with a heavy iron heated repeatedly in the fireplace. Laundresses were known for their raw, chapped hands and red, puffy faces. But now Camilla didn’t have to do the laundry of others all day long; she would only do it for her own household and that of the cardinal.
Given the circumstances, it is no wonder that Camilla was famous for her frugality. In a society that valued ostentatious display – mostly on borrowed money – Camilla well understood the value of a scudo. She ran her household to avoid waste at all costs, and tucked the extra coins safely away for a rainy day. On paper, at least, she was a wealthy woman because as her brother acquired property in Rome he put it all in Camilla’s name. This was done to continue receiving his annual 1,200-scudi subsidy as a “poor” cardinal. If the pope knew just how many little rental houses Montalto owned, he might yank the subsidy.
Camilla was a scrappy, gritty woman, all bone and sinew and tensed-up energy. No job was beneath her, no work too hard for her. She ran her own household and that of her brother like a drill sergeant. “The good housewife is one who looks to everything in the house,” wrote the author of a Renaissance treatise on housekeeping. “She takes care of the granary and keeps it clean, so that no filth can enter. She sees to the oil jars, bearing in mind, this is to be thrown away, and that kept … She sees to the salted meat … she cleans the meat … She causes the flax to be spun, and then the linen to be woven … She looks to the wine barrels, if any are broken or leaking.” 4
It is likely that Camilla pitched in to help her servants with the cooking and cleaning. Not only would this have saved her the cost of a servant, but she could have made sure the work was done properly, with no waste. She would have personally overseen the delivery of firewood, candles, and animal carcasses, making sure she was getting value for her money. She would have taken bread dough made in her kitchen to the corner baker’s and rented the use of his oven.
Camilla would have made sure that the cleanest water possible was delivered to the house, water being a perennial problem in the thirsty city, ever since the Goths had cut the imperial Roman aqueducts back in 410 A.D. Some fifteenth-century popes had patched up the ancient Acqua Vergine aqueduct enough to supply a couple of fountains, but the water wasn’t nearly sufficient to provide for the city’s needs. The main source of water was still the Tiber.
Unfortunately, the river was the town dump for dead animals, household garbage, and human waste. It was also a popular destination for murder victims. Earlier in the century, when police investigating a murder asked a fisherman why he had not come forward sooner to report that he had seen two men throw a body in the Tiber, he replied, “In my time I have probably seen a hundred corpses thrown into the river at night, and no one has ever troubled about them.” 5
Despite the dead bodies and everything else, Tiber water was usually all right to drink if you let it sit for five days to allow the particles to settle, scooped out the water on top, and then mixed it with wine to kill the germs. Those who wanted truly clean water bought it from enterprising businessmen, who every day trundled into the city on carts loaded with barrels of fresh water from country springs; their employees ran throughout the city selling buckets of it, but such water was very expensive.
The cardinal’s sister welcomed the elegant Vittoria into her family with open arms. Camilla’s beloved son had improved the family status by marrying a noblewoman, and the most beautiful girl in Rome, at that. And Camilla was delighted that her son was head-over-heels in love with his wife, a rarity among married couples of the time. Yet it is unlikely that Camilla’s new daughter-in-law pitched in much with the housework. We simply cannot imagine Vittoria joining Camilla in scrubbing