lorenzo the casket with the body was carried by Giulio de’ Medici, Conte Clemente Pietra, Signor Mario Colonna and Signor Ciro [Alidosi]; these and other important courtiers all accompanied the body.’13 The diarist Francesco Settimanni describes the procession as beginning at the ‘Borgo San Friano,’ having presumably entered through the Porta San Frediano, then moving across the Ponte alla Carraia, to present-day Via della Vigna

10 ‘Nelle mie, si può dir, braccia rese l’anima a Dio, sendo stata dui giorni con intero iudito aspettando la morte, quasi sempre con il crucifisso in mano, et stando a seder sul letto et ragionando domesticamente della morte come se fusse stato un negotiare: et fino a l’ultima hora parlò et conobbe tutti come se fusse stata in sanità.’ ASF, MdP 327, ff. 107r–108v (transcribed in Medici, Lettere, p. 186). There is also Estrada’s letter of 16 January 1563 recounting Eleonora’s death; Estrada had heard her confession shortly before she died; see the transcription of this letter in Appendix B to Franceschini, ‘Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits’, p. 203–4. 11 ‘Arrivò qui in Firenze il suo cadavere in cassa coperta di velluto nero con una croce rossa a traverso, accompagnata da gran comitiva di cortigiani a cavallo, con forse 150 torcie gialle,’ Lapini, Diario, p. 136. Besides the other primary sources on Eleonora’s funeral quoted below, see Moreni, Pompe funebri, pp. 75–78. The dress, bodice and stockings in which Eleonora was buried were recovered from her casket, have been conserved and are now in the Galleria del Costume, Palazzo Pitti; see Westerman Bulgarella, ‘The Burial Attire.’ 12 ‘Il corpo dell’Ill.ma signora Duchessa venne in Firenze stasera fa otto giorni, et entrò a mezz’hora di notte: et alla porta furono invitati et andorono incontro tutti i Quarantotto et i primi cittadini a cavallo.’ Guido Serguidi, auditore of the Papal Nunciate in Tuscany, to his brother Antonio in Spain, 27 December 1562. Quoted in Saltini, Tragedie medicee, p. 134, citing ASF, MdP 1212. This letter, however, is not in the papers of Antonio Serguidi in ASF, MdP 1212 or 1212a. I thank Antonio Ricci for assistance in searching for this document. 13 ‘Et dal Canto de’ Carnesecchi sino a San Lorenzo, la cassa dov’era il corpo fu portata dal Signor Giulio de’ Medici, dal conte Clemente Pietra, dal Signor Mario Colonna, dal Signor Ciro [Alidosi] et altri primi cortegiani, che tutti vennero accompagnare il corpo.’ Giulio de’ Medici was the illegitimate son of Duke Alessandro de’ Medici, born c. 1532; in 1561 Giulio, who had been brought up in the ducal household, had been made a Knight of Santo Stefano.

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Nuova and Via Tornabuoni, then to the ‘Canto alla Paglia,’ and Borgo San Lorenzo, ending at the church.14 An anonymous late sixteenth-century chronicler adds that the procession made stops at the Duomo and other churches of the city before arriving at San Lorenzo, which was brightly lit.15 Lapini reports that Eleonora’s casket was then displayed in front of the high altar under ‘the large illuminated cappanna’; mass was sung and the casket was deposited in the Old Sacristy.16 The funerals at San Lorenzo of the duchess and her sons were very different. Because of his rank as cardinal, Giovanni was given a grand ceremony on 25 November. On the other hand, Garzia’s funeral on 14 December, two days after he died, was conducted ‘without any ceremony’ (‘senza pompa alcuna’), as Lapini notes, in San Lorenzo, where the illuminated cappanna was already set up with the decorations that had remained in place after Giovanni’s funeral.17 Eleonora’s funeral two weeks later was much more elaborate – in fact, it was the grandest ever held for a woman of the Medici family. As described by Lapini, on 28 December Vespers for the dead were sung and the next day ‘the requiem mass was celebrated with great pomp [and] the Latin oration was delivered by Piero Vettori. There was no effigy, but the cappanna grande was illuminated with many great candles and the mass was sung by Bishop de’ Nerli and four Canons of the Duomo.’18 The anonymous chronicler gives further information about the requiem mass, 14 ‘Andò al Borgo S. Friano, passò il Ponte alla Carraia, per la Vigna, agli Antinori, al Canto alla Paglia, per Borgo S. Lorenzo, dove fu preso il corpo e portato in Chiesa.’ ASF, Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni), 3, f. 239r. The entry of the funeral procession at Porta San Frediano is different from the customary entry point at Porta al Prato of triumphal wedding processions such as the entrate of Eleonora (in 1539) and Giovanna d’Austria (in 1565), or of papal processions such as that of Leo X (in 1515) at the Porta San Piero Gattolini (present-day Porta Romana). 15 BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313 (‘La Città di Firenze’ is inscribed on f. 1r), f. 189v. 16 ‘ … la portorno di subito in San Lorenzo ponendola sotto la cappanna grande accesa, cantando l’ufizio solito; di poi la posorano in segrestia vecchia in uno deposito, e lì si sta.’ Lapini, Diario, pp. 136–137. 17 ‘Arrivò qui a Firenze il suo cadavero … alli 14 detto, senza pompa alcuna; lo portorno in S. Lorenzo dov’era acconcia la cappanna grande … ,’ Lapini, Diario, p. 135. See also Moreni, Pompe funebri, pp. 67–69. 18 ‘A dì 28 detto si cantò il vespro de’ morti, con il vescovo de’ Nerli che fe’ l’ufizio, e Canonici del Duomo con li Magistrati, e cappanna grande accesa per il solo vespro. E a’ dì detto, in detto San Lorenzo, si fenno l’essequie per la sopradetta duchessa Eleonora; cantaronsi 3 notturni, di poi la Messa figurata con grande cerimonie: fe’ l’orazione latina Piero Vettori; non vi fu simulacro, ma piena la cappanna grande di lumi con copia grande di cera, e la cerimonia la fe’ il Vescovo de’ Nerli con 4 canonici del Duomo.’ Lapini, Diario, pp. 137–138. See also ASF, MdP Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni) 3, f. 240r. Benedetto Nerli was bishop of Volterra from 1545 to his death in 1565.

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noting that all those who had participated in the funeral procession the previous evening returned the next day (proclaimed a civic holiday) for ‘the pontifical mass accompanied by sad music with the organ closed; and when the mass reached the offertory, Piero Vettori went to the pulpit and delivered the funeral oration in praise of the late duchess in eloquent Latin; when the mass was over, the usual ceremonies were celebrated and everyone returned to his business.’19 The funeral decorations are also described by the anonymous chronicler: all the walls of the church were covered with heavy black hangings decorated with skeletons and the Toledo coat of arms.20 At the crossing there was a baldacchino with hangings of violet taffeta with the combined arms of the Medici and Toledo families.21 Under the baldacchino were rich altar-hangings and a casket (arca) covered with a pall of cloth-of-gold, edged with a band of black velvet and decorated with the Medici–Toledo arms. At the head and foot of the pall were cushions of cloth-of-gold with gold tassels and the same decoration.22 There is no visual record of Eleonora’s funeral, but the decorations must have resembled those in San Lorenzo for the funeral of Michelangelo in 1564, evoked in Agostino Ciampelli’s painting of 1617 (Figure 10.2) and in an etching which shows the choir decorated with giant skeletons supporting a coat-of-arms for the funeral of King Philip of Spain in 1598.23 Michelangelo’s funeral and that of Duke Cosimo ten years later both featured an enormous step-pyramid structure with candles, known as a cappella ardente. Traditional in Spanish royal funerals, notably that of Emperor Charles V, where it 19 ‘Di poi la mattina seguente che fu il lunedì ritornorno e consiglieri e tutti e’ detti Magistrati a S. Lorenzo. Et di poi la messa pontificale ed la musica mesta, et l’organo chiuso, e quando la messa fu’ all’offertorio salì in pulpito il Dottissimo Sig. Pier’ Vettori et con Latina eloquentia fece la funerale oratione in laude della Duchessa defunta; et finita la messa celebrate le solite cerimonie attorno all’Arca ogniuno se ne ritornò a sua negotii.’ BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313, f. 190r. 20 ‘A di 3 di Gennaio 1562 [1563] in Domenica … a San Lorenzo, la quale era tutta parata di rascie nere con le morte, et arme di casa Toledo … ,’ BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313, f. 190r. It is to be noted that this chronicler gives a different date for the funeral than all the other accounts. 21 ‘ … sotto al’ palco della quale [the cappanna accesa] era un’ baldacchino con drappellone di taffeta paonazzo con arme divise de Medici e Toledo in ciascuno drappellone.’ BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313, f. 190r. 22 ‘ … e sotto all’ detto baldacchino era un parato suntuosissimo sopra il quale era posta un’arca coperta con una richissima coltre di teletta d’oro bandata attorno di una larga banda di velluto nero et con l’arme divisa de’ Medici e Tolledo. In ciascuno de’ quattro canti della detta coltre e sopra la detta arca erano posati dua guanciali di teletta d’oro con loro napponi d’oro e la medesima arme nel mezzo di ciascuno di loro uno da capo, et uno da piede … ,’ BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313, f. 190r. 23 Vienna, Albertina; see Cox-Rearick, Drawings of Pontormo, figure 336.

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Figure 10.2

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Agostino Ciampelli, Funeral of Michelangelo. Florence, Casa Buonarroti (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

was twenty feet high and illuminated with three thousand candles,24 this type of structure, described in the sources as ‘la cappanna grande di lumi,’ was first used in Florence for the funerals of the Spanish noblewoman Eleonora and her two sons. 24

See Borsook, ‘Art and Politics,’ pp. 32, 41 and figures 2, 5 and 7.

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There are also reports of the funeral garb worn by the participants. The anonymous chronicler notes that ‘around the baldacchino were a hundred men in long black cloaks and black wool berets with veils covering their heads and necks.’25 Entries from an inventory of the Medici guardaroba (storerooms) of 29 December, after the funeral clothing would have been returned to storage, record the black livery worn by the pages and various black garments worn by others in the ducal entourage.26 Duke Cosimo himself wore a heavy black gown over his long, fur-lined mourning dress of grey damask embroidered in gold and silver.27 This long hooded gown, which hid the face from view, was another feature of the funeral that imitated a Spanish mode; it was similar to that worn in 1558 by King Philip II at the funeral of his father Emperor Charles V. Such a gown would also be worn by Francesco de’ Medici at Duke Cosimo’s own funeral.28 Piero Vettori’s Latin oration for Eleonora is a key document for the posthumous fortuna of the duchess.29 Early on, Vettori points out that Eleonora was an important figure in Cosimo’s rule, having married the duke almost at the beginning of his ‘most happy ducal reign’ (‘felicissimo ducal principato’).30 He addresses Eleonora’s ‘gifts of the spirit’ (‘beni del animo’) by praising her exemplary piety and her ‘gifts of the body’ (‘beni del corpo’) by praising her ‘regal and marvellous beauty’ (‘reale et maravigliosa bellezza’). Then he pointedly extols her ‘ease in giving birth’ (‘facilità del partorire’), continuing with a candid comment on her fecundity: ‘Men can distinguish themselves in a thousand ways in life, but women have only their fertility to pave the way to Heaven.’31 25 ‘ … sotto alla detta capanna stavon circa cento huomini vestiti con casacche lunghe d’accotonato nero e in capo berette di rascia con il velo di sopra alla beretta et di sotto alla gola,’ BNCF, Manoscritti II.I.313, f. 190r. 26 See Lazzi, ‘Gli abiti,’ p. 170, citing ASF, GM 51. 27 ‘MDLXII. Veste lunghe d’ermisino d’ogni sorte. E addi 21 di dicembre una di grossa grana nera per mettere sopra la vesta di dossi per il bruno riauta dal dicto al giornale.’ ASF, GM 51, f. 28r. Another entry (f. 29r) records the mourning dress: ‘Veste lunghe di dommasco d’ogni sorte. Una di dommasco bigio ricamata d’oro et argento foderata di dossi.’ I am grateful to Giovanna Lazzi for these references. There are other entries in the guardaroba inventories of December 1562–January 1563 related to Cosimo’s mourning requirements: on 23 December he ordered a black outfit (cappotto, colletto, cappa, etc.) to be made by the court tailor Agostino d’Agobio (ASF, GM 49, f. 20v) and on 22 January his bedroom was decorated in black (‘panno nero … in fare parare la camera di S.E. per bruno’); ASF, GM 52, f. 77r. 28 See Borsook, ‘Art and Politics,’ p. 38. 29 See Vettori, Laudatio Eleonorae and Orazione. Latin orations for Eleonora were also recited at the funeral by Giovanni Guadagni, Giovanni Battista Adriani and Pietro Perondini (Moreni, Pompe funebri, p. 75, n. 1 and p. 77, n. 1). 30 Vettori, Orazione, f. 3r. 31 ‘Et di tutti quei beni d’animo che possono havere i Mortali, perche potendo gl’uomini

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Duke Cosimo personally wrote to Vettori to thank him for the ‘learned and elegant’ funeral oration.32 Subsequently, such court artists and literati as Giorgio Vasari, Aldo Mannucci, Scipione Ammirato, Giambattista Cini and Cristoforo Bronzini wrote conventional eulogies of Eleonora elaborating the same themes.33 The duchess was also celebrated by poets Benedetto Varchi, Laura Battiferra, Gherardo Spini and others.34 These included her court artist and favourite portraitist, Bronzino (Figures 10.1 and 2.2). In thirteen sonnets on the deaths of Eleonora and her sons, he extols her piety, fertility and chastity, characterizing her as a ‘fertile palm,’ having lost her two sons to death, and a ‘chaste Juno,’ alluding to the identification with the goddess of matrimony that had been a constant in her iconography since the 1540s.35 Thus, first in Vettori’s oration, then in other eulogies, the major themes of Eleonora’s iconography during her lifetime – her beauty, piety, marital fidelity and fecundity – were neatly incorporated into her legacy.

