Notes

Notes for Introduction, Timothy McCall and Sean Roberts

1. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature; Cope, Secret Sharers in Italian Comedy; Lochrie, Covert Operations; Rasmussen, “Introduction”; Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship; Engel et al., Das Geheimnis; Park, Secrets of Women; Biagioli, Galileo’s Instruments of Credit; Kavey, Books of Secrets; Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy; Long and Rankin, Secrets and Knowledge.

2. Petrarca, The Secret, 47. See also Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 25–28. For further on the intimacy between reader and author activated by secrecy, see Campbell, Commonwealth of Nature, 21–59.

3. See, for example, Sedgwick, Epistemology of the Closet; Lochrie, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

4. Art history’s tradition of probing the Melencolia I for its secrets may be traced to Panofsky, Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer. Michael Camille characterized the engraving as “almost a paradigm of the problem of meaning itself”; Camille, “Walter Benjamin and Dürer’s Melencolia I,” 59.

5. Bok, Secrets. See also de Luca, “Notion of Secretum.”

6. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 93.

7. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature. Additionally, see Eamon, Professor of Secrets.

8. Kavey, Books of Secrets.

9. Johnson, Cornucopiae or divers secrets.

10. Massumi, “Everywhere You Want to Be,” 27; Grosz, Architecture from the Outside, 65.

11. Welch, “Painting as Performance,” 22. Additionally, for the room and for secrets, see Signorini, Opus hoc tenue; Arasse, “Il programma politico,” 49; Starn, “Places of the Image.”

12. Welch, “Painting as Performance,” 22.

13. Welch, “Galeazzo Maria Sforza,” 361.

14. For these secretaries and connections with secrecy in early modern Italy, see Leverotti, “‘Diligentia, obedientia, fides, taciturnitas’”; Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, and specifically Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 127, for the etymological association with secret keeping.

15. Other suggestions for this man’s identity have included Ludovico Gonzaga’s brother Alessandro, as well as Raimondo de’ Lupi di Soragna; Signorini, Opus hoc tenue, 178, 367–70n.

16. For Rubino, a beast unlikely to reveal any secrets, see Signorini, “Dog Named Rubino”; Signorini, Opus hoc tenue, 254–65; Calzona, “L’abito alla corte dei Gonzaga,” 227–31.

17. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 84: “segare 4 bussette in 4 ussi in le camere del N.S. perche le gatte ge possono andare.”

18. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 93.

19. See Valesio, Novantiqua, 16–17.

20. de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 97. For early modern rhetorics, moreover, see Levy, Propaganda and the Jesuit Baroque, 42–71.

21. Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood, esp. 98–101.

22. Galis, “Concealed Wisdom.”

23. Cortesi, De Cardinalatu, II.2: “Eodemque modo in hoc genere aenigmatum apologorumque descriptio probatur qua ingenium interpretando acuitur fitque mens litterata descriptione eruditior.” See, additionally, Weil-Garris and d’Amico, “Renaissance Cardinal’s Ideal Palace,” 97. The authors want to thank the anonymous reviewers for this and other references.

24. de Certeau, Mystic Fable, 98.

25. Raby, “Sultan of Paradox,” 4; Raby, “East and West”; Brotton, Trading Territories, 92, 102–3. For a reevaluation of the complicated circumstances of Matteo’s aborted diplomatic mission see McCall and Roberts, “Art and the Material Culture of Diplomacy.”

26. On Mehmed’s interest in European maps, see Babinger, “Italian Map of the Balkans”; Raby, “East and West,” 305–6; Casale, Ottoman Age of Exploration, 20–21.

27. de Certeau, Mystic Fable, 97.

28. Florio, Worlde of Wordes.

29. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature, esp. 38–90.

30. Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning, 14–15; Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy, esp. 106–58. See also de Vivo, Information and Communication in Venice, esp. 40–46.

31. Hyland, Disguise on the Early Modern English Stage, 15–16.

32. Cope, Secret Sharers in Italian Comedy, esp. 1–16, 185–90.

33. Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, act V, scene 1, line 218.

34. Boccaccio and Petrarca, Griselda. For these frescoes now in the Museo d’Arti Applicate of the Castello Sforzesco in Milan, and for other early modern visual representations of the tale, see Baskins, “Griselda, or the Renaissance Bride Stripped Bare”; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 272–306.

35. For an insightful consideration of what can and cannot be revealed by a comparable fictive letter in Andrea Mantegna’s Camera Picta, see Starn, “Places of the Image.” For a rather different example of the rhetorical ways in which conspicuous envelopes both conceal and reveal tantalizing secrets, see Meyer, Outlaw Representation, 3–5.

36. Alberti, On Painting, 77–78; Alberti, Della pittura, 75: “Tum placet in historia adesse quempiam qui earum quae gerantur rerum spectators admoneat, aut manu ad visendum advocet, aut quasi id negotium secretum esse velit, vultu ne eo profiscare truci et torvis oculis minitetur, aut periculum remve aliquam illic admirandam demonstret, aut ut una adrideas aut ut simul deplores suis te gestibus invitet. Denique et quae illi cum spectantibus et quae inter se picti exequentur, omnia ad agendam et docendam historiam congruent necesse est.”

37. Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators, 134; Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy, 71–73.

38. For Leonardo’s proposed treatise on painting, see Kemp, Leonardo on Painting, 150.

39. Safarik, Fetti, 296–99; Safarik, Domenico Fetti, 1588/89–1623, 28–30; Waldman, “Domenico Fetti’s Philosophers”; Seydl, “Domenico Fetti: Portrait of a Man with a Sheet of Music,” 217; Roberts, “Silence and Secrets.”

40. DeGrazia Bohlin, Prints and Related Drawings, 298 no. 184. For this image, see also the essay by Patricia Simons in the present volume.

41. For more on this gesture, see de Luca, “Notion of Secretum”; Mancini, La lingua degli dei.

42. This sort of conspicuous unveiling “offers a critique or parody of a shaming culture by seeming to cover, yet inviting voyeuristic focus and tactile fantasies”; Simons, “Anatomical Secrets,” 327.

43. Lochrie, Covert Operations, esp. 93–134. See, additionally, Rasmussen, “Introduction,” and the entirety of that special issue of the Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies.

44. Park, Secrets of Women.

45. Bellincioni, Le Rime, 1:51: “Certi savj e gagliardi con parole / Che non sanno e segreti de’ signori / Giudian come il cieco de’ colori / A dir: Faccian così; così si vole.”

46. Johnson, Cornucopiae or divers secrets.

47. Usefully, see Stewart, “Early Modern Closet Discovered”; Campbell, Cosmè Tura of Ferrara, 29–62; Rambuss, Closet Devotions; Campbell, “Giorgione’s Tempest, Studiolo Culture, and the Renaissance Lucretius”; Campbell, Cabinet of Eros.

48. Fumerton, Cultural Aesthetics, esp. 67–76; Stewart, “Early Modern Closet Discovered,” 168; Crane, “Illicit Privacy and Outdoor Spaces,” 5.

49. Habermas, Structural Transformation; Chittolini, “The ‘Private,’ the ‘Public,’ the State.”

50. For the early modern interplay between public and private and for valuable critiques of scholars’ overdetermined reliance on the dichotomy, see Baskins, “(In)famous Men,” 109; Welch, “Public Magnificence and Private Display”; Randolph, Engaging Symbols, 8–12; Wilson and Yachnin, “Introduction”; Crane, “Illicit Privacy and Outdoor Spaces.”

51. For art history’s engagement with excavating hidden meaning from visual culture, see especially Warburg, Renewal of Pagan Antiquity; Panofsky, Studies in Iconology.

52. One recent and extensive treatment of the work is framed as “an attempt to discover what lies behind Hans Holbein’s most famous and most enigmatic painting”: North, Ambassadors’ Secret, xvii. See also Kenaan, “The ‘Unusual Character’ of Holbein’s Ambassadors.” For the extensive bibliography on Holbein’s painting, see Foister, Holbein and England. The classic study of the interpretive possibilities of Holbein’s anamorphosis is Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning, 17–26.

53. Only recently have the workings of such anamorphic displays been subject to structural analysis: Massey, Picturing Space, Displacing Bodies, esp. 37–70.

54. Bouleau, Painter’s Secret Geometry; Elkins, Poetics of Perspective; Arasse, On n’y voit rien, esp. chapter 2, “Le regard de l’escargot.”

55. Campbell, Cabinet of Eros, 134.

56. Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship. See, additionally, Wheeler, Renaissance Secrets.

57. Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning, 1–9.

58. See, for instance, Fumerton, Cultural Aesthetics; Stewart, “Early Modern Closet Discovered”; Rambuss, Closet Devotions; Jager, Book of the Heart.

59. Rasmussen, “Introduction,” 4.

Notes for Chapter 1, Patricia Simons

1. Saxl, “Veritas Filia Temporis”; Panofsky, “Father Time” (first published in 1939, adapting work published in 1923).

2. Hence, “to deny a Renaissance picture of a nude woman her mythological garb is indeed to turn her out into the streets,” according to Rosand, “Venereal Hermeneutics,” 273; repeated in Rosand, “So-and-So Reclining on Her Couch,” 110 (1997 reprint, p. 50).

3. Berenson, Aesthetics and History, 86 (finished in 1941); Clark, Nude (first published in 1956).

4. Clark, Nude, 314.

5. For a useful recent study of Roman prostitutes and courtesans, see Storey, Carnal Commerce. A straightforward similarity between the private, illicit, hidden, furtive, secret, shameful, and erotic was assumed in the foreword and certain essays and entries in Bayer, Art and Love. In contrast to the romantic, personalized, and modern notion of secretive mistresses and jealous wives (for example, Musacchio, “Wives, Lovers, and Art,” and her entry on Bianca Cappello’s portrait with reverse, in Bayer, Art and Love, 29–41, 272–74), see McCall, “Visual Imagery and Historical Invisibility.”

6. Derrida, “Purveyor of Truth,” 34; for an alternative translation, see Derrida, Postcard, 415.

7. For an illuminating focus on one painter, see Hills, “Titian’s Veils.”

8. The 1483 inventory of the Sienese physician Maestro Bartolo di Tura listed “uno camiciotto da bagno”; Herald, Renaissance Dress, 248. It was instead bathing barbarians (Northerners) who hid their genitals with “brache” (breeches) according to Luigini, Il libro della bella donna, 254 (1554). On marital decorum, see Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 61, 103, 165n56; McNeill and Garner, Medieval Handbooks of Penance, 211, 336; Viglione, “Giovanni Dominici,” 120–21 (the Regola del governo di cura familiare of ca. 1405); Barbaro, “On Wifely Duties,” 213.

9. Lightbown, Botticelli, 2:120–22, nos. C10–12; Sframeli, Myth of Venus, 70–71, no. 2 (Lorenzo di Credi’s panel in the Uffizi); Negro and Roio, Lorenzo Costa, 124–25, 130–31, nos. 54, 61.

10. Klaniczay, “‘Bonfires of the Vanities,’” 34–36 and nn20–21, 26.

11. Examples include Antonello da Messina’s Virgin and Child (ca. 1475) and Raphael’s Niccolini-Cowper Madonna (1508), each in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. For erotic embraces between Virgin and Child, see Steinberg, Sexuality of Christ, 110–18 and passim.

12. Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch 25 (Commentary), 276–79. For the reidentification of the artist, see Boorsch, “Mantegna and His Printmakers,” 57–61.

13. Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch 25 (Commentary), 279–81 (Hind, V, p. 67 no. 16). Studies of the Titianesque trio (see below) often refer to the influence of a print by Zoan Andrea, but they seem to mean the sheet in the Ambrosiana, rather than the composition I reproduce as figure 3, and hence scholars now dismiss his relevance. See, for instance, Shearman, Early Italian Pictures, 70. As far as I know, the print in the Louvre has not previously been brought to bear on the Venetian paintings.

14. Boorsch and Orenstein, The Print in the North, 18. To my knowledge, this engraving has not previously been associated with the later Italian images.

15. For painted copies or variants, especially versions in the Royal Collection and Casa Buonarotti, and a drawing by Van Dyck, see Cust and Cook, “Notes on Pictures in the Royal Collections,” 71–79; Procacci, Casa Buonarroti, 191; Wethey, Paintings of Titian, 214–15, no. X-23; Shearman, Early Italian Pictures, 69–72, no. 65; Joannides, Titian to 1518, 216, 253–54; Whitaker, Clayton, and Loconte, Art of Italy, 191–93.

16. Presumably because it was considered indecorous, the thumb in the Casa Buonarroti version (then probably in the Vendramin collection) was painted over by the time Van Dyck sketched it in pen and ink sometime between 1621 and 1627 (and attributed it to Titian): Jaffé, Devonshire Collection, 123, no. 1119 (115 recto). But the thumb is visible in a copy by Figino (d. 1608): Ciardi, Giovan Ambrogio Figino, 38–39, 45n26, 122, 211; Shearman, Early Italian Pictures, 71. For its restoration, see the reproduction in Ragionieri, Casa Buonarroti, 25–26.

17. See the classic study of the type, Stewart, Unequal Lovers; and Silver, Paintings of Quinten Massys, 143–145, 223–224, no. 35.

18. The first recorded attempt to fix the story may have been Carlo Ridolfi’s description in 1648 of what could be this work, listing amongst Titian’s oeuvre a half-length “Cornelia isvenuta in braccio à Pompeo”: Le maraviglie dell’arte, ed. von Hadeln, 1:170 (first published in 1914). That title, Cornelia Fainting in the Arms of Pompey, proposed for the surviving painting by von Hadeln, has been revived by Joannides, Titian to 1518, 253, although the subject is too recondite and different in its details, including the absence of a meaningful third figure, to match the tone and scene plausibly. A search through the work of poets like Bembo and Sannazzaro may prove fruitful, though I suspect the most likely allusion is to romances and novelle.

19. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, History of Painting in North Italy, 149; elaborated in Borinski, “Novellenbilde.” Shearman, Early Italian Pictures, 72, thought inspiration from Bandello was “probably nearer the truth” than other suggestions. Most of Bandello’s stories were first published as a collection in 1554, including his version of Romeo and Juliet, which is sometimes connected with the painting. Objections to the association on the grounds of the late date have overlooked two crucial facts: first, many tales had earlier iterations (for example, Shakespeare’s plot first began to take shape in Masuccio Salernitano’s Novellino of 1476), and second, some of Bandello’s stories circulated before their printing, as was the case with his version of the Châtelaine of Vergi.

