The books of a Catalan soldier in Naples in 1600

BarcelonaAt the beginning of the 17th century, in one of the floors of the Quartieri Spagnoli in Naples, a Catalan soldier guarded a surprising library. His name was Juan de Pinoso, the son of a minor branch of the Gironella nobility and had come to the city to serve Philip III. His household inventory, preserved in the State Archive of Naples, contains nearly seventy volumes, with copies of religious books and Latin grammar, Italian poetry, devotional works, and Castilian novels such asThe Celestinaand theLazarillo de Tormes.

This catalog, full of varied readings, allows us to see the soldiers not only as men of war, but as readers who actively participated in the culture of their time. "Many soldiers were cultured, but even those who weren't had seven stories. Reading was often done in common and aloud, which allowed it to circulate far beyond the literate minorities," explains historian and professor at the University of Alcalá, Ignacio Rodulfo. author of the academic article that brought the case to the table.

Now, to what extent is the Pinós library representative? Àngel Casals, professor of modern history at the University of Barcelona, ​​clarifies that a collection of that size was exceptional for a minor Catalan nobleman of the time. "Since the 16th century, the lower nobility already had a bookish culture; we have traces. But a library with seventy books is very large and, therefore, unusual," he points out. Casals points out that a distinction must be made between common soldiers, who barely had access to books, and officers, some of whom even wrote their own memorials and petitions and, therefore, had a certain amount of written knowledge. The theater, he adds, was another essential channel for cultural consumption.

The Catalan and Castilian presence in Naples was part of the reality of a city that was then under Spanish rule. The construction of the Quartieri Spagnoli transformed the urban center into a militarized and at the same time deeply mixed neighborhood, where soldiers from all the kingdoms of the monarchy, civil servants, religious figures, and slaves of diverse origins lived together. Rodulfo describes this coexistence as "full of cruelties and disagreements, but also of love and contagion." "Pasta, for example, had already conquered everyone. And among the documents, there are mixed couples between soldiers and Balkan or African slaves," he details.

The Pinós library shows an interesting variety and contrast. In Italian were the great chivalric poems of the Renaissance, such asFurious Orland, by Ariosto, and theJerusalem liberated, by Torquato Tasso, symbols of an idealized world of battles and loves. In Spanish, however, I read much more raw and realistic texts such as the picaresque works ofLazarilloor the hardness ofThe Celestina. "In Italy the prestige of the great heroic poems still weighed heavily, but the Spanish soldiers trusted more and more in their own letters. The contrast between Tasso and theLazarilloIt is not just literary; it reflects two different ways of facing life," says Rodulfo. In addition to the fiction books, Pinós had Nebrija's grammar books, translations of Ovid and Virgil, and religious texts such asConfessions,of San Agustín, which he took to the countryside. He was an ambitious reader who combined Latin, Spanish, and Italian, but without a volume in Catalan.

The fact that his entire library—apart from the Latin classics and Italian editions—was in Spanish is striking. Pinós, who wished to be buried as a "native of the Principality of Catalonia," lacked books in his native language. According to Rodulfo, this responded to a social reality of the time: "Spanish was the main language of literature and science throughout Spain, including Catalonia. Catalan printers were already responding to this demand. Pinós lived spontaneously in several languages; he knew how to experience the richness of reading and speaking spontaneously in the various languages that represented an increasingly broad scope." This detail also helps to understand the situation of Catalan in the middle of the Baroque, a language alive in its everyday use and in some literary circles, but displaced in international circuits and in noble libraries. Casals agrees, but adds that it is necessary to keep in mind the conception of identity of the time: "A nobleman was defined above all by loyalty to the king. Catalan could be the language of use, but social advancement was made in Castilian. Catalan identity at the time was more linked to the legal framework of the Principality than to the language."