Eleonora’s Bequests to SS. Concezione and San Lorenzo The day before her death Eleonora made her will. She left most of her considerable estate to Duke Cosimo,36 but she also made an important bequest to the Jesuits, whom she had actively supported in Florence and whose major reprealzarsi et aggrandirsi per mill’altre vie, le Donne quasi per quest’una sola si aprono la strada di salir al Cielo.’ Vettori, Orazione, ff. 3v–4r. 32 ‘L’oratione funebre fatta da voi si dotta et elegante ci ha contentato conforme alla molta virtù vostra et ve ne ringratiamo.’ ASF, MdP 219, f. 2r (Cosimo to Vettori, 11 January 1563). 33 See Moreni, Pompe funebri, pp. 77–78; Baia, Leonora di Toledo, pp. 90–93. 34 See Varchi, ‘In obitu Eleonorae Toleto, Cosimo Florentiae, et Senarum conjugis’; Spini, ‘In Morte della S. Duchessa di Fiorenza,’ ‘De M. Gherardo Spini a Ludovico Domenichi’ (in Spanish), and ‘All’Eccellentissimo Messer Bartolomeo Ammanati in materia del Palazzo de’ Pitti, per la morte della Signora Duchessa;’ and Battiferra, ‘In Morte della Duchessa di Fiorenza,’ all in Poesie toscane, pp. 54, 67, 97. I am grateful to Victoria Kirkham for calling these and other poems dedicated to Eleonora to my attention; see her study-in-progress ‘Spanish Nymph, Tuscan Sun: Eleonora di Toledo and the literati.’ 35 Bronzino, Sonetti, p. 38: ‘Ed ancor poiche’, oimè, l’alma Consorte / Spenta cadersi, quasi fertil palma / Da due colpi mortali, e scorse, e vide’; and p. 41: ‘Dianzi gli Angeli in terra esser ne parve/ Invece di Giovanni e di Garzia,/ E la casta Giunon di Leonora.’ For Eleonora and Juno, see pp. 250–53 below. See Parker, Bronzino, pp. 77–78 and her article, ‘The Poetry of Patronage: Bronzino and the Medici,’ forthcoming in Renaissance Studies. 36 ‘In prima lascia suo herede universale di tutti li suoi beni mobili, immobili, ragioni, azzioni presenti e futuri, ecc. l’Ecc.mo Sir.re Duca suo Consorte.’ ASF, MdP 5922a, ins. 28, ff. 128r–131r. See below for other important bequests in this document, which also lists many small ones of a personal nature. For the will, see also ASF Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni), 3, ff. 237r–238r.

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sentatives there, Diego Laínez and Diego de Guzmán, were her spiritual guides and confessors.37 The bequest was two hundred scudi as a perpetual annuity for the benefit of San Giovannino, the Jesuit church in Florence.38 Eleonora’s final act of piety and art patronage was a much larger bequest: she gave one thousand scudi a year in perpetuity towards the building and support of a convent.39 It was for the cavalieresse, Florentine noblewomen who became nuns following the Benedictine rule, with the Order of the Cavalieri di Santo Stefano (established by Cosimo in Pisa in 1561) as their governing body. In 1563 the duke duly founded the convent and its church of SS. Concezione (subsequently known as the ‘monastero nuovo’).40 It was designed by Vincenzo Borghini, his chief adviser for the iconography of art commissions.41 Apparently, however, work was not begun until a few years later: in 1568 the duke’s administrator Tommaso de’ Medici reported to Borghini that building materials were being transported ‘to the construction site of the new monastery.’42 An indication of the high priority which the duke gave this project is the fact that some of these building materials were white marble columns from the choir of the Duomo (then undergoing restoration), which Cosimo had ordered to be transferred to the ‘new monastery in Via della Scala,’ and which Lapini saw installed there.43 The cornerstone of 37 For Eleonora and the Jesuits, see Scaduto, L’epoca, pp. 577–585 and Franceschini, ‘Eleonora di Toledo and the Jesuits.’ Franceschini points out that after Eleonora’s death Laínez widely reported her generosity and ordered masses and prayers to be said for her as if she had been a founder of the Order (p. 197, n. 74). 38 ‘Alla Casa della Compagnia di Jesù di Fiorenza scudo dugento d’entrata l’anno.’ ASF, MdP 5922a, ins. 28, f. 129v. 39 ‘Al Monasterio da fondarsi scudi mille l’anno sopra il Monte.’ ASF, MdP 5922a, ins. 28, f. 129v. Eleonora does not specify the details of this bequest, but its identity is clear from documents and subsequent events. Settimanni also mentions this bequest in relation to Eleonora’s gift to the monastery of some of her clothing (see n. 66 below). 40 See Richa, Notizie istoriche, 3:110–113; Follini and Rastrelli, Firenze antica, 7:82–94; and Paatz, Die Kirchen, 1:476–481. For the founding of the monastery and further bibliography, see Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ p. 436 and n. 88. 41 See Margaret Daly Davis in Giorgio Vasari, no. 72, for a letter from Bastiano Ambrogi di Venezia to Francesco I de’ Medici in Florence, 19 Oct. 1580 (ASF, MdP 5107, f. 305r–v), which details Borghini’s lesser known activities as an architect. Ambrogi writes ‘nel dare il suo disegno del Monasterio che si fabbrica per testamento fatto della gran Duchessa [sic].’ 42 ‘Come dal Duca mio S.re nostro mi è stato comandato con ordine che io consegni tutto a Vostra Signoria per cominciare à condurre materia alla nuova fabrica del monasterio.’ ASF, MdP 221, f. 44r (copy of a letter to Borghini dated 6 June 1568). 43 Lapini, Diario, p. 153 (1566). In a remodelling of the choir, its white marble columns were replaced by columns of ‘marmo misto, e quelle di marmo bianco si mandorono al nuovo monasterio della Via della Scala, e quivi si veggono.’ See also p. 164 (14 June 1569): ‘si levorno certe colonne di marmo bianco incannellate … e si portorno al nuovo monasterio nella Via della Scala … per commissione del duca Cosimo.’

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the convent was laid in 1568 with a dedication to the duke and the late duchess.44 It was only completed under Grand Duke Ferdinando, and the Benedictine nuns (‘le monache delle Murate’) had moved into the convent in July 1592.45 We know about several works of art that were in the convent of SS. Concezione. Above the altar was a lunette of the Immaculate Conception by Antonio Franchi, described in the late eighteenth century as featuring Saints Michael, Stephen and Benedict.46 The presence of St. Stephen alludes to the Order of S. Stefano and that of St. Benedict to the rule followed by the nuns.47 In 1592, in gratitude to their patroness, the nuns erected a marble statue of Eleonora in a niche of pietra serena behind the high altar of their church; it was inscribed ‘ELEONORA DI TOLEDO MEDICI, FOUNDER.’48 The statue is lost, but may be reflected in a larger than life-size marble bust of Eleonora that appears to date from about 1600 (location unknown; Figure 10.3).49 It has all the characteristics of a copy and is clearly commemorative in mode, depicting a mature, but unidealized, Eleonora as she appears in her portraits of the early 1550s.50 In the waning years of the Cinquecento this monumental sculpture must have been a vivid reminder of the legendary virtue and piety of the duchess. Another work of art for the church of SS. Concezione survives, although in a very poor state of preservation. Cosimo commissioned from Bronzino the Immaculate Conception, an altarpiece executed mainly by his workshop and 44 See Lapini, Diario, p. 160; and Follini and Rastrelli, Firenze antica, 7:90: ‘Ill.mus Cosmus Florentinae et Senarum Dux II. / Fecit ex testamento Eleonorae Toledae Uxoris / et sui pietate AN. D. MDLXIII / XXVII Jul. Hora 11. 1/2.’ 45 ASF, MdP 280, f. 162r (letter to Alessandro di Ottaviano de’ Medici dated 23 July 1592). The church was consecrated only in 1607 and dedicated to the Immaculate Conception by Alessandro Marzi Medici, bishop of Fiesole (Follini and Rastrelli, Firenze Antica, 7:92). 46 Follini and Rastrelli, Firenze antica, 7:93. 47 Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ p. 443, n. 106. 48 ‘ELEONORA TOLETANA MEDICES FVNDATRIX.’ See Follini and Rastrelli, Firenze antica, 7:93–94. The statue was recorded by Richa, Notizie istoriche, 3:113, but it disappeared after the suppression of the convent in 1808 (ASF, Corporazioni religiose soppresse sotto il governo francese, 134). There is a set of drawings of the church made by Giuseppe Martelli in 1823 (Florence, Uffizi 6137A–6145A), of which 6140A shows an apse behind the altar but no indication of a niche. 49 See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,22, dating it c. 1600 as in Aubervilliers in 1970, possibly in a private collection. My search for this work in France has not been successful. I thank François Borne for his assistance and opinion that the bust must have been at a dealer’s warehouse, since Aubervilliers is not a residential location where art collections are likely to be found. 50 See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, nos. 35,20; 35,26; 35,30, and so on. For painted commemorative portraits of Eleonora dating 1564 and 1572, see Figures 10.6 and 10.8.

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Anonymous (late sixteenth century). Eleonora di Toledo (location unknown). Fototeca, Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz (by permission)

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left unfinished at the artist’s death in 1572 (today in S. Maria Regina della Pace; Figure 10.4).51 This enormous painting followed the model of Bronzino’s great altarpieces of the early 1550s – the Resurrection in the Guadagni Chapel in SS. Annunziata and the Christ in Limbo in S. Croce – but includes motifs specific to his latest works.52 The iconography of the Immaculate Conception depends in part on that of Vasari’s altarpiece of 1541 for the chapel of Bindo Altoviti in SS. Apostoli (versions in Lucca, Pinacoteca Nazionale; Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi; and elsewhere). Bronzino, however, departed from his model to conflate the subject with the Coronation of the Virgin and to portray a standing Virgin. His painting also has a more doctrinal emphasis, alluding to the debate that surrounded the Immaculate Conception. Five of the fourteen prophets, penitent saints and friars who surround the Virgin hold books, those of the bearded saint kneeling in the left foreground (possibly St Jerome) and his young counterpart to the right are open. If the altarpiece had been finished, there would have been inscriptions on the pages of these books as well as on the scrolls held by the angels, which in Vasari’s Immaculate Conception emphasize the theme of Mary as a new Eve.53 There are also Franciscan references: to either side of the Virgin’s feet are friars; the one on the left, reading a book, may be the Franciscan Duns Scotus, the thirteenth-century theologian who strongly upheld the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception.54 51 Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi inv. Depositi no. 1; panel, 4.97 × 2.88 m. The work is mentioned by Borghini, Il Riposo, p. 538, following his notice of Bronzino’s last completed painting, Christ Raising the Daughter of Jairus (Florence, S. Maria Novella): ‘e alla sua morte lasciò un’altra tavola non del tutto finita, entrovi la Concezione della Madonna, la quale por si dovea nel monasterio, che si fabbrica nella via della Scala.’ After the convent’s suppression in 1808, the altarpiece was transferred to the Uffizi storerooms. Believed to be lost, it was identified by Berti, ‘Un ritrovamento,’ pp. 191–193. See also Emiliani, Il Bronzino, p. 91; Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 125; and Lecchini Giovannoni, Alessandro Allori, p. 49, n. 46 (by Bronzino’s workshop). 52 For the altarpieces, see Baccheschi, L’opera completa, nos 95–96. The kneeling saints in the foreground of the Immaculate Conception, especially the one to the right, recall Saints Andrew and Bartolommeo (Rome, Accademia di San Luca), fragments from Bronzino’s lost Crucifixion, painted for Pisa Cathedral in 1556 (see Cecchi, Bronzino, p. 71). The juxtaposed profile and fullface heads to the right margin of the Immaculate Conception also appear in the Lamentation of 1565 (Florence, Galleria dell’Accademia; see Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 120). 53 See Vasari, Le vite, 7:668, who quotes the inscription that appears in the SS. Apostoli, Lucca and other versions: ‘Quos Evae culpa damnavit, Mariae gratia solvit.’ Other versions bear the inscription ‘Tota pulcra es, amica mea; et macula non est in te’ (Song of Solomon 4:7). For the versions of Vasari’s Immaculate Conception, see Julian Kliemann in Giorgio Vasari, pp. 104–105, no. 3a–3h. 54 For Duns Scotus and the Immaculate Conception, see Carmichael, Francia’s Masterpiece, pp. 22–27.

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Figure 10.4

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Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Immaculate Conception. Florence, S. Maria Regina della Pace (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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On the right above is a pope, also holding an open book (possibly the Franciscan Sixtus IV, whose bull of 1477 had sanctioned the celebration of the feast of the Immaculate Conception).55 A prominent figure on the right is St John the Baptist, who points towards the Virgin, echoing his traditional gesture towards the Christ Child in altarpieces of the Madonna and Saints; his counterpart to the left, who holds a closed book, may be St John the Evangelist, whose description of the Apocalyptic Woman (Revelation 12:1) was interpreted as alluding to the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception.56 Eleonora, of course, had expressed tout court her devotion to the Immaculate Conception by directing the foundation of a convent to which Cosimo dedicated it, presumably following her wishes. This dedication is not surprising, given that the doctrine was particularly popular in Spain.57 Moreover, as we have seen, it had been vigorously supported by the Franciscans and, in Eleonora’s time, also by the Jesuits.58 Eleonora had long associated herself with the Franciscans – the prime Immaculatists – as is evident in her vow at the Franciscan shrine of La Verna in 1540 to name her first child Francesco and in her bequest of one hundred scudi per year in perpetuity to that monastery.59 After their arrival in Florence in 1547, the Jesuits were her spiritual guides and she vigorously patronized them – for example, exerting pressure on Duke Cosimo to cede the church of San Giovannino to the Society in 1554.60 55 For Sixtus in representations of the Immaculate Conception, see Carmichael, Francia’s Masterpiece, pp. 1, 43–45. 56 Alternatively, the Baptist’s counterpart might be the prophet Jeremiah (although this figure does not resemble the traditional bearded prophet type), who was by tradition sanctified in his mother’s womb. Subsidiary figures in the background, of whom only the heads are shown, are (to the left), a bishop, a man between St John the Evangelist and David and (to the right) two bearded men in profile looking towards the Virgin. Between St John the Baptist and the bearded man to the right is a head seen full-face, which might have been a portrait of the artist as observer. I thank Bruce Edelstein for discussing the iconography of the painting with me and refer the reader to his dissertation (Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ pp. 434–442) for further possible identifications of the figures around the Virgin. 57 Space does not permit the development of this subject; for the propagation of the cult of the Immaculate Conception in Spain, see Stratton, Immaculate Conception, Chapter 2. Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ p. 436, points out that Eleonora’s foundation of SS. Concezione may have been inspired by Beatrice de Silva’s foundation in 1484 of an Order of the Immaculate Conception in Toledo. 58 Warner, Alone of All, p. 247. 59 For the vow, see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 318–319. For the bequest, see ASF Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni), 3, f. 237r: ‘ogn’ anno si pagahero cento scudi a’ Frati della Vernia.’ 60 See Richa, Notizie istoriche, 2:320. For the church, later known as San Giovannino degli Scolopi, see 2:319–335.

