The Della Seta family belongs to that ancient and deeply rooted core of Italian Jewry, and more precisely to the Roman community, one of the oldest uninterrupted Jewish diasporas in Western Europe. The surname appears among those recorded by Samuel Schaerf in his foundational repertory I cognomi degli ebrei d'Italia (Florence, 1925), a work that remains the first systematic attempt to classify and interpret the family names of Jews on the peninsula [Schaerf, I cognomi degli ebrei d'Italia, 1925].
The name "Della Seta" — literally "of silk" — belongs to a well-identified category of Italian Jewish surnames: those derived from a trade or craft. Scholars agree in placing Della Seta among the names designating a professional activity practiced by the family or its ancestors. Della Seta, Funaro, and Sacerdoti indicated the occupations of those who bore them. This onomastic lineage inscribes the family within the economic and social fabric of Roman Judaism, where the trade in fabrics and textiles held, for centuries, a central place.
The present account sets out to trace, with the caution imposed by the scarcity and dispersion of sources, the history of this lineage: its probable onomastic origins, its place within the long continuity of the Jewish community of Rome, its insertion into the constrained textile economy of the Ghetto, its emergence in the intellectual and political life of unified Italy, and finally the tragic ordeal of the persecutions of the twentieth century. Where transmitted tradition is to be distinguished from the established archive, the marker of each section will honestly signal as much.
The surname Della Seta lends itself to straightforward analysis: the Italian seta means "silk," and the phrase "della seta" translates as "of silk." This type of formation is characteristic of a significant portion of Italian Jewish onomastics, shaped by the particular conditions of communal life. Scholars distinguish several major families of Italian Jewish names: toponymic names, drawn from a town or region of origin; patronymic or biblical names; and occupational names, derived from a trade.
It is to this last category that Della Seta belongs. Scholarly tradition, echoed in works of historical popularization devoted to Italian Jewry, places this name alongside other well-attested occupational surnames within the Roman community. Della Seta, Funaro, and Sacerdoti indicated the trades of those who bore them, as opposed to geographical names such as Zarfati, linked to France, or Sermoneta, derived from a town of origin.
This interpretation is illuminated by the history of Roman Jewish names. The community of the Ghetto was so dense and so turned in upon itself that the identification of families by distinctive surnames became a necessity. The Jewish population of the Ghetto reached approximately 7,000 souls. They were numerous enough, yet too few to contract marriages that were not between relatives. In such an environment, a trade — here, the working or commerce of silk — constituted a natural marker of identity, transmitted from generation to generation until it crystallized into a hereditary family name.
A methodological caution must nonetheless be observed. While the etymology "of silk" is transparent and widely accepted, the attribution of an occupational name does not necessarily imply that all its bearers actually practiced the trade of silk worker: once fixed, a name travels independently of the profession it originally designated. The restraint of Schaerf, who confines himself to recording and classifying names without overdetermining their meaning, remains exemplary in this regard [Schaerf, I cognomi degli ebrei d'Italia, 1925].
Understanding the Della Seta family requires placing it within the history of the Jewish community of Rome, the oldest in the Western world. Considerable Jewish presence there is attested from Antiquity. In ancient Rome, no fewer than 8,000 Jews resided, integrated into the vast Mediterranean world. This ancient settlement, never interrupted, makes Roman Jewry a singular case, distinct from the great Ashkenaze and Séfarade diasporas by its own rite, known as Italki or Roman.
Over the centuries, the Jewish families of Rome built up a repertoire of surnames reflecting either their geographical origins or their trades. Some families took the names of ancestors who had lived in medieval Spain: Aboab, Attias, while others adopted names drawn from their city of origin on the peninsula. Della Seta belongs to this mosaic as a properly Roman name, rooted in the local economy.
A decisive turning point came in the mid-sixteenth century. But others still, such as the "Sermoneta," bore the name of the city where they had lived before Pope Pie V compelled the Jews to make their way to the Ghetto of Rome or Ancône. The establishment of the Roman Ghetto by the bull Cum nimis absurdum of Paul IV in 1555, followed by the measures of Pie V, overturned the material life of the community and durably fixed its social and economic frameworks.
It was within this enclosed and overcrowded space that the hereditary surnames of Roman Jewry became established across the generations. The demographic constraint of the Ghetto — a reduced number of families compelled into endogamy — explains the recurrence and stability of surnames such as Della Seta, transmitted without interruption through the centuries of confinement.
The name "de la soie" takes on its full meaning when examined in light of the economic conditions imposed on Roman Jews. Confinement in the Ghetto was accompanied by drastic professional prohibitions. The establishment of the Roman Ghetto in 1555 curtailed many privileges that had been granted to Jews over the preceding centuries. Among these restrictions was exclusion from most trades and from real property ownership.
Jews were in practice confined to a narrow economic sector: they were forbidden from owning real estate or engaging in any commerce, except for the trade in rags and second-hand clothing. It was within this trade of the strazzeria — second-hand cloth — that a remarkable textile expertise nonetheless flourished. The Jewish Museum of Rome holds approximately nine hundred fabrics, precious ornaments and textile trimmings made from second-hand cloths, owing to the prohibitions to which Jews were subjected, compelled as they were into the rag trade.
