floors, bleaching ruffs in urine, or trudging to market each morning with a basket over her arm to buy cabbages. And it is possible that Camilla, awed by her noble daughter-in-law, didn’t expect it.
One of the only honorable, noble, and ladylike contributions Vittoria could give to the family was sewing and embroidery. Needlework was considered highly ethical for members of the gentler sex, protecting them from the perils of an idle mind, which was particularly dangerous for a woman. According to contemporary beliefs, if a woman’s mind had nothing in it, the vacuum between her ears would suction up the “naughty vapors” from her private parts directly into her brain, causing “the unruly motions of tickling lust.” 6 If she did not start having orgies with strange men, she would break out in pimples and lose her wits.
Luckily, there was plenty of needlework to keep the vapors firmly where they belonged. In sixteenth-century Rome, even an artisan would have a score of white linen shirts. In addition, women of all classes had dozens of large handkerchiefs, a fashion accessory used as a headdress, a shawl tucked into the bodice, or hanging from a belt.
Those items not used for hard labor would have been embellished. Shirts were embroidered around the neck and cuffs with black, gold, or silver thread. Handkerchiefs, tablecloths, and sheets sported red hearts, blue birds, and long sinuous green vines. A large project, years in the making, would have been the embroidery of bed hangings, perhaps with the family coat-of-arms.
Many women chose patterns from embroidery books, which had recently become popular, and were sold on the Via Pasquino, around the corner from Vittoria’s home. Home-made fan kits were popular, and perhaps Vittoria, who couldn’t afford an exquisite mother-of-pearl jeweled fan, cut out her own and glued feathers and ribbons on it. And so we can imagine Camilla, cheerfully emptying chamber pots and plucking chickens, while her daughter-in-law sedately embroidered a pillowcase or fidgeted with a fan.
Cognizant of her beauty, Vittoria probably spent considerable time on grooming. To wash her thick black tresses, she would have knelt in front of a basin with a spigot on the bottom, set up on the edge of a table. In addition to beautifying the hair, the monthly wash with lye was considered useful for “strengthening the brain and the memory.” 7 She would have brushed her teeth with ground-up coral and pumice stone, and then rinsed with vinegar. Scraping the teeth with such an abrasive mixture had the immediate effect of whitening and removed plaque and tartar, but it also removed tooth enamel.
She may have removed body hair using a mixture of lye, quicklime, and arsenic sulfide – a yellow mineral used to make paint. After leaving this concoction on a limb for seven minutes, all the hair would easily wash off, though we might wonder if some of the skin did too.
While Vittoria nurtured her beauty and embroidered, it is not certain what kept Francesco busy. When he married Vittoria he had probably just completed his university education, as most young men received their degrees at the age of nineteen or twenty. Given his uncle’s work ethic, it is certain that the cardinal would have found him gainful employment. Cardinal Montalto didn’t want Francesco to live in indolence off his uncle’s position but wanted “to see sweat with honor to be able to live hand-to-mouth,” according to the chronicler. 8
Perhaps Francesco worked for the cardinal himself, writing his letters and keeping track of his appointments. Or maybe Montalto had obtained for him a job in the Vatican administration. Few details emerge about Francesco, though contemporary records leave us with the impression that he was a good-natured youth, if a bit thick-headed. He was certainly ill-equipped to deal with the increasing demands of his beautiful bride.
For as the years wore on – unbearably the same, unbearably impoverished