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Bronzino included in the Immaculate Conception at least one allusion, perhaps two, to the ducal couple. (Our perception of these allusions is compromised, however, by the workshop execution and later repainting of the work.) King David, standing behind the Virgin and to her right, is a portrait of Duke Cosimo (Figure 10.5), who had often been depicted by his court artists in the guise of Old Testament prophets such as Moses, Joseph and Joshua.61 The likeness may be compared with Bronzino’s lost state portrait of 1556–7 (see the autograph replica in Turin, Galleria Sabauda).62 If Cosimo is present as David, then the face of the Virgin, now crudely repainted, may once have borne the idealized features of Eleonora herself. Such an implicit deification of the duchess was not without precedent, even in her lifetime. In descriptions of the ducal couple’s entry into Rome in 1560, for example, chroniclers introduced a note of apotheosis, styling Eleonora ‘a more than earthly queen’ (‘una più che terrena regina’) possessed of a ‘superhuman majesty’ (‘maestà sopr’humana’).63 If the idea of an allusion to Eleonora in the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception may be entertained, the prominent figures of God the Father and Christ, who crowns the Virgin (a motif not included by Vasari), might have been intended to suggest the ‘crowning’ of the late Duchess, patron of SS. Concezione. A very different kind of bequest in Eleonora’s will concerned the disposal of part of her vast wardrobe. In this she followed a tradition in which noblewomen often donated their brocade, velvet and damask garments to the Church to be made into altar furnishings and vestments. The practice was common in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in Spain, country of Eleonora’s cultural heritage.64 In Florence in the early 1540s there was as yet no tradition of lavish court dress such as Eleonora was then introducing, but Duke Cosimo’s mother, Maria Salviati, had bequeathed clothing to San Lorenzo in 61

Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, Chapters 11–12. This portrait was a pendant to one of Eleonora (see n. 1). For the replica of 1566, see ASF, GM 65, f. 160dex. See also Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 27,36; and Simon, ‘Bronzino’s Portraits,’ p. 152 and cat. B25 (both as workshop). 63 See the report by Antonfrancesco Cirni Corso, Reale Entrata, p. 4, who describes Cosimo and Eleonora as ‘quella realissima coppia due Semidei,’ and continues: ‘Era [Duke Cosimo] vestita di velluto di bertino ricamato d’oro, co’l toson maggiore, e col collar d’oro; l’altra [Eleonora] appareva più che terrena regina d’honestissima beltà, e di bellissima honestà tutta sparsa di gratia realità bontà, maestà sopr’humana.’ See Edelstein, ‘La fecundissima Signora Duchessa,’ p. 72, n. 4 for another such reference in Cirni Corso’s report. 64 For prominent sixteenth-century examples, see May, ‘Spanish Brocade,’ pp. 8, 12, citing Isabella of Portugal and Isabella, wife of Emperor Charles V, who left gold brocade gowns to the monastery of Guadalupe, Empress Isabella giving the ensemble she had worn for her entrance into Seville. 62

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Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Immaculate Conception. Florence, S. Maria Regina della Pace; detail, Duke Cosimo de’ Medici as David (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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1544.65 There is also considerable evidence for this practice in surviving Florentine altar furnishings and vestments of the Cinquecento and in paintings of the period.66 According to Settimanni, Eleonora bequeathed clothing worth 12 000 scudi to the church of San Lorenzo and to the monastery of SS. Concezione.67 These were mainly garments similar to the ceremonial attire she wears in Bronzino’s state portraits of her (Figures 10.1 and 2.2), but more ordinary clothing was also included. While we know nothing further of Eleonora’s bequest to SS. Concezione, there is ample documentation of her donation to San Lorenzo.68 After her death, all her clothing was inventoried and then, in July 1564, Duke Cosimo gave sixty-nine items to San Lorenzo. The church canons duly inventoried and acknowledged the gift and determined to offer annually three perpetual offices – one on 24 July (the date of the gift), one on 17 December (the date of Eleonora’s death), and one in November (in memory of her deceased children).69 They also proceeded to fashion vestments and altar furnishings from the vestiti in good condition. Tommaso de’ Medici wrote to Cosimo in October 1564 that two sets had been made from Eleonora’s dresses, one for All Saints Day and one for All Souls Day.70 The following spring, the canons informed the duke: ‘the most precious and rich of Eleonora’s

65 See an inventory of 1570 of vestments stored in the sacristy: ‘Guanciali otto di broccato arricciato e di velluto chermisi, rinvolti in una tovagliaccia rotto, donagli alla nostra sagrestia la Ill.ma S.ra Maria Salviati de’ Medici, madre del nostro Gran Duca Cosimo.’ Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, ASL 2145, f. 3r. 66 An example of an actual vestment is a chasuble (pianeta) from S. Illario a Columbaia, Florence, made of a luxurious red damask in the traditional pattern of caper leaves and pine cones, a fabric often used for the gowns of aristocratic Florentine matrons and of the duchess herself (see Boccherini and Marabelli, Sopra ogni sorte, no. 6). An example of a painting is Allori’s Presentation in the Temple (Lucca, San Martino; see Lecchini Giovannoni, Alessandro Allori, cat. 155), in which priests are dressed in rich brocade vestments that may have been fashioned from the dresses of noblewomen. 67 ‘La sua veste di valuta di scudi 12 mila per la metà alla chiesa di San Lorenzo, e per l’altra metà ad un monasterio che Lei faceva fabbricare, e di più scudi 2,000 di entrata.’ ASF, Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni), 3, f. 238r. This bequest is not listed in the copy of Eleonora’s will cited in n. 36 above (ASF, MdP 5922a, ff. 128r–131r). 68 The following is drawn from an extended discussion of this material in a book-in-progress on Eleonora’s attire cited in n. 1. 69 Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, ASL 2325, f. 16r–v (cited by Gaston, ‘Liturgy and Patronage,’ p. 128). 70 ‘Io ho visto hoggi finito dua mute di bellissimi paramenti fatti fare e’ preti de S.o Lorenzo di quelli vestiti della duc.a felice memoria. Una muta per il giorno d’ogni Santi e una muta per il giorno de’ morti.’ Letter of 27 October 1564 (New York, Pierpont Morgan Library MA 478, f. 49r). The word paramenti can refer to both the altar furnishings and the priest’s vestments, which would be fashioned of matching fabrics.

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clothes have been transformed into beautiful vestments and altar furnishings in the service of and to ornament the church.’71 A postscript signed by Tommaso declares: ‘His Excellency is satisfied’ (‘Sua Ecc.za Ill.ma è contenta’).

Eleonora’s Fortuna, 1563–1984 About a year before Cosimo gave Eleonora’s dresses to San Lorenzo, Bronzino and his workshop produced a posthumous tribute to the recently deceased duchess. The portrait today in the Wallace Collection, London (Figure 10.6),72 is a pastiche of two of Bronzino’s state portraits of her. Reducing the figure of the duchess to half-length, Bronzino reused the cartoon of Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Giovanni of 1545 (Figure 2.2); the position of her crossed hands, with a handkerchief in the lower one, was adopted, however, from his portrait of 1556–7 (Figure 10.1). In the Wallace portrait Eleonora wears a ring on her left ring finger, a dark reddish-purple gemstone set in gold which does not appear in either of the portraits on which this work is based. As if in an attempt to bring the dead duchess back to life, the colour of her lips and cheeks is also heightened in a manner that resembles the rouged facial coloration of Bia in Bronzino’s posthumous 1544 portrait of Cosimo’s young daughter.73 Even though it was a replica, this portrait was evidently considered very important. Eleonora is set against the same blue background, painted in the costly ultramarine blue made from lapis lazuli, that Bronzino had used for the backgrounds of his first portrait of her of c. 1539–40 (Figure 2.7)74 and of the state portrait of 1545 (Figure 2.2). Furthermore, with the exception of the hands and the vase, the painting is of high quality.75 It seems likely that the duke himself commissioned it from Bronzino and that (contrary to 71 ‘Di già i più pretiosi e ricchi [of Eleonora’s clothes] si son convertiti in paramenti bellissimi in servito et ornamento della chiesa.’ Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, ASL 35, f. 219r (23 May 1565). 72 Inv. P555; poplar panel; 77 × 58 cm. From the Lochis collection, Bergamo (sold 1868) and that of the 4th Marquess of Hertford (1871). 73 Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi; see Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 51. 74 Prague, Národní Galerie, inv. DO-880; panel; 59 × 46 cm. See Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 55d. The dating is mine (Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 36 and p. 355, n. 50); the portrait has been variously dated to 1543 or even after 1545 (as derivative from the Uffizi double portrait). 75 I am grateful to Joanne Hedley, Curator of Pictures pre-1800, The Wallace Collection, and to Carol Plazzotta, Myojin Curator of 16th-century Italian Painting, London, National Gallery, for discussing the picture in situ with me.

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Agnolo Bronzino (and workshop), Eleonora di Toledo. London, Wallace Collection (by kind permission of the Trustees of the Wallace Collection, London)

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its traditional attribution to the workshop) the master participated in its execution.76 The portrait can probably be identified with one of Eleonora listed in an entry in an inventory of the Medici guardaroba of 1562, the year of her death on 17 December: ‘a portrait without a frame of the late Lady Duchess.’77 The month and day of this entry are not indicated, but if it refers to the Wallace portrait, it should be noted that the portrait could have been inventoried as ‘1562’ and still have been executed any time before 25 March 1563, when the year 1563 began according to the Florentine calendar. The portrait’s iconography also suggests a personal commission from Cosimo. The empty vase on the ledge to the left and the Latin inscription across the top of the painting comment on Bronzino’s earlier images of the duchess and expand on their meaning.78 The empty vase was a traditional symbol of death, but in the Renaissance it was also an emblem of ideal beauty and, most commonly, of virtue.79 The inscription – FALLAX. GRATIA. ET. VANA. EST. PVLCHRITVDO – identifies Eleonora with the Virtuous Woman of Proverbs 31:10–31, a text which was used in the lesson for a mass for a holy woman.80 It evokes wifely virtues, enumerating them at length and concluding (31:30–31) with a succinct characterization of the Woman of Faith that was often quoted in the Renaissance in praise of queens and consorts.81 The words are the first phrase of verse 30: ‘Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain’; the observer must supply the crucial conclusion of the sentence: ‘but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.’ Hence, the inscription complements the imagery of the vase, making the portrait into a memorial celebration of the beautiful and virtuous Eleonora, and also paying tribute to the duchess as an ideal wife and Woman of Faith.

76 Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,11, considered it to be by Bronzino’s own hand, but most modern studies list it as a replica. See Levey, Bronzino, p. 108; Baccheschi, L’opera completa, no. 55c; Ingamells, Wallace Collection, pp. 217–219; and Plazzotta, ‘“Il Pennel Dotto,”’ pp. 20–21, who points out that even the pattern of the dress lacks the relief of the fabric in the Uffizi original. Matteoli, ‘La ritrattistica,’ p. 312, n. 28, on the other hand, believes it to have been Bronzino’s first portrait of Eleonora and dates it to the early 1540s. 77 ‘Un quadro senz’ ornamento, rittrattovi la Ill.ma Signora Duchessa felice memoria.’ ASF, GM 65, f. 164r. 78 I owe much to Plazzotta, ‘Il Pennel Dotto’, pp. 20–23, for the interpretation that follows. 79 For the vase and virtue (omnium virtutim vas), see Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, 1:67; and for the vase and female beauty, see Cropper, ‘On Beautiful Women,’ p. 381. 80 See Levey, Bronzino, p. 108. For the mass for a holy woman, neither a virgin nor a martyr, see the Roman Missal, pp. 39–40. 81 See King, ‘The Godly Woman,’ pp. 41–42, 56, 58, for the use of this text in praise of Queen Elizabeth I.

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After Eleonora’s death, contemporaries noticed a change in Duke Cosimo that the Venetian ambassador attributed to the absence of her tempering presence: ‘The duke used to grant many favours while the duchess was alive, but now he is very rigid and never offers even one.’82 Not long thereafter – on his birthday in 1564 – Cosimo abdicated in favour of Francesco and retired from active court life.83 Eleonora’s fortuna was now in the hands of her son and the advisers and artists who managed the Medicean propaganda machine, notably Borghini and Vasari. In these years a theme of the ideal marriage of Francesco’s parents, Cosimo and Eleonora, was brought to the foreground, and focus on the duchess herself began to be blurred. In December 1565 Francesco married Giovanna d’Austria, and their lavish wedding apparato glorified the Medici, transforming the city into a virtual apotheosis of the rule of the recently abdicated Duke Cosimo. After her entrata Giovanna followed a route marked by a series of magnificently decorated arches ending at the strategically important Arco della Prudenza Civile. This arch opened into the Piazza della Signoria and thence to the ducal palace and the Salone dei Cinquecento – the climactic goal of the procession. The largest and most elaborately decorated of the apparati (with paintings and statues by Federico Zuccari, Giambologna and others), this arch was dedicated to Duke Cosimo’s ‘Virtue and Excellent Government,’ as Borghini points out to the duke in his general presentation of the programme of the apparato in April 1565.84 The endless discussions about the intricate iconography of this arch that followed provide the first indications of a change in attitude towards Eleonora at the court.85 In a revealing exchange of letters of June 1565, Borghini argued at length with Vasari, the artistic director of the event, about whether to place a portrait of Eleonora on the west façade of the arch under a statue of 82 ‘Il duca usava far molte grazie al tempo della duchessa: ora è rigidissimo e non ne concede mai una.’ Relazioni (Vincenzo Fedeli) ser. I, II, p. 77. 83 The abdication took place on 1 May 1564 (see Tosi, ‘Abdicazione,’ pp. 23–25), but Lapini, Diario, p. 141, records the official transfer of power to Francesco as having been made on 11 June, Cosimo’s forty-fifth birthday. 84 ‘Virtù ed Eccellente Governo’ (Borghini in Bottari and Ticozzi, Raccolta, p. 180). For this arch (also called the Arco della Dogana), see the descriptions of the apparato by Domenico Mellini, Descrizione, pp. 109–110, and Giambattista Cini, ‘Descrizione,’ pp. 561–564. On Borghini, see Lorenzoni in Borghini, Carteggio, p. 28; his correspondence with Vasari in Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 2:195–203; and Ginori-Conti, L’apparato, pp. 50–53. See also Petrioli Tofani, Feste e apparati, pp. 15–24, 197–198; and, on the apparato in general, Starn and Partridge, Arts of Power, pp. 151–212. 85 This change is discussed by Edelstein in his ‘Early Patronage,’ pp. 378–380, and in his review of Cox-Rearick, p. 173, n. 12.