20. Bandello, Quarta parte de la novella, 55–74 (tale 6) (first printed in 1573).

21. Linda Wolk-Simon’s entry in Bayer, Art and Love, 210–11, no. 103, also illustrating the 1578 view of a gondola whose lifted cover reveals two lovers. On the type, see Karr Schmidt, “Art, a User’s Guide.”

22. Carlino, Paper Bodies; Simons, “Anatomical Secrets.”

23. For the engraving and a copy in reverse see Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch 25 (Commentary), 281. The quotation is from Agostino Vespucci’s letter from Rome to Machiavelli, dated 16 July 1501, Machiavelli, Opere, vol. 6, Lettere, 61–62.

24. DeGrazia Bohlin, Prints and Related Drawings by the Carracci Family, 298, no. 184.

25. Kurz, “HUIUS NYMPHA LOCI.”

26. Ovid, Metamorphoses, trans. Miller, 1:137 (3.192–93).

27. See Garrard, Artemisia Gentileschi, figs. 4, 28, 38–39, 72, 98, 101, 115, 118, 120–23, 126. I draw this conclusion both from Gentileschi’s oeuvre and its context, and from the way in which she drew attention to her use of female models in several letters to patrons, for which see the translations in ibid., 392, 393, 397, 398. On trade secrets, see the essay by Sean Roberts in this volume.

28. See Nova, “Hangings, Curtains, and Shutters,” and, more generally, for the religious iconography of unveiling and “discovery” see Hills, Renaissance Image Unveiled.

29. Trexler, Public Life, 98, 355.

30. Trexler, Public Life, 98.

31. Leonardo, Leonardo on Painting, 19–20.

32. See Steinberg, Sexuality of Christ, 33–45, 157–61, and passim. For the influential example of Raphael’s Madonna di Loreto of ca. 1511–12, in the Musée Condé, Chantilly, which spurred over one hundred replicas or variants, as well as the workshop Madonna of the Diadem of ca. 1512, see Meyer zur Capellen, Raphael, 2:43, 89–97, 251–54, nos. 51, A9.

33. Lorenzo Lotto, for example, referred to several covers, including an inscribed silk cloth for a Venus but also a “velo” for a Virgin Mary, a cover for St. Andrew, covers for five men’s portraits and one family portrait, and a “timpano” with the “impresa” of Jerome’s lion over a painting of that saint; Lotto, “Libro di spese diverse,” 6, 26, 42, 45, 78, 98, 102, 122, 148, 186, 211, 215, 229, 233; Dülberg, Privatporträts, 33, 37–39, 45–47, 281–82 nos. 288–94. For domestic religious objects see Cooper, “Devotion,” 192.

34. Spallanzani and Gaeta Bertelà, Inventario, 27, 53, 72, 107, 133. For saints on the sportelli flanking a standard fifteenth-century domestic painting, of an Annunciation, see Dülberg, Privatporträts, pl. 701.

35. Dülberg, Privatporträts, 45–58 and passim; Penny, Sixteenth Century Italian Paintings, vol. 1, Paintings from Bergamo, Brescia, and Cremona, 99–101.

36. Wolk-Simon, “Rapture,” 45. This author several times assumes that “mistress portraits . . . were often covered by shutters or curtains” and that voyeuristic unveiling was a key thrill for male (only) observers (185, and see similar comments about “concealment . . . of forbidden, carnal love” scattered throughout, for instance on 211, 219, 226). On the shutters, anachronistically deemed “surely another earmark of a rather private picture,” see Brown and Oberhuber, “Monna Vanna and Fornarina,” 48, 78–79n144.

37. Jones, “Great Renaissance art cover-up”: “apparently a cover for a portrait of a woman—but was she a mistress, a courtesan? What made her portrait illicit?” For other possible portrait covers by Titian and his school, but without mention of the roundel, see Dülberg, Privatporträts, 51–56, 241, 280–81, 295–96, nos. 192, 287, 335–38. On Titian’s roundel, see Whistler, “Titian’s Triumph of Love”; Whistler, “Uncovering Beauty.”

38. Doni, Marmi, pt. III, 40: “un Leone con un Cupido sopra . . . l’Amore doma ogni gran ferocità e terribilità di persone.” An ancient bronze of Cupid trampling on a lion was inventoried in the Vendramin collection in 1567–69; Anderson, “Further Inventory,” 641; Dülberg, Privatporträts, 37–38, 282, no. 297.

39. Syson and Gordon, Pisanello, 123.

40. On Speroni’s portrait and its cover, see Dülberg, Privatporträts, 51–52, 241, no. 192. Pace Whistler, “Uncovering Beauty,” 220, 221, the Ashmolean lion appears to me neither “angry” nor “enraged,” for it has tears in its eyes, frowns, and pants or roars in despair at its loss of command.

41. For portrayals of women that are neither strict portraits nor entirely generic, see Simons, “Portraiture, Portrayal, and Idealization.”

42. Anderson, “Further Inventory,” 648.

43. A conclusion that agrees with the sitter’s identification suggested in Whistler, “Uncovering Beauty.”

44. For the biographical details see Anderson, “Further Inventory,” 641; Anderson, Giorgione, 162, 164–65. He died in 1552.

45. For instance, one of Titian’s assistants decorated a timpano: Penny, Sixteenth Century Italian Paintings, vol. 1, Paintings from Bergamo, Brescia, and Cremona, 100, and see also 101; and Dülberg, Privatporträts, 49, 56 on the execution of covers. Wooden covers painted by Lorenzo Lotto and Pontormo are among the exceptions, which are also rare because they are documented and have survived: Dülberg, Privatporträts, 238–39, 241, 293, nos. 187, 191, 329.

46. For a report on its recent cleaning, with commentaries, see Mochi Onori, Raffaello. Bibliography and a succinct overview are available in Meyer zur Capellen, Raphael, 3:144–49 no. 78.

47. Lavin, Barberini Documents and Inventories, 421 nos. 2, 6; see other descriptions, 170 no. 311 (1644), 301 no. 199 (1671), 347 no. 275 (1672), 380 no. 423 (after 1672), 399 no. 109, and 408 no. 329 (1686). Titian’s larger painting was in an ornamented, gilded frame but without a cover (264 no. 6, 390 no. 682, 399 no. 125).

48. Félibien, Entretiens 4:50–52; Blunt, Paintings of Nicolas Poussin, 60–61 no. 88.

49. Aretino, Lettere, 433–34 no. 441 (to Don Diego Mendozza, 15 August 1542). Wolk-Simon, “Rapture,” 45, and 185, mistakes “invoglio” for a curtain. Mendozza’s presentation of the encased portrait follows elite habits. For a velvet pouch containing the portrait diptych of the King of Naples, René of Anjou, and his second wife, Jeanne de Laval (1476), see Dülberg, Privatporträts, 230, no. 174, pl. 114.

50. See Filipczak, Picturing Art in Antwerp, figs. 2, 29, 34, 37, 65–66; Honig, Painting and the Market in Early Modern Antwerp, fig. 91, pls. 21–22; Loughman and Montias, Public and Private Spaces, 119–24.

51. For the painting in the National Gallery of Ireland, see Sutton, Love Letters, 129, 132–33, no. 19. The seascape is usually read only in terms of the letter reader’s inner state.

52. Augustine, City of God, 649, 651.

53. Inferno 9.63: “la dottrina che s’asconde / sotto il velame de li versi strani.”

54. Pardo, “Savoldo’s Magdalene,” 85.

55. Saslow, Poetry of Michelangelo, 238, 305, 464, with other examples on 317, 348, 371, 377, 389.

56. Pardo, “Savoldo’s Magdalene,” 86.

57. Lotto, Il ‘Libro di spese,’ 286.

58. Pardo, “Veiling the Venus of Urbino,” 112–19.

59. Cennini, Craftsman’s Handbook, 70 (ca. 1400). See also Vasari, Vite, 1:183, on first covering panels with linen.

60. del Serra, “Conversation on Painting Techniques,” 8.

61. Alberti, On Painting, 75.

62. For an overview of the drawings, see Ames-Lewis, Draftsman Raphael, 42, 50–59; also Meyer zur Capellen, Raphael, 1:88–89, 233–41, and 3:33, 220.

63. Aristotle, Generation of Animals, trans. Peck, 225 (743b20); Benedetti, Anatomice, 86, 172 (1.2, 2.23). The analogy between paint, cloth, and flesh was often reiterated in art theory, for instance, in Pino, Dialogo di Pittura, 124 (first published 1548); Vasari, Vite, 1:180; Roskill, Dolce’s ‘Aretino,’ 142, 174, 190.

64. Alberti, On Painting, 81; discussed, in relation to Timanthes’s veiling of the face of a grieving man, by Pardo, “Savoldo’s Magdalene,” 87–89 (which also quotes a similar passage of 1582 by Cardinal Paleotti).

65. Vasari, Vite, 4:8; trans. in Lives, trans. de Vere, 772 (proemio to pt. 3).

66. Castiglione, Book of the Courtier, 32 (1.26) (first published in 1528).

67. Roskill, Dolce’s ‘Aretino,’ 91 (“è arte a nasconder l’arte”); Ovid, Metamorphoses, 10.252 (“ars adeo latet arte sua,” so does his art conceal his art).

68. Cropper, Pontormo: Portrait of a Halberdier.

69. Cennini, Craftsman’s Handbook, 1–2.

70. Prager and Scaglia, Brunelleschi, 118, 143–44.

71. Pino, Dialogo di Pittura, 109.

Notes for Chapter 2, William Eamon

1. The relevant documents are in ASV, Provveditori alla Sanità, Reg. 734, c. 177v (1580) and Reg. 735, c. 135v (1583). Montinaro, San Paolo dei serpenti, 69–70.

2. On the regulation of medicine in sixteenth-century Venice, see Vanzan Marchini, I mali e I rimedi.

3. Katritzky, “Marketing Medicine.”

4. Bacon, Opus Majus, 1:11–12.

5. Bacon, Secretum secretorum, 176–77. In addition, see Manzaloui, “Pseudo-Aristotelian Kitab Sirr al-Asrar.”

6. On the scholarly reception of the Secretum, see Williams, Secret of Secrets.

7. Eamon, Science Secrets, chap. 2. On esotericism, see Bagley, “On the Practice of Esotericism.”

8. On curiosity in the Middle Ages, see Blumenberg, Legitimacy of the Modern Age, 269–360.

9. Economou, Goddess Natura.

10. Ginzburg, “High and Low.”

11. Eamon, “Secrets of Nature.”

12. Grundmann, “Litteratus—illiteratus”; Stock, Implications of Literacy, 27.

13. Schmitt, “Francesco Storella.”

14. On this work, see Eamon, Science and Secrets, chap. 4.

15. Garzoni, La piazza universale, 324. On this work, see Martin, “Imaginary Piazza.”

16. Piemontese, Secretes, preface (spelling modernized).

17. Eamon, Science and Secrets, 143.

18. Ruscelli, Secreti nuovi, fol. 1r. See Eamon and Paheau, “Accademia Segreta.”

19. On Fioravanti, see Eamon, Professor of Secrets.

20. Garzoni, L’Hospidale, 246.

21. The most authoritative study of Italian charlatans is Gentilcore, Medical Charlatanism. On charlatans and commedia dell’arte, see Lea, Italian Popular Comedy, esp. 17–128; Katritsky, “Was commedia dell’arte performed by mountebanks?”; Henke, “Italian Mountebank.”

22. Henke, Performance and Literature.

23. Ottonelli, Della Cristiana, 489–90.

24. Coryat, Crudities, 1:410–11 (spelling and punctuation modernized).

25. Moryson, Itinerary, 424–25 (spelling and punctuation modernized).

26. For a discussion of these pamphlets, see Eamon, Science and Secrets, chap. 7.

27. A census of the pamphlets is contained in Eamon, Science and Secrets, appendix.

28. Complete bibliographical information may be found in Eamon, Science and Secrets, appendix, 361–65.

29. Benedetto, I Maravigliosi, et occulti secreti; Americano, Il Vero, e natural fonte.

30. Fontana, Fontana.

31. Tolosano, Gioia preciosa.

32. Fedele, Con il Poco farete assai, 1.

33. Pagliarizzo, Secreti nuovi. Cf. Scatalone, Il vero et pretioso thesoro. On Graziano, see Lea, Italian Popular Comedy, 25–41.

34. Lingo, “Empirics and Charlatans.”

35. Burke, Popular Culture; Ginzburg, Cheese and Worms.

36. Bakhtin, Rabelais.

37. Burke, “Rituals of Healing,” 207–20.

38. The picture, painted in 1656, is now in the Banca Monte dei Paschi in Siena. For further discussion, see Gentilcore, Medical Charlatanism, 28–29.

39. Coryat, Crudities, 1:411–12 (spelling and punctuation modernized).

40. Buhagiar, “St. Paul’s Shipwreck.”

41. Garzoni, Piazza universale, 747. Mario Galasso, one of the professorini di secreti, appears to have been a sanpaolaro. His chapbook, Thesoro de poveri, begins with a section on “The true method you should follow if you want to use St. Paul’s grace . . . for the benefit of the human body.”

42. See Turchini, Morso.

43. Burke, “Rituals of Healing,” 220. In addition, see Park, “Country Medicine.”

44. On the control of medical practice, see Gentilcore, Medical Charlatanism, 118–51.

45. ASV, Provveditori alla Sanità, Reg. 731 (1563–1573) c. 15v.: “Questo et e quell’oglio philosophico artificiale et latoribus, Il qual descrive Zuanne Mesue et molti lo chiama oglio benedetto, divino et santo, bono alle sottoscritte virtu distilado per me Zuanne Veronese distilattor. . . .[et] sicondo descrive dioscorides . . . a cap.li 251.”

46. Gentilcore, Medical Charlatanism, chap. 4.

47. ASV, Provveditori alla Sanità, Reg. 731, c. 1v, 8v.

48. ASV, Provveditori alla Sanità, Reg. 735, c. 135v: “ch’io con le proprie mani senza pigliarle con ferro alcuno, hò pigliate le vipere, e fatte morire senza alcun detrimento mio, con maraviglia, et stupore di tutti.”

49. ASV, Provveditori alla Sanità, Reg. 735, c. 135v: “[F]eci anco un esperienza ecce[le]ntissima inanzi li predetti Cl[arissi]mi S[igno]ri Proveditori faccendomi in presentia loro morsicar da una vippera velenosa, dove esse viddero gonfiarmi, et con il mio rimedio subito risanarmi il tutto.”

