Founded in 1419, the Ospedale degli Innocenti was the first orphanage in Europe, and its history is a fascinating intersection of many intellectual currents: the understanding of childhood as a distinct period of human development, the dawning recognition of the rights of children, the belief in the civic value of mass education, the importance of literacy (for boys, at least, at this time), the usefulness of orphanages as a source of city labor and as a method to disincentivize abortion. Luzzi's history of the orphanage is at once a history of childhood, of gender, of slavery, of Renaissance art and scholarship, and of Florence itself.
In Luzzi's history, however, is not a site of selfless and unsullied charity. It was funded by Francesco Datini, an illiterate but wealthy merchant who preyed on his servants and slaves and was eventually convinced near the end of his life to donate half of his testament to the cause. Many of the orphans were the children of enslaved people (primarily from Eastern Europe and Mongolia but also from Africa), and so the orphanage is also a record of male sexual violence—a convenient place where illegitimate children could be abandoned. Life in the orphanage and beyond was often bleak. Infant mortality was often the same as outside the institution; boys had to find work at the age of eight; girls depended on the hospital (acting in loco parentis) for a dowry but most ended up in convents (those that found work as maidservants were often subject to sexual harassment). While boys might be afforded better opportunities to learn writing and painting, successful male cantors might be castrated so that they could be used in the choir permanently.
But, as Luzzi's history shows, it was still a high-minded institute of Renaissance ideals. The orphanage was overseen by the Guild of Weavers who commissioned Brunelleschi to design its architecture. Under the directorship of Francesco Tesori at the end of the 15th century, it would amass a collection of frescos and paintings by Ghirlandaio and other esteemed painters. With its art prominently displayed, the orphanage projected prestige and permanence but it also sought to make humanism a public patrimony—even orphans would be exposed to art and learn from it. In the 16th century, under the directorship of Vincenzio Borghini, the orphanage would even offer lessons in painting and writing, and a number of the orphans ended up as successful artists. Borghini would also publish educational books on literacy and the teaching of Latin classics. So the orphanage is an integral part of the history of western pedagogy.
Overall, I found Luzzi's history to be fascinating—but not well organized. In one chapter, he reflects on the choice of the name "Innocenti" and then considers the number of Popes called Innocent—leading him to write about Pope Innocent XI who was a more pious and ascetic Pope, the perfect choice to lead the Counter-Reformation; this then segues into a discussion of Pope Innocent's prohibition on abortion, which then gave rise to the rise of hospices for abandoned girls. The book has a discursive quality, interweaving anecdotes, fiction, poems, art and shifting topics with a loosely logical thread. It's readable and breezy but its meandering structure also meant that chronology and context sometimes got quagmired.
Some sentences were also just plain weird, such as, "a leading historian of childhood, John Boswell, recently remarked that the Italian Renaissance was just as creative in rethinking the notion of the unwanted child as it was reinvigorating art and literature." John Boswell died in 1994. The book mentioned here ("The Kindness of Strangers") was published in 1988. It is strange to hear Boswell described either as "recent" or as "a leading historian of childhood" (technically true—but most historians would think of him as a historian of sexuality and religion). "Leading historian" and "recently remarked" is the kind of language that sounds like a professor cribbing from old grad school papers.