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Temperance or under one of Patience.86 He makes a strong case for her importance and the suitability of associating her with Temperance, saying that he wanted to place Cosimo under Patience because ‘the continence and temperance of our Lord Duke can be demonstrated by recalling his consort, loved by him and mother of so many children, and a rare woman for her powers of organization and her goodness.’87 Vasari eventually went to the duke about the matter, only to be told that His Excellency would be happy with anything Vasari and Borghini devised for the decorations.88 Borghini, still concerned that an image of the duchess might be eliminated entirely, wrote a testy letter to Vasari: ‘As for this picture of the duchess, … the important thing is to satisfy His Excellency and it is our duty; … Somewhere in the decorations it is necessary to memorialize the duchess; it would be an error not to.’89 In the end no portrait of Eleonora was displayed, nor was she associated personally with either Patience or Temperance; she appeared only in a scene of her marriage to Cosimo, to the right of the central painting on the frieze, Duke Cosimo Concluding the Marriage Contract between Francesco and Giovanna. This painting of the marriage of Cosimo and Eleonora is described in the accounts of the apparato by Domenico Mellini and Giambattista Cini, who relate that it showed Cosimo as a veritable mirror of marital faith, hand in hand with Eleonora; she was characterized only as a woman of admirable 86 ‘In quanto all’ordine mi piace tutto salvo la storia di lui [Duke Cosimo] colla Duchessa, perchè, se volete mostrare la pacentia sua, non la mostrerei con esso lei che par piuttosto un offenderlo e tassarlo, perchè so qualcosa et venite a riffrescar le piaghe.’ Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 2, no. DIV (Vasari to Borghini, 18 June). Borghini replied on 19 June (no. DV): ‘Quanto a quello che mi dite della Duchessa, ella è sotto la Temperantia e non sotto la Patientia et è propriissima.’ For Borghini’s sketches of this arch (BNCF, Magl. II.X.100, ff. 54r and 104r) see Ginori Conti, L’Apparato, p. 50 and figure 16. Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,37, suggests that the portrait Borghini planned for this arch might have been the Eleonora in the Wallace Collection (Figure 10.6), but its small scale and medium makes this unlikely. 87 ‘La continentia et temperantia del nostro Signor Duca si fussi mostra con far un po di memoria della Sua consorte, amata di Lui e madre di tanti figliuoli et per governo et per bonta donna rara. Considerate un po’ meglio, con tutto questo, la sadissfatione di S. E. ha ire inanzi a ogni cosa.’ Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 2, no. DV (Borghini to Vasari, 19 June). 88 Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 2, no. DVI (Vasari to Borghini, 19 June): ‘Alla cosa della Duchessa scosse un poco’ then, Vasari adds, Cosimo added laughing, ‘Voi a poco a poco mi avete condotto in piazza fare ciò che vi piace, che mi contento d’ogni cosa.’ 89 ‘Quanto a questo quadro della Duchessa io vi ho poi scritto assai et discorsovi sopra. L’importanza è sadisfare a S.E. et al debito nostro … È necessario in qualche luogo far memoria dalla Duchessa, altrimenti a mio giuditio sarebbe errore.’ Vasari, Literarische Nachlass, 2, no. DVII (Borghini to Vasari, 20 June 1565). Borghini ends by reminding Vasari that Eleonora’s late sons Giovanni and Garzia were being memorialized in the decorations, so why not their mother?

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virtue (chastity, honesty and prudence).90 Such was now Eleonora’s fixed role in the propaganda of Medicean rule. At the time of Francesco’s marriage, changes were made in the decorations of Eleonora’s former apartment in the Palazzo Vecchio, which was being prepared for Giovanna. The most striking decoration in this apartment was that of her private chapel, which Bronzino had frescoed in 1540–5 with Stories of Moses on the walls and Four Saints on the vault, with a magnificent altarpiece of the Lamentation. An important subtext of its sacred programme was the celebration of the marriage of Cosimo and Eleonora in 1539 and the birth in 1541 of the Medici heir, Francesco.91 The centre of Bronzino’s compositional drawing for the vault is marked with the combined Medici– Toledo coat-of-arms (Figure 10.7).92 This stemma, combining the red Medici palle with the blue and silver squares of the Toledo arms (Cosimo’s ducal coronet and the imperial eagle of Charles V being added when it was painted), not only declares Eleonora as the chapel’s owner, but provides the key to its theme of the union of the Medici and Toledo families under benevolent imperial protection. In early 1565, however, with Eleonora no longer on the scene and the change in ownership of the chapel scheduled to take place in December with Francesco’s marriage to Giovanna, Bronzino (or his pupil, Alessandro Allori) painted an image of the three-headed Trinity over the stemma, thus removing any overt sign of the chapel’s original owner.93 After Bronzino’s memorial portrait (Figure 10.6), no further independent portraits of Eleonora were produced during the last years of Cosimo’s life or during their son Francesco’s rule. Following the model of the 1565 wedding apparato, she was depicted only as Cosimo’s consort in works celebrating their long and fruitful union. Two of these ‘couple portraits’ of the early 1570s, vastly different in medium and scale, express this theme. One is a cameo showing Eleonora and Cosimo vis-à-vis, executed by Domenico 90 ‘Et nell’ altro vano piccolo … era il medesimo Duca, have haveva per mano l’illustrissima et Eccellentissima Sig. Duchessa sua consorte, la cui anima sia nella gloria del cielo … . Et come ella fu un essempio di castità et d’honestà. Così fu egli essempio maritale a tempi nostri d’amore e di fede.’ Mellini, Descrizione, pp. 109–110. See also Cini, Descrizione, p. 564: ‘Si vedeva l’amorevolissimo Duca, preso per mano con eccellentissima duchessa Eleonora sua consorte, donna di virile ed ammirabile virtù e prudenza, e con cui, mentre ella visse, fu di tale amor congiunto, che ben potette chiamarsi chiarissimo specchio di marital fede.’ 91 See Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, Chapters 10–12. 92 Frankfurt, Städelesches Kunstinstitut, Inv. 5601. See Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 276–278. 93 See Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 88, figure 46. Bronzino’s two idealized portraits of Eleonora – one in the Lamentation and one in The Crossing of the Red Sea and Moses Appointing Joshua – of course remained. See Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 264–265 and 316–318.

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Figure 10.7

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Agnolo Bronzino, Drawing for the chapel vault; Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt-am-Main (by permission)

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Compagni in 1574, just after Cosimo’s death.94 The other is a pair of tondi painted on slate in lunettes at either end of Francesco’s Studiolo in the Palazzo Vecchio, which was decorated under Vasari’s direction.95 They are linked by Eleonora’s gaze across the room at her husband. Toward the end of the work on the Studiolo in the winter of 1572–3, Cosimo suffered a series of massive strokes and was not expected to live. At this point – perhaps also in view of the tenth anniversary of Eleonora’s death in December 1562 – the scheme of the decoration was changed to accommodate portraits of the couple, painted by Allori.96 These memorial portraits are idealized images of Cosimo and Eleonora as the ever-youthful founders of the Medici dynasty. Like all the posthumous portraits of the ducal couple (the Cosimo is essentially a posthumous image), they are pastiches. Cosimo combines features of Bronzino’s two state portraits of him,97 while Eleonora is her youthful self, eerily echoing Bronzino’s early portraits of her (Figure 2.2), but with a contemporary costume and hairstyle (Figure 10.8). The portraits were inserted into a complex allegorical scheme of the Elements, the Seasons and the Signs of the Zodiac, in which Eleonora is surrounded by symbols of fecundity and marriage – the six zodiac signs of Spring and Summer and putti bearing the flowers and wheat of those fertile seasons. The decoration of her wall is devoted to the Element of Air and to Juno, traditionally associated with air. In the vault above her is a fresco of an airborne Juno by Il Poppi, and in a niche below is Giovanni Bandini’s bronze statue of the goddess. This ensemble is the last in a long series of works of art in the Palazzo Vecchio in which the duchess is identified with Juno. In Vasari’s decorations of the Apartment of the Elements in the late 1550s she is Juno (to Cosimo’s Jupiter) in the rooms of Jupiter, Opi and Ceres – rooms which essentially celebrate the ducal marriage – and particularly in the Terrace of Juno, dedicated to her.98 After Eleonora’s death the conceit was to have been carried to 94 Florence, Palazzo Pitti, Museo degli Argenti inv. gemme 1921, no. 115. See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, nos. 27,169 and 35,33 bis; McCrory, ‘Symbolism of Stones,’ pp. 167– 168; and McCrory, ‘Immutable Images,’ pp. 46–47. 95 McCrory, ‘Symbolism of Stones,’ p. 167, connects the choice of the hard and immutable slate support of the Studiolo portraits with Compagni’s contemporaneous use of a cameo for the images of the ducal couple. 96 See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, nos 27,182 and 35,38 (school of Bronzino); Lecchini Giovannoni, Alessandro Allori, cat. 189–190 (Allori); and Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, p. 52 (Allori?). 97 Cosimo in Armor of 1545 (Sydney, Gallery of New South Wales; see Simon, ‘Bronzino’s Portraits’, pp. 532–533 and 539) and Cosimo de’ Medici of 1556–7 (n. 62 above). 98 For Eleonora-Juno in the Room of Jupiter, see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 91–96; for the Room of Opi, see pp. 83–90; for the Room of Ceres, see pp. 74–79; and for the Terrace of Juno, see pp. 102–104. For Eleonora and Juno in Vasari’s Ragionamenti, see below,

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Figure 10.8

Alessandro Allori, Eleonora di Toledo. Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Studiolo of Francesco I (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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a monumental – and very public – conclusion in Bartolommeo Ammannati’s Fountain of Juno, designed in 1555, but this was only partially installed in the Salone dei Cinquecento on the occasion of Francesco’s wedding in 1565 and never completed.99 The fountain’s matriarchal iconography was intended to honour the women of the Medici house, with Juno/Eleonora seated on a rainbow in the air, accompanied by two peacocks.100 The portrait in the Studiolo, with its Juno iconography, is thus a final tribute to the duchess during Cosimo’s lifetime, a summum of the conceit of Eleonora genetrix as Juno, goddess of matrimony. Not only was Eleonora’s ownership of her chapel erased in 1565 and Ammannati’s fountain celebrating her never completed, but the downsizing of her image and of her importance that began with Francesco’s wedding apparato continued. It is evident both in literature and in portraiture. Vasari’s Lives of the Artists, published in 1568, essentially reflects Eleonora in life and is thus not relevant to her posthumous history, but his Ragionamenti sopra le invenzioni delle storie dipinte ne le stanze nuove del Palazzo Ducale, devised (Vasari’s word is sbozzato – sketched) in 1558 but not completed by 1568, is a different case entirely.101 It reflects Vasari’s attitude towards Eleonora after her death – and no doubt that of others at the grand-ducal court such as Cosimo Bartoli (who had provided the programme for the decorations of the stanze nuove) and Giorgio Vasari il Giovane, who completed and published it only in 1588. A fictitious dialogue between Vasari and Principe Francesco concerns the Medicean meanings (Vasari calls them ‘il senso nostro’) of the artist’s decorations of the first floor of Palazzo Vecchio (the Apartment of Leo X), which celebrate Medici history, and those of the second floor (the Apartment of the Elements), which depict a genealogy of the gods alluding to the historical narratives of the floor below. Vasari styles the relation between the two floors a ‘doppia orditura,’ equating the ‘dei terrestri’ – the Medici – with the ‘dei celesti’ – the gods.102 pp. 252–3. Edelstein, ‘La fecundissima Signora Duchessa’ gives further instances of this important theme. 99 For the iconography and reconstruction of this fountain, which (like Vasari’s rooms) was based on a programme by Cosimo Bartoli, see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 223–226. As Campbell, ‘Observations,’ pp. 821–824, has argued, the fountain is a female thematic pendant to Bandinelli’s Udienza at the other end of the Sala, with its statues of the men of the casa Medici. 100 Suggested by Richelson, Studies, p. 91, n. 440; and developed by Campbell, ‘Observations,’ pp. 823–824. For the alchemical programme of the fountain, in which the union of Air (Eleonora) and Earth (Cosimo) produce Water, alluding to the new life that Cosimo and Eleonora have brought to the Medici dynasty, see Rousseau, ‘Cosimo I de’ Medici,’ pp. 373–382. 101 For the Ragionamenti and its interpretation, see Tinagli, ‘Changing a Place in History.’ 102 Vasari, Le vite, 8:9–225. For these cycles, see Allegri and Cecchi, Palazzo Vecchio, pp. 55–174.

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Vasari’s main purpose in the Ragionamenti was to present Duke Cosimo as an ideal ruler and princely patron, while giving the late Duchess Eleonora short shrift.103 She figures in the decorations of the Room of Duke Cosimo on the first floor, where there is a small portrait of her (derived from Bronzino’s state portrait of c. 1549 in Pisa, Museo Nazionale di Palazzo Reale) and small oval vignettes of her entourage (Eleonora is not actually portrayed) leaving Naples and arriving at Poggio a Caiano for her marriage to Cosimo.104 Eleonora figures indirectly, but much more importantly, in several of the rooms in the Apartment of the Elements, in which Juno alludes to her, as noted above. Building on the Jupiter/Juno imagery of his frescoes, Vasari essentially recapitulates – at length – the conventional wisdom about Eleonora/ Juno as the ideal wife for Cosimo/Jupiter. Adonis and Venus in the Room of the Elements symbolizes the love of Cosimo and Eleonora; Saturn and Opi liberated by Jupiter in the Terrace of Saturn is an analogy to Emperor Charles V appointing Cosimo duke and giving him Eleonora as a wife; telling Francesco about a statue of Juno in the Terrace of Juno, Vasari emphasizes the Cosimo/Jupiter, Eleonora/Juno pairing; and, in the longest passage on Eleonora in the dialogues, he attributes Juno’s qualities to her: ‘like Juno, a goddess of air, of riches, of rulership, and of marriage … ; Her Excellency is surely Juno herself.’105 Visual evidence bears out Vasari’s clichés about Eleonora in the Ragionamenti. Even though her image never disappeared in Medici art of the later Cinquecento, she increasingly lost her personal identity, especially after Francesco’s death in 1587. Of the two modes of representing her in these years, the first was simply a continuation of the mode of the Studiolo, in which pendant portraits of the ducal couple commemorated them as founders of the grand-ducal Medici dynasty. An example is the apparato for the next great Medici wedding, that of Grand Duke Ferdinando to Cristina di Lorena in 1589, in which the city was decorated with a series of giant, embellished arches through which the bride made her entrata.106 As in Francesco’s wedding apparato of 1565, the last arch opening into the Piazza della Signoria was devoted to a glorification of the Medici past.107 Among the decorations 103 See Edelstein, ‘La fecundissima Signora Duchessa,’ pp. 83–92, for other comments about Eleonora in the Ragionamenti. 104 Vasari, Le vite, 8:195–196. Vasari merely names these scenes, making no comment on their significance. 105 Vasari, Le vite, 8:29, 41, 71–74. 106 For this apparato, see Petrioli Tofani, Feste e apparati, pp. 67–72, 205–206; and Saslow, Medici Wedding, especially Chapter 6. 107 See Gualterotti, Descrizione, pp. 144–148. An engraving from a series by Orazio Scarabelli shows the trompe-l’oeil architecture, statues in niches, and putti with the coats-of-arms on the end wall (see Petrioli Tofani, ‘Ingressi trionfali,’ figure 4.39).