50. Katritzky, “Marketing Medicine,” 127.

51. Similarly, Giovanni Battista Zapata reported that the poor people had simple remedies they learned from experience, for which they spent only a few pennies, yet received the same medicinal benefits as rich men who spent hundreds of ducats for their exotic cures. Zapata, Li Maravigliosi secreti, 1–2.

52. Idea medicinae philosophicae, quoted in Debus, English Paracelsians, 20.

53. Eamon, “Physicians and Reform.”

54. To prevent the counterfeiting of Maltese earth, some physicians recommended that the Order of Malta certify the authenticity of the earth with a seal.

55. Joubert, Popular Errors, 69 (italics mine).

56. Mercurio, Errori populari. Like Joubert, Mercurio was especially alarmed about errors committed by women healers and midwives, “because most errors are committed by women, who intrude too much in medical matters,” 1. In addition, see Gentilcore, “Was there a ‘Popular Medicine’?”

57. Mercurio, Errori populari, 265–68.

58. Mercurio, Errori populari, 175.

59. Ibid., 267.

60. Primrose, Popular Errours, 18.

61. Ibid., 42–43.

62. Ibid., 44–46.

63. Golinski, “Noble Spectacle.”

64. Evelyn, Diary, 4:253.

65. Shadwell, Virtuoso.

66. On the development of experimental conventions, see Shapin and Schaffer, Leviathan and the Air-Pump.

67. Ibid., 336.

68. Hunter and Wood, “Toward Solomon’s House,” 81.

Notes for Chapter 3, Timothy McCall

1. The coretto (Castello Sforzesco, Museo d’Arti Applicate, Inv. Mobili 926) measures 360 cm x 163 cm x 164 cm. Some scholars have wondered if the coretto might be a pastiche: Tinti, Il mobilio fiorentino, 71; Colle and Zanuso, Museo d’Arti Applicate, 470. Recent studies have argued persuasively that the woodwork and metal fastenings date to the fifteenth century, and in the late nineteenth century Corrado Ricci thought even the polychrome to be original: Ricci, “Il Castello di Torchiara: Cappella di S. Nicomede,” 24; Bagatin, Le pitture lignee, 122; Salsi, Il mobile italiano, 34. Similarly sophisticated spaces and contraptions in Ferrara and for Torrechiara’s studiolo (discussed below) provide further evidence of a local, creative team of woodworkers and additional grounds to consider the coretto genuine. Though Colle and Zanuso (Museo d’Arti Applicate, 467) asserted that the coretto was first published by Corrado Ricci in the 1890s, a previous reference dates from the 1830s and would seem early for the art market for reconstituted furnishings, which, as Ellen Callmann has shown, first flourished in the late nineteenth century, and primarily in Florence: Molossi, Vocabolario topografico, 550–51; Callmann, “William Blundell Spence.” The possibility remains, however, that the coretto has been reconfigured or reconstructed (potentially using components of the studiolo’s portoni, discussed below), or that it has been repainted or heavily restored.

2. Arduino da Baiso (d. 1454) trained the Canozzi brothers and headed the workshop responsible for the Este studioli. For these workshops, see Quintavalle, Cristoforo da Lendinara; Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara, passim; Bagatin, Le pitture lignee; Toffanello, Le Arti a Ferrara, 337–41, 346–48. For the most thorough discussion of the coretto, see Colle and Zanuso, Museo d’Arti Applicate, 467–71. Additionally, and for wide-ranging attributions, see Tinti, Il mobilio fiorentino, 71; Ragghianti Collobi, La casa italiana, 40; Podestà, “La casa italiana,” 174; Terni de Gregory, Vecchi mobili italiani, 54–56; Pignatti, Mobili italiani del rinascimento, 73; Camorali, “Gli arredi della cappella”; Ferrazza, Palazzo Davanzati, 56; Roettgen, Italian Frescoes, 359; Bertelli, King’s Body, 145–47; Bagatin, Le pitture lignee, 122–25; Salsi, Il mobile italiano, 32–34.

3. Smith, Key of Green, 257.

4. For the camera d’oro, see Woods-Marsden, “Pictorial Legitimation”; Roettgen, Italian Frescoes, 358–73; Coerver, “Donna/Dono”; Campbell, “Pier Maria Rossi’s Treasure”; McCall, “Networks of Power.”

5. Ricci claimed that Bianca “era Dea del luogo. Tutto era stato fatto per lei”; Ricci, “Il Castello di Torchiara: Cappella di S. Nicomede,” 24. See also Ricci, “Il Castello di Torchiara: La Sala d’Oro.” The two studies were reprinted together in Ricci, Eroi, Santi, ed Artisti, 65–81.

6. Mulazzani, “La pittura,” 140; Ghirardini, Presente e passato a Torrechiara, 11. For Torrechiara as “nido d’amore,” see Ceruti Burgio, Parma rinascimentale, 51; Mendogni, Torrechiara, 8.

7. “Parrebbe che allora l’amata Bianca sotto le vesti di pellegrina, e tinta il volto siccome mora, venisse a ritrovarlo nel castello di Torchiara”: Molossi, Vocabolario topografico, 550. For the more recent claims, see Quintavalle, “Arte a Torrechiara,” 114; Ciavarella, “Jacopo Caviceo,” 208–9; Holthaus, “La camera d’oro,” 10–11.

8. For these arguments, see McCall, “Networks of Power,” 120–36. See, additionally, Jean Campbell’s sophisticated discussion of rhetorics of address and (un)covering in the camera d’oro and her more recent investigations of secrecy: Campbell, “Pier Maria Rossi’s Treasure”; Campbell, Commonwealth of Nature, 21–59.

9. Tinti, Il mobilio fiorentino, 71; Pignatti, Mobili italiani del rinascimento, 73; Camorali, “Gli arredi della cappella,” 54; Battisti, Cicli pittorici, storie profane, 78; Cortesi, I castelli dell’Emilia Romagna, 157.

10. Tylney, “An Oratory from Italy”; Ricci, “Il Castello di Torchiara: Cappella di S. Nicomede,” 24.

11. Ricci, “Il Castello di Torchiara: Cappella di S. Nicomede,” 24; Ragghianti Collobi, La casa italiana, 40; Podestà, “La casa italiana,” 174.

12. Balestri, Il colore di Milano, 284. Within a few years of the letter, the superintendent Ettore Modigliani would be transferred to L’Aquila and shortly thereafter lose his post altogether as Mussolini’s anti-Jewish laws were intensified; Haskell, “Botticelli, Fascism and Burlington House,” 471. For the eventual sale of the coretto and the castle’s other furnishings, see below note 45.

13. Bagatin, Le pitture lignee, 125; Salsi, Il mobile italiano, 32.

14. Bagatin, Le pitture lignee, 122–25. Cristoforo da Lendinara was active not far from Torrechiara (in both Modena and Parma) through the 1460s and into the early ’70s; Toffanello, Le Arti a Ferrara, 346.

15. McCall, “Visual Imagery and Historical Invisibility.”

16. Ettlinger, “Visibilis et Invisibilis”; Coerver, “Donna/Dono”; McCall, “‘Traffic in Mistresses.’”

17. Habermas, Structural Transformation. See now Randolph, Engaging Symbols, 8–12; Wilson and Yachnin, “Introduction”; Crane, “Illicit Privacy and Outdoor Spaces.”

18. Chittolini, “The ‘Private,’ the ‘Public,’ the State.”

19. Lefebvre, Production of Space.

20. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 61, 96.

21. Massumi, “Everywhere You Want to Be,” 27; Grosz, Architecture from the Outside, 65.

22. For access and intimacy structured through the revelation of English portrait miniatures, see Fumerton, Cultural Aesthetics, 67–77. Also useful is Michael Warner’s investigation of the interplay between modern public and private discourses; Warner, Publics and Counterpublics.

23. See this volume’s introduction, in addition to Bok, Secrets; Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature; Lochrie, Covert Operations; Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship.

24. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 93.

25. Kent, “Palaces, Politics and Society”; Welch, Art and Authority, 203–20; Preyer, “Planning for Visitors.”

26. Welch, “Painting as Performance,” 22.

27. Caviceo, Vita Petrimariae de Rubeis, 4v. For the lost marble statue, see McCall, “Networks of Power,” 88–89.

28. The chapel is a square room surmounted by a tall, vaulted ceiling; the frescoes of the ceiling and upper walls of the chapel date to the seventeenth century, after the chapel had been divided into two floors. This later ceiling has since been removed, and today’s visitor experiences the chapel’s original height; di Giovanni Madruzza, “L’architettura,” 107.

29. Affò, Storia, 1:188; Pettorelli, “La chiesa di San Nicomede.” For Petronilla, see Steinberg, “Guercino’s Saint Petronilla.”

30. Cronica gestorum, 114; Pezzana, Storia, 4:300. One sixteenth-century source claimed that Antonia Torelli was buried in San Nicomede; Sansovino, Della origine. Rossi’s will of January 1464 (Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, Fondo Casapini, Cass. 28, fasc. 12, cart. 6) stipulated that Bianca and her son Ottaviano would be buried in the chapel, though scholars disagree about who was eventually buried there.

31. Pelicelli and Testi, Memorie intorno all’oratorio, 6–9. For the legal concept of ius patronatus, see Burke, Changing Patrons, 101–38.

32. Additionally, the chapel of Santa Caterina, located above the passage leading from the rivellino, probably served Torrechiara’s castellan and soldiers. For Santa Caterina and San Lorenzo, see McCall, “Networks of Power,” 97–99. For the Badia (which was built in the early 1470s and likely after the coretto was in place), see Galletti, “Erezione dell’abbazia”; Tonelli and Zilocchi, L’Abbazia Benedettina.

33. The recent sale of the furnishings spurred the scholars who argued that the sale by the private owners of the castle had been illegal since the chapel remained under the jurisdiction of Parma’s bishop.

34. Pelicelli and Testi, Memorie intorno all’oratorio, 9; Galletti, “Chiesa e religione,” 190.

35. Pelicelli and Testi, Memorie intorno all’oratorio, 6–9, 22–26.

36. For the dispute over Parma’s episcopal palace, see Pezzana, Storia, 2:643; 3:239; Allodi, Serie cronologica dei vescovi, 1:660, 768–70. For the structure more generally, see Marina, Italian Piazza Transformed, 26, 41–44, 49. For Rossi’s discord with Parma’s bishops, see McCall, “Networks of Power,” 18, 231–33.

37. Pezzana, Storia, 2:643; 3:83, 90; Allodi, Serie cronologica dei vescovi, 1:702–67; Battioni, “La diocesi parmense,” 150.

38. For the bishop’s threats, see Gentile, Terra e poteri, 118–19. The importance to the Rossi family of the decision in 1452 by the jurist Martino Garati da Lodi in Pier Maria’s favor is attested to by its many copies—both contemporary manuscript documents and later printed sheets with woodcut images of warriors on horseback—surviving today in Parma’s archives; Archivio di Stato di Parma, Feudi e comunità, Rossi, 206.

39. The altarpiece is now in the Castello Sforzesco’s Pinacoteca; Tanzi, “Benedetto Bembo.” For a photograph in situ, see Capelli, “Vicende storiche e architettoniche,” 88. For the frame, see Colle and Zanuso, Museo d’Arti Applicate, 414.

40. The studiolo of Torrechiara contained a similar image. For devotion to the imago pietatis and the fresco at Sant’Ilario Baganza, see Zanichelli, I conti e il minio, 68; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 77–79.

41. These terms can be translated, more or less, as tribune, small tribune, kneeler, kiosk, sentry-box, and cabin. For “tribuna,” see Camorali, “Gli arredi della cappella.” For “tribunetta,” see Roettgen, Italian Frescoes, 359. For “bussola,” see Ragghianti Collobi, La casa italiana, 44. For “inginocchiatoio,” see Molossi, Vocabolario topografico, 550–51. For “cabina privata,” see Terni de Gregory, Vecchi mobili italiani, 54. For “garitta,” see Balestri, Il colore di Milano, 357.

42. Like the coretto, the Urbino alcove seems to have been set in place so that the room’s wall served as one of the structure’s walls; dal Poggetto, La Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, 60–61; Binaghi, “I Mobili della Corte Milanese,” 167. Sergio Bertelli suggested that the coretto might be a holdover from a category of imperial Byzantine tribune (prokypsis), such as that represented on Theodosius’s base for the obelisk of Thutmosis III in the Hippodrome of Constantinople; Bertelli, King’s Body, 145–47. The differences between the uses and locations of the respective structures are immense, however.

43. The amount of intarsia work that has been lost over time, particularly in studioli, and even the fact that the Urbino alcove also has been called recently “esempio assolutamente unico nel suo genere” (dal Poggetto, La Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, 60), might suggest caution with definitive declarations regarding any structure’s uniqueness.

44. Althöfer, Fälschung und Forschung, 86–87; Colle, “Un coretto parmense.”

45. Objects produced for the exhibition were inspired by the coretto: Romagnoli, “Romanticismo, medievalismo, e castelli rossiani,” 188. For the sale of the coretto, polyptych, and the chapel’s cassapanca, see Pelicelli and Testi, Memorie intorno all’oratorio, 27–29, 36; Camorali, “Gli arredi della cappella”; Ciavarella, “L’espropriazione del castello di Torrechiara”; Ferrazza, Palazzo Davanzati, 114, 139; Colle and Zanuso, Museo d’Arti Applicate, 468–70. I will explore these issues in greater depth in a forthcoming article investigating Parma’s entry in the exhibition (“The New Nation’s Neo Renaissance: The camera d’oro of the Roman Exhibition of 1911 and the Sale of Torrechiara’s Quattrocento Furnishings”). See, additionally, Romagnoli, “Romanticismo, medievalismo, e castelli rossiani.”

46. For the coretto in London considered Renaissance, see Tylney, “Oratory from Italy”; Thorpe, “Oratory in Intarsia”; Terni de Gregory, Vecchi mobili italiani, 54; Pignatti, Mobili italiani del rinascimento, 73; Battisti, Cicli pittorici, storie profane, 78.

47. Commissioned by the Brasi brothers—prominent antiquarians in Parma with a shop in Piazza Duomo—the coretto was executed by Minozzi in 1912 and sold the following year to Lady Aberconway; it then passed to the London antiquarians Crowther and Son and from there to the Victoria and Albert Museum: Baker, “Noble Works or Base Deceptions?,” 385; Colle, “Un coretto parmense.”

48. For this structure and other potentially mobile Milanese sale delle asse (antecedents to Leonardo da Vinci’s fixed sala for Ludovico Sforza and Beatrice d’Este), see Binaghi, “I Mobili della Corte Milanese,” 166–67. For contemporary intarsiated structures for Milan’s Duomo, see Albertario, “Marmo, legno e terracotta,” 27–28.