Here, the Memory of the name and the economic archive speak to one another. The surname Della Seta, "de la soie," carries the memory of a specialization in the trading and working of fabrics — silk, precious textiles recovered and reworked — which corresponds precisely to the economic niche left open to Jews of the Ghetto. Whether the family were silk weavers by trade or cloth merchants, their name is rooted in this textile History. One may also note that this bond with cloth extended well beyond emancipation: even in the twentieth century, Roman Della Seta families remained in the trade. Angelo Della Seta's father was a fabric wholesaler, with a shop on the Piazza Giudia, a business inherited from his grandfather Raimondo.
The convergence between the meaning of the name and the documented reality of Roman Jewish textile commerce is not genealogical proof in the strict sense, but it constitutes a coherent body of evidence: the onomastic tradition and the socio-economic archive mutually confirm one another, without it being possible to establish an unbroken chain between the eponymous ancestor and the cloth merchants of the twentieth century.
The unification of Italy and the emancipation of the Jews, in the second half of the nineteenth century, opened the doors of intellectual, academic and national political life to the Della Seta lineage. From families long confined to the cloth trade emerged leading figures in archaeology, philosophy and public life.
The most illustrious figure is undoubtedly that of the archaeologist Alessandro Della Seta. Alessandro Della Seta (1879–1944), Italian archaeologist, was born in Rome to Giuseppe Della Seta and Rachele Rosselli. His career was exceptional: in 1909 he obtained his habilitation to teach archaeology at university level; in addition to his prolific and remarkable scholarly output, he worked as an inspector at the Museo Nazionale di Villa Giulia in Rome; in 1913 he was appointed to the chair of archaeology at the University of Genoa. During the First World War, he attained the rank of artillery officer and was awarded the Croix de Guerre. From 1919, and for twenty years, Della Seta directed the Italian Archaeological School in Athens.
Another prominent figure was the philosopher and politician Ugo Della Seta. Ugo Della Seta was born in Rome on 18 July 1879, to Jewish parents, Mosè and Palmira Piazza. He obtained a law degree in Naples in 1901, where he studied under Giovanni Bovio. A thinker of republican and Mazzinian inspiration, he experienced a singular political destiny. During the years of the Fascist dictatorship, he was one of the very few professors to refuse to swear the oath of loyalty to the regime — a gesture of civic courage that set apart a handful of Italian academics.
The family distinguished itself further in the following century through the journalist and politician Piero Della Seta. Piero Della Seta (Rome, 1922–2001), from a Jewish family, was the son of Angelo, a wholesale cloth merchant whose shop was located in Piazza Giudia — a biographical detail that closes the circle, linking the intellectual and political commitment of the twentieth century to the old textile vocation inscribed in the name itself.
Like the entirety of Italian Jewry, the Della Seta family was struck full force by the fascist racial laws of 1938 and then by the deportations carried out from 1943 onward under the German occupation. This Roman community, two millennia old, was then registered, hunted down, and decimated.
The administrative apparatus of persecution is documented with chilling precision. It takes the form of a census of the Jews of Rome preserved as individual index cards — very thin pre-printed sheets, filled out by typewriter — indicating for each person the surname, given name, father, mother, place and date of birth, occupation, and civil status. This register of the Prefecture, compiled between 1938 and 1940, foreshadowed the roundups to come and preserves the nominal trace of Roman Jewish families, among them the Della Seta.
The fate of the archaeologist Alessandro Della Seta illustrates the brutality of this rupture. His international career, celebrated throughout learned Europe, was shattered by the racial laws; he died in 1944, in the darkest years of the persecution. The trajectory of Ugo Della Seta, who had from the outset refused any compromise with the regime, bears witness in turn to a moral resistance rooted in the republican tradition and in the dignity of an old family from the emancipated Ghetto.
The Memory of the lineage is preserved today at several levels: in the census archives, in onomastic directories such as that of Schaerf, in the collections of the Jewish Museum of Rome which preserve the fabrics of the Ghetto, and in the living memory of the Roman community. The name Della Seta, "of silk," thus remains the thread — in the most literal sense — connecting the constrained ancient cloth trade, the intellectual flourishing of emancipation, and the remembrance of the ordeals of the twentieth century.
The history of the Della Seta family reads like a cross-section through the long duration of Roman Jewish identity. Its name, transparent and laden with meaning, bears witness to the lineage's inscription in the textile economy of the Ghetto, the only activity largely left to the Jews of Rome during three centuries of confinement. Recorded by Schaerf among the Jewish surnames of Italy, it belongs to the well-established category of occupational names [Schaerf, I cognomi degli ebrei d'Italia, 1925].
From the strazzeria of the Ghetto to the university chairs of unified Italy, from the fabric shops of the Piazza Giudia to the archaeological excavations of Lemnos and Athens, the trajectory of the Della Seta traces that of an entire community: confinement, emancipation, intellectual ascent, then persecution. Where the archive falls short, the convergence of evidence — the alignment between the name's meaning and economic reality, the continuity of the cloth trade into the twentieth century — permits a probable reconstruction, but never a continuous and certain genealogy. It is precisely this epistemic honesty that must guide the writing of such a Great Book: distinguishing what the archive establishes from what tradition transmits and what the historian conjectures.