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Adriaen Haelwegh, Eleonora di Toledo and Duke Cosimo de’ Medici, engravings. Florence, Gabinetto dei Disegni e Stampe degli Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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were gilded statues of Cosimo and Eleonora, inscribed with their names and surmounted by Medici–Toledo stemmi carried by putti.108 Such pendant portraits of Cosimo and Eleonora in various media continued to be made until the late seventeenth century. In a pair of engravings by Adriaen Haelwegh of 1675 the Cosimo reproduces (in reverse) Bronzino’s state portrait of 1556–7 (Figure 10.9a and b).109 The Eleonora is extracted (also in reverse) from Eleonora and her Son Giovanni of 1545 (Figure 2.2), but she has lost her Bronzinesque austerity, and she elegantly (but incongruously) holds a fan. The theme of Eleonora’s fecundity persisted even at this date: below her image is her personal device of the peahen with its young and the motto ‘Joyful fertility with modesty.’110 The second mode of representing the duchess after about 1580 was new. Eleonora is depicted independently of Cosimo, but rather than being alone she is one in a series of Medici historical portraits. In the 1580s various court artists painted several such series of monumental three-quarter or full-length portraits. The twenty-two portraits known as the Serie Aulica were commissioned in 1584–6 by Grand Duke Francesco to commemorate his ancestors. Lorenzo della Sciorina used the Eleonora of the double portrait with Giovanni (Figure 2.2) as a model for his portrait of her (Figure 10.10).111 It shows Eleonora seated in front of a green curtain striped with gold and, since she is shown almost full-length, the copyist had to add two more repetitions of the intricate gold pomegranate pattern of her dress. Giovanni is replaced by Garzia, dressed in brown and based on the prototype of Bronzino’s portrait of him of 1551 (Lucca, Pinacoteca). Other such portraits used as a model Bronzino’s last portrait of Eleonora (Figure 10.1), but avoided copying the thin face of the ill duchess depicted by Bronzino. One, known in a seventeenth-century copy, expands the portrait to full length (Figure 10.11).112 Eleonora stands beside a table on which the 108 ‘Sotto la statua della Duchessa Leonora era scritto: HELIONORAE TOLETANAE … nel sodo è lo scudo a quello del Gran Duca Cosimo simigliante, e dentro v’è l’arme de’ Medici, e quella di Toledo con le due figurette intorno.’ Gualterotti, Descrizione, p. 148. This decoration was a full dynastic statement, since there were also statues of the duke’s father, grandfather and all his sons. 109 Florence, Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe degli Uffizi, inv. 11474–75. See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, nos. 27,36–39 and 35,10–i; and Petrioli Tofani in La Corte il mare i mercanti, cat. 5.3–5.4. These are part of a series of thirty-one engravings, published in Allegrini, Chronologica series. 110 For this device, see Cox-Rearick, Bronzino’s Chapel, pp. 43–45. 111 Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi, Inv. 1890.2239; oil on canvas, 1.40 × 1.16 m; see Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,17. 112 Empoli, Villa Medicea di Cerreto Guidi; on deposit from Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi inv. 1890.2418; canvas, 2.21 × 1.18 m; see Gli Uffizi, no. lc 1051.

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Lorenzo della Sciorina, Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Garzia. Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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Anonymous, Eleonora di Toledo. Empoli, Villa Medicea di Ceretto Guidi (by permission of the Soprintendenza per i beni artistici e storici di Firenze, Florence)

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grand-ducal crown is displayed, an addition suggesting (falsely) that she bore the title of Grand Duchess (she died seven years before Cosimo became Grand Duke). An exceptionally interesting portrait of Eleonora takes us into the seventeenth century. Don Antonio de’ Medici, son of Grand Duke Francesco I, commissioned yet another commemorative Medicean series between 1613 and 1621 for a room in the Casino di San Marco. Designed by Jacopo Ligozzi, it was a paramento, or wall-hanging, of red velvet and gold, on which were appliqued life-size portraits in fabric, embellished with jewels and lace, of six famous Medici women: Duchess Eleonora di Toledo; Grand Duchesses Giovanna d’Austria, Cristina di Lorena, Maria Maddalena d’Austria and Bianca Cappello, and Maria de’ Medici, Queen of France. This series of female state portraits survived only until about 1760, but it is known from a set of watercolours made for Sir Horace Walpole (Figure 10.12).113 Eleonora, the founding mother of the grand-ducal dynasty, initiates the series. The composition is the last official Medici portrait to be modelled on Bronzino’s youthful duchess of the Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Giovanni (Figure 2.2). Here, however, Eleonora is shown seated full length wearing a gown of a blue and violet fabric with an elaborate floral design fashionable in the early Seicento.114 In keeping with the dynastic theme, it is the young Francesco who stands next to Eleonora.115 Ligozzi’s image is richly symbolic: on the table directly above the head of the future Grand Duke, in clear reference to his succession to Cosimo, is the grand-ducal crown. Eleonora was lost from sight as Medicean power waned in the later seventeenth century, and disappeared forever with the death of Grand Duke Gian 113 New Haven, Yale University, The Lewis Walpole Library. The watercolour of Eleonora measures 32 × 18.5 cm. The set was in the Strawberry Hill sale of 1842, SH.xviii.110, described as follows: ‘Six curious pictures, in water colours, of Mary de Medici and Louis XII [sic], and five Great Duchesses of Tuscany, copied from a chamber at the Pazzio [sic] Imperiale, near Florence, where the originals are dressed in the very clothes they wore, placed on the hangings, with the faces painted on satin.’ The set was subsequently sold at the Derby Sale (Christie’s, 2 July 1954, lot 207) to Agnew and thence to the Library. See Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, 1:135 and no. 35,42; and Langedijk, ‘Jacopo Ligozzi.’ 114 See Boccherini and Marabelli, ‘Sopra ogni sorte di drapperia,’ pp. 65–66. There is a bustlength replica of Ligozzi’s Eleonora – very idealized and wearing the same jewelled dress (61 × 47 cm; Christie’s, Enrich sale, 19 January 1982, lot 57). 115 The child is identified by Langedijk, Portraits of the Medici, no. 35,42, as dependent on Bronzino’s portrait of 1551 depicting him at age ten (Langedijk, no. 42,24; Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi). However, this boy is much younger and must have been based on Bronzino’s earlier portrait of Francesco at age four, mentioned by Vasari (Le vite, 7:597) and documented as painted in early 1545. See ASF, MdP 1171, ins. 6, no. 295 (discussed by Edelstein, ‘Early Patronage,’ pp. 349–351, and docs 46 and 48).

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Jacopo Ligozzi, Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Francesco. New Haven, Yale University Library, The Lewis Walpole Library (by permission)

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Figure 10.13

Antonio Bueno, Eleonora da Toledo con il figlio generalissimo del mare. Rome, private collection (by permission of Isabella Bueno)

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Gastone de’ Medici in 1737. She continued to live on, however, in poetry dedicated to her and even more vividly in Bronzino’s portraits. Eleonora di Toledo and her Son Giovanni, in particular, has long fascinated artists and (in a minor way) has become an iconic image like the Mona Lisa. Recent evidence of this is a delightful painting of 1984 by Antonio Bueno, Eleonora da Toledo con il figlio generalissimo del mare (Figure 10.13),116 which transforms the duchess into his signature moon-faced woman and Giovanni into a little sailor-boy. The Graduate School and University Center City University of New York I should like to thank my colleagues in the sessions on Eleonora di Toledo that took place at the annual meeting of the Renaissance Society of America in Chicago in April 2001, for their collegial conversations with me about Eleonora: Mary Westerman Bulgarella, Chiara Franceschini, Victoria Kirkham and especially Bruce Edelstein, who made valuable suggestions after reading a draft of this chapter, and the organizer, Konrad Eisenbichler, for his meticulous and sympathetic editing. I also thank Richard Aste, François Borne, Isabella Bueno, Alessandro Cecchi, Giovanna Lazzi, Jonathan Nelson, Deborah Parker, Elsa Homberg-Pinassi, Carol Plazzotta, Antonio Ricci, James Saslow and – as always – my husband, H. Wiley Hitchcock.

Cited Works Manuscript Sources Florence, Archivio di Stato (ASF) Corporazioni religiose soppresse sotto il governo francese 134 Manoscritti 128 (Settimanni) Guardaroba Medicea (GM) 49, 51, 52, 65 Mediceo del Principato (MdP) 219, 221, 280, 327, 1171, 1176, 1212a, 5107, 5922a Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana Archivio San Lorenzo (ASL) 35, 2145, 2325 Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale (BNCF) Magliabechiana II.X.100 Manoscritti II.I.313, ‘La Città di Firenze’ New York, The Pierpont Morgan Library MA 478 116 Rome, Private Collection; oil on feasite; 75 × 60 cm. For the painting by Bueno (1918– 84), see Antonio Bueno, no. 148.

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Relazioni degli ambasciatori veneti al Senato, ed. Eugenio Albèri. 15 vols. Florence: Clio, 1839–1863. Richa, Giuseppe. Notizie istoriche delle chiese fiorentine divise ne’ suoi quartieri. 10 vols. Florence: Viviani, 1754–1762; repr. Roma: Multigrafica, 1972. Richelson, Paul William. Studies in the Personal Imagery of Cosimo I de’ Medici, Duke of Florence. PhD dissertation. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, 1973; New York: Garland, 1978. The Roman Missal. New York: W.H. Creagh, 1822. Rousseau, Claudia J. ‘Cosimo I de’ Medici and Astrology: the Symbolism of Prophecy.’ PhD dissertation. New York: Columbia University, 1983; Ann Arbor: UMI, 1985. Saltini, Guglielmo Enrico. Tragedie medicee domestiche (1557–87). Florence: G. Barbèra, 1898. Saslow, James M. The Medici Wedding of 1589: Florentine Festival as ‘Theatrum Mundi.’ New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996. Scaduto, Mario. L’epoca di Giacomo Laínez. Il governo, 1556–1565. Storia della Compagnia di Gesù in Italia, 3. Rome: La Civiltà Cattolica, 1964. Segarizzi, Arnaldo. Relazioni degli ambasciatori veneti al Senato. 4 vols. Bari: Laterza, 1912–16. Simon, Robert B. ‘Bronzino’s Portrait of Cosimo I in Armour,’ Burlington Magazine 125 (1983), pp. 527–539. Simon, Robert B. ‘Bronzino’s Portraits of Cosimo I de’ Medici.’ PhD dissertation. New York: Columbia University, 1982; Ann Arbor: UMI, 1984. Starn, Randolf and Loren Partridge. Arts of Power: Three Halls of State in Italy, 1300–1600. Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1992. Stratton, Suzanne L. The Immaculate Conception in Spanish Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Tinagli, Paola. ‘Claiming a Place in History: Giorgio Vasari’s Ragionamenti and the Primacy of the Medici,’ pp. 63–76 in The Cultural Politics of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Tosi, C.O. ‘Abdicazione di Cosimo de’ Medici in favore del figliuolo Francesco’ Arte e Storia 26 (1907), pp. 23–25. Vasari, Giorgio. Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 9 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1878–85. Vasari, Giorgio. Der literarische Nachlass Giorgio Vasaris, ed. Karl Frey. Vols 1–2, Munich: G. Müller, 1923, 1930. Vol. 3, Burg b.M.: August Hopfer, 1940; repr. Hildesheim and New York: Georg Olms Verlag, 1982. Vettori, Piero. Laudatio Eleonorae Cosmi Medices, Floren. ac Sen. ducis, uxoris. Florence: Apud Laurentium Torrentinum, 1562. Vettori, Piero. Orazione di M. Piero Vettori nella morte dell’Illus. et excellen. Donna Leonora Di Toledo Duchessa di Firenze et di Siena, trans. Niccolò Mini. Florence: Appresso i figliuoli di Lorenzo Torrentino, 1563. Warner, Marina. Alone of All her Sex: The Myth and Cult of the Virgin Mary. New York: Knopf, 1976. Westerman Bulgarella, Mary. ‘The Burial Attire of Eleonora di Toledo,’ pp. 207–24 in The Cultural World of Eleonora di Toledo, Duchess of Florence and Siena, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004.