49. See above note 2 for the Canozzi; they are identified thus in a Ferrarese document of 1454 regarding work in the studiolo of Belfiore and published in Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara, 2:431.

50. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 373.

51. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 90: “Gerardo Costa. Item, per avere dà de verde a una busolla nova in la Gisiolla del N. S. ala Fontana, donde sta a oldire messa sua Ex.” It is not entirely clear if this suggests that Ercole heard the mass within the bussola or merely within this particular chapel, though the former seems more likely.

52. For further on bussole, see Haines, “Sacrestia delle Messe,” 220–21; Frugoni, Medioevo sul naso, 142.

53. Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 161.

54. Scudieri and Ciliberto, “Un’ipotesi per il verde”; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 69–70; Smith, Key of Green.

55. For Ercole’s Herculean imagery, see Ferrari, “La corte degli dei”; Matarrese, “Il mito di Ercole a Ferrara.”

56. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 92–94.

57. Affò, “Descrizione della celebre stanza di Torchiara”; Holthaus, “La camera d’oro”; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 64–85. For the studiolo in Renaissance Italy more generally, see Liebenwein, Studiolo; Campbell, Cabinet of Eros.

58. Ireneo Affò in the late eighteenth century described “dipinto a colori al naturale in picciolo quadretto a fresco un Ecce Homo”; Affò, “Descrizione della celebre stanza di Torchiara,” 61.

59. Milan, Archivio di Stato, Autografi 102, Pittori S-Z, Francesco Tacconi, 7 November, 1475. I develop this argument in greater detail in a forthcoming article on Torrechiara’s “studiolo oratorio.”

60. For toppi, see Haines, “Sacrestia delle Messe,” 56, 86–87.

61. For Ferrara Cathedral: “Item die 8 mensis octobris expendi in media uncia azuri causa videndi experientiam quadrorum armariorum”; Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara, 1:233. For Arduino’s ornate and brilliantly colored blue and gold wooden canopies commissioned by Palla Strozzi for the vestry of Santa Trinita in Florence, see Haines, “Sacrestia delle Messe,” 29. For green wood and studioli, see above note 54 and Blanchette, Wilmering, and Baumeister, “Use of Green-Stained Wood.”

62. Legni Sacri e Preziosi, 108–9.

63. The west-facing side displays two panels depicting putti supporting the Rossi rampant lion, an additional shield with this heraldic device without putti, three panels with crowned hearts bearing the inscription “digne et in eternum,” and six with unique geometric designs. The south façade is also comprised of six distinct decorative panels: three crowned hearts and three rampant lions.

64. McCall, “Networks of Power,” 120–36.

65. Maddalena Rossi, tradition holds, ate a portion of Terzi’s heart and fed the rest to dogs; Gentile, “Alla Periferia di uno Stato,” 225; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 129–32. Inscriptions from Pietro Rossi’s tomb are located on the exterior of Sant’Antonio Abate in Parma, though the tomb and lavishly decorated chapel were later destroyed; Mendogni, Sant’Antonio Abate, 26; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 129–32. Ottobuono’s head, moreover, seems to have been displayed at the Rossi castle of Felino for decades; Somaini, “Una storia spezzata,” 126.

66. Similarly, Lorenzo Lotto’s intarsia panels both concealed and revealed (exegetical) meaning and knowledge within the choir of Santa Maria Maggiore in Bergamo; Galis, “Concealed Wisdom.” For veiling and unveiling, see also the essay by Patricia Simons in the present volume.

67. The initials PM, moreover, are carved into the base of one of the vases represented on the upper part of the coretto. For Rossi peregrine traditions and imagery, see Gentile, “Un itinerario devozionale”; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 109–51.

68. The stairway is now enclosed, though it may have functioned as late as the eighteenth century because Ireneo Affò twice referred to this door and stairway: “una picciola scala a chiocciola” and “scaletta a chiocciola”; Affò, “Descrizione della celebre stanza di Torchiara,” fols. 188–90. See also, Quintavalle, I castelli del Parmense, 169; Roettgen, Italian Frescoes, 362. Oratories were placed between a room and narrow staircase in palaces owned by the Medici and Sassetti; Lillie, “Patronage of Villa Chapels and Oratories,” 29.

69. For violent threats against Pier Maria, from his own sons, see McCall, “Pier Maria’s Legacy,” 36–38. For assassinations in fifteenth-century Italy, see Villard, Du Bien Commun au Mal Nécessaire.

70. Haines, Intarsias of the North Sacristy, 51–54; Martines, April Blood, 118.

71. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, MS Smith Lesouëf 22, fol. 285v: Zanichelli, “Tra Devozione e Studio,” 110–18.

72. For a treatise celebrating and indeed publicizing the seignorial piety of one of Rossi’s contemporaries, Ercole d’Este, see Gundersheimer, Art and Life at the Court of Ercole.

73. Particularly useful for me, in wider contexts, have been Stewart, “Early Modern Closet”; and Campbell, Cabinet of Eros.

74. Ettore Modigliani referred to the coretto as a “specie di garitta” (“a type of sentry-box”) in a letter to Corrado Ricci of 7 January 1931; Balestri, Il colore di Milano, 357.

75. Wakefield, Disordered Police State, 12–16.

76. Weil-Garris and D’Amico, “Renaissance Cardinal’s Ideal Palace,” 82–83. For Rossi and Paul II, see Somaini, “Una storia spezzata,” 170–83.

77. Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars, 1:221–23. For the Gonzaga and Suetonius, see Signorini, Opus hoc tenue, 308–13; Campbell, “Mantegna’s Triumph,” 92–95. Much work remains to be done to reconstruct the library of Pier Maria Rossi, though by far the most useful source is Tissoni Benvenuti, “Libri e letterati nelle piccole corti padane.”

78. See, for example, Rubin, Corpus Christi; Manca, Art of Ercole de’ Roberti, 64–72; Moffitt, Painterly Perspective and Piety.

79. Lefebvre, Production of Space; Grosz, Architecture from the Outside, 7; Smith, Key of Green.

80. For a recent interpretation of seignorial surveillance in contemporary Urbino, see Webb, “All is not fun and games.”

Notes for Chapter 4, Maria Ruvoldt

1. For Michelangelo and Cavalieri, see Kirschenbaum, “Reflections on Michelangelo’s Drawings”; Frommel, Michelangelo und Tommaso de’ Cavalieri; Liebert, Michelangelo: A Psychoanalytic Study; and Saslow, Ganymede in the Renaissance, 17–62. Precisely how young Cavalieri was when the two met is a matter of some debate, but he was surely no older than nineteen and quite possibly as young as twelve. For Cavalieri’s birthdate, see Panofsky-Soergel, “Postscriptum to Tommaso Cavalieri.”

2. Vasari, La vita di Michelangelo, 1:118. A letter from Cavalieri demonstrates that he was in possession of the Phaeton, Tityus, and Ganymede compositions in September 1533. See Carteggio, 4:49. The literature on Michelangelo’s “gift” or “presentation drawings” is vast. Wallace, “Studies in Michelangelo’s Finished Drawings,” offers the term “gift drawing” as an alternative to the conventional “presentation drawing” coined by Johannes Wilde. See Popham and Wilde, Italian Drawings, nos. 423–24, 428–31. See also Hirst, Michelangelo and His Drawings, chap. 10, “The Making of Presents”; Joannides, Michelangelo and His Influence; Nagel, “Gifts for Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna”; and Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream.

3. For Michelangelo’s movements between 1532 and 1534, see Wallace, “‘Nothing Else Happening.’” For a thorough analysis of Michelangelo’s political beliefs, see Spini, “Politicità di Michelangelo.”

4. For a summary of the history of the Julius tomb project, see De Tolnay, Michelangelo, vol. 4: The Tomb of Julius II.

5. In a letter to Sebastiano, Michelangelo uses the word “disobbrigarsi” as he searches for a solution to the tomb problem; Carteggio, 3:323. For the language of enslavement and obligation in Michelangelo’s letters, especially as relates to the tomb project, see Parker, Michelangelo and the Art of Letter Writing. For “son venti anni e venti libbre invechiato e diminuito,” see Carteggio, 4:14–15, translation in Ramsden, Letters, 1:195.

6. Michelangelo had won the contract for the façade of San Lorenzo in 1516, but the commission was canceled in 1520 after the untimely deaths of Giuliano de’ Medici Duke of Nemours and Lorenzo de’ Medici Duke of Urbino. From 1520, Michelangelo’s focus at San Lorenzo was the family funerary chapel in the New Sacristy and the Laurentian Library, commissioned in 1520 and 1523, respectively. For Michelangelo’s work at San Lorenzo, see Wallace, Michelangelo at San Lorenzo.

7. For Cecchini as the likely catalyst of the introduction, see Frommel, Michelangelo und Tommaso de’ Cavalieri, 14. Analyzing the admittedly sparse evidence, Frommel concludes that “Everything points to Michelangelo and Cavalieri meeting in the Ridolfi circle”; ibid., 72. In the first surviving letter between Cecchini and Michelangelo, Cecchini signs himself “Vostro minor servitore Pietrantonio, familiar di monsignor reverendissimo de’ Ridolfi”; Carteggio, 3:414. For the alternative theory that Bartolomeo Angelini introduced Michelangelo to Cavalieri, see Ramsden, Letters, 1:298–99. See also Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 76.

8. For Niccolò Ridolfi, see Ridolfi, “La Biblioteca del Cardinale Niccolò Ridolfi”; Starn, Donato Giannotti, 48–56; Byatt, “‘Una suprema magnificenza’”; Costa, Michelangelo alle Corti, 13–60; and Muratore, La biblioteca del cardinale Niccolò Ridolfi.

9. For the complicated familial and political connections linking Ridolfi, Cardinal Salviati, Filippo Strozzi, and the other leading Florentine aristocratic fuorusciti in Rome, see Costa, Michelangelo alle corti, 15–19. For Ridolfi’s political alliances, both pro- and anti-Medicean, see Starn, Donato Giannotti, 48–52; and Costa, Michelangelo alle corti, 13–23.

10. For Donato Giannotti, see Giannotti, Dialogi; Starn, Donato Giannotti; and Costa, Michelangelo alle corti, 61–110. For Ascanio Condivi, see Hirst, “Michelangelo and His First Biographers,” esp. 70–71; and Hirst, “Introduction,” in Condivi, Vita, I–XX, esp. II–V.

11. Carteggio, 4:69. The letter itself is undated, but Frey, Dichtungen, 527, dates it to 1535, long after Michelangelo’s first documented contact with Cavalieri, based on his identification of “quello de’ Peruschi” as Baldassare Peruzzi. Barocchi and Ristori, Carteggio, 4:69, accept Frey’s dating without comment. Frommel instead proposes a date in late 1532/early 1533, reasoning that someone as prominent as Baldassare Peruzzi would not be referred to in this fashion, and observing that Sebastiano had referred to Peruzzi in a letter to Michelangelo of 1520 as “Baldassare.” Frommel, Michelangelo und Tommaso de’Cavalieri, 15 and 113n21.

12. “magnificho meser Tomao”; Carteggio, 4:69.

13. Ibid.

14. See for example Carteggio, 3:157 and 4:142.

15. Carteggio, 4:69.

16. Frommel, Michelangelo und Tommaso de’ Cavalieri, 15–18.

17. Carteggio, 3:445.

18. Varchi describes Cavalieri as an “incomparable beauty” in his discourse to the Accademia Fiorentina on the sonnets in 1547; Varchi, Due Lezzioni, 47. This is a notable instance of the more public reception of the “private” relationship between Michelangelo and Cavalieri, but it is, significantly, some dozen years or more after they first met. For the Cavalieri family and their history in Rome, see Kirkendale, Emilio de’ Cavalieri, 13–27; and Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 76–77.

19. For the location of the Cavalieri family palazzo, no longer extant, see Kirkendale, Emilio de’ Cavalieri, 16. For Cardinal Ridolfi’s palace adjacent to the church of Sant’Apollinare, which he inhabited from 1529, see Byatt, “‘Una suprema magnificenza.’”

20. For Cavalieri’s public service, see Kirkendale, Emilio de’ Cavalieri, 52. For Aldrovandi’s response to the collection see ibid., 46. See also Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 78, with further references.

21. See Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 78, with further references, and also Sickel, “Die Sammlung des Tommaso de’ Cavalieri.”

22. For Michelangelo’s aristocratic aspirations, see Wallace, “Michael Angelus.” For Cavalieri at Michelangelo’s deathbed, see Carteggio Indiretto, 2:172. See also Vasari, La vita di Michelangelo, 4:1834.

23. Carteggio, 3:443–44. In this undated letter, presumably composed at the end of December 1532, Michelangelo refers to “my first letter” (“la prima mia”), which does not survive. In his letter of 1 January 1533 to Michelangelo, Cavalieri refers to “one of your letters” (“una delle vostre lettere”), which he had already received; Carteggio, 3:445.

24. Wallace, “Greatest Ass in the World.” See also Parker, Michelangelo and the Art of Letter Writing, 4.

25. Carteggio, 3:443, 4:26.

26. Carteggio, 3:444, 4:26.

27. Vasari, Le vite di Michelangelo, 7:271–72; Condivi, Vita, 62.

28. Saslow, “‘Veil of Ice between My Heart and the Fire.’”

29. Poetry of Michelangelo, 195.

30. Rocke, Forbidden Friendships. See also Barkan, Transuming Passion; and Saslow, “‘Veil of Ice between My Heart and the Fire.’”

31. Busini, La vita di Benedetto Varchi; Pirotti, Benedetto Varchi; Cecchi, “‘Famosi Frondi du cui santi honori . . .’”; and Strehlke, Pontormo, 100–103.

32. See Strehlke, Pontormo, 100–103.

33. For the letters, see Carteggio, 2:342–43, 352–53. For the drawings, see Hirst, Michelangelo and His Drawings, 107–9. See also Schumacher, Michelangelos Teste Divine.

34. For the letters between Michelangelo and Febo di Poggio, see Carteggio, 4:66–68. For the letter signed “Simoni suo carissimo,” see Carteggio, 4:65. For the basic outlines of the relationship between Michelangelo and Andrea Quaratesi (1512–1585), see Wilde, Italian Drawings, 96–97. See also Barkan, Michelangelo, 197–99.

35. Carteggio, 3:292, 314, 431.

36. Carteggio, 3:431.

37. See Chapman, Michelangelo Drawings, 211.

38. Vasari, Le vite di Michelangelo, 3:775. A seventeenth-century artist viewed the Cavalieri portrait in the Farnese collection and described it as “vestito all’antica, e in mano tiene un ritratto, o medaglia, che si sia/sbarbato, e in somma da spaurire ogni gagliardo ingegno”; see Wilde, Italian Drawings, 97.