In the midst of this Hispanic Naples, this discovery raises the question of how these books were read in an apartment in the Quartieri Spagnoli. Rodulfo provides clues: "Popular reading was done aloud, but that did not prevent there from also being intimate pleasure. Some volumes of Pinós, such as the musical ones, had to be shared with his companions, but others, such as theConfessions,of Saint Augustine, were for strictly private use." This mixture of intimacy and orality helps to understand why books like theromances They circulated so widely, becoming songs and performances. The lines between reading, singing, and sociability were very blurred. In this sense, Casals explains that the language barrier was a major obstacle to cultural diffusion. This is why iconographic arts, such as painting, and the performing arts enjoyed a greater degree of fusion than literature, which required much more time. Thus, the pictorial art produced in the Netherlands aroused more interest among the citizens of the Principality than its literature, Casals summarizes.

The Pinós experience illustrates how the lesser Catalan nobility was inserted into the networks of the monarchy and circulated throughout the Mediterranean. Their case is not unique. Other Catalan lineages had also had a prominent presence in Italy since the Renaissance, such as the Cardona family, who governed Sicily and Naples, or the Montcada family, who held military and viceregal positions. Àngel Casals also gives us an example of Catalan presence in the Mediterranean with Lluís de Requesens, "who, as ambassador to Rome, acted as an art dealer for other Catalan nobles who commissioned purchases from him," which he links to this artistic interest of the foreigner.

Casals points out that inventories like Pinós's are a common historical source. These lists, which accompanied wills, help us understand the cultural level and literary trends, along with library inventories, and a view of the material culture of different social groups, times, and places. These inventories also reflected a prestigious dimension to things: "Owning books could be part of a well-kept house, like having busts or religious figures. It doesn't always mean they were read intensively, but they also projected refinement."

Most revealing, however, is how these soldiers contributed to a circulation of books and ideas that connected Naples to the rest of Europe. "Spanish playwrights drew on the Italian verses the soldiers had encountered in Italy, while the soldiers' popular music and dances left their mark on the European Baroque," Rodulfo summarizes. "We mustn't forget that some of the great names in Spanish Golden Age literature were soldiers, Garci and Garci. It is in this context that they wrote part of their work. Soldiers not only transmitted culture, but were also producers."Don Quixoteor Garcilaso's verses would not be understood without that military and Mediterranean experience," he adds.

Confirming the cultural agency of the soldiers, Casals details that "when the soldiers went to places like Naples, they did not completely integrate into the local culture, but rather related to a specific part. As the armed wing of power, they were part of the ruling class and consumed its culture." In turn, he explains that "among the officers of the Hispanic army we find Flemish and Irish; There were many non-Spanish officers who had in common being Catholic." "They all ended up assimilating into Spanish culture and, in fact, played a very active role in the dissemination of Castilian culture," says Casals. This idea contrasts with what, according to the author of the article, is demonstrated by Joan de Pinós' discovery, inserted in the letters Spanish, Spanish, something that has nothing to do, for Rodulfo, with the much more sporadic contact of Flemish and Irish people –these yes, not Spanish– with the Spanish language and letters

The war context of the Mediterranean.

Around 1600, the Mediterranean was still fraught with tension between the Christian shore and the Ottoman Empire. The Battle of Lepanto (1571) had been a Christian triumph, but it had not ended the conflict. Barbary corsair raids continued along the entire coast. The Spanish monarchy used Naples as its main headquarters for controlling the Mediterranean. It had the Kingdom of Naples under direct rule since 1504, when Ferdinand the Catholic defeated the French in the War of Naples and incorporated the kingdom into the Crown of Aragon. Under Charles I and later, Naples was integrated into the vast Habsburg Empire, governed by viceroys sent from Madrid. This explains why, in the time of Joan de Pinós, there was a large presence of Spanish soldiers. Naples was the largest city under monarchical control in the Mediterranean—with some 300,000 inhabitants—and functioned as a political, military, and cultural center.

The case of Joan de Pinós demonstrates that seemingly minor figures open unexpected windows into everyday life. A household inventory reveals the more cultural side of a soldier, not only a man of arms, but also a reader of Taso and Saint Augustine, a fan of Castilian picaresque literature, and a participant in a vibrant, mixed environment like Naples in the 1600s. "History has privileged the enlightened travelers of the 17th century who were decisive," Rodulfo concludes.