Index

Abelmann, Annelies 180 Aboab, Imanuel 182, 205 Abrabanel, Benvenida 182 Abraham 44 Accademia Fiorentina 29, 32 40, 44, 49 Acciaiuoli, Francesca 123 Achilles 124 Adelson, Candace 99, 102, 114 Adriani, Giovanbattista 152, 155, 232 Aeneas 124, 129–30 Ahasuerus (king) 112, 147 Ajmar 122, 124, 130, 132 Alba, duke of 19, 159, 164, 202 Albèri, Eugenio 266 Alberti, Leon Battista 104–5, 114 Albizzi, Eleonora 5 Aldana (captain) 183 Alexander VI (pope) 3, 21 Alexander the Great 120, 124–5 Alfonso of Aragon (king of Naples) 125 Alidosi, Ciro 228 Alighieri, Dante 10, 22, 26, 28–9, 35–8, 40, 44, 51, 58, 150–51, 167 Allegri, Ettore 2, 4, 16, 37–8, 74, 80, 83, 95, 98–9, 101–3, 107, 109–10, 114, 119–20, 132, 150, 155, 250, 252, 263 Allegrini, Giuseppe 256, 263 Allori, Alessandro 107, 242, 248, 250– 51 Almeni, Sforza 158 Alonso de Madrid (friar) 13, 159, 176 Altoviti, Bindo 237 Alvárez de Toledo see Toledo Amadís 174–6 Amalthea 92 Amazons (queen) see Penthesalea Ambrogi di Venezia, Bastiano 234 Ames-Lewis, Francis 56, 68–9

Ammannati, Bartolomeo 71–2, 78, 80– 83, 92 Ammirato, Scipione 233 Anderson, Ruth Matilda 173, 176 Andrea of Hungary 125 Andrés Martín, Melquíades 169, 176 Angelico (Fra) 56 Antinori, Bernardino 52, 57, 65 Antonia (donna) 106 Antoninus (St) 123, 130 Antonio of Aragon 166 Apelles 62, 129 Apollo 33, 36, 56, 59, 78 Arcadelt, Jacob 58 Aretino, Pietro 46 Aristotile see da San Gallo, Bastiano Aristotle 123 Arnold, Janet 208, 216–17, 223 Arredondo y Alvarado, Gonzalo de (friar) 164–5, 176 Arrighi, Vanna 2–3, 5, 16, 18, 38 Artemisia 111, 127 Asch, Ronald A. 205 Aste, Richard 262 Astudillo, Francisco de 184, 190–91, 197 Augsburg, Diet of 194 Augustus (emp.) 34–5, 61, 75, 89, 107 Averlino, Antonio see Filarete Baccheschi, Edi 225, 237, 245, 263 Bacchi della Lega, A. 134, 180 Baia, Anna 2–4, 6–8, 16, 53, 59, 67, 80, 95, 98, 113–14, 152, 155, 167, 176, 222–3, 227, 263 Ballesteros Gaibrois, Manuel 162, 176 Bandinelli, Baccio 78–80, 83, 92, 94, 101, 252 Bandini, Giovanni 3, 19, 34, 250 Barbarossa 166, 174

267

268

Index

Barbino (dwarf) 192 Barocchi, Paola 103, 114 Barriault, Anne B. 148, 155 Bartoli, Cosimo 110, 119, 121, 252 Bartolini de’ Medici, Onofrio 23 Bartram, Karen 100 Baskins, Cristelle L. 112, 114, 124, 126, 131–2 Bataillon, Marcel 166, 176 Battaglia, Salvatore 16 Battiferra, Laura 44–5, 47, 62, 233 Beaven, Lisa 116, 192 Beccafumi, Domenico 12, 128 Beceiro Pita, Isabel 159, 176 Behm, H.C.176 Bellincioni, Bernardo 46, 57 Bellini, Jacopo 46 Bellosi, Luciano 180 Bell, Susan Groag 159, 176 Beltrami Ceppi, Claudia 117 Bembo, Pietro 44, 46–7, 49, 62 Benci, Ginevra de’ 55, 62 Benedict (St) 235 Benesh, Otto 109, 115 Benes, Mirka 71 Benson, Pamela J. 12–13, 112, 115, 122–3, 131–2, 146, 153, 155 Bernardino (St) 123 Berni, Francesco 49 Bernis, Carmen 219, 223 Berti de Ravigniani, Belincion 151 Berti, Luciano 236, 263 Bertini Calosso, Achille 132 126 Bettini, Bartolommeo 44 Betussi da Bassano, Giuseppe 12, 123, 130 Bezzola, Guido 117 Birke, Adolf M. 205 Bisticci, Vespasiano da 123 Blaisdell, Charmarie J. 182, 205 Boccaccio, Giovanni 12, 44, 49, 110–12, 119, 122–4, 130 Boccherini, Tamara 242, 259, 263 Boitani, Piero 132, 155 Bonniwell, William R. 56, 67 Booth, Cecily 18, 26, 38, 227, 263 Borrelli, Raffaele 174, 176 Borghini, Raffaello 80, 83, 95, 103, 115, 237, 263

Borghini, Vincenzo 110, 119–21, 139– 40, 145, 151, 155, 234, 246–7 Borgia, Francisco (duke of Gandìa) 182 Borgia, Lucrezia (duchess of Ferrara) 21, 24 Borgia, Rodrigo see Alexander VI (pope) Borne, Françoise 262 Borromeo, Carlo (St) 71 Borromeo, Margherita 219 Borsook, Eve 231–2, 263 Bosch, Lynette M.F. 168, 176 Bottari, Giovanni 246, 263 Botticelli 47, 59–60, 148 Boucher, François 219, 223 Bracci, Marco 188 Brandt, Kathleen Weill-Garris 55, 67 Bronzini, Cristoforo 233 Bronzino, Agnolo 5, 10, 13, 15–16, 33, 40–45, 47, 49–59, 61–3, 67, 107, 138, 141–3, 157, 163, 168, 170–75, 213, 215, 219–20, 222, 225–6, 233, 237–8, 240–45, 248–9, 256, 259, 263 Brooks, Mary M. 223 Brown, Clifford Malcolm 265 Brown, David A. 59, 69–70 Brown, Judith C. 105, 115 Brown, Norman O. 96 Brubaker, David 21, 38 Bruni, Domenico 12, 122, 131 Bruni, Leonardo 131 Bruto, Giovanni Michele 124 Brutus 35, 127 Buccarini, Fina 125 Bueno, Antonio 261–2 Bueno, Isabella 262 Bulifon, Antonio 175–6 Bulst, Wolfger A. 102, 115 Buonarroti, Michelangelo 30, 38, 44, 230–31 Buondelmonti, Andrea (abp) 36 Buonsignori, Vincenzo 127, 133 Buontalenti, Bernardo 80 Burgassi, Antonio Cesare 47, 68 Burresi, Mariagiulia 223 Butazzi, Grazietta 219 Cacciante, Bernardino 123 Caesar, Julius 35, 61, 89, 120, 124, 127

Index Camilla 122, 128 Camillus 84, 125, 130–31 Campaldino (battle) 22 Campbell, Lorne 47, 52, 55, 68 Campbell, Malcolm 80, 95, 252, 263 Campbell, Stephen 96 Cano, Melchio 192 Cantagalli, Roberto 2–3, 5, 8, 16, 23–5, 38 Cantini, Lorenzo 78, 95 Cappello, Bianca 259 Capra, Galeazzo Flavio 123 Carmichael, Montgomery 237, 239, 263 Carrara, Enrico 263 Casapullo, Rosa 168, 177 Cassuto, Umberto 182, 205 Castaldo, Antonino 159, 166, 173 Castiglione, Baldassare 53 Cateau-Cambrésis (peace) 181 Catherine of Aragon (queen of England) 166 Cattaneo Bava, F. 194 Cavalca, Cecilia 111, 115 Cavallo, Adolfo Salvatore 168, 177 Cavriana 174 Cecchi, Alessandro 2, 4, 16, 37–8, 44, 46–7, 49, 59, 68, 74, 80, 83, 95, 98–9, 101–3, 107, 109–10, 114, 119–20, 132, 150, 155, 168, 177, 237, 250, 252, 262–3 Cellini, Benvenuto 227, 263 Cerasano, S.P. 135 Ceres 10, 72, 78–81, 83, 88–89, 95, 121, 250 Charlemagne 120 Charles V (emp.) 2, 13, 19–20, 23, 32, 34–35, 75, 89, 98, 102, 107, 113, 127, 154, 164–6, 172, 174, 183, 230, 232, 248 Charles I of England (king) 181 Cheney, Iris Hofmeister 101, 115 Chiappini, Luciano 127, 133 Chiarini, Marco 141, 156 Chiaromonte, Isabella di 123 Chigi family 129 Christiaens, Jean 159, 177 Christiansen, Keith 134 Christine of Lorraine (grand duchess) 175, 253, 259

269

Ciampelli, Agostino 230–31 Ciardi, John 29, 38 Ciarro, Antonio 184 Cini, Giovambattista 76, 95, 175, 177, 233, 246–8, 263 Circe 130 Cirni Corso, Antonfrancesco 71, 78, 96, 240, 263 Ciruelo, Pedro 168, 177 Cisneros, Francisco Jiménez de (card.) 168 Claudia (vestal virgin) 109 Claudia Quinta 127 Clelia 127 Clement VII (pope) 30, 77 Cleopatra 125, 127, 136, 148 Clifford, Timothy 103, 115, 121, 133 Cloelia 109 Clough, Cecil H. 129, 133 Clovio, Giulio 53 Cochrane, Eric 19, 30, 38 Cock, Hieronymus 108 Collenuccio, Paolo 175, 177 Collina, Beatrice 123, 133 Colomina, Beatriz 118 Colonna, Mario 228 Colonna, Vittoria (marquess of Pescara) 136, 146–8 Compagni, Domenico 250 Coniglio, Giuseppe 159, 177 Constantinople, fall 168 Conti, Cosimo 101, 103, 109, 115 Conti, Domenico 33 Conti, Giovanni de’ 193 Conti, Girolamo de’193 Contini, Alessandra 185 Contreras, Ana de 183 Contreras, Maria de 183 Coppi, Enrico 16, 205 Coreth, Anna 107, 115 Corfu, seige of 166 Coriolanus 129 Cornazzano, Antonio 122 Cornelia 109, 128 Coron, relief of 166 Corteccia, Francesco 31, 77 Cortest, Luis 159, 177 Corti, Laura 103, 115, 264 Costamagna, Philippe 53, 68

270

Index

Costo, Tommaso 175 Coudret, Louis de 189, 192–5, 197 Cox-Rearick, Janet 15, 44, 52–3, 59, 68, 71, 76, 80, 88, 96, 107–8, 113, 115, 138, 141, 143, 152, 155, 157–8, 163, 167, 170, 173, 175, 177, 222, 225, 230, 239–40, 243, 246, 248, 250, 256, 263–4 Cozzarelli, Guidoccio 128 Cranston, Jodi 44, 46, 53, 57, 68 Crawley, Charlotte 109, 118 Cristoforo de Madrid 198 Cropper, Elizabeth 44, 46, 56, 68, 245, 264 Cruciani, Fabrizio 28, 38 Cuesta Gutiérrez, L. 166, 177 Cupid 129 Cybele 10, 72, 78, 88, 92–3, 95 Cyrus 121 D’Accone, Frank A. 31, 38 D’Agobio, Agostino 232 d’Este, Alfonso (duke of Ferrara) 21, 24 d’Este, Ercole I (duke) 20, 126, 181 d’Este, Isabella (marchioness, 1474– 1539) 20, 44, 55, 106, 111, 123 d’Ubertino, Francesco (called il Bachiacca) 33 da Faenza, Marco 83 da Nola, Giovanni 172 da San Gallo, Bastiano (called Aristotile) 32 da Trino di Monferrato, Comin 12 Dabord, Michel 167, 177 Dalla Noce, Everardo 263 Daly Davis, Margaret 234, 264 Dante see Alighieri, Dante Davenport, Millia 219, 223 David (king) 153, 165, 168, 120–21, 239 Davies, Martin 129, 133 de Arredondo y Alvarado, Gonzalo (friar) 13 De Hoop Scheffer, D. 116 de la Peña, Pedro 193 de la Tour d’Auvergne, Madeleine 32 De Logu, Giuseppe 52, 68 de Rore, Cipriano 56 de Rubiales, Pedro 158

de Silva, Beatrice 239 de Vargas Machuca, Giuseppe 172, 177 de Winter, Patrick M. 162, 177 Deianira 125 del Garbo, Raffaellino 59 Del Monte (card.) 195 del Sarto, Andrea 47 del Tasso, Battista (or Giovanbattista) 11, 99, 120 del Vita, Alessandro 97, 135 Delilah 125 Della Casa, Giovanni 53 Della Pergola, Paola 97, 117 Della Rovere, Guidobaldo II (duke of Urbino) 3, 19 Della Sciorina, Lorenzo 256–7 Demeter 89 di Domenico, Antonio 33 di Sandro, Pier Francesco 33 Diana 61, 147 Diaz, Furio 19, 26, 38, 153, 155 Dickinson, Patrick 35, 39 Dido 124 Doceno see Gherardi, Cristofano Domenichi, Ludovico 5, 17, 143–5, 265 Domínguez Casas, Rafael 162, 177 Domínguez Rodríguez, Ana 168, 177 Dominicans 182 Doria, Andrea 166 Dovizi da Bibbiena, Bernardo (card.) 75 Dunkerton, Jill 128–9, 133 Durling, Robert M. 51, 59, 69 Edelstein, Bruce 10–11, 52, 68, 74–5, 80, 83, 92, 96, 101–2, 104, 107–8, 113–15, 138, 143, 147, 150, 155, 158–9, 177, 234–5, 239, 246, 252–3, 259, 262, 264 Egeria 144–5 Eichberger, Dagmar 102, 116 Eiche, Sabina 106, 116 Eisenbichler, Konrad 16, 38–9, 63, 68– 71, 96–7, 114, 116–17, 134–5, 156, 262, 264, 266 Eixeménis, Françesc 162–3, 177 El Cid 164 Eleanor of Austria see Leanor of Austria Eleazar 108

Index Eleonora of Aragon (duchess of Ferrara) 20, 111, 122–3, 126–7, 158 Emiliani, Andrea 237, 264 Ersilia 109 Esther 12, 109, 111–12, 120–21, 131, 146–9 Estrada, Francisco 15, 197, 203–4, 227 Evans, Christopher 68 Fahy, Conor 122, 133 Falisco, Orazio Flavio (pseud?) 136 Fancelli, Giovanni see Nanni di Stocco Fantoni, Marcello 49, 68 Farnese, Alessandro (card.) see Paul III (pope) Farnese, Giulia 3 Farnese, Ottavio 19 Farnese, Pier Luigi (duke of Parma and Piacenza) 3–4 Farnese, Vittoria (duchess of Urbino, 1519–1602) 3, 19 Fedeli, Vincenzo 18, 227, 246 Feinberg, Larry J. 103, 116 Feldman, Martha 56, 70 Felizes (captain) 183 Fenlon, Iain 47, 68 Ferdinand I (emp.) 152 Ferdinand the Catholic (king of Spain) 3, 167, 172 Ferguson, Margaret W. 68, 115 Ferino-Pagden, Silvia 111, 116 Fermor, Sharon 55–6, 69 Ferrai, Luigi A. 3, 16, 227, 264 Ferrero, Giuseppe Guido 16, 96 Festa, Costanzo 31 Ficino, Marsilio 49 Figueroa, Isabella 184 Filarete 110–11, 116 Finoli, Anna Maria 116 Firenzuola, Agnolo 55, 69 Firpo, Massimo 205 Florentine Academy see Accademia Fiorentina Foister, Susan 133 Follini, Vincenzo 234–5, 264 Fontanus, Jacobus 165 Foresti da Bergamo, Giacomo Filippo 126–7, 161, 178 Foronda y Aguilera, Manuel de 173, 178