39. Scholarly consensus identifies the two first drawings as Ganymede and Tityus. Cavalieri records his receipt of the Phaeton in a letter of 6 September 1533, and reports that a number of people have requested to see it, the Ganymede, and the Tityus; Carteggio, 4:49.

40. Carteggio, 3:445.

41. For the literary history of Ganymede from antiquity to the Renaissance, see Saslow, Ganymede in the Renaissance; and Marongiu, Il Mito di Ganimede, 9–17.

42. See Panofsky, “Neoplatonic Movement.”

43. For the story of Prometheus and its history, see Raggio, “Myth of Prometheus.”

44. Carteggio, 4:49.

45. Panofsky, “Neoplatonic Movement.” For the Neoplatonic theory of love as a form of furor, and the alternate paths of amor sacro and amor profano, see Ficino, El libro dell’amore.

46. Saslow, Ganymede in the Renaissance, 28.

47. Ibid.

48. Barkan, Transuming Passion, 84.

49. Carteggio, 3:445.

50. Thode, Michelangelo, 2:357; Popham and Wilde, Italian Drawings, 253. For the suggestion that the Tityus was inspired by the Fallen Giant, found in Rome in 1514 and part of the Farnese Collection, presently in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples, see Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 114.

51. Precisely when Cavalieri received the Phaeton drawings is unknown, although his letter of 6 September 1533 provides a terminus ante quem for their reception. The inscription on the London sheet indicates that it was executed when Michelangelo was still in Rome, while Cavalieri’s letter suggests that the Windsor sheet was sent to him from Florence.

52. For the Phaeton myth, see Marongiu, Currus auriga paterni.

53. Carteggio, 4:12.

54. See Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 131–35, with further bibliography.

55. Carteggio, 3:443–44; 4:1–2, 3.

56. For Michelangelo’s penmanship, see Bardeschi Ciulich, Costanza ed evoluzione nella scrittura di Michelangelo, 48. See also Bardeschi Ciulich and Ragionieri, Michelangelo: Grafia e biografia.

57. Carteggio, 3:444.

58. For the poem and its meaning, see Rivero, “Petrarch’s ‘Nel Dolce Tempo de la Prima Etade.’” See also Parker, Michelangelo and the Art of Letter Writing, 116.

59. Carteggio, 4:3. The phrase first appears on the revised draft of the letter, written after Michelangelo received Cavalieri’s response to his first missive; Carteggio, 4:2.

60. Vasari, La vita di Michelangelo, 1:125.

61. Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 90.

62. Vasari, Le vite di Michelangelo, 7:271.

63. Buck, Michelangelo’s Dream, 81.

64. Carteggio, 3:445. In a letter sent to Michelangelo in Florence, Cavalieri alludes to his need for Michelangelo’s guidance to keep him away from “bad practices,” perhaps referring to his artistic instruction; Carteggio, 4:30.

65. See Kirkendale, Emilio de’ Cavalieri, 19.

66. Wallace, “Studies in Michelangelo’s Finished Drawings,” 190–92; and Wallace, Michelangelo, 179.

67. Carteggio, 4:49.

68. Barkan, Transuming Passion, 81.

69. Urbino joined Michelangelo’s household in Rome sometime before the artist’s return to Florence in 1533, to replace Antonio Mini, who had gone to France. He remained in Michelangelo’s employ until his death on 3 December 1555. See Wallace, Michelangelo, 259–60.

70. Carteggio, 4:1–2, 3.

71. Ibid., 4:3.

72. Ibid., 4:26–29.

73. Ibid., 4:36.

74. Ibid., 4:14.

75. Ibid., 4:25.

76. Ibid., 4:32–33.

77. Ramsden, Letters, 1:226.

78. In a letter dated 23 August 1533, Angelini reports that he has received two letters from Michelangelo, one “per mano delli nostri Bastagi e l’altra per il bamcho”; Carteggio, 4:42–43. “Bastagi” were porters responsible for transporting merchandise; “il bamcho” refers to the bank. For the history of the postal system in Italy, see Caizzi, Dalla posta dei re alla posta di tutti. For the period in question see Melillo, Le poste italiane; and Chieppi, I servizi postali dei Medici.

79. Carteggio, 4:25.

80. Ibid., 4:13, 32–33, 40, 42–43.

81. Angelini’s first surviving letter to Michelangelo is dated 7 September 1521, in which he passes along letters from Sebastiano and Giovanni da Reggio to Michelangelo and offers his services should Michelangelo need any assistance in Rome; Carteggio, 2:316. By 23 June 1523, he was assisting Michelangelo to negotiate the terms of a commission from Cardinal Domenico Grimani; Carteggio, 2:376, 381. During the 1520s, however, Michelangelo’s primary advocate in Rome was Gian Francesco Fattucci, see Wallace, Michelangelo at San Lorenzo; and Wallace, “Clement VII and Michelangelo.”

82. Carteggio, 3:303.

83. Carteggio, 3:304. Sebastiano instructed Michelangelo to address his letters to Angelini and to give them to Lorenzo Mannucci in Florence to send along. Angelini confirms the arrangement on the same date; ibid., 3:307; 320.

84. Sebastiano even suggested that Michelangelo send along a “littera fictiva” that he could show to the Duke of Urbino to mislead him about Michelangelo’s intentions; ibid., 3:318.

85. Melillo, Le poste italiane, 91.

86. Carteggio, 3:406.

87. Ibid., 3:306.

88. Ibid., 4:22.

89. Ibid., 4:36.

90. Ibid., 4:32–33.

91. Ibid., 4:56–57.

92. Ibid., 4:50, 56–57.

93. Ibid., 4:53–54.

94. Pfisterer, Lysippus und seine Freunde.

95. Ibid.

96. Carteggio, 4:17.

97. Ibid., 2:233.

98. Ibid., 4:36.

99. Ibid., 1:150; translation in Ramsden, Letters, 1:186.

100. Carteggio, 4:216.

101. Ibid., 4:49.

102. Ibid.

103. See Ruvoldt, “Responding to the Renaissance.”

Notes for Chapter 5, Giancarlo Fiorenza

1. Giovio, Liber de vita, 7; Italian translation by Gelli, La Vita di Alfonso da Este, 15–16. Giovio’s observation is corroborated by a letter dated 26 November 1523, in which the duke writes to his sister Isabella d’Este of Mantua, stating that he was sending her a gift of ceramic dishes that he had made and decorated in his secret spaces (“nostri loghi secreti”); see Magnani, La ceramica ferrarese, 1:15.

2. For a study of these “secret” rooms and studioli, see Folin, “Studioli, vie coperte, gallerie,” 97–109; and Liebenwein, Studiolo. Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 29, observes, “The symbolic force of the private study in figuring the ‘contemplative life’ was not itself new; what distinguished the princely studio was its redirection of humanist ideals of privacy (otium) towards the political ends of display. . . . In essence the studio was a backdrop against which the prince could stage the appearance of industrious solitude, thereby affirming the humanist ideology of personal culture as an entitlement to rule.”

3. For Lombardo’s reliefs and their inscriptions, see the entries in the exhibition catalogue Il Camerino di alabastro: Sheard, “Antonio Lombardo’s Reliefs,” and Goodgal, “Camerino of Alfonso I d’Este.” The precise location of the camerini d’alabastro in the Via Coperta, a narrow stretch of residential quarters connecting the ducal castle to the palace quarters, remains unresolved. Certain rooms in the Via Coperta display Alfonso’s name (ALFONSVS.DVX.III) carved on the architrave of the marble door frames, such as the one leading into the Camera del Poggiolo; see Borella, “Lo ‘Studio de preda Marmora fina,’” 117; and Hope, “I Camerini d’alabastro.”

4. For an interpretation of Dosso’s Jupiter Painting Butterflies, especially in relation to Lombardo’s reliefs, see Fiorenza, Dosso Dossi, 21–77.

5. Fiorenza, Dosso Dossi, 56–63.

6. See, more broadly, Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy, who also discusses such practices at Ferrara (51).

7. Calcagnini, Opera aliquot, 27, cited and translated in Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance, 11. On Calcagnini’s career, see Tiraboschi, Storia della letturatura italiana, 7.3:870–73; Piana, Ricerche ed osservazioni; and Lazzari, “Un enciclopedico del sec. XVI.”

8. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 1–4. See also Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature.

9. On the importance of “small forms” for Renaissance rhetoric, see Colie, Resources of Kind, esp. 32–75.

10. See Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino, 26–27, 50n51 (Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet), and 25–26, 35n1 (Christ and the Money Changers); and Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:257 (Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet); 259–-60 (Christ and the Money Changers). I agree with Zamboni (33) with regard to the patronage of these two panels and the corresponding documents cited.

11. See O’Malley, “Content and Rhetorical Forms,” 243–44, for Erasmus’s view of Christ as a great teacher and scripture as the book containing his “philosophy.”

12. Mann Phillips, “Adages” of Erasmus, 276. Erasmus goes on to say that “when it is a matter of knowledge, the real truth always lies deeply hidden, not to be understood easily or by many people.”

13. See the essays by O’Malley, Religious Culture in the Sixteenth Century; and Camporeale, “Renaissance Humanism.” See further Trinkhaus, “Religious Thought”; and O’Rourke Boyle, Erasmus on Language.

14. See Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions.” See also Busi, Enigma dell’ebraico, 73–97, for Hebrew inscriptions in Ferrarese paintings (including those by Mazzolino) in relation to Ferrarese humanism.

15. On Mazzolino’s art and career, see Borsetti, Historiae almi ferrariae gymnasia, 2:451–52; Cittadella, Catalogo istorico de’ pittori, 1:96–101; Baruffaldi, Vita di Lodovico Mazzolino; Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino; Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:232–61; and the various documents transcribed by Franceschini, Artisti a Ferrara.

16. For specific case studies, see Gundersheimer, “Patronage of Ercole I d’Este”; Schwarzenberg, “Die Lunetten” (Italian translation edited by Bargellesi, “Le lunette”); and Colantuono, “Dies Alcyoniae.” On a broader level, see Rosenberg, Este Monuments; Campbell, Cosmè Tura; and Fiorenza, Dosso Dossi.

17. Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino, 21, 44–45; Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:250.

18. Translations of the Hebrew inscriptions in Mazzolino’s paintings derive from Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions.” The author, 138, observes that the quotation from 1 Kings 6:2 appears in other paintings of the same subject by Mazzolino, as well as in his Ecce Homo (Musée Condé, Chantilly).

19. See especially 1 Kings 3–4.

20. According to Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–94), who adapts a theory originally formulated by Plutarch, the Egyptians adorned their temples with sphinxes “to indicate that divine knowledge, if it is committed to writing at all, must be covered with enigmatic veils and poetic dissimulation”; quoted in Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance, 17.

21. See Kessler, “Medieval Art as Argument,” for medieval exegeses concerning the pictorial metaphor from the Epistle to Hebrews (10:1), that the law is but a “shadow” to Christ’s “true image.” Notably, Barrufaldi, Vita di Lodovico Mazzolino, 14n1, observes that Mazzolino painted with “hot and lively” colors, together with interesting portrayals of elders and saints in a manner all his own: “Il colorito di lui è assai caldo e vivace, i suoi vecchi interessanti, e ogni cosa finitissima. Soleva coronare il capo de’ suoi santi d’una particular luce a tante aureole concentriche; modo tutto proprio di questo artista.”

22. See O’Malley, “Egidio da Viterbo and Renaissance Rome,” 80, for the affective dimension of sacred oratory to produce the desired effect of moral betterment.

23. See Resnick, “Lingua dei, lingua hominis”; Friedman, Most Ancient Testimony; and Ruderman, “Italian Renaissance and Jewish Thought.” Ruderman observes that while many Christian missionaries and polemicists mined Jewish texts, from rabbinic homilies to the kabbalah, to legitimate the Christian faith and point out the errors, shortcomings, and perversity of Judaism, the intellectual pursuit of Christian humanists, chief among them Marsilio Ficino and Pico della Mirandola, passionately sought to underwrite the essential and catholic divine truths that were common possession of all humanity and all cultures, “a unity and harmony of religious insight, a basic core of universal truth” (397).

24. Resnick, “Lingua dei, lingua hominis,” 51–74, has assembled a wide range of authorities from St. Jerome to St. Augustine to Dante Alighieri who affirm that Hebrew was the language of Adam, with Hebrew scriptures, because they antedate all other ancient writings, being “more reliable records both of the early history of man and of primordial divine truths” (56). See further Eco, Search for the Perfect Language, 7–33.

25. Quoted in Friedman, Most Ancient Testimony, 73. The quotation is from the German lawyer Johannes Reuchlin (1455–1522), who pioneered the study of Hebrew for Christians, and who argued that “God wished his secrets to be known to man through Hebrew.”

26. See Wood, Forgery, Replica, Fiction, 278–79.

27. See above all Ruderman, World of a Renaissance Jew. Also informative are Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 99–129; Franceschini, Presenza ebraica a Ferrara; and Robert Bonfil, “Judeo-Christian Cultural Relations,” with further bibliography.

28. On Prisciani, see Rotondo, “Pellegrino Prisciani.” Prisciani’s connection with Farissol is discussed by Ruderman, World of a Renaissance Jew, 28, and moreover offers a comprehensive biography of Farissol. On Farissol’s connection with artists and humanists at the Ferrarese court, see further Busi, Enigma dell ebraico, 73–97.

29. Friedman, Most Ancient Testimony, 182–94

30. Friedman, Most Ancient Testimony, 188.

31. Ruderman, “Founding of a Gemilut Hasadim”; Horowitz, “Jewish Confraternal Piety.”

32. Ruderman, World of a Renaissance Jew, 85–97.

33. The dispute is analyzed by Ruderman, World of a Renaissance Jew, 57–84.

34. See the observation by Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 141. Haitovsky fails to cite Ruderman’s essential study of Farissol and his Magen Avraham, which clarifies the dating of the Ferrarese debates and Farissol’s proper life dates.

35. Busi, Enigma dell ebraico, 95–97, notes the connection between Calcagnini and Farissol, and also suggests Farissol as the possible adviser for Mazzolino. As Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 134–35, notes, Mazzolino must have had a Jewish adviser because that name of God is abbreviated in his Hebrew inscriptions, complying with the customs of observant Jews that forbid the spelling out or voicing of God’s name.