271

Fortini, Davide 92, 94 Franceschini, Chiara 14, 59, 107, 116, 150, 156, 181, 205, 222–3, 228, 234, 262–4 Francesco il Vecchio da Carrara (lord of Padua) 125, 130 Francesco Novello da Carrara 125, 130 Franchi, Antonio 235 Francis (St) 108, 157–8, 162–3, 169 Franco Silva, A. 159, 178 Franco, Battista (called Semolei) 33 Franke, Birgit 102, 112, 116 Frattarelli Fischer, Lucia 182 Freux, André de 186–7, 191 Frey, Karl 30, 38, 97, 117, 135, 156, 266 Gaia 76, 89 Galatea 46 Galeotti, Pietro Paolo 167 Galigari da Gagliano, Francesco (bp) 187 Galle, Thedor 109 Gallego y Burin, Antonio 162, 178 Gallerani, Cecilia 46, 57 Gallo Léon, Francesco José 157 Galluzzi, [Jacopo] Riguccio 76, 96 Gardner, Edmund G. 126, 133 Garfagnini, Giancarlo 95, 114, 263 Gasparotto, Cesira 125, 133 Gaston, Robert 13, 44, 242, 264 Gelli, Giambattista 31–2, 36, 44 Genga, Girolamo 129 Genna, Giuseppe 219, 223 Gennaro, Cesare de 183 Gentili, Augusto 70 Gherardi, Cristofano (called il Doceno) 83 Ghirlandaio, Ridolfo del 99, 130 Giambologna 246 Giambullari, Pierfrancesco 23–4, 27, 29, 31–2, 36, 38, 44, 77, 96 Ginori Conti, Piero 246–7, 264 Gioffredi Superbi, Fiorella 68 Giotto 12, 124 Giovio, Paolo 11, 16, 76, 80, 96, 141, 156 Girardi, Enzo Noè 38 Giunti Press 151 Goggio, Bartolomeo 126

272

Index

Golden, Andrea 114 Gonzaga, Eleonora 106 Gonzaga, Elisabetta 123 Gonzaga, Giulia 166 Gould, H.E. 39 Granada (siege of) 161 Grassi, Luigi 97, 117 Grifoni, Ugolino (ducal secr.) 3 Guadagni, Giovanni 232 Gualdrada 12, 109, 112, 120–21, 148, 151–4 Gualterotti, Raffaello 253, 256, 264 Guerra, Guido 148 Guias, Alonso (captain) 183 Guidi, Jacopo 227 Guido Ferrero, Giuseppe 156 Gundersheimer, Werner L. 126, 133 Guzmán, Diego de 14–15, 174, 183, 185, 188, 191–6, 227, 234 Guzmán, Leonor de 184, 192 Haar, James 47, 57–8, 68–9 Haelwegh, Adriaen 254–6 Hale, J.R. 68 Hansmann, Martina 110, 116 Hasdrubal 127 Hazard, Mary H. 122, 133 Hebe 88 Hector 124 Hedley, Joanne 243 Heikamp, Detlef 78, 80, 96–7, 101, 103, 109, 116, 117 Helen 125 Henry VIII of England (king) 166 Hercules 107, 121, 124–5 Hernado Sánchez, Carlos José 158, 159, 161, 164–5, 172, 174, 184, 190, 205 Herrera, Christoforo de (nephew of the secr ) 193 Herrera, Christoforo de (secr ) 184, 190 Hersilia 146–9 Hesiod 78, 96 Hibbard, Caroline 181, 205 Hibbert, Christopher 25, 38 Highfield, J.R.L. 161, 178 Hirschbiegel, Jan 116 Hitchcock, H. Wiley 262 Hollstein, Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich 109, 116

Homberg-Pinassi, Elsa 262 Hoppe, Ilaria 11–12, 113, 116, 121, 134 Horn, Hendrik J. 166, 178 Howatson, M.C. 156 Hughes, Graham 124, 134 Ingamells, John 245, 264 Io 142 Iotti, Roberta 123, 134 Iris 88 Isabel of Aragon (queen of Naples) 161 Isabel of Portugal (d. 1517) 112, 240 Isabella (empress, wife of Charles V) 164, 240, 253 Isabella I ‘the Catholic’ (queen of Spain) 159–62, 167, 172, 178 Ivars, Andrés 163, 178 Janson-La Palme, Robert J.H. 126, 134 Janus 120 Jenkins, Marianna 52, 69 Jeremiah 239 Jerome (St) 157–8, 161–2, 166, 237 Jeronimite order 161 Jesuits 1–2, 5, 14–15, 107, 150, 182–98, 227, 234, 239 Jews 8, 150, 163, 182 Joanna of Austria (grand duchess) 121, 229, 246, 248, 259 Joanna of Naples (queen) 125 John the Baptist (St) 239 John the Evangelist (St) 161–3, 167–9, 239 Jones, Lars R. 116 Jones, Roger 75, 96 Joost-Gaugier, Christiane 125, 134 Joseph (Old Testament) 240 Joseph of Arimathaea 44 Joshua 44, 108, 169–70, 240 Juan de Avila 195 Juana ‘La Loca’ of Castille (queen) 112 Judith 111, 122, 127, 136, 146, 148 Julius III (pope) 189, 194 Juno 10, 13, 71–72, 80, 82–3, 87–8, 141–2, 145, 147, 233, 250, 252–3 Jupiter 87, 121, 142, 145, 250, 253 Kauter, L.B.134 Keith, Larry 61, 70

Index Kent, F.W. 264 King, John N. 245, 264 Kirkham, Victoria 40, 44, 46, 49, 51, 58, 69, 233, 262 Kliemann, Julian 237 Klinger Aleci, Linda 44, 69 Knights of St John 165 Kohl, Benjamin G. 125, 134 Kress, Susanne 105, 116 Labalme, Patricia 133 Lailach, Michael 114 Laínez, Christobal 189, 191 Laínez, Diego 14, 174–5, 178, 183, 185, 188–8, 203, 234 Landi, Antonio 31–2 Landi, Neroccio de’ 47 Land, Norman E. 44, 46, 53, 69 Lando, Ortensio 123 Langdon, Gabrielle 10, 33, 38, 44, 47, 49, 52–3, 56, 69, 132 Langedijk, Karla 143, 156, 225, 235, 240, 245, 247, 250, 259, 264 Lapini, Agostino 11, 77, 96 71, 78, 227– 8, 234–5, 246, 265 Laura (Petrarch’s) 10, 26, 40, 46–7, 49, 51–2, 55–9, 129 Lawrence, Cynthia 117, 134, 180 Lazzaro, Claudia 80, 96–7 Lazzi, Giovanna 53, 59, 69, 262, 265 Leanor of Austria (sister of emp. Charles V) 13, 165 Lecchini Giovannoni, Simona 237, 242, 250, 265 Lefrevre, Renato 98, 116 Lensi, Alfredo 101–2, 116, 121, 134 Lenzi, Lorenzo 44, 47 Leo X (pope) 34, 77, 229 Leonardo da Vinci 46, 55, 57, 62 Leone, Pompeo 172 Leopold II (grand duke) 207 Leslie, Alexander 178 Leturia, Pedro 167–8, 178 Levey, Michael 245, 265 Lewis, Doug 157, 170 Licurgus 120 Liebenwein, Wolfgang 106, 116 Ligozzi, Jacopo 259–260 Lippe, Robert 168, 178

273

Liscia Bemporad, Dora 69, 223, 263–5 Livy 122, 131 Lorenzoni, Antonio 246, 263 Lorenzoni, Giovanni 125, 134 Louis XII of France (king) 181, 259 Lowinsky, Edward E. 31, 39 Loyola 14, 174, 178, 182–3, 185–91, 193–4 Luchinat, Cristina Acidini 145, 156 Lucina 87 Lucretia 21, 126–30, 136, 146–8 Ludolph of Saxony 166–7 Luke, Mary M. 166, 178 MacDougall, Elisabeth B. 96 Machiavelli, Niccolò 47 Malatesta Gonzaga, Paola 123 Maldonado, Francisco 184 Manca, Joseph 111, 116, 126, 134 Mann, Nicholas 47, 69, 265 Manni, Domenico Maria 155 Mannucci, Aldo 233 Manuzio the Younger, Aldo 152, 156 Marabelli, Paola 242, 259, 263 Maramaldo, Fabrizio 183 Marcia 111, 128 Marçilia (servant) 183 Margaret of Austria (1480–1530) 102 Margaret of Austria (1522–1586) 24, 32, 98 Maria Maddalena of Austria 259 Maria of Portugal (1521–1577) 59 Marinelli, Guido 52, 68 Marineo Siculo, Lucio 161 Marlier, Georges 174, 178 Mars 147 Martelli, Camilla 5 Martelli, Giuseppe 235 Martelli, Ugolino 44, 47 Martín de Córdova 160, 178 Martini, Luca 44 Martini, Mario 123, 134 Martini, Simone 46–7, 56, 62 Marucelli 153, 156, 185, 196 Mary of Burgundy (1457–1482) 112 Mary Tudor (queen) 166 Marzi de’ Medici, Alessandro (bp) 235 Marzi de’ Medici, Marzio (bp) 75 Marzocco 153

274

Index

Masaconi, Giovanni Pietro 31 Mas, Carlos 157 Matteoli, Anna 245, 265 Matthew, Louisa C. 115 Maximilian I (emp.) 129 May, Florence 240, 265 Mazzoni, F. 135 McCrory, Martha 250, 265 McGee, Timothy J. 31, 39 Medici, Alessandro de’ (duke) 2, 5, 18, 30, 32, 35, 76–7, 98, 152 Medici, Alessandro d’Ottaviano 235 Medici, Anna di Cosimo de’ 4, 14, 175 Medici, Antonio di Cosimo de’ 4, 76 Medici, Antonio di Francesco 259 Medici, Bia di Cosimo de’ 5, 47, 49–51, 243 Medici, Cosimo I de’ (grand duke) 1–15, 18–26, 28–37, 40, 47, 57, 59–60, 71– 2, 74–8, 83, 89, 92, 98–9, 101–3, 106–7, 110, 113–14, 119–22, 129–31, 137–41, 143, 145, 147–55, 157–8, 163, 174–5, 181–3, 185, 188–90, 194–5, 197–9, 201, 206–7, 225, 227, 230, 232–5, 239–40, 242–3, 245–8, 250, 252–6, 259, 265 Medici, Ferdinando I (grand duke) 4, 15, 195, 204, 225, 227, 253 Medici, Francesco I (grand duke) 4, 15, 49, 52, 78, 163, 197, 199, 201, 225, 228, 232, 234, 246, 248, 250, 252–3, 256, 259 Medici, Garzia di Cosimo de’ 4–5, 195, 197, 207, 222, 227, 229, 247, 256–7 Medici, Gian Gastone 262 Medici, Giovanni di Cosimo de’ (card., 1543–1563) 4–5, 10, 15, 33, 43, 47, 59, 76, 197, 200, 203, 225, 227, 229, 247, 256, 262 Medici, Giovanni di Cosimo de’ (illeg., 1567–1621) 5 Medici, Giuliano 59 Medici, Giulio d’Alessandro 228 Medici, Ippolito de’ (card.) 77 Medici, Isabella di Cosimo de’ 4, 49, 76, 220, 222 Medici, Jacopo de’ 3–4, 98–9 Medici, Lorenzino (called Lorenzaccio) 32

Medici, Lorenzo ‘the Magnificent’ de’ (1449–1492) 19, 29, 35–6, 49, 59 Medici, Lorenzo de’ (duke of Urbino) 32, 76 Medici, Lucrezia di Cosimo de’ 4, 49, 51, di Cosimo 76 Medici, Maria di Cosimo de’ 4, 173 Medici, Maria de’ (queen of France) 259 Medici, Onofrio Bartolini de’ (abp of Pisa) 4 Medici, Pedricco di Cosimo de’ 4 Medici, Piero ‘the Gouty’ di Cosimo ‘il Vecchio’ 197 Medici, Pietro di Cosimo 4, 52, 154 Medici, Tommaso de’ 72, 234, 242– 3 Medici, Virginia di Cosimo de’ (illeg., 1568–1614) 5 Mellini, Domenico 246–7, 265 Meoni, Lucia 92, 97, 141, 156 Merriman, Roger Bigelow 166, 178 Meseguar Fernández, Juan 161, 178 Meulenkamp, Wim 180 Mexía, Pedro 166, 178 Mezzatesta, Michael Philip 107–8, 116 Miccio, Scipione 159, 166, 178 Michael (archangel) 161–3, 165, 235 Michelangelo see Buonarroti, Michelangelo Migiel, Marilyn 97 Milan, duke of 19 Milanesi, Gaetano 17, 39, 97, 117, 135, 266 Milner, Stephen 96 Mini, Niccolò 17 Minor, Andrew C. 18, 39, 77, 97, 117 Mir, Miguel 178 Mitchell, Bonner 39, 77, 97, 117 Modio, Giovanni Battista 130 Molteni, Monica 126, 134 Monesino 166 Montefeltro Malatesta, Battista 123 Moors 161, 163–6, 174 Moral y Perez de Zayas, José María del 159, 165–6, 179 Morandini, Francesca 141, 156 Moreni, Domenico 67, 222–3, 229, 232– 3, 265, 263 Mori, Giovanbattista 74 Morone, Giovanni (card.) 194

Index Morrall 56 Morrogh, Andrew 68 Mortari, Luisa 74, 97 Mortimer, Stanley 170 Moschini, Baccio 31 Moses 13–14, 44, 107–8, 162, 165, 168– 70, 173–4, 240 Murray, Jacqueline 69 Musa, Mark 38 Musefilo 173 Mussolin, Mauro 77 Nanni di Stocco 92, 94 Nelson, Jonathan 71, 262 Neptune 92 Nerli, Benedetto (bp) 229 Nero 125 Neroni, Bartolomeo 131 Niccolini, Agnolo 3 Nieto, José C. 174, 179 O’Malley, Aidan 198 O’Malley, John 182, 195, 206 Oberer, Angela 114 Oliva, Mario 166, 179 Ops 72, 78, 83, 87, 121, 250 Order of Santiago 165 Order of Santo Stefano 234 Order of St James of the Sword 161 Order of the Immaculate Conception 239 Orlandi, Giovanni 114 Osols Wehden, Irmgard 116, 134 Osorio Pimentel, Maria 2, 13, 158–62, 164, 172 Osorio, Alonso 164 Osorio, Eleonora 182 Osorio, Pedro 164 Osuna, Francisco de 169–70, 179 Otto IV (emp.) 112, 148, 151–2, 154 Ovid 44, 47 Paatz, Walter and Elizabeth 234, 265 Padilla, Jean de 167–8, 179 Paganucci, Luigi 214 Pagni, Lorenzo 75, 158, 182, 191, 227 Pallas Athena 59 Pallavicini, Camilla (marquess of Cortemaggiore) 12