36. In Calcagnini’s dialogue Descriptio silentii, 491–94, he analyzes in detail the practical, rhetorical, and philosophical merits of silence as exemplified by classical authors like Plutarch, Pindar, Xenocrates, and Aesop.

37. On the Roverella Altarpiece, see Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 99–129; and Busi, Enigma dell ebraico, 83–90. On Garofalo’s fresco, see Katz, Jew in the Art of the Italian Renaissance, 69–98. Following the relaxation of the laws requiring Jews to wear earrings and yellow badges, Hebrew script was one of the most “distinguishing signs” of Jewish identity for Christians; see Owen Hughes, “Distinguishing Signs.”

38. Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino, 32, 54–55; Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:244.

39. See O’Malley, “Content and Rhetorical Forms,” 240, for the emphasis on movere and delectare in sermons.

40. Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 135–41, also notes the significance of this inscription in relation to Christ’s salvation. The translation in the King James Version reads, “Ye shall dwell in booths seven days; all that are Israelites born shall dwell in booths.”

41. On representations of the sukkot in Ferrara, see Manca, “Renaissance Theater and Hebraic Ritual.” See further Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 138–39. According to 1 Kings 6:38, the dedication of the temple was postponed for eleven months after its completion. In addition, 1 Kings 8:2 reads, “All the people of Israel assembled to King Solomon at the festival in the month Ethanim, which is the seventh month.”

42. The dedication of Solomon’s temple thus begins with the Sukkot, and conceptually ends with Ecce Homo, when Christ is presented to the Jews in the temple just before his crucifixion, as noted by Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 138–39. Mazzolino’s Ecce Homo, now in Dresden, features the same inscription: “In the sukkah you will dwell seven days every citizen in Israel.”

43. Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzoino, 25, 41; Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:245–46.

44. Among the more recent studies on hieroglyphs and Egyptology in the Renaissance are Curran, Egyptian Renaissance; Curran, “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili and Renaissance Egyptology”; Eco, Search for the Perfect Language, 144–77; Wittkower, “Hieroglyphics in the Early Renaissance”; Dempsey, “Renaissance Hieroglyphic Studies”; Galis, “Concealed Wisdom,” 363–75; and Iversen, Myth of Egypt.

45. Mann Phillips, “Adages” of Erasmus, 175; and Greene, “Erasmus’s Festina lente.” In his 1517 translation of Horapollo’s Hieroglyphica, the Bolognese humanist Filippo Fasanini also values the symbolic nature of hieroglyphic characters (“hieroglypha grammatica”) because of their ability to conceal the most secret doctrines and the most worthy pieces of knowledge of Egyptian religion, yet reveal this information to the learned, who could grasp “the enigma of meaning” (“aenigma sententiae”) through informed deliberation, and subsequently obtain the highest honors; see Curran, Egyptian Renaissance, 156–58, 181–82.

46. Quoted in Wittkower, “Hieroglyphics in the Early Renaissance,” 116.

47. Dempsey, “Renaissance Hieroglyphic Studies,” 345, observes that hieroglyphic was not seen as the exclusive domain of Egyptian culture, but was promoted “as a universal symbolic means of communication among the educated, a means, moreover, inextricably intertwined with speculation about the origins of language and the language of God himself.”

48. Valeriano, Hieroglyphica, fols. 3v–4r; quoted by Galis, “Concealed Wisdom,” 365n10: “Sed ne in conquirendis multis laborare videar, cum hac hieroglyphica instituendi ratione similitudinem habere comperio divinas nostrorum literas, ita omnia mystico quodam sensu scripta quaecunque Moses, quae David, quae Prophetae reliqui coelesti spiritu afflati protulerunt. In nova vero lege novoque instrumento cum Assertor noster ait, Aperiam in parabolis os meum, et in aenigmate antiqua loquar, quid aliud sibi voluit, quam, hieroglyphice sermonem faciam, et allegorice vetusta rerum proferam monumenta. Et illud, Iesus in Parabolis loquebat ad turbas, nonne sermones suos arcano quasi velamine quodam contegebat. Pari modo videmus Apostolos ab usitato loquendi more recessisse, ut sacra de Deo dicta e ceteris scriptis, sicut merita dignitate, ita et forma quadam discernerentur, ne coelestium mysteriorum maiestas passim et indiscrete patesceret, sanctumque canibus, et margarita porcis exponerent.”

49. For an informative reading of Pieter Bruegel’s treatment of the same subject, see Kavaler, Pieter Bruegel, 13–20.

50. See Leoncini, “Deduzioni iconografiche”; and Gorse, “Augustan Mediterranean Iconography,” with further bibliography.

51. “He also wanted an obelisk erected in the middle of these two theaters with the letters that I have mentioned in the forms of animals and other things, almost like the Egyptian ones [quasi come quelle egiziache]. He wanted me to write his name and the date, that is, the year. He said he wanted this done before he understood them, although, as he said, he wanted them explained to him later”; quoted and translated in Curran, Egyptian Renaissance, 85–86. Burroughs, “Hieroglyphs in the Street,” 61, 77n29, also cites the relevant example of Bramante’s invented hieroglyph for the Vatican Palace, a proposal rejected by Julius II because the rebus was not unique.

52. Alberti, On the Art of Building, 256. See also Burroughs, “Hieroglyphs in the Street,” 57–81. Burroughs (60) notes that Paolo Cortesi’s De Cardinalatu (ca. 1510) recommends the use of aenigmata and apologi be reserved for the private arenas of a palace.

53. The mystical writings attributed to Dionysius the Aeropagite effectively confirmed for Renaissance humanists and theologians that the sacred scriptures functioned allegorically by preserving “the holy and secret truth” through “unutterable and sacred enigmas”; cited in Curran, Egyptian Renaissance, 74; and see Wind, Pagan Mysteries, 20.

54. Curran, “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili and Renaissance Egyptology,” 160, observes that “Alberti appears to place the invention of hieroglyphs at the beginning of the history of the figurative arts, ceding, in the process, the invention of this art to the Egyptians.” In addition, Galis, “Concealed Wisdom,” interprets Lorenzo Lotto’s designs for the intarsia covers in the choir of S. Maria Maggiore, Bergamo (1524) as functionally hieroglyphic.

55. Celio Calcagnini, Opera aliquot, 18–20, reprinted with an Italian translation in Savarese and Gareffi, La letteratura delle immagini nel Cinquecento, 57–68.

56. Calcagnini, Opera aliquot, 18; Savarese and Gareffi, La letteratura delle immagini, 60: “Et profecto, qui sunt maiorem quampiam picturam aggressuri, solent eius vestigia, quod ichonographiae beneficium est, praenotare, tum ut aliorum iudicia eliciant, tum ut habeant prae oculis in quibus periclitetur ingenium.”

57. See the relevant discussion by Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 126–27, as it relates to Ferrarese artists like Mazzolino.

58. Negro and Roio, Lorenzo Costa, 10, 81–82; and Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 26. For Costa’s use of Hebrew in his paintings, see further Haitovsky, “New Look at a Lost Painting.”

59. See Campbell, Cosmè Tura, 26–27.

60. Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino, 36–37; Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:252–53.

61. Lamo, Graticola di Bologna, 80–81, states that while Baldassarre Peruzzi praised this altarpiece as rivaling the works of Raphael on account of its pictorial refinement (“molto diligentisima”), he nonetheless finds its ornament unsightly (“ma con bruto ornamento”). For a translation of the Hebrew inscriptions in this altarpiece, see Haitovsky, “Hebrew Inscriptions,” 135–40.

62. See D’Amico, “Progress of Renaissance Latin Prose.”

63. On Casio’s life and career, see Fantuzzi, Notizie degli scrittori bolognesi, 3:130–40; Cavicchi, Girolamo Casio; and Berselli, “Un committente e un pittore” (see 127n10 for the discrepancies of Casio’s date of birth).

64. Zamboni, Ludovico Mazzolino, 24, 51; and Ballarin, Dosso Dossi, 1:254. Mazzolino produced several versions of this subject, another elegant example being housed in Christ Church Picture Gallery, Oxford.

65. For Casio’s writings on art, see Pedretti, Documenti e memorie riguardanti Leonardo da Vinci. Highlights include Casio’s poem dedicated to Francesco Francia’s Adoration of the Child of 1499, commissioned by Anton Galeazzo Bentivoglio for the high altar of Santa Maria della Misericordia in Bologna, in his Vita de’ Santi, 55v; and his poem dedicated to Leonardo’s St. Anne cartoon in his Cronica, 126r, a volume which also contains epitaphs on artists, including Francia, Boltraffio, Leonardo, Mantegna, and Raphael (46r–46v).

66. On Casio’s patronage of Boltraffio, see Berselli, “Un committente e un pittore,” 123–43; and Caprara, “Girolamo Casio e il ritratto a Bologna.”

67. Weber, “La collezione di pittore ferrarese,” 39.

68. Alfonso’s delicate balance of power between pope and emperor is expressed by the inscription on his own double ducat, “Que sunt Deo Dei,” which quotes Christ’s retort to the Pharisees regarding the payment of taxes (Matthew 22:21; Luke 20:25; and Mark 12:17). On the political currency of Alfonso’s coin, see Shepherd, “A Letter Concerning Coins”; and Rosenberg, “Money Talks,” 38–39.

69. Casio, Vita de’ Santi, 13v.

70. Burroughs, “Hieroglyphs in the Street,” 59.

71. See Lochrie, Covert Operations, 99.

72. See Campbell, “Pier Maria Rossi’s Treasure,” 81, who defines Pier Maria Rossi’s camera d’oro at Torrechiara, painted with scenes of ritual courtship, as a poetic and transformative space, arguing that “the architectural container of Pier Maria’s worldly wealth—a potential prison—is to be gradually discovered in the process of contemplation, as his living body, the repository and seat of real treasures, his God-given poetic faculty and fully realized soul.”

Notes for Chapter 6, Henry Dietrich Fernández

1. For the etymological association with secret keeping, see Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 127. See the book more generally for the Italian Renaissance secretary/segretario and 230–32 for Bibbiena in particular.

2. On Bibbiena’s apartment, see most recently Pediconi, “Cardinal Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena.”

3. Sansovino, Del secretario, 2v.

4. Marzari, La prattica, 1r, translated in Biow, Doctors, Ambassadors, Secretaries, 164.

5. Florio, Worlde of Wordes.

6. Ingegneri, Del buon segretario, 106. These “secret” rooms facilitated the privacy of secretaries and princes alike, for which see Folin, “Studioli.”

7. Moncallero, Il cardinale Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena.

8. On cardinals and their place at court in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, see Lowe, Church and Politics, esp. 46–52.

9. Weil-Garris and d’Amico, “Renaissance Cardinal’s Ideal Palace,” 78–79, 82–83.

10. For Raphael’s relationship with Bibbiena, see Jones and Penny, Raphael, 190–94; Talvacchia, Raphael, 106–7, 230–31.

11. Quoted and translated in Pediconi, “Cardinal Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena,” 95.

12. For staircases at the Vatican, see Fernández and Shapiro, “La Scala di Bramante.”

13. It is also worth noting the series of staircases in the fifteenth-century Castello di Pavia, which enabled restricted access to the chambers of the duke, his secretaries, and visiting dignitaries. When François I entered Pavia in 1515, for example, a wooden staircase was added to the piano nobile on the park side of the castle so that the king could go to his “rooms and hall without having to return through the galleries”; Welch, “Galeazzo Maria Sforza,” 359.

14. Vickers, “Leisure and Idleness,” 129–30.

15. Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 2:197. See also Pediconi, “Cardinal Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena,” 99.

16. Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 2:198–99.

17. On these renovations, see also Fernández, Bramante and Raphael in Renaissance Rome.

18. Redig de Campos, I Palazzi Vaticani, 109–10.

19. Ibid., 110; Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 2:241–42.

20. Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 2:291.

21. For an important study of the stufetta within the context of the sexual culture of Leo X’s court, see Wyatt, “Bibbiena’s Closet.” These decorations, while putatively private, were made popular by the engravings of Marcantonio Raimondi and his assistants, for which see Thompson, Poets, Lovers, and Heroes, 5, 36.

22. For the rediscovery of the Domus Aurea, see Weege, “Das Goldene Haus des Nero”; Dacos, La decouverte de la Domus Aurea. On Raphael’s engagement with the paintings of that complex, see Dacos, Le Logge di Raffaello; Dacos, “La Loggetta du Cardinal Bibbiena”; Joyce, “Grasping at Shadows.”

23. Thompson, Poets, Lovers, and Heroes, 36; Bette Talvacchia, Taking Positions, 270.

24. On Agostino Chigi’s patronage and the Farnesina, see Rowland, “Render unto Caesar”; Jones and Penny, Raphael, 92–111; Rowland, Culture of the High Renaissance, 179–82.

25. Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, 2:287.

26. For I Modi, see Talvacchia, Taking Positions; Turner, “Marcantonio’s Lost Modi.”

27. For the terminology of domestic architecture see Thornton, Italian Renaissance Interior, esp. 26–27.

28. On this chapel see also Fernández, “Raphael’s Bibbiena Chapel.”

29. Jones and Penny, Raphael, 189–92. On “small forms,” see Colie, Resources of Kind, 32–75; Struever, “Proverbial Signs.” See also Fiorenza, Dosso Dossi, 127–60.

30. Van Hamskeerck, Die römischen Skizzenbücher.

31. On Raphael’s sprezzatura, see Louden, “Sprezzatura in Raphael and Castiglione”; Shearman, “Castiglione’s Portrait of Raphael.” For Raphael’s architectural ingegno, see Rowland, “Raphael, Angelo Colocci, and the Genesis of the Architectural Orders.”

32. On the Temple of Vesta, see Stamper, Architecture of Roman Temples, 75–79.

33. Bembo, Lettere, 83–84.

34. Gombrich, “Style all’antica”; Barkan, Unearthing the Past.

35. Moncallero, Il cardinale Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena, 228.

36. See Pediconi, “Cardinal Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena,” 100.

Notes for Chapter 7, Allie Terry-Fritsch

1. These registers, known as tamburagioni, survive in the Archivio di Stato, Florence (e.g., Esecutore degli ordinamenti di giustizia). See also Dorini, Il diritto penale e la delinquenza; Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 44; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 49.

2. In order to verify an accusation of sodomy in Florence, for example, the Ufficiali di notte “needed the confession of at least one of the partners (but not both) or two eyewitnesses or one eyewitness and two persons who attested to public knowledge of the fact or four persons who confirmed public knowledge”; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 50.

3. Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 44.

4. See ibid.,” 44–45.

5. The group of Florentine officers known as the Ufficiali di notte, or Officers of the Night, were given the singular task in the fifteenth century to expose and convict sodomites in Florence and her surrounding territories. By the middle of the sixteenth century, the Florentine administrative focus on the containment and punishment of sodomitic practices had dissipated; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 7.

6. Labalme, “Sodomy and Venetian Justice in the Renaissance”; Ruggiero, Boundaries of Eros, 134; Zazzu, “Prostituzione e moralità pubblica”; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 46.

7. While the Ufficiali di notte verified denunciations with eyewitness reports, the Conservatori delle leggi, Conservatori dell’onestà dei monasteri, Ufficiali dell’onestà, and the Otto di Guardi almost exclusively used the information gleaned from anonymous and secret denunciations to move forward with criminal cases against corruption, blasphemy, gambling, and sexual trafficking; Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 44–47; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 45–84. On the visual aspects of punishment of sodomy in Florence, see Terry, “Craft of Torture.”

8. See, for example, Gellately, “Denunciations in Twentieth-Century Germany.”

9. Although, as has been widely discussed in the scholarship of the Stalinist, Nazi, and GDR’s use of denunciations, communities who were complicit in this demand produced dire situations of violence and corruption through their tattling. For several poignant modern examples, see the special issue dedicated to the denunciation process in modern Europe in The Journal of Modern History 68 (1996). On the US Army’s use of “snitch boxes” in their war on terror in Iraq and Afghanistan and the perceived ineffectuality of them, see Magelssen, “Rehearsing the ‘Warrior Ethos,’” 62.

10. de Certeau, Practice of Everyday Life, xix. Space, considered in terms of tactics, may be understood as a shifting construct of its users, for each individual brings to it his or her own sense of behavioral propriety, spatial memory, and lived experience. And yet the spatial field of the Renaissance city must also be understood in terms of strategies, which imposed decidedly collective behaviors on groups of individuals based on the terms set by those in control of the spaces. In this sense, the historian’s task is to endeavor for a “thick description” of space; Geertz, Interpretation of Cultures, 3–30.

11. Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence; Crum and Paoletti, Renaissance Florence.

12. Trexler has argued that “the image was born of devotion and dead in its absence”; Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, 70. This can be extended to the notion of space as well. In a sermon of 1424, San Bernardino of Siena claimed that people brought with them guardian angels inside the church. When the people were absent, so too were their saints; ibid., 53.

13. For an excellent analysis of the spatial and performative aspects of the urban theater in Florence, see Strocchia, “Theaters of Everyday Life.”

14. This form of interchange operates in a Bahktinian conception of the shared gaze; Bahktin, Rabelais and His World. On the semantic range of labels that marked the center of Florence, see Muir and Weissman, “Social and Symbolic Places,” 93.

15. Najemy, “Florentine Politics and Urban Spaces,” 33.

16. Hartt, “Art and Freedom in Renaissance Florence.” However, see important challenge to Hartt, especially in consideration of his definition of republicanism; Najemy, “Civic Humanism and Florentine Politics”; McCall, “Gendering of Libertas and the International Gothic.”

17. In political terms, however, the construction of these new palaces initiated a displacement of the working class toward the periphery and increasingly shifted political activities to the palaces; Najemy, “Florentine Politics and Urban Spaces,” 38–45.

18. On the notion of the city center as a site of “truth,” see Barthes, Empire of Signs, 30.

19. Strocchia, “Theaters of Everyday Life,” 56. On the politics of public inclusion in such open spaces, see Bennett, The Birth of the Museum.

20. Zorzi has noted a general trend away from the local or parish level toward more centralized administrative agencies in the fifteenth century in Florence; Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 47.

21. Alberti, On Painting, 35; Frosinini, “Paintings and Church Furnishings.”

22. Alberti, De re aedificatoria, 658.

23. In 1395, designs for the tomb monuments for Piero da Farnese and John Hawkwood were raised (although the Hawkwood monument was completed only in 1436). By 1396, the monuments to Accursio, Dante, Petrarch, Zanobi da Strada, and Boccaccio were planned (although not completed in the manner originally discussed); the painted cenotaph for Pietro Corsini was completed by 1422, Luigi Marsili’s by 1439, and the monument to Niccolò Tolentino was finished by 1456. A sculptural monument to Brunelleschi was erected in 1447, with others, including that for Giotto and the musician Antonio Squarcialupi, completed in the last decade of the fifteenth century.

24. Bruni, “Panegyric to the City of Florence.” For the creation and sustainment of sacredness at the palace, see Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, 49–51. On its history, see Rubenstein, Palazzo Vecchio. On the palace as a “public icon,” see Trachtenberg, Dominion of the Eye, 87–147.

25. On the shifting symbolic identity of the Bargello from the thirteenth to the nineteenth centuries, see Terry, “Criminals and Tourists.”

26. On the visual culture of civic cleansing, see Terry, “Criminal Vision in Early Modern Florence.”

27. Orsanmichele functioned as a grain market before its enclosure and transformation around the sacred altar. Its strong connection to the guilds ensured the popular use of the building. As investigated by Frederick Hartt and others, the decorative program of Orsanmichele contributed to a growing visual rhetoric of civic humanism in the first decades of the fifteenth century that emphasized the collective unity of the Republic. However, as Najemy has argued, the positive assertion of civic humanism may have functioned on the level of myth as opposed to reality, since the political arena was largely controlled by an oligarchic elite class; Najemy, “Civic Humanism and Florentine Politics.”

28. The church housed the ceremony of the election of priors to government, and also served as a site of political refuge or asylum for members of the government during times of disturbance; Villani, Nuova cronica. The church is no longer extant. During the fifteenth century, the church was altered significantly when the left nave was destroyed in order to enlarge Via della Ninna, which had become too narrow as a result of construction on the Palazzo dei Priori; Rinaldi, Favini, and Naldi, Firenze Romanica, 90. The right side of the nave then became the seat of the Compagnia degli Stipendiati; Busignani and Bencini, Le Chiese di Firenze, 113. Recent studies have promoted the hypothesis that the interior of the church was similar to that of San Miniato al Monte. That is, it was configured on three interconnected levels: the nave led to an exposed crypt below and a presbytery above. This spatial configuration would have allowed for multiple fields of observation in the context of the placement and use of a tamburo.

29. Zorzi noted that, for this reason, some anonymous denunciations actually bore personal markers of identity; Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 47.

30. Of course, anonymous denouncers could not claim the cash rewards for the information that they revealed, so certain denouncers, albeit few, included marks of their personal identity. In these cases, however, the task force protected the informant’s identity and did not share it with the public at large.

31. San Bernardino’s famous Lenten sermon of 1424 in Florence is but one example of this phenomenon. For the larger context of preaching and its impact on the community, see Mormando, Preacher’s Demons. For an interpretation of this vigilance and complicity to the government as a response to homophobic propaganda, see Micheler and Szobar, “Homophobic Propaganda and Denunciation.”

32. Frosinini, “Paintings and Church Furnishings,” 201.

33. These altars were all removed by Gaetano Baccani in the nineteenth century. See Fantozzi, Nuova guida della città di Firenze, 775–77.

34. The popularity of this painting of the Madonna della pila (Madonna and Child) was so great that crowds would gather around it, thereby causing traffic flow problems within the cathedral. It was later moved into the tribunal, and then, in the nineteenth century, into the Museo del Duomo. For the Trinity Altar before its dismemberment by Baccani and eventual placement in The Cloisters in New York, see Richa, Notizie istoriche delle chiese fiorentine, 115–17. For the Madonna “gratiarum plenissima,” see Poggi, Il Duomo di Firenze, 201–2.

35. As early as 18 January 1293, a tamburo was set up in the loggia of the Palazzo del Podestà for secret denunciations; Archivio di Stato, Firenze, Statuti del Comune, 1, c.11r. The use of the tamburo increased during the principate of Cosimo I; Uccelli, Il Palazzo del Podestà, 53–54.

36. For a discussion of the different problematics bound to denouncing and snitching, see Fitzpatrick and Gallately, “Introduction to the Practices of Denunciation.”

37. As Trexler and others have emphasized, frames provided guidelines for behavior although they cannot be taken as fixed prescriptions. The multipurpose use of the space gave complexity to its meaning. Bad behavior did, however, occur within churches despite regulations against it (one can easily think of urinating dogs, spitting parishioners, begging, even murder). For San Bernardino of Siena’s sermon on crimes committed within churches, see Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, 53.

38. Bentham, Panopticon Writings; Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 195–228.

39. Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, 53.

40. Although the frescoes of Sala dell’Udienza (courtroom) in the Bargello are no longer extant, Giorgio Vasari recorded a description in his Life of Giotto; see Edgerton, Pictures and Punishment, 51. For a discussion of Last Judgment scenes within juridical spaces, see Edgerton, “Icons of Justice.”

41. Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 296n98.

42. Ibid., 203.

43. Ibid., 203. These incidents of vandalism also give insight into the physical characteristics of tamburi, which were most likely three-dimensional boxes affixed to the wall or atop a pole or column. They therefore are unlike the better known and still extant examples of Venetian denunciation boxes—called bocche del leone—at the Palazzo Ducale that were integrated into the physical fabric of the wall of the loggia of the palace. These denunciation boxes offered a permanent opening, much like an open mail slot on a door, for the insertion of notes. The denunciations were deposited and stored in a box that opened on the interior wall of the palace and was thus inaccessible to the depositor or the public at large. Also unlike Florence, the authors of Venetian denunciations had to identify themselves and vouch for the accuracy of the information transmitted; if the denunciation was discovered to be false, then the individual who had generated it was forced to suffer the penalty of the accused crime. Thus, the transmission of information in the Venetian denunciation process was guided by internal verification methods.

44. According to San Bernardino, the destruction of sacred property was considered to be one of the sins most offensive to God. Sins against non-sacred things in a sacred place, however, were least sinful; Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, 53. Within the discussion of vandalism and destruction of the tamburi, this notion holds parallels to the destruction of postal boxes in the United States. Despite strict laws forbidding the tampering or destruction of these postal boxes (Title 18, USC Section 1705), “mailbox baseball” (i.e., hitting and damaging the postal box with a baseball bat while driving in a car) still remains a favorite pastime of teenagers. The mailboxes’ “sacral” character is not emphasized apparently enough to demand their preservation.

45. For example, Michael Rocke has traced thousands of denunciations regarding same-sex activity in Florence that were never sustained by concrete evidence in the archives of the Ufficiali di note; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 47.

46. Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 48.

47. Ibid., 48.

48. For a modern example of how the denunciation process was manipulated for political ends, see Alexopoulos, “Victim Talk.”

49. C. Lateran. IV. Ann. 1216, cap. 21; Watkins, History of Penance, 748–49. Pope Martin V reiterated this obligation for all Christians in 1418; Lea, History of Confession and Indulgences, 37, 214.

50. Jansen, Making of the Magdalen, 213.

51. On performative utterances, see Austin, How to Do Things with Words.

52. “Sit simplex, humilis confessio, pura, fidelis, vera, frequens, nuda, lacrimabilis, accelerata, integra, et sit patere parata”; Cavalca, Lo specchio de’ peccati, fol. 25r.

53. Bernardino of Siena, Prediche volgari inedited, 470.

54. Passavanti, Lo Specchio di vera penitenza, 178; Zimmermann, “Confession and Autobiography in the Early Renaissance,” 124.

55. According to the Lateran Council of 1216, the priest “must be careful not by word or sign in any way to betray the sinner, and if in need of wiser counsel he shall cautiously seek it without mentioning the sinner, for we decree that he who shall venture to reveal a sin known to him in the pentitential judgment shall not only be deposed from the priestly office but shall be thrust into a rigid monastery to perform perpetual penance”; translated in Lea, History of Confession and Indulgences, 229.

56. This notion of the spectacular punitive theater is emphasized in Foucault’s analysis of the premodern judicial system; Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 32–69.

57. Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 38.

58. Foucault, History of Sexuality, 58.

59. Ibid., 58.

60. Ibid., 61.

61. The development of the confessional box was a means to encourage the full transmission of the secret (sin) without the social implications of shame that may have previously been experienced through the public/collective act of confession. For theoretical insight on the impact of the confessional box on secrecy, see Lochrie, Covert Operations, 12–13.

62. Platt, “‘Shattered Visages.’”

63. In the case of sodomitic interrogations, the officials generally questioned the passive, usually younger and more socially vulnerable, partner first so as to pressure him to reveal the name of the active, and presumably more dominant and connected, partner; Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 50.

64. Ibid., 52.

65. Foucault, Discipline and Punish, esp. 195–228. Foucault used panopticism to discuss the development in modern Europe of a surveillance society that featured “a permanent, exhaustive, omnipresent surveillance” that “transformed the whole social body into a field of perception: thousands of eyes posted everywhere.”

66. de Certeau, Mystic Fable, 97.

67. Face-to-face rituals of insulting were also common; Cohen and Cohen, Words and Deeds in Renaissance Rome, 159–87.

68. Muir and Weissman, “Social and Symbolic Places.”

69. On the construction of the “powerful” image, see Freedberg, Power of Images, esp. 82–98; Belting, Likeness and Presence.

70. Emile Durkheim’s observations on the imperative for collective behavior in religious and social life may be seen in poignant contrast to the ways in which the tamburi undermined the community; Durkheim, “Ritual, Magic, and the Sacred.”

71. On collective denunciations, see Rocke, Forbidden Friendships, 83.

72. Quoted in ibid., 81.

73. On the increase in “forces of law and order,” see Zorzi, “Judicial System in Florence,” 48–51.

Notes for Chapter 8, Sean Roberts

1. See esp. Emison, “Prolegomena to the Study of Renaissance Prints.”

2. On this image see Talbot, Dürer in America, 142–43.

3. Belting, Likeness and Presence, 49–57, 215–25; Koerner, Moment of Self-Portraiture, 80–105.

4. Koerner, Moment of Self-Portraiture, 222–23.

5. Emison, review of Moment of Self-Portraiture, by Koerner.

6. Eisenstein, Printing Press as an Agent of Cultural Change, 1:27–31.

7. See esp. Marr and Evans, Curiosity and Wonder from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment.

8. Smith, Body of the Artisan, esp. 142–49.

9. Eisenstein, Printing Press as an Agent of Cultural Change, 1:1–31.

10. Johns, Nature of the Book, 28–40.

11. Cennini, Craftsman’s Handbook, 82–85, 127–31.

12. On the status of trade techniques as secrets in the medieval and early modern world, see Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship. See also Butters, Triumph of Vulcan, 1:176, 238, 345; and Wheeler, Renaissance Secrets: Recipes and Formulas.

13. Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship, 89–96.