275

Pan 129 Panciatichi, Bartolomeo 44 Panciatichi, Lucrezia 44 Panizza, Letizia 115, 132, 135 Paravicini, Werner 116 Paris 21, 124 Parker, Deborah 40, 44, 46, 49, 51–2, 57, 61–2, 69, 233, 262, 265 Parmegiani, Sandra 15 Partridge, Loren 246, 266 Paschino (maestro) 190 Pasquali, Andrea 227 Paul III (pope) 3–4, 19, 107, 182 Pecori, Tommaso 72, 74 Pedio, Tommaso 159, 166, 179 Penco, Mariagrazia 96 Penelope 12, 109, 120–21, 129–30, 147, 148–50 Penny, Nicholas 75, 96, 133 Penthesalea (queen of the Amazons) 122, 125, 136, 146–7 Perez Pastor, Cristobal 168, 179 Perez, Diego (captain) 183 Perez, Julian 183 Pericoli, Niccolò see Tribolo Perondini, Pietro 232 Petrarca, Francesco 10, 26, 44, 49–53, 55–6, 61, 69, 110, 112, 117, 122, 125, 129 Petrioli Tofani, Annamaria 246, 253, 256, 265 Petrucci family 128–9 Petrucci, Francesco (lord of Siena, r. 1519–1525) 12, 128 Petrucci, Pandolfo ‘il Magnifico’ (d. 1512) 129 Petrucci, Scipione di Girolamo 128 Pharaoh 167, 169 Philip II of Spain (king) 71, 172, 230, 232 Philomelus 78 Piccolomini family 129 Piccolomini del Mandolo, Caterina 128 Pieraccini, Gaetano 2–3, 16, 98, 117, 152, 156, 219, 222, 223, 227, 265 Pietra, Clemente 228 Pilliod, Elizabeth 170, 179 Pimentel, Alonso 164 Pinelli, Antonio 55, 61, 69

276

Index

Pinturicchio 129–30 Pistoia, Compagnia de’ Magi 187–8 Pitti, Luca 72 Pius IV (pope) 71 Place, E.B. 176 Plato 123 Plazzotta, Carol 40, 47, 61, 69–70, 243, 245, 262, 265 Pliny 129 Plon, Eugène 80, 97 Plutarch 122, 131 Plutus 78 Poggini, Domenico 80 Polanco, Juan Alfonso de 14, 162, 174– 5, 179, 182–3, 185–9, 206 Polixena 124 Polizzotto, Lorenzo 188, 206 Polyclitus 62 Polyxena 58 Pompilio, Numa 144 Pontormo 46, 47 Poppi (il) 250 Porta, Giuseppe 156 Portia 127 Portinari, Beatrice 9–10, 22, 26, 28–9, 36–7, 44 Portoghesi, Paolo 114 Previtali, Giovanni 97, 117 Proske, Beatrice Gilman 162, 172, 179 Puligo, Domenico 47–48 Puppi, Lionello 134 Pygmalion 46, 62 Querini Massola, Elisabetta 46, 53 Quilligan, Maureen 115 Quintus Metellus 120 Quondam, Amedeo 52, 70 Rahner, Hugo 182–3, 194, 206 Rampollini, Matteo 31 Raneo, José 164, 179 Rangoni, Pietro 129 Raphael 53, 75 Rastrelli, Modesto 234–5, 264 Reinoso, Isabella de 184, 190, 192 Reiss, Sheryl E. 68–9, 115, 133, 177 Renée de France (duchess) 181 Repetti, Emanuele 74, 97 Revuelta Somalo, Josemaría 161, 179

Ricasoli, Giovanni Battista (bp) 192, 201 Ricci, Antonio 47, 228, 262 Ricci, Corrado 134, 180 Riccio, Pierfrancesco (ducal secr ) 4, 26, 44, 72, 75, 98, 108, 158, 168, 170, 182, 189 Richa, Giuseppe 234–5, 239, 266 Richelson, Paul 59, 61, 70, 252, 266 Ridolfi, Luigi 3, 78 Ripa, Cesare 49 Robert of Anjou (king of Naples) 12, 124–5 Roberti, Ercole de’ 126 Rodini, Robert J. 20–21, 28, 39 Rodríguez Valencia 161–2, 179 Rogers, Mary 46–7, 52–3, 56, 68–70 Romano, Giulio 55, 75 Rosani, Leonardo called ‘il cavalier Rosso’ 191–2, 197 Rosci, Mario 95, 115, 263 Rossi, Aldo 180 Rossi, Giovanni de’ 191 Rosso (cavalier) see Rosani, Leonardo Rosso, Gregorio 159, 166, 179 Rotondi, Pasquale 106, 117 Rousseau, Claudia 57, 70, 252, 266 Roxana 124 Rudolf I (emp.) 107 Ruffini, Franco 28 Ruiz Alcón, Maria Teresa 162, 179 Rummel, Erika 164, 180 Rustici, Giovanni Francesco 170 Rutt, Richard 216, 223 Saavreda, Santiago 223 Sabadino degli Arienti, Giovanni 122–3, 134, 137, 160–61, 180 Sabine women 12, 120–21, 131, 147 Salmas 183 Salmerón, Alfonso 190 Saltini, Guglielmo Enrico 49, 65, 70, 227–8, 266 Salutati, Barbara 47–8 Salviati bank 72 Salviati, Averardo 72, 74 Salviati, Francesco 10, 72–4, 78, 83–4, 101–2, 130 Salviati, Maria 6, 11, 47, 56, 59, 75, 99, 103, 153, 184, 240, 242

Index Salviati, Pietro di Alamanno 74 Samson 124 Sánchez Canton, Francisco Javier 162, 168, 180 Sánchez Montes, Juan 166, 180 Sandoval, Diego 56 Sangallo, Antonio di Orazio da 175, 184–5, 196 Sangallo, Aristotile da 111 Sanguinetti, Edoardo 38 Sanseverino, Giberto 111 Saslow, James M. 30, 38, 262, 266 Sastro, Ernando 184 Saturn 87, 89–90, 121 Scaduto, Mario 174, 180, 183, 203, 206, 227, 234, 266 Scarabelli, Orazio 253 Schiesari, Juliana 97 Schnucker, Robert V. 205 Scipio 120, 129 Scorza, Rick A. 103, 117, 121, 134 Scott Munshower, Susan 70 Scott-Cesaritti, Susan 65 Scotus, Duns 237 Segarizzi, Arnaldo 39, 227, 266 Serguidi, Antonio 227 Serguidi, Guido 228 Settimanni, Francesco 228, 242 Sforza Bentivoglio, Ginevra 122–3, 137 Sforza, Battista 123 Sforza, Francesco (duke) 110 Sforza, Lodovico (duke) 57 Shearman, John 46, 53, 57, 70, 71, 75 Sheba, queen of 124 Signorelli 129 Sigüenza, José de 161, 180 Simonetta, Marcello 19, 39 Simon, Robert 53, 70, 240, 250, 266 Simons, Patricia 264 Sivigliano di Madrid 184 Sixtus IV (pope) 239 Slim, Colin 47, 70 Smith, Graham 40, 47, 70 Smyth, Carolyn 107, 113, 117, 121, 134, 138, 158, 180 Sobré, Judith Berg 162, 180 Sofonisba 127 Solis, Pedro de (majordomo) 183–4 Solomon 120, 121, 124

277

Solon 120 Somigli, Irene 77 Sommi Picenardi, Giorgio 207, 214–15, 224 Spannocchi, Antonio 127 Spannocchi, Giulio 127 Spinelli, Vicenza 172, 175 Spini, Gherardo 233 Spini, Giorgio 3–5, 8–9, 17, 18, 37, 39, 153, 156, 206 Spinola, T. 194 Sricchia Santoro, Fiorella 133 St Clair, Alexandrine N. 174, 180 Starn, Randolf 246, 266 Stephen (St) 235 Stix, Alfred 115 Stradano, Giovanni (Jan van der Straet) 12, 103, 109, 121 Stratton, Suzanne 239, 266 Strehlke, Carl Brandon 127, 134 Strehl, Melina 216, 224 Strozzi, Alessandro 188 Strozzi, Filippo 31–2 Strozzi, Giovambattista 31–2 Strozzi, Pietro 170 Süleyman 166 Summonte, Giovanni Antonio 158, 180 Sustris, Friedrich 103, 109, 141 Symonds, John Addington 52 Synne-Davies, Marion 135 Syson, Luke 69, 126, 134, 265 Tacchi Venturi, Pietro 183, 188, 195, 206 Talavera, Hernando de (friar) 162 Tallini, Antonio 188 Tanaquil 128 Tarquin 120, 127 Tarugi, Bernardo 214 Tasso, Torquato 123 Tatrai, V. 127, 129, 134, 148, 156 Tellus 89 Theunissen, Hans 180 Thiem, Gunther 103, 109, 117 Ticozzi, Stefano 246, 263 Tinagli, Paola 12, 52, 63, 70, 110, 117, 121, 124, 126, 135, 142, 156, 252, 266 Tippelskirch, Xenia V. 114

278

Index

Titian 46, 53 Titus Quintius 120 Tolaini, Emilio 197, 206 Toledo, Anna Alvárez de’ 2 Toledo, Diego de 165 Toledo, Eleonora de (‘Dianora’, 1553– 1576) di 52, 65 Toledo, Eleonora di (duchess) 1–16, 18– 29, 33, 36–7, 40–43, 47, 51–9, 61–2, 71–2, 74–8, 80, 83, 87–9, 92, 95, 98– 9, 101–4, 107–8, 111, 113, 119–22, 124, 127, 131, 136–55, 157–60, 162– 4, 166–8, 173–5, 181–98, 201, 207–11, 213–19, 221–2, 225–36, 239–40, 242–8, 250–54, 256–62 Toledo, Fadrique Alvárez de 166, 173 Toledo, Federigo Alvárez de 2 Toledo, Fernando de 164 Toledo, Francisco de (uncle/cousin?) 184 Toledo, Francisco de (friar) 164 Toledo, Garcia Alvárez de’ 2, 166, 173, 183–4 Toledo, Giovanna Alvárez de’ 2 Toledo, Guttierre de 183–4 Toledo, Isabella Alvárez de’ 2–3, 19, 25, 158, 173 Toledo, Juan Alvárez de (card.) 183, 194 Toledo, Luis Alvárez de 2, 184, 191 Toledo, Pedro Alvárez de (viceroy of Naples) 1–3, 8, 13–14, 19–20, 24, 99, 159, 161, 164–6, 173–5, 182–3 Toledo, Pedro Alvárez de (Eleonora’s uncle/cousin?) 183–4, 187–8, 190, 192 Tomasi, Francesco 71 Tomyris 122 Torrentino 5 Torriti, Pietro 128, 132 Torti, Anna 132, 155 Tosi, C.O. 246, 266 Towne, Gary 56, 70 Travi, Ernesto 96 Trent, Council of 181, 189, 194 Trexler, Richard C. 33–4, 39 Tribolo 26–7, 33, 40, 92, 94 Tripp, Edward 78, 97 Triptolemus 91 Truxillo, Christoforo 193

Tuccia 109, 127 Tudor (princess) 19 Tunis, battle 166, 174 Turks 164–7, 173–4 Turner, James Grantham 115, 132 Ugoletti, Elpidio 189–91 Ulysses 129–30, 147 Uppenkamp, Bettina 114 Urnas (baylo) 183 Vaamonde Romero, José Ramon 159, 180 Vaccaro 56 Valdes, Juan de 174 Valerius Maximus 122, 127 van der Straet, Jan see Stradano, Giovanni Varchi, Benedetto 40, 44, 53, 47, 53, 57–9, 62, 233 Vasari, Giorgio 11–12, 17, 26–8, 33, 39, 77, 80, 83, 85–93, 97, 101–6, 110–13, 117, 119–21, 124, 130–32, 135, 137, 139–43, 151, 156, 158, 180, 233, 237, 240, 246–7, 252–3, 266 Vasari, Giorgio (the Younger) 252 Veen, Henk th van 109, 112, 117 Vega, Juan de (viceroy of Sicily) 182 Venafro, Antonio 129 Venturelli, Paola 219, 224 Venus 46, 128 Verdelot, Philippe 31 Vertova, Luisa 219, 224 Vespucci, Simonetta 47, 59–60 Vettori, Piero 5, 17, 229–30, 232–3, 266 Veturia 109 Vezzosi, Alessandro 96 Viale Ferrero, Mercedes 103, 109, 117 Vickers, Nancy 115 Viera, David J. 163, 180 Vigo, Pietro 176 Villani, Giovanni 112, 150–51, 156 Vindel, Francisco 167, 180 Virgil 35–6, 39, 89 Virgilia 130 Virginia 127 Visconti, Bianca Maria (duchess) 110, 122 Vitelleschi, Giovanni (card.) 126, 130

Index Vitruvius 105 Vodoz, Eduard 71, 97 Volumnia 130 von der Osten Sacken, Cornelia 172, 180 von Henneberg, Josephine 131, 135 von Nettesheim, Agrippa 144 Vos, Alvin 68

Wigley, Mark 105, 118 Wilkens, David G. 68–9, 96, 115, 133, 177 Wilkins Sullivan, Ruth 126, 135 Xenophon 105 Ximénez de Préxano, Pedro 167, 180 Young, C.F. 5, 17

Walpole, Sir Horace 259 Warner, Marina 239, 266 Watt, Mary A. 9–10, 22, 28–9, 39, 44, 70, 77, 97, 99, 108, 117 Welch, Evelyn Samuels 106, 117 Westerman Bulgarella, Mary 15, 228, 262, 266 White, Christopher 109, 118 Whiteley, J.L. 39

279

Zaccaria, Vittorio 124, 135 Zambotti, Bernardino 127, 135 Zancani, Diego 122, 135 Zanrè, Domenico 49, 70 Zarri, Gabriella 133 Ziegler, Georgina 131, 135 Zuccari, Federico 246 Zuliani, F. 134