14. On this disagreement see Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi, 43–47, 73–77.

15. Blunt, “Inventor of Soft-Ground Etching: Castiglione.” Castiglione was also the first printmaker to produce monotypes; Reed, “Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione’s ‘God Creating Adam,’” 66–73.

16. Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi, 27–32.

17. Wickhoff, “Beiträge zur Geschichte der Reproduzierenden Künst.”

18. Levenson, Oberhuber, and Sheehan, Early Italian Engravings from the National Gallery of Art, 528–49; Landau and Parshall, Renaissance Print, 65–66; Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch, 24, commentary, pt. 1, 1–4; and Zucker “Fine Manner vs. Broad Manner,” 21–26.

19. Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch, 24, commentary, pt. 1, 1–7.

20. Landau, “Printmaking in the Age of Lorenzo.”

21. Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch, 24, commentary, pt. 2, 75–78.

22. Landau, “Printmaking in the Age of Lorenzo”; Landau and Parshall, Renaissance Print, 108–12.

23. Landau and Parshall, Renaissance Print, 73.

24. The inventory was first published by Badia, “La bottega di Alessandro di Francesco Rosselli mericaio e stampatore,” 24–30. See Zucker, Illustrated Bartsch, 24, commentary, pt. 2, 3.

25. Roberts, “Francesco Rosselli Berlinghieri’s Geographia Revisited,” 17–18.

26. Harley, “Silences and Secrecy,” 57–76. See also Smail, Imaginary Cartographies; and Black, Maps and Politics.

27. Raby, “East and West in Mehmed the Conqueror’s Library,” 297–321; Raby, “A Sultan of Paradox,” 4; Brotton, Trading Territories, 92, 102–3.

28. See Woodward, Maps as Prints in the Italian Renaissance; and Woodward, “Techniques of Map Engraving, Printing, and Coloring in the European Renaissance.”

29. Campbell, “Letter Punches,” 111–15.

30. Skelton, Cosmographia: Rome, 1478; and see Hinks, “Lettering of the Rome Ptolemy of 1478,” 189.

31. See Ivins, How Prints Look.

32. On who the engravers for this project might have been, see Boorsch, “Case for Francesco Rosselli as the Engraver of Berlinghieri’s Geographia.” But see also Roberts, “Francesco Rosselli, Berlinghieri”s Geographia, and the Origins of Florentine Engraving.”

33. Cennini, Craftsman’s Handbook, trans. Thompson, 81–82.

34. On the composition of the Geographia see Roberts, “Poet and World Painter: Francesco Berlinghieri”s Geographia of 1482,” 145–60.

35. Kristeller, “The First Printed Edition of Plato’s Works and the Date of Its Publication,” 25–35.

36. The letter is referred to in Fillon, Inventaire des autographes, 6: 37, cat. no. 818. See also Anliker and Bonacker, “Francesco di Niccolò Berlinghieri und seine Ptolemäus,” 1–10.

37. Skelton, Cosmographia: Rome, 1478, v.

38. See Ficino, Letters, 4:3. For Berlinghieri’s correspondence with Lorenzo de’ Medici see Florence, Archivio di Stato, MAP, filza 21, nos. 8, 30, 75, and 82, and filza 34, no. 287.

39. On Niccolò’s practice see Ridolfi “Contributi sopra Niccolò Todesco”; and Ridolfi “Le Ultime imprese tipografiche di Niccolò Todesco.”

40. Dreyer, “Botticelli’s Series of Engravings ‘of 1481’”; and Keller, “Engravings in the 1481 Edition of the Divine Comedy.”

41. Veneziani, “Vicende tipografiche della Geografia di Francesco Berlinghieri,” 200.

42. On Bettini’s book and its engravings see Hind, Early Italian Engravings, 1:97–99. And see the forthcoming doctoral thesis of Emily Gray, “Origins, Forms, and Function of Early Florentine Devotional Engravings, 1460–90.”

43. My observations are drawn from the Huntington Library’s copy, Rare Books, #89909.

44. See Dreyer, “Botticelli’s Series of Engravings ‘of 1481,’” 111–15; and Keller, “Engravings in the 1481 edition of the Divine Comedy.”

45. In those copies I have examined (Florence, Bib. Riccardiana Ed. R. 691 and Ed. R. 626; Parma Bib. Palatina Inc. Parm. 628; and Rome, BAV, Inc. Ross. 1491), it is evident that the engravings were printed on a different paper stock than the text pages to which they are affixed. The prints have yellowed quite noticeably and are more brittle than the text pages, suggesting that the printing of the text had exhausted the allotted paper supply for the project and that less suitable paper had to be used when the images could not be printed on the same page as their accompanying verse.

46. Lincoln, “Mantegna’s Culture of Line.”

47. Sighinolfi, “I mappamondi di Taddeo Crivelli”; and Skelton, introduction to Cosmographia: Bologna,1477, vi–vii.

48. Campbell, Cabinet of Eros, 157–62.

49. Lightbown, Andrea Mantegna, 237.

50. Jacobsen, “Meaning of Mantegna’s Battle of the Sea Gods”; Emison, “Raucousness of Mantegna’s Mythological Engravings,” 159–76; and Campbell, Cabinet of Eros, 163–68.

51. Lightbown, Andrea Mantegna, 234; Boorsch, “Mantegna and His Printmakers”; Landau and Parshall, Renaissance Print, 71; and Christiansen, “Case for Mantegna as Printmaker.”

52. Kristeller, Andrea Mantegna, 530–31; Hind, Early Italian Engraving; Landau, “Mantegna as Printmaker,” 44–54.

53. Lightbown, Andrea Mantegna, 236–37.

54. Lightbown, Andrea Mantegna, 237; Boorsch, “Mantegna and His Printmakers,” 58. This basic position is also supported in Lincoln, Invention of the Renaissance Printmaker, 38–39.

55. Boorsch, “Mantegna and His Printmakers,” 58. On Mantegna and the status of court artists, see Warnke, Court Artist, 124–42; and esp. Campbell, Artists at Court, 9–18.

56. Furlotti and Rebecchini, Art of Mantua, 56–91.

57. See esp. Lincoln, “Invention and Authorship in Early Modern Italian Visual Culture.”

58. Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi, esp. 137–42.

59. Da Costa Kaufmann, Toward a Geography of Art, 107–53.

60. Levi d’Ancona, “Francesco Rosselli”; Gabrielli, Cosimo Rosselli, 112–14, 120–23; and Bansi, Gli Arbori della cartografia in Ungheria.

61. Anzelewsky, “Schongauers Spanienreise.”

62. On the wanderjahre and Dürer’s prints, see most recently Talbot, “Dürer and the High Art of Printmaking.”

63. Lightbown, Andrea Mantegna, 238.

64. Quoted in Babinger, “Lorenzo de’ Medici e la corte ottomana,” 319. On this embassy, see also Raby, “Sultan of Paradox,” 3–8.

65. This letter accompanied a gift copy of the Geographia sent to Bayezid. The letter was first published in Marinelli, “Una dedica della Geographia del Berlinghieri.”

66. Skelton, Cosmographia: Rome, 1478, vi–vii.

67. On the personal transmission of craft knowledge, see Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship, 88–96.

68. Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi, 48–52.

69. Skelton, Cosmographia: Rome, 1478, v.

70. On this phenomenon, see Richardson, Printing, Writers, and Readers in Renaissance Italy, 49–57, 81.

71. See Alexander, Painted Page, 28–29.

72. This copy is today in Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Banco Rari 341. On the binding and hand illumination of this example, see Gentile, Sandro Botticelli, 252–53.

73. Cole, Ambitious Form, esp. 58–69.

74. On the engraver’s finances see Boorsch, “Case for Francesco Rosselli as the Engraver of Berlinghieri’s Geographia.”

75. Almagià, “On the Cartographic Work of Francesco Rosselli”; Boorsch, “Francesco Rosselli.”

76. Canova, “Gian Marco Incisore per Andrea Mantegna.” See also Campbell, “Antico and Mantegna.”

77. On the importance of collaboration and the difficulties it presents for art historians see especially Radke, “Lorenzo Ghiberti: Master Collaborator.”

78. For this collaboration see Boorsch, “Mantegna and His Printmakers.”

79. Vasari, Le vite (1550), 1:512–13 and (1568), 1:492.

80. Vasari, Le vite (1568), 1:64.

81. See Rubin, Giorgio Vasari; Gregory, Vasari and the Renaissance Print; and Roberts, “Inventing Engraving in Vasari’s Florence.”

Notes for Chapter 9, Lyle Massey

1. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature; Cope, Secret Sharers in Italian Comedy; Lochrie, Covert Operations; Rasmussen, “Introduction”; Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship; Engel et al., Das Geheimnis; Park, Secrets of Women; Biagioli, Galileo’s Instruments of Credit; Kavey, Books of Secrets; Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy; Long and Rankin, Secrets and Knowledge.

2. Petrarca, The Secret, 47. See also Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 25–28. For further on the intimacy between reader and author activated by secrecy, see Campbell, Commonwealth of Nature, 21–59.

3. See, for example, Sedgwick, Epistemology of the Closet; Lochrie, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

4. Art history’s tradition of probing the Melencolia I for its secrets may be traced to Panofsky, Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer. Michael Camille characterized the engraving as “almost a paradigm of the problem of meaning itself”; Camille, “Walter Benjamin and Dürer’s Melencolia I,” 59.

5. Bok, Secrets. See also de Luca, “Notion of Secretum.”

6. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 93.

7. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature. Additionally, see Eamon, Professor of Secrets.

8. Kavey, Books of Secrets.

9. Johnson, Cornucopiae or divers secrets.

10. Massumi, “Everywhere You Want to Be,” 27; Grosz, Architecture from the Outside, 65.

11. Welch, “Painting as Performance,” 22. Additionally, for the room and for secrets, see Signorini, Opus hoc tenue; Arasse, “Il programma politico,” 49; Starn, “Places of the Image.”

12. Welch, “Painting as Performance,” 22.

13. Welch, “Galeazzo Maria Sforza,” 361.

14. For these secretaries and connections with secrecy in early modern Italy, see Leverotti, “‘Diligentia, obedientia, fides, taciturnitas’”; Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, and specifically Simonetta, Rinascimento Segreto, 127, for the etymological association with secret keeping.

15. Other suggestions for this man’s identity have included Ludovico Gonzaga’s brother Alessandro, as well as Raimondo de’ Lupi di Soragna; Signorini, Opus hoc tenue, 178, 367–70n.

16. For Rubino, a beast unlikely to reveal any secrets, see Signorini, “Dog Named Rubino”; Signorini, Opus hoc tenue, 254–65; Calzona, “L’abito alla corte dei Gonzaga,” 227–31.

17. Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara, 84: “segare 4 bussette in 4 ussi in le camere del N.S. perche le gatte ge possono andare.”

18. Lochrie, Covert Operations, 93.

19. See Valesio, Novantiqua, 16–17.

20. de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 97. For early modern rhetorics, moreover, see Levy, Propaganda and the Jesuit Baroque, 42–71.

21. Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood, esp. 98–101.

22. Galis, “Concealed Wisdom.”

23. Cortesi, De Cardinalatu, II.2: “Eodemque modo in hoc genere aenigmatum apologorumque descriptio probatur qua ingenium interpretando acuitur fitque mens litterata descriptione eruditior.” See, additionally, Weil-Garris and d’Amico, “Renaissance Cardinal’s Ideal Palace,” 97. The authors want to thank the anonymous reviewers for this and other references.

24. de Certeau, Mystic Fable, 98.

25. Raby, “Sultan of Paradox,” 4; Raby, “East and West”; Brotton, Trading Territories, 92, 102–3. For a reevaluation of the complicated circumstances of Matteo’s aborted diplomatic mission see McCall and Roberts, “Art and the Material Culture of Diplomacy.”

26. On Mehmed’s interest in European maps, see Babinger, “Italian Map of the Balkans”; Raby, “East and West,” 305–6; Casale, Ottoman Age of Exploration, 20–21.

27. de Certeau, Mystic Fable, 97.

28. Florio, Worlde of Wordes.

29. Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature, esp. 38–90.

30. Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning, 14–15; Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy, esp. 106–58. See also de Vivo, Information and Communication in Venice, esp. 40–46.

31. Hyland, Disguise on the Early Modern English Stage, 15–16.

32. Cope, Secret Sharers in Italian Comedy, esp. 1–16, 185–90.

33. Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, act V, scene 1, line 218.

34. Boccaccio and Petrarca, Griselda. For these frescoes now in the Museo d’Arti Applicate of the Castello Sforzesco in Milan, and for other early modern visual representations of the tale, see Baskins, “Griselda, or the Renaissance Bride Stripped Bare”; McCall, “Networks of Power,” 272–306.

35. For an insightful consideration of what can and cannot be revealed by a comparable fictive letter in Andrea Mantegna’s Camera Picta, see Starn, “Places of the Image.” For a rather different example of the rhetorical ways in which conspicuous envelopes both conceal and reveal tantalizing secrets, see Meyer, Outlaw Representation, 3–5.

36. Alberti, On Painting, 77–78; Alberti, Della pittura, 75: “Tum placet in historia adesse quempiam qui earum quae gerantur rerum spectators admoneat, aut manu ad visendum advocet, aut quasi id negotium secretum esse velit, vultu ne eo profiscare truci et torvis oculis minitetur, aut periculum remve aliquam illic admirandam demonstret, aut ut una adrideas aut ut simul deplores suis te gestibus invitet. Denique et quae illi cum spectantibus et quae inter se picti exequentur, omnia ad agendam et docendam historiam congruent necesse est.”

37. Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators, 134; Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy, 71–73.

38. For Leonardo’s proposed treatise on painting, see Kemp, Leonardo on Painting, 150.

39. Safarik, Fetti, 296–99; Safarik, Domenico Fetti, 1588/89–1623, 28–30; Waldman, “Domenico Fetti’s Philosophers”; Seydl, “Domenico Fetti: Portrait of a Man with a Sheet of Music,” 217; Roberts, “Silence and Secrets.”

40. DeGrazia Bohlin, Prints and Related Drawings, 298 no. 184. For this image, see also the essay by Patricia Simons in the present volume.

41. For more on this gesture, see de Luca, “Notion of Secretum”; Mancini, La lingua degli dei.

42. This sort of conspicuous unveiling “offers a critique or parody of a shaming culture by seeming to cover, yet inviting voyeuristic focus and tactile fantasies”; Simons, “Anatomical Secrets,” 327.

43. Lochrie, Covert Operations, esp. 93–134. See, additionally, Rasmussen, “Introduction,” and the entirety of that special issue of the Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies.