Festival and Violence: Princely Entries in the Context of War 1480-1635 (European Festival Studies: 1450-1700) 9782503583334, 2503583334

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Festival and Violence

European Festival Studies: 1450–1700 Founding Editor J. R. Mulryne, University of Warwick, UK Series Editors Margaret Shewring, University of Warwick, UK; Margaret M. McGowan, CBE, FBA, Univerisity of Sussex, UK; Marie-Claude Canova-Green, University of London (Goldsmiths), UK Publications Advisory Board Maria Ines Aliverti, University of Pisa, Italy; Sydney Anglo, FBA, FSA, University of Wales, UK; Richard Cooper, University of Oxford, UK; Noel Fallows, FSA, University of Georgia, USA; Iain Fenlon, University of Cambridge, UK; Bernardo J. García García, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Spain; Maartje van Geldaer, University of Amsterdam, Netherlands; Pieter Martens, Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Belgium; Richard Morris, University of Cambridge, UK; Elaine Tierney, Research Institute, Victoria & Albert Museum, UK This Series, in association with the Society for European Festivals Research, builds on the current surge in interest in the circumstances of European Festivals — their political, religious, social, economic, and cultural implications, as well as the detailed analysis of their performance (including ephemeral architecture, scenography, scripts, music and soundscape, dance, costumes, processions, and fireworks) in both indoor and outdoor locations. Festivals were interdisciplinary and, on occasion, international in scope. They drew on a rich classical heritage and developed a shared pan-European iconography as well as exploiting regional and site-specific features. They played an important part in local politics and the local economy, as well as international negotiations and the conscious presentation of power, sophistication, and national identity, and sometimes in a global context. The Series, including both essay collections and monographs, seeks to analyse the characteristics of individual festivals as well as to explore generic themes. It draws on a wealth of archival documentary evidence, alongside the resources of galleries and museums, to study the historical, literary, performance, and material culture of these extravagant occasions of state.

Festival and Violence Princely Entries in the Context of War, 1480–1635

by Margaret M. McGowan

F

Cover image: François Dubois; oil painting of The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew (1572-1584). Copyright: Musée cantonal des Beaux Arts de Lausanne, 1862 inv. 729; photo Nora Rupp.

© 2019, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2019/0095/33 ISBN 978-2-503-58333-4 eISBN 978-2-503-58334-1 DOI 10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.116523 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper.

Table of Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements

7

List of Illustrations

9

Plates 13 Introduction 23 Chapter I. The Military Entry Classical Prototypes of Triumph Military Pomp in Renaissance Triumphs Charles V’s Entry into Bologna — Defender of the Faith

29 34 42 48

Chapter II. The Phantom of Empire Aspirations for Empire Assertions of Imperialism through Cartography and Tapestries Appropriation of the Imperial Dream

53 53 68 77

Chapter III. Military Spectacle During Princely Entries 81 Chivalric Performances 82 Mock Sieges and Mock Battles 97 Naumachia 102 Military Drills 104 Chapter IV. Representations of Victory and of the Conquered Images of War in Art and in Poetry Ambivalence in the Vision of Triumph and Defeat The Roman Legacy A Taste for Scenes of War Memorials of Achievement

109 114 118 122 128 138

Chapter V. Mythological Representations of Victory and Violence Hercules and his Twelve Labours Jupiter’s Triumph over the Giants Jason and the Golden Fleece Gideon, Man of God

147 148 163 171 180

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ta b l e of con ten ts

Chapter VI. Symbolic Images of Achievement and Inscriptions of Hope The Persuasive Power of Symbols Allegories as Expressions of Victory and Punishment Imprese, Hieroglyphs, and Dynasties The Sun: Symbol of Power Coherence and Confusion: Addiction to Symbols

185 186 196 202 207 212

Chapter VII. How to Express the Extraordinary: The Art of Hyperbole Resplendence: A Necessary Condition Believing the Hyperbole Poetry and Music

215 215 221 225

Epilogue. The Realities of Performance 235 Authenticity of Records 235 Preparations for the Entry 242 The Realities of Performance 250 Reconstruction 256 Bibliography 259 I List of Entries into European Cities, 1480–1635 259 II Printed Primary Sources 269 III Catalogues 272 IV Secondary Studies 272 Index of Ceremonial Entries

291

General Index

293

Preface and Acknowledgements

This seventh volume in the European Festival Series 1450–1700 extends work published by the Series Editor, Professor J. R. Mulryne who coordinated (with Margaret Shewring and Helen Watanabe O’Kelly) a large number of festival texts in Europa Triumphans (2004). It also builds on his Ceremonial Entries in Early Modern Europe (2015). In this new monograph, the accent is firmly on the violent context of Magnificence: it examines how war affected the minds and practice of both artists and princes, and shows how victims and their suffering were as prominent in festival shows as were conquerors and their projections of victory. What emerges here is the dark side represented in princely entries where imperial ambitions are built upon civic devastation and where myths elaborate and expose their ambiguous nature and message. I would like to thank the co-editors of the Series, especially Marie-Claude Canova-Green, and Professor Sydney Anglo for their support and careful reading of my text. I also owe a heavy debt to the Warburg Institute whose books and photographs have provided a large number of images in this book and, in particular, to pay tribute to Ian Jones who so expertly prepared them for publication. My thanks, too, are due to the British Library Board, the Bibliothèque nationale de France, the Musée cantonal des Beaux Arts de Lausanne, the Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen, the Institut national de l’histoire de l’art and the Royal Museums Greenwich who all kindly gave permission to use images from their collections.

List of Illustrations

Frontispiece The Temple of Janus (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden. J. Rupert Martin, The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus (London: Phaidon, 1972), fig. 82.

13

Colour Plates François Dubois, The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew (1572–1584). Copyright: Musée cantonal des Beaux Arts de Lausanne. 14 Plate II. Military welcome (1603), engraved Alexandre Vallée. Abraham Fabert, Le Voyage du Roy à Metz (Metz: [n. pub.], 1610), p. 17. Copyright: Bibliothèque nationale de France. 15 Plate III. The car of Happy Fortune (1550). Manuscript illumination, MsY (1268). Copyright: Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen. 16 Plate IV. Queen Elizabeth I (c. 1588). The Armada Portrait. Copyright: Royal Museums Greenwich, no. ZBA 7719. 17 Plate V. L’Equitation [Horsemanship], drawing Antoine Caron. Jean Ehrmann, Antoine Caron (Paris: Flammarion, 1986), fig. 25. 18 Plate VI. Giulio Romano, Hall of the Giants. Palazzo del Te, Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain. 19 Plate VII. Frederick V, Count Palatine as Jason in the ship Argo, engraved Matthaeus Merian. David Jocquet, Les triomphes, entrées, cartels, tournois (Heidelberg: Gotthardt Vögelin, 1613), C 33 e 2, p. 171. Copyright: British Library Board. 20 Plate VIII. Arch of the Legations, Brescia (1591). p. 16. Alfonso Caurivole, Il suontoso apparato (Brescia: Vincenzo Sabbio, 1591), 9930 d 11, f. 32. Copyright: British Library Board. 21 Plate IX. Pyramid in the form of a Grotto (1603), engraved Alexandre Vallée. Abraham Fabert, Le voyage du Roy à Metz (Metz: [n. pub.],  1610), p. 37. Copyright: Bibliothèque nationale de France. 22 Plate I.

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l i s t of i l lustr ation s

Figures Figure 1.1. Figure 1.2. Figure 1.3. Figure 1.4. Figure 1.5. Figure 2.1. Figure 2.2. Figure 2.3. Figure 2.4. Figure 2.5.

Entry into Antwerp (1594), engraved Pieter van der Borcht. Triumphal Procession of Maximilian I, engraved Hans Burgkmair. Mantegna: The Triumph of Caesar, engraved Andrea Andreani (1499), panel 9. The Siege of Vienna, 1529, engraved by Nicolaus Meldeman.  Entry of Charles V into Bologna (1529), engraved by Nicolas Hogenburg. Device of Emperor Charles V. Device of King Henri II. King Charles IX in triumphal car (1571), drawing Nicolò dell’Abate. Emperor Rudolf II (1603), engraved Aedigius Sadeler. Portico of the Habsburg Dynasty, entry into Antwerp (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden. Figure 2.6. Emperor Charles V’s triumph over Suleyman the Magnificent, engraved Hieronymus Cock. Figure 2.7. Parnassus overcoming Discord, entry into Antwerp (1582). Figure 3.1. Maximilian I visits his Armourers (1513). Figure 3.2. King Louis XIII in a tournament (1623), engraved Crispin de Passe. Figure 3. 3. Tournament in the Belvedere Court (1565), engraved by Etienne du Pérac. Figure 3.4. Part of the Siege of Breda (1628), etched Jacques Callot. Figure 4.1. Victoria, engraved by Frans Floris Figure 4.2. Victoria, engraved Jost Amman. Figure 4.3. King Charles IX on triumphal car (1571), drawing Antoine Caron. Figure 4.4. Battle on the Bridge, Florence (1598). Figure 4.5. Trajan’s column, engraved Etienne du Pérac. Figure 4.6. Title page, engraved Matthaeus Greutner. Figure 4.7. Massacre at Cahors (1561). Figure 4.8. King Henri IV before Dieppe. Figure 4.9. Battle of the Defenders (1615), etched Jacques Callot. Figure 4.10. The Battle, Misères de la Guerre (1633), etched by Jacques Callot. Figure 5.1. Obelisk, entry into Rouen (1596). Figure 5.2. Arch at the Porte St Denis (1549). Figure 5.3. Hercules holding the Provinces in chains (1600), engraved Pieter van der Borcht. Figure 5.4. The Giants storm Olympus, engraved Frans Floris. Figure 5.5. The Fall of the Rebel Angels (1554), engraved Frans Floris. Figure 5.6. Jason and the Golden Fleece (1563), engraved René Boyvin after Léonard Thiry. Figure 5.7. Gideon and the Angel, engraved Marten van Heemskerck. Figure 5.8. The duc d’Anjou as Gideon (1582), engraved Adam de Bruyn. Figure 6.1. Obelisk, engraved Jean Goujon. Figure 6.2. Triumphal arch (1600), engraved Matthaeus Greutner. Figure 6.3. Device of King Louis XII. Figure 6.4. Title page of entry into Valenciennes (1600), engraved Pieter van der Borcht. Figure 6.5. Obelisk, entry into Paris (1549). Figure 6.6. Device of King Philip II. Figure 7.1. Arch of the Italian merchants (1619).

31 39 45 47 49 54 57 59 62 67 71 75 83 86 95 99 110 113 116 121 123 127 137 139 141 142 153 159 161 166 167 173 179 182 191 195 197 201 205 209 231

list of illustrations Figure 7.2. Figure 8.1. Figure 8.2. Figure 8.3. Figure 8.4. Figure 8.5.

Arch of the Painters (1619). Triumphal car (1600), engraved Matthaeus Greutner. Present offered to King Charles IX (1571). Triumphal arch (1622). The Temple of Peace (1594), engraved Pieter van der Borcht. The Temple of Janus (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden.

232 238 240 241 247 249

11

Frontispiece: The Temple of Janus (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden. J. Rupert Martin, The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus (London: Phaidon, 1972), fig. 82.

Plate I. François Dubois, The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew (1572–1584). Copyright: Musée cantonal des Beaux Arts de Lausanne.

Plate II. Military welcome (1603), engraved Alexandre Vallée. Abraham Fabert, Le Voyage du Roy à Metz (Metz: [n. pub.], 1610), p. 17. Copyright: Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Plate III. The car of Happy Fortune (1550). Manuscript illumination, MsY (1268). Copyright: Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen.

Plate IV. Queen Elizabeth I (c. 1588). The Armada Portrait. Copyright: Royal Museums Greenwich, no. ZBA 7719.

Plate V. L’Equitation [Horsemanship], drawing Antoine Caron. Jean Ehrmann, Antoine Caron (Paris: Flammarion, 1986), fig. 25.

Plate VI. Giulio Romano, Hall of the Giants. Palazzo del Te, Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain.

Plate VII. Frederick V, Count Palatine as Jason in the ship Argo, engraved Matthaeus Merian. David Jocquet, Les triomphes, entrées, cartels, tournois (Heidelberg: Gotthardt Vögelin, 1613), C 33 e 2, p. 171. Copyright: British Library Board.

Plate VIII. Arch of the Legations, Brescia (1591). p. 16. Alfonso Caurivole, Il suontoso apparato (Brescia: Vincenzo Sabbio, 1591), 9930 d 11, f. 32. Copyright: British Library Board.

Plate IX. Pyramid in the form of a Grotto (1603), engraved Alexandre Vallée. Abraham Fabert, Le voyage du Roy à Metz (Metz: [n. pub.],  1610), p. 37. Copyright: Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Introduction

Processions of peoples through cities whether during religious festivals, seasonal celebrations or for those special occasions which marked the advent of a noble personage, were the most fertile public performances in the early modern period. Civic and religious authorities tolerated and financed days of public demonstrations: they licensed the antics of carnival; supported the guilds which organized mystery plays when the action moved from place to place across the urban space; and they planned with remarkable care and expense the display of wealth and the support of their citizens as they welcomed a prince into their midst. This book will focus on this last spectacle when municipal councils were anxious to impress and to negotiate the continuance of those privileges which had been granted by earlier rulers. Ceremonial entries into cities in Renaissance Europe were ubiquitous and have been much studied. Their splendour has been rightly stressed as has their learned iconography recovered from the classical past, the dialogue between a prince and city, and their promotion of the political interests of both citizen and ruler.1 Rich displays afforded by court and citizen, indulgent erudition on the part of planners and poets, with monuments showing the increasing skills of painters and architects, represented the achievements associated with princely entries — praised at the time by those who saw and made them, and much admired and studied since.2 This book seeks to uncover another side to such extravagance. Alongside studies which have made available rare texts of such shows,3 another set of works have focused on the widespread violence which was endemic across Europe at this time. Wars, massacres and





1 For a general overview of processional performance, Kathleen Ashley and Wim Husken (eds), Moving Subjects: Processional Performance in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2001); for specific studies, J. R. Mulryne, with Maria Ines Aliverti and Anna Maria Testaverde (eds), Ceremonial Entries in Early Modern Europe: The Iconography of Power (Farnham and Burlington VT: Ashgate, 2015); Marie-Claude Canova-Green and Jean Andrews with Marie-France Wagner (eds), Writing Royal Entries in Early Modern Europe (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013); Marie-France Wagner, Les Entrées royales et solennelles du règne de Henri IV dans les villes françaises, 2 vols (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2010); Nicholas Russell and Hélène Visentin (eds), French Ceremonial Entries in the Sixteenth Century: Event, Image, Text (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2007); Helen Watanabe O’Kelly and Anne Simon, Festivals and Ceremonies: A Bibliography of Works Relating to Court, Civic and Religious Festivals in Europe, 1500–1800 (London and New York: Mansell, 2000); Teofilo Ruiz, A King Travels: Festival Traditions in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2012); and Jean Jacquot (ed.), Les Fêtes de la Renaissance I and II (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1956 and 1960). 2 Insights into the detail of the splendour can be found in J. R. Mulryne, Krista de Jonge, Pieter Martens and R. L. M. Morris (eds), Architectures of Festival in Early Modern Europe: Fashioning and the Re-fashioning of Urban and Courtly Space (London and New York: Routledge, 2018). 3 J. R. Mulryne, Helen Watanabe O’Kelly and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans: Court Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).

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torture have figured in their titles.4 The connections between art and warfare have also been partially explored, especially their expression and exploitation in the growing print industry of the time.5 It is the purpose of this book to blend these studies of splendour and destruction by setting entry ceremonies within the context of war, seeking to explore how triumph and violence were intermingled and how the presence of war and the depiction of suffering on triumphal arches were used to explain and enhance their meaning. The painted and sculpted monuments invented for princely entries not only sent information out, they interpreted that information and the observer was expected to participate in that re-creation. Sixteenth-century writers were acutely aware of the role imaginative re-creation played in the impact of their work on their public. The celebrated poet Pierre de Ronsard provides an example. In his speech on joy and sadness which he delivered before King Henri III in February 1576, he explained how the imagination anticipated events and how that expectation was only fully completed in the remembering of that experience. He illustrated his argument with reference to the King’s victory against Protestants at Moncontour in 1569: D’avant que vous eussiez esté à la guerre […] par l’esperance vous conceviez déjà la guerre […] et desja vous jouyssiez du plaisir de la guerre par l’esperance imaginative. A la bataille de Montcontour vous jouissiez de ce plaisir par effait […] et après la bataille, racontant au feu roy vostre frere et à la royne vostre mere ce qui s’est passé, vous jouissez de la souvenance de vostre plaisir, mais la souvenance est la meilleure partie du plaisir, car l’esperance n’est que par imagination: la fruition est pronte et soudaine et la souvenance dure longuement.6 [Before you ever went to war […] through hope, you conceived it already [in your mind]…already you enjoyed the pleasure of war through imagined anticipation. At the battle of Moncontour you enjoyed this pleasure through experience […] and after the battle, relating to the late king your brother and to the queen your mother what had happened, you enjoyed the memory of your pleasure, but that memory was the best part of that enjoyment, since hope is merely a figment of the imagination, while the actual outcome is prompt and sudden and the memory of that is enduring].







4 This book has used findings from the following: David El Kenz (ed.), Le Massacre, objet d’histoire (Paris: Gallimard, 2005); Peter Davidson and Jill Bepler (eds), The Triumphs of the Defeated: Early Modern Festivals and Messages of Legitimacy (Wiesbaden: Harrossowitz, 2007); Denis Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes. Une histoire des guerres de Religion (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2008); Michel Nassiet, La Violence. Une histoire sociale. XVIe-XVIIIe siècles (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2011); Diane Roussel, Violences et passions dans le Paris de la Renaissance (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2012); Jonathan Davies (ed.), Aspects of Violence in Renaissance Europe (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013); and Robert Appelbaum, Terrorism before the Letter: Mythography and Political Violence in England, Scotland and France, 1559–1642 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 5 Notably in the passionate study on Dutch popular responses to war by David Kunzle, From Criminal to Courtier: The Soldier in Netherlandish Art 1550–1672, History of Warfare vol. 10 (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2002), and in the works of J. R. Hale, Renaissance War Studies (London: The Hambledon Press, 1983); War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620 (London: Fontana, 1985); and especially, Artists and Warfare in the Renaissance (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1990); and in Pia Cuneo’s studies: Art and Politics in Early Modern Germany: Jörg Breu the Elder and the Fashioning of Political Identity, ca. 1475–1536 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), and the essays, Artful Armies, Beautiful Battles: Art and Warfare in Early Modern Europe (Leiden: Brill, 2002). 6 Ronsard’s speech, given at the Académie du Palais, was one of three discourses to survive and can be found in Pierre de Ronsard, Oeuvres complètes, Jean Céard, Daniel Ménager and Michel Simonin (eds), Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, 2 vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), vol. II, pp. 1199-1202.

introduction

The greater effect and satisfaction which came from the telling of the King’s martial prowess were enduring, and it was this combination of imaginative hope and graphic recollection in the depiction of victorious experience which poets and artists explored in the images they had created for ceremonial entries at this period. Violence and triumphal representation of victory had always been present together. I shall remind readers of Caesar’s entry into Rome, recorded in detail by ancient historians and on the canvases painted by Andrea Mantegna. The latter’s magnificence and insistence on the idea of triumph and defeat, could only be matched by the Triumphs of Maximilian I and his Arch of Honour whose depiction by Albrecht Dürer and others will form a powerful starting point. The following pages will examine these traces of violence and show how Mantegna’s canvases at Mantua became a tourist attraction during the sixteenth century. They will also demonstrate how such scenes were part of that myth-making prevalent in all European Courts at this time where artists conjured up images of illusion which portrayed action-infused triumphs as a counterblast to the harsh realities which were experienced daily. Imaginary worlds reflected aspirations of power, displayed the violence of triumph and thus had a significant role to play in engendering both hope and appeasement.7 The taste for seeing triumph and violence depicted together will also be considered through other evidence: through the obsession with the power and ambitions of the Turks which dominated military strategy, infiltrated the minds of planners of entries, and was often a way of expressing worries about the belligerent actions of Emperor Charles V; the overwhelming presence of corpses killed by war, famine or disease; the spectacle of violence in the pamphlet literature of the time; its appearance on the prints which circulated abundantly recording the presence of war and its consequences for conqueror and defeated alike; and in the work of Jacques Callot (for instance) who etched both the splendour of festival and the miseries of war. Magnificence and misery coupled together can be illustrated by juxtaposing two festivals performed in Paris in the summer of 1549 — opposite in content yet similar in impact. The spectacle of King Henri II’s triumphal entry into his capital, was followed two weeks later by another elaborate display — that of the burning of heretics. Renaissance courts regularly watched such shows and such contrasts were common in other European cities at this time. They were a daily occurrence in Paris as the historian Jacques-Auguste de Thou reported many times in his Histoire; ‘on y brûloit tous les jours plusieurs personnes à cause de la religion’ [several people were burned every day because of their beliefs]; and he adds, that according to Cardinal de Tournon, such burnings were necessary in order to maintain peace in the land.8 These sights were deemed salutary lessons, exhibited by the Protestant painter François Dubois (1529–1584), who depicted Catherine de Medici’s ghoulish delight in contemplating the naked slain bodies piled up on the streets of Paris in his painting of the massacre of Saint Bartholomew (1572)





7 Stephen Campbell has argued persuasively that Mantegna’s Triumphs had, from their conception, an illusory and fictive status as (like Virgil) the artist relocated Caesar’s Triumph from Rome to Mantua, Stephen Campbell (ed.), Artists at Court: Image-Making and Identity 1300–1550 (Boston: University of Chicago Press, 2004), pp. 18 and 58. 8 Jacques-Auguste de Thou, Histoire universelle, 16 vols (London: [n. pub.], 1734), book XII (1553), p. 383.

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i n t roduction

[Plate I].9 Spanish and Portuguese princes, their courtiers and their ladies too, relished the dreadful drama of autos-da-fé, while in France (and to some extent in England and the Low Countries), the sight of torture and execution became an obligatory, lesson-bearing experience. De Thou described the sang froid of the ladies of the Court who came to see the corpses and who showed little emotion at the spectacle: Les dames venoient en foule avec encore plus d’impudence que de curiosité, considerer ces cadavres nus, sans qu’il parût qu’un si horrible spectacle leur fit la moindre peine.10 [The ladies came in crowds, with more shamelessness than curiosity to gaze on these naked bodies without the horrible spectacle seeming to give them the least torment] In fact, it was much more than this. At this time, the spectacle of death by violence was considered by many as a sure road to eternal merit for those who suffered and for those who looked on. Catholics and Protestants alike would thus have defended shameful sights of torture.11 Such was the context in which spectacular triumphs were prepared to honour princes who not only permitted public shows of torture but seem to have revelled in them. Using evidence from princely entries from all over Europe for the period 1480–1635 when this ceremonial form continued to change and evolve, from Italy, Spain and Portugal, from England, France and the Low Countries, from the German States and the cities of Eastern Europe, this book will discuss depictions of violence and festival thematically.12 It will take account of the evolving nature of entries whose chief elements have already been identified by scholars whose works have noted the shift from actors playing out a little drama, or allegories labelled with their meaning used to convey moral instruction, on to elaborate scenes and symbols painted or sculpted on large wooden frames whose form borrowed much from Roman imperial design and whose effect was far more life-like and vivid.13 It will show how art works moved from displaying mutual recognition by the monarch and the city of their respective powers and duties to extended celebrations of the qualities of the prince; and how their planning and the texts which recorded their aims shifted from simple linear sequences of monuments, arches, theatres, obelisks and

9 Dubois’ depiction of this cruel spectacle, because it shows a contemporary scene, is more compelling than the classically inspired canvas of massacre by Antoine Caron (see Jean Ehrmann, Antoine Caron. Peintre des fêtes et des massacres (Paris: Flammarion, 1986), pp. 21-32, plate 14. De Thou’s evidence makes clear that Dubois’ interpretation was not painted from prejudice, Histoire, book LII (1572), p. 401. It appears that the Duc de Guise usually described such events as ‘quelque momerie’. 10 De Thou reported how the Guise ensured that the King’s brothers witnessed such spectacles so that they might, from an early age, get accustomed to shedding the blood of their subjects; and he added: ‘Tous les seigneurs de la Cour étoient aussi aux fenêtres, pour voir les exécutions’, Histoire, book XXIV (1559–1560), p. 427. The sight of dead corpses was common during the French Wars of Religion, see Annette Finlay-Croswaite’, Henri IV and the Diseased Body Politic’, where she demonstrates how all sides in the religious wars adopted the language of pain and suffering, in M. Gosman, A. Macdonald, and A. Venderjagt (eds), Princes and Princely Culture 1450–1650, 2 vols (Leiden: Brill, 2005), vol. I, pp. 131-46. 11 For examples of how saintly deaths transformed the pain of even the most appalling torture into acts of glory, see John R. Decker and Mitzi Kirkland-Ives (eds), Death, Torture and the Broken Body in European Art, 1300–1650 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015). 12 A list of Entries, arranged chronologically, is provided in the Bibliography at the end of this work. 13 For such shifts, George R. Kernodle, From Art to Theatre: Form and Convention in the Renaissance (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1944), and Lawrence M. Bryant, The King and the City in the Parisian Royal Entry Ceremony: Politics, Art and Ritual in the Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1986).

introduction

columns to become massive coherent accounts that raised spectacle to a new level of artistic and humanistic endeavour. Such records provide evidence to support the view that the ephemeral art displayed in urban ceremonial should be considered as an art form worthy to be placed and studied alongside those painted and sculpted artefacts that have survived to be analysed and celebrated.14 While insisting on the common characteristics shared across Europe, this study will acknowledge differences such as the determination not to provide suitable monuments at all;15 or the emphasis in Eastern European cities on dynastic concerns; and the cross fertilization of artistic forms from Italy, France and the Netherlands to England, Portugal and the German States. Chapter I, the military entry, shows how the vision of a Renaissance prince was projected using elements from ancient Roman triumphs, and how this depiction blended together splendour and shows of martial power. Emperor Charles V’s entry into Bologna (1529) before his coronation by the pope will provide a climax to the discussion. Chapter II explores the theme of Empire, its extraordinary hold on the imagination and its abiding presence in artistic representations at the time. However unrealisable imperial ambitions were, they will be shown to have an important role in the context of war, whether it consolidated power for Alfonso I of Aragon (Naples, 1443), or was exploited by artists and poets in depictions of authority at the courts of France, Spain and Portugal (Henri II, entries 1548-50, Charles IX, Paris 1571; or Philip II in Toledo, 1560 and into Madrid, 1570, and his entries into Lisbon, 1581), England during the reign of Elizabeth I, and in the German States in the early decades of the seventeenth century. Military display which accompanied princely entries will be explored in Chapter III in order to demonstrate the affinities between the two forms (entry and tournament) and to show how, alongside other modes of combat performed during entries (sieges, mock battles and sea fights), these spectacles display a consciousness of the need to prepare for war. Examples will be drawn from Brussels, 1549; Paris, 1549 and 1612; Rome, 1565; and Heidelberg, 1613. Chapter IV will analyse how evidence of victory and violence intruded vividly on the triumphal arches prepared to welcome princes into cities like London, 1559; Mantua, 1574; or Lyon 1595; and how such scenes were intended not only to congratulate a victor and encourage him to further feats of strength but also to respond to the evident contemporary taste for such scenes as depicted in the engravings, for instance of Tortorel and Pellissin (1570) or in Richard Verstegen’s work (1587). Four major, recurrent mythological themes representing violence on triumphal arches throughout Europe are studied in Chapter V: the Labours of Hercules; Jupiter’s triumph over the Giants; Jason’s recovery of the Golden Fleece; and Gideon man of God. The discussion will demonstrate how these celebrated fictions incorporate political notions and are constantly modified by artists and poets as they responded to actual events. Their political significance is made clear by the frequency and continuity with which 14 See the arguments of Margit Thofner, A Common Art: Urban Ceremonial in Antwerp and Brussels during and after the Dutch Revolt (Zwolle: Waanders Publishers, 2007). 15 See James I ‘s visit to Scotland, and notably in Edinburgh where, in a satirical piece (Sir Anthony Weldon’s A Description of Scotland, written at Leith on 20 June 1617), it was reported that ‘For his Majestie’s entertainment, I must needes ingeniously confesse he was received into the parish of Edenborough (for a City I cannot call yt) with great shouts of joy, but no shewes of charge; for pageants, they hold them idolatrous things, and not fit to be used in so reformed a place’; cited in John Nichols, The Progresses, Public Processions of King James I, 4 vols (London: John Nichols and son, 1823), vol. III, p. 340.

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they appear on monuments designed to foster dreams of power. Chapter VI focuses on allegory and the advantages of its ambiguities when it came to express both achievement and defeat. From a study of this dual characteristic, it will emerge how artists developed the expressive capacities of these figurative modes from the relatively straightforward symbolic indications used in Paris (1485), Genoa (1523), or Lyon (1533), to much more complex matter. These changes are evident in the Ommegang which Chambers of Rhetoric organized in the Low Countries in the sixteenth century, or in those elaborate celebrations put on in Lisbon (1581 and 1619), or from the ambitious designs of the Jesuits for Henri IV’s welcome into Avignon (1600) which were emulated ten years later by Mathurin Régnier for Marie de Médicis’s doomed entry into Paris. Excessive exuberance in pictorial expression was matched by the use of hyperbole in contemporary assessments of the work of artists for princely entries. To describe extraordinary scenes of achievement required a special language and Chapter VII examines writers’ consciousness of this encomiastic art using the authority of Plutarch and Quintilian to perform their demonstrations. An Epilogue will provide insights into the realities of performance seeking to address how authentic were the representations and descriptions of victory and violence on the day. In sum this book will argue that princely entries, with all their paraphernalia of splendour, survived not only by virtue of their artistic importance but also because they served — momentarily — to express and counterbalance the turbulence which constantly threatened the order of court and city life. Through their art, violence was contained, accepted and explained. Their showy retrospection was experienced as a relief, even a temporary cure, for the grim realities that dislocated everyday living.

Chapter I

The Military Entry

In Johannes Bochius’ printed account of the entry into Antwerp (1594) of newly appointed Governor Archduke Ernst (1553–1595), the engraver Petrus Van der Borcht (c. 1540–1608) depicts the countryside around the city, marking out the processional route and filling it with soldiers on foot and on horseback. Large blocks of armed men are positioned in readiness to join the march into Antwerp [Fig. 1.1.]. This distant view provides pictorial evidence of the size of the military presence on this occasion. Indeed the text goes on to list the numbers of armed soldiers: the Archduke caught sight of twenty companies waiting to greet him (1521 men in all), plus over 2000 other citizens ‘marvellously armed’. With so many citizens skilled in military affairs and from the twelve divisions of soldiers positioned along the walls from each gate, the Archduke could be in no doubt about the city’s quality of defence.1 Scholars interested in notions of celebration, in the symbolic achievements on the impressive monuments erected for princely entries, and on the virtuosity displayed there by artists and humanists alike, have tended to disregard the significance of the military on these joyous occasions.2 Yet military presence of some importance is recorded by most eye witnesses in entries all over Europe. French kings, after all, had — since 1437 — ridden fully armed into cities of their realm, surrounded by a strong bodyguard,3 which both Charles VIII and Louis XII had displayed to great effect during their Italian campaigns when they entered captured towns, drawing admiration from both enemies and friends. André de la Vigne, for instance, reported Charles VIII’s entry into Florence (1494) when, accompanied by some 50,000 armed men, the King displayed his military force; several contemporary witnesses similarly testified to the power displayed by Louis XII’s entry into Milan in July 1509. Faced with a triumphal arch, erected in front of the castle and laden with military trophies, on which were displayed all the episodes of his recent victories, the king appeared as another Caesar, as the inscription confirmed: Victor triumphator semper augustus Caesare altero. 1 J. Bochius, Descriptio publicae gratulationis […] (Antwerp: Plantin, 1594). The text is reproduced in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), vol. I, pp. 492-574. 2 Exceptions are Margit Thofner who, in A Common Art, stressed how the largest component of a Joyous Entry consisted of civil militia men, and also Alison Stewart and Nicole Roberts who have provided a detailed analysis of Sebald Beham’s print illustrating the powerful cannon fire and fireworks which heralded Charles V’s entry into Munich (1530): ‘Fireworks for the Emperor. A new hand-coloured impression of Sebald Beham’s Military Display in Honor of the Visit of Charles V to Munich’, Oberbayerisches Archiv, 140 (2016), 22-37. 3 For information on the forming of the king’s bodyguard, G. Dickinson (ed.), The Instruction sur le Faict de la Guerre of Raymond de Beccarie de Pavie, sieur de Fourquevaux (London: The Athlone Press, 1954), pp. xli-xlii; and Anita Hewerdine, The Yeomen of the Guard and the Early Tudors: the Formation of a Royal Bodyguard (London: I. B. Tauris, 2012), p. 7.

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Figure 1.1. Entry into Antwerp (1594), engraved Pieter van der Borcht.

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Jean Marot, who was present, inflated the claim. It was the most spectacular triumph the world had ever seen, he wrote: ‘Never had Scipios, Pompey or Caesar entering Rome under triumphal arches received such a beautiful display’.4 Maximilian I’s entry into Ghent in 1508 had witnessed 10,000 pikemen in attendance; and another 2000 mercenaries marched through the city heralding the arrival of the Emperor who appeared with the Archduke and Margaret of Austria surrounded by a mass of knights on horseback.5 In 1541, his successor Charles V, fully armed on horseback, leading his soldiers entered Nuremberg where he was greeted by a large inscription on the great gate expressing the homage of its citizens sensible of the honour accorded to them by his warrior presence.6 His son Philip II and his French Queen Elizabeth were welcomed in Toledo (1560) with an impressive display of military manoeuvres and masquerades performed on a hill overlooking the city by squadrons of knights, forming a lively pendant to the 3000 archers who made up the King’s bodyguard.7 A smaller number guarded William of Orange when he entered Ghent in 1577. The four hundred experienced campaigners who surrounded the Prince were made sharply conscious of the all-pervasive atmosphere of war as they gazed with mixed feelings, both approval and condemnation, upon three statues erected in front of the church depicting Spanish soldiers as Violence, Murder and Robbery — eloquently giving form to the abhorrence the citizens felt at the misery which their country had endured from the weapons of Spanish forces.8 Numbers of troops varied from place to place, but a significant military presence was always assembled, partly for the protection of the visiting prince and partly as a show of strength on the part of the citizens. When Henri IV arrived in Metz in 1603 masses of military companies were deployed for his inspection. Their presence was clearly of significance since, in Abraham Fabert’s account of this entry, the names of the leaders of each company is recorded, with the detail of their dress and their devices [Plate II]. Fabert was at pains to describe the bravery beaming across the soldiers’ faces, equally evident in their proud attitude 4 Cited in Bonner Mitchell, Majesty of State, 1494–1600 (Florence: L. Olschki, 1986), p. 103. In his Memoirs, Robert de la Mark, seigneur de Fleurange also remarked: ‘ils lui fisrent toute son entrée selon l’ancienne coustume des Romains, en remettant à mémoire toutes les villes et chasteaux et batailles qu’il avoit gaignées, par peintures qu’ils portoient avant la ville’ [they gave him an entry according to the custom of the Romans, and brought back to memory all the cities and chateaux, and battles he had won by paintings which were carried around the city], Michaud et Poujoulat, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux et Cie, 1838), vol. 5, p. 16. For an analysis of Charles VIII’s entry and (in particular) his pose as a conqueror, see Eve Borsook, ‘Decor in Florence for the Entry of Charles VIII of France’, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorichen Institutes in Florenz, 10 (1961), 106-22. A similarly powerful impression was made by François Ier in 1515; the details of the ‘victorious conqueror’ are recorded in Pasquier Le Moyne’s diary, published in full by J. Snow-Smith, ‘Pasquier Le Moyne’s 1515 account of art and war in Northern Italy’, Studies in Iconography (1979), 173-234; entry into Milan (p. 230). 5 [Philippe A. C. Kervyn de Volkaersbeke], Joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur Maximilien I [into Ghent 1508] (Leipzig: C. Marquardt, 1850). 6 Vonn Römischer Kayserlichen Mayestat Caroli V[…] Nuremberg (Würtzburg: Balthassar Müller, 1541). 7 Oliver Capello, La regale et trionfante entrata in Spagna nella nobila città di Toledo […] Regina Isabella (Milan: Appresso F. Moscheni, 1560), pp. 4-8. The royal couple had already enjoyed military displays (‘una scaramuzza con 100 cavalli alla ginetta partite in 3 squadre’) at their reception in Madrid, [Francesco di Marchi], Aviso mandato d’al magnifico capitano Frances di Marchi da Bologna […] Archi triumphali e superbi apparati[…] Re Catholica di Spagna, nelle nobil Città di Guadalagia et di Madril (Bologna: Pelegrino Bonardi, 1560), sig. Aij. 8 The text of the entry into Ghent organized by Lucas de Heere in 1577 (Ghent: Weduwe van Pieter de Clerck, 1578), can be found with an English translation in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. I, pp. 475-91.

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as the King rode past line after line expressing his pleasure at such a valiant show.9 Again, in Cracow in 1592, for the entry of Sigismund III as newly crowned King of Poland, with his wife Princess Anna, Archduchess of Austria, there were 2900 knights on horseback, 2700 soldiers on foot, and 162 coaches and carriages. This impressive number of souls in the royal procession indicates the close connection in contemporary minds between quantity and magnificent display.10 Numbers appear not to have diminished in the seventeenth century. The Prince de Condé was welcomed into Dijon (1632), for instance, by two battalions each of one thousand men and he expressed his pleasure and admiration at the wonderful order displayed during their battle when both captains and common foot soldiers were commended for their speed and for the quality of their arms.11 Such pretensions to ‘splendour through numbers’ would reach its zenith in princely entries in the eighteenth century when, in Berlin, 45,000 men in 302 companies accompanied the entry of Elector Frederick III as King of Prussia: size and the power of the army reflected the glory of the monarch.12 Although, as has been indicated, protection of the prince and display of strength were obvious justifications for a large military presence, there were other explanations too. Blaise Pascal put his finger on one of the effects of such martial demonstrations. For the people who looked on, he wrote, their imagination was aroused by the sheer quantity of troops, by their weapons glistening in the sun, by the sound of drums and the call of trumpets. The force they saw was real and it moulded their view of the prince for whom such a display had been created. They trembled at his sight, continued Pascal, as their imagination dwelt on this figure thus made so different from other mortals.13 A prince’s status required a military entourage as Louis Marin demonstrated in his commentary upon Pascal’s text.14 Later experts in court ceremonial, like one of Louis XIV’s pages, explained that, although ostentatious display in dress and in military apparel could be a source of fatigue, it was absolutely necessary when the monarch appeared in public: On ne sauroit trop les [les princes] environner de cette majesté qui commande le respect et persuade vraiment au peuple que le souverain est, sur la terre, le représentant de Dieu de l’univers.15 [One can never surround princes too abundantly with signs of Majesty in order to command respect and persuade the people that the monarch is, on Earth, the representative of the God of the Universe].

9 Abraham Fabert, Voyage du Roy à Metz, l’occasion d’iceluy: ensemble les signes de resjouyssance faits par ses habitans pour honorer l’entrée de Sa Majesté (Metz: [n. pub.], 1610). 10 Entry of Sigismund III, King of Poland […] and his most beloved bride and wife […]Princess Anna, archduchess of Austria (Vienna: Leonhard Nassinger, 1592); published in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. I, pp. 414-19. 11 Entrée de très haut et très puissant prince Henri de Bourbon, prince de Condé Gouverneur et Lieutenant general pour S. M. es Provinces de Bourgogne, Bresse et Berry, en la ville de Dijon, 30 sept. 1632 (Dijon: la veuve Claude Guyot, 1632), pp. 32-33. 12 For a discussion of the extent to which military ethos had penetrated all levels of society in Prussia in the eighteenth century, Sara Smart, ‘The Return of the Elector as King: Johann von Besser’s Record of the Berlin Entry in May 1701 of Elector Friedrich III as Friedrich I, king in Prussia’, in Canova-Green, Andrews and Wagner, Writing Royal Entries, pp. 201-24. 13 Blaise Pascal, Pensées, opuscules et lettres, ed. Philippe Sellier, ‘Imagination’, no. 78 (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2010), pp. 183-84. 14 Louis Marin, Le portrait du roi (Paris: Editions du Midi, 1981), pp. 10-46. 15 Conte de Hezecques, Souvenir d’un page de Louis XIV (Brione: G. Montfort, n. d.), pp. 189-90.

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Classical Prototypes of Triumph Manifestations of martial force during princely entries may also be traced to the influence of classical prototypes. The triumphs of Emperors into Rome, fully documented by ancient historians, were emulated by Renaissance princes anxious to give heightened status to their image and by artists eager to display their knowledge and skills.16 In his Natural History, Pliny had made clear the nature and function of triumphs. He argued that they had several purposes: to acknowledge the power and victories of the Roman army; to honour the gods; to justify military campaigns; and, above all, to elevate the status of the commander.17 Plutarch’s Lives (one of French King Henri IV’s favourite books) contains a full description of the triumphs of Paulus Aemilius, and had long been available to humanists — Amyot rendered them into French and North into English. Suetonius’ biographies of the Caesars were also well known as were the Civil Wars of Dio Cassius. Modern reconstructions of the Roman triumph used this information which gave immediate access to the detailed elements characterizing that form and which were to be slavishly copied on monuments, on triumphal cars and in the processions created for fifteenth- and sixteenth-century princes. Flavio Biondo dedicated the tenth book of his Roma Triumphans (c. 1459) to the topic, and Robert Valturin’s [Valturius] Latin text (translated into French by Louis Meigret in 1555) studied ‘Des triomphes’ in the final book of his work.18 All this written knowledge was corroborated on the ancient monuments which could still be seen in Rome: on the arches of Septimus Severus and Constantine, for instance, or on the column dedicated to Trajan which showed his victorious troops curling round the structure. If artists were not fortunate enough to visit Rome, increasing numbers of prints of Roman antiquities were being published for them and for the connoisseur. Engravings by La Fréry, Du Pérac and Heemskerck supplemented the volumes on collections of antiquities which were increasingly available from Italian printing houses.19 Notable artistic interpretations of Triumphs added to the stock of inspiration. Petrarch’s Trionfi had already aroused wide interest in the moral implications of the notion of triumph, yet the full range of elements belonging to the ancient Roman ceremonies were to be found

16 On the impact of classical forms on Renaissance festival, see my article, ‘The Renaissance Triumph and its Classical Heritage’, in J. R. Mulryne and Elizabeth Goldring (eds), Court Festivals of the European Renaissance: Art, Politics and Performance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), pp. 26-50. The literature on the Roman Triumph has increased in recent years. Most helpful for examining the rules surrounding triumphs and the evidence of plunder is C. H. Lange and F. J. Vervaet (eds), The Roman Republican Triumph: Beyond the Spectacle, Analecta Romana Instituti Danici: Supplementum 45 (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 2014). For the monuments used and erected, M. L. Popkin, The Architecture of the Roman Triumph: Monuments, Memory and Identity (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 17 See Margaret Ann Zaho, Imago Triumphalis: The Function and Significance of Triumphal Imagery for Italian Renaissance Rulers (New York: P. Lang, 2004), pp. 1-20. 18 Sir Thomas North, Plutarch’s Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans [1579], 7 vols (London: David Nutt, 1895), vol. II, pp. 234-39; Flavio Biondo, Roma instaurata [1546] (Venice: B. de Boniniis, 1481), Roma Triumphans [c. 1459] (Brixia: B. Vercellensem, 1482); and Robert Valturin, Les douze livres touchant la discipline militaire, trans., Loys Meigret (Paris: Charles Perier, 1555), book XII, ‘Des triomphes, et que c’est, et d’où il est venu’, pp. 213-34. 19 For an account of this mass of material and its impact in Renaissance France, see my The Vision of Rome in Late Renaissance France (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000); for a comprehensive overview of print production consult Antony Griffiths, The Print Before Photography (London: The British Museum, 2016), especially chapters 13-18, pp. 216-305.

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in Andrea Mantegna’s painted panels of the Triumphs of Caesar, in Burgkmaier’s engravings of The Triumphs of Maximilian and on the Emperor’s Arch of Honour designed by Dürer. It is necessary to consider all these sources in some detail in order to understand not only their undeniable impact upon the creators of princely entries but also to show how they were used to reflect contemporary concerns regarding war and suffering. Plutarch’s account of the Triumph of Paulus Aemilius is perhaps the most detailed source. He tells of the practical preparations put in place prior to the entry procession; how sergeants and other officers holding staves in their hands strove to clear the streets of all the people and shepherd them into the places and onto the scaffolds erected for them as they came dressed in their very best to enjoy the triumph which was to continue for three whole days. Massed legions marched in the procession carrying trophies held high into the air, brandishing banners with painted scenes of towns besieged, invaded and succumbing to flames. The vast quantity of spoils was astonishing to behold. Three thousand men carried the riches contained in the 750 elaborately fashioned bowls and vases made of silver and gold, and filled with precious coins; to be followed by the 400 princely crowns of gold sent by the cities of Greece to honour Aemilius. The most splendid armour of the Macedonians was paraded, piled up into apparently haphazard yet artificially arranged heaps, all bright and shining. There were, in North’s words: burganets upon targets, habergions, or brigandines and corselets upon greaves, rounde targets of Cretans, and javelins of the Thracians, and arrows amongst the armed pykes.20 As these mountains of captured arms made their way along the streets, the noise and clatter was astounding. The sight of the spoils of the captives was impressive enough, but their sound (writes Plutarch) was much more terrible. Then came the chariot carrying all the armour and accoutrements of the defeated King Perseus who, dragged along in chains, was oppressed with sorrow. He was accompanied by his servants, his children with their teachers, and their own servants lamenting aloud. Trumpets sounded continually, their alarms reminding the soldiers of the sounds of battle and encouraging them on their way. Finally came the conqueror himself, seated in his triumphal car dressed in purple and gold, and holding a laurel branch in his right hand, as did all the soldiers who accompanied him.21 Consider now what Renaissance humanists made of such powerfully recorded scenes. In his efforts to inspire his contemporaries with a proper admiration of Rome’s past greatness and to instil an appreciation of its magnificence, Flavio Biondo (1388–1463) reconstructed the classical past by studying not only the evidence provided by ancient historians but also through detailed examination of what physically remained in Rome: monuments, inscriptions, coins and statues. In Roma instaurata (1446), he sought to build the topography of Rome partly to provide a valuable source of information for planners and fellow writers but chiefly to indicate ways of magnifying the modern city. As archaeologist and apostolic secretary to four popes, he was well placed to influence changes in the landscape of the imperial city. His praise for the ancient world took on a new aspect in his second work Roma Triumphans (c. 1459) which he infused with a sense of kinship between the

20 North, Plutarch’s Lives, vol. II, p. 235. 21 For an overview of the triumph, Robert Payne, The Roman Triumph (London: Abelard-Schuman, 1962).

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achievements of past times and those of the present. It is in this volume that he discusses the Triumph in some detail, reiterating many of the facts assembled by Plutarch and other ancient historians. Of particular interest for our purposes is his virtual translation of all the elements listed in the ancient historian’s account of the triumph of Paulus Aemilius and together with his own close attention to the very precise depictions of the effects of war which were paraded through Rome during the twin triumph of emperors Vespasian and Titus to which we shall return.22 In his La discipline militaire (1555), Robert Valturin also reported elements of the triumph drawn from Plutarch and others in his chapter devoted to ‘Des triomphes et que c’est, et d’où il est venu’. He dwells on the origins of the ritual and, for the triumph itself, he evokes all the preparations: the cleaning of the city and the strong military presence; the dress and accoutrements of the triumphator; the order of the processions and all the ingredients associated with triumph spelt out in earlier historical works. His final thoughts emphasize the importance of memorials, and on ways of ensuring that the memory of such magnificence was not lost. He discusses the use of columns, obelisks, pyramids and arches; outlines the value of paintings and precious objects such as sculpted vases; and ends his analysis with a discussion of the arches of Septimus Severus and of Constantine, underlining how the inscriptions explain their emperors’ achievements.23 Although these historical reconstructions of past triumphs provided significant details for artists and poets working on princely entries in the Renaissance, and although they furnished corroboration of the actual nature and elements of the triumph, the most influential records were contemporary artistic reconstructions which could also be studied at leisure: Andrea Mantegna’s nine panels of the Triumphs of Caesar displayed in the palace of San Sebastiano from 1506/7; Hans Burgkmaier’s 137 woodcuts rolling out the entire procession of the Triumphs of Maximilian I; or the extraordinary Triumphal Arch, built on paper, designed from 192 wood blocks (crafted from 1512–1517) by Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528). Dürer’s arch, resembling some fantastic cathedral façade, recorded the Emperor’s victories in words and drawings, with large inscriptions explaining the content of the crowded pictures and the heraldic references to his extensive lands. The Emperor’s historian Johann Stabius, in a colophon incorporated onto the design of the Arch, made the raison d’être of the structure abundantly clear. It provided pictorial evidence of Maximilian’s imperial purpose: The Arch of Honor of the Most Serene and Mighty Emperor and King Maximilian is constructed after the model of the ancient triumphal arches of the Roman Emperors in the city of Rome.24 22 For a discussion of Biondo’s influence, see my The Vision of Rome, pp. 312-20; details relating to Paulus Aemilius, emperors Vespasian and Titus, in [Flavio Biondo], Roma Trionfante di Biondo di Forli tradotto pur nova per Lucia Fauno (Venice: Michael Tramezzino, 1544), ff. 366r-367v; 370r-371v. For a recent study of Biondo’s influence, Frances Muecke and Maurizio Campanelli (eds), The Invention of Rome: Biondo Flavio’s Roma Triumphans and its World (Geneva: Droz, 2017). 23 Valturin, La discipline militaire, p. 226. 24 Translated in Larry Silver, Marketing Maximilian: The Visual Ideology of a Holy Roman Emperor (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), p. 82. Silver provides detailed descriptions of all Maximilian’s ceremonial paper projects, giving comprehensive bibliographical details of authors, artists, their state of completeness, the number of images, their nature and references to scholarly works and editions of the manuscripts and printed versions (pp. 37-40).

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Maximilian I’s Triumphs (published after his death in 1526 but which had been long in the making) was equally ambitious, with scenes from his political career spread out to provide a compendious record of the triumph of his life.25 Many of the elements of Roman triumphs can be found here — battle scenes, trophy bearers, banners, elephants and noble prisoners in chains from every land. And, as Christopher Wood has observed, this paper monument constituted a military performance that referred to pictorial performances already famous — that is to the Triumphs of Caesar painted by Mantegna.26 In Maximilian’s Triumphal Procession there is no attempt at authentic reconstruction. The Emperor, at whose behest the great procession was being constructed, took over the form and the idea of triumph and then had them fashioned so that they belonged to himself. Those who parade in the procession are real contemporaries of the Emperor; they are his subjects performing the real tasks related to Maximilian’s tastes in falconry, hunting, music, armour-making, fencing and tourneying (woodcuts 5-56). These activities are the necessary preparations for his victorious encounters. Between woodcuts 91 and 114, images of war predominate with soldiers carrying shields and banners held aloft, their devices not yet inscribed on their surface. They are depicted in full armour from all those countries where the Emperor had waged war and subdued the inhabitants. Scenes of battle of every kind are portrayed in the procession: naval encounters (91); captured cities rebuilt in wood and drawn along on carriages guided by armed men (96); war waged in mountainous regions (95); images of individual slaughter prominent in the foreground (98); and the countryside parched and empty in the flickering flames (101). The artist has tried to cram in as much visual information as possible as can be seen in the triple vision recorded on woodcut 100: at the top a city is under siege while, at the centre and at the bottom, the army is on the march accompanied by the baggage train [Fig. 1.2.]. The theme of conquest is extended to exotic climes in woodcut 129 which shows the people of Calicut: one figure naked, turbaned and perched aloft an elephant; some wearing reed skirts and others naked, carrying primitive weapons. It is important to recognize (as Silver has eloquently argued) that all these projects were closely supervised by the Emperor himself. Maximilian was involved in creating the designs, giving orders to his artists, planning his own monumental tomb, and dictating to his secretaries. At a time when his control over his political power base was, at best, precarious, he exploited the talents of writers, painters and sculptors to create a world of German heritage and military achievement which might counterbalance the set-backs he endured in trying to unify his vast domains.27

25 A reproduction of the entire series was edited by Stanley Appelbaum, The Triumphs of Maximilian I (New York: Dover Publications, 1964). 26 See Christopher Wood, ‘Maximilian I as Archaeologist’, Renaissance Quarterly, 57 (2005), 1128-74 (p. 1167). 27 Silver, Marketing Maximilian, especially Introduction, pp. 1-40, and chapters: ‘Family Ties’, pp. 41-76, and ‘Caesar Divus: Leader of Christendom’, pp. 109-45. See also Pia Cuneo’s study, ‘Images of Warfare as Political Legitimization: Jörg Breu the Elder’s Rondels for Maximilian’s Hunting Lodge at Lemnos (c. 1516)’, in her Artful Armies, pp. 87-105. That Maximilian prized the work of Mantegna can be seen from the letter, dated 6 June 1506, expressing appreciation of the work of Gian Mario Cavalli, Mantegna’s engraver, who had offered a series of engravings of the Triumphs to the Emperor; see Anne-Sophie Pellé, ‘Offrir les gravures de Mantegna: Prestige et ambition à la cour des Marquis de Gonzague à Mantoue’, Seizième siècle, 13 (2017), 125-39.

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Figure 1.2. Triumphal Procession of Maximilian I, engraved Hans Burgkmair.

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Andrea Mantegna’s canvases, painted over a period from 1486–1505/628 and designed to form the backcloth to entertainments, were carefully based on the evidence provided by both ancient and modern historians. There has been some dispute as to the actual sources which the artist used;29 and he may have referred to different authors at different times in the progress of the work. His magnificent designs (now in the Orangerie at Hampton Court Palace) were often visited by artists and princes alike, all of whom admired the sense of triumphing purpose, the relentless column of soldiers, banners, trumpeters, cars, spoils, musicians, exotic animals and captives chained in groups and led by soldiers exulting in the heaped-up masses of weapons, of armour glistening in the sun, and piles of instruments of war with siege equipment rising above the rest. Striking colours helped to mark out the objects in the crush of treasures as the overall and immediate impression is one of an undifferentiated jumble conveying astonishment and excitement. In some canvases (4-7) the countryside appears in the background to emphasize that the triumph is really passing through the streets of a city and citizens are sketched in, gesticulating from the tops of buildings and conveying a sense of a vast panorama being viewed below. In contrast to this boisterous excitement of the crowd, in the final canvas Caesar appears, seated with quiet dignity on his throne in his triumphal chariot [Fig. 1.3.]. As the vehicle passes in front of a triumphal arch (its figures half hidden by the frame of the painting), a standard waves in the air inscribed with ‘veni, vidi, vici’, and the hero is crowned with a laurel wreath by a winged victory.30 The legacy of triumph was enduring. In his account of Philip II’s entry with his Queen into Madrid (1570), López de Hoyos drew attention to the use by Roman Emperors of statues, triumphal arches and splendid edifices, inherited (he argued) from the practice of Egyptians and Greeks, as a means of remembering exceptional prowess and virtue, and of providing inspiration to others. A triumph, he wrote, ensured perpetual fame and would make a King not only worthy of such blessings but his glorious virtues would be recorded for ever in the history books. In this manner, the chronicler justified his detailed account of the triumphal ceremony he was recording.31 As late as 1620, planners of entries

28 Charles Hope has studied the chronology of the creation of these canvases, ‘The Chronology of Mantegna’s Triumphs’, Renaissance Studies in honour of Craig Hugh Smyth, 2 vols (Florence: Giunti, 1985), vol. II, pp. 297-309. 29 See the discussion of Anthony S. Halliday, ‘The Literary Sources of Mantegna’s Triumphs of Caesar’, in Cesare Mozzarelli, Robert Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds), La Corte di Mantova nell’età di Andrea Mantegna: 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni Editore, 1998), pp. 187-96. 30 On Mantegna’s triumphs, see Andrew Martindale, The Triumphs of Caesar (London: Harvey Miller, 1979). The full set of Andreani’s careful representations of Mantegna’s panels (1598–1599) are reproduced in Larry Silver and Elizabeth Wyckoff (eds), Grand Scale, Monumental Prints (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2008), catalogue no. 12. Andreani dedicated his engravings to Vincenzo Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua, who had helped to finance the series, see Griffiths, The Print, p. 307. An earlier version of the triumphs on a panel from a cassone painted by Giovanni di Ser Giovanni (c. 1444–1465) can be found in the New York Historical Society’s Museum and Library. 31 J. López de Hoyos, Real apparato, y sumptuoso recibimiento con que Madrid (Madrid: Iuan Gracian, 1572), f. 52v; cited by Francisco Javier Pizarro Gómez, Arte y espectáculo en los viajes de Felipe II: 1542-1592 (Madrid: Ediciones Encuentro, 1999), p. 130: ‘Pues con esta consideración y acuerdo, assi a los Emperadores Romanos, como a los Egypciós y Athenienses levantavan estatuas, hazian arcos triumphales, edificavan memorias tan sobervias y sumptuosas que fuessen premio de la virtud y exemplo y espejo universal, donde cada uno vea lo que le falta para llegar a ganu tal triunpho, e imites las virtudes y proezas que vee celebradas le aquellos que con tanta gloria alcançavan tal enombre y perpetua fama y vea si es rey, Principe e persona digna de ser hystoriada, que procuren de vivir tant illustre y recatadamente que sus virtudes queden siempre hystoriadas […]’.

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still reminded readers of their Roman heritage. For the entry of Louis XIII into St Jean d’Angély, the record begins: Les Empereurs Romains avoient ceste coustume lorsqu’apres qu’ils avoient gaigné plusieurs batailles et signalees victoires, et qu’il estoit question de faire leur entrée dedans la ville de Rome, ils se faisoient trainer en des superbes et riches chariots, mesme quelquefois par des Lyons, demonstrant qu’ils dominoient toutes sortes de forces telles qu’elles puissent estre.32 [Roman Emperors had the custom after they had won many battles and memorable victories and it was a question of their entry into Rome, they had richly decorated and superb chariots, sometimes even drawn by lions, in order to prove that they were masters of every kind of force whatever that might be]. Thus even entries into tiny cities emulated the spirit of ceremony made famous by the Romans. Their legacy, however, was ambivalent. Celebration was mixed with pathos. The sight of massed weapons of war excited both awe and terror, and the magnificent military display was admired and feared. This ambivalence was present from earliest times where the role of the spectator as a kind of barometer of praise and blame was crucial. Appian reported that the people groaned at the loss of Roman life yet applauded and laughed at the plight of their enemies.33 Some critics have argued that Plutarch was more interested in ‘a recreation of the horrors of war than as a celebration of the joys of victory’, and that this concern with pity influenced Mantegna in his depiction of the Captives (canvas 7) where men, women and children walk in procession with dejected looks and bowed heads.34 Certainly Plutarch had stressed the devastating effect on those who watched the young children of Perseus, oblivious to their fate. It was (he wrote) ‘a sight mixed with sorrow and joy’, for the spectators were conscious that the children could not feel their misery, although their own ‘harts did melt for very pittie’,35 and tears ran down their cheeks. Similarly, Dio Cassius had stressed the ambiguous response of the people who gazed on the effigy of Cleopatra drawn along in the procession in Caesar’s Egyptian triumph.36 The same indeterminacy of meaning is striking, for instance, in the woodcuts which Jörg Breu created as propaganda for the Adventus series commemorating the military parade which marked Emperor Charles V’s entry into Augsburg for the Diet of 1530. The city struggled between Protestant and Catholic interests and the woodcuts, at one and the same time, seemed to assert and contest Habsburg authority. Charles V’s military presence and Catholic power were minimally represented while the high point depicted in the parade seemed to be the Protestant Elector John of Saxony. Breu’s woodcuts offer an interestingly stark contrast to the strong iconographic tradition whereby the City Hall frescoes in Augsburg showed

32 L’entrée royale faite au roi en la ville de Sainct Jean d’Angely, 11 septembre mil siz cent vingt (Paris: Isaac Mesnier, 1620), pp. 3-4. 33 Appian, Roman History. The Civil Wars, T. E. Page and W. H. D. Rouse (eds), (London: Loeb Classical Library, 1913), vol. III, book II, chapter XV, pp. 413-15. 34 Halliday, ‘The Literary Sources’, pp. 190-91. 35 North, Plutarch’s Lives, p. 236; a reaction repeated in full in Biondo’s account, Roma Trionfante, ff. 366v-67v. 36 Dio Cassius, Roman History, ed. Herbert K. Foster (London: Loeb Classical Library, 1917), book II, para 21,1.

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Maximilian I’s successful ancestors and his own triumphal battles and were deliberately designed to blazon forth Habsburg power.37 Military Pomp in Renaissance Triumphs The magnificence of military display and the sounds of war catered for a taste which saw pleasure in depictions of cities under siege. The paintings ordered by Emperor Charles V to record the triumph over the Turks at the siege of Vienna (1529), engraved in a panoramic print by Nicolaus Meldeman [Fig. 1.4.],38 or the representation of the victory of his troops at Ingoldstadt (1549) are examples of the interest in images of belligerence and enjoyment in the expectation of triumph. The cunning engraver of the plates for the entry of Archduke Frederick into Antwerp (1594) recognized the importance of including, in all the images, the presence of spectators admiring both martial displays and their consequences — a feature that was to be copied in Lisbon for the entry there of Philip III in 1619. In cities like Antwerp and Brussels whose freedoms were so important to their citizens, their own visibility and evidence of their support and cooperation were essential. Ambiguous signs of triumph and of the uncertainties of victory had also greeted Henri II, King of France, in his entry into Rouen (1550), where he experienced a military display akin to that of Caesar. He was presented in a double perspective: himself as king watching from an arched pavilion with members of his court watching himself in the procession before him, and as Caesar being crowned by ‘Heureuse Fortune’ in her chariot drawn by unicorns with trumpeters [Plate III]. The following car — The Triumph of Fame — with soldiers carrying banners depicted the recent victories of the King’s armies in Boulogne and Scotland, and showed groups of chained prisoners with sorrowful visages following on behind.39 It is interesting that it is Fortune who holds the crown above the King’s head, for that gesture signals the uncertainty that accompanied all pursuits of conquest. The author of the narrative thus reminds the King of the unpredictability of triumph which had been stressed by Plutarch who had dwelt on the fact that Aemilius had maintained that it was not against swords and pikes that a commander should direct his resolution and valour, but rather against the obstacles put in his way by Fortune.40 With the death of his two sons coinciding with 37 For an analysis of the meaning of Breu’s woodcuts in the context of the religious conflict which beset the city of Augsburg in 1530, see Pia Cuneo, Art and Politics in Early Modern Germany: Jörg Breu the Elder and the Fashioning of Political Identity, ca. 1475–1536 (Leiden: Brill, 1998). 38 The plan was initially drawn by a local painter who had climbed to the top of St Stephens’ Cathedral to capture a view of all the Turkish forces; reproduced in David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470–1550 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1994), pp. 226-27. 39 A facsimile of the original text with introduction by myself, L’Entrée de Henri II à Rouen 1550. Renaissance Triumphs and Magnificences (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974). Triumphal cars of this kind were an unusual feature in princely entries except in the Ommegang in the Netherlands where they were the principal form of representation and in Spain, in Toledo (1560), for example, where ‘quattro carros trionfales’ constituted the single mode of congratulation and celebration, S. Horozco y Covarrubias, Relación y memoria de la entrada en esta ciudad de Toledo[…] año de 1561; Sociedad de Bibliofilos Españoles: ‘Relaciones históricas de dos siglos XVI y XVII’, vol. 32 (Madrid: 1896). 40 North, Plutarch’s Lives, pp. 238-39. For a study on the role of Fortune in political affairs, Florence Buttay-Jutier, Fortuna. Usages politiques d’une allégorie morale à la Renaissance (Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris-Sorbonne, 2008).

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his triumph, Aemilius, the conqueror and triumphator, provided a supreme example of man’s misery and weakness. However admiring the crowd might be of displays of military power (heightened in princely entries in Poland where the procession of hundreds of magnificent troops was regularly linked to the strength of the 'Jagiellonian'dynasty), the sight of massed weapons of destruction aroused fear as well as pride. Rome had trembled as Charles VIII came by night in December 1494 to enter the city with his army; the citizens were frightened by the show of military might exhibited by Henry VIII as he rode triumphantly into Tournai (1513); and Emperor Charles V surrounded by 5000 infantry, his armed guard of 300 halberdiers and a further 400 mounted cavalry made his triumphal entry into Florence (1536) as though he were invading the city,41 as the French King Charles VIII had done in 1494. Ferdinand I had made no bones about his belligerent intentions when he was crowned King of Hungary and of Bohemia in November 1527. After the coronation, astride a white charger, he mounted a hill, unsheathed his sword and holding it naked in his hand waved it to all parts of his lands, thus signalling his purpose — that of defending his realm against Turks and against any other enemy that threatened his ownership.42 Similar feelings of terror were aroused throughout Europe in this period as princes visited towns in force in order to display their power. In Orléans (1560), François II arrived as though he were a conqueror rather than as the traditional father of his people. The historian Jean-Auguste de Thou described the terrifying spectacle thus: Cette pompe militaire répandit la terreur dans l’esprit des bourgeois […] on avait placé les corps de gardes dans toutes les rues et dans toutes les places, et il sembloit que l’on se préparât à soutenir un siège.43 [This military pomp spread terror into the minds of the people of the town […] guards had been placed along all the streets and in every square, and it seemed as though a siege was being prepared]. Louis XIII went to Bordeaux to marry Anne d’Autriche in 1615 accompanied by a great army, and was pursued by another army led by the Prince de Condé who bitterly opposed the Spanish match.44 Later in his reign, the King entered Montpellier (1622) as a defeated city. Princes sometimes borrowed the triumphal entry model to signal, somewhat ostentatiously, the coming of a new order. Thus Alfonso I, King of Naples, entered the city in triumph in 1443 passing beneath a stone arch depicting the chariot of a Triumphator. Although the military display was typically impressive, the King had ordered that no captives and no spoils should be exhibited in the procession, recognizing — as his 41 La gloriosa et triumphale Entrata di Carlo V (Rome: A. Blado, 1536); Charles VIII had 10,000 troops when he entered Florence in 1494, see Sandra Provins, ‘Les Entrées de Charles VIII à Chieri et à Florence en 1494 vues par André de la Vigne’, in John Nassichuk (ed.), Vérité et fiction dans les entrées solennelles à la Renaissance et à l’âge classique (Quebec: Presses de l’Université de Laval, 2009), pp. 63-86. 42 La triumphante entrée et couronnement de Ferdinand de la Royale majesté de Hunguerie et de Boëme à Stoel et Wittenberg le 13e de novembre 1527 (Antwerp: Guillaume Dosterman, 1527). 43 Jacques-Auguste de Thou, Histoire universelle, 16 vols, book XXVI [1560], p. 560. 44 See the contributions in Margaret M. McGowan (ed.), Dynastic Marriages, 1612/1615: A Celebration of the Habsburg and Bourbon Unions (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013).

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Figure 1.3. Mantegna: The Triumph of Caesar, engraved Andrea Andreani (1499), panel 9.

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Figure 1.4. The Siege of Vienna, 1529, engraved by Nicolaus Meldeman.

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chronicler reported — that although kingdoms were won by armed strength, they are maintained by gentleness and clemency.45 Well over a century later, similar ceremonies took place in the Netherlands with very different results. The entry of the Duc d’Anjou into Antwerp in 1582 was also conceived as a political ceremony, as the transfer of sovereignty from the hated Spanish into the hands of a Duke capable of rescuing Antwerp from the ‘trahisons, perfidies, soubçons, medisances et calomnies’ of the ruling Spanish invaders, and as the bringer of peace and prosperity. The preface to the account of the occasion is littered with references to war and its miseries, and the harangue of the town councillor Hessels, who greeted the duke at the first arch, was couched in anti-Spanish terms emphasizing their insatiable greed, their hatred, their immoderate and dominating power. An army of 3000 soldiers guarded the city, while the Prince was protected not only by regiments of armed citizens, which were supplemented by his own large bodyguard, but also by the foot soldiers belonging to the Prince of Orange.46 The Duke’s entry into Ghent, in August 1582, carried the same message: hopes for peace and for the kind of reconciliation that it was thought the Duke had achieved between his brother, Henri III, King of France, and members of the Reformed Church: through him, they hoped to bring about a renewal of their ancient liberties.47 Although both projects to change the political climate were failures (principally through the incompetence of Anjou himself, incapable of rising above the complex and hostile forces that confronted him), belief in the transformative power of entry ceremonies was not diminished as will be seen from our later discussions of such festivals in the Netherlands. Charles V’s Entry into Bologna — Defender of the Faith The grandest and most celebrated of military entries was that of Emperor Charles V into Bologna in November 1529 on the occasion of his forthcoming coronation by Pope Clement VII on 24 February 1530. Preparations for the event had been meticulous since the entry into the city was to be the highpoint of imperial political strategy, and it is therefore necessary to understand the context of such a remarkable occasion. The sack of Rome in 1527 had spread fear throughout Italy, and small states were terrified that the Emperor would extend his power by absorbing even more territory under his control. Guicciardini, in a letter to Pope Clement VII, had warned that the Emperor ‘will want to come to Rome for the Imperial crown: it would be foolish not to expect it…because with 45 Bartolomeo Fazi, De Rebus Gestis ab Alfonso Primo, book VII, pp. 107 ff., cited in Ellen Callmann, ‘The Triumphal Entry into Naples of Alfonso I’, Apollo, 109, January (1979), 24-31. For this personalization of the Antique Triumph, see Zaho’s discussion, Imago Triumphalis, pp. 46-63, and for the use of past imperial imagery, chapter 2 of Joana Barreto’s thesis, La Majesté en images. Portraits du pouvoir dans la Naples des Aragon, Collection de l’école française de Rome (Rome, 2013), pp. 45-109. 46 La Joyeuse et Magnifique Entrée de Monseigneur Françoys[…] Duc de Brabant, d’Anjou[…] en sa tres-renommée ville d’Anvers (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1582); a facsimile edition with critical introduction by Helen Purkis was published in the series Renaissance Triumphs and Magnificences (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974). This entry, together with that of Archduke Matthias into Brussels in 1578, have rightly been described ‘ceremonies of defiance’, Thofner, chapter 5 in A Common Art, pp. 115-45. 47 L’Entrée magnifique de monseigneur François, fils de France […] Comte de Flandres […] faicte en la Metropolitaine et fameuse ville de Gand, le 20e aoust, 1582 (Ghent: Cornille de Rekenure, 1582).

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Figure 1.5. Entry of Charles V into Bologna (1529), engraved by Nicolas Hogenburg.

this trip he will double his power and reputation’.48 In fact, despite the temptation to be crowned in Rome, it would have been dangerous for Charles V to have travelled so far

48 Guicciardini, Discorsi, p. 377, cited by Thomas James Dandelet, The Renaissance of Empire in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 93-95.

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south, with Turks at the door of Vienna, and northern Italian states still in an unsettled condition. Bologna, therefore, was selected and the Emperor started on his journey from Barcelona in July 1529. In Genoa, over which François Ier had abandoned all rule and who had acknowledged Charles V’s right to the kingdom of Naples and to that of Milan (treaty of Cambrai, 3 August, 1529), the Emperor appeared accompanied by 2000 horsemen and 12,000 foot soldiers. No one could doubt his desire to demonstrate his power visually, and he was gratified to be termed ‘Ruler of the World’ on the monuments erected to greet him. After a triumphal journey, he arrived in Bologna in early November.49 On the fifth day of the month he formally entered the city to be received by twenty-five cardinals and 400 men at arms. His own cortège was immense: 300 light horsemen; Spanish knights flaunting banners and standards marked with imperial devices; 300 knights fully armed; ten cannons drawn along on weighty carts; fourteen regiments of German troops followed by drums and pipes. The imperial standards and those of Burgundy were introduced by Adrien le Croy who led in the cavalry followed by a company of Spanish knights leading the 100 footmen of the Emperor’s personal guard [Fig. 1.5.]. The imperial sword was displayed before Charles V himself who entered fully armed, his helm topped with a golden imperial eagle. His evident imperial credentials were echoed in the statues which lined his route. Caesar, Augustus, Titus and Trajan, victorious Emperors in their own right, were there to do him honour; and, on the first arch were Constantine and Charlemagne perched high upon columns to reinforce his pedigree. Paolo Giovio who was present reported on the terrible splendour of the arms and on the boldness of the whole show: ‘quanto terribile per lo splendor dell’armi et per la bravura dell’aspetto’.50 All the vast territories over which Charles V reigned were represented in the procession. A strong military presence also accompanied the coronation: 2000 Spanish soldiers were on duty in front of San Petronio and 400 landsknecht guarded the temporary bridge which had been built from the palace to the steps of the Church so that spectators could have an uninterrupted view of the ceremony.51 The spectacle of power, of military and political dominance was intended not only to impress and to provoke terror, it was also interpreted as offering strong visible evidence of the potential deliverance of the Catholic world from the dangers of heresy whether represented by Protestants and the various sects that were spawning in the German lands, or as experienced by the constant invasions by Ottomans into Hungary, Lithuania, Austria, Africa and along the coasts of Italy and Spain. Charles V was seen as the defender of the 49 For an analysis of the political background to the entry, see Vicomte Terlinden, ‘La politique italienne de Charles Quint et le “Triomphe de Boulogne”’, in Jean Jacquot (ed.), Fêtes de la Renaissance II. Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1960), pp. 29-43. The Emperor’s entry into Genoa (1529) had created a new phase in the use of imperial symbolism for propaganda purposes, for an analysis of this entry and Charles V’s second visit to Genoa in 1533, see Federica Natta, Festa e spettacolo nella Genova del Cinquecento (Bari: edizione di pagina, 2011), especially pp. 37-92. 50 Paolo Giovio, Storia, II, p. 128, cited in full by Dandelet, The Renaissance of Empire, p. 95: ‘If one compares his triumphal entry into Aachen on the occasion of his coronation there as Holy Roman Emperor where Charles V was accompanied only by his bodyguard, the political strategies behind the Bologna entry become even clearer’. 51 For the grand procession into the city after the coronation, see the thirty-three sheets engraved by Nicolaus Hogenberg (The Hague: Hendrik Hondius II, 1530–1536). The sets of paintings and engravings recording this event have been brought together in La Imagen: Triunfal del Emperador, published by the Sociedad Estatal para la commemoración de los centarios de Felipe II y Carlos V (Madrid: [n. pub.], 2000).

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Faith, the slayer of heretics, the conqueror over infidels and the saviour of those primitive natives newly discovered in distant lands. The entry into Bologna represented the peak of the Emperor’s supremacy. Yet the concerns which observers of the entry hoped would be resolved by the vast armies of the Emperor were not to be realized. Protestant sects continued to flourish and multiply in the Empire, and despite Charles’ defeat of the Turks in North Africa (his victory at Tunis in 1536), Ottomans still made inroads into Christian territories for decades, while both princes and civic corporations in entry ceremonies persisted in using such festivals as a means of simultaneously expressing hopes for peace and displaying the horrors of war. Princes recognized their insecurity and that magnificence was a fragile political tool. Religious conflicts obsessed the minds of creators of princely entries. Ottoman power, in particular, impressed and dismayed them. The vast numbers of Turkish troops, their determined will, their visible pride, the magnificence of their arms and the spectacular nature of their dress tempted imitation and aggression. The enduring character of this obsession can be found not only in the jubilation across Europe after the glorious naval victory at Lepanto (1571) which, remained a focal point on triumphal arches until the end of the century.52 It had been celebrated immediately in the entry into Rome offered by its citizens in 1571 to Marcantonio Colonna who appeared there as a military hero.53 The extensive procession of the glorious military triumph saw arches decorated with spoils, with the glittering weapons of destruction belonging to the enemy, their ‘dardi, scimitane, turbanti’ and such like booty. Most unusual were the many depictions of ships, all broken up, disarmed, useless, and filled with abandoned weapons, alongside the vases of gold and silver captured in the battle. Most eloquent of all was the figure of Pasquino, a mute yet speaking source of Roman merriment, with a shield signifying not only the virtue and prudence of the Christian cause but also the speed and quality of the victory (‘non solo la virtù, et, la prudenza di nostri ma la prestezza, e qualità de la vittoria ancora’). The statue had at its right a naked sword and, at the left, the bloody head of the Ottoman Emperor, Selim, with a large gash imprinted on his forehead. It was in this way that the organisers sought to imply that the empire of the Turks had received a mortal wound from which it would never recover. The Turkish threat provided the justification for war and for victorious celebration in Rome (1571). In addition to the newly created arches described in detail by Tassolo and Baldassare, and fashioned according to them in conformity with ancient forms,54 was the use made of existing monuments from the past. The procession, starting at the gate of San

52 In the market place in Valencia (1585), a huge painting represented the triumph of Don John of Austria at Lepanto, one of the many victories of the Spanish crown recorded on this occasion: ‘un tablado grande, y en el puestas muchas galleras que representaban la battala naval y la insigne victoria que el señor don Juan de Austria tavo año de 1571 […]’, Henrique Cock, Añales des año 1585, p. 231, Alfredo Morel Fatio and Antonio Rodriguez Villa (eds), Relación del viaje hecho por Felipe II en 1585 a Zaragoza, Barcelona y Valencia (Madrid: Imprenta estereo tipia y galva, de Ails an yea, 1876). 53 Domenico Tassolo and Baldassare Mariotti, I Trionfi, feste, et livree fatte dalli signori conservatori, e Popolo Romano, e da tutte le atti di Roma, nella felicissima, et honorata entrata dell’Illustrissimo Signor Marcantonio Colonna (Venice: [n. pub.], 1571), unpaginated. 54 Tassolo and Mariotti, I Trionfi, ‘L’ordine tenuto in farla non firmotto dissimile d’à trionfi, overo orationi antiche e sarebbe stato forse conforme’.

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Sebastiano, moved along the Appian way towards the arches of Constantine, Septimus Severus and Titus. On these memorials to past glories were new inscriptions emphasizing the parallels between the present triumph and those of earlier victorious Emperors.55 Classical prototypes lived on, consciously present in the imaginative reconstructions of Renaissance artists, but they also served another purpose — that of reinforcing that double message of triumph and defeat, of victory and suffering, of adaptability and change. These ambivalent attitudes will form the focus of future chapters where it will be argued that although both citizens and princes clearly relished the sight of well-ordered columns of soldiers and weapons, they also had good cause to apprehend displays of military force and reminders of violence, since for most decades in the sixteenth century wars had dominated European states; and when peaceful moments of respite did come, there awaited in the East the threat of Turkish ambitions for conquest. It is not surprising, therefore, that alongside spectacular shows of victory sat expressions of despair, scenes showing the aftermath of war; poverty, disease and ruins; and an abiding sense of betrayal, calumny, hatred and greed.

55 On the long tradition of borrowing from ancient monuments to create anew, Maria Hansen Fabricius, The Eloquence of Appropriation: Prolegomena to Understanding of Spolia in Early Christian Rome, Analecta Romana Instituli Danici. Supplementum 33 (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2003).

Chapter II

The Phantom of Empire

It was, of course, not possible to create an empire without conquest and the monuments erected for princely entries and dynastic propaganda reflected both the victory and the violence required to sustain the reality as well as the phantom of imperialism. References to imperialism were widespread. Expressed in the words and artworks of princely entries, through maps and tapestry designs, and in the political literature of the time, they reflected the rival claims to military and territorial dominance by emperor Charles V, Suleyman the Magnificent and a succession of French kings, notably François Ier, Henri II and Charles IX. Aspirations for Empire Empire has been understood in diverse ways. For the Romans, it was a rule based on military achievement, publicly recognized by civil and martial authorities.1 Subsequently new elements were added to its meaning. For Julius Caesar, on the occasion of his Spanish triumph, the title of liberator of the city of Rome was added to that of Triumphator, and this change was signalled on Mantegna’s final panel by the open hand hovering over the model of the city carried before Caesar seated in his chariot [Fig. 1.3]. Following his reign, and according to Suetonius, imperium became hereditary, and by the time of Septimus Severus (ad 203), after his victories against the Parthians, the concept of empire could be used as a means of legitimizing the dynasty — as was clearly indicated on his arch.2 All these elements were exploited by artists and poets for the benefit of Renaissance princes, and they supplemented them by using Virgil’s poems to impress imperial renewal upon their patrons. Thus the Fourth Eclogue, which had set forth the return of Saturn and the Golden Age as the mark of peace and posterity achieved by Emperor Augustus, was transferred to the Visconti in Milan and to the D’Este family in Ferrara.3 Its messages, more precisely applied, were on the architraves and inscriptions created to honour the King of France, Henri II, when he entered Lyon in triumph (1548) where the arch of Honour and Virtue carried a frieze around its summit depicting the



1 For an analysis of these origins, J. Gagé, ‘La théologie de la victoire impériale’, Revue historique, 172, fasc. I (1933), 1-34; and Peter H. Wilson, The Holy Roman Empire: A Thousand Years of Europe’s History (London: Allen Lane, 2016). 2 A process clarified by Richard Brilliant, ‘The Arch of Septimus Severus in the Roman Forum’, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome, 29 (1967), pp. 271 ff., and Anthony S. Halliday, ‘The Literary Sources’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Venturi, La Corte di Mantova, pp. 187-96. 3 For this mode of glorification, L. B. T. Houghton, ‘Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue in the Political Panegyric of the Italian Courts’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 78 (2015), 71-95.

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Figure 2.1. Device of Emperor Charles V.

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triumphs of Caesar and where the inscriptions throughout owed their inspiration to Virgil’s epic. On the trophy at the Griffin, for example, Time and Fame adapted Jupiter’s speech to Venus, promising that no bounds would be set on the empire of Romulus, and Fame’s inscription read: ‘Unum quem video Fama super aethera notum’.4 Henri II was now to assume that imperial mantle which had once belonged to Aeneas’ line. The same claim was to be attributed to Philip III when he entered Lisbon (1619) and encountered a statue depicting himself as Majesty. Having inherited the virtues of Emperors (old and new), he was blessed by Astraea who, repeating Virgil’s famous lines, pronounced the return of the Golden Age.5 Claims for imperial status were signalled through devices and mottoes as well as by a prince’s regalia, and such ambitions went back a long way. Already in the fifteenth century French kings were depicted wearing the closed imperial crown. Similarly, Henry VII of England used it on his coinage and even had it imprinted on his tableware, for as Cuthbert Tunstall explained (c. 1489), ‘the crown of England is an Empire of itself…for which cause your Grace weareth a close [closed] crown’.6 His flamboyant heir Henry VIII, naturally adopted the closed crown on his coins with the royal arms engraved on the reverse; and to advertise his imperial claims even further, for his coronation, the roof of the enchanted castle created at Westminster in June 1509 was surmounted by a crown imperial.7 For the Emperor Charles V, whose aspirations to empire had been nurtured by his chancellor Mercurino Gattinara (who had strengthened his persuasion by reference to Dante’s De monarchia),8 the imperial attributes were the eagle with its wings spread over the world. Charles V’s most famous device — adopted from 1530, but apparently displayed as early as 1516 when the order of the Golden Fleece assembled in Brussels9 — was the two pillars of Hercules standing at the threshold of the limits of the known world and inviting discovery beyond those limits. His motto ‘Plus ultra’ [Even Further] implied both unlimited territorial dominion and the capacity to reach beyond oneself. Finally he, too, adopted the closed imperial crown [Fig. 2.1.].



4 Richard Cooper has studied in detail the role of inscriptions in this entry in his critical introduction to a facsimile edition of Maurice Scève, The Entry of Henri II into Lyon, September 1548 (Tempe: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1997), pp. 62-78. 5 Described by Juan Bautista Lavanha, Viage de la Católica Real Magestad del Rey Don Felipe III N.S. al Reino de Portugal I relación del Solemne recibimiento que en él se le hizo (Madrid: Thomas Iunti, 1622), f. 6. 6 Cited in C. E. Challis, The Tudor Coinage (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1978), p. 51. 7 Sydney Anglo, The Great Tournament Roll of Westminster (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1967), p. 46. 8 On Gattinara’s influence, see Denis Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 46-47, and Harald Kleinschmidt, Charles V: The World Emperor (Stroud: Sutton, 2004), p. 82. 9 According to S. Sider, ‘Transcendent symbols for the Habsburgs; Plus Ultra and the Columns of Hercules’, Emblematica IV (1989), 257-72. Höltger attributes its design to the scholar Ludovico Marliano, Karl Josef Höltger, ‘The Ruler between two Columns: Imperial Aspiration and Political Iconography from the Emperor Charles V to William of Orange’, in Michael Bath, Pedro Campa and Daniel Russell (eds), Emblem Studies in Honor of Peter M. Daly (Baden-Baden: Koerner, 2002), pp. 143-213.

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Both the crown and control over the known world thus belonged to the Emperor. The arguments supporting such claims had been published by Petrus Aedigius [Peter Gillis] in his learned Hypotheses on Charles V’s entry into Antwerp (1520). There, he elucidated the meaning of the symbolism on the thirteen arches erected to celebrate the Emperor’s recent coronation at Aachen as Holy Roman Emperor. From the first, Charles was depicted as the living image of God (‘imago animata Deo’), and as he rode through the city he saw figures embodying the virtues and vices, exposing views on good and bad government. When he came before the last arch, on its monumental structure he saw himself in all his Imperial Majesty, as ruler of the four parts of the known world who bowed down before him, acknowledging his supremacy. Here was his apotheosis — a vision of divine being; one who brings new light to shine upon the earth, with sweet peace and the return of the Golden Age.10 Emperor Charles V’s motto and device were regularly displayed in public places: on the arch, for instance, which greeted him at the gate of Nuremberg in 1541, where a large brick construction surmounted by two statues with the imperial eagle erected at the summit — a structure devised by Peter Flötner (c. 1490–1546) from a design by Georg Penz (c. 1500–1550).11 The most eloquent portrayal of Charles V’s imperial personage was, however, penned by a Frenchman — the historian Jacques Auguste de Thou (1553–1617) who recalled the sight of the Emperor crossing the Elbe in 1547. Setting out to triumph, Charles V was garbed in armour of gold with a red velvet scarf thrown round his body, echoing his horse’s brilliant red and gold fringed coat: ‘On l’eût pris pour le grand César, qui passant autrefois le Rubicon, rejettoit toute condition de paix, et ne vouloit que vaincre’ [One would have taken him for the great Caesar, who (in times past) crossed the Rubicon, rejecting all overtures of peace, as he only wished to conquer]. With determination written on his visage and grafted on his accoutrements, the Emperor could not fail.12 His son, Philip II, inherited many of his father’s attributes, although he never attained the majestic presence of the Emperor himself. In France, Henri II also sported a closed imperial crown, while his personal device was in the shape of a half moon with the motto ‘Donec Totum Impleat Orbem’ [Till he replenish the whole world]. The motto had been devised by Gabriel Symeoni with the explicit intention of asserting the King’s imperial status [Fig. 2.2.].13 His son, Charles IX, naturally appropriated the imperial crown. Initially, he had as his device two twisted columns which flanked the figure of Majesty with his personal motto ‘Pietate et Justicia’ [Piety and Justice] — a design clearly seen on the theatre at the

10 An epigram summed up the apotheosis: ‘PAX simul alma QUIES / Lumen Apollo novum reddit / CAROLUS, Europa gloria magna […]’, p. 216, Hypotheses sive argumenta spectaculorum quae Caes. Carolo […] fides et amor civitatis Antwerpicus (1611), printed in Marquard Freher, Rerum Germanicorum Scriptores, 3 vols (Frankfurt: Hanoviae, 1717), vol. III, pp. 205-16. 11 Discussed in F. Checa Cremades, Carlos V. La imagen del poder en el Rinacimiento (Madrid: El Viso, 1999), pp. 18-20. For the origins and interpretation of Charles V’s device, E. Rosenthal, ‘Plus ultra, non plus ultra, and the Columner Device of Emperor Charles V’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 34 (1971), 204-28. 12 De Thou, Histoire, I, p. 243 (1547). 13 See Victor E. Graham, ‘Gabriel Symeoni et le rêve impérial des rois de France’, in Louis Terreaux (ed.), Culture et pouvoir au temps de l’Humanisme et de la Renaissance. Actes du congrès de Marguerite de France (Geneva/Paris: Droz, 1978), pp. 299-310.

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Figure 2.2. Device of King Henri II.

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Figure 2.3. King Charles IX in triumphal car (1571), drawing Nicolò dell’Abate.

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Châtelet created for his royal entry into the capital (1571). These twisted columns did not find favour with the King. For the present which the city of Paris offered him on this occasion, Charles IX discovered that the same twisted forms were to be the basis of the model. He ordered at once that they should be straightened. He wanted his columns to be indistinguishable from Charles V’s pillars of Hercules. The city archives reveal that the silversmith, Jean Regnard, was instructed to recast the columns ‘qui estoient torses’ [that were twisted] and to make them ‘droites’ [straight] and to make the design more warlike, so that depictions of the four recent victories of the King’s armies were added to the base of the structure.14 Imperial claims were always accompanied by images of recent triumphs which, inevitably, also highlighted the slaughter that went hand in hand with victory, as can be seen from Nicolò dell’Abate’s drawing (c. 1571) of the young King Charles IX’s entry into Paris. He appears on a chariot surrounded by the symbols of triumph: holding a laurel branch (sign of victory), and sitting among trophies and flags above wheels that carry spoils, arms and swags of victory. Soldiers follow behind bearing signs of triumph while the god Mars, with shield and sword, leads the procession perched below the King at the front of the chariot [Fig. 2.3.]. Conscious rivalry was evident in Charles IX’s commands for change as he pursued the strategies of competition which had been a fundamental part of his father’s policy. By the time his brother, Henri III, came to the throne, French royal and imperial ambitions craved even greater renown. The King adopted as his device ‘Manet ultimo coelo’, which was considered by contemporary experts to be a supreme example of the genre as it was deemed to express more than imperial power in the mortal world. It was also a preparation for a celestial crown that awaited the King.15 In 1548–1549, as Philip, future King of Spain, paraded through Northern Italy, through the German States and through Flanders, he was received at every stopping place with elaborate arches whose symbolism encouraged fresh, imperial endeavours. Indeed, as Sylvène Edouard has remarked, this journey constituted a perfect transcription of contemporary imperial ideology.16 At the same time, Henri II was visiting cities throughout his realm, receiving at each the spectacle of triumphant structures that spoke victorious outcomes. In the real world, away from the aspirational and imaginary world of triumphs, Emperor Charles V and King Henri II were constantly engaged in war against each other: in their

14 Reported in L. Cimber and F. Danjou, Archives curieuses de la France, Series I, vol. 3 (Paris: 1835), pp. 427-63, ‘Préparatifs pour l’entrée’. For an analysis of the relevance of architectural design to the image of the King, and its echoes in the drawings of Antoine Caron, see Yves Pauwels, ‘L’architecture et ses représentations: miroirs de Charles IX’, in Luisa Capodieci, Estelle Leutrat and Rebecca Zorach (eds), Miroirs de Charles IX. Images, imaginaires, symbolique (Geneva: Droz, 2018), pp. 125-37. 15 For an exhaustive analysis of Henri III’s device, Nuccio Ordine, ‘Manet ultima coelo: i misteri dell’impresa di Enrico III’, in Dilwyn Knox and Nuccio Ordine (eds), Renaissance Letters and Learning: In Memoriam Giovanni Aquilecchia, Warburg Institute Colloquia, 19 (2012), pp. 155-79. On the general topic of absolute power and its shifting nature, see Arlette Jouanna, Le pouvoir absolu. Naissance de l’imaginaire politique de la royauté (Paris: Gallimard, 2012). 16 Sylvène Edouard, L’Empire imaginaire de Philippe II. Pouvoir des images et discours du pouvoir sous les Habsbourgs d’Espagne au XVIe siècle (Paris: Champion, 2005), p. 69: ‘Le “Très-heureux voyage” du Prince est une parfaite transcription de l’idéologie impériale de l’époque’. For studies on prince Philip’s journey across Europe, Margaret M. McGowan and Margaret E. Shewring (eds), Charles V, Prince Philip and the Politics of Succession: Imperial Festivities in Mons and Hainault, 1549 (Turnhout: Brepols [in press]).

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own territories, in Italy and on the seas. The imperial signs which accompanied their journeys provided another way of competing while, at the same time, encouraging them to further martial efforts.17 Charles IX, holding in his hands the globe of the world in the opening lines of Pierre de Ronsard’s epic poem La Franciade, also embarked on a two-year journey around France in 1564–1566. The purpose was to introduce the young King to his subjects in the faraway places of his realm, to quell the ferment of Protestant rebellion that threatened to break out in the south of the country, and to parley with representatives from Philip II at the Spanish border. The French cities which he entered, fully armed and guarded by many troops, received him royally and, on the temporary structures which they built to greet him, they had painted imperial symbols expressing their hopes from this young monarch whose future triumphs would bring lasting peace, and put an end to the atrocities experienced everywhere as religious strife touched every corner of the land.18 The memory of an imperial crown associated with the globe of the world was long-lasting. For the visit of Philip III into Lisbon (1619), on the arch designed by the goldsmiths and sculptors, the king could admire the arms of Spain with his imperial crown placed prominently upon the globe of the universe, its message of power being reinforced on the next arch (the responsibility of the silversmiths) which connected the imperial crown and the globe to the genealogical tree of the Spanish dynasty.19 Such hopes and pretensions were also to be found in Eastern Europe. Emperor Rudolf II, brought up at the Spanish court, was enamoured of spectacle in all its forms, and — as a matter of course — adopted all the signs of imperial status. His portrait, commissioned in 1603 from Aegidius Sadeler (1570–1629), is remarkable in this context for, although the emperor never went into battle, he is depicted with a goat [Almathea] and eagle poised above his head at the top of the frame, denoting his spiritual descent from Emperor Augustus and from Jupiter. Beneath him are Turks burdened by chains between whom, on the plinth, can be detected battle scenes and trophies. The goddess of Victory looms overhead, while Fortune and Bellona flank the visage of this Emperor who, though often shown wearing full armour, never personally experienced the terrors of war [Fig. 2.4.].20 For his part, Suleyman the Magnificent had commissioned in Venice a set of regalia that was intended to rival both pope and Habsburg emperors, and the copies of papal tiara and other imperial signs were widely circulated in prints and pamphlets where the sultan’s pretensions were often satirized in accompanying verses.21

17 For an overview of this rivalry, Yves Pauwels, ‘Les entrées de 1549 en France et en Flandres: réalité éphémère, fiction pérenne’, in Nassichuk, Vérité et fiction, pp. 107-16. 18 Victor Graham and William McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour of France by Charles IX and Catherine de’ Medici: Festivals and Entries, 1564-66 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1979). 19 Described in detail by Kubler, ‘Archiducal Flanders’, pp. 182-84; his analysis is based on an official manuscript account written by Lavanha, Viaje de la Católica Real, f. 9 and f. 11. 20 See Eliska Fucikova, James M. Bradburne, Beket Bukovinska, Jaroslava Hansenblasova, Lumomir Konechy, Ivan Muchka, and Michal Sronek (eds) of the catalogue: Rudolf II and Prague: The Court and the City (London: Thames and Hudson, Skira, 1997), p. 127. 21 See G. Necipoglu, ‘Suleyman the Magnificent and the Representation of Power in the Context of OttomanHapsburg-Papal Rivalry’, The Art Bulletin, 71 (1989), 401-27.

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Figure 2.4. Emperor Rudolf II (1603), engraved Aedigius Sadeler.

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Rivalry, transferability of the image of empire and fluidity in its use are dominant features in princely entries. When the French King, Charles VIII, arrived in Florence at the head of his army in 1508, Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499) delivered an oration in his honour in which, comparing the king to both Caesar and Charlemagne, he uttered these words: Charles the invincible has so excelled that saying of Caesar’s (which was great in expression, but greater still in deed): ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’, that he can truly say ‘Barely have I arrived, I have hardly yet seen and already I have conquered.22 The change of tenses, so cleverly managed by Ficino, must have been terrifying in its impact, implying as it did that Charles VIII’s conquests were not over, and that there was more bloodshed to come. Ficino, no doubt, remembered that this same King when he had entered Naples some years before (1495) had carried in his hand a golden globe of the world and sported a golden crown ‘à l’impériale’.23 The interconnections between sixteenth-century princes’ imperial claims and the fame of Roman emperors can be appreciated most clearly in the entry of Emperor Charles V into Rome in 1536 after his victory over the Turks at Goletta, although he had been anticipated by Maximilian I’s attempts to establish an unbroken succession of Empire linking himself back to Julius Caesar, and — at the same time — emphasizing the German character of Empire.24 Charles V, following the ancient via Triumphalis, entered the city which had been partially cleared of the chaotic ruins of old structures that had accumulated over the years, while his own achievement was prominently displayed in 1536 on the arch at the Palace Gate (whose design had been prepared by Baldassare Peruzzi, 1481–1536). There Charles, invested with the twin mantles of Augustus and Constantine, had secured this honourable state by virtue of his new title ‘terror of the Infidel’ (‘la terreur et paour des Mahomatains’), as Ceffino — author of the French account of the occasion — termed it.25 Throughout his triumphal passage through the city, the Emperor paid attention to the detail of the arches, those newly created and those that had graced Rome for centuries. He delighted in gazing on the arch of Constantine, remembering the glory of this predecessor, 22 Ficino’s speech is discussed in detail by Robert W. Scheller, ‘Imperial Themes in Art and Literature of the Early French Renaissance: the Period of Charles VIII’, Simiolus, 12 (1981–1982), 5-69. Charles VIII heard the same formula at Lucca on 22 April 1508; ‘Veni, vidi, vici, Alter Caesar’, ibid., 33. 23 A vision remembered by Volker Hoffman, ‘Donec totum impleat orbem: symbolisme impérial au temps de Henri II’, Bulletin de la Société de l’art français (1978), 29-42. 24 For Maximilian’s claims, consult Silver, Marketing Maximilian, especially chapter 3, ‘Translation of Empire’, pp. 77-108. 25 Z. Ceffino, La triumphante entrée de l’Empereur nostre Sire Charles le 5e […] en sa noble cité de Rome (Antwerp: I. Steelsius, 1536). For a discussion of the transformations in Rome as preparation for the entry, see Dorothée Marciak, La Place du prince. Perspective et pouvoir dans le théâtre de cour des Médicis, Florence (1539–1600) (Paris: Champion, 2005), chapter 3, pp. 125-68; especially, pp. 125-29; and Richard Cooper, ‘A New Sack of Rome? Making Space for Charles V in 1536’, in J. R. Mulryne, Krista de Jonge, Pieter Martens and R. L. M. Morris (eds), Architectures of Festival in Early Modern Europe: Fashioning and Re-fashioning Urban and Courtly Space (Oxford and New York: Routledge, 2018), pp. 27-52. On the discovery of an anonymous Flemish drawing confirming the details of the apparati described by Ceffino, see Burton L. Dunbar III, ‘A Rediscovered Sixteenth-Century Drawing of the Vatican with Constructions for the entry of Charles V into Rome’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 23, no. 2 (1992), 195-204. It is important to note the anxieties expressed by some observers regarding the preparations for this entry which included the demolition of the Temple of Peace, interpreted by Guillaume du Bellay (for instance) as a ‘mauvaise augure’ [bad omen] and an attempt to assign peace to oblivion, Les Mémoires de Messire Guillaume du Bellay, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 5, pp. 293-417 (p. 304).

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and on that of Titus, conscious all the while that his triumph was a re-enactment of theirs. Ceffino faithfully recorded: ‘ne se resioya a S.M. point moins de ceste deuxiesme triumphe qu’il ne fist de la premiere’. The Emperor stopped to study the inscriptions, calling a halt in order to ‘considerer ce que les lettres contenoient qui y estoient en escript’ and moreover, required the conservatores, dressed in Roman togas as if they were real Senators, to walk beside his horse in order to interpret the meaning of both the antiquities and the signs and inscriptions on the arches created for himself.26 The same message resonated on his journey through Italy: in Naples and Messina, in Lucca and at Florence (28 April, 1536), where the arches told the story of the Emperor’s triumph at Tunis and the routing of the Turks, and linked these victories very closely to his coronation as King of the Roman Empire. The account specifically draws attention to the number of Turkish prisoners painted on the structures erected in front of the Strozzi palace — ‘per tutto l’arco in altri varii n’erano depinti prigioni varij de Turchi’ — while on the arch in the Via Maggia, the assault on Tunis was depicted with the flight of Barbarossa together with Emperor Charles V in the guise of Augustus with two Victories representing his dominion over both Africa and Asia.27 This insistence on the achievements of Emperor Charles V against the Turks can be explained by the fears Western Europeans harboured in the face of an implacable enemy whose forces had been so successful in Eastern Europe. It also has something to do with the imperial ambitions of Sultan Suleyman himself (1494–1566) whose military campaigns, annual excursions, and grand strategy had been designed to secure universal kingship for himself. As his Secretary and later his Chancellor, Celalzade Mustafa recounted in his history of his times how the reign of his master, the Sultan, had brought in a new era in which the main actor was the empire itself. His reports are charged with nostalgia: imagining the Empire, claiming supremacy over Christians, and ignoring military reversals such as the siege of Vienna (1529). Only with a recognition of war weariness from the mid 1550s and after Suleyman’s death in 1566 did Ottoman aspirations seem to Europeans less vivid and less threatening.28 Nevertheless, fears of the Turks continued to be expressed on triumphal arches: in Seville in 1570, and (as Guerreiro reported) in the entry of Philip II into Lisbon in 1581 where one arch displayed the King as Defender of the Faith, armed as a soldier of the Catholic Church (reminiscent of the roles attributed to his father, Emperor Charles V), while another showed the world divided into two halves, one reigned over by the Spanish King governing with justice, the other belonging to the ‘Grand Turc’ over

26 Bonner Mitchell, ‘The SPQR in two Roman Festivals of Early and Mid Quattrocento’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 9 (4) (1978), 95-99. 27 La gloriosa et triomphale Entrata, no pagination. Naples had celebrated the emperor’s victory in the same manner where five paintings above the arch at the Porta Capoano displayed ‘l’impresa della Goletta, l’arriva di S.M., il pigliare di detta Goletta, la fuga di Barbarossa et la prisa di Tunis’, Andrea Sala, La triomphale Entrata di Carlo V[…] la inclita citta di Napoli et di Messina (Messina: [n. pub.], 1536), sig. Aiijv. For an overall assessment of the reverberations of Emperor Charles V’s expedition to Africa, S. Deswarte-Rosa, ‘L’expédition de Tunis (1535): images, interprétation, répercussions culturelles’, in B. Bennassar and R. Sauzet (eds), Chrétiens et Musulmans à la Renaissance (Paris: H. Champion, 1998), pp. 75-132. 28 For the detail of these shifts in struggle and strategy, Kaya Sahin, Empire and Power in the Reign of Suleyman: Narrating the Sixteenth-Century Ottoman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).

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whom Philip was destined to triumph.29 Triumph over the Turk thus signalled a world role for the Spanish monarch as López de Hoyos emphasized in his commentary on Philip II’s entry into Madrid (1570) where Emperor Charles V, appeared as the exemplar of the ‘gran trionfo de la republica christiana’.30 It is especially interesting that the Catholic success at the battle of Lepanto continued to inspire Spanish artists until the end of the century as a kind of insurance against any challenge by Turks or Protestants.31 Establishing and promoting such dynastic heritage was of fundamental importance for convincing spectators of the real bonds that connected their princes to renowned, victorious figures from the past, and of their ability to achieve similar feats. So it was that kings of Poland (in 1587 and 1592)32 rode past lines of portraits of their ancestors looking out from the arches; and Margaret of Austria, on her journey to Spain in 1598, admired the ranks of Habsburg princes erected in Milan to impress upon her the distinction of the house into which she was marrying. These ancestors appeared again in Pavia (1599) in the painting representing Eternity where, on the canvas with their names printed beneath, were the shadowy figures of Maximilian I, Charles V, Ferdinand I, Maximilian II, Philip II and ‘d’autres fameux Rois, et Empereurs de la Maison d’Autriche’. Their presence was counterbalanced on other arches by detailed evocations of famous places in the city.33 Similarly, Albert and Isabella were introduced, during their entry into Lille in February 1600, to local heroes as well as to benign portraits of Kings of Spain, former Governors of the Low Countries, and — on the first arch — to Philip II himself, with his wife and daughter.34 The most elaborate and ambitious representation of the Habsburg dynasty came in Antwerp (1635) when Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640) masterminded the triumphal arch of Philip with figures of his ancestors going back to Maximilian I and Mary of Burgundy. Not only were these statues placed high on a portico, behind them at the rear could be seen the signs of the Zodiac, the figures of Jupiter and Juno, the divine origins of this dynasty and the unlimited extent of their power. This spectacle of the Habsburgs was balanced by a portico of twelve Roman emperors, accompanied by the twelve gods who inhabited the forum in Rome [Fig. 2.5.].

29 Juan de Mal Lara, Recibimiento que hizo la muy nobil y muy leal ciudad de Sevilla a la CRM del Rey D. Philippe N.S. (Sevilla: universidad de Sevilla, 1992), p. 192; Alfonso Guerreiro, Das festas que se fizeran na cidade de Lisboa, o entrada del Reyu D. Philippe principio de Portugal (Lisbon: Francesco Correa, 1581), cap. xxx, pp. 106-07; cap. xxxiiii, pp. 116-18. For a discussion of Mal Lara’s text, see Ruiz, A King Travels, pp. 89-97. 30 Lopez de Hoyos, Real apparato y sumptuoso recibimiento, f. 33v. 31 Edouard, L’Empire imaginaire de Philippe II, pp. 132-60. 32 Sigismundi Tertii, Electi Poloniae Cracoviam ingressus (Cracow: Jacobi Siebeneycher, 1587). 33 [Guido Mazenta], Apparato fatto dalla città di Milano per ricevere la seren. Regina D. Margarita d’Austria, Sposa da al Potentiss. Rè di Spagna D. Fillippo III (Milan/Cremona: Barucino de Giovanni, 1599). For a discussion of the balance struck in the account of the entry into Pavia between past glories of the Habsburg dynasty, and remembrance of the city’s notable places, Florence Alazard, ‘Sur le livret relatant l’entrée de Marguerite d’Autriche à Pavie en 1599. Le Prince au service d’une histoire municipale’, in Les Princes et l’Histoire du XIVe au XVIIIe siècles, Chantall Grell, Werner Paravicini and Jürgen Vos (eds) (Bonn: Bouvier Verlag, 1998), pp. 403-18. 34 Jules Houdoy, ‘Joyeuse Entrée d’Albert et d’Isabelle: Lille au 16e siècle d’après des documents inédits’, Bulletin de la Commission historique du département du Nord, 12 (1873), 1-70.

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Figure 2.5. Portico of the Habsburg Dynasty, entry into Antwerp (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden.

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Nothing on this scale of monumentality had been attempted before, and it was this work which the new governor Ferdinand enjoyed the most. Yet the entry is noteworthy for the unity and coherence of its conception and for the conspicuous attempt to keep alive the interlocking nature of current princes’ imperial pretensions with the renown of Roman emperors and their allegedly claimed divine lineage. Ironically, despite the hopes and ambitions for victory, peace and prosperity expressed by the citizens of Antwerp in this sustained magnificence, their city never recovered its past affluence and it fell rapidly into decline. The show of imperial greatness was devoid of practical benefits.35 Disappointing outcomes from representations of imperial power did not discourage their use in the shows put on for ceremonial entries into cities. As Thomas James Dandelet has observed, ‘the dream of a Renaissance of empire…was nothing less than the dominant narrative concerning political life in the early modern period’.36 One example may be cited to illustrate the specific focus that could be adopted. When the King of France, Henri II, entered his capital in June 1549, the first image he saw was that of his device — the crescent moon — which projected from the arch erected at the St Denis gate [Fig. 5.2]. On the next monument, the Corinthian arch in front of St Jacques de l’Hôpital, were two angels holding high the imperial crown signifying, as the narration of the entry itself affirms, that the monarch of the French does not recognize anyone superior to himself on earth — a position he holds direct from God and secured by the sword.37 Assertions of Imperialism through Cartography and Tapestries In parallel with such promotional manifestations of imperial assertions was the production of maps whose design reflected the same aspirational urges. For cartographers, too, aimed to impress their patrons as they created new territories and were eager to display up-to-date knowledge of islands, hitherto unknown, or often fictitious, yet purported to have been seen by travellers. Their work which rarely reflected accurately the geography of the world offers corroborative evidence of mental attitudes towards imperialism at this time when maps were not neutral entities. Rather, they belonged to a visual language by which specific interests were communicated.38 Mapping grandeur and displaying it on the walls of their palaces almost convinced princes that they already owned the lands depicted there. Although maps

35 Jean Rupert Martin, The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi, Corpus Rubeniarum Ludwig Burchard, part XVI (London and New York: Phaidon, 1972) for a detailed analysis of the sculptures on the portico, pp. 100-10; and of Rubens’s designs, pp. 110-31. A study of the decline of Antwerp and Rubens’s entry was made by Elizabeth McGrath, ‘Le Déclin d’Anvers et les décorations de Rubens pour l’entrée du prince Ferdinand en 1635’, in Jacquot, Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, III (Paris: Centre de la recherche scientifique, 1975), pp. 173-86. 36 Dandelet, The Renaissance of Empire, p. 3. 37 The Entry of Henri II into Paris, 16 June 1549, facsimile edition with introduction by I. D. McFarlane, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies (Binghamton: New York, 1982), page 1 of text. 38 For the connection between cartography and politics, David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography, vol. 3, Cartography in the European Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), p. 19; and David Buisserat (ed.), Monarchs, Ministers and Maps: The Emergence of Cartography as a tool of Government in Early Modern Europe (Chicago/London: University of Chicago Press, 1992). For François Ier’s interest in map-making, Galye K. Brunelle, ‘The Images of Empire: Francis I and His Cartographers’, in Gosman, Macdonald and Vanderjagt, Princes and Princely Culture, pp. 81-102.

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were often used as guides for the planning of military campaigns (that of Charles VIII into Northern Italy or of Henry VIII embarking on his siege of Thérouane), they could sometimes be of doubtful assistance if studied at the expense of action. It was reported by Guillaume du Bellay (1491–1543), for instance, in his wry reflections on French military tussles with Emperor Charles V, that this commander, in his unsuccessful attempts to invade Provence in 1536, consulted his maps so intently ‘that he began to think that he had this country in his grasp instead of just the maps’.39 It is now well known that all European princes appreciated the value of cartography. Maps had become recognized tools of government. They provided information on geographic boundaries (establishing a sound factual basis for fiscal purposes); they were useful guides in the preparation of military expeditions; they could help establish territorial rights; and, above all, they could be manipulated to promote territorial aspirations and record the acquiring, preserving and the extending of lands. The immensity of the Turkish threat at the siege of Vienna (1529) was recorded on a woodcut map published in Nuremberg in 1536, Descriptio Expeditionis Turcicae contra Christianos Anno Domini XXIX, prepared, printed, and distributed in order to galvanize a crusade against the power of the Infidel.40 Its date of publication coincided with other images promoting the victories of Emperor Charles V against this persistent arch enemy of Christendom. The New World provided ample opportunity for imperial expansion, and maps played a vital role in the claims and counterclaims of Renaissance explorers and their patrons. Maps became inscriptions of power. They constructed the worlds they depicted and their enlargement of territory made the myth of empire itself seem more extended and, as a consequence, more real. The map of Mexico, for example, printed in Nuremberg in 1525, drew attention to the once powerful standing the city had enjoyed but its rubric, while acknowledging past glories, also expressed pride and contentment in belonging to a new master: ‘He [Charles V] is truly outstanding. The Old World and the New [now] belong to him, and another [Mexico] is laid upon his rule’.41 Half a century later, another cartographer — François Desprez (c. 1540-c. 1580) — used his skills to anticipate and justify victory for the French King Charles IX and his troops at the siege of La Rochelle in 1573. The monarch’s apparently victorious troops are shown clearly in the foreground, while messages on the map itself point to the devastating ruins they have caused. Simultaneously, Desprez shows the solid state of the fortified walls of the town, and also depicts them as utterly shattered. On the left hand side of the map, in an inserted vignette, he specifies that this double vision is deliberate. He has represented the powerful condition of La Rochelle before the troubles came, and has then drawn attention to the present ruined state of churches and other buildings. This is a potent example, he claims, of the ravages of war and the consequences of heresy when the solid becomes infirm and only the true Christian triumphs.42 Yet it was to be over half a century before a French king finally conquered this Protestant stronghold.

39 Cited in Woodward, Cartography in the European Renaissance, p. 19. 40 Peter Barber and Tom Harper, Magnificent Maps: Power, Propaganda and Art (London: The British Library, 2010), pp. 32-33. 41 Richard L. Kagan and Benjamin Schmidt, ‘Maps and the Early Modern State: Official Cartography’, in Woodward, Cartography in the European Renaissance, pp. 661-79, (p. 670). 42 A reproduction of Desprez’ engraving is printed in Kagan and Schmidt, ‘Maps and the Early Modern State’, p. 738, fig. 53.10.

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Figure 2.6. Emperor Charles V’s triumph over Suleyman the Magnificent, engraved Hieronymus Cock.

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Elizabethans did not neglect similar opportunities to promote the territorial claims of their Queen. Elizabeth I appears on the frontispiece of John Dee’s (1527–1608/9) General and Rare Monuments (1577). She is in charge of the ship called Europa riding towards new lands, and she aspires to empire through establishing her power over the seas. Dee’s imperialist projects have been much discussed and it is clear that The Limits of the British Empire (1576–1577) was the high point of his historical justification for the Queen’s imperial claims, and of his desire to persuade her to enhance naval power not only to withstand invasion by the Spanish but also to ensure the benefits from the discovery of new lands across the seas.43 That others shared Dee’s aims and were influenced by his investigations may be judged from Emery Molyneux’s globes of the world, presented to Elizabeth I in 1592 and 1594. One of these survives in the Library of the Middle Temple, marked with the routes taken by Sir Francis Drake and with Elizabeth’s arms firmly placed over North America.44 That gesture had already been anticipated in the so-called Armada Portrait, painted about 1588, commemorating one of the most famous achievements of Elizabeth I’s reign — the defeat of the Spanish Armada. It shows the Queen laden with jewels pinned to rich and embroidered silks; while in the background are naval scenes depicting the arrival of the Spanish ships and their destruction. Beside the Queen’s right shoulder sits the imperial crown while her hand rests on the globe of the world directly above the map of the newly conquered lands in America [Plate IV].45 For his part, Philip II ensured that Spanish cosmographers deployed their craft solely in the interests of the State, requiring them to gather information from every available source, but to keep it secret so that other ambitious monarchies could not profit from that knowledge.46 By far the grandest and most expensive modes of recording imperial achievements and of promoting their claims for political dominion and future renown were tapestries, long in the making, rich in their decorative power, and lasting in their effect. Celebrated among these treasures are the sets made to celebrate the victories of Emperor Charles V. That he contemplated their political usefulness can be judged from the fact that he ordered the painter, Jean Vermayen de Bruxelles, to accompany him and his army on their victorious expedition to North Africa in 1536. There, from direct observation of the fighting, the painter was able to provide models from which Mary of Hungary would commission twelve tapestries from Pannemaker who completed the work in 1554.47 The Emperor’s appreciation 43 Frances A. Yates’ initial enthusiasm (Astraea: The Imperial Theme in the Sixteenth Century (London/ Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), has been reworked and modified by later scholars; in particular, Ken MacMillan, and Jennifer Abeles (eds), John Dee: The Limits of the British Empire (Westport CT: 2004), and Graham Yewbray, ‘John Dee’s British Empire: A Laborious Treatise on Orphir of 1577’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 78 (2015), 247-76. 44 Barber and Harper, Magnificent Maps, pp. 60-61. 45 The portrait is thought to have been owned by Sir Francis Drake who may have commissioned the work. 46 Maria M. Portuando, Secret Science: Spanish Cosmography and the New World (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2009) has shown how when the Spanish Habsburg monarchy, under Philip II, attained its maximum territorial expansion, the King used his choreographers to chart those gains and to keep them hidden from the eyes of others. 47 Jules Houdoy, ‘Les tapisseries de Charles-Quint représentant la conquête du royaulme de Thunes’, Bulletin de la Commission historique du département du Nord, 9 (Lille: 1873), 1-33, publishes the accounts relating to this series. These tapestries have been much studied. For the contributions of Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen and Pieter Coecke van Aelst, see H. J. Horn, Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen: Painter of Charles V and his Conquest of Tunis, 2 vols (Doornspijk: Davaco Publishers, 1989); the section B1-B102 gives the cartoons and the Tapestries; Figures C are

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of the power of images for purposes of remembrance and propaganda was deep rooted as can be seen from his request to Titian (whom he had met many years earlier, in 1530, at the Court of Gonzaga in Mantua), that he come to Augsburg so that he might produce the equestrian portrait of Charles V depicted in the actual armour he had worn during the conflict at Mühlberg (1547).48 Many sets of tapestries were made to record Charles’ military triumphs and to give substance to his imperial policies and inspire similar aspirations in his son. In 1549, Enea Vico planned a series of drawings on sheets of folio reale destined to be made into tapestries for Cosimo I, including the coronation of Charles V by Pope Clement VII, the taking of Tunis and the Emperor’s triumphs in Germany. The artist went in person from Florence to Augsburg to present his engraving of the victory at Mühlberg to the Emperor who gave him a private audience. It was an ambitious work depicting the heart of the battle as the imperial forces fired their guns across a swirling river peopled with debris and the many rafts carrying the Emperor’s soldiers about to storm the castle, while defenders (much smaller in number) are shown attempting to counter the attack with cannon fire.49 The most accomplished drawings for tapestry sets were those dedicated in 1558 by Hieronymus Cock (1518–1570) to Philip II [Fig. 2.6., pp. 70-71]. These were prepared by Dick Coornhert (1522–1590) from engravings by Marten van Heemskerck (1555–1556), entitled The Victories of Charles Quint. The final twelve canvases included the Emperor enthroned and lauding it over his enemies (1); François Ier taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia (2); Suleyman the Magnificent being pushed back from the siege of Vienna (1529); the civilising of the Indians (6); and the siege of Tunis (7). Philip II frequently used these tapestries in propaganda displays for his dynasty.50 However visually realistic and compelling in their decorative detail, in their insistence on imperial capacity and achievement, such modes of promotion inhabited an imaginary world. It was a universe filled with hopes for victory, security and peace, with dreams of possessing the military capacity to bring order out of chaos. In the political climate of this time, the power of images, and the utopian themes displayed in the décor of princely entries cannot be overestimated. As the reality of absolute power became more fragile so the force of rhetoric, the impact of images and the importance of ritual became stronger.51

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copies and additional sets of the series pointing to their success and notoriety. See also the exhibition catalogue from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Resplendence of the Spanish Monarchy: Renaissance Tapestries and Armor from the Patrimonio Nacional (New York: Harry N. Adams, Inc., 1992). David Kunzle has analysed these splendid scenes placing the most emphasis on Vermeyen’s depiction of the plight of the victims and arguing that the painter was intent on showing his sympathy for them, From Criminal to Courtier, pp. 63-80. For an interpretation of the meaning of Titian’s portrait, see John F. Moffitt, ‘One Forgotten Role of a “Determined Christian Knight” in Titian’s Depiction of Charles V, Equestrian at Mülhberg’, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 187 (2001), 36-44. The ambitious series was never completed, but Charles V rewarded Vico with 200 crowns for the delivery of the engraving of the victory at Mühlberg, see Rosemary Mulcahy, ‘Enea Vico’s Proposed Triumphs of Charles V’, Print Quarterly, 19 (2002), 331-40. For the Mühlberg engraving, see Griffiths, The Print, Fig. 19.4, p. 311. For an analysis of the tapestries which establishes the historical context of each engraving, studies artistic precedents and suggests the impact on later artists (Vasari, Salviati and the Zucari brothers), as well as discussing the seven further editions of the engravings between 1556 and c. 1640, Bart Rosier, ‘The Victories of Charles V: A Series of Prints by Marten Van Heemskerck, 1555-6’, Simiolus, 20 (1) (1990–1991), 24-38. For detailed discussion of the creation of imaginary worlds in a season of violence, consult Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, p. 236 and Alexandre Y. Haran, Le Lys et le Globe. Messianisme dynastique et rêve impérial en France au XVIe et XVIIe siècles (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2000), pp. 160-80.

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Figure 2.7. Parnassus overcoming Discord, entry into Antwerp (1582).

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Witnesses to the belligerent intrusions of the French kings, Charles VIII and Louis XII, into Italy presented these military campaigns as crusades, and viewed them as expeditions worthy of imperial honours. In fact, these princes were waging war against a collection of petty tyrants. Dissension and war in the German States also revealed the illusory nature of empire as their union began to shatter and which, by the reign of Rudolf II, had been reduced to fragments. At Charles V’s entry into Munich in June 1530, only a few months after his triumphs in Bologna, he saw mutilated and scarred bodies, and bones emerging from the limbs of the dying. This appalling spectacle represented the dismemberment of the German States, a show that was to become increasingly true and poignant as the Emperor tried, in vain, to bring union to his vast territories.52 Throughout this period, kings of France and kings of Spain fought each other; tried to invade their respective territories; to reclaim title; to extend domains; and to upset each other’s aspirations to Empire. Spain also challenged England on the seas, and struggled in vain to bring order to the Protestant communities over which it held dominion in the Northern Provinces. On top of these incessant conflicts were internal ones. Sporadically, and then increasingly from 1562 until the end of the sixteenth century, France was at war within itself — Protestants fighting Catholics. In addition, there were the ever present dangers from the Turks who lurked along the borders of the Holy Roman Empire carrying out their piracies up and down the coasts of Italy, North Africa, Portugal and France. The extraordinary number of troops they could marshal in the field, the quantity of ships that set forth each year to ravage the lands of others were formidable obstacles to any prince who realistically entertained the notion of dominion over all. In entries themselves, there was ambiguity; not only with respect to the simultaneous presence of victory and violence on the monuments of celebration, but also in speeches and inscriptions which stressed how war had reduced cities to poverty. At Antwerp (1549), magnificence was intended to seduce the Prince into taking steps to reverse the decline of the city’s trade. At Sens (1563), was displayed the desperate state of the town as a consequence of war. In Antwerp again (1582) waggons, inspired from Ommegang, were heavily used to carry political messages. The final display represented the mountain of Parnassus confronting the Cave of Discord and was intended to demonstrate that harmonious rule could reduce oppression and bring about concord [Fig. 2.7.]. This hope was soon shattered as the Duc d’Anjou abandoned his post a few months later.53 Also at Rouen (1596), the first arch that confronted Henri IV actually depicted carpenters in the act of trying to repair the damages long months of siege had brought through civil strife, bravely borne.54 Thus, the Rouennais publicly acknowledged their error in having opposed their King, the suffering they had endured, and their determination 52 For a discussion of the imagery at Munich in 1530 and its political implications, Jacquot, Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, II, p. 428. 53 [Petrus Loyseleur de Villiers], La joyeuse et magnifique Entrée, plate 20; for a discussion of the political significance of this entry, Emily J. Peters, ‘Printing Ritual. The Performance of Community in Christophe Plantin’s La Joyeuse et Magnifique Entrée de Mgr François d’Anjou […] (Antwerp, 1582)’, Renaissance Quarterly, 6 (2008), 370-413. It should be noted that in the illustrations for this entry, key characters are engraved while minor figures are merely etched — a process of image-making considered inferior at this time, see Griffiths, The Print, p. 473. 54 See my article, ‘Henri IV as Architect and Restorer of the State: His Entry into Rouen, 16 October 1596’, in Mulryne, with Aliverti and Testaverde, Ceremonial Entries, pp. 63-76.

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to repair such self-inflicted damage. Organisers of entries were aware of the ambiguity. In Bordeaux (1615), for example, at the time of deep civil disorder with Catholic and Protestant armies tracking each other’s movements, the citizens produced, for the royal entry, what has been aptly described as ‘Ambivalent Fictions’. On the one hand, they attempted through the images on the arches to consolidate union between two erstwhile enemies France and Spain, and on the other, they simultaneously flaunted ideas of power and empire, publishing the desires for French supremacy in Europe.55 Nevertheless, expressions of imperial claims — whether in word or image — were, in fact, merely empty gestures generating no more than temporary comfort. Yet organisers of princely entries continued to use the idea of empire on their monuments. Philip II was, for instance, greeted on London Bridge in 1554 by two statues of giants holding an inscription that acknowledged the imperial status of his father and promised that, in the future, the entire universe would fall at Philip’s feet and, in fact, after his conquest of Portugal in 1580, Philip adopted the motto ‘Non sufficit orbis’ [the world is not enough]. His father, Charles V even in death, had been glorified with the motto and device (columns of Hercules and ‘Plus Ultra’) displayed prominently on the pageant ship commissioned to celebrate his life, and signifying the sacred imperialism of the Austro-Spanish Holy Roman Empire.56 Appropriation of the Imperial Dream The concept of imperialism continued to exercise such power on Renaissance thinkers that Protestants appropriated it to promote their own interests. In the first two decades of the seventeenth century, festivals at the courts of German states were political meetings of great significance. Weddings, christenings and princely entries became excuses for playing out in myth strategies for change. In 1609, in Stuttgart, in the procession of 118 knights on their way to display their chivalric skills in running at the ring, Johann Friedrich of Würtemberg, was dressed as Germania and accompanied by a summons for action, ‘Wake-up, O German nation’ — a cry intended to establish their rights, cement their unity, declare their Protestant opposition to Catholicism and to bring about the collapse of the power of the Pope/Anti-Christ.57 By 1613, such political concerns appropriated many of the attributes of imperialism, the concept itself being absorbed into the semantic field of Protestantism. In that year, when he married Elizabeth, daughter of King James I, Frederick V, Elector Palatine, became the heroic defender of the Protestant cause. In the neo-Latin verse composed to celebrate the marriage, and in all the ceremonies planned to greet him on his return to the Palatinate from England, he was portrayed as the

55 Marie-Claude Canova-Green, ‘Ambivalent Fictions: The Bordeaux Celebrations of the Wedding of Louis XIII and Anne d’Autriche’, in McGowan, Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615, pp. 179-200. 56 Letter describing Philip’s entry into London, 18 August, 1554, La Solenne et Felice Intrata delli Seren. Re Philippo et Regina Maria d’Inghilterra, nella Regal città di Londra [in Londra il 24 di Iuio, 1554, [n. pub.]]. The details of the funeral apparati in Brussels, 1558, have been presented by the vicomte Terlinden, Carolus Quintus. Charles Quint Empereur des Deux Mondes (Paris/Tournai: Deslée de Brouwer, 1965). 57 Texts and discussion by Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, introduction, pp. 17-29; text of the Stuttgart Wedding, 1609, pp. 58-73; the Jägerndorf wedding, 1610, pp. 74-79.

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figurehead of the military-led Protestant press. Giovanni Maria Genochi, in his poem De Auspicatissimus Nuptos declared that Frederick ‘will be made Augustus Caesar of the Roman Empire’, while the mythology that accompanied the prince in his processional parade into the city of Heidelberg emphasized the Protestant union and the fulfilment of a sacred plan. The Protestant Daniel Jocquet who published a poem and a long prose account of the entry, explained in minute detail the symbolism which made Frederick/ Aeneas/Jason the imperial figurehead of the Protestant cause. Jocquet totally neglected to describe the actual chivalric combats for which Frederick and other German knights had ridden through the streets in disguised knightly apparel: the focus was not the display of military power but on the message about Protestant triumphalism.58 The Protestant use of the idea of empire did not always have positive consequences. Philip II’s messianic imperialism undermined his political philosophy and was interpreted (especially by Protestants) to his disadvantage. It has already been suggested that the uncertainties and unremitting nature of wars throughout Europe at this time undermined any possibility of establishing the reality of imperial claims. Inter-state hostilities waged over Italy. Religious controversies brought civil disorder to England, France, the German States, and to the Low Countries. Spanish armies invaded France, Italy, Portugal and the Northern Provinces. English troops wandered into France and into Flanders. Such hostile operations brought loss of life, untold suffering, devastation of lands and mental distraction. Why then did the notion of empire haunt the minds and art of princes, poets and artists? How could the empire be claimed by any one prince when it was attributed to so many? How could the idea of imperialism survive at a time when new political thinking suggested different forms of government — as, for example, in Jean Bodin’s La République 1578? Could the emphasis and durability of the concept be explained by the effects of those very wars that waged everywhere? Realities laid bare the empty, shadow-like nature of the notion of imperialism. It was, in truth, a phantom which exerted its influence on all manifestations of power at this period.59 It is instructive to consider how ‘phantom of empire’ was interpreted in contemporary writing; for, although a shadow, it still had meaning and uses. The historian, JacquesAuguste de Thou (1553–1617), in his vast Histoire Universelle, used the word ‘fantôme’ to describe Cardinal de Bourbon, the Catholic league’s candidate to succeed Henri III as King of France. He tells how the Duc de Guise dragged the aged cleric around the country like a phantom, an empty figure that served to bamboozle the people who, at the Duke’s insistence, saw in this shape their future monarch. In other words, de Thou is seeing an empty vessel, a pawn only given substance through the power and reputation of the Duc de Guise who wanted, at all costs, to deprive the legitimate Henri de Navarre 58 For observations on the use of imperial imagery to promote the hopes of the Protestants, Christof Ginzel’s thesis, Poetry, Politics and Promises of Empire: Prophetic Rhetoric in the English and Neo-Latin Epithalamia on the Occasion of the Palatine Marriage in 1613 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009); his article, ‘Iam video Babylona rapi’; Imperialist Prophecy and Propaganda in the Occasional Verse of Alexander Julius, Giovanni Barthola Maria Genochi, and Ludovico Petrucci’, in Sara Smart and Mara R. Wade (eds), The Palatine Wedding of 1613: Protestant Alliance and Court Festival (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2013), pp. 113-30; also my article, ‘Les Triomphes de Jason: A Myth Renewed in 1613’, ibid. pp. 463-78. 59 The assertion by Yates on page 1 of her Astraea is pertinent to this argument: ‘The revival of imperialism in Charles V was a phantom revival’.

the pha ntom of empire

of his heritage. De Thou’s use of the word ‘fantôme’ to characterize Cardinal de Bourbon underlines his inability to accept the substance of the prelate’s claims. This insubstantial presence merely served to dupe the populace. However, although empire was a phantom concept, De Thou accepted that this did not mean that it lacked impact. Even though, as far as he was concerned, the idea of empire — or of ‘la monarchie universelle’, as he called it — was out of date and monstrous (‘un projet ancien et monstrueux’). He went on to argue that Emperor Charles V only entertained the idea for himself and his son because he was inebriated by his victories and prosperity. According to De Thou, the Emperor had relied on the Jesuits who perceived Empire and the One Catholic Faith as mutually reinforcing. Such an approach he regarded as disastrous for peace in Europe. Although he was critical of Charles V’s dangerous ambition, De Thou was more tolerant of Philip II whom he saw as clear-minded and intelligent. Some commentators agreed with this view because (De Thou argued) they were persuaded that Philip had no such imperial pretensions knowing them to be unrealizable, because he would not antagonize his cousin Maximilian II nor would he alienate other European princes.60 In fact, as early as 1538, Gaspard de Saulx, seigneur de Tavannes, had argued that kings of France and Spain knew well, from their own experience, that universal monarchy in Europe was an impossibility.61 Yet the idea of empire did not vanish from the minds of educated men. The imperial theme was to be insistently associated with Louis XIII who, after his crushing of the Protestants in 1628 with the fall of La Rochelle and having unified the kingdom under the Catholic Faith, appeared in all his triumphant entries as the universal monarch.62 The idea of empire had lingered, ready to be re-activated, for it had weighed heavily in the thoughts of those ambassadors who, as late as 1597, attempted to negotiate a settlement between Spain and the Low Countries. The French ambassador counselled caution in coming to any agreement, for he argued that ‘all religious ills in Europe stemmed from one source’: that is from the ambitions of Philip II who, for thirty-six years, had no other project in his head except that dream [phantom] which his father had never realized, of becoming monarch of the whole of Christianity. Again, in 1609, citizens of the Low Countries were still assailed by this memory; they could not believe the promises of the Spanish negotiators when they remembered that Philip II had clung so tenaciously to his ‘projet chimérique de la monarchie universelle’ — acknowledging the phantom, yet a ‘chimère’, that still informed their thinking.63 When Agrippa d’Aubigné published his own Histoire universelle in 1616, he still attributed the responsibility for the long continuation of religious strife to the pretensions of the House of Austria for world domination.64

60 Jacques-Auguste de Thou, Histoire universelle, vol. X, pp. 282-83. The historian painted a vivid picture of the old Cardinal as a broken reed, led around by Guise because the latter had need of his ‘fantôme’ to impress the people: books LXXX (1585), p. 266; LXXXX (1588), p. 282; and LXXXXVIII (1590), p. 154. He also referred many times to the insatiable desire for empire of both Charles V and his son Philip, see books CVII (1593), pp. 16-17; CXV (1595-6), p. 250; and CXVIII (1597), p. 77. 61 Gaspard de Saulx, sgr de Tavannes, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 8, p. 91. 62 This is also a leitmotiv in Louis XIII’s coronation entry into Reims. For the persistence of the dream of empire, see Alexandre Y. Haran, Le Lys et le Globe, for Louis XIII, p. 349. 63 De Thou, Histoire universelle, XV, Suite de L’Histoire, book 2, pp. 32-50. 64 Agrippa d’Aubigné, Histoire universelle, ed. le Baron Alphonse de Ruble, 5 vols (Paris: Renouard, 1886), vol. I, book 1, chapter xiv, p. 91.

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The extent to which illusions such as the phantom of Empire lingered on in the mind of Renaissance diplomats, thinkers and writers may perhaps be explained by the very conditions of war which influenced the way in which artists and poets viewed and represented the world. On the subject of representing political events involving intense activity, the Parisian printer, Jean le Clerc (c. 1560–1622) observed: ‘written narration will not persuade as well as the picture since men are more often moved by what they see than by what they hear’.65 Artists and poets agreed with such an approach. They were convinced that the power of images, drawn with words or in paint, however ghostlike in reality, allowed them to display their virtuosity in rendering life-like representations of military triumph, of imperial strength in action, and thus provide the observer with something like actual experience of the excitement depicted. In their hands, illusions became tools of persuasion and of defence. They allowed a poet, like Pierre de Ronsard, to exploit images and myths which could both articulate the force of poetry and its capacity to conjure up a world where truths hidden in fable revealed possible paths to discovery, and — through those very images — to offer counsel to kings. The idea of Empire, activated through symbol and through the image of an idealized realm, offered probing comment on political realities far removed from that imagined state. For the artist too, dreams of imperial rule expressed in art and architecture not only provided immense creative challenges but helped to shape the mentality of Europe’s ruling class. The role of nostalgia in political discourse and in imagery at this time must not be underestimated.66 Looking back upon a distant world created through desires to escape from the harsh realities of the present offered solace and even belief. Artists and organisers of princely entries dreamed of concord and unity to replace the disorder and dissension and the desperate feelings of insecurity of everyday experience. Their representations of the phantom of empire were intensely graphic, precise, persistent and eloquently argued. Political and military failure should not prevent us from dwelling on the extraordinarily durable and remarkable creative effort employed to keep hopes alive in a season of violence. Such hopes, though unrealized, are as much a part of history as the events which crushed them.67

65 Jean le Clerc, cited in Philip Benedict, Graphic History: The Wars, Massacres and Troubles of Tortorel and Pellissin (Geneva: Droz, 2007), pp. 99-100. 66 See James Knowles, ‘Jonson’s Use of the 1575 Entertainments’, in Jayne Elizabeth Archer, Elizabeth Goldring and Sarah Knight (eds), The Progresses, Pageants and Entertainments of Queen Elizabeth I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 247-65. 67 The works of Frances A. Yates first drew attention to the importance of recovering hopes from the past which never materialised. As far as the theme of empire is concerned, her Astraea should still be consulted.

Chapter III

Military Spectacle During Princely Entries

In addition to a significant military presence, most princely entries were also accompanied by extravagant martial displays of diverse kinds. These performances extended the political and strategic purposes of the occasion, adding another dimension of generally controlled violent behaviour to festival. One of the delights for the crowd, as well as for participants, was the sight of columns of armed men proceeding in good order through the city. Such a display served to advertise the strength and valour of the visiting prince and to underline the military power of the city that received him with the spectacle of its citizens, dressed gorgeously and armed with the weapons of war. Such parades also provided an opportunity for everyone to enjoy their taste for demonstrations of chivalric skills and good horsemanship. At Caen (1532), young riders, similar in age to the dauphin who was making a triumphal entry into the city, were particularly praised for the jumps and leaps their horses performed, while the Sire de Vieilleville was so impressed by the 1200 young riders who displayed so spectacularly their skills in horsemanship in Paris (1549) that he declared one would have thought they had been nourished all their lives in noble households.1 In Madrid (1570), the opening ceremony for the entry of Philip II and Anne of Austria consisted of a vast company of 4000 infantry and 1500 artillery assembled in a camp arranged so as to give the effect of ‘una campal batalla’ and to show off their military prowess.2 In Paris a year later (1571), mounted on prestigious Spanish horses, the Enfants de la ville, intent on astonishing the crowd with their expertise, had practised their horsemanship beforehand: ‘ils estoient exercez quelque temps auparavant’.3 As a consequence, they were able to demonstrate their ability to gallop, turn around in circles, perform courbettes and passades. They had already, in 1549, made their horses jump into the air with such grace and facility that they always landed correctly in their place.4

1 Charles de Bourgueville, Les recherches et antiquités de la ville de Caen (Caen: De l’imprimerie de I. de Feure, 1588), pp. 103-21, ‘Entrees triomphantes du Roy nostre Sire et de monseigneur le Dauphin […] 1532’ [2 and 3 April]; p. 108, ‘chose fort pompeuse à voir[…] pour les sauts et voltes qu’ils faisoyent faire à leurs dits chevaux’. François de Scepeaux, sire de Vieilleville, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 9, pp. 97-98. Dylan Reid has explored the role of the enfants de la ville in princely entries, stressing their desire to fight for the king alongside nobles, see ‘Enfants de la ville; Bourgeois Horsemanship and Combat Games in French Royal Entries’, in John McClelland and Brian Merrrilies (eds), Sport and Culture in Early Modern Europe (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2009), pp. 267-92. 2 López de Hoyos, Real apparato y sumptuoso recibimiento, ff. 20v-23r; Ruiz discusses Philip II’s entry into Madrid in A King Travels, pp. 109-12. 3 From the account by the Mantuan ambassador in a letter to his Duke, cited in full by Riccardo Truffi, Giostre e cantori di giostre (Rocca S. Casciano [1911]), pp. 218-24. 4 The Entry of Henri II into Paris, 16 June 1549, p. 41; and see above note 1.

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Chivalric Performances The military parade through the city during an entry found its corollary in the journey to the lists which became a favoured chivalric entertainment on these occasions. Knights dressed in exotic or heroic guise rode past the citizens lining the streets, their armour imprinted with realistic scenes of battle glistening in the sun. Depicted there were desperate encounters between foot soldiers and knights; between adversaries in the Trojan war fighting with swords while standing on bodies buried by fallen masonry; or pitched battles between large numbers of Europeans and Turks.5 Thus they carried on their person the feats of arms they were about to re-enact. When they arrived at the place destined for the combat, they ‘made an entrance’ riding a preliminary lap around the lists. Each quadrille of knights with their pages and supporters followed in the same pattern, showing off their riding ability, and exhibiting the ingenuity of the devices that also decorated their arms and their person, as well as advertising their eagerness to fight. In many cities, the urban landscape itself had been fashioned for social and political purposes, one of which was to accommodate the temporary structures required for jousts and military display. The Piazza della Signoria in Florence, for example, became the final place of performance after the long march through the city. There, bull fights, political assemblies, dramatic spectacles, and jousts found their natural home set in the surrounding architecture which, with its great civic monuments, eloquently proclaimed a space for the display of power.6 Often the entrance to the lists was decorated with a triumphal arch, exactly similar in form to those erected to honour the Prince at his entry into the city. In Paris (1549), for example, the arch was ready two days before the contest.7 On the corner of the rue de Tournelles, it was adorned with military and jousting motifs, displaying trophies of war alongside ancient remains to recall the legacy of Roman triumphs. Powerful legends of ancient Gaul were also remembered there. Statues of famous Gallic ancestors — Brennus and Belgius — greeted the contestants. They were set beside those of Mars and Dis and, according to the printed account, were so wonderfully made and life-like that it seemed as if they were themselves men of war arriving for the tournament. Two victories completed the artistic design, placed prominently on the arch so as to encourage each knight to wish to do well and achieve renown in the lists (‘faisoyent desirer à chacun renommée de chevalerie’).8 Military spectacle dominated the political imagination of princes for the good reason that they were trained from an early age to understand the values of engaging in martial exercise and of performing well in any military encounter. Maximilian I envisaged close interconnections between warfare and chivalric deeds. As Larry Silver has argued, the two activities were blended together in the emperor’s romance, the Weisskünig (1513), which

5 Detailed reproductions of these scenes of war on armour, notably that created for Henri II, King of France, are provided in Sous l’égide de Mars. Armures des Princes d’Europe, Musée de l’Armée (Paris: Nicolas Chaudun, 2011), especially catalogue nos 14, 38, and 40. 6 The words are those of Marvin Tractenberg who has studied the role of public spaces and, in particular, the social and political significance of the piazza, Dominion of the Eye: Urbanism, Art and Power in Early Modern Florence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 7 Truffi, Giostre, p. 218. 8 An engraving of the arch can be found in the official account of the Entry, Entry of Henri II into Paris (1549), f. 36v. See also, discussion in the introduction, pp. 46-47; and the description, f. 38v.

military s pectacle during princely entries

Figure 3.1. Maximilian I visits his Armourers (1513).

was conceived as a series of lessons in both.9 Maximilian was depicted as the White Knight learning every aspect of making war even to the most technical of studies as can be seen from the engraving showing him visiting armourers’ workshops and learning their art [Fig. 3.1.].10 9 Silver, Marketing Maximilian, p. 147: ‘In Weisskunig, Maximilian actually portrayed a world of politics that was practiced as warfare and a world of warfare that was practiced as if a tournament mêlée’. 10 Weisskünig, original prepared by Marx Treitzsauwein, 1513, f. 92v in the Stuttgart copy, Cod. Hist. f. 271. For an overview of this topic, J. R. Hale, ‘The Military Education of the Officer Class in Early Modern Europe’, in Renaissance War Studies, pp. 225-46. The Weisskünig also included an engraving showing jointed wooden toy models designed to teach Maximilian I to joust, ibid., f. 53.

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In France, the artist Antoine Caron, in the second book of his drawings planned for L’Histoire de la reine Arthémise, produced designs to instruct the young King Charles IX in the arts of chivalry and war. L’Equitation [Horsemanship, Fig. 25]11 shows the King riding in the foreground looked on benignly by a giant statue of Hercules; behind him looms the Coliseum where spectators enjoy a single combat in progress.12 In this way, Caron makes explicit the correspondence between Roman valour and sixteenth-century French martial aspirations. As the young King strives to master the skills of horsemanship, the site of individual shows of past physical strength — the Coliseum — urges the comparison upon the vision of the spectator [Plate V]. Other lessons follow: L’Escrime [Fencing, Fig. 48] depicts an indoor scene where two warriors, clad in heavy armour, fight ardently. Then come scenes of war: La Prise d’un fort [The Taking of a Fort, Fig. 49]; Les Manoeuvres de l’armée [army manoeuvres, Fig. 50]; and Les Manoeuvres navales [sea encounters, Fig. 51]. Each drawing has on its reverse side a sonnet explaining the meaning of the subject and showing the pedagogic intentions of the artist. Behind L’Equitation, for instance, one reads: Premier, on luy monstra en toutes occurences Comme on peult adextrir, et conduire, et manier Les plus facheux chevaux […] On luy monstra comment à combattre et à bond, En carrière, en galop, en petit pas, en rond, On les doibt gouverner[…]13 [First, he will be shown how one can have the skills to lead and manage, in every eventuality, the most wild of horses […] he will be shown how they must be controlled performing leaps or courbettes, on the course, galloping, moving slowly or in circles…] A generation later, Louis XIII learned his own martial skills at the Académie of Antoine de Pluvinel whose Manège Royal (published in 1623) depicts the King successfully running at the ring and participating in a tournament [Fig. 3.2.].14 The skills acquired from daily lessons, a necessary preparation for those needed in real warfare, were shared by nobles who were all trained by professionals to bear arms. In many ways, nobles welcomed war for it provided them with the thrills and excitement of intense action where they could affirm their personality and establish a reputation. For them, war 11 The drawings are in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Cabinet des Estampes, MS 306 and are reproduced by Jean Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, figures as indicated. For a summary of recent research on the work of Caron and its context, exhibition catalogue, Antoine Caron: Drawing for Catherine de’ Medici, The Courtauld Gallery, London, 18 January–15 April 2018, ed. Ketty Gottardo (London: Paul Holberton Publishing, 2017). See also, Barbara Gaehtgens, ‘Catherine de Médicis et l’Histoire Françoyse de nostre temps’, in Sabine Frommel, and Gerhard Wolf (eds), Il mecenatismo di Caterina de’ Medici: poesia, feste, musica, pittura, scultura, architettura (Venice: Marsilio, 2008), pp. 149-69.  12 A tapestry based on this drawing is in the Mobilier National, Paris and is illustrated in Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, p. 83. 13 This text, taken from Caron’s manuscript, is given on p. 82 by Ehrmann, Antoine Caron. 14 For Louis XIII’s training and the importance of Antoine de Pluvinel’s Le Manège royal (Paris: G. le Noir, 1623), Patrice Franchet d’Espèrey, ‘The Ballet d’Antoine de Pluvinel and The Maneige Royal’, in McGowan, Dynastic Marriages, pp. 115-36; see also Luc de Goustine, ‘Le Manège du roi’, in Monique Chatenet and Patrice Franchet d’Espèrey (eds), Les Arts de l’équitation dans l’Europe de la Renaissance (Arles: Actes Sud, 2009), pp. 279-306.

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was a kind of perpetual festival. In times of peace, they were expected to play a supportive role in maintaining order in the State by accepting governorships of provinces, putting their sword at the service of the King at moments of crisis, and providing good examples of knightly virtues.15 These responsibilities and duties became more problematic in this period of strife, and the benefits of military shows need to be seen in this stormy context.16 To some extent, our observations will focus on the French nobility whose conditions pose the issues regarding their performance most acutely; however, their experience and their problems were echoed across Europe where attitudes to war and honour were also not straightforward.17 Writers who had experienced war were ambiguous about its virtues: on the one hand, they exalted the splendour of physical and skilled performance; on the other, they bewailed the horrors that ensued. This ambiguity is evident in the account of Cesare Anselmi who had witnessed the sack of Brescia in 1512 which lasted five days, and whose record moves from celebration of the military action to lamentation at the numbers slaughtered.18 The publication which announced the tournament to celebrate the double marriages of Elizabeth of France to Philip II, and of Margaret of France to the Duke of Savoy in 1559 makes clear the chivalric pretensions entertained at the French court and the focus on skilled performance. The herald’s invitation to participate reads as follows: Faire assavoir à tous Princes, seigneurs, gentilshommes, chevaliers et Escuyers suyvant le faict des armes, et desirans faire preuve de leurs personnes en icelles, pour inciter les jeunes à Vertu, et recommander la prouesse des experimentez […]19 [Let it be known to all Princes, lords, gentlemen, knights and squires who follow feats of arms and desire to prove their skills in this art in order to encourage the young to Virtue and to make known the prowess of the experienced…] Established skills and good performance are here uppermost at a time when the Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis (1559), which brought a temporary peace between Spain and France, also brought forced inactivity on nobles who became increasingly restless, unwilling to sacrifice traditions of valour to simple pedigree.20

15 For inherited attitudes to public order and the ambivalent role of nobles in an earlier period, Richard W. Kaeuper (ed.), Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). 16 Jouanna Arlette, Le devoir de révolte: la noblesse française et la gestation de l’Etat moderne (1559–1661) (Paris: Fayard, 1989), has set out the duties and ideals of the French nobility and their role in the State (pp. 50-90), and she has explored the reasons for their discontent and revolt pp. 147-61. 17 For the complex relations between war and honour, see Michel Nassiet, La Violence, passim. 18 The ambiguity and the shift from praise to blame are examined by Elena Benzoni, ‘Les sacs de ville à l’époque des guerres d’Italie (1494–1530): les contemporains face au massacre’, in David El Kenz, Le Massacre, pp. 157-70. 19 La publication des emprises du tournoy qui doibt estre à Paris ville capitale du royaume de France, pour la Solennité des tresheureux mariages du Roy Catholique, avec madame Elizabeth fille aisnée du Roy tres chrestien. Et du Duc de Savoye avec Marguerite de France. Publié audict lieu par les Heraux darmes de France (Lyon: Benoist Rigaud, 1559). 20 For this dilemma, see Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, p. 303 and Ellery Schalk, From Valor to Pedrigree: Ideas of Nobility in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986).

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Figure 3.2. King Louis XIII in a tournament (1623), engraved Crispin de Passe.

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Opinion was (and is) divided concerning the real role played by nobles in government and their addiction to shows which exhibited their military prowess.21 Some writers acknowledged the significant role they played in state affairs and in the conduct of war. On the arch dedicated to Piety for the triumphal entry of Louis XIII into his capital in December 1628, the Nobility was singled out for praise, stressing its courage and its valour.22 Honour and Virtue had adorned the arch at the Bourgneuf in Lyon (1548) as twin signs of endeavour and achievement.23 At the Estates General (Blois, 1577) however, the picture was more ambiguous. Baron de Senecy’s harangue, delivered on behalf of the Nobility, reminded his audience that (following the example of the Romans) one could only gain entry to the Temple of Honour by first passing through the gates of Virtue. These qualities (he argued) nourished the hearts of men, and led them on to perform grand and virtuous deeds bringing perpetual renown for themselves and their posterity. Nowadays, the Baron continued, we can only cherish the memory of such qualities; they linger still in the mind and continue to inspire. But, he is expressing a hope rather than a reality.24 The effects of civil war had changed behaviour and opinion. François de La Noue (1531–1591), in his Discours militaires (1587), laid bare the sensitivities that beset his noble colleagues. They responded sharply, even belligerently, to the least suspicion of criticism: a word out of place, a harsh expression, a false rumour provoked an excuse for combat; and the historian De Thou underlined their fear and apprehension of trying to adapt to the conditions of peace so accustomed had they become to the freedoms provided by civil war.25 One of the many pamphlets written against Henri III is quite explicit, as its title suggests, Advertissement des nouvelles cruautez et inhumanitez deseignees par le Tyran de la France [Warning of the cruelties and inhumane actions devised by the Tyrant of France]. The writer demonstrates that wars and the collapse of the Catholic Faith have removed good order in the State and replaced them by brutal savagery. It has made all the old disciplines disappear, and the consequences touch the Nobility most.26 Pierre Saxi who wrote an account of Louis XIII’s entry into Arles (29 October, 1622), also underlined the diminished role of nobles in State affairs. Seduced by heresy, the greater part of the Nobility and of the Great of the land (‘la pluspart de la Noblesse et des grands’) had become

21 For a discussion on the decline of chivalric spectacle as a preparation for war, see Sydney Anglo, ‘Le Déclin du spectacle chevaleresque’, in Arts du spectacle et Histoire des Idées, Recueil offert à Jean Jacquot (Tours: Centre d’études supérieures de la Renaissance, 1984), pp. 21-35. 22 [ Jean-Baptiste Machaud], Eloges et discours sur la triomphante reception du roy en sa ville de Paris apres la reduction de La Rochelle (Paris: Pierre Rocolet, 1629), pp. 53-54. 23 Cooper, Maurice Scève, The Entry of Henri II into Lyon, sigs. G1r-G3r. 24 The harangue is reported in detail by Agrippa d’Aubigné, Histoire Universelle, vol. IV, book VIII, ch. VI, p. 153. 25 Diane Roussel, Violences et passions, p. 195, cites La Noue: ‘une parole de néant, ou dite en jeu, attirera un démentir; une contenance un peu brusque sera réputée à l’injure; un faux rapport ou une fausse opinion fera appeler au combat, tant on est chatouilleux et poinctilleux en la conversation ordinaire’. De Thou, Histoire, book XLIII (1568), pp. 41819: ‘plusieurs [grands] accoûtumez à la licence des guerres civiles appréhendoient le repos et la tranquillité de l’Etat’. The same sentiment was expressed by Michel de L’Hospital, amateur of peace; ‘tu peux connaître à des marques certaines la différence qui existe entre ces nobles seigneurs et moi. Ils demandent la guerre parcequ’ils redoutent la paix’ [You can judge the difference between these noble lords and myself by distinctive marks. They demand war because they fear peace], Poésies latines, trans., Loudis Baudy de Nalèche (Paris: Hachette et Cie, 1857), book VI, Epitre IV, ‘Entretien avec ses amis’, p. 347. 26 ‘Et c’est à la noblesse [que cela] touche le plus’, Advertissement des nouvelles cruautez et inhumanitez deseignees par le Tyran de la France (Paris: Rolin Thierry, 1589), p. 10.

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prey to other disorders: to factions, internal squabbling and disagreements. As a result, Saxi reasoned, the right arm of the realm [the Nobility] has removed its support for the monarch (‘par ce moyen a cloué le bras droit de la France qui est la Noblesse’).27 A further problem, which had been identified already in the 1540s, was the disruptive presence of foreign troops in the king’s armies. Fourquevaux had argued against their intrusion in a long diatribe that ended his work Les Instructions sur le Faict de la Guerre.28 Historians have recognized how civil wars had affected military authority, devolved power to regions and factions, and encouraged the self-assertive power of the nobles. Nobles feared peace, finding it difficult (after deploying energy on the field of battle) to become re-absorbed into civilian life. Even in war, many of their roles were increasingly being taken over by professional soldiers, and their skills were not always what was needed. They preferred to help to prolong wars where they clung to the idea that they might continue to display their military skills and thereby obtain renown.29 Their martial qualities had been mastered through training and through the opportunities to display them in spectacle where discipline, speed, mobility, accuracy of aim and quickness of the eye could be maintained and perfected. Such shows were not only a mode of physical training they were also a means of reinforcing the old values of honour, virtue and good deeds which were under threat. The Seigneur de Tavannes insisted on the value of tournaments in particular since they built up strength, gave flexibility to the body, improved both mind and health, and while removing fear of danger taught order and obedience.30 The most eloquent defence of these possibilities was written by Marc de Vulson, sieur de La Colombière, in Le vray théâtre d’Honneur et de Chevalerie ou le miroir héroïque de la noblesse (1648). His observations are both retrospective and of current import in that he provides detailed examples of theatres of honour from the past and argues warmly for their relevance to his own times. His dedication to Cardinal Mazarin makes his purpose clear. On the one hand, he will show the king a true image of war: Dans la lecture de ce livre, où il [Louis XIV] verra l’image et la peinture d’une guerre assez bien représentée; [in reading this book where he [the King] will see the image and depiction of war fairly well illustrated];

27 [Pierre Saxi], Entrée de Louis XIII … dans sa ville d’Arles le 29 Octobre. 1622 (Avignon: J. Bramereau, 1623), p. 17. 28 Fourquevaux, Les Instructions sur le Faict de la Guerre, p. 111. 29 For the situation of the nobles, David Parrott, The Business of War: Military Enterprise and Military Resolution in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 50, 95 and 266. The preference for continuing war was exemplified by the Maréchal de Biron, see Hardouin de Pérefixe, Evêque de Rodez, Histoire du roi Henri le Grand (Lyon: J. M. Barret, 1812), p. 133; also the damage to their reputation from the devastation they caused in times of peace, see Pascal Brioist, Hervé Drévillon and Pierre Serna (eds), Croiser le fer. Violence et culture de l’épée dans la France moderne (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles) (Paris: Champ Vallon, 2002), p. 48. 30 Tavannes, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 8 (1538), p. 98: ‘Les exercices accroissent les forces, adextrent le corps, augmentent l’esprit de la santé, apprennent l’ordre, l’obeissance, ostent la crainte’. Tavannes also promoted the value of fencing, ibid., (1551), p. 154. On the other hand, the Sire de Vielleville had argued in the same year (1538) that tournaments and other shows actually helped the soldier forget the ‘bruslements, pilleries, meurtres et vilements et pertes d’amys’ [burnings, looting, murders, rapes and loss of friends] which real warfare brings, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 9 (1538), p. 22.

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and, on the other, La Colombière sees his work as forming a model of knighthood, accomplished in all the skills required for martial feats of arms: En un mot, Sa Majesté y trouvera le miroir et le modelle d’un Prince magnanime, vaillant et parfait, et nostre Noblesse celuy d’un Chevalier accomply.31 [In a word, His Majesty will find here the mirror and model of a magnanimous Prince, valiant and perfect; and our Nobility [will find] that of an accomplished knight]. His mode of persuasion is through examples. Thus, he relates in detail the deeds performed at the tournament held in Milan (1507) by Galeazzo Visconti for King Louis XII. He describes the courses run with lances rebated; the clashes between the contestants as they wielded their heavy swords in combat; the lance play with and without barriers in the lists, with pike, axe and sword as the weapons used in succession. No sooner had the sound of metal faded in Milan than La Colombière starts on Queen Mary’s entry into Paris (1514), naming all the participants, listing the diverse enterprises undertaken during the nine days the show lasted.32 Indeed this entry had been remarkable for the length and variety of chivalric pursuits which attracted contenders from all over Europe and whose adventures are recounted in detail in many accounts.33 If one compares parallel seventeenth-century examples, it will be seen that organisers of jousts were likewise convinced that they were keeping alive the ancient virtues associated with the Nobility. The jousts which took place on the castle square in Turin in March 1608, to celebrate the marriage between Margharita of Savoy and the Prince of Mantua, and for which we have both detailed descriptions and abundant financial records, were performed with the specific aim of exalting military virtue [‘en l’esaltazione della virtù militare’], while those enacted in Mantua two months later for the same celebrations, had as their theme ‘Il Trionfo d’Onore’ with cartels composed by Gabriella Chiabrera and Giovan Battista Marino.34 It is now time to examine in more detail the diverse military spectacles that accompanied princely entries at this period and to consider their significance. How far did they add substance to the political concerns present in the entry itself? To what extent did they simulate the conditions of war by providing opportunities for continuing training for military action? By far the most popular form, the most frequent, varied and most complex were the many jousts performed all over Europe, principally by nobles (although the burghers of Lille enjoyed an annual tournament where citizens themselves displayed

31 Marc de Vulson, sieur de La Colombière, Le vray Théâtre d’Honneur et de Chevalerie, ou le miroir heroïque de la noblesse, 2 vols (Paris: Augustin Courbé, 1648), vol. I, sigs. Aiv and Ejv. 32 La Colombière, Le vray Théâtre, vol. I, pp. 175-57 for Milan 1507; vol. I, pp. 180-90 for Paris 1614. There are several copies of L’ordre des ioustes faictes à Paris à l’entrée de la royne Marie d’Angleterre qui espousa Louis XII le 9 oct. 1514 (Bibliothèque nationale de France: Rés. Lb 29 52 in octavo; Rés Lb 29 188 in quarto; Rés Lb 30 22 in octavo; and Rés Z 2757). 33 For an analysis of this entry and of the benefits of royal government and knightly display, see Michael Sherman, ‘Pomp and Circumstance: Pageantry, Politics and Propaganda in France during the Reign of Louis XII, 1498-1515’, Sixteenth Century Journal, 9 (4) (1978), 13-32; for the 1514 entry, pp. 24-32. 34 For details on these jousts, F. Varallo, ‘Le Feste per il matrimonio delle Infante (1608)’, pp. 475-91 in Mariarosa Masoero, Sergio Mamino and Claudio Rosso (eds), Convegno internazionale di studii, Torino 21-24 febbraio, 1995 (Florence: Olschki, 1999).

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their talents). Jousts had figured as part of royal entries from the fourteenth century.35 They could be in the form of a single combat, one against one, or on horseback over a barrier; or as a mêlée, a team display of strength in the open field. Increasingly, jousts took the form of single combats across a barrier in the lists; not only was this safer, it offered tangible evidence of a man’s prowess. There were, however, devotees of team events. Philip II, for example, is reported as preferring mêlées over one-to-one combats since, in his view, the speed was more rapid and exciting.36 Thus at Binche (1549) on the first day of the military games, individual competitions were followed by team contests, forty against forty, but performed in the centre of the square so as to avoid accidents.37 Whatever their form in practice, proponents of tournaments and jousts argued for their usefulness in training for wars. The seventeenth-century historian of festivals, Claude François Ménestrier, looking back over centuries of military spectacle, extolled their value: Il n’est rien où l’adresse et le courage paroisse plus. On s’y sert de toutes les ruses, et de tous les artifices des veritables combats, et l’on y apprend à vaincre en divertissant les spectateurs.38 [Nowhere else do skill and courage manifest themselves more clearly. One employs every ruse and every artifice known in real combats, and one learns to conquer while giving pleasure to spectators]. La Colombière had been of the same opinion, but he recognized that some weapons were no longer of use in war. He recommended therefore that lances be abandoned in favour of the sword, pistols and pikes, arms belonging to gentlemen who ‘se servent dans les combats et dans les batailles’ [use them in every competition and in war].39 In his mind, joust and war were synonymous, and he is reflecting the views of earlier writers like Fourquevaux who had maintained that exercises learned in jousts were essential for hardening the body, imparting discipline and order, and encouraging restraint as well as valour. Moreover, ‘une bataille feinte’ [a simulated war] demonstrates just how troops should organize themselves in order to overcome their adversaries.40 That jousts were indeed a valuable preparation for war is much disputed by historians who see an increasing gap between action in the lists and the needs of real combat — fire power was making at least some forms of combat obsolete. Zapata, for instance, jousting teacher and organiser of military shows for Philip II who was passionate about tournaments

35 Richard Barber and Juliet Barker, Tournaments: Jousts, Chivalry and Pageants in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1989), p. 107. 36 Noel Fallows, Jousting in Medieval and Renaissance Iberia (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2010), p. 60. 37 Charles Reulens, Le Siège et les fêtes de Binche (1543 et 1549), Deux documents publiés avec traduction, liminaires et notes, Société des Bibliophiles Belges séant à Mons, no. 25 (Mons: Dequesne-Masquillier, 1878), Litera della Gloriosa et Trionfante Entrada del Serenissimo principe di Spagna in Bins citta de Fiandra, pp. 65-119 (p. 73). For an analysis of the various feats of arms performed at Binche, see Tobias Capwell, ‘'Armoured Combat as Theatre at the Festivals of Binche’, in Margaret M. McGowan and Margaret Shewring (eds), Charles V, Prince Philip and the Politics of Succession: Imperial Festivities in Mons and Hainault, 1549 (Turnhout: Brepols, [in press]). 38 Claude François Ménestrier, Traité des Tournois, Joutes, Carrousels et autres spectacles publics (Lyon: Jacques Muguet, 1669), p. 321. 39 La Colombière, Le vray Théâtre, vol. I, p. 249. 40 Fourquevaux, Les Instructions sur le Faict de la Guerre, f. 5r for the usefulness of exercises in the lists; f. 35r for simulated war.

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in his early years, never once set foot on the battlefield.41 Real war had unpredictable outcomes and their representation in paint and in engraving only served to underline the chaos and suffering. Nonetheless, despite the gap between chivalric ideals as demonstrated in tournaments and the actual experience of war,42 jousting was valuable for the qualities of horsemanship, speed and attack it sustained; for providing nobles with an opportunity to display their martial prowess in times of peace; and for the political allusions that could enhance those already expressed in the entry. In many ways, it could be used as an instrument of governance, controlling otherwise rebellious subjects; or ensuring the continuation of a particular succession of the kind which led Giovanni, the head of the Bentivoglio family in Bologna, to organize (in 1490) a spectacular contest between his son Hannibal Bentivoglio and Count Nicolò Rangano. It was performed with participants from all over Italy who came to approve and enjoy the sight of Hannibal carrying off the prize.43 Taking as its theme a subject already used by Ammianus Marcellinus in the fourth century — the reconciliation between Fortuna and Sapientia — Bentivoglio reaffirmed his family’s role in a city he wished to see inheriting the grandeur of Rome.44 Thus, the parallels between Father and Son were clearly articulated: the former’s military successes and the latter’s allegorical triumph in the tournament.45 For a later example, during the marriage celebrations in Turin in 1608, personifications of Rome and Venice appeared in the spectacle, intended to remind those who watched of the anti-Spanish alliance which King Henri IV had recently engineered. In the States of the Protestant Union, important claims about war and national identity were projected. In Stuttgart (1616) for instance, Frederick V, Elector Palatine (1596–1623) appeared as Scipio Africanus on a float named Carthago Nova, while the challenge of ancient German guards, addressed to their present descendants, spelt out the belligerent political message: Dear Sons, Brothers and Sisters, It is necessary to point out that nowadays, when you gather together for so many fine, impressive meetings at such wonderful laudable tournaments, for the most part you only appear [dressed] as Roman, Greek, indeed even Turkish heroes, or even those who are completely mythological. For you ought rather to honour your own people and nation, so that you should call their valiant deeds and heroic names to mind. Appearing in ancient Roman or Greek heroic disguise was, of course, eminently acceptable; but revivifying time-honoured German heroes was better and reinforced the political aims of the Protestant States to secure victory over their Catholic enemies.46

41 Fallows, Jousting, p. 61. 42 This gap has been explored in detail by Nicolas Le Roux, Le Crépuscule de la chevalerie; guerre et noblesse à la Renaissance (Paris: Armand Colin, 2015). 43 Truffi, Giostre, pp. 101-13; Buttay-Julier, Fortuna, pp. 175-78. 44 Duccio Balestracci, La Festa in Armi. Giostre, tornei et giochi del Medioevo (Roma: Editori Laterza, 2001), p. 101. 45 A fresco representing Fortune and Fame had been completed by Lorenzo Costa four months earlier and adorned the fourth wall of the Bentivoglio chapel in San Giacomo Maggiore, see David J. Drogin, ‘Bologna’s Bentivoglio Family and its Artists: Overview of a Quattrocento Court in the Making’, in Stephen Campbell (ed.), Artists at Court, pp. 72-90. 46 Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, ‘The Protestant Union’, introduction by Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, pp. 23-29; text of tournament, pp. 96-102 (p. 101).

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Most accounts of princely entries, especially in France and in the Low Countries, were penned by writers in the pay of the city council promoting the event, and therefore they tended to stress the quality of the artwork and to provide sparse information on the details of any martial actions. Their comments were particularly pertinent in those cities, such as Ferrara and Mantua, where the tournament actually replaced the entry as a mode of welcome for a visiting prince. Most cities, however, used tournaments as a reinforcing climax to the entry; and it was on these occasions when the municipal pen fell strangely silent. In Paris (1549), for example, the tournament is mentioned in the French official account, but its author only gives the names of the participants in the tournament and provides an engraving of the arch erected at the entrance of the jousting area. Fortunately the Mantuan ambassador — Giovan Pietro Conegrani — was there and wrote amply about the nature of the deeds, describing the arch at the entry of the lists; the numbers and names of participants and their status at court; their armour (the King appeared in golden armour decorated with silver crescents); and the way they held their weapons (especially the lance). He describes how, on the fourth day, the assailants numbering sixty advanced with their axes, and — after the first shock — charged into battle with their swords and their shields held out to provoke challenge; then they moved from weapon to weapon which the defenders succeeded in combating well ‘dalla una parte et dall altra’. The ambassador was clearly impressed and, indeed, his account of the action points out that these jousts showed to the world the expertise of French noblemen, their capacity to fight all comers on horseback and display their skills which were equally remarkable on foot.47 In his Histoire, Jacques-Auguste de Thou, who rarely commented on such matters, extolled specifically the brilliance of the King’s knightly skills on this occasion.48 Of equal importance and persuasive impact was the parade to the lists through the streets of the city, as spectacular as that of the entry itself, paralleling in many ways the effect of the earlier event. Records of jousts tend to concentrate attention on this show of knights on their way to battle disguised as heroes from ancient times, from legend, from myth or from romance. Henry VIII’s chivalric journey in Westminster (1511) was worthy of permanent record in The Great Tournament Roll of Westminster.49 Ferrara and Mantua were noted for the frequency and ingenuity with which their courts devised novel themes for jousts, but was rivalled by Florence where for example the gods rode in triumph through the city in 1579.50 Christian IV, for his coronation entry into Copenhagen in 1596, had a chivalric entry which included elaborate floats of mountains and ships with the King himself disguised as a fictitious pope and his courtiers as monks and friars — the obvious intention being to declare his Protestantism to the world and to deride all that belonged to Catholicism.51 47 Truffi, Giostre, p. 224. La Colombière, Le vray Théâtre, vol. I, p. 247, also had fond memories of the quality of the deeds performed on this occasion. 48 De Thou, Histoire, book VI (1549): ‘le 23 juin tournoi. Le Roi […] fit briller son adresse et son expérience à manier les armes’. 49 Anglo, The Great Tournament Roll, passim. 50 Franca Varallo (ed.), La Ronde. Giostre, esercizi cavallereschi e loisir in Francia e Piedmonte fra Medioevo et Ottocento (Florence: Olchski, 2010); A. M. Nagler, Theatre Festivals of the Medici (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1964). 51 Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 245-68.

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Figure 3. 3. Tournament in the Belvedere Court (1565), engraved by Etienne du Pérac.

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Well known through engravings of the event, the Belvedere courtyard provided the location for a genuinely contested tournament in Rome (1565). A long procession of knights, twelve quadrilles with each one accompanied by pages, trumpets, supporters and squires, had ridden through the streets of Rome to the applause of crowds. Once in the lists, after a series of one-to-one combats which lasted well into the late afternoon, the finale came when, after nightfall, lights shone forth from all the windows surrounding the courtyard and lit up the armour and blades of the knights. Now divided into two large companies of contestants, they came clashing together: ‘un combat en foule qui fut merveilleusement beau’ [a team combat which was marvellously beautiful], wrote La Colombière — an opinion corroborated in the contemporary Italian account [Fig. 3.3.].52 The wondrous nature of this display was to be matched by two other Italian contests: by the Guerra d’Amore performed before the Duke of Tuscany in Florence (1615) and the Festa di Saraceno put on for carnival in 1634 in Rome where the contemporary description by Cornelio Bentivoglio gives particular prominence to the verse cartels and to the elaborate floats which preceded the knights as they made their way to the lists. It was, however, the last encounter of combatants in the Guerra at Florence which attracted the most attention with a float of quite a different kind. Two fearsome steeds brought in the chariot of Mars. Driven by Fury and Impetuosity, the car entered the arena at such speed and with such violence that before it had gone half way round contestants, eager for action, split into two groups and dashed together to the delight of the crowd.53 Sometimes, local heroes replaced cherished beings from the past and became the focus of the procession, as those legendary knights from the House of Savoy (for instance) who accompanied Fame and Victory in the Turin entry of 1608.54 In all these records, the accent is on the splendour of the parade and on the magnificence of the lists. Comparatively little is said about the fighting as it was assumed, since many of the jousts had participants from many countries, that the standard of performance was high. It is clear, that organisers were sensitive to the effect that the processions through the city might have on the populace. In Toulouse (1565), for example, during a short interval in the French civil wars, although the number of arches erected to greet King Charles IX was impressive (thirteen in all), the parade of 4000 citizens was carefully monitored. They were all well equipped with arquebuses, pikes, halberds and all wearing solid helmets and body armour. They were instructed not to carry any signs or placards which had been used during the recent troubles and which might bring back in any way memories of the conflict [‘ne porter les enseignes

52 La Colombière, Le vray Théâtre, vol. I, p. 496; Italian account cited in Mario Tosi, Il Torneo di Belvedere in Vaticano e i tornei in Italia nel cinquecento (Rome: Edizioni de’ Storie et Letteratura, 1945), p. 107. 53 Cornelio Bentvoglio, Relatione della Famosa Festa fatta in Roma, 25 febbraro, 1634 (Rome: appresso Filippo de Rossi, 1634). A detailed description of the violent combat in Florence: ‘un carro tirato da ferocissimi Cavalli, sopra il quale veniva Marte dio della guerra, e haveva seco Venere madre d’Amore: lo guidavano l’Impeto, e il furore, e vi andavano sopra tutti quei ministri, che da gli antichi Poeti a queste Deità furono attribuiti. Entro questo Carro con gran furia tra la gente che obstinatamente guerreggiava, e nel passar’ per il mezzo di quella di sivise in un subito in due parti […]’, Andrea Salvadori, Guerra d’Amore; festa del serenissimo grand duca di Toscana, Cosimo secondo, fatta in Firenzo il carnavale del 1615 (Florence: Z. Pignoni, 1615), p. 41. 54 Varallo, ‘Le Feste’, pp. 480-91.

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faictes durant les troubles pour ne renouveller en aucune sorte la memoyre d’iceulx’].55 At Metz in 1603, the assembly of troops on the plain outside the city was exceptionally large, designed to parade before Henri IV and to impress on him the military power of the city, ready to serve his commands. The person heading each of the ten companies is named, their devices given, and their rich armour which ‘leur eslevoit le coeur et leur imprimoit en la face ie ne sçay quelle aggreable audace qui ne se peut exprimer’ [roused their spirits and imprinted on their faces an indescribable impression of courage]. The companies separated into two divisions to await the arrival of the cavalry whose names, devices, arms and armour are also minutely recorded [Plate II]. Although citizens, these were not amateurs, as they had — on diverse occasions (as is made clear in Fabert’s text) — served in his Majesty’s forces. The King acknowledged their support, and then enjoyed a display of military exercises and expert encounters which lasted a long time and which were echoed by the noise of trumpets and arquebuses which sounded from the city walls and from its citadel.56 There was one military spectacle that deserves particular attention since, although unique in the annals of this time, it required special preparation and rehearsals, and was an attempt to bring back to life a form of combat glorified in the ancient Roman world. This was the Pyrrhic. For his entry into Lyon (1548), King Henri II so enjoyed the spectacle of this gladiatorial contest, that his belligerent spirit demanded that it be performed a second time. Brantôme, in book II of his Vies des Grands Capitaines, declared it to be beautiful and rare, being a combat to the death in ancient mode by twelve gladiators and lasting more than half an hour.57 Soldiers drawn from the regular troops had been specially recruited and trained, and they performed their pyrrhic, constantly changing their weapons — two-handed swords, javelins, tiny swords (‘deux petites espees’) — slicing and striking blows on the ground and (at the same time) dancing to a rhythm that never flagged and was never lost. Their skill, not fully recognized by the crowd, caused fright and consternation at the beginning. The King, on the contrary, applauded vigorously their strength and their dexterity.58 Mock Sieges and Mock Battles Such a set-piece performance was unusual. Conversely, mock battles, mock sieges of castles and of cities were virtually numberless, often taking place during the celebrations of the entry itself, or on the following days. By the latter half of the sixteenth century, sieges had become the main campaign activity in land warfare since, if properly prepared, their outcome was more decisive and possibly more predictable.59 Mock sieges thus became a favoured form of recreation since, although they failed to promote individual prowess, 55 Graham and McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour, entry into Toulouse, pp. 246-75 (p. 275). 56 Fabert, Le voyage du roy à Metz, pp. 16-18; 20-26. 57 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, Seigneur de, Oeuvres complètes, 8 vols (Paris: Foucault, 1822), vol. II, pp. 331-34. 58 Cooper discusses the preparations on p. 19 of his Introduction to Maurice Scève: The Entry of Henri II; this description of the fighting and of the reactions of the crowd are in the text, sigs. Ci r-v. For a study on the Pyrrhic, see my article, ‘A Renaissance War Dance; the Pyrrhic’, Dance Research, 3 (1) (1984), 29-38. 59 Parrott, The Business of War, p. 16.

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Figure 3.4. Part of the Siege of Breda (1628), etched Jacques Callot.

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they provided important lessons in offence and defence; taught the management of large numbers of troops, their deployment and the coordination of different forms of attack and their timing; and they offered the opportunity to test and master new forms of weaponry. Their value as preparations for war as well as spectacles of recreation can be assessed from the plans that survive and from pictorial records which remain of real sieges.60 In a portfolio of maps and charts in the Cotton manuscripts in the British Library can be found a plan of ‘Terrouen’ and of the camps and works of a besieging army, prepared for Henry VIII’s successful foray on to the Continent. There are plans, too, of the sieges of Amiens, Rouen and of Saint Etienne, all towns which were successfully taken back by Henri IV as he established order in his kingdom.61 Two famous engravings recorded the sieges at Vienna (1529) and at Ingoldstadt (1549). For the former, as we have seen, when the Turks shocked Europe as they advanced as far as Vienna, Nicolaus Medleman was present and was able to publish a print the following year which gave a 360 degree view of the city surrounded by Turkish forces (Fig. 1.4). Imperial command ensured the publication of Emperor Charles V’s victory at Ingoldstadt. Drawn by Hans Mielich and published in Munich by Christof Zwikoff, it depicts the artist in the foreground on a tower in the very process of sketching that scene. He holds an inkpot and stretches out a lengthy strip of paper along the parapet before him. We catch him in this act of painting and look upon the scene, as though we are present beside him. Jacques Callot (1592–1635) was to perform the same role half a century later when he etched, in wonderful detail, the siege of Breda which had lasted eleven months. The etching was published in Antwerp in 1628 [Fig. 3.4.].62 The range and frequency of mock sieges can be judged from 1509 in Milan when, to entertain Louis XII during his entry into the city, a fortress, defended by 500 men at arms, was demolished by a force of 2000 infantry. At Urbino, in 1517, François Ier had manufactured a miniature town of wood, surrounded by ditches on all sides. The assailants had hard work to quell the 500 defendants and the contest was (according to the chronicler Fleurange) ‘le plus approchant du natural de la guerre’ [the nearest to real warfare].63 At Christmas time, 1524/25, A Castle of Loyaltie was built within the tiltyard at Westminster to provide for the spectacle of chivalric deeds. It was a form of courtly spectacle inspired by Romance tradition, and differed from the two earlier Italian examples which had been straightforward simulated scenes of war with no story attached. Maximilian, Charles V’s nephew, had enjoyed the castle siege put on by admiral Doria in Genoa in 1548.64 We do not know whether a specific story attached to this military show, but a romanesque theme was followed at Binche in 1549 where the Emperor Charles V and his son enjoyed

60 For an analysis of the many modes of recording sieges and on the attractions of the spectacular character of siege warfare, see Brian Sandberg, ‘To Have the Pleasure of this Siege’: Envisioning Siege Warfare During the European Wars of Religion’, in Allie Terry-Fritsch and Erin Felicia Labbie, Beholding Violence in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (London and New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 143-62. 61 British Library, Cotton Manuscripts, Augustus I, vol. I, pp. 27 and 86-88. 62 For the details on Ingoldstadt, John Hale, Artists and Warfare in the Renaissance, pp. 18-21; the siege of Breda was subsidized by the Spanish Government paying 2550 livres for 200 sets, see Griffiths, The Print, Figs 20.2 and 20.3, pp. 321-22. 63 Anglo, The Great Tournament Roll, pp. 69-70. 64 K. Teodoro, La valorosa e trionfante gionta et pomposa intrata […] don Maximiliano […] nella citta di Genova con li grandi trionfi et incontro fatto per la illustrissima signoria e Principe Doria (Genoa: [n. pub.], 1548).

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the long and powerful assault upon a fortress, some thirty feet square, by 400 knights and 600 foot soldiers. They fought to release those ladies who had been kidnapped the night before during a masquerade. Both Emperor and son enthused about the spectacle, the first seeing it as an ‘essai de combat’ [training for combat], while Philip was moved because he thought it was a real battle.65 Although it appears that it was Diana who first had emerged from the fortress built on the square of S. Apostolo in Rome on 4 March 1549, there was no doubt about the serious nature of the attack on the building, as François Rabelais related in great detail in his Sciomachie.66 The fortress had been carefully constructed; each corner of its rectangular shape was pierced to accommodate cannons. Within the circuit of the walls was a tall tower, three times higher than the perimeter walls. With the presence of an enormous crowd, the Swiss guard of the Pope, pikes in hand, patrolled the square to maintain order until the fighting began. The charge came from 300 foot soldiers, all armed with pikes, supported by some fifty knights who led the furious assault. Individual and group combats alternated; one against one, two against two, knights armed with lances and closed helms. Lances, and then swords were handled with such force that the weapons flew into pieces and the ground was littered with metal debris. Eventually, the cannons began their work both from within the fortress and from without. Balls flew through the air, fires were lighted, and the fighting grew tense and grim until, finally, the castle fell in ruins. Another mock siege, performed on the castle square in Vienna (1563) for the entry of Emperor Maximilian II, was recorded in an engraving showing a similar scene: the air filled with the smoke from cannons, their fires shooting forth from all directions, with the towered fortress structure entirely surrounded by massed troops, symmetrically arranged, poised for their own part in the battle.67 By contrast, many other mock sieges seemed well-tempered and carefully organized affairs which allowed the display of knightly skills in single combat but which either seemed a show put on for a court’s delight and/or with a pre-determined outcome. Mere entertainment (but not knightly skills) was provided for King Edward VI of England in 1550 when, after supper one evening at Dartford on the Thames, together with his French prisoner the Vidame de Chartres, they witnessed an assault on a castle filled with munitions and armed men. Galleys arrived to attack the watchtower structure, and the assault began with ‘clods, squibs, canes of fire, darts and bombards’. These burst the outer walls and forced those within the tower to issue forth and drive away the pinaces, sinking one of them and forcing twenty soldiers to swim for their lives. Immediately more ships arrived under the command of an Admiral of the Fleet and, forthwith, the building succumbed, its top burst open and fell into the water. Here the King was a mere onlooker.68 But, for 65 Reulens, Litera, pp. 95-105. Another castle siege, this time mounted against the Turks, was enacted at Madrid in 1570, see López de Hoyos, Real apparato, y sumptuoso recibimiento, ff. 24r-v. 66 François Rabelais, Sciomachie, in Oeuvres complètes, 2 vols (Paris: Garnier, 1962), vol. II, pp. 579-99. 67 Wolfgang Lazius, Epitome Solenniorum, quae in Auspicatum adventum Invictiss […] Maximilian II (Vienna: Michael Zimmermann, 1563); plate 19.7 in Mulryne and Goldring, Court Festivals of the European Renaissance, p. 373, and the article by Marina Dmitrieva Einhorn, ‘Ephemeral Ceremonial Architecture in Prague, Vienna and Cracow in the Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries’, ibid., pp. 363-90. 68 W. K. Jordan, The Chronicle and Political Papers of King Edward VI (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1966), pp. 36-37.

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the assault on an enchanted castle at Bayonne on 18 June 1565 which took place after the entry of the Queen of Spain, her brother Charles IX was the principal performer. Together with other knights, they tackled the Giant who, supported by magic, guarded prisoners in the fortress. One by one, the knights challenged this adversary, and one by one they failed in their attempt to overcome him and the magic that sustained him until King Charles IX stepped forward and, through an impressive show of chivalric skills, overcame all opposition.69 This was a performance, judged by the standards of real fighting, only as effective as the attack by Prince Porcien on a paper castle, inhabited by soldiers disguised as monks, as reported by Jean de la Fosse in his journal for 1565.70 Naumachia It is possible that mock sieges were so popular because, of all the military shows put on during princely entries, they came closest to the experience of real warfare — an impression underlined in De Thou’s Hieracosophion where the aerial performances of an eagle pouncing on its prey is likened to the action of a cross-bow during a siege.71 This realism was also characteristic of that other military spectacle — the naumachia. Real sea fights, whether the triumph against the Turks at Lepanto (1571), or the English victory against the Spanish Armada (1588), or the perpetual naval battles at La Rochelle, inspired simulated shows of fierce naval encounters during princely entries. These simulated sea fights also had strategic and political implications which is not surprising given the insecurity of the seas at this period.72 At Lyon (1548), a city which saw regular water spectacles, rehearsals were intense for the seventy sailors, professionals in this art, who were practising to please Henri II and his Queen for their formal entry. There were jousts on the river every day during the royal stay, but two events on the water were remarkable: the naumachia in honour of the King on 27 September for which Maurice Scève’s poetic power depicted a tremendously vivid picture of the fierce action on the river. He evoked the clash of ships and arms, the noise of cannon and trumpets, and the alarming effect on the crowds spread out along the river shores. The historian, Denis Sauvage, who witnessed the battle, singled this spectacle out of all the shows which he saw in Lyon as the most magnificent,73 together with the naumachia at the Queen’s entry, when armed sailors had an extraordinary variety of weapons in addition to the instruments of war located in the vessels themselves. Fully armed, they had defensive weapons ‘morrions dorez, pavois, rondelles, targues, cymeterres… et portefanons’ [golden helmets, diverse shields, scimitars and pennants], and instruments

69 Graham and McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour, pp. 286-87. 70 [ Jean de la Fosse], Journal d’un Curé Ligueur de Paris sous les derniers Valois, ed. Edouard de Barthélemy (Paris: [n. pub.], 1866), p. 73, June 1565. 71 Ingrid A. R. de Smet, La Fauconnerie à la Renaissance. Le Hieracosophion (1582-4) de Jacques Auguste de Thou (Geneva: Droz, 2013), Book II, pp. 319-21, lines 667-74 where the bird’s flight becomes ‘un trait lancé par le bras tendu [d’une baliste]’. 72 For this and many contributions on sea warfare, Margaret Shewring (ed.), Waterborne Pageants and Festivities in the Renaissance (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013). 73 Cooper, Maurice Scève: The Entry of Henri II, p. 326.

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of attack — grenades, lances and firebombs. Using all these freely, the conflict was so vigorous, that it was reported: ‘on eust juré asseurément qu’ilz combattoient mortellement et à outrance’ [one would have sworn in good faith that they fought to the death].74 The Mantuan ambassador was equally enthusiastic about the naumachia which the king ordered to be performed at his entry into Paris (1549), ‘fù una bellissima cosa da videre’ [it was a beautiful thing to see]. Here, great care had been taken with the appearance of the thirty vessels designed to attack the fort which had been built on L’Isle de Louviers. Well-known artists were employed. Scibec de Carpi (active 1530–1559) worked on their carpentry and Lucca Penni (c. 1500/04-1556) painted the scenes on their surface. The contest went on well after nightfall, and — on this occasion — members of the Court participated.75 The following year at his entry into Rouen, the King saw acted out on the Seine the demolition of Portuguese ships, an allusion to the real struggles on the seas between the two nations at this time.76 Such references to real happenings were not uncommon, for naumachia provided the opportunity to promote nationalistic views to a large and often international audience. The most favoured theme was the conflict between Turks and Christians which continued to haunt the minds of European princes as, even after the Christian triumph at Lepanto, the infidels persisted in their raids along the Mediterranean coast, the Atlantic coast, and the Adriatic sea. The naumachia performed during the celebrations for the wedding of Ferdinand de’ Medici to Christina of Lorraine in 1589 took place in the courtyard of the Pitti palace, flooded for the purpose. Cavallino’s account of the action stressed the violence of the attacks on Turkish vessels, such that various pieces of wreckage from their ships were strewn all over the water.77 On the lake at Mantua in 1608, the confused tumult of clashing arms lasted long as the fortress on the island held by the Turks resisted for many hours. There were fierce attacks and counter attacks, until — finally — to the sound of Oriental music attempting to overcome the noise of trumpets, the fortress was taken. Once more the Turkish force had been thoroughly defeated, and Christians performed a moresca in triumph.78 On the Thames in London (1613) to mark the arrival of Frederick, Elector Palatine, come to marry Elizabeth, daughter of King James I, was enacted yet another triumph of Christians over Turks — a demonstration of Christian unity against the continuing threat of these ‘ghosts’ who seemed to inhabit every sea battle. John Taylor’s account relishes the violence, the ‘ships sunke and torn to pieces, men groaning, rend and dismembered’.79 He could have been describing a real sea fight. 74 Ibid., text, sigs. K4v-K5r; and my article, ‘Lyon: a Centre for Water Celebrations’, in Shewring, Waterborne Pageants, pp. 37-50. 75 Truffi, Giostre, p. 224. 76 L’Entrée de Henri II, Rouen 1550, Introduction by Margaret M. McGowan. Renaissance Triumphs and Magnificences (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974), sig. M 1v. 77 For an analysis of this show, J. R. Mulryne, ‘Arbitrary Reality: Fact and Fantasy in the Florentine Naumachia’, in Shewring, Waterborne Pageants, pp. 143-76, and for Florentine water spectacles, Felicia M. Else, The Politics of Water in the Art and Festivals of Medici Florence: From Neptune Fountain to Naumachia (London and New York: Routledge, 2018). 78 Breve Descrittione della Battaglia navale et del Castello di Fuochi triumphali (Mantua: Heredi di Francesco Osauna, 1608). 79 A copy of John Taylor’s original account can be found in Nichols, Progresses […] King James I, vol. II, pp. 527-611. Text partially reproduced in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 80-91.

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A more recent political triumph was performed at La Rochelle in 1632 where the central theme of the Queen’s entry was a re-enactment of the town’s defeat. It involved a naumachia, a reconstruction of the last attempt by the English navy in 1628 to break through the blockade which the troops of Louis XIII had built across the harbour.80 In many ways this outcome had been anticipated in the quadruple sea fights that had greeted King Henri III in Rouen many years before (1588). His visit allows us to appreciate just how addicted princes and their courtiers were to this kind of spectacle. The King had no decorated arches to trumpet his deeds; instead, he enjoyed four successive sea fights spread over ten days. The first was by nine or ten galliaces, magnificently painted, one of which was composed of naked negroes whose bows and arrows well-furnished with feathers did as much damage as 1000 cannonades, according to the official account. The second involved four warships, loaded with artillery, and various other vessels: the conflict here was remarkable for the hand to hand fighting with arquebuse and pike, ending with many warriors seeking refuge in the sea. The third anticipated the fall of La Rochelle. A castle was erected in the middle of the Seine, made of four towers. At its centre was a pyramid named La Rochelle. The outcome of the battle was unusual in that the castle was so well defended that it seemed to withstand all attacks. The text observed that the God of Battles gives victory to whom he pleases. Such a result was unacceptable to a Catholic monarch; so, finally, the castle was taken — ‘tout bruslée et rasée par un perpetual tesmoignage et rebellion’ [all burned and razed to the ground as eternal witness to rebellion]. In 1588, this symbolic crushing of the Protestant stronghold was more hope than truth; it was to be thirty years before the desired outcome was realized. After such a pointed political show, the fourth sea-fight enacted a traditional theme — that of Jonah and the Whale.81 Military Drills As massed companies of troops became a central feature in late Renaissance warfare, so the spectacle of military drills and simulated troop manoeuvres, a prince’s review of the army, became a regular occurrence in princely entries. They saw masses of armed soldiers grouped on the outskirts of cities, or parading through the streets. When Queen Elizabeth I travelled to cities of her realm, she was pleased to admire troop manoeuvres at Sandwich (1573). During her visit to Bristol (1574) an armed dispute between Fame and Dissension lasted until nightfall. She also witnessed there a mock siege, organized by Thomas Churchyard, which lasted three days, during which the attack by the forces of war upon the fort of Peace ended in stalemate — diplomacy having triumphed.82 Churchyard was again in charge at Norwich (1578) where military exercises were used to accustom 80 The text is reprinted in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 133-234. 81 Brief Discours sur la bonne et joyeuse reception faicte à sa Majesté par ses tres-fidelles et obéissants subjects de la ville de Rouen: Ensemble sur les recreations à elle données (Paris: P. Courant, 1588). 82 The activities of Thomas Churchyard are printed in John Nichols, Progresses, Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth [I], 3 vols (London: John Nichols and son, 1823), vol. I, pp. 393-408, and are discussed by Katherine Butler, Music in Elizabethan Court Politics (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2015), pp. 176-81. For the importance of Churchyard’s role as composer of royal progress pageants, Mathew Woodcock, Thomas Churchyard: Pen, Sword and Ego (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017).

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the Queen’s subjects to the necessity of arms.83 Such military drills were developed to perfection in Holland where Frederick V, Elector Palatine, was able to view the strength of the country’s military might at Nijmegen in 1613, and appreciate the excellence of soldiers’ handling of muskets and pikes just as they were recorded in the handbooks such as that of Jacob de Gheyn (1565–1629).84 The best printed example in England of this kind of show came in 1638 with William Barriffe (1599/1600–1643). His Militarie Discipline and Mars His Triumph — a military display and combat — was staged in the Merchant Taylors’ Hall when, armed with helmets, sword and targets, soldiers made their encounters and varied their figures ‘all according to the distinct sounds of their musick’. Their show involved the movements associated with different countries including those of the Turks. In response to the tune ‘Arme, Arme, the Saracens are landed’, in came the Saracens who fought to their final surrender before marching past to make their obeissance to the Nobility present.85 The effect of military spectacle on the spectator was anticipated, since his taste for scenes of fighting is evident from the increased interest in engraved and painted records of military activity.86 Deaths in the martial performances that accompanied princely entries were rare and injuries less severe than on the battlefield, although the tournament at Ghent in 1508 was fought to the death by twenty-two Flemish knights confronting twenty-four German opponents, wielding lance, sword, axe and mace where at least three Germans were killed.87 It seems that crowds tended to be silent as they stood in awe before the chivalric skills displayed before them in single combat. In more crowded performances, they were less easy to control, and their own noise and expressions of emotion added to the general din. Clouds of dust often rose into the air, suffocating both performer and spectator. Actual feelings experienced by the knights are rarely recorded. There is one instance when Zapata, during a team event in Brussels (1549), was obliged to move to one side, being physically unable to respond to Charles V’s call to go on fighting so out of breath was he at running so many courses.88 It is difficult to assess from records (which are so often hyperbolic in their assessments of performance) just how gifted were those powerful princes who were so keen to use entry occasions to display their talents in the lists. King Henri II was clearly an accomplished performer. Ronsard praised his horsemanship and his many martial qualities likening him to Castor and Pollux;89 while the eye-witness, Giovan Pietro Conegrani, was full of praise for the King’s ability since, in Paris (1549), he 83 C. E. McGee, ‘Civic Entertainments’, in Archer, Goldring and Knight, The Progresses, Pageants and Entertainments of Queen Elizabeth I, pp. 104-21. 84 Jacob de Gheyn, Arms drill with arquebuse, musket and pike (The Hague: S. Graven, 1607), discussed in Geoffrey Parker, The Military Revolution: Military Innovation and the Rise of the West, 1500–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988). Frederick’s review of the military drills at Nijmegen and elsewhere in 1613 is studied by Sara Smart, ‘From Garter Knight to King David’, in Smart and Wade, The Palatine Wedding, pp. 169-203. 85 William Barriffe, Militarie Discipline and Mars His Triumph (London: Gertrude Dawson, 1661). 86 For a study of depictions of themes associated with war, John Hale, Artists and Warfare, and Monographien zur deutschen Kulturgeschichte herausgegenben von Georg Stein Lausen Georg Liebe: Der Soldat in der deutscher Bergangenheit .15-18 jahrhundert (Leipzig: Eugen Diderichs, 1899). 87 Philippe Augustin Chrétien Kervyn de Volkersbeke, Joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur Maximilian I [Ghent, 1508] (Leipzig: C. Muquardt, 1850), tournament on 24 February, p. 24. 88 Fallows, Jousting, p. 392. 89 ‘Un Castor en chevaux, un Pollux il estoit / Au mestier de l’escrime, il saultoit, il luttoit, / Et nul ne devançoit ses pieds à la carriére, / Et nul ne combatoit si bien à la barriere, / Soit qu’il fust en pourpoint ou vestu du harnois’, Ronsard, Oeuvres, Le Tombeau de Marguerite de France, vol. II, pp. 904-15, ll. 187-91.

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broke an incredible number of lances [‘il Re, che ruppe un numero incredibile di lancie’].90 Zapata reported that Philip II looked marvellous in the saddle, but (he added) the King never broke many lances, ‘for this is not just the truth, it is a known fact’;91 although he apparently performed well in the tournament in Toledo after his entry there with his Queen Elizabeth of France, as Covarrubias recorded: ‘Su Majestad y todas los demás tornearon muy bien’ [His Majesty, in all the encounters, tourneyed really well].92 King Charles IX was renowned for his eagerness to fight. Already at the age of fourteen the Venetian ambassador reported that he was especially fond of every weapon of war and of equestrian exercises. A report on hand to hand fighting in the Great Hall of the Louvre (1570), ‘un fort beau combat à la barrière’, suggests that the King excelled in this kind of exercise.93 Yet many of these encounters were either indecisive or the outcome was determined in advance. At Tournai in 1513, accompanied by the Duke of Suffolk, King Henry VIII showed off his skills against all comers before a picked audience, ‘où led. Seigneur se porta triumphamment en la présence de ladicte Dame de Savoye et ledit Seigneur Archiduc’ [future Emperor Charles V].94 Catherine de Médicis, made sure that the tournament at Bayonne (1565), involving British knights (led by Charles IX) and Irish knights, was inconclusive so as not to offend her Spanish guests as they were at that time hostile to the English.95 As has been noted, several days before, Charles IX had emerged triumphant in the combat against the Giant and his magic, for no one but the King could carry off that prize. Similarly at Binche (1549), Philip was the only knight capable of pulling out the magic sword from the pillar when after two days of competition against many obstacles all other knights had failed.96 There was one occasion where the unexpected was, apparently, planned in advance. The climax to the tournament performed in Rome (1565) in the Belvedere courtyard came with an improvised military spectacle. Two enormous bands of knights [‘due squadroni di tutti combattenti’] began an improvised collective movement [‘con un movimento collettivo improviso’], their exchanges of blows with different weapons, enhanced by firework display that lit up the courtyard, represented ‘a true occasion of just war’ — according to the Master of Ceremonies — ‘una verra occorenza di giusta guerra’.97 In conclusion, in order to illustrate the dual response of spectators, we might consider two martial shows. The first was at Dijon (1564) at the start of Charles IX’s journey through France, when the turbulent warrior Saulx de Tavannes arranged for a sequence of tournaments of such violence that they seemed more like contests between enemies,

90 Truffi, Giostre, p. 222. 91 Fallows, Jousting, pp. 66-67. 92 Sebastien de Covarrubias Orosco, Relación y memoria de la entrada en esta ciudad de Toledo, pp. 91-93. 93 Reported by Denis Crouzet, La Nuit de la Saint Barthélemy. Un rêve perdu de la Renaissance (Paris: Fayard, 1994), pp. 237, 299. 94 Adolphe Hocquet, ‘Tournai et l’occupation anglaise (1513-19)’, Annales de la Société historique et archéologique de Tournai, nouvelle série, vol. 5 (Tournai: H. et L. Casterman, 1900), 302-464, details from manuscript 314, Bibliothèque de l’Hôtel de Ville. 95 See Laurent Odde’s study, ‘Political Magnificence: Deciphering the Performance of the French and Spanish Rivalry during the Entrevue at Bayonne’, Sixteenth Century Journal, 46 (1), spring (2015), 29-53. 96 J. C. Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage fait par tres Haut et très Puissant Prince Don. Philippe […] depuis l’Espagne jusqu’à ses domaines de la Basse Allemagne, 5 vols (Brussels: Archives générales du Royaume, 1873), vol. III, pp. 81-136. 97 Tosi, Il Torneo, pp. 107-09.

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so much so that the Queen Mother wanted to know what it was that made her very soul tremble so violently. The constable of France, Duc de Montmorency, explained that it was merely the usual games enjoyed by Tavannes who had boasted that he could make their Majesties shake with fright.98 Thus, the emotions of fear thoroughly engaged those who looked on. The second spectacle occurred at Jågerndorf in 1610. This offered a controlled knightly display where, in running at the quintain, each cavalier maintaining almost a regular musical rhythm, ‘followed one after the other with lowered spears which they shattered gracefully’.99 All sense of violence has disappeared and the crowd, in silence, could appreciate the nature of movements so well orchestrated, approving the poise and grace of the knights.

98 Graham and McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour, p. 85. The story is told with relish by Tavannes himself, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 8 (1564), p. 277. 99 Text 3 in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 74-79.

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Chapter IV

Representations of Victory and of the Conquered

A grim-faced woman, barefoot with arms outstretched, is standing on trophies of war; she is surrounded by prisoners, naked and heaped up among discarded weapons. Some are dead while others kneel in supplication. This is the depiction of Victory and its consequences, in an etching by Frans Floris (1517–1570). It represents the two sides of triumph — victory and the conquered. The Latin verses printed below make it clear that this Victory is a paean of praise for the House of Austria in its triumphs over the Turks, and constitutes a presage for the continuing success of Philip II. This powerful image was designed by Floris for the Genoese arch at Prince Philip’s entry into Antwerp (1549) [Fig. 4.1.]. The words describing this vision of Victory, recalled by Calvete de Estrella, underline the passion felt as the woman extends her arms towards the Prince: La victoire armée de sa lance, avec casque et bouclier, au centre d’un groupe d’hommes d’armes et avait les bras nus, les mains tendues vers le prince, toutes couvertes du sang des blessés et des mutilés qu’elle foulait aux pieds d’un air de mépris et qu’on reconnaissait à leur habit pour les Turcs.1 [Victory armed with a lance, with helmet and shield, is at the centre of a group of men at arms. Her arms were naked, and she stretched out her hands towards the Prince, all covered with the blood of the wounded and the mutilated whom she trampled upon with her feet in a gesture of contempt, and who, from their clothes, could be recognized as Turks]. This is no isolated image of Victory. The figure was prominent in most entries as a mark of homage and of warning which could be seen when Charles V visited Naples (1535) and Milan (1541), and it continued to follow the Emperor and his successors. It adorned the frontispiece of Leonard Fronsperger’s (c. 1520–1575) military work Kriegsbuch (1566), showing Victoria clad in garments of war, the eagle of empire standing behind her, and beneath her feet huddled the shattered remnants of vanquished Turks and other nations [Fig. 4.2.].2





1 Print no. 230 in Carl van de Velde, Frans Floris: leven en werken (Brussels: Palais des Academien, 1973). The Latin text reads: ‘Haec tibi promisa est foelix Victoria fatis / O magnum genus Austria dum, o ter maxima proces / Vincere tu saevos Turcas terraque marine / Tu vincere manus, tu nectere colla Philippe / Quiype potes; cecinet tibi sic iam poscere Parcas / Praesagus figurum vates de mole superba’. Citation from Juan Christoval Calvete de Estrella, El felissimo viaje d’el muy alto y muy poderoso Principe Don Phelippe hijo d’el Emperador Don Carlos Quinto Maximo desde Espana a sus tierras de la baxa Alemana (Amberes: Martin Nucio, 1552), French translation used throughout: Jules Petit, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. IV, p. 47. 2 Engraved by Jost Amman (1539–1591), Leonard Fronsperger, Kriegsbuch (Frankfurt: ben Georg Raben, 1566).

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Figure 4.1. Victoria, engraved by Frans Floris.

r ep r esen tation s of victory a nd of the  conquered

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r ep r esen tation s of victory a nd of the  conquered

Figure 4.2. Victoria, engraved Jost Amman.

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In such depictions of the brutality of war, artists displayed their incredible expertise which writers acknowledged could be beyond the power of words. The author of the account of Louis XIII’s entry into Avignon (1622) freely admitted the superior power of paint as he tried to convey the horrible aspect of captives’ visages imprinted simultaneously with suffering and desires for vengeance: Ces paroles ne vous en feront pas concevoir l’horreur, qu’eust fait en ces tableaux de les voir soubs leur poil herissé, soubs leur front de suif et ces sourcils renfrognés roülants felonnement leurs yeux homicides et s’entremorguans de travers avec un grincement de dents contre le Ciel et une escume sanglante, que la rage leur faisoit ietter parmy leurs fieres menaces.3 [These words will not convey the horror that was represented in these paintings which depicted their bristling hair (of the captives), their forehead bathed in sweat and those rolling eyebrows beneath which their wicked, murderous eyes rolled, looking askance with grinding of the teeth against Heaven and that bloody froth which their anger made spout out amid their proud menace]. Images of War in Art and in Poetry Endowed with such skills, artists were keen to exploit the limits of appropriateness in art as Rubens was to do in his juxtaposition of the heroic and the anonymous in death in the series he created (c. 1617) for a cycle of tapestries on the Obsequies of Decius Mus.4 Poets, however, were undaunted and demonstrated that they were not far behind in meeting the challenge of creating the noise and spectacle of war. Ronsard, for example, opened his Hymn to Pollux and Castor with: ‘il me plait d’imiter le tonnerre’ [it pleases me to imitate thunder], and demonstrated his capacity to evoke the clamour and chaos on the battlefield in his Exhortation to Henri II, 1558: J’oy le bruit des chevaux, j’oy le choque des armes, Je voy de toutes parts le fer estinceler, Et jusques dans le ciel la poudre se mesler; Je voy comme forests se herisser les piques, J’oy l’effroy des canons, foudres diaboliques, J’oy faucer les harnois, enfoncer les escus, J’oy le bruit des veinqueurs, j’oy le cri des veincus, J’oy comme on se tue, et comme l’on s’enferre, Et dessous les chevaux les chevaliers par terre, Je voy dans un monceau les foibles et les forts Pesle-mesle assemblez, et les vifs et les morts.5 3 Annibal Gelliot, La Voye de laict ou le chemin des Héros au palais de la gloire, (Avignon: J. Bramereau, 1622), p. 129. 4 For a discussion of Rubens extraordinary painting (inspired by Leonardo’s Battle of Anghiari), see Renzo Baldasso, ‘Killing and Dying at the Death of Decius Mus’, in John R. Decker, and Mitzi Kirkland-Ives (eds), Death, Torture and the Broken Body in the European Art, 1300-1650 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015), pp. 137-55. A preparatory drawing for the painting can be found in the Wallace Collection. 5 Ronsard, Oeuvres, vol. II, p. 532, L’Hynne de Pollux et de Castor, ll. 1-8; Exhortation au camp du roy Henri II, written in August 1558 when Henri II and Philip II confronted each other near Amiens, Oeuvres, vol. II, pp. 804-07, ll. 70-80.

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[I hear the sound of horses, the clatter of arms, I see everywhere shining steel, and gunpowder mixed in right up into the sky; I see forests of the thin blades of pikes; I hear the fearsome din of canons, diabolical thunder bolts; I hear harnesses being broken and swords thrust through; I hear the triumph of the victors and the cries of the vanquished; I hear how one kills, how one thrusts the weapons forward; beneath the horses, lie knights on the ground, I see heaped up the weak and the strong, all mingled together the living and the dead]. In the same way as Floris, Fronsperger and Rubens had depicted the devastating vision of battle, Ronsard here calls up the sound and sight of the fighting. He brings in the noise of cannons like some diabolical thunder bursts; the specific sounds of arms and armour in preparation; the cries of triumph and defeat; and the ghastly spectacle of bodies massed together in heaps on the ground, the dead indistinguishable from the living. The figure of Victoria was adopted by Antoine Caron in a drawing designed to please the warlike tastes of King Charles IX, and at the same time, to lead him towards clemency and peace. The King is depicted on horseback, led by Victory/Pallas trampling over the corpses of horses and soldiers. The scene is set between two straight columns carrying Charles’ device ‘Pietate et Justicia’ as the goddess guides him from the suffering inflicted by war towards virtue and peace.6 Another drawing by Caron emphasized the King’s delight in triumph [Fig. 4.3.]. At the climax of his entry into Lisbon (1581), war and desire for peace were again brought together when Philip II, after viewing a series of arches intended to display both the might of the city and its new monarch’s extraordinary virtues, listened to hopes for guidance and the restoration of Lisbon’s former glory spelled out after so many years of troubles and travails brought by war and the Plague: ‘Esta cidada de Lixbon que ha muitos annos padece grandes naufragos e trabalhos de pestas e guerra’.7 Similarly, the final arch erected to honour Prince Albert and Archduchess Isabella when they entered Tournai as Governors in 1600, showed an elaborate triumphal chariot. Drawn by two elephants, the princely couple rode over ‘la figure d’un homme furieux, armé et ayant autour de soy diverses sortes d’armes et instrumens de guerre’ [the figure of a man in fury, armed and surrounded by all sorts of weapons and instruments of war]. The text makes clear that this depiction of victory over uncontrolled violence was a sign of hope and of the civil strife that had all but ruined the provinces which had once enjoyed renown and prosperity.8 Similar scenes were to confront the couple when they visited Valenciennes where on the arc du Beffroi appalling conditions were depicted. Below the chariot of Phoebus and Diana, were the ruined lands of Belgium, ‘incultes et arides, couvertes de ruines, de temples renversés, de maisons écoulées’ [arid and uncultivated, covered with ruins, collapsed temples, and houses

6 Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, ‘Allégorie aux guerres religieuses’, XXV, fig. 95, p. 101: ‘Toi qui submarche avec que tant d’escus, / Tant de corps mortz et tant d’hommes vaincus, / Et qui, aymant Piété et Justice, / Par ta Pallas es sainctement guidé, / En la suivant tu te verras aydé / De la Vertu alencontre du Vice’. 7 Guerreiro, Das festas, cap. xli, p. 126. 8 ‘par où estoit desmontré l’espoir et confidence que l’on avoit que leurs dictes Altesses estoient pour mettre, de brief, fin aux troubles et guerres civiles et intestines, ayant par tant d’années travaillé et presque ruyné ces provinces si renommées et fleurissantes’, pp. 194-95, A. de la Grange, ‘Les entrées des souverains à Tournai’, Mémoires de la société historique et archéologique de Tournai, 19 (1885), pp. 5-321.

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Figure 4.3. King Charles IX on triumphal car (1571), drawing Antoine Caron.

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broken and abandoned]. They were peopled by men of war and decorated by pillage and death. Such scenes were intended to alert the new Governors to the necessity of peace. The planners of this entry (as well as for the joyous reception into Antwerp a few months earlier) wanted to ensure that Isabella — in particular — recognized her new role as that of a peacemaker.9 Analogous ideas and hopes were expressed in Louis XIII’s entry into St Jean d’Angély (1620) where the first arch depicted the King trampling upon the trophies of his enemy;10 or in Paris (1628) where, in the rue S. Jacques, an image showed the King in a triumphal car receiving the crown of Clemency from the hands of Victory who hovers above the monarch’s head.11 The image of Victory offered artists untold resources and, in princely entries, they put it to multiple uses. One explanation for this variety, in addition to the obvious desire to glorify a prince’s achievement in war, may be gleaned from an interpretation given to the image, Victoria, by Daniel Hopfer (c. 1470–1536) who, among the many etchings he created, depicted History and Victory together under a trophy where Victory dictates what the historian should inscribe on his tablets. Hopfer’s interpretation points to the infinite diversity in the representations which might be furnished by the artist since war, ruled by Fortune, was such an uncertain activity and peace (though desirable) was an insubstantial concept.12 Ambivalence in the Vision of Triumph and Defeat The double vision of Triumph and Defeat, and the ambivalence it projected, was — as Biondo reminded us — inherent in Roman Triumphs. He cited the joint ceremonies enjoyed by the Emperors Vespasian and Titus where multiple scenes depicted both the misery and triumph in all their battles. They showed fortified cities ruined, the enemy in retreat — now fleeing, now captured and humiliated, alongside triumphing soldiers exulting in the glory. This recollection of a double vision of triumph brought to the humanist’s mind an analogous contemporary scene. Biondo recalled the same contrasting elements present in the processions for St John the Baptist’s anniversary in Florence when, every year in the month of June, citizens could engage again with ‘Romani vittoriosi’ triumphing over their enemies in spectacles of blood and fire.13 The frequency with which trophies won in battle were prominently displayed in entries recognized this ambiguous nature of the Triumph. They spoke at one and the same time of victorious encounters and of heavy defeats with the spoils of war (armour and weapons) piled up in great heaps at the point of entry as, for example, into Cracow (1587), for the



9 See the discussion by Margit Thofner in ‘Marrying the City, Mothering the Country: Gender and Visual Conventions in Johannes Bochius’s account of the Joyous Entry of the Archduke Albert and the Infanta Isabella into Antwerp’, Oxford Art Journal, 22, (1) (1999), 3-27, and the details for Valenciennes given by Th. Louise, La Joyeuse Entrée d’Albert et d’Isabelle à Valenciennes, 29 Février, 1600 (Valenciennes: Lemaitre, 1877), pp. 24-28 (p. 27). 10 Entrée royale faite[…] en la ville de Sainct Jean d’Angely, 1620, p. 10. 11 Machaud, Eloges, pp. 29-31. 12 See John Hale’s discussion, Artists and Warfare, pp. 203-05; the image is reproduced on p. 205. 13 Biondo, Roma Trionfante, for the triumphs of Emperors Vespasian and Titus, ff. 370-71; for the celebrations in Florence, f. 376v.

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welcoming of king Zygmont III; or were carefully arranged on columns as in Rome for Emperor Charles V (1536).14 These palpable signs of Victory depicted in these entries — products of military art and spoils captured from the enemy — have now become mere objects of display rendered useless for their original purpose.15 The tendency to glorify war and to trumpet the exploits of the Emperor after his victory at Tunis was widespread, for it offered hopes to Christendom, as well as providing artists with opportunities to display their skills: in capturing the energy associated with violent movement on the battlefield; in painting the torment on faces suffering the impact of hostile weapons; and in recording the ardour of the conquering and the despair of the conquered. Many had been actual witnesses to Charles V’s success in North Africa. They drew sketches of the action or provided detailed written accounts of the conflict. Fernando Gonzaga, for instance, penned his description of the encounter from the camp at Tunis in 1535 in a letter to his brother, Ercole, Cardinal of Mantua, where he set out the numbers involved, the movements of Barbarossa and the Turks, and the counter-offensive by the Christians.16 Entries into Florence and Rome in 1536 drew particular attention to the overthrow of the fortress La Goletta which had secured victory.17 Fear of the Turks and the urge to display success brought the same topic into the limelight at Lille in 1549 for Prince Philip’s entry, where the successful persecution of Protestants was openly displayed and was closely linked to the triumph at Tunis.18 The Christian objective was the same in both cases and nourished the will of the organisers to glorify war. Antoine Caron’s drawings were also intended to extol French victories and to relate that achievement on the battlefield to the aspirations of the young King Charles IX. In L’Histoire des rois de France, the artist recalls memorable victories by the French over their enemies: the Battle of Marignano (1515) showing the retreat and pitiable state of the opposing forces (Fig. 76); the submission of Milan to François Ier which depicts Sforza on his knees pleading for his life (Fig. 77); Charles V’s abortive campaign in Provence where his starving troops creep away from the field of battle (Fig. 82); or the extraordinary defence of Metz (1552) against multitudinous imperial forces (Fig. 93). This suite of military triumphs is recorded as exploits of heroism to be cherished and emulated. Indeed, one of Caron’s last drawings (Fig. 192) shows the monarch fully armed, brandishing sword and shield [see above, Fig. 4.3]. He is seated in a triumphal car made entirely from trophies of war thrown about haphazardly beneath him. And what makes his design most alarming is that Fury is the driver of the car pushing it

14 The Entry into Cracow of Zygmunt III, King Elect of Poland and King Designate of Sweden (Cracow: Jacob Siebeneycher, 1587), English translation in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. I, pp. 398-407; for Charles V’s entry into Rome, Ceffino, La triumphante entrée. 15 This neutralising power of victory is eloquently set forth by Nagel and Wood, Anachronic Renaissance, pp. 179-204. 16 Copia di una lettera del S. Don Ferrando Gonzaga mandata al illust. Et Reverendiss. S. Hercole Card. Di Mantoa, suo fratello observandiss. De la preza de Tunizi. Con tutte le particolarita, che suno sequite di poiche La Maesta C. a campo di Tunisi, 1535 ([n. pub.], [n.d.]). [B.L. 278 g 14 (11)]. 17 La gloriosa et triumphale Entrata di Carlo V (Roma: A. Blado, 1536); and Ordine, pompe, apparati, e cerimonie, delle solenne intrata di Carlo V Imp […] nella città di Roma, Siena et Fiorenza (Rome: A. Blado, 1536). At Rome, St Gallo’s arch was decorated with ‘una Historia grande de Trionfo dell’Africa’, emphasizing the battle at Goletta, sigs. Bjv-Bijv. 18 Philip’s entry into Lille is recorded in Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. II, pp. 143-72. The entry is discussed by Stijn Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power: The Triumphal Entry of prince Philip of Spain into Antwerp (Amsterdam/New York: Rodopi, 2012), pp. 135-38.

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along with terrifying pace.19 Fury had appeared on a final image of belligerence which was sculpted by Leone Leoni in 1558 showing Emperor Charles V energetically planting his foot on its squirming body.20 The Victor crushing unbound Evil beneath his feet became a favoured representation of personal achievement. At Toulouse in 1621, Louis XIII was depicted on horseback and in full armour trampling, with panache and evident glee, on the writhing representations of Heresy and Rebellion together. The same scene was re-enacted on the Adventus arch at Antwerp (1635) where Ferdinand was depicted as a victorious general on horseback riding over the bodies of his enemies and accompanied by Mars who also trampled over the dying.21 In evoking the origins of Florence for the edification of Christina of Lorraine when she came to the city in 1589 to marry the Grand Duke Ferdinand, Raffaello Gualterotti was at pains to set side by side its violent history and its military achievements. He goes back to the invasion of the Goths, describing in detail their cruelty and brutality; he retails the excesses of the long struggles between Guelfs and Gibellines which so frequently involved Florentines; and, in particular, he narrates the violent invasions of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, the so-called ‘il conte di Virtù’ [the count of virtue] whom he re-christens ‘il conte di tutti i vizi’ [count of all the vices] (p. 31). It was this Count who finally allowed the Florentines to show their metal. In the battle on the bridge across the Arno, the valour of the citizens, and their excellent organisation on both land and water, brought an end to the conflict: ‘le nave di Conte furon tutte rotte, arse e prise, e le genti di terra, rotte, morte, o fatte prigione’ [the ships of the Count were completely destroyed, burned and captured, and the men on the ground destroyed, made dead or became prisoners]. From this victory, all Italy was freed and Galeazzo killed [Fig. 4.4.]. In thus juxtaposing vicious and victorious encounters in battle, Gualterotti has highlighted both past suffering and past successes. The one necessitates the other, and his many prints distributed throughout his text to illustrate his histories [‘storie’] stressed the brutal nature of these military encounters.22 Two years later, in Brescia, the same evocation of dangers past and hopes for present tranquillity were vividly expressed on the arches although, on this occasion, they had a single focus: the figure of Cardinal Morosoni.23

19 Reference to these figures is to Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, pp. 85-104. 20 The image is reproduced on p. 50 of the exhibition catalogue, Carolus: Charles V, 1500–1558, Ghent, 6 November 1999 to 30 January 2000 (Ghent: Snoeck-Ducaju and Zoon, 2000). 21 Discussed by Cooper, ‘The Theme of War in French Renaissance Entries’, in Mulryne, with Aliverti and Testaverde, Ceremonial Entries, pp. 15-36. For an analysis of the image of Ferdinand at Antwerp, see Carmen Arnold-Biucchi, ‘Coins and Classical Imagery in the time of Rubens: The Stage of Welcome in Caspar Gevartius, Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi’, in Anna C. Knaap, and Michael C. J. Putman (eds), Art, Music and Spectacle in the Age of Rubens: The Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi (London: Harvey Miller, 2013), pp. 189-215, and Fig. 1, page 195. 22 Raffaello Gualterotti, Della Descrizione del Regale apparato fatto nella Nobile città di Firenze et la venuta e per li nozze della seren. Dama Madama Cristina de Loreno moglie del seren. Don Ferdinando Medici, terzo Gran Duca (Florence: Antonio Padonani, 1589). The invasion of the Goths, pp. 17-19; Guelfs versus Gibellines, pp. 26-33; Galeazzo Sforza’s violent expedition which brought the enemy so close to Florence itself, pp. 31-33; successful exploits by the citizens of Florence, pp. 34-49. Gualterotti even claims glory for Florence in the Battle of Lepanto (1571), ‘Vittoria contro l’infidele, a Gloria del Gran duca Cosimo, e di nostra città’, with a print showing the battle, p. 141. See also, La sontuosissima entrata della gran duchessa di Toscana nella città di Firenze (Ferrara: Il Baldini, 1589). 23 Alfonso Caurivole, Il sontuoso apparato fatta dalla magnifica città di Brescia […] Il Card. Morosoni (Brescia: Vincenzo Sabbio, 1591), p. 2.

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Figure 4.4. Battle on the Bridge, Florence (1598).

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The Roman Legacy Perhaps the most powerful and unashamed glorifying of war was in the forms of recording triumph borrowed in the Renaissance from ancient Rome: those triumphal arches which littered the cities of Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and those columns which imitated the monuments dedicated to Trajan and Antoninus [Fig. 4.5.].24 Giulio Romano, for the Emperor’s visit to Mantua in 1530, had erected a copy of Trajan’s column and decorated it with images celebrating Charles V as ‘the dominator of the world’. It was this same artist who had recognized the value of perpetuating such images of triumph by designing cartoons for tapestries. Thus he conceived the ten pieces of the Triumph of Scipio Africanus, supplemented by another series representing the commander’s victories in his African campaign. These were to become models for artists creating decorations for princely entries.25 A continuous display of victory of this kind was made to welcome Clement VIII when he entered Bologna in 1589, and was also envisaged by the enthusiastic planner of Henri IV’s entry into Moulins in 1595 — Antoine de Laval. Time and the inadequacy of his workmen made his plan inoperable.26 However, at Lyon in the same year, the achievements of the King of France were extolled on a column 65 feet high ‘à l’imitation de Trajan’ on which were painted ten glorious deeds culminating, at the apex, with the vision of the collapse of Rebellion falling before one’s eyes into a dark precipice.27 What made these scenes so effective was the vividness in the portrayal of achievement and the sense of the vibrant presence of the Prince himself or of the hand of God. The most spectacular visual victory came during Emperor Charles V’s entry into Messina (1535) immediately after the conquest of Tunis. During mass in the cathedral, a living firework display above the nave depicted the strong city of Constantinople decorated with Turkish banners. Suddenly from the ceiling, rays of fire pound down upon its buildings, their noisy flashes sounding like the clamour of harquebus. They rapidly engulf the city which shatters before the congregation and, in its place, appears a large crucifix which absorbed the whole attention of the Emperor.28 The feeling of actually witnessing such a resounding and uplifting experience, of being involved in the midst of attack, experiencing 24 See my article, ‘The Renaissance Triumph and its Classical Heritage’, in Mulryne and Goldring, Court Festivals, pp. 26-50. 25 Giulio Romano’s design is discussed in Dandelet, The Renaissance of Empire, p. 98. The artist’s tapestry designs are studied by Guy Delmarcel, ‘Giulio Romano and Tapestry at the Court of Mantua’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Venturi, La Corte di Mantova, pp. 383-92. A similar set on the Triumphs of Scipio was ordered by François Ier in 1532; their richness and beauty were described by Martin du Bellay, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 5, pp. 287-88. David Kunzle provides an interesting analysis of the use of tapestries in Dutch art inspired by Scipio’s example of mercy, From Criminal to Courtier, chapter 15, pp. 520-72. 26 For Trajan’s arch at Bologna (1589), see Bonner Mitchell, ‘A Papal Progress in 1589’, in Wisch and Scott Munshower, ‘All the World’s a Stage’, vol. I, pp. 115-37. Antoine de Laval’s plans are presented in detail in his Desseins de professions nobles et publiques (Paris: Abel l’Angelier, 1613), pp. 383-96. 27 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée de tres-grand, tres-magnifique Henri IIII, Roy de France et de Navarre (Lyon: Pierre Michel, 1595), pp. 89-91. Pascal Lardellier uses this text and Matthieu’s account of Marie de Médicis’ entry in 1600 as his main evidence in Les Miroirs du paon. Rites et rhétoriques politiques dans la France de l’Ancien Régime (Paris: Champion, 2003). 28 La Triomphale Entrata di Carlo V (Messina: [n. pub.], 1535); it became common practice to play out battles in the sky through the use of fireworks which usually provided a spectacular finish to a princely entry.

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Figure 4.5. Trajan’s column, engraved Etienne du Pérac.

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the demolition and victorious outcome, was something writers and artists attempted to transmit in their work for princely entries. Through such vivid re-enactments, transferring the collapse of Tunis to the longed-for submission of Constantinople, they hoped to engage spectators, make them feel in the thick of battle in a good cause, and begin to understand the significance and quality of such events. Many spectators themselves would have experienced war at first hand. They might have witnessed the butchery performed by Charles VIII’s soldiers at Fornovo in 1495 recounted in detail by Philippe de Commynes who underlined the total absence of all heroic gestures; or the rivers of blood that flowed in Capua (1501) as D’Auton’s Memoirs attempted to count the numbers of dead;29 or the din and confusion at Marignano (1515) reported by Martin du Bellay and in Pasquier Le Moyne’s diary where he stressed how the combatants could not distinguish foes from friends ‘as much because of the dust but also because of the nature of the country which was ill suited for warfare’;30 or the implementation of the scorched earth policy by Henry VIII’s soldiers in the Borbonnais (1544-6);31 or the renewed spectacle of auto-da-fé which, as has been seen, was witnessed by all princes at this time, notably by Philip II on 8 October 1559 in Valladolid.32 In 1535, Emperor Charles V was a vigorous and successful warrior. By 1549, when he entered Antwerp with his son, his age was beginning to show and — except in recollection — he could scarcely identify his own tired self with the heroic representations projected of him. Through painted visions of martial strength and achievement, Philip was to be encouraged to emulate the tremendous acts of his father. The acts themselves — in this entry — often took the form of real persons performing the work of the triumphing divine hero, so that it seemed as if the imperial and royal visitors were participating in a theatrical production, a play in which they could, as appropriate, identify with the characters or whose actions they could admire from a distance.33 The presence of the ruler playing an active role was important to the citizens who had paid good money to receive him. That presence was a necessary reassurance since the ruler, by demonstrating his imperial might, served as a guarantee of quietening wild demonstrations from impassioned souls — be they enemies from foreign lands or Protestants seeking recognition.34 Emperor Charles V’s response to such a duty came through the recognition of past deeds of heroism, but also with the silent approbation that future triumphs would be a task for his son. By contrast, Elizabeth I, when she entered London in 1559, engaged

29 Reports from the battles of Charles VIII in Italy are detailed in Le Roux, Le Crépuscule de la chevalerie, pp. 135, 200. 30 Martin du Bellay describes the obscurity of the battle ‘à cause de la grande poulcière que faisoient les deux armées, que nul ne cognoissoit l’autre’ [because of the great dust made by the two armies, such that no one could recognize the other], Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 5 (1515), p. 125, and J. Snow-Smith, ‘Pasquier Le Moyne’s 1515 Account of Art and War’, 173-234, (pp. 212-13). 31 See Neil Murphy, ‘Violence, Colonization and Henry VIII’s Conquest of France, 1544-46’, Past and Present, 233 (November 2016), 13-52. 32 See Edouard, L’Empire imaginaire de Philippe II, p. 122. 33 See discussion in Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power, pp. 73-90. The Emperor had first encountered the spectacle of multiple bodies acting out moral tales in Douai (May 1516) where over a thousand performers were installed on thirteen theatres: La très excellente et très joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur notre Sire, lors Roy, au Mois de May 1516., ed. H.-R. Duthilloeul, Archives historiques et littéraires du Nord de la France, series 3, vol. 6 (1857). 34 For a discussion of those thinkers who sought to legitimize absolute and imperial power as a way of safeguarding peace, see Crouzet, Dieu en ses Royaumes, pp. 448-49.

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in dialogue with the persons depicting her ancestors. She voiced her pleasure at the sight of so many distinguished forbears, noting verbally how they represented and encouraged good governance. When she came to the figure of Deborah, she acknowledged aloud the appropriateness of the parallel with her own acts and Deborah’s achievements.35 Often, however, it was the pen of the narrator recording the happenings at the princely entry which created the vivid presence of the King, brought him to life, and replayed his glorious deeds. Thus, Henri IV at Lyon in 1595, when he confronted the ‘arc consacré aux victoires’ [the arch devoted to victories] saw re-enacted before him the combat before Arques, the triumph at Dieppe, the battle of Ivry and the action at Dijon. Pierre Matthieu (1563–1621) historiographer royal and author of the official account commissioned by Henri IV himself, does not simply describe the images on the arch as records of victory. He brings the action to life and, at the centre of each drama, he places the King, startlingly prominent in the contest, easily identified by the white plume which crowned his helmet and which indicated to his loyal troops (as well as to the enemy) precisely where he was on the battlefield.36 At Arques, Matthieu presents him as a ‘foudre de guerre…bouillonnant d’une genereuse envie de voir tout, de faire tout, d’estre par tout’ [the thunder of war…boiling with eagerness to see everything, do everything and be everywhere]. The vivacity and energy comes over as the historian enters into the detail of military manoeuvres, interrupting his report with a wealth of information, providing the reader of his text with a deep understanding of motive as well as of action, which would have been denied the mere spectator of the event. Similar justifications are given for the battle at Dieppe and the triumph at Ivry where Matthieu discusses the changing tactics, the role of the cavalry and especially the vibrant activities of Henri IV who went from one company to the next, animating them, exhorting them. The look on his face filled with joy and constancy fired their hearts and redoubled their efforts.37 The historian’s commentary on the action at Dijon, on his own admission, almost wanders into the realm of dreams [‘il semble que ce soit un songe, un enchantement’], as the decisive presence of the King, forcing his small band of warriors onto the offensive gained the day: further proof, writes Matthieu, of the providential nature of Henri IV. In commissioning Matthieu’s account, the King recognized the political significance of the entry and the opportunity it gave to trumpet abroad not only his victories but also the justifiable reasons for military action on this scale, making plain his key role in the conflict and offering hope for peace and reconciliation.38 When it came to the entry into Avignon in 1600 of the new Queen Marie de Médicis, Henri IV could not be physically present. To compensate, its planner and narrator, the

35 [London, 1559], The Royall Passage of Her Majesty from the Tower of London to her Palace of Whitehall, with all the Speeches and Devices, both of the Pageants and otherwise […] (London: for John Busby, 1604). That Elizabeth I thoroughly understood the parallel with Deborah is set forth by E. W. Talbert, The Problem of Order (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1962), chapter III, ‘Sedition and Pageantry’, especially pp. 78-88. 36 For the importance of ‘l’écharpe blanche’ [white scarf] as a military emblem and of its diverse uses in addition to that displayed by Henri IV, see Denise Turrel, Le Blanc de France. La construction des signes identitaires pendant les guerres de religion (1562–1628) (Geneva: Droz, 2005). 37 Matthieu, L’Entrée, p. 51: ‘Il passa d’escadron en escadron les animant, priant et exhortant d’un visage plein de Maiesté, d’allegresse, et de constance, à redoubler leurs coeurs et leurs forces’. 38 Ibid., p. 53. See my article, ‘A Question of Authenticity: Pierre Matthieu, Creator of Entries and Historiographer Royal’, in Canova-Green, Andrews with Wagner, Writing Royal Entries in Early Modern Europe, pp. 245-58.

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Jesuit André Valladier (1565–1638), installed a complex image of the King in the minds of spectators and readers alike. He envisaged a moving picture, made up into a labyrinth of seven labours of Hercules matching perfectly ‘les vives couleurs de vostre Maiesté victorieuse’, and which he extended throughout the entry in a series of arches, theatres and trophies. It was not, he insisted, ‘une peinture muette’ [a silent picture], created simply through the use of colours, but a speaking portrait of which the conception and model derived from Hercules. Acknowledging the influence of Matthieu’s account of the Lyon entry of 1595, Valladier inserts himself into the narrative announcing on the title page that the subject of his book is the ‘Fortunes, Batailles, Victoires, Trophées, Triomphes, Mariage et autres faits héroïques et memorables’ [Fortunes, Battles, Victories, Trophies, Triumphs, Marriage and other memorable and heroic deeds] of the august, all Christian king Henri IV [Fig. 4.6.]. The first arch, ‘l’arc des Batailles et des Victoires’, assembles all the victories: at Ivry, Arques, Dijon and Amiens. On the arch, they appear as Emblems and it is Valladier’s job to decipher their full meaning [see below, Fig. 6.2]. This allows him to intervene personally and, in doing so, he brings out the abiding presence of the King whose activities are painted in full light whether he is depicted at the head of 600 horse, entangled in the press of weapons, striking blows at every obstacle, or emerging from the fray at Ivry, his battered armour shining like a streak of lightning, his thundering cutlass red with foreign blood, his visage brilliant in its valour, his scarf, plume and his whole person startlingly white with joy and glory.39 This dazzling vision suffices in itself to dismiss the enemy armed to the teeth. The simple presence of the King has put his foes to flight. The historian, De Thou, recorded that Henri IV had deliberately adorned his helmet that day at Ivry so that he might be seen from afar: Le Roi… avoit fait mettre ce jour-là sur son casque une aigrette blanche, afin d’être connu de plus loin.40 On the arch dedicated to the triumph of Justice in the entry of Louis XIII into Paris in 1628, a large painting depicted both Peace and Justice, and yet suffering was to be the main message. Both Peace and Justice are victorious and they hold Mars and War in chains. Behind each figure in one perspective could be seen a country desolated, scorched by fire and peopled with murders; in another was a city in ruins. Jean-Baptiste Machaud, intervenes at this point in his narrative to justify the extent of the devastation shown: ‘s’il est permis d’en dire ce que cette peinture nous suggère’ [if it is allowed to explain what this painting signifies to us]. In the first place, he writes, the scene demonstrates how justifiable the representation of such ruins are. They are a proper response to the audacity, the insolence and the criminal deeds of those who now suffer. In the second place, such palpable devastation provides a

39 André Valladier, Le Labyrinthe Royal de l’Hercule Gaulois Triomphant (Avignon: Jacques Bramereau, 1600), p. 64; ‘se veit estinceler son cuirasse, comme un esclair, fourbi de coups, son coutelas foudroyant, et rougissant du sang estranger, sa face flamboyante de hardiesse, son Escharpe, son panache, toute sa personne blanchissante de gloire et d’allegresse’. References to Henri IV’s victories are given; Ivry, 63; Arques, p. 65; Dijon, p. 66; and Amiens, p. 68. 40 De Thou, Histoire, book LXXXXVIII (1590), p. 125. This vision might well have seemed shocking in the eyes of some like Pietro Duodo, Venetian ambassador at the French court in 1589, who was disturbed by Henri IV’s evident martial expertise and bravery in battle. In his view, monarchs should direct military operations from a distance and not become embroiled in the thick of the fight. Such behaviour seemed an anachronism, suggests John Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620 (London: Fontana, 1985), p. 30.

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Figure 4.6. Title page, engraved Matthaeus Greutner.

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good example to others that a similar fate awaits anyone who turns against his King. It was natural and deliberate, therefore, for arches while promoting the good effects of Victory, should also project its evil consequences; and these are everywhere apparent in princely entries. As the same King, Louis XIII, made his way towards Avignon (1622), where he was to be given a royal reception, the signs of war marked those who accompanied him: bandages decorating their faces covered the fresh wounds which they had sustained in battle. These were to be interpreted as marks of honour and signs of courage.41 A Taste for Scenes of War Clearly, no simple explanation accounts for the extent of the spectacle of suffering exposed in these entries. The context of continuous conflict in this period meant, in reality, that prolonged suffering, made all the more severe by its unpredictable character, was widely experienced. Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) summed up the situation in the early seventeenth century when, in his work on the Laws of War and Peace, he wrote: When arms have once been taken up there is no longer any respect for law, divine or human; it is as if, in accordance with a general decree, frenzy had openly been let loose for the committing of all crimes.42 Jean de Léry (1536–1613), in his devastating account of the famine endured during the siege of Sancerre (1573), gave some idea of the extremities of suffering experienced during many months. His report helps to explain the process of dehumanizing victims, exposing lacerated corpses to the avid gaze of onlookers (as during the nights of Saint Bartholomew, 1572), forgetting that they were human beings at all.43 This was a time when the psychological and practical effects of war in peace time were difficult to assess, especially when facts and rumours circulated abundantly by means of broad sheets, read out and interpreted freely in public.44 Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, offers a hint of the problems when she writes about judging the truthfulness of the word. Embroiled in a complex exchange of letters with Catherine de Médicis, she strives to interpret and to forget; ‘en ce temps de guerre beaucoup de choses s’estoyent dictes et escriptes, qu’il ne falloit plus ramentevoir’.45 [In this time of war, many things were said and written which were better not to remember]. Nothing was certain and being shocked was a daily occurrence.

41 Machaud, Eloges, pp. 77-79; Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 63. 42 Cited in J. R. Hale, Renaissance War Studies, chapter 12, ‘The Sixteenth Century: Explanations of War and Violence’, pp. 335-58 (p. 341). 43 Jean de Léry, L’Histoire memorable du siège et de la famine de Sancerre (La Rochelle: Antoine Chuppin, 1574). In his evocation of suffering in the town, Léry often borrowed verbatim from Flavius Josephus, Histoire des Juifs, and he was to use much of the material again in his L’Histoire d’un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil (La Rochelle: Antoine Chuppin, 1578). For this continuity, see Hope Gilden, ‘Communities under Siege: Léry, Famine and the Cannibal Within’, in David La Guardia, and Cathy Yandell (eds), Memory and Community in Sixteenth-Century France (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015), pp. 73-86. 44 For a discussion of the significance and impact of pamphlets on sixteenth-century minds, Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 76-88. 45 Cited by La Guardia in his article, ‘Two Queens, a Dog and a Purloined Letter; on Meaning as a Discursive Phenomenon in Late Renaissance France’, in La Guardia and Yandell, Memory and Community, pp. 19-36 (p. 28).

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Even the sober historian, Jacques-Auguste de Thou, could not refrain from reporting the detail of violence when he heard of the total sack of cities: there had been Rome in 1527; and in his lifetime: Rouen (1562), Harlem (1573) and Antwerp (1576). War, its brutality and its dire consequences, were ever present in the historian’s mind. When he had composed his Hieracosophion years before, he could not refrain from likening an eagle’s descent upon his prey to the behaviour of the Turks and the Spanish in the siege of Malta (1565); to the Germans who devastated French lands; and to the French themselves who indulged in civil war.46 Falconry was supposed to be a great source of joy and relaxation in peacetime; yet it, too, was ‘un combat miniature’ which King Henri IV of France (who loved the sport) regarded as most advantageous in cultivating the assiduity, courage and prudence required in real warfare.47 Fears and obsessions generated the fury of devastation: the haunting presence of the insolent and imperious Ottomans; and the Catholic obsession with heretics not only for the damage they inflicted on images and churches, on the remains of saints whose bodies were dragged around the streets before being dismembered and then sold to butchers, but also for the riots they incited so that — as Lowenstein has demonstrated — it seemed right to hunt them down as though they were wild animals.48 Some revelled in the slaughter, exhilarated by the excitement of killing. The conduct of the French at Marignano (1515) for instance, had provoked untold dismay, as Paolo Giovio reported in his History: the French did not wage war in the Italian style, he wrote, that is to say humanely, but with barbarous cruelty.49 What was more, in times of peace, they carried their barbarism with them, to the extent that François Ier was obliged to issue edicts against those who, fresh from long wars, had become Adventuriers, gens vagabonds, oiseus, perdus, meschans, flagiteux à tous vices, larrons, meurdriers, rapteurs et violeurs de femmes et de filles, blasphemateurs et regniers de Dieu, cruels, inhumains, immisericordieux, qui font de vice vertu, et sont precipitez en l’abisme de tous maulx, loups ravisseurs faiz pour nuire à chascun.50 [Adventurers, vagabonds, idle, lost, wicked, open to all vices, thieves, murderers, rapists violating women and young girls, blasphemers and deniers of God, cruel, inhuman, without mercy, making virtue out of vice, and are thrust into the abyss of every evil, raging wolves created to do ill to everyone]. The ordonnance went on to detail the atrocities these creatures visited on innocent people and ended with the condemnation by death of all such barbarians. Such edicts (often re-issued), although demonstrating the size of the problem, did little to relieve it. Some victims sought solace in the experience of war, or alternatively, they craved for mercy following their unsuccessful attempts at insurrection. The citizens of Worcester

46 Jacques Auguste de Thou, Hieracosophion, (1582/4), ed. De Smet, pp. 241-54, lines 404-27. 47 Ibid., p. 277, lines 844-49; and ‘Epître dédicataire de Nicolas Riguault à Louis XIII’, (1612), p. 429. 48 David Loewenstein, Treacherous Faith: The Specter of Heresy in Early Modern English Literature and Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). For accounts of the dismembered bodies of saints, Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 191-217. 49 Cited by Le Roux, Le Crépuscule de la chevalerie, p. 195. 50 The ordonnance, dated 25 September, 1523, is given in full by Le Roux, ibid., pp. 287-90.

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(1486) for example, were in a state of extreme trepidation at the prospect of a visit from their King since their city had been the centre of an abortive coup against Henry VII. They received him humbly, and an actor in the guise of Henry VI was their spokesman. In their name, he expatiated on the quality of mercy; he begged for forgiveness, attempting to persuade the King — in the name of the city — to behave as he himself had done: Mek and mercifull was I evermore From Crueltie refreyning and from Vengeance.51 Years later, in Toulouse (1564), the supplication took on a more vivid aspect. Charles IX and his mother were greeted by Civil War in the guise of a woman, her teeth rusted, her mouth swollen with corrupted blood, her expression grim and wild — a savage figure intended to convey the hideous nature of war. In his harangue to the King, councillor Jean-Etienne Durand drew out the lessons from such a sight: ambition and misguided religious fanaticism were the cause of such spectacles while recognition of the need for change brings hope.52 The same lesson had been articulated by Michel de L’Hospital at Rouen (1563) when he contrasted the joyous and glorious welcome he was now witnessing to the sad and lugubrious forced entry of the King after his successful siege of that city a year earlier.53 At Ghent (1582), the Duc d’Anjou, depicted as the Sun whose warm rays came to transform the landscape, actually saw the change happen as, in answer to the supplication of the couple above him, Mars and Cruelty depart along with the darkness that had long overshadowed everything.54 The same depiction of supplication had greeted Henri III some years before in Mantua (1574). Faced with the spectacle of captives tied up and thoroughly dejected, signifying the ‘extortions, rape, violence and outrages which are the normal lot of the poor unable to defend themselves’, the King — it is asserted — will take their cause in hand, then gentleness and kindness will prevail.55 Councillor Allard was to make the same plea to Henri IV in Lyon (1595) when, in his speech, he addressed the suffering his citizens had endured, and uttered an extended plea for hope of good treatment from the King’s renowned clemency.56 By the time of the entry into Antwerp (1635), the argument had become more balanced. The Temple of Janus is presented in an ambiguous way. Its doors are opened by Fury: on one side, on its porticoes are depicted scenes of Peace — Tranquillity and Security, Repose and Concord; on the other side, there are porticoes showing the Ferocity of War — Discord and Strife, Poverty and Grief. The outcome is uncertain yet the choices are clear [see Frontispiece], thus displaying the miseries and consequences of war. In his design for the Arch of the Mint, Rubens depicted the flight of Mercury, once the proud patron and consort of the Lady of Antwerp. The god’s departure signals the loss of commercial

51 The visit is analysed by Sydney Anglo, Spectacle, Pageantry and Early Tudor Propaganda (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1969; updated 1997), pp. 28-31. 52 Cited by Cooper, ‘The Theme of War’, p. 26. 53 De Thou, Histoire, book XXXV (1563), p. 549. 54 L’Entrée magnifique de Mgr François fils de France […] faicte en la Metropolitaine et fameuse ville de Gand, le 20e aoust, 1582 (Ghent: Cornille de Rekenure, 1582), pp. 11-12. 55 Blaise de Vigenère, La somptueuse et magnifique entrée du très-chrestien roy Henry III […] en la cité de Mantoüe (Paris: Nicolas Chesneau, 1576), p. 31. 56 Matthieu, L’Entrée, pp. 98-99.

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advancement and in Rubens’s own words, penned in a letter, the city is ‘languishing like a consumptive Lady’.57 There had been no such uncertainty at La Rochelle when Anne d’Autriche visited the city in 1632. The tremendous relief at the final defeat of this stronghold of Protestantism had already been expressed at Louis XIII’s entry into Troyes in 1629 when he was on his way to deliver Casal. The focus here of all the symbolism was ‘la prise de La Rochelle’, with the King depicted now as Jupiter disposing of rebel forces, and now as Alcide or Alexander triumphing for the Faith. Daniel Defos, author of the account of this entry, began his preface by reminding his readers and his monarch of the dreadful times that war had brought to citizens everywhere: Quelle confusion bon Dieu. Quel désordre! la rebellion, la felonnie. les factions, les divisions, le libertinage, les troubles, le feu, le sang, le sacrilege, et en un mot la guerre cantonnoit, mais ravageoit les plus belles Provinces de vostre Royaume, les plus grandes, les plus riches, les plus puissantes.58 [What confusion Good God. What disorder! Rebellion, felony, factions, divisions, libertinage, troubles, fire, blood, sacrilege, and in a word: war (through the billeting of soldiers) ravaged the most beautiful Provinces in your kingdom, the largest, the richest and the most powerful]. For the Queen’s entry into La Rochelle (1632), it was as though the planners were determined to display graphically that confusion and disorder. It is worth dwelling on this remarkable entry as testimony to the most monstrous and explicit picturing of the suffering of the conquered that has been recorded in such an event, it also demonstrates (as did the entry into Troyes) how planners had recourse to historical facts to demonstrate the horrors of war.59 The city had surrendered after a fourteen-month siege in 1628, with the loss of some 15,000 souls. Daniel Defos recorded the scenes for the Queen’s entry when the city was forced to replay its defeat. The entry, conceived according to strict instructions from Cardinal Richelieu, had a multiple purpose. It was to stand as a mark of the triumph of the King’s armies; it was to re-enact the spectacle of untold suffering; and finally, it was to 57 Rubens’s letter is cited in full in Elizabeth McGrath, ‘Rubens’s Arch of the Mint’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 47 (1974), 191-217, where she examines in detail the pleas incorporated into the imagery and the strident criticism against the lack of concern of the Spanish. For a discussion on the Temple of Janus, J. Rupert Martin, The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi, pp. 162-64. 58 p. 74. The text can be found in Marie-France Wagner, and Daniel Vaillancourt, Le Roi dans la ville: anthologie des entrées royales dans les villes françaises, 2 vols (Paris: Champion, 2001), pp. 63-126. At the end of his preface (p. 75), the narrator further underlined the ills that his French citizens had suffered: ‘Point de religion, point de pieté, et point d’humanité. Nous l’avons veu, SIRE, que comme le diable est singe des oeuvres de Dieu’ [No religion, no piety, no humanity. We have seen, SIRE, how the devil is the imitator of the works of God]. The tremendous excitement at the fall of La Rochelle after so many years of combat can be seen from the fact that six engraved plates celebrating the victory were immediately commissioned for the State, see Griffiths, The Print, pp. 321-23. See also, Christian Jouhaud, ‘Dire l’événement: La Rochelle à Paris’, in Roger Chartier (ed.) Les Usages de l’imprimé (Paris: Fayard, 1986), 3e partie. 59 This emphasis on actual events rather than hiding them in myths or symbols is striking. The text of the entry into La Rochelle together with a translation into English is published in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 118-234. For a detailed account of the fall of La Rochelle from the successive defeats of the English to the construction of the dyke and the final surrender, consult Liliane Crété, La vie quotidienne à la Rochelle au temps du grand siège (Paris: Hachette, 1987).

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serve as a display of punishment for all to ponder and learn from. In his opening address to the Queen, the Sieur de L’Escale, made clear that she would see ‘the skeleton and ghost of La Rochelle’. The first large picture was conceived as ‘a prodigious carnival’ of people of all ages, acting out mummeries of an appalling kind. One person carried a dead dog over his shoulder, while (behind him) a child slowly eats at the dog’s raw ear; another licks his fingers over a dead rat or munches a wriggling lizard just prized out of a hole in a wall. Another immense canvas depicted the dead and the dying, their haggard forms detailed with infinite care in the description: eyes sightless and stark; noses transparent; skulls larger and necks longer than normal. As these bodies attempted to walk, their spindly legs made them seem as ghosts, their skin already turning green and decomposing. The most arresting scene was that painted below the Goddess of Peace on the third arch, a spectacle imagined in stark contrast to everything that the notion of Peace implies. The skill of the narrator (and that of the artist) made the image emerge only slowly with daylight breaking in on a country buried in deep darkness. As the light filters through, a cemetery appears where all the tombs are crumbling away. Suddenly, one’s gaze is arrested by the sight of a skeleton appearing. Tangled up in his shroud, he attempts to escape from the hideous block of stone that was his tomb, while another tries to heave his body up out of his burial hole, yet his frame is too fragile and his ribs are open to the air and he collapses again, back into the ground. Other remarkable postures could be glimpsed as persons emerged from the shadows, their shrouds thin and gossamer, like spiders’ webs. Finally, the light dwells on one figure at the top of the picture, holding forth a scroll on which are written the words: ‘Anna, summons spirits from the Underworld’. Such appalling images were intended to remind those who could gaze upon them of the depth and the acuteness of the pain endured by the citizens of La Rochelle, and to move the hearts of those capable of changing their plight, especially that of the Queen whose pity might intercede and obtain their forgiveness from Louis XIII.60 The starkness and explicit nature of these portrayals of suffering, although not unusual, were sometimes deliberately avoided by the planners of entries, for diplomatic or political reasons. Monuments erected to celebrate Henri III’s journey across northern Italy in 1574 were thus diversely conceived. Palladio’s arch, built to welcome the King into Venice had, on the two side openings, paintings by Veronese and Tintoretto, depicting his military successes at Jarnac and Moncontour where the numbers slaughtered were so great that they could not be counted. When Blaise de Vigenère published his account of Henri III’s entry into Mantua however, he removed all references to the evil deeds of both Protestants and Catholics as serious attempts were then being made in France at reconciling the two sides in the religious conflict. Similar reasons had prevailed at Antwerp (1549) where references to Protestant troubles were nowhere to be found on the arches or in the commentaries. The same theme of reconciliation was again dominant when the Duc d’Anjou was received into the city in 1582. A curious silence too reigned over the battle of Moncontour which should have been inscribed, along with the other royal victories, on the base of the present offered to King Charles IX on his entry into Paris in 1571. Again, it was a moment 60 Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, p. 199. Similar concerns about confusion and disorder are found in La joyeuse entrée du Roy en sa ville de Troyes […] le midy vingt cinquiesme jour de janvier 1629 (Troyes: Jean Jacquard, 1629).

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of truce between the warring factions and not a time to emphasize the large numbers of Protestants who were slaughtered in that battle; but its absence might also be explained by a remark made by the Seigneur de Tavannes (1569) who observed that ‘His Majesty would have preferred the Huguenots to enjoy respite rather than an entire victory be given to his brother’. The events of the following year, however — the massacres of Saint Batholomew — were permanently recorded. When, in 1573, Henri as newly designated King of Poland travelled to his lands across the German States, he stopped in Heidelberg where the Elector Palatine took him to visit his Picture Gallery. There, he was confronted by the sight of ‘princes massacrés’, and the Elector challenged him publicly (an incident reported intentionally by the Protestant Agrippa d’Aubigné): ‘Vous avez exercé le meurtre sur vos subjects, plus fidèles, désarmez’ [you have murdered the most loyal of your subjects when they were without arms].61 Henri’s response is not recorded; yet he was to arrive in a country where opponents to his rule had conscientiously distributed images of the massacre on which the most gruesome acts of torture were depicted with both Charles IX and the future King of Poland shown as approving spectators.62 While one can understand that a permanent theatre of war encouraged artists to record pain and suffering as well as victory, it does not altogether explain why such images of atrocity proliferated on festival monuments. Other factors were at work. There was abroad at this time an undeniable taste for the representation of suffering and disaster which can be found in engravings, in histories of the period, in the volume of pamphlets published by Protestants and Catholics, and in illustrated texts.63 The evidence which will be discussed here is mostly drawn from Northern Europe where, as John Hale and Luc Racaut have shown,64 a market for engravings with military themes had established itself in the early years of the sixteenth century in Germany, in the Netherlands and — to some extent — in France where the Wars of Religion were most rampant. By 1605, specific privileges were issued to cover wood and copperplate images and texts regarding ‘news, victories, sieges

61 Tavannes, Mémoires (1569), p. 339. Agrippa d’Aubigné, Histoire universelle, vol. IV, p. 197. On the nature of the violence endured during and after the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, see Tom Hamilton, Pierre de L’Estoile and his World in the Wars of Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), especially chapter 3. 62 The information is given in the Memoirs of Choisin who accompanied the French ambassador to Poland in late 1572: ‘Toutes les semaines, on apportoit des peintures où l’on voyoit toute manière de mort cruelle dépeinte: l’on y voyoit fendre des femmes pour en arracher les enfants qu’elles portoient. Le roy et le duc d’Anjou y estoient dépeints spectateurs de ceste tragédie et avec leurs gestes et des paroles escrites, ils montroient qu’ils estoyent marry de ce que leurs exécuteurs n’estoient assez cruels’ [Every week were brought in paintings where one could see every manner of cruel death depicted: one could see women split open so that the child they carried could be snatched out. The king and the Duc d’Anjou (future Henri III) were shown as spectators to this tragedy along with their gestures and their words; the pictures showed how they (the king and the duke) were annoyed that the executioners were not cruel enough], cited in le Marquis de Noailles, Henri de Valois et Pologne en 1572, 2 vols (Paris: Michel Lévy Frères, 1867), vol. II, pp. 124-25. 63 For an analysis of the many pamphlets describing atrocities, physical suffering, and diatribes written by both French Protestants and Catholics, Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 194-232; for the gleeful tones of those Catholic writers exulting over the deaths of Huguenots during the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, Sydney Anglo, Machiavelli. The First Century, Oxford Warburg Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), Part II, The Rhetoric of Hate, pp. 229-70; and for Germany and Luther, Peter Matheson, The Rhetoric of the Reformation (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1998). 64 Hale, Artists and Warfare, passim, and Luc Racaut, Hatred in Print: Catholic Propaganda and Protestant Identity during the French Wars of Religion (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002).

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and the capture of cities’.65 Soldiers like Fronsperger recorded their knowledge of war; a typical example of his experience occurs in the pull out before woodcut CLV in his Kriegsbuch (1566) which conveys the fury and energy of the battlefield. Historians, if they wanted to tell the truth, were obliged to include reference to such uninhibited violence. De Thou, laconically and memorably, shows death as entertainment, while François de Belleforest in his Histoire des neuf roys Charles de France, although expressing horror at what he is obliged to recall, nonetheless details this scene: C’était un piteux spectacle que de voir les pauvres gens d’Eglise traînés, fouettés, pendus, essorillés et châtrés, au grand mépris et du ministère et du renom ancien de ce royaume, qui sur tout autre a porté le titre de douceur et de courtoisie.66 [It was a piteous spectacle to see those poor churchmen dragged, beaten, hung, mangled, mutilated to the indifference of the authorities and without regard to the ancient renown of this realm of France which, above all others, used to carry the titles of gentleness and courtesy]. Belleforest’s juxtaposition of traditional noble values and present degradation brings out sharply the deterioration. At the time when Belleforest was completing his Histoire, Antoine Caron was painting his series of The Massacres of the Innocents, borrowing themes from Roman History to comment on contemporary concerns. According to Théodore de Bèze (1519–1605),67 such works were eagerly purchased by nobles to display them in conspicuous places in their homes. The Prince de Condé, for example, mounted his copy prominently on his walls for all to see, recognizing the appropriateness of the subject to his own experience. That many wanted to own images of this kind is further supported by the publication, as a commercial venture in 1570, of forty engravings by Jacques Tortorel and Jean Perrissin on Les guerres, massacres et troubles advenues en France en ces dernières années. These graphic engravings eschew allegory and provide multiple specific details in an overall simultaneous narration of massacres. Those at Amboise and Cahors show figures as large at the rear of the image as at the front, bodies tumbling down and being slaughtered indiscriminately [Fig. 4.7.].68 These images found their counterpart in the many pamphlets which listed crimes and tortures as in L’Histoire du Tumulte d’Amboise, or in Destruction du saccagement, exercé cruellement par le duc de Guise et sa cohorte en la ville de Vassy.69 Both describe in lucid, almost neutral prose, the way in which the victims were shepherded like poor sheep driven on by a pack of wolves in columns between the ranks of armed men picking them off one

65 Facts recorded by Kunzle, From Criminal to Courtier, p. 458; Abraham Verhoeven was the printer granted this privilege. 66 François de Belleforest, Histoire des neuf roys Charles de France (Paris: Olivier P. L’Huillier, 1568), pp. 490-91. 67 Théodore de Bèze, Histoire ecclésiastique (1561), reported in Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, p. 21. A recent study suggest that the paintings may well have been the work of Niccolò dell’Abate, designed to decorate the king’s chamber in the Hôtel de Montmorency, Neil Cox and Mark Greengrass, ‘Painting Power; Antoine Caron’s Massacres of the Triumvirate’, in Mardock, Roberts and Spicer, Ritual and Violence, pp. 241-74. 68 Edition of the text in Philip Benedict, Graphic History. 69 All these texts are reprinted in Cimber and Danjou, Archives curieuses de l’histoire de France (Paris, 1835), Series I, vol. 5, L’Histoire du Tumulte d’Amboise, pp. 20-35; Destruction du saccagement, exercé cruellement par le Duc de Guise et sa cohorte en la ville de Vassy, pp. 103-10.

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by one as they sought to escape. Catholic writers vigorously defended, even denied the actions of the Duc de Guise and his men, charging the authors of the pamphlets with circulating false information simply to arouse the emotions of the populace.70 The Duke, in company with the Constable of France, the Duc de Montmorency, appeared before the Parlement de Paris to justify their acts, smothering their evil deeds with smooth words and maintaining that Guise himself, who had offended no one, had been persecuted.71 These works provide a guide to the deep concern felt by all sides in the conflict. Many others added to the pile of written misery by composing verses of lamentation, like Sorbin who called on all — nobles, magistrates and members of the Church — to wreak vengeance, or by inventing street songs which obliged Charles IX to issue ordonnances to forbid singing ‘chansons…tendans à la sédition’ on pain of hanging.72 As Francis Goyet has demonstrated, excesses of language were so widespread that religious opponents exchanged exaggerated commonplaces as though they were military projectiles, and he sums up the situation: ‘le conflit des lieux communs, l’affrontement des partis politiques, voilà pour la fin du XVIe siècle l’image même du chaos’ [The conflict of commonplaces, the clash between political factions, at the end of the sixteenth century, behold the veritable image of chaos].73 The most virulent explosions of emotion came in texts that were composed like Emblem books, designed to address moral concerns with (for each topic) an image, an epigram in verse and an explanation in prose. Such was the composition of that Catholic political agitator, Richard Verstegen (c. 1540–1640) whose Théâtre des cruautez des hérétiques de nostre temps, originally written in Latin and published in Antwerp, was so popular that it was quickly translated into many vernacular languages. He conceived his work as a piece of theatre in which spectators would be immediately involved, engaged in re-ordering the fragments of horror depicted in the engravings, produced by Jan Wierix (1549–1620). ‘I am giving you a mere sample’ [échantillon], wrote Verstegen, from which you can imagine a larger picture. He wanted the spectator to weep and groan at the specific acts of pain inflicted on the bodies of children, at the realistic disembowelling of men and the murder of women in their beds. Such acts, in the form presented, were clearly inspired, as Frank Lestringant has shown,74 from martyr paintings in churches in Rome where a rubric inscribed on the base of the image explained the moral import. Such acts are scattered haphazardly over the surface of each engraving. The only constant element was the presence of the murderers relishing their task or cynically looking on, unmoved. Verstegen’s language overflows as he draws attention to them. Murderers are players in the drama he is presenting: 70 Ibid., Discours au vray et en abbregé de ce qui est dernièrement advenu à Vassy, y passant Mgr le duc de Guise, pp. 111-22. 71 Ibid., Discours faits dans le parlement de Paris par le duc de Guise, et le connétable de Montmorency sur l’enregistrement de la déclaration du 11 avril 1562 sur le tumulte de Vassy, pp. 157-65. 72 Arn Sorbin, Regrets de la France. Sur les misères des présents troubles de l’an Mil cinq cens soixante sept (Paris: Guillaume Chaudière, [1568]); on street songs, see Kate van Orden, ‘Cheap Print and Street Song following the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre of 1572’, in her Music and the Cultures of Print, pp. 271-33. 73 Cited by Emily Butterworth, The Unbridled Tongue: Babble and Gossip in Renaissance France (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), p. 103 note 8, referring to Francis Goyet’s arguments in Le Sublime ‘du lieu commun’. L’invention rhétorique dans l’Antiquité et à la Renaissance (Paris: Champion, 1996). 74 Frank Lestringant, Le théâtre des Cruautez des hérétiques de nostre temps [Richard Verstegen] (Paris: Editions Champion, 1995). This edition has been used throughout. A mirror of Verstegen’s life and writings, and of his role as a popularizer of the Catholic reformation, has been provided by Paul Arblaster, Antwerp and the World: Richard Verstegen and the International Culture of Catholic Reformation (Leuven: University Press, 2004).

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Figure 4.7. Massacre at Cahors (1561).

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Vous y verrez les joueurs se plaire à répandre, à verser, à tirer le sang humain, s’y baigner, s’y étuver, se réjouir en abondance […] les ayant abattus, éventrés et écorchés.75 [You will see these players amusing themselves with scattering, pouring or drawing out human blood, bathing themselves in it, luxuriating and delighting in the abundance…having beaten, disembowelled and scorched them (their victims)]. By comparison, he notes, Greek tragedies, which humanists were then enthusiastically translating and copying, were nothing more than pale fictions. Memorials of Achievement There is no sign of victorious deeds in these portrayals of murder, yet victory and violence came together again in the same way in which they had figured on festival monuments in those memorials of achievement which princes commissioned from artists so that their heroic deeds on behalf of their subjects could be recorded for posterity. Philip and Mary, as they entered London in 1554, saw both signs of dynasty and of victory as they viewed the arch at St Paul’s yard with the arms of England and Spain entwined and below ‘pitture di diverse battaglie per mare et per terra’ [paintings of diverse battles by sea and on land].76 Similar triumphs were recorded for Philip when he visited Valencia in 1585. On an arch sitting between two columns surmounted by angels holding aloft the royal arms, was a statue of the King; he was surrounded by five nymphs representing important victories. Each one spoke of the triumphs at Saint Quentin; in Africa; the siege of Malta; the return of Granada and a naval battle. The themes in the verses they chanted were taken up again on the great tableau in the Market Place depicting the destruction of the Turkish fleet at Lepanto, followed by a succession of paintings representing the original five victories evoked by the nymphs.77 Such pictures were regularly destined as decorations for walls of palaces, as Kliemann has demonstrated,78 so that the Prince could remember and gloat over his deeds of heroism and their crushing effects, and incite his subjects to further triumphant violence. As we have seen, at the moment of the Emperor Charles V’s abdication in 1555, Hieronymus Cock dedicated to the new King Philip designs for twelve tapestries which recorded his father’s famous victories. These became important vehicles of propaganda for the Spanish dynasty and its imperial claims. Remembrance was a key feature of court life. Thus, those who wished to remember the feats of Maximilian I could gaze on the battle of Regensberg (1504) sculpted in 1563 on his mausoleum by Alexander Colyn (1527/9-1612); Frenchmen could admire the battles won by François Ier, sculpted on his funeral monument by Pierre Bontemps 75 Lestringant, Le théâtre des Cruautez, p. 50. Verstegen targets England in particular (pp. 76-84, 125-47); France (pp. 88-112); and the Netherlands (pp. 113-24). 76 La solenne et felice Intrata, f. 65v. 77 Henrique Cock, Añales, pp. 225-33. 78 J. Kliemann, Gesta dipinte. La grande decorazione nelle dimore italiane dal’400 al ‘600 (Milan: Silvana, 1993). A good example can still be seen in the Ashmolean Museum: The Battle of Pavia, painted in the Netherlands c. 1525–1528, Timothy Wilson (ed.), The Battle of Pavia (Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2003).

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Figure 4.8. King Henri IV before Dieppe.

(c. 1505/10-1568/70); while both Philip II (1589) and Henri IV (1610) were celebrated for their glorious victories in elaborate ceremonies in Florence when great series of engraved canvases covered the entire walls of the Church of St Lorenzo, and which could be recalled and admired by the large crowds attending these solemn occasions.79 Giuliano Giraldi published an account of this celebration of Henri IV’s life as a memorial to the benefits he had brought to his people and to the example he had set for others. Each of the twenty six paintings is described and accompanied by an engraving, many showing the King in the thick of battle [Fig. 4.8.].80

79 For an analysis of the use of the ionic form on his sepulchre to convey François Ier’s belligerence and ‘douceur’, see Yves Pauwels, ‘Portrait du Roi en architecture: Le Tombeau de François Ier à Saint Denis’, in Bruno PeteyGirard, Gilles Polizzi and Trung Tran (eds), François Ier imaginé (Geneva: Droz, 2018), pp. 395-408. For Henri IV and Philip II, see Eve Borsook, Art and Politics at the Medici Court: the Funeral Décor for Henry IV of France (Florence: Olschki, 1969) and John A. Marino, Philip II’s Royal Exequies in Two Italian Cities: his Deeds and Virtues as Seen in Florence and Naples (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013); and, most recently, Paul Mironneau, ‘Une vie d’Henri IV sous le regard florentin. Le cycle funéraire de San Lorenzo 15 septembre, 1610’, in Nativel, Henri IV, pp. 199-217. 80 Giuliano Giraldi, Esequie d’Arrigo quarto christianissimo re di Francia, di Navarra (Florence: Bartolommeo Sermatelli e fratelli, 1610).

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Figure 4.9. Battle of the Defenders (1615), etched Jacques Callot.

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Figure 4.10. The Battle, Misères de la Guerre (1633), etched by Jacques Callot.

The church had been opened to the people so that they could take in the messages depicted on the images which, themselves, recalled vividly the representations which they had seen on architecture created for entry ceremonies. Here again, Henri IV (as at Lyon, 1595 and at Avignon, 1600) was shown triumphing at the battles of Arques and Ivry, and succeeding against all the odds at the sieges of Amiens and Maumilian. Gestures of remembrance were also enacted by Marie de Médicis who, in her Gallery at Fontainebleau, ordered the walls to be covered with paintings displaying the battles and the victories of her spouse. Five great tableaux adorned each of its two long walls crafted, just as she had commanded, ‘que les victoires et les triomphes du roi fussent [soient] peints en la façon des triomphes des Romains’. Although the Gallery was subsequently destroyed, contemporary

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descriptions of the Palace of Fontainebleau by Dan and Guilbert testify to the Queen’s intentions inspired, as they were, by imperial and princely entries.81 In his Mémoires/Journaux, Pierre de L’Estoile often brought together presages of death and suffering alongside plans for festivity. In 1610, for example, he noted that ‘this season brings great rumours of war’. Plans were actively going forward for the coronation of the Queen and for her triumphal entry into the capital, while — at the same time — preparations were underfoot for ‘la guerre partout’.82 The most skilful and realistic images of such twin 81 The paintings, commissioned by Marie de Médicis, are discussed by Colette Nativel, ‘Henri peint par Marie’, in her edited volume, Henri IV, pp. 27-40. 82 L’Estoile, Mémoires/Journaux, Book X, p. 155.

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activities were found at the end of our period in the etchings of Jacques Callot (1593–1635). These were much celebrated during his lifetime and they blended both the splendour and the horror of spectacle. Princes sought him out that he might record their shows with his skill which could at once capture minute detail of gesture and dress, and evoke an overall scene with all its populous excitement. In Florence, he recorded many such scenes. The most notable, in our present context, was the Mostra della Guerra d’Amore, performed for the Duke of Tuscany in Florence (1615). His etching of the Combat des Tenants shows the great mêlée at the centre of the courtyard with crowds of knights ready to plunge into the battle. The verve and activity is shared by the vast audience assembled around the combat area with figures leaning out of windows and perched precariously upon the roofs [Fig. 4.9.]. Once Callot had returned home to Lorraine (1621), among many other interests, he sought to record the Misères de la Guerre in two series. A small set of six etchings was followed, in 1626, by eighteen etchings covering many aspects of war. These were published under royal licence by his friend Israël Silvestre in 1633. The Battle (number 3) encapsulates many of Callot’s qualities: his powers of observation, his attention to detail, the vitality of gesture and movement. Here, the fury of military engagement is surrounded by swirls of smoke and dust; horses and bodies are strewn across the foreground, with fresh troops rushing in to participate [Fig. 4.10.]. It is tempting to interpret these images of war as satirical reconstructions. They may have been so, but given the range of Callot’s activity and his keenness to record accurately the detail of human actions, they may be no more than faithful depictions of his own observations. They do, however, illustrate contemporary obsessions with representations of violent crowd scenes.83 Two contemporary observations help clarify the issues which this chapter has sought to examine. The first derives from a general address to princes which can be found at the beginning of the description of the second arch at Louis XIII’s entry into Aix (1622). The author sees the need to offer two different kinds of homage; (i) expressions of Victory, Thunder and Conquest for the fortunate Emperors of this world; (ii) the sweet names of Restorers and Conservators of the lands of their fathers expressed in terms of Piety, Clemency, Wisdom and Magnanimity. En vain, sur vos Arcs triomphaux faites vous lire les titres de Grands, de Victorieux, de Tonnerres, de Conquerans, d’Heureux, d’Augustes, si l’on n’y voit aussi ces beaux, ces doux noms de Restaurateurs, de Conservateurs, de Peres de la Patrie, et pour cet effect ceux de Iustes, de Pieux, de Clements, de Sages et de Magnanimes.84 [On your triumphal arches where you read titles such as Great, Victorious, Thunderous, Conquering, Fortunate, like Augustus, (you read) in vain if one does not also see depicted there these sweet names of Restorer, Preserver, Father of the Country, and moreover those of Just, Pious, Clement, Wise and Magnanimous].

83 For ready access to the etchings, see Callot’s Etchings, ed. Howard Daniel (New York: Dover Publications, 1974); Les Misères de la Guerre mises en lumière par Israël Sylvestre (Paris: avec privilege du Roy, 1633). Scholarly works include: Pierre-Paul Plan, Catalogue raisonné (Brussels-Paris: Librairie nationale d’Art et d’Histoire, 1911), Daniel Ternois, Jacques Callot. Catalogue complet de son oeuvre dessiné (Paris: F. de Nobele, 1962). 84 Discours sur les arcs [Aix, 1624], p. 5.

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Both sides of the Prince’s duties have to be shown. They go together for tributes of triumph and glory are empty of meaning if they do not lead directly to beneficial outcomes for the Prince’s subjects. It is noticeable that in identifying the two aspects of homage due to conquerors, suffering is suppressed in the service of peace and accommodation. The second observation comes from an oration delivered by Stephen Limbert before Queen Elizabeth I on her visit to the city of Norwich in 1578 which the Queen declared ‘It is the best that ever I heard’, and which drew attention to the unique situation of her country: There can be called Englande another worlde […] For where as all landes on every side of us are afflicted with most grievous warres, and tossed with the floods of dissension, we onely, your highnesse governing our sterne, do saile in a most peaceful haven, and severed from the worlde of mischiefes.85 In demonstrating how England is another world, how it differs, how peace and prosperity there reign supreme, Limbert has evoked the contrasting conditions which prevailed in the rest of Europe where scenes of victory and its dire effects, co-existing on monuments created for princely entries, provided a kind of antidote for the minds of spectators preoccupied with the miseries and the excitements of war. The prevailing temper of the times gave artists opportunities to demonstrate their ability to paint force in all its aspects, showing an understanding of the overwhelming feelings of despair that accompanied triumph. They had regard for victims as well as for the victors.

85 The Joyfull Receyving of the Queenes most excellent Maiestie into her Highness Citie of Norwich: the things done in the time of her abode there, and the dolor of the citie at her departure (London: Henri Bynneman, 1578). The exclamation from the Queen is given in Nichols, Progresses […] Elizabeth [I], vol. II, p. 159.

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Chapter V

Mythological Representations of Victory and Violence

The abundance of mythological representations of disorder and triumph on the monuments erected for princely entries had, by the third decade of the sixteenth century, become mandatory. Myths were portable, and their dynamic imagery could be constantly adapted by planners and artists. They could be modified to suit the personal needs of a particular prince; adjusted to comment upon specific political conditions; shaped to teach citizens and princes lessons in governance; and displayed with energy to remind spectators of familiar heroes stamped with their own expectations for excitement and hopes fulfilled. Scenes of gods and of heroes from legend had acquired rich resonances. They were spelt out in Renaissance dictionaries of myths with explanations of their many meanings, in the Mythologiae of Natalis Comes (1520–1582), for example, or in Giraldi’s (1479–1552) De deis Gentium.1 From these, artists could pick and choose elements which invited virtuoso treatment — such as the spectacle of muscular strength triumphing over the bodies of victims strewn upon the ground while, at the same time, suggesting the sound, movement and colour of combat. They relished the opportunity to comment upon, and perhaps influence, the conduct of public affairs. Poets, too, seized the chance to demonstrate the power of their art, responding to current events, counselling princes by bringing before them enticing fables explored, extolled and explained in the music of their verse. Their selection of themes was never arbitrary. They could be inspired by earlier examples from the same city where town councils kept careful records of previous entries; or planners would copy and try to outdo famous examples that had aroused comment and admiration; or a theme might be chosen because it offered counsel on current political problems. It is the purpose of this chapter to analyse how far four major themes, all designed to depict violent triumph and drawn from mythology and — in one instance — from biblical sources, were used and modified for princely entries. The Labours of Hercules, Jupiter’s triumph over the Giants, Jason and the Golden Fleece, and Gideon — man of God — have been selected because they were frequently exploited by artists, show variations of application to contemporary needs, and display Victory and Violence in equal measure. The discussion will largely focus on the visual representations designed for entries, but — from time to time — will refer, for corroboration and analysis of meaning, to tapestry hangings which adorned the streets or decorated the banqueting hall where celebrations were often the climax to the whole event.2 Their themes could have been chosen such as the histories of

1 Natalis Comes, Mythologiae (Venice: Comin da Trino, 1567; Lelio Gregorio Giraldi, De deis gentium (Basle: Jownnes Opinorum, 1548). 2 Thomas P. Campbell, Henry VIII and the Art of Majesty: Tapestries of the Tudor Court (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007).

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David or Solomon, or the story of the destruction of Troy which offered brutal scenes of battle not only on the stages erected during entries (that of Queen Mary into Paris 1514, for instance), but also in the decoration of the great halls used to welcome visiting princes and engraved upon their armour. These themes tend to have been concentrated in the early decades of our period: at Bruges (1471); and at Tournai (1489–1490). Some planners might combine three or four themes at once. Doubtless, some of these, such as Hercules and Jason, had become so familiar (to the educated, at least) that they could easily be coupled together. They were used to praise Louis XII at Lyon, 1507; to acknowledge Charles V as restorer of the Golden Age in Milan, 1541; to explain the virtues of good action to Prince Philip at Tournai (1549); and to approve the handover of power from the Emperor to his son..3 At Avignon in 1622 — Jupiter was added in order to extol the nobles who had fought in the armies of Louis XIII and who are, at one and the same time, ‘braves Argonautes’ and ‘Hercules’. Their chief is ‘Jupiter’ from whose throne of glory ‘Les Geants se voyoient foudroyez’ [the Giants found themselves blasted out of the sky], and the King is also ‘Hercule’ who squeezed Antaeus to death. Both Jason and Jupiter reappeared in Lyon (1622), and in Paris (1628) to celebrate Louis XIII’s defeat of the heretics where the King was presented again on L’Arc de la Clémence as Hercules, famous for his Force and Courage as well as for his Clemency. Such fusion should not be interpreted as indicating the paucity of the planners’ imagination. On the contrary, resort to myth was a way of showing heroic stature, and tripling the mythological references (as will be argued in the chapter on hyperbole) served to demonstrate that such fictions highlight the realities which, because they actually happened in the spectators’ lifetime, go beyond the stuff of fable.4 Hercules and his Twelve Labours The most ubiquitous presence on triumphal arches was Hercules and his Labours, and to this theme most attention will be given, partly because of the sheer quantity of its uses, but also because — through this legend — it is possible to examine the diverse interpretations explored through mythological representations, many of which are picked up again in the three remaining themes. The universal application of the legend in court culture from medieval times has been well established with the overview by Marc-René Jung who traced the traditions through the work of Raoul Lefevre (Travaux d’Hercule, 1468) to its use in the time of Henri IV. The renewal of the legend, interpreted as a source of virtue, has been examined by Erwin Panofsky. The specific exploration of the employment of Hercules to the figure and achievements of Henri IV was explored by Vivanti; and Christian Biet has studied Hercules as being at the origins of the House of Navarre.5 All these scholars

3 De la Grange, ‘Les entrées des souverains à Tournai’, pp. 130-32. 4 George Guigue, L’Entrée de Louis XII à Lyon; Gelliot, La Voye de Laict (1623); Le Soleil au signe du Lyon (Lyon: Jean Jullieron, 1623); [ Jean Baptiste Machaud], Eloges (1629). 5 Marc-René Jung, Hercule dans la littérature française du XVIe siècle. De l’Hercule courtois à l’Hercule baroque (Geneva: Droz, 1966); Erwin Panofsky, Hercules Prodicus, trans. and ed.  Daniele Cohen: Hercule à la croisée des chemins et autres matériaux figuratifs de l’Antiquité dans l’art plus récent (Paris: Flammarion, 1999), pp. 50-199; Corrado Vivanti, ‘Henri IV, the Gallic Hercules’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 30 (1967), 176-97; and Christian Biet, ‘Les monstres aux pieds d’Hercule. Ambiguité et enjeux des entrées royales ou

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differentiate between the two figures of the hero: Gallic Hercules reflecting the virtues of eloquence and wisdom, chiefly — but not exclusively — applied to French kings; and the battling Libyan Hercules who became the property of Emperor Charles V, as it had been of his predecessor Maximilian I who had taken on the role of Hercules at the crossroads in a drama staged at his court where, at the highpoint of the entertainment, the Emperor chose the path of Virtue.6 Emperor Maximilian II owned a suit of armour (known as the armure d’Hercule, c. 1555–1560) on which were inscribed all the exploits of the legendary hero.7 The Habsburgs, Valois and Bourbon monarchs did not have the monopoly. Many princes adopted the name of Hercules (Ercole d’Este, for example)8 to inspire them and to trumpet abroad their courage and vigour. Erik IV, King of Sweden emulated the ancient hero by sporting armour which depicted Hercules killing the dragon in the Garden of Hesperides.9 Lorenzo the Magnificent had in his chamber depictions of the Labours of Hercules painted by Antonio del Pollaiuolo (1429/33-1498) — to serve as a constant reminder of virtue and achievement.10 Henry VIII not only dressed himself as Hercules when he confronted François Ier at Guisnes in 1520, he was encouraged by Nicolas da Modena (1490–1569) — the Italian painter whom he retained in his service — to have the lower level of the three tiers sculpted on the interior and south facades of his new palace at Nonsuch decorated with the feats of the legendary hero.11 He also stocked his royal wardrobe with versions of the story of Hercules. When the inventory of the royal goods was taken after his death in 1547, depictions of Hercules were by far the most popular tapestries, represented by nine sets, containing about fifty-four hangings.12 Pope Leo X, too, saw himself depicted as Hercules in his entry into Florence in 1515,13 while Margaret of Austria, when she returned to Spain in 1499, had taken with her seventeen tapestries from her collection including a set depicting the History of Hercules. Emperor Maximilian I valued such adornments and ordered fine tapestries on the theme of Hercules to be woven to hang as inspiration in his largest hall, as is noted in the inventory made at his death in 1519.14 Queen Claude, for her part, was entertained in similar surroundings in Paris (1517)

l’encomiastique peut-elle casser les briques?’, XVIIe siècle, 212 (3) (2001), 383-403. The Labours of Hercules were already exemplary in ancient times, as evidenced by their presence on sarcophagi, see Kathleen Wren Christian, Empire without End: Antiquities Collections in Renaissance Rome, c. 1350–1527 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2010), Figures 240 and 255. 6 See L. B. T. Houghton, ‘The Golden Age Returns: Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue in the Political Panegyric of the Italian Courts’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 78 (2015), 71-95. For earlier associations between the legend of Hercules and Maximilian I, William McDonald, ‘Maximilian I of Habsburg and the Veneration of Hercules; on the Revival of Myth and the German Renaissance’, Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 6 (1970), 139-54. 7 Sous l’égide de Mars, cat. no. 63. 8 A. G. Dickens (ed.), The Courts of Europe: Politics, Patronage and Royalty, 1400–1800 (London: Thames and Hudson, 1977), p. 91. 9 Sous l’égide de Mars, cat. no. 48. 10 See Uffizi Gallery, Florence, c. 1470. 11 Campbell, Henry VIII, p. 273. 12 Ibid., pp. 237, 267, 310 and 327. 13 De Ingressu Summi Pont. Leon X [1515], Descriptio Paridis de Grassis (Florence: apud Caietarum Cambiagi, 1793); for other sources, see John Shearman’s article, ‘The Florentine Entrata of Leo X, 1515’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 38 (1975), 136-53. 14 Iain Buchanan, Habsburg Tapestries (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016), p. 63.

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when, for her banquet, the Great Hall of the Archbishop’s palace was lined with woven stories from — among others — the Hercules legend.15 In the Netherlands, engravers continued to lavish care on producing cartoons of the legend for tapestry makers. Michel van Orley (c. 1496–1556) drew the twelve Labours for such work, while Hieronymus Cock (1518–1570), about 1555, reworked ten designs by Frans Floris who had played so prominent a role in the entry into Antwerp (1549).16 These records bear eloquent testimony to the continuing strong popularity and to the inspirational quality of the legend. But what of its use in princely entries proper where the mode of presentation — through paintings, sculptures, devices and emblems — paralleled the way hangings ostentatiously lined the walls of ceremonial spaces? It was the very quantity of the Labours, as well as their intrinsic qualities of violence, which attracted artists to use them in almost every circumstance from the figure of the hero in full armour (rather than with his usual attributes), fusing legend and real person, and who spoke in Charles VIII’s voice at his entry into Vienne (1490), to the unfolding of Henri IV’s successful military career which formed the conception and entire structure of Marie de Médicis’ entry into Avignon (1600). The modes of representation, too, were infinitely varied. When Juana, the future Queen of Portugal, entered Lisbon in 1552, preparations had been long under way, and all the merchants in the city vied to produce works worthy of her new status. The triumphal car which had been used by her mother, Empress Isabella, was refurbished and decorated with the Labours of Hercules.17 Acted and danced dramas followed, mounted all along the triumphal route, stories from the Bible and from the tales of Ovid, reaching a climax with the travails of Hercules, interpreted with dance and music, re-playing the hero’s encounters with Atlas and a combat with giants.18 In Toledo, eight years later, Juana was present when Elizabeth of France entered in triumph accompanied by her spouse Philip II. Their journey ended at the royal palace, Alcazar, in front of which stood three statues of immense size, one of whom was Hercules. Represented as a large figure standing on a pedestal, he was instantly recognizable by his club and lion skin in the act of crushing a dragon. The Latin verses beneath spelt out the relevance to the King.19

15 Théodore Godefroy, Le Cérémonial françois, 2 vols (Paris: Sebastien Cramoisy, 1649), vol. I, pp. 478-86; and Cynthia J. Brown (ed.), Les Entrées royales à Paris de Marie d’Angleterre (1514) et Claude de France (1517). 16 Floris’ original designs are printed in vol. 2, Plates 199-209, in Van der Velde, Frans Floris; Cock’s engravings are reproduced at no. 38, vol. I, in the catalogue of his works, Joris Van Grieken, Ger Lugten, and Jan van der Stock, La gravure à la Renaissance, 26 April – 9 June, 2013, Museum Leuven, 2 vols (Leuven: Bibliothèque royale de Belgique, 2013). 17 Annemarie Jordan Gshwend, ‘“Cosa Veramente Di Gran Stupore”. Entrada Real y Fiestas Nupciales de Juana de Austria en Lisbon’, in Krista De Jonge, B. J. Garcia Garcia and A. Esteban Estringana (eds), El legado de Borgoña. Fiesta e ceremonia cortesiana en la Europa de los Austrios 1454–1648 (Madrid: Fundación Carlos Amberes, 2010), pp. 179-240. 18 Ibid. For a parallel almost a century earlier, see the mimes of Hercules Labours at the Feast of the Pheasant, described in detail by Olivier de la Marche, Mémoires, eds, Henri Baume and J. D’Arbaumont, Société de l’Histoire de France, 4 vols (Paris: [n. pub.], 1883), vol. II, pp. 118-36. 19 [Olivier Capello], La regale et trionfante entrata (1560), p. 17. The use of the figure of Hercules in commemorative portraits is examined by Friedrich Pollerofs, ‘From the exemplum virtutis to the Apothesis: Hercules as an Identification Figure in Portraiture: an Example of the Adoption of Classical Forms of Representation’, in Allan Ellenius (ed.), Iconography, Propaganda and Legitimation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 37-62. The figure of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden as Hercules Gallicus (fig. 5, p. 39) shows how the legend had penetrated Northern Europe.

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Entries in the Iberian peninsula particularly favoured the legend of Hercules. Stories of his deeds and appreciation of his virtues (especially that of Force) had been recounted many times: by Enrique de Villena (1384–1434) whose work — Doz trabjos de Hercules — might well have fed into the designs for the hero’s statue displayed to welcome Mary of Portugal into Salamanca (1543) and where the figures animated the same ancient virtues in the person of the Prince.20 In addition to the gigantic form of the hero in front of the royal palace, a remarkable depiction of Hercules Gallicus as an old man, ‘portado en forma de viejo’, appeared for Philip II’s entry into Toledo (1560), deliberately aged and wise so that he might demonstrate that triumph comes just as forcibly through experience, eloquence and good reasoning as through arms.21 Ten years later, however, it was the extraordinary effectiveness of his heroic deeds which were to come again to the fore. Juan de Mal Lara, author of a poem on Hercules (1568), used his knowledge to expatiate on the qualities of the legendary hero, a huge statue of whom adorned the first arch in Seville (1570). Mal Lara retells the hero’s triumph over monsters and dragons. He is given this exceptional status in the entry as he was claimed to be one of the founders of the city: La mensensia de la figura de Hercules viene justificada por el protagonismo que se le atribuye en la fondación de la ciudad.22 [The size of the figure of Hercules is justified by his protagonist who assigns to him the founding of the city]. Such prominence was also given because he exemplified all the virtues which rightly belong to a prince and which inhabit Philip II. Although Mal Lara could have leaned on the strong tradition which exploited the legend in Spain to project the strength and virtue of his monarch, the humanist could not resist engaging in long quotations from Hesiod, Homer, Horace and Valeriano to justify his assertions, thus preparing the ground for later commentators. In Lisbon (1581), for instance, on the first great arch facing the city, the King’s qualities are again paralleled with those of Hercules; and in the same city in 1619, where the hero’s triumph over the Hydra stood for Philip III’s demonstration of Zealous Faith in the continuing struggles against the heretics.23 Great care was taken by the planners at Pisa (1588) for the entry of Ferdinando de’ Medici as Giovanni Cervoni explained in his account. The statue of Hercules created for the Florentine merchants was again easily recognized, but he did not carry the full weight of meaning for there were other accompanying elements. Beside him, prominently placed, was a great cross; and alongside that, the figure of winged Fame, blowing both her trumpets. Cervoni offers a well-researched interpretation: Hercules, by reason of his great Virtue, offers greetings to a prince whose own ‘grandezza, virtù e valore’ are on a par

20 Edouard, L’Empire imaginaire de Philippe II, p. 44. 21 Alvar Gomez de Castro, Recibimiento que la imperial ciudad de Toledo hizo a la magestad de la reina nuestra Señora Doña Isabel, hija del rey Henrico II de Francia […] con el rey Don Phelipe nuestro Señor (Toledo: Iuan de Ayala, 1561), f. 31v; for a discussion of Isabella’s entry, see Ruiz, A King Travels, pp. 107-09. 22 For Mal Lara’s Los Trabajos de Hércules, see Pizarro-Gomez, Arte y espectáculo, p. 36. 23 The arches devoted to Hercules are reported for Seville (1570) by Mal Lara, Recibimiento, pp. 95-99; for Lisbon (1581), Guerreiro, Das festas, sigs. Ciijr-Diiijv; and for Lisbon (1619), Lavanha, Viaje de la Católica Real, ff. 3-4.

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with the ancients. These qualities ensure that he will bring security to the State, and verses from Virgil are quoted to bolster the claim.24 In France, the deeds of Hercules had been specifically related to royal performance during the wars of Religion when Heresy was seen as a many-headed serpent coiling round cities throughout France, establishing there its many heads and thus infecting the people with its insidious venom. The most powerful enactment of this nationwide disease was provided by Ronsard in L’Hydre defaict dedicated to Henri, Duc d’Anjou (future Henri III) in 1569, after his triumphs at Jarnac and at Moncontour.25 In this poem, the poet depicts the Hydra wriggling its many-headed body through France. As the serpent invaded one city after another, so the prince ‘a fait chose impossible’ slicing off each head progressively, dimming the ardent eyes, closing the foaming throat and destroying the infection of Heresy. As each head fell, the monster transformed itself, regrouped and attacked again until only one part of this ever-moving beast remained, locked in La Rochelle. This graphic depiction of the physical presence of evil, living everywhere in France, was an important source of inspiration for artists keen to encourage the belligerence of princes, and to praise their victories.26 The legend took on a particularly ambitious mode of celebrating victory in the royal entry into Rouen in 1596. For Henri IV, a huge obelisk, 65 feet high, dominated the rue aux Ours; and on it were displayed the deeds of Hercules. At its base, verses explained the correspondence between the hero of legend and the living monarch: Hercule et Henry sont semblables En vertues, en dicts, et en faicts, Sinon qu’Hercule est dans les fables, Et Henry dedans les effects [Hercules and Henri are alike / In virtues, sayings and in deeds, / Except that Hercules is legendary / While Henri lives through real successes].27 After so many years of fighting, by 1596, the Catholic League had been virtually destroyed in Normandy, and that long and arduous struggle was spelt out, transformed and then explained back again since the deeds of Hercules belonged to fable while those of Henri IV were real [Fig. 5.1.].

24 [Giovanni Cervoni], Descrizione della felicissima entrata del seren. D. Ferdinando de’ Medici […] nella città di Pisa (Florence: Giorgio Marescotti, 1588), pp. 40-48. 25 Ronsard, Oeuvres, vol. II, pp. 1073-80, L’Hydre defaict; especially powerful are lines 91-155, ‘Or ce Henry a fait chose impossible […] Courage Prince, il faut l’oeuvre parfaire’. A powerful analysis of this poem and how Ronsard gives poetic shape to the rhythms and effects of rebellion through this legend may be found in Wes Williams, Monsters and their Meanings in Early Modern Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), chapter 2, pp. 75-120; and specifically on ‘Hercules and the Hydra’, pp. 99-110. 26 Ronsard had regularly advised his monarch to imitate the deeds of Hercules; see, for example, Oeuvres, vol. I, Sonnets à diverses personnes, XL, A Luy-Mesme [Charles IX, 1563], p. 493, l. 12, ‘Sire imitez les faits de ce grand prince’ [Hercules]. 27 Discours de la joyeuse et triomphante entrée de tres-haut, tres-puissant et tres-magnanime prince Henri IIII de ce nom […] Faicte en la ville de Rouen […] le mercredy seiziéme iour d’Octobre, 1596 (Rouen: Raphael du Petit Val, 1599); for the political resonances in the entry, see my article, ‘Henri IV as Architect and Restorer of the State’, in Mulryne, with Aliverti and Testaverde, Ceremonial Entries, pp. 53-75.

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The text recognized the parallel, commenting succinctly on the obelisk as ‘vray hieroglyphe de ses [the King’s] vertus’. The reporter also drew attention to the quality of the work, for the figures were represented as though in bronze ‘avec telle perfection d’ouvrage qu’il sembloit que ce fust vrayment bronze’ [in such perfect workmanship that it really seemed made of bronze]. The obelisk, as in original Egyptian dedications, was topped with a vision of the Sun emblazoned with the arms of the King.28 Mimed drama reappeared momentarily in the Avignon entry (1600) where, at the sixth arch, Marie de Médicis was entertained by a recitation from Hercules himself announcing the final end of the Hydra — ‘Hydre, voicy le dernier de tes jours’. As he performed the cutting off of the monster’s seven heads, the choir which had accompanied the Queen through all the streets of the city was intended to sing and play on their instruments La Guerre, the famous battle song of Jannequin (c. 1485–1558).29 In the long and complicated text of this entry, Valladier discoursed ceaselessly on the Labours of Hercules, yet the visual representation of his deeds are rendered by means of emblems and devices whose message is only accessible through the words of their designer. So, on the first arch for example, hanging down at its centre and planted in the circles of the heavens, was Hercules’ club, resting there almost as if it were abandoned. As Valladier explained, it reposes there as its usefulness is at an end since Henri IV’s labours have brought peace to the land.30 Many pages are required for us to understand fully, as the appropriation of the myth has been refined and reduced to symbols, marking a transfer from a vigorous and expansive mode of representation to a verbal lecture stuffed with erudition and exegesis. The violence of action is not minimized

28 Discours de la joyeuse et triomphante entrée, pp. 51-52. 29 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe royal (1600), pp. 170-71. For the nonappearance of the music and the disasters that accompanied this particular episode in the entry, see Epilogue, pp. 244. 30 Valladier, pp. 51-52. Pollerofs, ‘From the exemplum virtutis’, pp. 49-50, 53-54, discusses Valladier’s account.

Figure 5.1. Obelisk, entry into Rouen (1596).

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but displaced in Valladier’s extraordinarily detailed evocation of Henri IV’s victories. The éclat of Valladier’s Herculean performance at Avignon (1600) resonated beyond the city and, in his work on the majesty of French monarchs (1609), André du Chesne (1584–1640) recalled the obligatory presence of the hero at such celebratory events, and recognized the figure as more important in representing Henri IV’s triumphs than an acknowledgement of his marriage to a Medici: Il est vray que ce qui se representa estoit plus pour les victoires et les triomphes du Roy, que pour la particulière action de son mariage. La ville [Avignon], n’ayant peu rendre les honneurs à la personne de sa Maiesté, les rendit à son portrait sous l’effigie d’Hercules (sans laquelle les anciens ne faisoient point de triomphe) comme Adrian fist triompher le tableau de Trajan.31 [It is true that what was represented had regard more for the victories and triumphs of the King than for the particular matter of his marriage. The city, not being able to give homage to his Majesty in person, paid their respects to his portrait in the form of an effigy of Hercules (without whom the ancients held no triumphs) as the Emperor Hadrian did for the triumphal painting of Trajan]. In fact by 1600 the use of the parallel Hercules/Henri IV had become ubiquitous. In pamphlets of the time, the assimilation of the monarch to the myth of Hercules was the comfortable panacea to clean up France [‘nettoyer la France’] from the mess perpetrated by the Catholic League and by Protestants. In these leaflets, the assimilation is progressive. After the victories at Arques (8 August 1589) and at Ivry (14 March 1590), no one could dispute the appropriateness of the image of the King as Hercules.32 The fusion Henri/ Hercule became such a commonplace that it appeared in engravings which showed the Catholic League as a multi-headed Hydra being cut down — a regular spectacle used to pour ridicule on the Duc de Guise and his partisans.33 More traditional modes of representation greeted the Cardinal Infante when, as the new Governor, he was welcomed at Antwerp (1635). Rubens used earlier models to sketch the triumph of his predecessor, Ferdinand, depicting the battle scene at Nordlingden when the Archduke had defeated the Swedish forces, and for the Governor’s triumphal car he copied his own boisterous drawing for the triumph of Henri IV, now in the Wallace Collection, referring back to other pictorial sources used in propaganda for this monarch. On the rear face of the Portico of the Emperors, Rubens displayed Hercules with brilliance and vivacity in the act of smiting the dragon who had been guarding the golden apples of

31 André Du Chesne, Les Antiquitez et recherches de la majesté des rois de France (Paris: Jean Petit-Pas, 1609), p. 575. 32 For an analysis of these pamphlets and the increased incorporation of the myth to the figure of Henri IV, see Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 455-60. 33 Martial Martin, ‘Images de propagande? Les représentations de la Ligue et l’élaboration de l’image du roi Henri IV’, in Nativel, Henri IV, pp. 91-104. See three engraved figures from Histoire de la Ligue on page 93. Hercules’ triumph over the many-headed Hydra was a particular favourite shared by other princes: Charles IX’s medal showed him as Hercules overcoming the Hydra, which represented Virtue’s triumph over Rebels (De Thou, Histoire, book LIII (1572), p. 436); Louis XIII, whose device was a club with the motto ‘Erit haec quoque cognita monstris’, on the first arch at Aix (1624), cut off all these heads and thus destroyed tyranny (Discours sur les arcs, p. 4); and Philip IV gazed on a similar representation on the Italian arch at Lisbon (1619) which meant that he would achieve world domination (Kubler, ‘Archiducal Flanders’, p. 176).

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the Hesperides. The pose of the hero here matches that of Hercules crushing Discord on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall.34 Whatever the mode adopted to display the victorious violence of Hercules, recognition was immediate. At Florence, the legendary hero figured on the great seal of the city since legend had it that Hercules, passing through the territory on his labours, came and founded Florence.35 Emperor Charles V, in 1536, admired the silver statue of the hero in the via Maggia, shown in the act of killing a golden hydra.36 At Poitiers (1539), at the beginning of his journey across France, he was faced on the first gate of the town with a medal depicting Hercules. Spelling out the attribution to himself was hardly necessary. When he reached Paris (1540), problems arose between the Chancellor and the city council regarding the present to be offered to their distinguished guest. The citizens had planned to present Charles V with two imperial eagles to be placed on the tables at his banquet. Immediately the Chancellor objected, reporting that the Emperor himself had told him that he detested such things, like those tapestries which he was always given in Flanders where one could see nothing but ‘quelques banquets, pots, tasses, ou raisins qui sont actes de mangerie’ [some banquets, pots, cups or grapes which are simply acts of eating]. Something more to the Emperor’s taste had to be devised, and Fiorentino Rosso (1504–1570) was commissioned to create a golden Hercules, holding in his hands two columns, planting them with force into the ground, on which columns were to be written the device of the Emperor — Plus Outre.37 The same spontaneous recognition was assumed in Mantua (1574) where the figure of Hercules was declared not only appropriate to the past martial deeds of the visiting French King Henri III, but expressed the military ethos of the House of d’Este; ‘où est le prince à qui les armes rient mieux?’ [where is the prince for whom arms delight more?], thus chanted the text arguing that the application to Henri is all the more notable since it comes from ‘the illustrious and famous house of Mantua with its good and glorious captains’.38 This parallel with Hercules had other meanings too. The four labours depicted on the arch before the church of St André — the hero’s triumphs over the Hydra, over Geryon, the brigand Cacus and Antaeus — refer back to the ‘peines, travaux, et dangers ausquels sa maiesté s’est exposée contre tant de monstres espouvantables’ [suffering, deeds and dangers to which his Majesty had exposed himself in the fight against dreadful monsters]; that is acknowledgement of his successes against French Protestants a few years previously. Yet the statue of Henri III which stood on the arch among these martial feats showed him robed in the garments of a Moderator and, before him on their knees, 34 Jan Caspar Gevaerts, Pompa Introitus honori Ser. Prin. Ferdinandi Astriaci Hispaniarum Infantis […] Antwerp decreta et adornata […] XV Kal. Maii, 1635 (Antwerp: Plantin, 1641–1642); see discussion by John Rupert Martin, The Decorations for the Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi. Colette Nativel reproduces Rubens’s sketches which show Henri IV in action during all his famous military triumphs: ‘Henri peint par Marie’, colour plates II-VII, figs 4-14, in her edited volume, Henri IV. 35 See Gualterotti’s evocation of the founding of the city in his explanations of the elaborate entry in 1589 which foregrounded the status and the achievements of the Florentines; Gualterotti, Della Descrizione, p. 12; ‘dal più antico Ercole detto il libico[…] per la toscana passando, ci fondasse città’. 36 [Domenico Mellini], Descrizione della entrata, sig. Dijv. 37 L. Cimber and F. Danjou, Archives curieuses, Series I, vol. 3 (Paris, 1835), p. 433 from extracts of the Registres du bureau de la ville. 38 ‘Illustre et inclite maison de Mantoue sont sortis autant de bons et excellens que de nul aultre endroict que l’on sçache, depuis les anciens Romains’, Vigenère, La somptueuse et magnifique entrée, p. 14.

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the inhabitants of unnamed provinces beseeching for peace and mercy.39 At one and the same time, reference back to past achievements implied hopes for strong defence, and also signalled deep desires to end wars and suffering. This approach, apparently arguing for complex and perhaps contradictory action, was to follow Henri III throughout his reign in the imagery associated with him — nostalgia for past performance at a time when civil war offered no hope for peace. In 1549, Philip of Spain was still learning statecraft and his journey across Europe can be interpreted as a series of lessons making clear what was expected of him once he became King. His father’s powers and achievements were therefore expanded before him in every visual form. The Hercules that stood in the courtyard of the ducal palace at Mantua in January 1549 was an early reminder of both virtue and courage.40 By the time he arrived in Antwerp some months later, the vision had been modified. Emperor and son, Atlas and Hercules, were displayed together carrying the weight of the world, but it is made clear that a shift towards Hercules as solely responsible for ruling the universe was contemplated as, in the eleventh labour, the dispute turns into resolution and Atlas concedes. Hercules now reigns alone.41 These moments of transitoriness had been captured elsewhere by seemingly unusual juxtapositions. At Rouen (1550), for the entry of Henri II, a grotto built at the entry to the bridge crossing the Seine housed both Hercules and Orpheus, the former shown in the act of beheading the hydra, the latter with his lyre poised ready to sing hymns of triumph.42 Du Chesne, in his researches on the greatness and majesty of kings, announced categorically ‘on ne sauroit faire triomphe sans l’effigie d’Hercule, ny représenter quelquechose de grand sans les exemples de ces grands Hercules Gallois’ [no triumph can be made without an effigy of Hercules and nothing great can be envisaged without examples taken from our Gallic Hercules].43 His observations emphasizing the multiple victories of French kings are certainly overblown, yet it is interesting for our purpose to note that they connect closely victory and rewards to the overcoming of evil and violence. Rewards for victory and recompense for peace took many forms. The Italian ‘Plus ultra’ shield of Emperor Charles V survives as a magnificent record of his victories over infidels. These turned him into a new Christian Hercules, seen on the shield carrying his two columns across scenes of desperate fighting, soaring above the chaos below to receive his device from Fame and to be crowned by Victory.44 The ubiquity of this legend for the imperial family can be

39 Ibid., pp. 29-31; arch depicted on p. 33. 40 Descrittione delli archi et dechiaratione d’apparato publice fatta in Mantua […] principe di Spagna 13 jan. 1549 ([n. pub.], [n.d.]). 41 The design on this transfer of power had figured as no. 5 in the set of tapestries Los Honores, see Resplendence of the Spanish Monarchy, p. 56. After Prince Philip reached the Netherlands (1549), there was scarcely a city which did not include a parallel between Charles V as the proven Hercules and his son as the hero who will fulfil the martial hopes of his sire. For details, Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, Bethune (vol. II, pp. 138-43); Arras-Ville (vol. III, pp. 47-48); Mons (vol. III, p. 165); Malines (vol. IV, pp. 12-13); Antwerp (vol. IV, pp. 48, 55 and 62); and Dordrecht (vol. V, pp. 9-10). 42 L’Entrée de Henri II, Rouen 1550, engraving opposite sig. L1r. 43 Du Chesne, Antiquitez, p. 9; Marie-Madeleine Fragonard has set Du Chesne’s observations in the contemporary context of political propaganda, ‘Recherches sur les rois anciens et politique contemporaine. Les débuts d’André du Chesne (futur) historiographe du roi [1631]’, in Nativel, Henri IV, pp. 259-70. 44 Fig. 16, p. 114 in S. Deswarte-Rosa, ‘L’expédition de Tunis (1535), pp. 75-132.

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found again in the Labours which appeared in 1575 inscribed on a tournament shoulder piece made in Augsburg by Anton Peffenhauser.45 Henri IV’s own recompense for having rid his land of rebellion, depicted as his lion ripping open the monster — ‘la rebellion de France’ — was to see his victories displayed on the surface of every monument at Lyon (1595), and to know from Matthieu’s first words that he is ‘cest Hercule des François’ (p. 1).46 The necessity of getting rid of ‘monstrueuses ordures’ [monstrous filthiness], as Du Chesne colourfully described the heretics, is spelt out again and again in entries, and the reward is always recognition of the victor’s Glory established for posterity. Even among the grim pictures of distress so prominently displayed at La Rochelle (1632), the King appears in the guise of Hercules at the top of the second arch; while, to underline the significance of this theme, the Jesuits — on the Sunday following the Queen’s entry — set up a theatre in the courtyard of their college on which ‘in accordance with the design of the triumphal arches’, the king’s victories were depicted under ‘the name Gallic Hercules’.47 One of the most efficient yet lurid instances occurred at Avignon (1622) where, on the reverse of the arch dedicated to the King’s Glory, the energy and dynamism of Hercules/Louis XIII’s actions are depicted thus: A l’exemple d’Hercule en semblable sujet, combattant pour la delivrance de son Hesione […] voyant aux abris ce prodige de rage et de rebellion pousser avec son sang de sa gueule la beauté, la cruauté, et la fureur qui l’animoit, oubliant les dangers s’est jetté dedans pour retrancher en ses entrailles les racines du mal, et s’asseurer une fois de la paix, luy ayant osté tout le pouvoir de nuire.48 [Like Hercules, in a similar action, fighting for the release of his Hesione […] seeing this prodigy of rage and rebellion in its death throes push with blood from its throat at the divine beauty, animated with all the fury and cruelty of which it was capable, [Hercules] forgetting all danger, threw himself onto its entrails to cut off the evil at its source, and having secured calm, took away all power of doing harm]. By prompt, thorough and decisive action the sea monster that threatened Hesione, sister of Priam, is disposed of. The speed, energy and completeness of Louis XIII’s annihilation of Protestant rebels in the South of France in the early 1620s are aptly captured in this legendary action. While the Labours necessarily brought into the frame images of violence and victory, Hercules himself with his strength and command over evil was also interpreted as a source of dynastic authenticity. French and Spanish monarchs both traced their sovereignty to this source. Nicolaus Hogenberg (c. 1500–1539) and Robert Péril (c. 1485 -?), in their engraved record of the Emperor’s entry into Bologna (1529), take this for granted, while

45 Fig. 113, page 113 in Peter Jezler, Peter Niederhäuser and Elke Jezler, Ritter Turnier Geschichte Elner Festkultur (Lucerne: Quaternio Verlag Luzern, 2014). 46 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée (1595). As has been noted, a parallel was already created for Henri III’s entry into Mantua (1574), see Vigenère, La somptueuse, pp. 29-31. 47 Relation de ce qui s’est passé (1632), text and trans. in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 118-234; and Mulryne, with Aliverti and Testaverde, Ceremonial Entries, pp. 207 and 223. 48 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 173. Parallels can be found in the King’s entry into Arles; [Pierre Saxi], L’Entrée de Louis XIII, The Labours of Hercules, pp. 63-64.

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the device on the pageant ship which celebrated his funeral (1558) insisted that Charles V was the new Hercules whose columns belong to the Spanish dynasty, and whose deeds reinforce that claim having extended the boundaries of his lands. As late as 1594 when Archduke Ernst (1553–1595) entered Antwerp as Governor, it was still considered essential to confirm his dynastic rights in the same manner. Displayed on the first arch designed by Spanish merchants was Libyan Hercules painted with his columns, and the inscription below explained that these were the property of the House of Austria.49 In France, the visage of François Ier and Louis XIII, bearing the distinct features of Hercules (Paris 1549 and La Rochelle 1632), was a tradition that went back at least to 1486.50 That tradition had become of the utmost importance a hundred years later when, in 1595, the Catholic League still challenged Henri IV’s right to the throne. They argued that he had no authentic claim, and it behoved his supporters, among whom was the historian Pierre Matthieu, to defend his status. The entry into Lyon (1595) was an excellent opportunity to demonstrate the authenticity of the King’s position. Genealogies of the House of Bourbon and of the Medici race were expounded in great detail in Matthieu’s text51 where he declared unequivocally: ‘La maison de Navarre est descendue d’Hercule, fils D’Osyris’ [the House of Navarre descends from Hercules, son of Osyris], that hero who freed Spain from the tyranny of Geryon. To make the claim more emphatic he cites lines from the poet Saluste Du Bartas (1544–1590).52 The relevance and momentous nature of the claim can be judged from the number of times it is repeated in royal entries, as in Arles (1622) for instance, where Pierre Saxi links directly ‘la race auguste des Bourbons’ to Hercules.53 The depiction of scenes of violence has been underlined many times. It is also important to recognize that as well as essential ingredients for establishing the prowess of the Prince, myths are equally necessary preliminaries to securing evidence of virtue. A long tradition perpetuated in stories of Hercules, such as those of Raoul Lefevre, had seen the hero as the embodiment of Christian virtues, and the thread of virtuous qualities attaching to his person continued to inspire planners of festival. In Copenhagen, where evidence for entries is comparatively sparse, in the marriage procession of Christian IV in 1634, seated on the apex of the third triumphal chariot was ‘the industrious Hercules with whom all virtue-loving persons can be compared’.54 This general assessment of these legendary qualities became more specific and more refined when artists employed Hercules Gallicus to transmit their

49 J. Bochius, Descriptio publicae gratulationis […] (Antwerp: Plantin, 1594), p. 65. 50 The Entry of Henri II into Paris 16 June 1549, Introduction, p. 29, and facsimile p. 3; on the arch of St Denis, an Hercules Gaulois ‘dont le visage se raportoit singulièrement bien à celuy du feu Roy François’ [Whose visage was remarkably like that of François Ier]; and for La Rochelle, Relation de ce qui s’est passé [1632], in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 118-234 and pp. 301-24 (p. 311): ‘L’Hercule Gaulois ayant la Taille, la Prestance majestueuse, et la face du Roy’, [Hercule Gaulois having the figure, the majestic presence and the visage of the King]. 51 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, pp. 55-64, Temple of the House of Bourbon; and pp. 64-87 supplementary commentary on the genealogy of the king. 52 Ibid., p. 29. 53 [Pierre Saxi], L’Entrée de Louis XIII […] dans sa ville d’Arles, p. 19; see also the first arch erected at Aix in 1622, Discours sur les arcs triomphaux, sig. cjr. 54 Mara R. Wade, ‘The Wedding of Christian IV, Triumphus Nuptialis Daniens, Copenhagen’, in Mulryne, WatanabeO’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 269-91; for the chariot of Hercules, p. 283.

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Figure 5.2. Arch at the Porte St Denis (1549).

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messages. Erasmus (1466–1536) had been attached to the figure of Hercules seeing in his translation of Lucian’s Heracles (1506), the hero as a mediator and a wise man.55 Andrea Alciati (1492–1550) had emphasized his magnanimity, prudence, eloquence and wisdom in CXXVIII and CLXXXI of his famous emblem book (1531), and his commentator Claude Mignault explained in full the sources in Lucian and the meanings inherent in the Labours.56 These interpretations were further elucidated by Jacobus Chichou in a commentary on the coronation of Henri II in 1547. In his extended eulogy, he expatiated on the quality and powers of the new King, ‘another Hercules’ [‘alter Hercules’], destined to triumph in wars in Europe and to remove heretics and infidels from the world.57 They were deployed in Henri II’s entry into Paris (1549) where the first arch — dedicated to Hercule Gaulois who was shown holding the four Estates of France in chains — was interpreted here as the very model of the excellence of royal virtue [Fig. 5.2.].58 After the French/Spanish marriage of 1559, the entry of Philip and Elizabeth into Toledo the following year sought to demonstrate notions of reconciliation between two kingdoms so often at war with each other, and in one of the four immense paintings mounted on the arch at the city gate was depicted Hercules Gallicus holding many persons in long chains. The inscription made clear that the royal couple must be persuaded by the hero’s eloquence, and that indulgence and understanding must prevail in the cause of peace.59 The same sentiment was expressed at Valenciennes (1600) where, on the monument dedicated to peace, Hercules held all seventeen provinces in chains, each displaying its shield and device, labelled ‘Non Armis Opus’ [Not the work of Arms] but that of eloquence through which the plea for peace is made [Fig. 5.3.].60 In fact, as Margit Thofner has shown, Johannes Bochius, in his volume which brought together accounts of all the entries of Albert and Isabella into cities of the Low Countries in 1600, projected the necessity of peace not only by emphasizing it visibly through this depiction of a community in harmony but also by his singular focus on Isabella as a figure representing limited and contractual sovereignty.61 The image recurred in Lyon (1622) where the emblem of Hercules — his lion skin — held a group of nymphs in golden chains, signifying more specifically the qualities of compassion and love.62 This legacy from the past was not always interpreted positively, as Tavannes argued (1551). He saw the image of Hercules ‘menant les peuples enchaisnez’ as a source of eloquence which inflamed their minds, intimidated both by glorifying and belittling personages and events. And, he warned: ‘combien d’injustes causes justifiées, d’hérésie semée, d’hommes tresbuchez par l’artifice 55 For Erasmus’ appropriation of Hercules, Michael Wintroup, A Savage Mirror: Power, Identity and Knowledge in Early Modern France (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), pp. 44-47. 56 Andrea Alciati, Emblemata cum commentariis (Padua: P. Tozzium, 1621), pp. 592-600 and 752-57. 57 De adeptione Regni, consecratione et coronatione Henrici secundi […] (Paris: Mattaeus David, 1547), eulogy pp. 44-81; citation p. 77. 58 Entry of Henri II, pp. 2-5. 59 [Oliver Capello], La regale, p. 17. For other depictions of Hercules in this entry, see, pp. 7-8. 60 Henricus d’ Oultremannus [Henri d’Oultremans], Descriptio Triumphi […] Alberti et Isabellae (Antwerp: Plantin Moretum, 1602), p. 267. 61 Margit Thofner, ‘“Domina et Princeps proprietaria”. The Ideal of Sovereignty in the Joyous Entries of the Archduke Albert and the Infanta Isabella’, in Thomas Werner and Luc Duerloo (eds), Albert and Isabella, 1598-21 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), pp. 55-66. 62 Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, pp. 97-98.

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Figure 5.3. Hercules holding the Provinces in chains (1600), engraved Pieter van der Borcht.

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des paroles’ [How many unjust causes are justified, heresies spread abroad, and men misled by the artifice of words].63 There were many ways of using this theme of Hercules Gallicus, the bringer of Virtue. Perhaps one of the most interesting is the double portrait depicted on the arch celebrating the victory at Arques and demonstrating martial power over evil at Lyon in 1595. On one side, Henri/Hercule faces the enemy and crushes them with all the force of his club; on the other, Henri/Hercule faces his subjects, overwhelming them by ‘le caducee de sa clemence et vertu’ [the caduceus of his clemency and virtue].64 The force of persuasion attached to this legend was significantly enhanced by the belief that Hercules/prince was created to serve as mediator between heaven and earth. The link between the twelve labours of Hercules and the twelve signs of the Zodiac had been made in the Hall of the Zodiac painted between 1522 and 1524 for the Castello San Giorgio in Mantua where the frescoes sought to make that correspondence palpable to spectators.65 Their fusion was used by planners of entries, anxious to find ways of extolling the Prince by combining evidence of military prowess with signs that spoke of God’s providential presence in the virtuous intent of the King. A precise example can be found in Louis XIII’s entry into Paris (1628) where the entire design is argued on the grounds that there are twelve royal qualities attaching to the monarch and to his virtuous rule; there are twelve deeds of valour by Hercules [‘douze grandeurs en Hercule’], and twelve constellations in the Heavens.66 Taken together, they are ingeniously woven into the passage from Clemency (arch 1), through Piety (arch 2) and Fame (arch 3), finally on to Magnificence (arch 11) and Glory (arch 12). Often, land-bound monuments, despite their profusion, were deemed inadequate, and fireworks threw the struggle of Hercules over monsters, virtue over evil, into the skies. Such lively spectacles provided the climax to Prince Philip’s entries into Milan and Trente (1549), and to that of Frederick V, Elector Palatine, into London (1613), to cite but three of very many examples.67 Underlying these events lay the conviction that, although visions of the physical powers of Hercules represented and elucidated the nature of the triumphs of princes and of the chaos such victories caused, living kings were superior. Charles V and Henri IV were real and their legendary counterpart remained in the realm of fiction. Du Chesne expressed this belief when he recognized the demonstrative value of Hercules but, at the same time, claimed real ascendency for the French King who is ‘beaucoup plus religieux que cet imaginaire et fantastic Hercule’ [much more religious than this imaginary and fantastic Hercules].68 Although it seems that Hercules never dies, he did engineer his demise in the most spectacular fashion at the end of Louis XIII’s Avignon entry (1622). It is a dizzy moment of artistic exaltation which combines Roman funeral customs with the vision of a Hercules burdened with age and with honours. He is consumed in the flames of his 63 Seigneur de Tavannes, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 8, (1551), p. 157. 64 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, p. 57. 65 Jérémie Koering, Le Prince en représentation: histoire des décors du palais ducal à Mantoue au XVIe siècle (Arles: Actes Sud, 2013), pp. 92-93. 66 Machaud, Eloges, p. 15. All the images for this entry are reproduced in Mulryne, Watanabe O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans vol. II, pp. 154-81. 67 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. I, p. 64 and p. 127, and The Magnificent Marriage of Two Great Princes (London: by TC for W. Barley, 1613). 68 Du Chesne, Antiquitez, p. 334.

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own laurels of renown in order to become all spirit. As he vanishes we can move on to our next theme: Un Hercule tout chargé d’années, d’honneurs et de triomphes, sur un noble bûcher qu’il s’estoit dressé luy-mesme de ses palmes et de ses lauriers, consumoit son corps dedans les flames de la Gloire pour estre tout esprit.69 [An Hercules, all burdened with years, honours and triumphs, on a pyre he built himself from his own palms and laurels, he burned his body in the flames of Glory, in order to become all Spirit]. Jupiter’s Triumph over the Giants Humanist writers favoured a return to images of classical deities as a mode of enhancement for their own style and as a means of enriching artistic expressive capacities. The theme of Jupiter’s triumph over the Giants offered unusual scope for bringing the spectator close to the chaos of war; to its physical effects realistically presented; to the detail of the horror of death and the dying; and to the sheer scale of devastation. It also seemed uncommonly appropriate for expressions of opinion on rebellion, iconoclasm and civil disorder experienced across Europe at this time. The first reference found in a royal entry to this theme occurred in Rouen (1517) where the victor at Marignano, François Ier, was celebrated as Jupiter crushing the titans. Here, there was little further comment beyond the obvious wish to please the King.70 The myth took on grander territorial implications when Perino del Vaga (1501–1547), who had designed the arches for Emperor Charles V’s entries into Genoa in 1529 and 1533, was at this same time decorating the great Salon in the Doge’s palace with representations of Jupiter’s triumph over the giants. This Salon was the official residence for visiting princes. It can only be imagined what Perino’s work looked like, but it was reported that he gave all the giants Turkish turbans, a blatant reference to wars with the infidels.71 We have, however, detailed evidence of how the myth looked in the Palazzo del Te, near Mantua, where Giulio Romano’s (1499–1546) extraordinary frescoes survive and for which there are accounts from visitors.72 The shock of seeing his version of Jupiter’s triumph over the giants — of

69 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 268. Hercules reappeared in the 1640s when Cardinal Richelieu’s name was fused with that of the hero of legend: Armandus Richeleus/Hercules Admirandus [Armand de Richelieu / Ardue main de Hercule]; at the same time, Poussin was commissioned (March 1641) to decorate the vault of the Grande Galerie du Louvre with the birth and heroic deeds of Hercules; see Bolduc, La Fête imprimée, p. 200 where he cites Sauval’s Histoire de Paris. The Cardinal was also depicted as a modern Hercules whose new art of government could control the Hydra of rebellion in France, J-F. Senault, De l’usage des passions [1641] (Paris: Fayard, 1987), cited in Williams, Monsters, pp. 247-52. 70 See Jean Jacquot, Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, vol. II (Paris: Centre de la recherche scientifique, 1968), p. 427. 71 Deswarte-Rosa, ‘L’expédition de Tunis (1535)’, p. 123. Pamela Askew’s study of Perino’s surviving drawings has confirmed that his giants were Turks, ‘Perino del Vaga’s Decorations for the Palazzo Doria’, The Burlington Magazine, 98/635 (1956), pp. 46-51. 72 Giulio Romano also made a version of his battle of the Gods to be woven into tapestry, as can be seen from a surviving drawing in the Louvre, dated 1538; see Delmarcel, ‘Giulio Romano and Tapestry’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Venturi, La Corte di Mantova, p. 387.

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being part of the universe tumbling down — was almost impossible to convey, as Vasari observed when, in the 1568 edition of his Lives, he emphasized the drama and violence of Romano’s masterpiece.73 When Charles V visited the palace in 1530, he passed through the Stucco Hall showing the march of the Imperial armies, a scene very familiar to him, before arriving in the Hall of Giants which both surprised and thrilled him [Plate VI]. As he stood at the centre of this place seemingly in the process of collapse, he thought that the performance had been made entirely for his benefit: Emperor/Jupiter was being congratulated on his military victories in Italy. He was to encounter the experience many times on his travels across Europe. In Naples, November 1535, he was greeted on the Piazza della Sellaria by a complex machine depicting giants rising heavenwards and bent on challenging Jove. Just as the Emperor approached, the whole mechanism was destroyed by a thunderbolt in the form of an imperial eagle. No one could fail to interpret the message as the recognition of his great triumph at Tunis a few months before.74 When, at his own request, Henri III visited the Hall of the Giants at the Palazzo del Te in 1574, he was not only impressed but responded to the extraordinary artistic skill deployed there. Blaise de Vigenère (1523-96), in his record of the King’s visit, described the craft and knowledge of the painter and the disturbing effects: Et semble proprement que ces lourdes masses de chair s’efforçant de grimper contremont, doibvent accabler et admener en bas avecque eux, le comble de l’edifice sur la teste des regardans: si bien les a sceu exprimer le sçavoir de l’ouvrier.75 [And it seemed truly that these heavy masses of human flesh striving to climb against the gradient, must fall and bring with them the crest of the edifice down on top of the heads of those who look on; so well does the knowledge of the painter express their climb]. If Vigenère is, in fact, reporting the King’s own reactions, then Henri III had concentrated on the ways unsettling effects were produced rather than seeking to interpret their message.76 Prince Philip at the beginning of his own journey across Europe also stayed in the great Salon of the Doge’s palace and would have encountered there Jupiter and his giants. He was to see them again prominently displayed on the arch which Frans Floris (1517–1570) painted for the Genoese merchants in Antwerp (1549). Floris had spent some time in Italy, and had admired and engraved a series inspired from the Stucco Hall and from the Battle of the gods and titans. To fulfil his commission in Antwerp, in his depiction of the theme, Floris sought to assert the martial qualities of the Emperor in order to instil in his son a proper emulation of that prowess. Charles V’s continuing struggles against Protestant and Islamic forces were celebrated certainly, but the contest was not over and the uncertainty

73 Cited in Sharon Gregory, Vasari and the Renaissance Print (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), p. 145. 74 La triumphale Entrata di Carlo V in Napoli (Messina: [n. pub.], 1535), fifth stage; no pagination. 75 Vigenère, La somptueuse et magnifique entrée, p. 9. 76 In fact, the artistic impact of the frescoes was such that princely travellers were often accommodated in rooms lined with this theme. Ercole II d’Este had tapestries woven with this story, and Duke Alfonso II was surrounded by ‘la favola di Giganti’ in his rooms in Venice (1562); Guy Delmarcel, ‘Giulio Romano and Tapestry’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Venturi, La Corte di Mantova, pp. 383-92; La Entrata […] duca Alfonso II, Estense (Venice: Francesco Rampazetto, 1562), p. 10.

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of future outcomes was signalled by the painter’s interpretation of the myth. Cornelius Grapheus (1482–1558), in his account of the entry, made clear that, in Floris’ version, the giants seem to be succeeding in their assault on the heavens, and the gods around Jupiter show visible signs of trepidation.77 Calvete de Estrella’s account of the struggle, based on Grapheus’ text, emphasized graphically the violence and the anger. It is worth quoting his version in full since it exposes the painter’s determination to create a scene from which the impact on the onlooker would generate both amazement and fear: D’un côté les géants, aux corps nus, difformes, entassant à grands efforts monts sur monts pour escalader le ciel, et du haut de ces amoncellements menaçant d’un geste terrible Jupiter et les habitants de l’Olympe…Jupiter assis sur son aigle, le visage enflammé de colère, tandis que les autres dieux du haut des nuages tremblaient de frayeur à la vue des assaillants, lançait sur ceux-ci d’un bras redoutable ses foudres vengeresses qui les renversaient, les brûlaient, leur faisant vomir feu et flammes pendant que l’aigle du roi des dieux les déchirait de ses serres puissantes:…Parmi les géants jisant à terre on voyait le monstrueux Encelade, jetant des flammes par les yeux, les mains, les oreilles, les narines, écrasé sous le mont Etna que Jupiter lui imposait pour son éternal supplice.78 [from one side giants, naked and deformed, with great effort piled mountains upon mountains to climb up to heaven; from the summit of these piles they threatened with menacing gestures Jupiter and the gods of Olympus…Jupiter astride his eagle, his visage inflamed with anger, while other gods sitting atop their clouds trembled with fear at the sight of their assailants, with redoutable power hurled his thunderous revenge which toppled down (the giants), burned them, made them vomit flames and fires while the eagle belonging to the king of the gods tore into them with his powerful talons…Among the giants lying on the ground, Enceladus could be seen exuding fire from his eyes, from his hands and his ears, from his nose, flattened beneath Mount Etna where Jupiter assigned him for his everlasting torture]. The lingering on the detail of the suffering and on the extreme vengeance delivered by Jupiter reveals how both artist and narrator were intent on producing strong feelings in those who examined the scene closely. Only an engraving of Floris’ design survives [Fig. 5.4.]. It is possible, however, to appreciate the force of his conception in his painting on a similar theme — the Fall of the Rebel Angels, commissioned in 1554 by the Fencers’ Guild for the Church of Our Lady in Antwerp and now in the Museum of Fine Arts. Weapons replace the columns and rocks hurled about by Jupiter, yet St Michael effects the same ruinous destruction on naked bodies tumbling about and writhing in a hopeless mass of doom [Fig. 5.5.].79 77 Cornelis Grapheus, Spectaculorum in susceptione Philippi Hisp. Princ. Divi Caroli V […] 1549. Antverpiae aeditorum munificus apparatus (Antwerp: Plantin, 1549); French text in Jacquot, Les Fêtes, vol. II, p. 456: ‘Tandis que les autres dieux de grandt crainte se mussoient ou cachoient es dites nues, lesquelz comme timides regardoient par entre les nues’ [While the other gods in great fear were idle or hid themselves in the said clouds, as though timid, they peeped through between the clouds]. 78 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. IV, pp. 43-44. 79 For the subsequent fate of this painting, David Freedberg, Iconoclasm and Painting in the Revolt of the Netherlands, 1566–1609 (New York and London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1988), pp. 190-201. Martin Freminet painted a very similar Fall of the Angels for the vault of the Chapelle de la Trinité in the palace at Fontainebleau which still

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Figure 5.4. The Giants storm Olympus, engraved Frans Floris.

Philip II, as King of Spain, was to encounter the theme again, this time represented on the arch dedicated to him when — with his new wife Anna of Austria — he entered Madrid in 1570. There was Jupiter astride an eagle, seated on a cloud, watching the fate of the giants below desperately throwing their rocks and weapons in gestures of rebellion. López de Hoyos, in his record of the occasion, did not hesitate to identify Philip II as the King of the gods, by virtue of his magnificent and majestic triumphs against the rebels in Flanders and elsewhere. López justified his interpretation, in true Spanish humanist

survives, it is reproduced in Nativel, Henri IV, Fig. 9, plate XI, p. xxxix, and is discussed by Jean-Claude Boyer, ‘L’image d’un peintre et sa fabrication: Martin Freminet héros de roman, héraut de la peinture’, ibid., pp. 285-302.

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Figure 5.5. The Fall of the Rebel Angels (1554), engraved Frans Floris.

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fashion, with references to Ovid, and by citing Valeriano’s depiction of Fame, adding verses from Virgil, and reminding the reader of Petrarch’s Triumph of Fame.80 It is not surprising that in the years from 1562 — when religious contention spread uncontrollably throughout France — poets, too, chose to explore the fall of the giants. If Pierre de Ronsard (1524–1585) is taken as an example, in one of his Seasons poems (1563), L’Hynne de l’Hiver, he targeted Protestants specifically. The poet had already explored the creative possibilities of the myth in his Ode à Michel de L’Hôpital (1550) where the nine Muses in their very first performance sang the triumph of Jupiter and the gods over the giants both as a means of celebrating their authority and as a way of extolling the power of poetry where the defeat of the giants represents the end of wars and of heresy and the god’s victory stands as the triumph of culture, science and the arts.81 In the later L’Hynne de l’Hiver, Ronsard extends the significance of the myth to give advice to his King. Winter has decided to revolt against Jupiter who, in front of the assembly of the gods, had derided the season’s ugly nature. Ronsard relished the opportunity to evoke the range, speed and diversity of their hostile encounters; he conveys the noise of battle, the clang of steel, the crash of tumbling rocks and the roar of trumpets. During a victory banquet, Jupiter is persuaded to free his prisoner Winter. The god’s speech is restrained and conciliatory, offering a lesson in policy to his young King. This living Jupiter, Charles IX, has conquered the Protestants, symbolized by the revolt of the titans, and he has offered the hand of peace to Winter who stood for the Reformed Church. Thus in the poet’s vision, imperial power has the capacity to triumph and then to appease. In another work, La Lyre (1569), on the surface of the musical instrument, the poet again conjures up a banquet scene where the gods, relaxing with food and wine, are listening to the songs of Apollo who, among other stories, provides an account of the triumph of Jupiter over the giants. Ronsard offers this victory as an example of the fate of subjects who rise against their King: Exemple vray que ceux qui veulent prendre Guerre à leur Roy. [True example to those who wish to wage war against their king] This was a general warning from the poet who thus explained truths at the heart of fable.82 Ronsard participated in court festivals and, with Jean Dorat (1508–1588), devised the entries into Paris of Charles IX and his new Queen (1571). After the Queen’s entry, there was a royal banquet in the Archbishop’s palace which had been decorated in a magnificent fashion using tales from Jupiter’s titanic struggle. Fourteen of the twenty-four paintings told the story of the contest from the initial attack of the giants on heaven to the rejoicing of the gods over Jupiter’s victory. The painted struggle began with the giant Typhon (blessed with only one human head but also many animal heads, one human hand and several other hands) daring to steal Jupiter’s weapons. Typhon’s clumsy physique meant that he could

80 López de Hoyos, Real Apparato et Sumptuoso Recibimiento, f. 244, discussed by Teresa Chaves Montoya, ‘La entrada de Ana de Austria en Madrid (1570) según la relación de López de Hoyos. Fuentes iconográficas’, Boletín del Museo e Instituto ‘Camón Aznar’, 36 (1989), 91-105; for the arch dedicated to Philip II, 99-101. 81 From Le Premier Livre des Odes, Oeuvres, vol. I, ix, pp. 626-50; the Fall of the Giants is presented in strophes 6-10, ll. 171-318. 82 See my article, ‘Ronsard and the Visual Arts: A Study of Poetic Creativity’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 78 (2015), 173-205.

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not handle or control the thunderbolts or other divine weapons very efficiently. Through his muddled incompetence, and through trickery and magic, the weapons are restored to the king of the gods who takes his revenge on Typhon and his fellow giants, despite the latter’s effort of piling mountains upon mountains up to the stars. The rocks they hurl simply rain back down upon them. This rebellious tribe stands for French Protestants and must be considered in the context of the peace of Saint-Germain (1570). This peace, achieved with great difficulty, had secured a temporary lull in the fighting. The planners of the banquet (chiefly Jean Dorat) borrowed their inspiration from newly discovered Greek sources — the Dionysiaca of Nonnos, translated into Latin and published in Paris in 1568. From this text, the planners promoted the image of the King as Lord of the Universe capable of holding war at bay once and for all. The seriousness of their intentions can be judged from the detail and extent of the attention given to the myth. It occupied more than half the decorative space in the hall.83 The widespread use of the argument that the warring giants represented the destructive power of the Reformers can also be seen from the writings of Giordano Bruno (1548–1600) who, in his Spaccio de la bestia trionfante (1584), expatiated further on the idea before awarding Henri III a celestial crown as a reward for overcoming the Protestants.84 This myth was not always employed to promote achievement. There were times when it represented a warning to the prince of hazards ahead. When Philip III rode into Lisbon (1619), he was sharply reminded of the precarious nature of his rule. On the Custom House, dominating the waterfront, titans were threatening the Spanish Jupiter. The monarch’s eventual dominance over emerging dangers is implied, but the warnings are explicitly depicted as the giants seem to take control.85 The theme continued to inspire thoughts about triumph and suffering in princely entries. At Avignon (1622), the equestrian statue of the King in triumph recalls Jupiter; while below the giants still foam at the mouth in rage at their downfall. And, on the arch — an altar dedicated to Force and Piety combined — could be seen an eagle bringing thunder to Jupiter that he might crush the pride of the giants/heretics. Louis XIII has received his force, the means to victory, from a higher authority; and linked to piety, this power increased the need to praise his achievements.86 The author of the entry stresses the appropriateness of applying this myth to the King: La gloire d’un Capitaine victorieux s’en tient bien plus haut, quand il a abattu sous ses pieds quelque puissant guerrier, et lorsque ce qui estoit le plus voide et le mieux tendu paroist lasche à comparaison de ses forces. Le plus beau throsne de Jupiter fut celuy, soubs lequel les geants se voyaient foudroyez, et escumaient encor leur rage en supplice. [A commander’s victory is regarded as the most remarkable when he has crushed some great warrior beneath his feet, especially when the opponent seems equal in courage and strength. The most glorious throne of Jupiter was that beneath which the Giants crouched, beaten and still foaming with rage at their plight].

83 Entrée de Charles IX, Paris, ed. Frances A. Yates, facsimile with introduction (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974), Appendix, The Nonnos programme, pp. 34-40. 84 For the connections between Ronsard and Bruno, see Nuccio Ordine, Giordano Bruno, Ronsard et la religion (Paris: Albin Michel, 2004), and his article, ‘Manet Ultima coelo’, p. 158. 85 Kubler, ‘Archiducal Flanders’, p. 177. 86 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, pp. 145-46.

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Before turning to the most complex exploration of this theme, it should be pointed out that not all versions of the myth were deadly serious. For the ceremonial entry of Ferdinand I into Prague in November 1558, Rudolf II devised a huge spectacle — a costume play in which Jupiter fought giants and devils, and tackled monstrous beasts. There were no political overtones, no warning of disasters ahead, it was simply an occasion to enjoy a display of brute strength.87 Such sheer pleasure was certainly not the intention when the myth was used to comment on the victorious outcome of the struggle against Protestants, on the suffering experienced during the long, drawn-out siege of La Rochelle. At the end of the conflict, for Louis XIII’s entry into Paris (1628), on the eighth arch, dedicated to Majesty, the theme was used as a foil in a complex argument mounted to express the superior martial ingenuity of the King, and to demonstrate his resourcefulness over Jupiter. The author of the account (Machaud), commenting on the painting which displayed the noisy and brutal demolition of the giants by Jupiter and the gods, reminded the reader that although Jupiter did, in fact, defend his empire from assault, the King of the gods had to deploy vast resources — all his thunder and lightning — to overcome a mere handful of rebels: Quand le ciel se vit investy par la temerité de ces monstres, il falloit lascher tous les foudres, et mettre le monde en feu pour renger une poignée de mutins.88 [When the heavens saw they were invaded by the temerity of these monsters, it was needful to release all the thunder and set the world alight with fire — all to bring a mere handful of rebels to heel]. By contrast, when faced by calamitous and stubborn presumption, Louis XIII simply used the mechanism of a dyke to reduce 20,000 souls to reason. The artist had depicted the fear on the faces of the assailants, they anticipate their downfall and yet (the commentator argued) in order to extol the superior quality of the King, the noise, clamour and fires of Jupiter were hardly required. Thus, in this instance, the myth is used less as a record of significant victory (though it is), but rather as a mode of measurement of the military skills of the living commander-in-chief. The flexibility in the application of this theme became apparent from a later moment in this same entry, which will provide an ending to our analysis of this theme since it demonstrates, once more, how inspiration derived from myth makes that story new again in its application to contemporary political affairs. When Louis XIII approached the seat of Justice at the Châtelet, the façade was once more populated with the race of giants. Machaud describes in detail how this monstrous, daring race was born, and how it set about preparing its assault using all available resources of land and sea, and how the giants deployed rocks and mountains to dislodge Jupiter from heaven — but all to no avail: Employerent des montagnes et des rochers, qu’ils amoncelerent les uns sur les autres et donnerent une alarme furieuse au repos des Dieux qui toutefois, avec un orage de foudre que Jupiter et les autres lancerent sur eux, les escraserent dans les ruines de leur revolte.89

87 Fucikova, Catalogue, Rudolf II, p. 8. 88 Machaud, Eloges, p. 19. 89 Ibid., pp. 108-09.

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[they employed mountains and rocks, which they piled up one on top of the other and gave furious alarm to the repose of the Gods and these hurled [their rocks] upon them crushing them in the ruins of their rebellion]. So runs ‘la fiction du poete’ [the fable of the poet] wrote Machaud. But it is a fiction of some import. It is used to evoke the long-drawn out preparations of the Protestants, who had amassed forces from every available corner of the land in order to attack his Majesty, the King. The myth allows Machaud to stress the size of the rebellion, and obliges the spectator to contemplate the enormity both of the intention and of the forces mustered against the monarch. What the painting demonstrates, Marchaud concluded, is that having risen up like ‘nouveaux Titans’ they have received their just deserts. Jason and the Golden Fleece The story of Jason is very old. First told by Apollonius of Rhodes (c. 270–245 bc) in his Argonautica and expanded by Valerius Flaccus in his unfinished epic (composed ad 70–79), the legend was appropriated by Philip, Duke of Burgundy (1396–1467) when he founded the Order of the Golden Fleece in 1430/1. Histories of the Order and its legend (such as the work of Guillaume Fillastre) were used as exemplifying qualities of courage and determination for those who undertook the work of God. These had been the virtues which Duke Philip had wished to encourage, seeking to honour old knights for their service, to persuade his nobles to engage in deeds of valour, and to instil loyalty among his followers. The Order flourished and its moral aspirations were present in the wedding ceremonies of Philip the Good and Isabella of Portugal (1530); in the entry of the Empress into Tournai (1532); and figured on the parade armour of Emperors Charles V and Maximilian II. It quickly became a standard point of reference in all Burgundian ceremonies, and was used in specific applications to contemporary political concerns. At the Feast of the Pheasant in Lille (1454), three episodes were mimed before the guests: the struggles against bulls; the victorious combat against the dragon at Colchis; and the scattering of serpents’ teeth in fertile soil from which sprang armed men who massacred each other. The account of this pantomime by Olivier de la Marche (1425–1502) stressed its realism, the ferocity of the contests and explained the moral implications.90 The prize, the Golden Fleece, represented Honour unvanquished while the ferocious combats signified the fight against vice and evil embodied by the Turks who had so recently (May, 1453) triumphed at Constantinople. In these mini dramas, Jason and his followers looked like Burgundian knights. In these deeds, they were protecting the Church from further harm, displaying at one and the same time their support for the Catholic Faith and affirming the political prestige of the Burgundian court.

90 For the founding of the Order of the Golden Fleece, see Jonathan Dacre D’Arcy Boulton, The Knights of the Crown. The Monarchical Orders of Knighthood in Later Medieval Europe, 1325–1520 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1987), pp. 356-97; for the festivities at Lille, Olivier de la Marche, Mémoires, vol. II, pp. 118-36.

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Figure 5.6. Jason and the Golden Fleece (1563), engraved René Boyvin after Léonard Thiry.

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The Golden Fleece became a symbol of achievement and a sign of authority for which knights strove, honing their skills of courage, patience and vigilance and, above all, acquiring prudence in their military affairs. Thus the figure of Jason became associated with noble performance and was, as a result, frequently inscribed as an image of triumph and virtue on princes’ armour,91 and it was thought entirely appropriate to Emperor Charles V when he was received into London (1522), and again into Florence (1536) and faced with statues of Victory and Jason ‘tutte d’oro e d’argento’, standing there to congratulate him at the final stopping place — the loggia de Tornquina.92 The Burgundian affection for the myth of Jason and the Golden Fleece naturally expressed itself in the ceremonies honouring Prince Philip as he made his public oaths to rule justly now that his father had transferred sovereignty of the Netherlands to him (1549). The legend was enacted with special attention at Tournai, at Mons, at Antwerp and Rotterdam.93 As symbol of authority, Alfonso I Gonzaga commissioned, in 1554, a tapestry depicting Jason, Medea and the ship Argo from a Flemish weaver at the court of Cosimo de’ Medici.94 By then, the theme had become a kind of passe-partout used to honour any prince of status. Soon after his arrival at Fontainebleau in 1536, Léonard Thiry (1490–1550) conceived a series of drawings on Jason and the Golden Fleece, a work which was to be engraved after his death by René Boyvin (1525-c. 1620), and published in Paris (1563) [Fig. 5.6.].95 In Florence (1566), Francesco de’ Medici made his entry with Joanna of Austria. Along the route through the city, they encountered a huge painting showing Jason in the act of securing the Golden Fleece. The text explains that it was created to honour the House of Medici and, specifically, to extol duke Cosimo.96 As a symbol of proven virtue and authority, it is not surprising that it was adopted by many writers and artists to encourage their princes to look to the future, and to emulate the hero from legend. Pierre de Ronsard, for instance, in his dedication to Charles IX of his Livre des Meslanges (1560), singled out Jason’s vertu as a goal to follow, citing the name of Apollonius of Rhodes as the first author to have discovered the utility of ships, and to have shown how Jason was able to circumvent the most dangerous obstacles and return triumphant with the noble fleece.97 The poet saw the King embarking on a similarly difficult and dangerous voyage and, by implication, urges him to treasure the virtues which had made such a result possible. The accent is on the alarms and hazards as much as on the qualities required to overcome them. In many ways, the adventures of Jason and the Argonauts belonged to the chivalric traditions that still haunted the imagination of writers at this time, and they took on this 91 See sous l’égide de Mars, cat. no. 55 which shows Jason, having killed the dragon who lies sprawling at his feet, brandishing the fleece in triumph in his left hand. 92 For London, see Anglo, Spectacle, Pageantry, pp. 166, 186-202; for Florence, Ordine, Pompe, apparati, ‘per via Maggio’, sig. Dijv. 93 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, Tournai (vol. III, pp. 13 and 44); Mons (vol. III, p. 164); Antwerp (vol. IV, p. 49); and Rotterdam (vol. IV, pp. 12-13). 94 See Francesca Cannella, ‘The Heroes of the Fabulous History and the Inventions Ennobled by Them: the Myth of the Argonauts between Visual Sources and Literary Inventio’, Music in Art, 40 (1-2) (2015), 191-202 (p. 191). 95 Livre de la conqueste de la Toison d’Or/Hystoria Jasonis Thessaliae Principis de Colchia (Paris: Jean de Mauregard, 1563). 96 Descrizione della entrata della ser. Regina Giovanni d’Austria […] et dell’Illust […] Francesco de’ Medici (Florence: I Giunti, 1566), pp. 52-53. 97 Pierre de Ronsard, Oeuvres, vol. II, p. 1173.

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colouring for Frederick V, Elector Palatine’s entry into Heidelberg (1613) with his wife, Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I.98 In the long account of the couple’s journey from England to the Palatinate, penned by the Protestant writer David Jocquet who labelled the poetic part of his text ‘Le triomphe de Jason’, this ‘new Jason/Frederick’ had already triumphed since he had conquered and brought home the Golden Fleece/Elizabeth: ‘Toison d’or que tout seul j’ay conquis’ [the Golden Fleece which I, alone, conquered].99 This, however, was not the end of Jocquet’s story. Throughout the ceremonies at Heidelberg, Frederick performed as Jason: in the tournament held on 9 June, and in the running at the ring on 10 June. In both events he triumphed, demonstrating how effective he was as a knight and how suitable to perform those duties required for the triumph of the Protestant Union. The procession to the lists on the second day was especially elaborate. In addition to Jason and the Argonauts eager for adventure, came Pallas whose chariot carried pictures of the victorious deeds of the original Jason. It was she who had constructed the first ship Argo [Plate VII], and it was she who declares her strong support for the new Jason/Frederick. Other deities, each in an elaborate chariot, joined the procession to offer their skills and knowledge. Mercury summons Chiron to teach valour and virtue; Juno and Neptune to ensure safe voyage; and Orpheus who had rendered the Sirens’ song useless and secured Jason’s return, free from harm. What was remarkable is the scale of the procession; the extended deployment of the story; and its particular application to the coming strife in the German States. By contrast, the call to Glory and Honour which featured at the outset of Louis XIII’s entry into Avignon (1622), with the appeal to modern knights to become ‘ces braves argonautes’ and to do their duty to follow ‘le chemin du vray honneur’, seems abrupt, as though the reference can be taken for granted and understood without further elaboration.100 Felicitas [Happiness] was a feature associated with the Golden Fleece which, once it became a prince’s property, not only signalled victory but hinted at the joys which follow martial triumph. After the recapture of Calais in 1558 by the Duc de Guise and King Henri II, the poet Etienne Jodelle (1532–1573) was commissioned by the citizens of Paris to create an entertainment worthy of the occasion.101 He devised a mascarade des Argonautes where both Guise and Henri II were designated as Jason: the former ‘new’ and the latter ‘old’ and experienced. In the spectacle, the Argonauts are the chief players together with Pallas/Minerva who explained how she has given the ship Argo special powers — that of speech, of hearing and of prophecy. It is not surprising to discover that the ship, representing simultaneously the Argo of legend, the ship of State (in the good emblematic tradition), and the device of the capital (Paris), was charged with these gifts. It recalled, in dramatic detail, the suffering ship of the city of Paris, distraught from years of deprivation and struggle. It reminded the 98 David Jocquet, Les triomphes, entrées, cartels, tournois, ceremonies et aultres magnificences, faictes en Angleterre et au Palatinat pour le mariage et reception de Monseigneur le prince Frideric V […] et de Madame Elizabeth (Heidelberg: Gotthardt Vögelin, 1613); see my article, ‘“Les triomphes de Jason”: A Myth Renewed in 1613’, in Smart and Wade, The Palatine Wedding, pp. 463-78. 99 Jocquet, ibid., p. 87. 100 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 15. Jason and the Argonauts appeared again in Paris (1628) on the seventh arch. 101 Etienne Jodelle, Recueil des Inscriptions (Paris: André Wechel, 1558); see my article, ‘Apology, Justification and Monuments to Posterity’, in Benoît Bolduc (ed.), Texte et Représentation: les arts du spectacle (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles) (Toronto: Editions Trintexte, 2004), pp. 83-103.

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audience of the perils experienced by the Argonauts, and prophesied that the King/Jason will bring to his lands further triumphs. The adventure then, is still not over: indeed, it is for ever renewed. On the Arno in 1608, Cosimo II marked the climax of his marriage ceremonies with Maria Magdalena, Archduchess of Austria, with a nautical and chivalric adventure where, as Jason in his ship Arno, and with Pallas towering over the prow, he demolished bulls and dragon, and then successfully stormed a fortress. Felicitas is assured after all danger is past.102 It was also displayed on the Pyramid erected in the rue de Grenette for the entry of Louis XIII into Lyon (1622). There it sat on a globe at the summit of the structure. Below, a massive picture represented mountains and grassy plains where sheep with coats of golden fleece grazed quietly among signs of abundance and prosperity. Felicity was displayed in this tranquil, pastoral scene, created by the victories which Louis XIII, ‘nostre Jason’, had achieved. The fatigues of war and the blood of battle were not forgotten — they lurked behind at the rear of the painting in the obscure shadows representing vice. The meaning of the scene was elaborated and reinforced by an emblem — ‘la brebis d’or’ [the golden lamb]: Cet embleme represente la felicité, que nostre Jason François a conquis par les fatigues d’une fascheuse guerre procurant quant à quant que les troupeaux de la France, revestus de la toison dorée de toute prosperité, vivent dans les pasquis fortunez de l’abondance, sans appréhension du dragon sanguinnaire de la rebellion.103 [this emblem represents Felicity, which our French Jason has conquered through the fatigues of a dreadful war procuring thereby that the flocks of France dressed in the golden fleece of prosperity, live in these pastures blessed with abundance without fear of the bloody dragon of rebellion]. The particular association of this legend with Paris and with France, central to Jodelle’s entertainment in 1558, had already been explored in the King Henri II’s entry into Paris (1549) where on the bridge at Notre Dame, a ten foot high figure of Typhis stood, in charge of the Argo depicted there with eight Argonauts sculpted into the niches of the arch. In this instance, the King is Typhis, governor of the ship of Paris - ‘non inférieure à l’ancienne Argo’ [in no way inferior to the legendary Argo]. Castor and Pollux were in attendance, signifying knowledge of navigation, and the ability of the King as pilot of the vessel. They, and the King, know about the direction of the winds and the movement of the stars, and their adventure in search of the Golden Fleece is, in truth, a quest for wisdom.104 A similar message was conveyed in 1628 when Louis XIII entered Paris. He was ‘our French pilot’ on the arch dedicated to Prudence where could be seen a great painting of the most famous ship that ever was — the Argo. This ship is France and the fleece that the French pilot has secured is ‘l’amour des peuples et l’union de ses sujets’ [the love of the people and union of his subjects].105 102 See McGowan, ‘Les triomphes de Jason’, pp. 471-72. 103 Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, pp. 64-65. 104 Entry of Henri II, pp. 64-65, and f. 13v; and Luisa Capodieci, ‘Sic itur ad astra: Narration, figures célestes et platonisme dans les entrées de Henri II (Reims 1547, Lyon 1548, Paris 1549, Rouen 1550)’, in Russell and Visentin, French Ceremonial Entries in the Sixteenth Century, pp. 73-111. In the same year, as Prince Philip swept through Rotterdam at the end of September 1549, he was entertained by a live performance of Jason and his companions; he witnessed their struggle, their triumph and their wisdom; see Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. V, pp. 12-13. 105 Machaud, Eloges, pp. 92-95.

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The sense of adventure which was inherent in Jason’s story, and the idea of charting the unknown brought the legend very close to actual journeys to new lands across the seas — to the Orient and to the Americas. Artists were anxious to develop the story as a mode of encouragement to princes to support discovery, whether it be the daring journey of the future Henri III to visit his new lands of Poland in 1573, or the citizens of Antwerp concerned about loss of trade and revenue in 1635. In his entry into Paris (1573), Henri was both Jason and Typhis, and he doubtless appreciated the Latin and French verses sung by his Argonauts, dressed as ancient Greeks, who manned the great ship, Argo. The ship (five metres high and eight metres wide) had exactly the same form as ships that sailed the seas. It was painted all over with authentic marine motifs and with images of all the towns the king had captured as Duc d’Anjou in his successful campaigns against the Protestants. The kingdom of Poland is portrayed as a gift from heaven rather than an object to conquer; it already belongs to France, an example of expansionist hopes realized even before Henri’s adventure starts. So the Argonauts can sing with confidence: ‘Héros sommes demy-dieux […] Nous avons ung second Typhis […] chef de nostre navire’ [Heroes we are, demi-gods […] we have a second Typhis […] chief of our ship]. Their adventure is an assured success.106 Not so in Antwerp where merchants suffered daily and where, for the entry of the Cardinal Infante in 1635, they charged Rubens to design arches which would display their plight with scenes of the calamitous miseries of war, and thereby persuade Ferdinand to bring peace and prosperity to a city anxious to develop trade links with other parts of the world. The story of Jason and the Argonauts was marvellously apt in presenting this strong desire for expansion. The front face of the arch at the Mint depicted the flourishing expansion of the Spanish empire through representations of Jason and the Golden Fleece alongside the figure of Felicitas. As conquerors of America, these ‘new Jasons and Argonauts’ would extend territories, discover gold and spices, and inject into the Antwerp economy peaceful pursuits and, above all, money.107 Sadly, their plea remained unheard and the city went into decline. Although artists seized on the story as one which could meet princely demands for chivalric adventure, prosperous outcomes, and promotion of the city state, at the centre of the myth were those doubtful attributes which clung to the figure of Jason. He had behaved badly with women; he had indulged in magic; he had a bad reputation. Planners of entries and of other ceremonies were aware of these traits, and sometimes they replaced the doubtful hero with Typhis (as in Paris in 1549 and 1573). Even the officials of the Order of the Golden Fleece were concerned. Was it right to use a pagan hero for an order created to defend the True Faith? For a time, Gideon replaced Jason but, by 1454, the latter had been sufficiently Christianised to prevail and, in any event, artists emphasized those episodes in his career which showed him in the best light.108

106 Feu de Joye et Entrée à Paris du Roy de Pologne, Registres et délibérations de la ville de Paris, vol. VII, pp. 91-124 (p. 117). A manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale de France (MS fr. 5102, 44 pages) describes all the preparations made by the city for this entry. See my article, ‘Une affaire de famille; les fêtes parisiennes en l’honneur d’Henri, duc d’Anjou, roi de Pologne’, in Arts du Spectacle, pp. 9-21. 107 Gevaerts, Pompa Introitus, p. 189. The Arch of the Mint, pp. 189-90. 108 La Toison d’Or, Catalogue of Bruges exhibition, 1962 (Bruges: Lannoo-Tielt, 1962), preface by Charles, Vicomte de Terlinden, p. 26.

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Figure 5.7. Gideon and the Angel, engraved Marten van Heemskerck.

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Gideon, Man of God In the earliest entries, figures from the Bible were regularly used in princely entries to set forth ideas about sound governance, itemizing and (in some cases) exploring in detail the qualities needed for good rule. Thus, the power, wisdom and good counsel of Solomon (at Rouen 1485 and Vienne 1490) are represented, to be explained, understood and imitated; and King David was displayed as a model for setting war and violence in the past, bringing with him union and peace in the present (Rouen 1485); harmony in marriage (Brussels 1496); and Divine Love in an entry which began with an apparition of the Holy Spirit (St Denis, Paris 1517). A much rarer appearance, but one of considerable significance for the princely entry in the context of war, was that of Gideon, man of God and mighty man of valour. The Book of Judges (chapters 6-8) related how Gideon was chosen by God to free the people of Israel and condemn their idolatry, and who with a tiny army succeeded in winning a decisive battle over the massed forces of the Midianites. His role in ceremony became a symbol of the military success of a small elite force against overwhelming odds; and, because God was on his side, he triumphed swiftly and virtually without loss. The history of Gideon had a special appeal for the Burgundians who used tapestries representing his triumph to mark important ceremonies. Philip the Good had commissioned a set in 1449 which was completed in 1453, the very year that Constantinople fell to the infidels. Its theme resonated with the aims of the Order of the Golden Fleece, and its presence constantly reminded the court of its obligations to liberate the Holy Land from the Turks. This set was used in Brussels (1498) for the baptism of Eleonor; and again in 1505 for the baptism of Mary.109 Scenes from Gideon’s life were carved into the elaborate cabinet given in the 1530s by Ferrante Gonzaga (1507–1557) to Emperor Charles V when he visited Mantua. It was designed in part to pay homage to the Emperor’s unrelenting struggle as a soldier of God, and in part as a reminder of the Duke’s own participation in Charles’ armies that fought for the True Faith.110 That ceaseless toil on behalf of the Catholic Church was represented again by the tapestries hung in the Great Hall at Brussels when Emperor Charles V formally announced his abdication in 1555; the walls reminded all present of his legacy and of the sacred nature of the Austro/Spanish Holy Roman Empire. The scale of the spectacle of Gideon stretched out over the walls of royal palaces could hardly be matched on the paintings which covered the monuments for princely entries. Tableaux vivants, however, did have a similar effect. In 1516, when Archduke Charles entered Douai, one thousand and two hundred actors were called upon to perform stories on the eleven stages erected for the occasion. In the main square, ninety-eight persons performed the story of Gideon releasing the Israelites from their servitude. According to the text, this was intended as a specific parallel with Philip of Austria [Charles V’s father] who had defeated the French ‘auprès Boulogne en Liège’ [near Boulogne in the Liegeois].111

109 Buchanan, Habsburg Tapestries, pp. 67-69. 110 A. Jordano, ‘The Plus Ultra Writing Cabinet of Charles V: Expression of a Sacred Imperialism of the Austrias’, Journal of Conservation and Museum Studies, 9 (2011), 14-26. 111 La très excellente et très joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur notre Sire, lors Roy, au Mois de May 1516, ed. H.-R. Duthilloeul, Archives Historiques, pp. 256-59.

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As Emperor, Charles V again encountered Gideon at his entry into Tournai (1548); and in the following year, his son Philip witnessed at Amersfoort three scenes from Gideon’s story, accompanied by Latin verses which explained their relevance to the Prince’s future conduct.112 But it was in the second half of the century that the story of Gideon takes on particular meaning as it echoes preoccupations and political events emerging from Spanish attempts to keep control over the Low Countries and to impose Catholic beliefs upon its staunchly Protestant inhabitants. In 1577, when William of Orange (1533–1584), leader of the Dutch revolt, entered Ghent on 29 December,113 Lucas de Heere (1534–1584) who had himself just returned from exile, based his designs for five theatres on advice from the Ghent Chamber of Rhetoric whose members shared his hatred of Spanish soldiers. These were exhibited at St James Church in the form of Violence, Assassination, Robbery, Betrayal and Inquisition. The Christian Emperor Constantine carried the main message at the entrance to the Prissenhof. His prowess is fully displayed there as he is seen defeating the tyrant Maxentius with the help of God. The text makes clear that he has been called to deliver the Romans from the yoke of servitude in which the tyrant has held them for so long [‘estant apellé par les Romains, pour les delivrer de la tyrannie et servitude en laquelle ledit tyran les avoit long tempz tenuz’].114 That same message was to be repeated in later triumphal entries with the biblical hero Gideon replacing the Emperor Constantine. In this displacement, de Heere was strongly influenced by a series of six prints on the Story of Gideon, designed about 1561 by Marten van Heemskerck (1498–1574) and printed by Hieronymus Cock (1518–1570) [Fig. 5.7.]. These carried Latin inscriptions at the base of each print spelling out their message; and all emphasized how God had called upon Gideon to liberate the Israelites. The theme was used as a mode of persuasion in the Duc d’Anjou’s entry into Ghent (1582) where the angel of God appeared to Gideon and ordered him to action.115 Here was a new Gideon — the Duke — initially depicted as an hesitant French knight and deliverer, now the newly-designated chief of the Brabant, bringer of peace to a war-torn country. Peace and freedom were uppermost in the decisions of the planners, made all the more urgent by their sense of the necessity of speed to get rid of the treacherous Spaniards. Gideon had freed Israel against all the odds and his triumph had been miraculously swift; and the cure for present violence was immediate attack. At the first stage of the entry, the Duc d’Anjou was confronted by a nymph representing the city of Ghent. Professing her adhesion to the Reformed Church, her verse inscription drew attention to the clouds of misery and confusion that surrounded her; songs reinforced her pleasure at the sight of her deliverer. De Heere had persuaded the Chamber of Rhetoric to modify its ideas on the themes to be decorated on the arches to bring them in touch with current political 112 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. V, pp. 70-71. 113 W. Waterschoot, ‘Introduction: Ghent in 1577’, in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. I, pp. 472-91. 114 Cited in Dagmar Eichberger, ‘Gideon, an Old Testament Hero in Action: Burgundian Symbolism and the Visual Language of Protestant Flanders’, in Walter Mellon, James Clifton and Michael Weemans (eds), Imago Exegetica (Leiden: Brill, 2013), p. 692. 115 Entrée magnifique de Mgr. François, fils de France […] comte de Flandres […] faicte en la Metropolitaine et fameuse ville de Gand le 20 aoust, 1582 (Ghent: Cornille de Rekenure, 1582). The prints by Heemskerck are reproduced in Eichberger.

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Figure 5.8. The duc d’Anjou as Gideon (1582), engraved Adam de Bruyn.

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and religious concerns. Instead of Joshua (the original choice), Gideon, ‘eslu de Dieu, pour regner sur Israël, chasse les ennemis et remis les Israëlites en liberté’ [chosen by God to reign over Israël, chasses away the enemy and brings back freedom to the Israëlites].116 Flanders (whose four members had chosen the Duke to bring back their traditional liberties which had figured prominently on the theatre at the Town Hall) was Israel, the Duc d’Anjou was the new Gideon sent to release them. ‘Fay comme Gideon’ [Do as Gideon] was inscribed in clear letters at the top of the structure. Inside, the angel and Gideon begin a dialogue, spelling out the Duke’s immediate task — ‘do battle and win’ [Fig. 5.8.]. Both scenes had been captured in plates I and V of Heemskerck’s series.117 The dialogue between the angel and Gideon anticipates a glorious outcome: Comme jadis ce vaillant Gedeon Victoire acquis contre toute esperance, Ainsi croions, qu’ostra hors de souffrance Nous, nos citez, et nostre Religion.118 [As that valiant Gedeon, long ago, was victorious against all hope, so we believe you will remove from suffering, ourselves, our cities and our Religion]. The people, the cities of Flanders, the Reformed Church, all believed that the Duc d’Anjou might succeed as Gideon did, through speed, with the support of God, and that peace might prevail — the Spanish being for ever banished. The town of Ghent with its history of opposition and defiance, its defence of local traditions and adherence to religious habits, has demonstrated — in this entry — a very specific application to the present of a theme from the past. This chapter has sought to show how the violence of war has dictated the choice of topics for use in ceremony, and in particular, for princely entries in which the discussion of solutions to war was projected onto canvases where images speak and commentaries develop hopes and spell out aspirations for both triumph and peace. Fables were made to be both beautiful and grim, renewable and instructive. They allowed planners to use images to set forth often complex arguments about political choices, to enter into the detail of strategy, and encouraged spectators to experience the consequences of those decisions. The four representations studied here, from mythological and biblical sources, were tailored according to shifts in a country’s fortunes, and were a boon to city councillors who employed artists and writers who, for their part, were anxious to display their skills in the task of impressing and counselling princes.

116 Ibid., pp. 7-8. 117 See Figs 8 and 12 in Eichberger, ‘Gideon, an Old Testament hero in action’, which constitute plates I and V of Heemskerck’s Gideon Series. 118 L’Entrée magnifique, p. 13.

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Chapter VI

Symbolic Images of Achievement and Inscriptions of Hope

Most Renaissance princely entries took place against a background of almost ceaseless strife and anxiety. The planners of these events were therefore driven to find ways to disguise, or at least mitigate, the harsh realities with an expression of hope for the future; and the most effective way to achieve this was by the lavish display of symbols which though obscure, ambiguous and often arbitrary nevertheless enjoyed tremendous prestige among both learned and unlearned audiences alike. Indeed, veiled truths had an extraordinary hold over sixteenth-century minds. It was a time when belief in the power of symbols was widespread as was the assumption that they pointed to truths beyond their surface expression embodying secrets that could, when understood, influence opinion and emotion. Writers and designers of princely entries, through their special gifts, revealed the meanings of those symbols they had chosen to represent on arches and on other monuments. These symbols, in order to have the impact intended, often required extensive explanation, and texts describing the events and assessing them for a wider public were essential. These were tools of comprehension, records of performance and engines of commemoration when the ephemeral buildings, painted canvases and symbolic portrayals which had given them being, had been destroyed. The study of the meanings implicit in the symbols revealed the dreadful realities which they contained, for although the violence of action was hidden, it was not diminished but displaced. Contemporaries appreciated the need for textual elucidation as Jean Dorat (1508–1588) made clear in his Latin commentary published at the beginning of the account of Charles IX’s entry into Paris (1571): Sed pictura, nisi sonus huic accedat, imago Muta tacet; scriptis nunc ea facta loquax1 [But a picture alone, if no voice be added, is but a dumb and silent image; and therefore now, by the aid of writing, the picture is made to talk]. Dorat elaborated further, emphasizing how closely text was aligned to image so that ‘the speaking voice of literature communicates each secret’. For him, image and text were mutually reinforcing. The symbolic dimension implied a different way of reading and of interpreting the occasion where meaning gradually infiltrates the mind and, only then,



1 ll. 7-8, cited in Yates, Entrée de Charles IX, Paris 1571, sig. Aij, and translated from the edition of Victor E. Graham and W. McAllister Johnson, The Paris Entries of Charles IX and Elizabeth of Austria, p. 98, ll. 7-8.

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after some effort.2 In contrast to the vast canvases filled with the excitement of battle, where painting itself became a performance, stirred the imagination and stimulated the emotions of the spectator very directly, the symbolism sculpted or painted onto the monuments had a different purpose and another effect. A symbol presented a puzzle, demanded minute attention and explanation. It appealed to the mind and knowledge of the viewers who had had little opportunity to delve into meaning as they stood in front of an arch, but who had plenty of scope to ponder its implications from the pages of a book. There, they could study and recognize the attributes of allegories, relish the ingenuity of strange connections in emblems and devices, ponder the age and obscurity of hieroglyphs, and begin to understand the messages contained there.3 Symbols had other virtues beyond the power to puzzle. Through their manipulative skill, writers could rework images, give them a new twist, and — in their disguising — imply only half the truth or suppress it entirely as Hans Vredeman de Vries did in Antwerp (1582).4 Or they could introduce deliberate obscurantism to impress the learned, as the monk Vincenzo Borghini (1515–1580) did in Florence (1566) where, running counter to the obligation to express clearly achievement and its dire consequences, he sought to create the effects of Virtue, Intelligence and Ideas by citing Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio and Alamanni, or when he tried to explain the symbolism in the Temple of Minerva.5 The Persuasive Power of Symbols Alfonso Caurivole, in his address at the beginning of his account of Cardinal Morosoni’s entry into Brescia (1591), makes clear his intention to detail everything that had been painted on the triumphal arches and to explain their hidden messages: ‘e scoperti quei simboli, e quei misteriosi sensi, che sotto quelle varie forme di corpi s’intendeano’.6 But, he went further than this. The evocation of the first arch inside the city is prefaced by a veritable treatise on the reasons why symbols are so liberally used. It is announced in this way: Dell uso de simboli perche si usino i segni simbolici, et si facciano gli archi ne’ triomphi.7 In what amounts to a manifesto, he defends the use of symbols as pointing back to the secrets of God and to those hidden forces found in the Natural World, and he underlines their persuasive power and their ability to move. He goes on to trace their origins, through Egyptians via

2 On the close reading required for texts recording royal entries and on the different types of readers assumed by narrators, see Bolduc, La Fête imprimée, pp. 41-98. For a general analysis of the different modes of symbolic expression, see A. E. Spica, Symbolique humaniste et emblématique. L’évolution et les genres 1580–1700 (Paris: Champion, 1996). 3 See my article, ‘Apology, Justification and Monuments to Posterity’, in Bolduc, Texte et Représentation, pp. 83-104. 4 A. L. Van Bruaene, ‘Spectacle and Spin for a Spurned Prince: Civic Strategies in the Entry Ceremonies of the Duke of Anjou in Antwerp, Bruges and Ghent, 1582’, Journal of Early Modern History, 11 (4-5) (2007), 263-84. 5 Domenico Mellini, Descrizione della entrata della ser. Regina Giovanni d’Austria […] et del’Illust […] Francesco de’ Medici (Florence: I Giunti, 1566), pp. 14 and 25. Borghini was scrupulous in the sources he used to display his erudition, the Venice publishing house Giunti regularly supplied him with prints issued by La Frery in Rome and Cock in Antwerp, see Eliana Carrara and Sharon Gregory, ‘Borghini’s print purchases from Giunti’, Print Quarterly, 17 (2000), 3-17. 6 ‘Of the use of symbols, and why symbolic signs are used and put on arches in triumphs’, Caurivole, Il sontuoso apparato, p. 2. 7 Ibid., pp. 8-16.

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Greece and Rome. He then discourses on hieroglyphs, emblems and devices holding the latter in greater esteem on account of their virtuosity. He admits that symbols hide thoughts from the populace, but then argues that they allow grandeur and magnificence which people like and respond to. They thus offer more than simple words could manage, although he stresses the necessity of inscriptions and mottoes from medals as modes of expanding on the meaning of the symbols. This manifesto could stand as an introduction to understanding most princely entries. The seriousness which Caurivole attached to their role can be judged by his frequent references to the expert ‘Pierio’ [Pierio Valeriano (1477–1560)], and from the Tables printed at the end of his work where each symbol is identified (whether it be a stork’s wings or an elephant), and where ‘Notable Facts’, such as Egyptian hieroglyphs as messages from God, are catalogued. Spanish writers, in particular, were deeply preoccupied with symbols and their meanings. Anxious to exhibit their learning, and keen to explain the sense of the abundant symbols that adorned art works in entries, their reports swarmed with hieroglyphs, emblems and imprese. The will to explain was supported and justified by frequent references to the mysteries embodied in Egyptian hieroglyphs, and by citations from the work of specialists in iconology and on the invention of devices — from Valeriano, Cartari and Ruscelli, for instance.8 This attention can be illustrated from the work of two humanists who reported on entries in 1570. Mal Lara, in re-writing the entry of Philip II into Seville, specifically used Valeriano as a noted source for hieroglyphs; he evoked images still extant in the Roman Forum; and used symbols on coins to develop explanation. López de Hoyos referred to the same sources in his descriptions of the King’s entry into Madrid. In elaborating on the virtues of the monarch on the first arch, Mal Lara cited a host of writers: from Hesiod, Homer and Horace to Aelian, Poliziano and Du Choul. His discourses on Concordia and Felicitas Publica are typical: the meaning of the former is exposed by reference to Du Choul’s La religion des anciens Romains (Lyon, 1556), while the latter derived its sense from the reverse of a medal belonging to Emperor Severus and from Regis aequitas found on the reverse of a bronze medal depicting Tiberius Claudius Caesar.9 For his part, López de Hoyos presented the king’s entry into Madrid, again using Valeriano to elucidate the complex meanings of yet another Concordia, and by recourse to coins, to ‘el reverse en la moneda de la Emperatrix Faustina con esta letra Concordia’. That source had already been used in Toledo (1560) where Concordia provided the culminating point of the King’s entry as being that quality which would ensure the demise not only of Turks and Moors, but also of Luther’s creed.10 For the figure of Fortuna in Madrid (1570), the coins of Emperor Nerva supplied information with further elucidation furnished by Juvenal and Cicero.11 Understanding the full meaning of these symbols was important as spectators needed to appreciate that Harmony [Concordia] was the key to resolving conflict and suffering.

8 For a preliminary assessment of the abundance of references to symbols in Spanish entries, see Pizarro-Gomez, Arte y espectáculo, pp. 89-104. 9 Juan de Mal Lara, Recibimiento, references to symbols and their sources, pp. 96, 98, 104-48. Coins continued to be a valuable resource of inspiration for planners of entries, see Carmen Arnold-Biucchi, ‘Coins and Classical Imagery’, in Knaap and Putman, Art, Music and Spectacle, pp. 189-215. 10 Alvar Gomez de Castro, Recibimiento que la imperial ciudad de Toledo, ff. 15v-50r (f. 50v): ‘el Turco será destruydo, los moros serán nuestros tributares, la religión se limpiará de la mancha de Luthero’. 11 López de Hoyos, Real apparato, Concordia, ff. 68v-71r; Fortuna, ff. 83r-84v.

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Alfonso Caurivole, with his respect for the power of symbols and their divine lineage, elucidated the concept of Concordia in even more detail (Brescia 1591). He, too, used Valeriano’s text, less as a mere reference for support and information, but rather to be incorporated into the argument itself, demonstrating how the Republic of Venice — represented (on the Arco delle Legationi) as Neptune the god who had (according to Valeriano) served as the Peacemaker when Augustus had invaded Sicily — had in recent times acted as the conciliator between Savoy, France and Spain. In these negotiations, Cardinal Morosoni had brought to the table Prudence and Faith, and had secured not only Peace but also Concord [Plate VIII]. The achievement itself was inspired by his Diligence and Good Counsel, both virtues represented emblematically on the arch by a stork and bees. All the elements were prominently displayed on this first arch to set the tone for future arguments through symbols.12 Such careful referencing was not only the mark of the humanist. Inventors of entries were also proud of their ability to give concrete form to abstract concepts, and by the stroke of a brush to arouse feelings in the viewer which could be of an extreme and contrasting kind. The author of the account of Louis XIII’s entry into Avignon (1622), as he dwelt on the two great paintings on the theme of Royal Piety (one of which showed the Virgin in ecstasy), asserted: C’est un miracle sans rareté, dit S. Gregoire de Nazéance [sic], de donner un corps à sa pensée qui n’est que pur esprit, et la rendre perceptible au sens par un petit coup de langue comme captive par les oreilles de tout un monde, mais d’un coup de pinceau animé faire naistre tous les ressentimens et les passions d’une âme sur la toile, et trouvé dans un peu de couleur l’emboîture de deux extremitez si différentes comme sont l’austerité et la douceur, la cholere et la tristesse, sur les yeux que vous voyez languissants et comme esteints avec une vigueur impetueuse et vehemente, c’est ce que je ne peux assez admirer. Tout est icy muet, et tout y parle.13 [It is a miracle without pair, said St Gregory the Nazarene, to give form to a thought which is pure abstraction and to make it perceptible to the senses with a simple touch of the tongue, capturing the ear of a whole world, yet by the stroke of a lively pen on the canvas, bring to life all the resentments and passions of a soul, discovering with a touch of colour the interlocking of two extremes so different — like austerity and sweetness, anger and sadness, in those eyes which you see both languid and almost snuffed out, with a vehement and impetuous force — that’s what I cannot admire enough. Here, all is silent and everything speaks]. The expressive power of an image, packed with even contrary meanings, is here understood as an eloquent way of impressing the spectator directly, even if the sense had to be carefully sought. And in this regard, narrators of entries were well aware of their obligations. They recognized that they had a duty to report faithfully what had happened, and that they were required to explain the meanings hidden beneath the symbolism. As Caurivole had indicated, the explanation frequently took the form of inscriptions in the vulgar tongue, as in Tournai (1549) for the entry of prince Philip where they are explicitly used: ‘pour donner au peuple l’intelligence et connoissance dudict theatre historial’ [to give knowledge and 12 Caurivole, Il sontuoso apparato, p. 19. 13 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, pp. 223-25.

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understanding of the stories on the stage’]; and ‘pour mieulx donner l’histoire à entendre au commun populaire’ [to make the meaning of the story clearer to the common people].14 Recognition by planners and reporters of their responsibility to explain was universal. It was prominent in Spanish texts and in the examples from France studied below, although the analysis could easily be extended to the great entries into Florence and into the towns of the Netherlands, especially those into Antwerp. Pierre Gringoire was concerned that the reports of his inventions for the entry of Queen Claude into Paris (1517) were largely erroneous, and in his text he complained that: […] ignorans les effets Ditz et raisons contenus en icelle, Que soubz tels gens la verité se celle.15 [ignoring the effects, sayings and meanings contained therein, so that with such folk the truth is hidden]. His criticism sharpened as he saw in these reports the opposite of what he wanted to say; ‘only I, Pierre Gringoire’ can uncover the meaning; and he added: ‘Comme verras par ditz et vraye histoire’ [As will be seen through sayings and true reporting]. The author of the account of Louis XII’s entry into Rouen (1508) commented on the attributes carried by the nine Muses, designated ‘déesses de sapience’ [Goddesses of wisdom], and was at pains to set out the explanatory inscriptions in both Latin and French. However, when he recalled the detail of the spectacle at Notre — Dame, he merely observed: ‘La figure et signification d’icelle establie est de facile apprehension’ [The figure and meaning are well-established and easy to understand].16 A double approach to explanation was adopted by the narrator of King Henri II’s entry into Paris (1549). On the one hand, he promised not to forget the hieroglyphs (f. cijv), and expressed great satisfaction at the end of his account: ‘Voylà en somme quel fut l’artifice, invention et intelligence des dessusdits ouvrages’ (f. ejv) [There, in sum, you have the whole design, invention and meaning of all the aforesaid works]. On the other hand, there were occasions when he thought that educated readers would readily understand the import of the fictional characters he had invented: ‘Non l’invention des personnages faincts, qui semblent assez exprimez pour gens de bon entendement’.17 Despite this confidence, he still provided an explanation. Simon Bouquet (Paris 1571), was equally attentive. At the end of his address to the Reader, he brought together hieroglyphs, devices and inscriptions for the better understanding of the recipient.18 At Moulins (1595), Antoine de Laval promised the King

14 Texts from Tournai, edited by A. de la Grange, ‘Les entrées des souverains à Tournai’, pp. 5-321; (pp. 129 and 130). 15 Cynthia J. Brown (ed.), [Pierre Gringoire], Les entrées royales (1514) et (1517), p. 157. See also, illuminated text in the British Library, Cotton, Titus A XVII, Le sacre, couronnement, triomphe et entrée à Paris de Madame Claude de France, fille de Louis XII, roy de France et de Anne heritière de Bretagne, épouse de François Ier Roy de France […] avec figures. 16 Pierre Le Verdier, L’Entrée de Louis XII et de la Reine à Rouen, 1508, Société des Bibliophiles Normands (Rouen: Léon Guy, 1900), pp. 11-14, 18-21. The Muses reappeared on the third triumphal chariot at Rouen for the Queen’s entry which followed that of the Dauphin in 1532, Les entrées de la royne et de monseigneur le Daulphin […] faictes à Rouen en lan Mil cinq cens trente et ung (Paris: [Pierre Leber], Alain Lotrain, s. d. [1532]), sig. bjv. 17 Entry of Henri II into Paris 16 June 1549, f. bv v. 18 Yates, Entrée de Charles IX, f. 6v.

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a full exposition of the significance of the arch he had created for Henri IV’s entry: ‘[Sire], Voicy donc l’Interpretation des Figures, Emblemes, Inscriptions, et Devises de l’arc triomphal, que j’ay desseigné pour vostre Entrée en la ville’.19 The very title of Mathurin Regnier’s account of the inventions he had created for the entry of Marie de Médicis into Paris (May 1610 — an entry aborted by the assassination of Henri IV) made plain the nature of his text in which the phrase ‘par cecy est mystiquement entendu’ recurs throughout:20 Le discours et signification des arcs triomphans, inscriptions, devises, poesie, emblesmes, architectures et autres magnificences…Le tout suivant le subject et disposé son sens misticq. Not all writers were so accommodating. The Jesuit composer of the Avignon entry (1622) refrained from offering help not wishing to constrain his reader’s own interpretations. He declared that the recipient must rely on his own resources to penetrate the meaning of the devices mounted on the Fountain of Justice, for instance. Only by his own imaginative effort would he discover the true extent of the glory of the monarch, as the author explained: Je ne veux pas lier vostre esprit à une explication de ces devises, j’aime mieux vous laisser discourir dessus en liberté, vous y descouvrirez plus de rayons de la gloire de Louis le Juste, que ie ne vous en sçaurois depeindre sur un grand volume.21 [I do not wish to tie your mind with an explanation of these devices, I would rather leave you to ponder on them freely, when you will discover more rays of the glory of Louis the Just than I would be able to paint in a vast tome]. Planners of entries had good reason to be dictatorial for they were learned men, famous poets and experienced artists. Jean Martin (died 1553), a procurator in the Paris Parlement, heavily involved in the design of the King’s entry into the capital (1549), had been hailed by his contemporaries as a remarkable translator of important key texts for those who designed festivals. His translation of Horus Apollo’s Hieroglyphics came out in 1543; his version of Sebastiano Serlio’s Books of Architecture in 1546; the same year he published in French the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili of Francesco Colonna (1433/4-1527); and the following year he brought out a French translation of Vitruvius’ De Architectura. Martin’s translation of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, entitled Discours du songe de Poliphile, is of particular interest — since Colonna had been mesmerised by hieroglyphs — and his book, now adorned with elaborate engravings by Jean Goujon (c. 1510-c. 1565), was an inspiration for artists. On Jean Martin, Colonna’s influence was overwhelming as can be seen from the fact that the very words of his translation are echoed in the text describing Henri II’s entry into Paris (1549).22 For Colonna himself, the symbols which had been inscribed on public Egyptian monuments were a constant source of wonder and attraction. He reproduced them both in words (in Greek which he translated) and through images. He tried to explain their purpose while recognizing their immanent mystery and the uncertainty of fully discovering their meaning. Seduced by hieroglyphs on obelisks, he probed their sense and then composed 19 Antoine de Laval, Au Roy sur le discours de son entrée en sa ville de Moulins en Bourbonnais [1595], in Desseins des professions nobles, ff. 336-46 (f. 336). 20 For a discussion of the intentions apparent in this entry, McGowan, ‘Apology’, pp. 83-103. 21 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 201. 22 Bolduc’s careful reading of the text of Henri II’s Paris entry (1549) has made absolutely clear how the voice of Jean Martin is present not only in his translation of Colonna but also in the entry account, La Fête imprimée, pp. 74-75.

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Figure 6.1. Obelisk, engraved Jean Goujon.

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a discourse in which he described the forms inscribed on the structure and went on to elucidate their secrets. Colonna shows three designs — a square, a circle and a triangle. They shared a deep affinity for they represented the Divine Trinity in a single Essence. He explained the hieroglyphs at the centre of each design: the Sun in the square was the illumination of everything; the rod of governance in the circle signified infinite wisdom, while the vase filled with fire stood for divine goodness [Fig. 6.1.].23 Although filled with enigmatic images and with narratives purporting to explain them, Colonna’s text was fundamentally abstract. And yet, his book was mined for ideas, themes and images. Vincenzo Borghini (1515–1580), anxious to promote the cause of letters in his designs for the entry of Joanna of Austria into Florence (1566), consistently used his knowledge of ancient and modern literature to display the greatness of the city and the martial achievements of its dukes.24 At the Porta al Prato, alongside the statue of Force, he placed Letters and the Muses. Apollo, depicted as the father of sculpture, painting and architecture (pp. 17-18) also stood for Language and Poetry. Mars was flanked by the Muses with distinguished Florentine writers seated beneath Parnassus. Finally, at the Porta del Palagio, Borghini revisited all the elements painted on previous arches in order to demonstrate that the allegorical theme — Concordia — is achieved equally through literary as well as martial skills (pp. 114-18). Interestingly, he did not have recourse to Valeriano and other experts on symbolism as did Spanish writers, but cited famous literary works. Some considered his design too erudite, but Borghini was astute enough to praise his friend Giorgio Vasari (1511–1574), who stood high in Duke Cosimo’s esteem, and he listed all his colleagues, indicating very precisely their contributions: Alessandro Allori (1535–1607) who employed painters — Cresci and Giovanmaria Butteri; sculptors — Giovan Vincenzio de Servi and Francesco della Cammilla; canvases by Tito and Carlo Portelli and so on, ending with Federigo Zuccheri as the maker of the equestrian statue of Prudence (pp. 124-30). Simon Bouquet’s account of Charles IX’s Paris entry (1571) was much appreciated by Ronsard who helped to design the entry and wrote preliminary and congratulatory poems to the text, while Bouquet was himself a poet, having left verse adaptations of Alciati’s Emblemata in manuscript, many of which are echoed on the arches.25 He also composed several other poems for the entry itself. That he took a particular interest in the use of symbols can be deduced from a note in the accounts which show that, under Bouquet’s guidance, Marc Anthoine Margonne received thirty livres tournois for having written, during a period of eight months, ‘the devices, sayings, and poems in Greek, Latin and French for the triumphal arches’.26 Bouquet regarded such work of significance, and — in his text — he was careful to make sure that the sense of the symbols could be understood. In much the same way, for King James I’s entry into London (1604), Ben Jonson published a separate 23 Hieroglyphs are everywhere in this text, ff. 11v, 22v, 44v-5r (the obelisk and its hieroglyphs); ff. 85r-v, where another obelisk and its hieroglyphs is discussed, Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1499), trans. Jean Martin, Discours du Songe de Poliphile (Paris: Iaques Kerver, 1546). References to hieroglyphs come from Martin’s translation. 24 Mellini, Descrizione, pp. 56-65. 25 Bouquet was an official in the Paris Parlement; see Graham and McAllister Johnson’s edition for information on his manuscript poem Imitations d’Alciat, p. 119 note 77, and for his use of the emblems in the 1571 text, pp. 119-20, 149, 155 and 164. 26 Accounts cited in Graham and McAllister Johnson, p. 28.

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account which provided all the classical sources of the inscriptions used which he then explained together with the meaning of all the figures and their attributes.27 Some writers were reluctant to accept this approach. In his designs for the entry of Henri IV into Moulins (1595), Antoine de Laval had been keen to show off his erudition, as can be seen from the detail of his ambitious project (which was never realized), and from the learning he displayed as he packed symbol upon symbol onto the body of Memory who did finally figure on the sole arch erected on 26 September 1595. Memory was: Une figure de Memoire ailée au Ciel, coiffée de melisse, sa robe anrichie de Triangles solides de branches d’Amaranthe, de Serpans mordans leur queue tenans an une main un livre fermé, et an l’autre un rouleau.28 [in the heavens, a winged figure of Memory, anointed with balm, her robe was enriched with firm Triangles made from Amarantha branches and serpents biting their tails, holding in one hand a closed book, and in the other a scroll]. Although Laval set out to explain their properties, their purpose is hidden in the lengthy quotations from multiple ancient sources: from Pindar to Homer (in abundance), and from Lucan, Livy, Statius, Virgil, Manilius, Theocritus, Martial and Suidas. Finally, Laval deigned to put their lines into French, but with repeated reminders that Latin and Greek had ‘a better flavour’, and that it was a great burden — ‘une des plus grandes corvées’ — to translate the riches of these ancient tongues. Nonetheless he acquiesced, protesting on every line. It is impossible to visualize the decorative ideas of Laval who had so burdened his arch with symbols, and his text with citations, that the overall conception is obscured. The delight had been in conceiving them. Not so for the entry into Avignon (1600) where André Valladier provided for each monument a separate theatre on which were written, in French, inscriptions fully elucidating the sense of all the ‘Allegories et Aenigmes’ to be found on each arch. It was essential that Marie de Médicis and spectators be forced to admire the extraordinary martial feats of the King of France, destined to relieve his country from the sufferings of civil war. Initially attracted by the enigmatic symbol, they would turn to the theatre for information, and then, later, they could re-envision those deeds in all their glory and with their destructive effects through the medium of Valladier’s text [Fig. 6.2.]. An added touch of authenticity was that these texts (although in French) seemed ancient for they were engraved in large letters imitating classical Roman style.29 Symbolic representation allowed for double complex messages and for their assessment. In Piacenza (1538), Pope Paul III saw on the six arches erected for his pleasure paintings which mingled symbols and real people. Arch 4, for example, depicted St Paul, Pope Paul himself and his prisoners on one side while on the reverse symbols of Justice and Peace could be seen. On the next arch, at San Antonio, on its three doors, one side showed a dove, the sun and the moon, the other side depicted abstractions representing Peace, Faith and Hope. On the final display, symbolic images depicting contrasting or alternative elements 27 Text printed in Nichols, Progresses […] King James I, vol. I, pp. 377-99. 28 Laval, Desseins, f. 388 verso; see analysis by Nicolas Russell, ‘Construction et représentation de la mémoire collective dans les entrées triomphales au XVIe siècle’, Renaissance and Reformation/Renaissance et Réforme, 32 (2) (2009), 53-72; especially pp. 59-62. 29 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 54.

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were found simultaneously embodied in female forms — Severitas alongside Clementia, Superbia and Ignorantia side by side, providing lessons for Pope and people alike.30 In Paris, nearly a century later (1628), the twelve arches formed a coherent progression, passing through the positive virtues of Clemency, Piety, Justice, Prudence and so on before moving to more belligerent entities: Majesty and Force in battle and recompenses for Victory. From the acknowledgement of the needs of his people, and the King’s obligations to them, the symbolism changed to evoke his subjects and their humble reverence in front of impressive images of Magnificence designed to overwhelm them, before finally, in an ascendant curve, traced by the progress through the arches, it expressed the King’s culminating glory of Eternité.31 Real well-known statues were often incorporated into the line of temporarily made versions of the Virtues. At Florence (1515) a statue of Hercules was set in the western arch of the Loggia di Lanzi where, with Michelangelo’s David, it framed the door to the Palazzo Vecchio. In the same city (1589), the famous depictions of Hercules and David were admired in front of the palace. On the bridge, Gianbattista Bologna’s statues of Emperor Augustus and emperor Charles V greeted the Duchess, while on the two final arches, allegories replaced representations of real people: the civic virtues — ‘Onore and Virtù, Abundanza, Clementia, Magnificentia, Magnanimità, Prudenza and Securità, L’Eternità, and La Felicità’ — all were displayed with their inscriptions.32 Specific messages, relevant to current political concerns, were often transmitted by symbolic means. At his entry into Lyon (1564), the young King Charles IX saw allegories with themes of peace, concord and faith displayed before him constituting the hopes of his people suffering the consequence of religious strife which had broken out uncontrollably in 1562. Mirror of virtue, fortunate reign, and a king’s charisma were set forth imbued with heavenly virtues as the planners tried to persuade citizens of the inherent power of monarchy with its support from heaven and its ability to make all well again and to install the True Faith — ‘le triomphe de la Foi’, exhibited on the final arch set against the front of the cathedral.33 At Caen, some years later in 1588, the visit of the new Governor of the Province, the Duc d’Epernon, was exploited to expose the poverty and calamitous ruin of the region. The fragility of their affairs was made clear from the speeches of officials who begged for an end to their miseries which were depicted on the enormous canvas dominating the Porte Millet at the beginning of the Duke’s journey. Painted there was a woman representing the province of Normandy, covered in clouds and fog, threatened by thunderbolts just ready to burst and land upon her. But, from the east crept in a faint light which would gradually chase away those threats. This large figurative image represented the hopes of citizens invested in their new Governor.34

30 La Triomphale Entrata della S. di Papa Paulo III in la nobile Città di Piacenza, con il significato de le Epitaphi, che contine in li Archi Triomphali, e il gran apparato fatto de Cittadini piacentini ([n. pub.], [1538]). 31 Machaud, Eloges, from La Clémence du roi (arch 1) to L’Eternité de la gloire du roi (arch 12); reproduction of all these images can be found in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 154-81. 32 See John Shearman, ‘The Florentine Entrata of Leo X, 1515’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 33 (1975), 136-53; p. 140; for 1589, Gualterotti, Della Descrizione, pp. 73, 148 and 164. 33 Analysis of this entry by Luisa Capodieci, ‘Procul este profani: hermétisme et symbolique du pouvoir dans l’entrée de Charles IX à Lyon 1564’, in Nassichuk, Vérité et fiction, pp. 151-88. 34 Iaques de Cahaignes, Discours de l’entrée du duc d’Epernon à Caen le 14 mai 1588, R. de Formigny de la Londe (ed.), Société des Bibliophiles Normands, 66 (Rouen: L. Guy, 1903), pp. 11-12.

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Figure 6.2. Triumphal arch (1600), engraved Matthaeus Greutner.

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Allegories as Expressions of Victory and Punishment Such symbolism was also used to project feelings of exultation at Victory accompanied by its corollary, the punishment and crushing of the enemy — justified in glowing terms for these were heretics. A good example of this kind of flattery combined with justice was at Binche on the arch erected in front of the palace built by Mary of Hungary to welcome her brother Emperor Charles V and his son Philip in August 1549. Mars (War) and Pallas (Knowledge) dominated and, along the length of the architrave, were lined up the princes and generals whom the Emperor had vanquished and made prisoner. The imperial titles, inscribed beneath, trumpeted the power of the conqueror: ‘Divo Carlo Quinto Caesari Imperatori Maximo’. Below the cornice appeared animals as symbols: an eagle pursuing a hare; an eagle holding a hare in its talons. These signified (as Calvete de Estrella’s text makes clear) the destruction of the Turks in Hungary and François Ier held prisoner after the Battle of Pavia. Under the vault were captive princes of many nations, their ships broken and dispersed, buildings shored up with the riches captured in combat from defeated rivals and, in addition, images of the many kingdoms and cities conquered by the Emperor ‘qui s’est couvert d’une gloire immortelle’ [who has covered himself in immortal glory]. There, too, were further animal symbols — an eagle pursuing and capturing a fox, signifying the capture of the Duc de Saxe and of the Landgrave Philippe de Hesse. Thus, the elements of Caesar’s triumph are transformed from a processional mode and placed onto the packed surface of the arch where general evidence of war is accompanied by specific reference to key moments of success in Charles V’s military career.35 It is noteworthy that, although the depiction of victory, of its rewards and its horrible consequences is clearly rendered through general images, the specific reference to individual acts of military domination is couched in figurative terms. It behoved artists, however enthusiastically they wished to flatter their prince and share in his glory, to cover signs of absolute power so that its consequences, although understood, did not frighten. The image of the eagle and the hare transfers the reality of capture to the natural world. The presence of the Emperor himself gazing upon the images animates the might implied in the image and draws it into the world of war and domination.36 So it is that there is a huge range of symbolic forms through which counsel and comment could be simultaneously hidden and displayed. Human figures disguised as Virtues or Vices acting out their meaning were common in early princely entries. These, however, were soon superseded by more complex modes of expression. Emblems and devices were taken over from a developing taste for poems and pictures interdependent upon each other. Hieroglyphs were designed to intrigue and attract by their very obscurity, or inscriptions in ancient languages — Greek or Latin — encouraged observers to think that they were being told venerable truths from the past. Initially, allegories (invented to convey abstract notions) were the major mode of communicating hopes of citizens and giving advice to their prince. Their meaning emerged through the operation of complex mechanical devices as in the entry of Anne de Bretagne (Paris, 1502) where, at the gate of 35 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. III, pp. 81-83. 36 The discussion of Christian Biet on realism and fiction in the images created for princely entries is very pertinent, ‘Les monstres aux pieds d’Hercule’, XVIIe siècle, 212 (2001), 383-403.

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Figure 6.3. Device of King Louis XII.

St Denis, a huge heart representing city of Paris opened up to reveal Loyalty and Honour in homage to their Queen.37 Dramatic actions of symbolic intent could replace such technical feats as Queen Mary had observed at her entry into the capital (1514) where, on the same gate, recent political events figured in the allegories with Church, Nobility, Merchandise and Labour, all scrupulously labelled and in contention with War. The final episode of the allegorical drama was enacted as Peace descended from the heavens to batter down War, a message reinforced by a great bearded giant (Hercules) standing aloft on the gate in the act of decapitating Cerberus.38 In Charles VIII’s entry into Rouen (1485), the contest had taken the form of a dialogue where allegories spelt out the names of the city and of the King and, through the symbolism, set out the expectations of the people in their interpretations of his role. This entry was remarkable for the tightness of its structure and the logic of its debate.39 Such coherence was rare in princely entries where planners tended to pile up as many symbols as the platforms and arches could hold. The city of Rouen,

37 Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la ville de Paris, vol. I (1499–1526), pp. 63-66, 95-97. 38 Cited in Brown, [Pierre Gringoire], Les entrées royales, pp. 35-36. 39 For an analysis of the remarkable coherence of the allegories used in this entry, Joël Blanchard, ‘Le spectacle du rite; les entrées royales’, Revue historique, 627 (2003), 475-519.

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however, continued to create spectacular allegories performed by ingenious mechanical devices such as the combat between the serpent with three heads (representing Milan, Genoa and the King of the Romans) and a porcupine (Louis XII’s device) [Fig. 6.3.]. The narrator described the spirited action which ended, inevitably, in the serpent’s defeat: Se combattans longuement ensemble. Le monstre se deffendoit de ses horribles pattes, en mouvant ailles et teste a grand puissance et jettant feu. Le porc espi, tout au contraire, poursuivoit ledict monstre de la dent et de ses espics, en jettant iceux contre ledict monstre, par sy grand vertu que finalement il fut victorieux d’iceluy.40 [They fought together for a long time; the monster defending itself with its horrible paws, powerfully moving its wings and head and breathing forth fire. The porcupine, on the contrary, pursued the monster with its teeth and its spikes, throwing them against the beast with such courage that finally it emerged victorious]. More simple mobile allegories were acted out at Ypres in 1549 where numerous young girls greeted Prince Philip performing stories from the Bible while, a few days later, at Béthune, the Prince witnessed more scenes dramatically presented, the figures all labelled with their names and their action explained by means of inscriptions traced upon the arch. The Prince was, however, to encounter at Tournai a mechanical device which apparently delighted the crowd — a statue of Emperor Charles V had been so constructed that whenever a spectator approached, from whatever direction, the statue turned in greeting.41 In early entries, the human/symbolic figures had often remained static, with labels indicating their meaning prominently displayed on their persons. At Paris (1517), Queen Claude’s qualities were exposed as she was depicted at the Porte St Denis in the company of Justice, Magnanimity, Prudence and Hope, or at the Porte des Peintres alongside Faith and Charity. The same virtues had been seen by Louis XII at Lyon in July 1507, with the addition of Force, Diligence and Ardent Desire on the first arch.42 The Cardinal Virtues had figured prominently in Margaret Tudor’s entry into Edinburgh in 1503 and, in his manuscript account, the Somerset Herald John Yonge made it clear that he knew both the nature and meaning of their individual attributes: Justice holdynge in hyr haund a swerd all naked, and in the tother a paire of ballances, and she had under hyr feet the kyng Neron; Force, that was armed, holdyng in hyr haund a shafte, and under hyr feet was Olofernes, all armed; after, Temperaunce, holdying in hy[r] haund a bitt of an horse, and under hyr feette was [E]picurus; after Prudence, holdynge in hy[r] haunde a syerge [candle] and under hyr Sordenopalus [Sardanapalus]…43 These somewhat simplified and labelled designations had long been used in the Ommegang, the annual morality processions put on by the Chambers of Rhetoric in towns in the Netherlands, and their influence had infiltrated into princely entries where 40 41 42 43

Le Verdier, L’entrée du roi Louis XII, p. 14. Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. II, pp. 121, 139; and vol. III, pp. 11-12. Georges Guigue (ed.), Entrée de Louis XII à Lyon, 17 juillet 1507. Cited on page 21 in Douglas Gray’s analysis (pp. 16-22) of Yonge’s record (manuscript, College of Arms MS 1 M.13, ff. 76-115v), ‘The Royal Entry in 16th-century Scotland’, in Mapstone and Hood, The Rose and the Thistle, pp. 10-32.

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allegorical wagons carrying topical messages replaced the static triumphal arches. They were used in the entry of the Duc d’Anjou into Antwerp (1582) where six cars drove through the city loaded with symbols commenting on current political concerns.44 For the entry of Archduke Matthias into Brussels in 1578, a crowd of female figures bearing attributes to indicate their role had been assembled. There were displayed Constantia, Magnanimitas and Fides carrying armour; Justitia with eyes bound, garnished with a sword and scales; Fortitudo brandishing a sword and broken mirror, and so on, until the last scene of all which depicted war with Turks lying prostrate on the ground. Above this, a triumphing soldier with mace and chains dominated the centre of the image; beneath him was a female figure representing Destruction, dishevelled and defeated.45 Such moral concentration was characteristic of Dutch art and it carried over into designs for tapestries in the series Los Honores woven for Emperor Charles V from prints produced by Marten van Heemskerck (1498–1574) and Ambrosius Francken (1544–1618), and engraved by Hieronymus Wierix (1553–1619) to educate a broad public on the moral state of the community.46 Members of the Chambers of Rhetoric continued to participate offering political comment and counsel. Their preoccupation with symbolic representations of moral virtues and vices is evident in the works they designed as planners of princely entries. Statues replaced human forms at other times and carried the burden of symbolic messages attributing virtues to princes: to Emperor Charles V when he entered Seville in 1526 with his wife Isabella. Prudence, Force, Clemency, Peace, Justice, Faith and Glory were explained through inscriptions in Latin and verses sung in Italian. On the second arch, for example, dedicated to Forteza, Charles V appeared fully armed (‘a tutte arme’), with a naked sword in his hand, trampling down Superbia with his feet. On the right of the statue of Forteza were the virtues which supported kingly duties: Amore, Vigore, Vergogna, Constantia — all wearing crowns. On the left were all the vices — Presumptione, Disperso, Temerita and Superbia — who spoke lines in Latin, repeated in Spanish, with the inscription ‘La insuperabile Forteza de Carlo’. The adulation was consistent throughout.47 In the courtyard of the palace in Milan (1549), Prince Philip was similarly faced with statues representing

44 A detailed eye-witness account of the Ommegang procession in Antwerp can be found in Richard Clough’s report for 1561, reproduced in J. W. Burgon, The Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham, 2 vols (New York: Franklin, 1966), vol. I, pp. 377-92. For the significance of Ommegang and their symbolism in the literary and political life of the Netherlands, see Anne-Laure van Bruaene, ‘A wonderfull trymfe, for the wynnyng of a pryse’: Guilds, Ritual, Theater and the Urban Network in the Southern Low Countries, c. 1450-1650’, Renaissance Quarterly, 59 (2) (2006), 374-405. Emily J. Peters, ‘Printing Ritual. The Performance of Community in Christopher Plantin’s La Joyeuse et Magnifique Entrée de Mgr Françoys […] duc d’Anjou (Antwerp, 1582)’, Renaissance Quarterly, 61 (2008), 370-413, and Thofner, A Common Art, pp. 94-115. 45 Sommare beschrijuinghe vande triumpheliche Incomst vanden voorluctighen ende hoogdgheboren Hertss-hertage Matthias […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1579). The same virtues appeared on a series of nine triumphal cars designed to celebrate the peace agreed at Vervins (1598), in the college of St Teodoro in Venice: Gio Luigi Collini, Explicatione de i carri trionfali fatti nella processione per la pace fra Franza, e Spagna. Dalla Scola di S. Teodoro, il di Iuglio 1598 (Venice: Marc Antonio Zaltieri, 1598). 46 G. Delmarcel, Los Honores. Tapisseries flamandes pour Charles Quint (Antwerp: Pandora/Shoick-Ducajn and Zoon, 2000). See also Emily J. Peters, ‘Processional Print Series in Antwerp during the Dutch Revolt’, Print Quarterly, 32 (3) (2015), 259-70. 47 Feste et Archi Triumphali furono fatti nella intrata dello Invittissimo Cesare Carolo V […] et de la Seren. Et Potentissima Signora Isabella […] in la nobilissima e fidelissima Città de Siviglia, 3 Marzo, 1526 ([n. pub.], [n.d.]).

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the cardinal virtues, their messages made clear through the well-known attributes they held. These static sculpted forms could, through commentary, seem to come alive and move as in Lyon (1548) where two allegorical scenes of combat were depicted on the Temple of Honour and Virtue at the Bourgneuf. On the left Honour battles successfully against the enemy and on the right the figures of Reason and Sense fight against various monsters symbolizing Violence, Ignorance and Bestiality.48 The care with which such statues were invented can be judged from the set of 66 drawings by Martin de Vos, made for the Antwerp entry (1594), and which survive in the Print Room at Antwerp. Probably inspired by Ripa’s Iconologia (first published in the previous year), the series presents all the statues used in the entry — from the Four Parts of the World — with, in addition, finely delineated sketches for Bona Causa, Concordia, Consuetudo, Justicia, Benignitas, Severitas and Vigilantia.49 The urge to explain the application of such virtues to current political concerns is evident in Henri d’Oultremans’s presentation of Albert and Isabella’s entry into Valenciennes (1600) [Fig. 6.4.]. A relatively small city, Valenciennes depended on the skills of artists imported from elsewhere, and Guillaume du Vos and two other painters from Antwerp (Lemesureur and Adolphe Score) came to the rescue. D’Oultremans details the decorations on all the arches and theatres, and those in the Grande Place which joined together the themes of violence and hope. A triumphal chariot is shown, dedicated to Peace, Faith, Hope and Charity, crushing Envy with its wheels. On each side emblems were drawn denoting succour for the needy: a pelican nourishing its young from the blood pouring from its breast and a chicken protecting its little ones beneath its wings. The needs of the citizens are clearly implied, but spelt out even more distinctly on the cornice above the statue of Hope: Au dessus de la cornice […] un navire, les mâts rompus, les voiles déchirées par la tempête menaçant de s’engloutir dans les flots, tandis que les matelots élevent vers le ciel leurs mains suppliant et implorant un Dieu Sauveur. Une nymphe debout sur la poupe, un lion couché à ses pieds, symbolise la Belgique.50 [Above the cornice…a ship with broken masts, its sails torn by the tempest which threatens to sink the vessel in the waves, while sailors raise their hands to heaven pleading and imploring God the Saviour. A nymph standing aloft on the prow with a lion spread out at her feet symbolizes Belgium]. The political resonance of such images was explicit. The country over which Albert and Isabella had come to govern was in a parlous state, ravaged by war, and suffering from the presence of Spanish soldiers who punished the citizens daily.

48 Cooper, The Entry of Henri II into Lyon (1548), p. 55. 49 See the article by Antoinette Doutrefont, ‘Martin de Vos et l’entrée triomphale de l’Archiduc Ernst à Anvers, 1594’, Bulletin de l’Institut historique belge à Rome, fasc. 18 (1937), pp. 125-96. 50 Henri d’Oultremans, La joyeuse entrée d’Albert et d’Isabelle à Valenciennes, 20 fév. 1600, trans. Théophile Louise (Valenciennes: Lemaître, 1877), p. 24. The original text is incorporated into Bochius, Descriptio publicae (1602).

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Figure 6.4. Title page of entry into Valenciennes (1600), engraved Pieter van der Borcht.

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Imprese, Hieroglyphs, and Dynasties Frequently these sculpted forms, when associated with a person’s impresa, were turned into dynastic claims for the purposes of moral edification or celebration. A genealogical tree of emperors faced Margaret of Austria when she entered Geneva in 1501 where she discovered, at its base, the inscription ‘Haec est flos agri’ [All flesh is grass], warning against praise for earthly achievement as death will always triumph.51 Conversely, when another Margaret of Austria entered Genoa in 1598, she found all her famous ancestors lined up, dressed in Roman military apparel with inscriptions pointing to their victories: Emperor Charles V’s defeat of the Turks; Ferdinand V driving the Turks out of Vienna; or Maximilian II’s victories in Hungary. Dynastic considerations had also loomed large at Louvain where on the first arch erected for Prince Philip’s entry (1549), emblematic personifications of the body and spirit of the city were prominently displayed.52 These had also dominated Florentine entries in 1566 and 1589 when genealogical trees of the Medici were constructed to trumpet their triumphs. At Florence (1589), the portraits of the long line of the Medici family and that of the Lorraine dukes were depicted on the arches with Gualterotti’s detailed commentary on the significance of each. Catherine de Médicis, her progeny, and marital connections stretching across Europe was the starting point on the second arch, while the Lorraine dynasty reached back to Godefroy de Bouillon’s triumphs over the Infidel on arch III. It was a grand Family Affair.53 Similar propagandist intentions explain the presence of Philip II’s ancestors displayed on one of the great arches that greeted him as he left St Martin’s church in Valencia (1585),54 while the merchants of Lisbon were careful to depict on their arch (1619), every king and hero who had fought successfully to promote the country’s interests so that Philip III understood the dignified past of the land over which he now ruled and what was expected of him.55 For humanists who regarded allegories as rather obvious modes of symbolism which reflected neither their ingenuity nor their erudition, other forms were adopted. Authors of books on emblems and devices all claimed their usefulness for moral and political instruction, and for artists. Claude Paradin (1510–1573) in his preface to his Devises héroïques (1557), wrote how his book would aid the uneducated to know and love virtue.56 Gilles Corrozet (1510–1568), in his Hecatongraphie (1540) argued the importance of bringing text and image together and traced their origin to hieroglyphics noting that his work was indispensable for painters, embroiderers, silversmiths and the like.57 That the significance 51 Gordon Kipling, Enter the King (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), for an analysis of allegorical triumphs of death. 52 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. I, p. 168. 53 Gualterotti, Della Descrizione, arch II, pp. 50-80; arch III, pp. 81-100; and Philippe Morel, ‘Portrait éphémère et théâtre de mémoire dans les entrées florentines, 1565 et 1589’, in A. Gentili, Philippe Morel and Claudia Cieri Via (eds), Il ritratto e la memoria, 2 (Rome: 1989-93), pp. 285-333. 54 Henrique Cock, Añales, pp. 234-40. 55 Juan Bautista Lavanha, Viage de la Católica Real, ff. 15v-22r. 56 ‘se pourra ayder le vulgaire à connoître et aymer la vertu’, Claude Paradin, Devises héroïques (Lyon: Jean de Tournes, 1557), reprint Scolar Press, 1971, p. 5. 57 Gilles Corrozet, Hecatongraphie (Paris: Denis Janot, 1540), reprint Scolar Press 1974, sig. Aiijv: ‘Chascune hystoire est d’image illustrée / Affin que soit plus clarement monstrée / L’invention, et la rend autenticque / Qu’on put nommer lettre hieroglyphicque [… / …] Aussy pourront ymagers et tailleurs, / Painctres, brodeurs, orfevres, esmailleurs / Prendre en ce livre aulcune fantaisie / Comme ilz feront d’une tapisserie’.

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of such works was generally accepted might be adduced from Calvete de Estrella’s report at the beginning of his account of Prince Philip’s long journey in 1549. When the court reached Padua, a large number of learned men went off to visit Andrea Alciati (1492–1550) and Hieronymus Cardanus (1501–1576) in their homes, the one celebrated in law and for his Emblemata (1531), the other in medicine and mathematics. Alciati was chosen to make a Latin speech before the whole court and it was praised for its elegance and succinctness.58 Using the works of such celebrities, planners of entries thought that they were introducing spectators and readers to a new world which opened up secrets from which they might profit. Jean Martin in his designs for Henri II’s entry into Paris (1549), in addition to the influence of Colonna, also found ideas in Alciati’s Emblemata: the figure of Concordia (for instance) with the motto Bonus eventus [Good Event] inscribed on the arch in front of St Jacques de l’Hospital.59 Increasingly, organisers were aware that (if their erudite symbols were to be understood) they must prepare their readers in advance concerning the general themes and arguments to be deployed. Thus, Simon Bouquet, at the beginning of his account (Paris 1571) wrote: Mais premier que d’entrer en la description j’ay advise (amy lecteur) faire un sommaire en ce lieu de ce qu’on peult recueillir des hieroglyphiques, devises et inscriptions qui y estoient.60 [But before entering into my description, I have decided (Dear Reader) to provide, in this place, a summary of what might be gathered from the hieroglyphs, devices and inscriptions which were there]. The main themes are then set out. Valladier (Avignon, 1600) went further, constantly quoting his sources as justification for the use of symbols, to show off his knowledge and to make the meaning clear. Wishing therefore to associate the device of the city — the beak and talons of a sparrow hawk — with his overall metaphor of the labyrinth of Hercules, he had recourse (as Alfonso Caurivole and Spanish writers had done) to Pierio [Pierio Valeriano, 1477–1560] whose great work on symbols was readily available. There, he discovered in Book VI that Victoria Perpetua could be found on a column in Viterbo where two sparrow hawks signifying the victories of Hercules were inscribed. Valladier cites Pierio’s Hieroglyphica in full to prove that the device of Avignon is also that of Hercules: ‘L’Ecusson d’Avignon est plustost l’Ecusson d’Hercule’. The explanation has used up two full folio pages of his vast text.61 This length is a feature that tends to characterize later accounts of entries where the urge to explain is almost as great as to cram ever more emblems and devices onto a canvas. If an artist or writer does not set out to prove something, as Valladier has done, then the message could be given succinct and abbreviated form. When Louis XII rode triumphantly into Genoa (1502), he carried on his tunic the device of a beehive with the motto ‘Rex non utitur aculeo’ [the King does not use his sting). This ingenious device provoked at one and the same time curiosity (because its meaning was not immediately apparent), and relief

58 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. I, pp. 55-56. 59 Discussion in McFarlane, The Entry of Henri II into Paris, p. 51. 60 Cited in Graham and McAllister Johnson, The Paris Entries, p. 105. 61 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, pp. 6-7.

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when the message was understood. Louis XII had the power to hurt, but he would not use it. Paolo Giovio emphasized the usefulness of devices as a mode of recognition especially in battle.62 Their importance for personal use was spelt out at Henri II’s coronation (Reims, 1547) when the King ordered that his own device — the crescent moon — replace his father’s salamander in all the processions and on all the monuments.63 Their meaning was, however, often ambiguous. Other princes adopted imprese which (like that of Louis XII) implied both restraint and potential violence. Alfonso I of Ferrara chose the figure of a bombshell with the motto Loco et Tempore; and Federigo de Montefeltro had a sword balanced against an olive branch. The same double meaning was present in Leonardo da Vinci’s design for Louis XII’s entry into Milan (1507) where a mechanical lion (representing force) was filled with lilies (signs of peace and of French power).64 Such clever imprese became popular in European courts where the capacity to invent these personal puzzles was much admired and emulated. The same power and significance attributed to devices were also common in royal entries. At Rouen (1532), for instance, on the final theatre on the Pont de Rebec, as a climax to the Queen’s entry, was displayed her device — a phoenix emerging from the flames — it sat beside François Ier’s salamander living in fire. Inscriptions spelt out the dual presence of flames and their moral power.65 Instances of the elaborate use of imprese also came in equestrian displays. Here are two typical examples. All twelve squadrons of knights who entered the lists in Rome (1565) wore devices created for the occasion, and they were followed by squires representing virtues. For example, Don Giovanni d’Avalos, organiser of the event, had Justice, Fortitude, Prudence, Temperance, Magnanimity, Hope and Vigilance in his train.66 In Paris (1612), for the lavish Carrousel that anticipated the union of the French and Spanish dynasties, knights rode to the lists as if they were emerging from a roman de chevalerie. The Duc de Guise was Almidor with the Lorraine badge of eagles on his garments accompanied by the motto Nec Fulgara Terrent [Lightning does not frighten them], and Bassompierre was Lysandre, his tunic marked with his device — a rocket, and the motto Da l’ardere lardire [Fired with ardour]. These knights, with their qualities written on their person, transferred into an animated processional mode the static kind of symbolism that had been on arches for princely entries.67 As has been noted, hieroglyphs seem to have had an irresistible attraction for entry organisers. Concentrated on the obelisks in Paris (1549) and Rouen (1596), they illustrated the form as well as the characters derived from the works of Horus Apollo and from Francesco Colonna 62 Paolo Giovio, Dialogue des devises d’armes et d’amour (Lyon: G. Rouillé, 1561), cited by Le Roux, Le Crépuscule de la chevalerie, p. 81. 63 L’Entrée du Roi Très Chrétien Henri II dans la ville de Reims et son couronnement (Venice: Paolo Gherardo, 1547), trans. from the Italian, Hugues Krafft (Reims: Académie nationale, 1913), p. 2. The symbolism of this coronation entry was exhaustively explained in Jacobus Chichou’s eulogy: De adeptione Regni, where parallels with Hercules, Horatius and Theseus abound. 64 For such devices, see Hale, Renaissance War Studies, chapter 13, ‘War and Public Opinion in Renaissance Italy’, p. 363. 65 Les entrées de la reyne et de monseigneur le daulphin […], sig. cjv v. 66 Mario Tosi, Il torneo di Belvedere in Vaticano. 67 Paulette Choné, ‘The Dazzle of Chivalric Devices; Carrousel on the Place Royale’, in McGowan, Dynastic Marriages, pp. 155-64. For a full account of all the devices which stressed the fictional content of their design, see François de Rosset, Le Romant des chevaliers de la Gloire […] (Paris: La Vefve Pierre Bertaud, 1612).

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(1433/4-1527) whose Hypnerotomachia (1499) is cited in the festival accounts [Fig. 6.5.].68 Both set forth conceptions of the ideal monarch through signs on the obelisk supported on the back of a rhinoceros in Paris, or through the Labours of Hercules surmounted by an imperial crown, set up for Henri IV (Rouen 1596). Hieroglyphs also occurred on other forms of display. At Trente (1549), an arch in the antique manner at the entrance to the palace courtyard, displayed eight Thermae each one having at its base symbols and emblems derived from Egyptian hieroglyphs: Au pied de chacun d’eux étaient tracés des symboles ou des emblèmes empruntés aux hieroglyphes dont se servaient les Egyptiens.69 [At the base of each were drawn symbols or emblems borrowed from the hieroglyphs used by the Egyptians]. A stag and a phoenix resting amid flames stood for Prudence; a swarm of bees indicated Obedience; a lion represented Fortitude and Vigilance; a leopard suggested Audacity; a dolphin astride a tortoise implied speed; a naked sword spoke Peace and Justice; while a serpent curled around an imperial crown stood for Eternal Empire — such were the hopes of the citizens of this Italian city for the future Philip II. At Lyon, nearly fifty years later (1595), three lions stood on the cornice of the arch dedicated to the Force and Generosity of Henri IV. The first, with branches of palm and wings on its back was a sign of the city’s speedy decision to support the King after initial opposition to his rule. The second, ‘un hieroglyphe de générosité et de magnanimité’ had stars embedded on its 68 Engravings of obelisks (probably drawn by Jean Goujon) can be found on ff. 5r, 44r, 85r, in Martin’s Discours du Songe; their meaning is explained fully in the text. 69 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. I, p. 119.

Figure 6.5. Obelisk, entry into Paris (1549).

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forehead and on its breast, denoting — through the celestial reference — the god-given qualities of Henri IV. The third was a lion without claws: its breast covered by a shield of steel spoke of Union and Concord with its motto Concors in pectore virtus, ultimately borrowed from Pliny who is cited by Matthieu.70 The word hieroglyph itself seemed to have had a special quality in the minds of these writers. They used it as a signal to point out some mysterious content which only their knowledge and ingenuity could unravel (although, in fact, the ability to understand the import of Egyptian symbols was a long way off). Even Poliphile, despite his enthusiasm for hieroglyphs, admitted ‘leur signification me sembla fort ambigue’ [their meaning seemed to me to be very ambiguous]. This admission did not prevent him from offering confident explanations.71 This kind of initial hesitancy has led scholars to question our ability to penetrate sixteenth-century understanding of images.72 Such uncertainty explains, perhaps, the abundance of inscriptions which, taken by themselves, scarcely helped elucidate meaning except for their humanist peers who were expected to appreciate the range and depth of learned reference to renowned writers from the past and to enjoy the process of discovery. They lamented, as Laval had done at Moulins (1595), the necessity of translation. Nevertheless, they recognized that their texts were aimed at a wider audience and complied, not only by translating inscriptions into French, Italian, English or Dutch (the Latin inscriptions for Rubens’s designs at Antwerp in 1635 were printed in Flemish a mere forty-eight hours after Ferdinand’s entry),73 but also by adding extensive commentaries as though they were producing animadversions on some difficult ancient text. The importance of these inscriptions should not be underestimated. They were carefully composed and set strategically beneath the image on each arch, serving to explain and reinforce the meaning of the symbol.74 Those who composed them believed in their authoritative power since they were copying a mode of record inscribed on Roman ruins, considered at this time as almost sacred witnesses saved from antiquity. The Italian observer of Henri II’s coronation entry into Reims (1547) in commenting upon the twelve ladies representing the virtues of the King who adorned the second arch wrote: Je compris cette signification par l’inscription qui désignait, à un endroit visible, le chevalier et les dames, car de moi-même, je n’aurais pas su interpreter ces subtilités françaises.75 [I understood their meaning (of the knight and the ladies) from the inscription placed in a visible spot; by myself I would never have been able to interpret these French subtleties]. 70 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, pp. 36-37. 71 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia, trans. Martin, Discours du Songe, f. 11. 72 E. H. Gombrich, ‘Icones Symbolicae. Philosophies of Symbolism and their Bearing on Art’, in Gombrich on the Renaissance. Vol. 2: Symbolic Images (London: Phaidon, 1978), vol. II, pp. 123-91; and Peter H. Wilson, The Holy Roman Empire (London: Allen Lane, 2016), p. 266. 73 Knaap and Putnam, Art, Music and Spectacle, pp. 95-96. 74 For the growth in significance attached to inscriptions at this period, Florence Vuilleumier-Laurens and Daniel Russell, L’Age de l’inscription: la rhétorique du monument en Europe du XVe au XVIIe siècles (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2010). 75 L’Entrée du roi très-chrétien français, Henri II, p. 5. On the care that continued to be taken on the devising and placing of inscriptions, see Bolduc’s discussion of the final arch designed for Louis XIV’s entry into Paris (1660), La Fête imprimée, pp. 259-67.

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The Sun: Symbol of Power Power could radiate out from a single image, absorb and explain deep political aspirations and military deeds. Such an emblematic symbol was the Sun which became associated with virtually every prince in Christendom at this time. Almost every French writer of memoirs referred to the king as ‘our Sun’ whose warmth penetrates everywhere, and Monluc provides a typical statement: ‘Nostre soleil, c’est le Roy qui nous esclaire et eschauffe de ses rayons, quelque part que nous soyons’.76 The Sun was used by German merchants for Philip II’s entry into Lisbon (1581) after he had taken control of the country in 1580. Borrowing the idea from Ruscelli’s Le Imprese illustri (1566), they depicted Philip as the Sun, signifying that the King was now a global ruler, and they reinforced the image with the motto ‘Iam illustrabit omnia’ [Now, I shine over all] [Fig. 6.6.].77 A few years later, in Pisa (1588), Giovanni Cervoni records how, at the Porta San Marco, the presence of Ferdinando de’ Medici in the city was depicted ‘come à lo splendor del sole, et pero gli dice Tu veni, tu vedi, io ti surgo’ [like the splendour of the sun, and it may be said You came, you saw and you rose up]. An interpretation follows. As the Sun, the prince will bring benefits to the city, the soil will be fertile and affairs will prosper again. The message is supported by quotations from authoritative texts: Virgil’s Eclogues, Ovid’s Fasti and the poems of Catullus and Tibullus.78 The image of the Sun also had a particular interest for French writers and artists. Long before Louis XIV became the Sun King, predecessors had aspired to this status; or, at least, writers represented them in this way. Antoine de Laval, for instance (Moulins, 1595), had cited Homer, Virgil and Manilius to demonstrate the parallel between the indefatigable qualities of the Sun’s constant journey round the earth, and the ceaseless labours of Henri IV on behalf of his people. For Laval, he is the ‘vray Soleil de nostre aage’. Whatever hieroglyphs are associated with the sun, they always represent the King and that superior power of God Himself.79 Mathurin Regnier’s retrospective creation of Henri IV’s victorious career for the entry of Marie de Médicis into Paris (1610) turned the parallel into a fusion. On the final arch displaying the King as Jupiter in a triumphal car drawn by Fame, his royal visage is painted onto the surface of the Sun, as a mark of his lasting radiance.80 The scribe at Rouen (1588) had traced the movements of the sun across the heavens and had drawn out the dreadful consequences when such a journey is disturbed. His analysis began with an assertion that the State and the city are structures whose harmonies (in order and administration) reflect those of the heavens. As he watched the wonderful order of the reception given to Henri III, he

76 Commentaires de Messire Blaise de Monluc, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 7 (1553), p. 163: ‘Our Sun is the King who enlightens and warms us with his rays wherever we are’. 77 See Isidoro Velasquez, La entrada que en el Reino de Portugal hizo la S.C.R.M. de Don Philippe […] (Lisbon: Manuel de Lyra, 1983), f. 122v, and Guerreiro, Das festas, pp. 42-43. The matter is also discussed by Edouard, L’Empire imaginaire de Philippe II, p. 217 and by Laura Fernández-González, ‘Negotiating Terms: King Philip I of Portugal and the Ceremonial Entry of 1581 into Lisbon’, in F. Checa Cremades and Laura Fernández-González (eds), Festival Culture in the World of the Spanish Habsburgs (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015), pp. 87-114. 78 [Giovanni Cervoni], Descrizione […] entrata…D. Fernando de’Medici […] nella città di Pisa (Florence: Giorgio Marescotti, 1588), pp. 33-36. 79 Laval, Desseins, ff. 344v-45r. 80 Mathurin Regnier, Le discours et signification, p. 492.

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developed his analogy between the city and the world, likening the order of the former and of its ruler to that of a king in a triumphant chariot accompanied by his senators, and to the most powerful of all the planets — the Sun — supported by councillors of great worth (Mars, Mercury and Venus) who rise in the heavens offering recognition and homage to the Sun’s superior nature. As these three celestial signs descend to complete their cycle, they encounter those who understand their movement and who are dreadfully disturbed at the sight of a State, formed in the semblance of celestial order, that has become so disturbed and dismembered [‘dressée à la semblance de la celeste estre ainsi perturbée et desmembrée’].81 The sentiments seem hardly appropriate to the reception of a King. The parallel Sun/monarch had been made more fitting in 1571 when, at the Porte aux Peintres, Charles IX had seen his father — Henri II — wearing his imperial crown and standing between two straight pillars on the top of the arch. Below each column was pictured an emblem. On the right, an elephant representing the reverence due to Religion; on the left, ‘un grand Oeil en forme de Soleil’ [a large Eye in the form of a radiant sun]. Bouquet’s text explains this disembodied emblem as standing for Justice, it is the eye of God who — night and day — inspires the monarch.82 Most often, the Sun is seen performing its regular duties, brightening the world after rain and darkness. The process is transferred in entries to the sun/prince’s capacities to dispel the gloom of rebellion and war. Thus, the Duc d’Anjou is shown as the disperser of the clouds of tyranny (Antwerp and Ghent, 1582), and the Duc d’Epernon at Caen (1588) becomes the Sun able to remove misery from the province of Normandy. Louis XIII at Arles (1622) is depicted as both Perseus and the Sun, and his victories are replayed so that ‘Rebellion n’a plus de force’. In the latter role, as a Sun, ‘Le roy est un Soleil’; he has travelled far and wide in his realm, just as the sun crosses the earth, controlling diverse conditions — warming some and cooling others, he enthuses his loyal subjects with glowing benevolence and crushes others [Protestants] into cold silence.83 The enduring political point was made in the Archbishop’s harangue to the King which closed the proceedings at Avignon (1622): Sire, le soleil levant dissipe les tenebres de la nuit, et par l’aggreable lumiere de ses rayons donne le jour au monde: et l’orient de Vostre Majesté a desfaict et dissipé le chaos de la rebellion infidèle à Dieu et à vostre sceptre, et par ses justes et victorieuses armes va donnant aujourd’hui la France à la France.84 [Sire, the rising sun dispels the shadows of the night, and by the pleasing light of its rays gives the day to the world: and the eastern rays of your Majesty has undone and dispelled that chaos of heretical rebellion against God and against your sceptre, and by their just and victorious arms today give France back to France]. The presence of the Sun, dissipating the ills of rebellion and war, reminds those who look on of what they had suffered, and warms them into anticipation of a better life.

81 Brief Discours sur la bonne et ioyeuse reception faicte à sa Majesté par ses tres-fidelles et obeissans subjects de la ville de Rouen (Paris: P. Courant, 1588), sigs. Aijr-Aijv. 82 Yates, Entrée de Charles IX, sig. F.ij. 83 [Pierre Saxi] Entrée de Louis XIII […] Arles, p. 26. 84 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 285.

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Figure 6.6. Device of King Philip II.

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The Sun as a symbol of power had appeared in an unusual record penned by a medical doctor, Nicolas de Nancel, where he preserved details of the Duc d’Anjou’s entry into Tours in late August 1576, organised to celebrate the Duke’s new ownership of the province in which Tours was the capital. The first display which he encountered was an immense canvas painted as the heavens on which figured two large planets — François Ier and Henri II. Below two small planets (the Duke’s brothers — François II and Charles IX) were visible. Then came into sight a huge Sun, in fine gold, emerging from the sea and mounting up through the heavens. It represented the Prince himself and was a foretaste of his political ambitions. Thus, the Valois dynasty blazed forth, as planets shining in the heavens, belonging to another orbit from the rest of humanity. Straightway, the doctor recalled other architectural features: the many arches dedicated to familiar themes — to Religion and Justice, to Fortune and Virtue; an artificial garden; and finally, the word Eternité inscribed on the face of the cathedral. As Nancel drew his description to a close, he attached an addendum reflecting on the images he had evoked, praising the imagination, ingenuity and application of his fellow citizens who had made their meaning clear ‘sans qu’ils eussent besoin d’autres interpretes’ [without need for further interpretation]. However, he did pause on one symbol, specifically attributed to the Duke and which he thought remarkable: a large Sun with golden hair radiating out with the words Il dissipe et rechauffe [it dissipates and warms]. This symbol can be interpreted in three ways, he argued. (i) The Duke reigns over the inhabitants of Touraine as the sun commands the stars. (ii) When clouds threaten with terrible omens, the Sun brings back light again. (iii) The Sun, eye of the world and master of light, dissipates ill humours and drives away unhealthy vapours, it warms the seeds of the earth so that they come to life and begin to grow. After these encouraging thoughts, the doctor’s tone suddenly, and unexpectedly, turned to admonition: Tu devrais imiter, ô prince, la nature bienveillante du soleil, dissipe tout ce qui est nocif, réchauffe le droit et la justice.85 [You ought to imitate, my prince, the beneficial nature of the sun, which dispels all that is harmful, and warms law and justice]. The frequency with which princes and their domains were paralleled in the metaphor of the Sun and its planets can be partly explained by the neat and obvious semblance between the two, and by the will to derive monarchical power from God. It was also at this time a subject for political discourse which employed the parallel to develop ideas on proper government for the people’s good. In arguing the case for obedience due to princes and for reintroducing peace in the land, an anonymous writer in 1590, for instance, wrote: C’est une loy qui fut publiée par tous les carrefours de la cité mondaine dès le commencement de sa fondation, Le Soleil au ciel fut fait Roy de tous les Astres, ils le reconnaissent pour leur prince, reçoivent de luy toute leur clarté, luy font honneur et comme dit quelqu’un,

85 Nicolas de Nancel, Les triomphes et Magnificences faictes à l’entrée de Mgr Filz de France, et frere unicque du Roy, en sa ville de Tours, le 28e d’Aoust, 1576 (Tours: René Suffleau, 1576); citation p. 34.

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vont au devant de luy, le saluent […] le luy assistant de leur conseil comme ses officiers et assesseurs […]86 [It is a law published at every street corner of every city in the world from its beginnings, the Sun in the heavens was made King of all the Stars, recognizing it as their Prince, receiving from him all their light, and doing him honour (as someone said) by going in front, saluting him…assisting him with their counsel as his officers and assessors]. Here can be seen the smooth working of a well-regulated state where each one knows his place and fulfils his duty. In one final instance of this preoccupation with the qualities of the Sun and the performance of French kings at a time of war, the application of the image results in a conception for an entire entry [Lyon 1622] which depends for its structure on a thorough and coherent exploration of all the planet’s properties. The parallel, announced in the title of the work, Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, d’où quelques paralleles sont tirez avec le tres-chrestien Louis XIII, is expanded in a phrase addressed to the reader at the beginning of the account: Tous nos Portiques…n’ont eu autre objet dans l’intention de ceux qui ont conduit ceste pompe royalle, que de représenter par le Soleil au signe celeste, nostre Roy, lequel parcourant les villes de son Royaume, comme le Roy des planettes.87 [All our Porticos…have no other object according to the intentions of those responsible for this royal pomp than to represent, through the Sun in its celestial sign, our King, who has journeyed across the cities of his realm like the King of the Planets]. There follows an overview of the entire conception, briefly introducing the eleven designs for each architectural subject of which the focus was always some aspect relating to the power of the Sun and its application to the King. The general idea of the process of adaptation across arches and monuments can be summarized thus. The first arch represented Lyon as the city of the Sun and showed the palace of this planet as conceived by Ovid. Apollo/ Louis sits enthroned at the centre surrounded by planets/courtiers with emblems of the Phoenix rising from the flames, and the heliotrope gathering warmth and light from the sun. Above, in the vault, there is a bright blue sky. The second arch depicted Apollo in his chariot driving his four steeds around the Universe. Then the planet is seen on a Pyramid, where it is ‘la vraye image de la Sagesse’, placed beside the Lion, itself a symbol of Force. The French Apollo dominated the arch of the King’s Victories: before him, a multitude of people exposed to its rays, enjoy the vision of Apollo and Victory together, the sun being the very portrait of Fame [‘le vray portrait de la Renommée’]. Then came the Temple of Apollo, situated at the centre of the bridge spanning the river Saône, where a lyre played forth the piety of the King from whose music the harmonies in France derive. On the 86 De l’obeissance deue au Prince. Pour faire cesser les armes et restablir la Paix en ce Royaume (Caen: Jacques le Bas, 1590), pp. 14-20; cited by Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, p. 450. 87 Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, p. 4. The arches are described on the following pages: no 1, pp. 4-9; no 2, pp. 27-28; the Pyramid, p. 72; the King’s victories, pp. 75-81; the Temple of Apollo, pp. 83-89; and the arch dedicated to La Justice, pp. 105-12.

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Place des Changes was erected an arch dedicated to Justice where a huge painting depicted Apollo emerging from a great source of light and, at his side, Aurora [Queen Anne] about to leave the heavens. The manifold variations on the theme of the Sun are striking. Their relevance to the return of order after difficult passages and the defeat of the forces of evil and irreligion, are pertinent to the needs of the citizens of Lyon (and elsewhere) as their councillors, in multiple harangues delivered before the monarch, spell out their joy, their relief and their amazement at receiving the most invincible of heroes. Coherence and Confusion: Addiction to Symbols In France, coherently conceived entry structures had become the norm since the Jesuit, André Valladier had designed an entry (Avignon, 1600) where an overall theme was patiently carried through, each monument being created to provide a logical progression from one symbolic image to the next with their meaning spelt out in a summary planted at the beginning of a vast tome. By contrast, in Spain, commentators like Juan de Mal Lara, Iuan López de Hoyos or Alphonso Guerreiro published extended descriptions of their kings’ royal entries, yet failed to project an overall conception of each event, so preoccupied were they with elucidating the meaning of each image. Even Pierre Matthieu who had tried to give an unambiguous shape to the many signs of victory he had accumulated at Lyon (1595), and those narrators of the many entries of Emperor Charles V and his son into towns in Italy, Germany and the Low Countries displayed similar attempts at coherence, yet their ambitious organisers could not resist the temptation of furnishing multiple symbols to be admired and explained. Profusion meant richness and artistic opportunities, and even confusion. In the Low Countries, citizens relied on the contributions of the Nations to devise and pay for triumphal arches. Florentines, Genoese, English, Portuguese and Spanish merchants took pride in showing off on these occasions the qualities and achievements of their respective lands. They vied with each other to display and impress, employing local artists to give form to their ambitions in magnificent structures decorated with bold performances and vaulting desires. Such diversity was absent from those entries where a single figure was responsible for the design; then, Valladier’s example was followed, not only at Lyon (1622) (as has been demonstrated), but again at Avignon in November of the same year when the Society of Jesus was once more in charge and where the title of Louis XIII’s entry La Voye de laict ou le chemin des Heros au palais de la Gloire provides a very good idea of what to expect.88 Annibal Gelliot, explained the Jesuit Fathers’ plan in some detail. The Milky Way, otherwise called the Galaxy, was the sanctuary of France, and the road leading to it was the path of those heroes and divinities who seek out Glory. Their model is, of course, Louis XIII whose steps are like those of a giant striding the ground. He was born to bring happiness to France, to establish Glory in the heavens and bring French nobility back to its former renown, by performing great and glorious actions. Through their manipulation of images and symbols, Jesuits assaulted the imagination, roused the minds of spectators to agree with and applaud their representations and to absorb their

88 Gelliot, La voye de laict, p. 4; Louis XIII as model, p. 41.

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meaning. Ralph De Koninck has shown how images at this time, in the hands of a Jesuit polemicist like Louis Richeome (1544–1625), became a tool of persuasion and a focus of argument. Richeome praised the Doric arch so often encountered in Louis XIII’s entries as entirely appropriate to matters of war, victory and triumph, and he encouraged his fellows to multiply those symbols which would display victories won for the Catholic Faith as a source of belief which would challenge the views of Protestants whose imagination was perverted by false idolatry — ‘vrais hieroglyphes des hérétiques’.89 It is evident that concern for the power of images had not diminished in the seventeenth century. The texts of princely entries had really become emblem books, often on a grand scale, where many motifs were orchestrated and interwoven with skill and infinite care. Where printed images were missing from the text, as they frequently were in accounts of Italian (except for Florence) and many Spanish entries; authors made up for this by extended commentaries on the sources and on the meaning of the symbols they employed so freely. Where images were present, they did not always reflect the complexity of the symbolism devised by the planners. Symbols represented concretely aspects of power and achievement. Yet they were essentially abstract signs which only came alive when the prince confronted and animated them or if a narrator could reveal their mystery. Symbols worked on the imagination, allowing it to conjure up force, victory and defeat. By evoking war, violence and its consequences and offering evidence of Peace and Virtue, they allowed the recipient to fear, to hope and to take on counsel. Mythologies and hieroglyphs point to both triumph and disaster. Yet, the facts of history are often buried in a plethora of erudite allusion and even confusion.

89 Ralph De Koninck, ‘L’imagination idolâtre et l’idolâtrie fantasmée. La guerre des images entre L. Richeome et J. Bausilion’, in Nativel, Henri IV, pp. 67-75; see also the article of Frédéric Cousinié, ‘L’idole intérieure au tournant du siècle: entre théologie, philosophie et théorie de l’art’, in the same volume, pp. 77-90.

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Chapter VII

How to Express the Extraordinary: The Art of Hyperbole

That great collector of pamphlets, anecdotes, satirical diatribes and ‘Drolleries de la Ligue’, Pierre de L’Estoile, stuffed his Journal with talk while disingenuously claiming that ‘la maladie du siècle […] est la passion et la médisance’ [the disease of these times is passion and calumny].1 Words in abundance, uncontrolled, uttered with heat and vehemence and often not telling the truth, characterized the language of his times and these are found in excess in his own records. Excess and questionable truths also marked the written records of princely entries in the Renaissance. Most of the authors and devisers of civic pageantry were intelligent men, often well versed in affairs, and fully aware of the immense difficulties within which they pursued their careers — just as the populace who viewed and cheered the spectacles must always have been aware of the horrors which constantly threatened their lives. Yet they all wished for better things and looked to the kings, princes and dignitaries who visited their towns to give them the peace and security they so ardently desired. This was the raison d’être of the hopes and bizarre assumptions of confidence which filled the civic entries and which must be read as a direct response to the ever-threatening uncertainties of political and religious strife. The artistic elaboration and lavish praise which must seem so unrealistic to us were, in fact, a direct counterpoise to the violence within which virtually all of it was conceived. Resplendence: A Necessary Condition If we turn to these texts, the inflated style of presentation is immediately apparent. The increasing size of records published in large quarto or folio volumes, their frontispiece adorned with classical arches and peopled with heroes from the past or with symbols representing the virtues of the Prince who has been celebrated, signal their ambition. Their very titles announced extraordinary events. The record of Emperor Charles V’s entry into Florence (1536), for instance, indicates what to expect: La gloriosa et triomphale Entrata. In Siena (1536), the view from the palace is described as ‘bellissima perspettiva’ — a characterization repeated again and again in entries across European cities.2 For his part, Calvete de Estrella, showed no modesty in his claims concerning the nature of Prince Philip’s journey across Europe (1548–1549) asserting at the beginning of his account: ‘that 1 Pierre de L’Estoile, Mémoires-Journaux, vol. I, p. 50. For a recent study of L’Estoile’s collecting habits and their relevance to the Wars of Religion, see Tom Hamilton, Pierre de L’Estoile and his World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). 2 Ordine, pompe, apparati […] Carlo Quinto, p. 29.

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journey can justifiably be acknowledged as one of the happiest and the most glorious that has even been recorded in the whole universe’.3 Each entry is similarly lauded and the account of Prince Philip into Milan (1549) may be taken as typical. The decoration was of a richness unequalled; and the bridge built across the walls of the city to enhance the grandiose effect of the procession became ‘un passage que nul autre prince n’a foulé’ [a road along which no other prince has ever trod]. Overall, the festivities were so regally sumptuous and magnificent that this city, alone in all Italy, had never experienced its like.4 In Paris later this same year (1549), Henri II encountered scenes described as ‘éblouissantes […] d’une merveilleuse grace’, while it was universally agreed that the entry of Vincenzo Gonzaga into Florence in 1584 was the richest and most magnificent ever seen.5 Writers recognized the temptation to inflate their style, but it was a necessary condition if they were to communicate satisfactorily the intended nature of these magnificent representations. Ronsard, for instance, in the introduction to his Odes (1550) — a parallel form of celebration — emphasized that it was his duty to extol to the limits the person he had undertaken to praise: C’est le vrai but d’un poëte Liriq de celebrer jusques à l’extremité celui qu’il entreprend de loüer.6 His art was a divine gift designed to raise men upon high.7 Resplendence was the quality that belonged to princes and, as Alfonso Caurivole observed, in his description of Cardinal Morosoni’s entry into Brescia (1591), spectators expected, indeed required, the most extravagant grandeur and majesty — qualities which could not be achieved through mere words.8 For this reason, narrators often lulled their readers into different expectations. They prefaced their exuberant accounts with protestations about simplicity of speaking and telling only the truth, aware that giving the impression of accurate reporting might make the recipient believe in the splendour and marvel at the astounding scenes they were about to describe. Thus Domenico Mariotti, in reporting events in Rome (1571), claimed that he told a truthful story writing down only the facts of what happened and in their sequence: ‘Ma attendendoci semplicemente à la verità, vi scriveremo à punto il fatto come è passato’.9 In like fashion, Domenico Mellini (Florence 1566) had promised to tell the whole truth, which he then qualified: he would relate the truth like Plutarch, or at least

3 ‘Ce voyage qui passera à juste titre, pour un des événements les plus heureux et les plus glorieux qu’avaient enregistrés les fastes de l’Univers’, Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage: Prologue, vol. I, p. viii. 4 Ibid., pp. 56, 58 and 88. The Governor of Milan, Ferrante Gonzaga, was determined to promote the glory of Milan and its territories; for a study of the duke’s strategies, Francesca Bortoletti, ‘The Triumphal Entry of Prince Philip’, in McGowan and Shewring, Charles V, Prince Philip and the Politics of Succession (Turnhout: Brepols, [in press]). 5 The Entry of Henri II, sig. bij, and Descrizione delle pompe e delle feste fatta nelle venuta […] Don Vincenzo Gonzaga […] per la seren. D. Leonora de Medici (Florence: Bartolommeo Sermartelli, 1584), p. 3: ‘essendo stante à judicio universale piu riche, e le piu magnifiche, che sorse, gia é buon tempo, sieno state fatte in questa città’. 6 Ronsard, Oeuvres, vol. I, p. 997, ‘Au Lecteur’. 7 Ibid., A son Lut, vol. I, pp. 962-65, ode xxx, ll. 89-92: ‘C’est un celeste present / Transmis ça bas où nous sommes, / De terrestre faix exent / Pour lever en haut les hommes’. 8 ‘per rappresentare à riguardanti con maggior grandezza, e maestà: il che con semplici parole non si farebbe’, [Alfonso Caurivole], Il sontuoso apparato, p. 10. 9 Baldassare Tassolo and Domenico Mariotti, I trionfi […] entrata […] signor Marcantonio Colonna (Viterbo: [n. pub.], 1571), not paginated.

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‘un ombro di quello’ [a shadow of it].10 Pierre Matthieu (Lyon 1595) protested that his style was ‘simple et cru’ and his description truthful, and Valladier voiced similar sentiments undertaking to reveal shortcomings when they occurred. The story of the Ghent entry (1582) was told simply and frankly, its author maintained, with no other ornament but the truth, a statement which was to be repeated almost word for word by Pierre Saxi as he recounted Louis XIII’s reception into Arles (1622).11 With the needs of his reader in mind, Calvete de Estrella promised not to litter his text with technical terms, eschewing the opportunity to provide information on the five triumphal arches at Ghent (1549) which were masterpieces of classical design. He affirmed that he had no wish to lard his style with architectural language which would not only be beyond his readers’ understanding but also render his text obscure and distanced from the unvarnished speech required.12 Through such assurances, authors showed that they wanted to be believed; yet they knew that many of their texts displayed splendours that never were. Valladier (1600) was particularly eloquent in his criticism of those who extolled such emptiness. In explaining how the vault of an arch (which was to have depicted an artificial labyrinth) was incomplete, he refused to describe in detail what had been intended since, he declared, he would not be party to that habit of parading before the reader chimeras and imaginary magnificences [‘ne faire parade de chimères et magnificences imaginaires qui ne furent iamais’].13 Such determination did not, however, remove his qualms about what a reader might or might not believe. Princely entries were exceptional in their concentrated splendour and in the ways employed by the narrators of the events to put their readers in touch with the excitement experienced on the day. Who would believe those who had witnessed extraordinary shows, Valladier argued, when they told of what they had seen? As likely as not, they would be interpreted as tales of magic or romance, stories told by Melusine. In the years to come, he mused, on reading my text, who would believe half of what I have seen? [‘et ne sçay si la postérité le lirant [mon texte] croyra la moitié de ce que nous avons veu?’].14 The reactions of strangers were cited to bear witness to the truth. Foreign visitors were reported as ‘surprised into admiration’ at what they saw (Paris 1549); they marvelled at the splendour of the décor and at the wondrous artifice of the noble structures (Milan 1549); and faced with the marvels depicted on the Theatre of Force and Piety at Avignon (1622), the images were so startling that visitors’ minds were immediately arrested, their gaze glued to the spectacle.15 The narrator of Louis XIII’s entry into Arles (1622) expressed initial trepidation at the idea of

10 ‘et sia del fatto tutto vero ritratto, ô seron altro, come Plutarco diceva, un “ombra di quello”’, Domenico Mellini, Descrizione della entrata della seren. Regina Giovanni d’Austria, p. 4. 11 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, sig. 3; Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 162; L’Entrée magnifique de monseigneur François fils de France […] faicte en Le [la] ville de Gand le 20e aoust, 1582, p. 3; and Pierre Saxi, Entrée: Au Lecteur. ‘Le titre n’est point spécieux ny enflé, le discours est naïf, simple, et n’a autre ornement que la vérité’ [To the Reader. The title is neither specious nor inflated, the writing is simple, straightforward and has no other ornament but the Truth]. 12 ‘pour ne point hérisser mon style de termes architectureaux étrangers à la pluspart des lecteurs et propres seulement à obscurer le discours’, Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. II, p. 65. This is in stark contrast to the care which French authors of royal entries (Paris 1549 and 1571) took to insert all the new terms of architecture gleaned from translations of Vitruvius and the works of Sebastiano Serlio which they used to re-create classical forms on their triumphal monuments. 13 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 152. 14 Ibid., p. 67. 15 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 214.

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fulfilling the King’s command to report the event: ‘Votre commandement, ô grand Roy, qui peut faire oser l’impossible’ [your command, Great King, which invites an attempt at the impossible]. Expressing the impossible, that was the challenge. As he thought about his task, his fears quietened and he dared to proceed: ‘chasse ma crainte et m’en donne l’audace’.16 Difficulties were, however, never far from his mind. Would he fall into the trap expressed by the recorder of La Voye de laict (Avignon, 1622) who, in addressing the King, noted that any attempt to capture the praise due to the monarch’s royal qualities would inevitably be interpreted as flattery? Trying to achieve the impossible could result in being unable to describe or refusing to do so. Would it not be best to leave the vision to the imagination, as André Félibien (1619–1695) argued when he came to present the portrait of the King [Louis XIV] in all its splendour? He reasoned that one might say many things which could enhance the impact of the image, adding new graces and ornaments which the painter had not thought of. After envisaging all these possibilities, Félibien then refrained from detailing the viewer’s share, stating simply in his conclusion: ‘everyone knows what these ornaments are’.17 The portrait of the King stands alone, eloquent enough on its own. Images held the spectators’ gaze directly, words did not. For recorders of entries, the task was to determine a style appropriate to their goal of leaving a monument for posterity and of creating a worthy object of Remembrance. To achieve these aims, they had to re-invent the occasion, to produce a literary memorial.18 As Bochius explained at the beginning of his account of the Archdukes’ entry into Brussels (1599), it was his intention (in advance of their being carved in durable marble), to record in an imperishable monument the feelings, the material structures and the memory of all those elements which had contributed to the display. Nous avons decidé de vous offrir ces premises avec l’idée refléchie de conserver par un monument écrit impérissable les sentiments […] et ce pour que ne périsse, en même temps que les structures matérielles de la fête, le souvenir des biens qu’il nous ont donnés, du moins en attendant que soient realisés les trophées de marbre dus à nos vertus.19 [We have decided to offer you these beginnings with the well-considered idea of preserving these sentiments through an imperishable written record…and to ensure they do not perish, at the same time (record) the material structures of the festival, the memory of the good they have given us, at least until the marble trophies owed to our virtues come into being].

16 Discours sur les arcs triomphaux, sig. cj. 17 Cited in Louis Marin, Le Portrait du roi, pp. 257-58: ‘Après avoir parlé de ces figures qui accompagnent l’image de Vostre Majesté, il faut enfin que je parle de cette image, et bien que j’aie l’occasion de dire ici quantité de choses qui pourraient enrichir la peinture que je veux faire y donner des grâces et des ornements qui n’ont pu être représentés dans le tableau dont je fais la copie je n’entreprendrai pas néanmoins d’y toucher; chacun les connaît’; in André Félibien, Descriptions de divers ouvrages de peinture faits pour le roi (Paris: La veuve Sébastien Mabre-Cramoisy, 1671), pp. 101-02. 18 On the texts of entries created as memorials and monuments to posterity, see McGowan, ‘Apology, Justification and Monuments to Posterity’ in Bolduc, Le Texte, pp. 57-82, and Christian Biet, ‘Les Monstres aux pieds d’Hercule’, XVIIe siècle, 212 (2001), 283-403. 19 J. Bochius, Historia narratio profectionis et inaugurationis […] (Antwerp: J. Moretum, 1602), preface.

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The task required a process of transformation whereby the spectacle of a procession through the streets was turned into a static text, but one which would re-create the sense of participating in a moving event. The official account which Mathurin Regnier prepared for Paris (1610) was designed to leave traces of the immense labours that had gone into putting on an outstanding show at great expense to the people of the capital. Antoine de Laval had gone further in his notes on Moulins (1595) claiming that the lines which gave afterlife to Victory would survive longer than the achievement itself. He ensured the lasting nature of Henri IV’s fame by incorporating it into a vision of Memory, through which the praise would endure.20 The particular status and profession of the authors of these texts naturally coloured their approach. The historiographer Pierre Matthieu, insisted that his text was historical and had nothing to do with Architecture — [‘histoire non architecture’] — a remarkable claim when major parts of his work were devoted to visualising potent images of the King’s performances and of the scenes of destruction which accompanied them. With an historical and propagandist vision firmly in his mind, he included in his text genealogies of the Bourbon and Medici dynasties together with the entire harangue pronounced by the Archbishop who naturally did not stint his praise of a King (inspired by God) who was responsible for the extraordinary return of peace and harmony to the State: Dieu par sa prudence a tousjours faict naistre quelque moyen extraordinaire et miraculeuse pour la restauration de cest Estat.21 [God, in his prudence, has always created some extraordinary and miraculous means to restore this state]. The Archbishop’s exalted tone recalled that of many such speeches, like that delivered before the future Charles V at Bruges (1515): Sire, tu es plain de magnificence, de puissance et de gloire…tu es le Roy par dessus tous aultres.22 [Sire, you abound in magnificence, power and glory…you are the King placed above all others]. The inflated style matches that of the introductory harangue pronounced before Queen Anne d’Autriche at La Rochelle (1632) where she is characterized as ‘une adoration’. Professional experience ensured linguistic control. Simon Bouquet (Paris 1571) was a city official as well as being a poet and humanist. The poet, Maurice Scève (Lyon 1548) was careful to shape a monument which captured the antique flavour which had dominated his creation. The humanist, Cornelius Grapheus was meticulous in the detailed record he provided for Antwerp (1549). And Vincenzo Borghini (1566) not only gave voice to the

20 Antoine de Laval, Desseins, p. 342. 21 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, p. 93. 22 La triumphante et solemnelle entrée faicte sur le nouvel et joyeux advenement de tres hault, tres puissant, et tres excellent prince monsieur Charles prince des Hespaignes […] en sa ville de Bruges, lan mil.v cens et xv. Le xviiie jour dapril (Paris: Gilles de Gourmont, 1515), sig. Eiv. See facsimile edition of the print from the manuscript in the Library in Vienna (cod. 2581) edited by Sydney Anglo (Amsterdam: Theatrum orbis Terrarum, 1970).

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significance of poets in building lasting memorials to the city of Florence, he also used his learning to erect complex, erudite structures which could astonish and challenge the interpretation of his peers. Recorders sought to stress artistic ingenuity by pointing out technical feats such as the figure of Charles V as Majesty at Tournai (1549) whose gaze and gestures moved according to the angle of vision of the onlooker.23 Or they claimed approval for the perfection of what had been made following the example of masters from the past, as could be seen in the arch created in front of the Halle des Doyens (Tournai 1549) which was ‘composé par art ingénieulx de la noble science d’architecture et artificiellement par proportion et mesure compassée selon que Vitruve en donne témoignaige’24 [composed through the ingenious art of the noble science of architecture artificially proportioned and controlled according to the rules found in Vitruvius]. As Yves Pauwels has argued, the very forms planners used to welcome a prince were themselves manifestations of the sublime: ‘L’arc de triomphe est aux architectes le lieu par excellence de la manifestation du sublime’.25 Pierre de Ronsard and Jean Dorat (Paris 1571) sought to give primacy to poetry deploying the newly acquired technical language relating to architecture to impress as well as to compete with artists on their own ground.26 Internationally celebrated artists, too, were keen to show their inventiveness and display those skills which might capture the qualities of surprise and exaltation required: Leonardo da Vinci with his machine/lion (Milan 1507); Giulio Romano and his renewal of classical forms (Mantua 1530 and Milan 1541); Frans Floris responding to the need to display the horrors of war (Antwerp 1549); or Peter Paul Rubens who made his ideas speak through novel structures, with brilliant colours and energy written into the paint (Antwerp 1635). The endeavour of reaching up to express the Extraordinary was facilitated by the rhetorical sources which had dominated the schooling of composers of entries. Cicero, in Book III of the De oratore, had declared; ‘the greatest glory of eloquence is to exaggerate a subject by embellishment’. This served, he argued, both the needs of panegyric and of satire; as regards the former, this meant amplifying and extolling anything in a speech to an extraordinary degree. Such amplification produced the greatest effect, and Cicero illustrated his view with many examples from the speeches of orators he had known or had read about.27 For his part, Quintilian gave instructions as to how to bring right before one’s eye the image of an action. He demonstrated with this example. If he wished to arouse his audience, an orator should not simply name a town under siege he should relate its prosperous past, display the now burning temples and houses, and project the greed of the soldier. Such amplification, he explained, belonged to the art of hyperbole which he defined as a ‘startling beauty’, as an outlandish exaggeration which goes beyond the truth. He recommended this art since, although he recognized that it told lies, it did not seek to mislead. On the contrary, he wrote,

23 De la Grange, ‘Les entrées des souverains à Tournai’, p. 126. 24 Ibid., p. 129. 25 [The triumphal arch is to architects the supreme location of the manifestation of the sublime], Yves Pauwels, ‘Propagande architecturale et rhétorique du sublime. Serlio et les joyeuses entrées de 1549’, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 137 (mai-juin, 2001), 221-36 (p. 229). 26 As Stephen Murphy demonstrates, ‘the glorifying or immortalizing power of poetry [is] a striking constant in European literature’, The Gift of Immortality: Myths of Power and Humanist Poetics (London: Associated University Presses, 1997), pp. 14-15. 27 Cicero on Oratory and Orators, J. S. Watson (ed.), Bohn Classical Library (London: Bell and Daldy, 1871), vol. III, xxvi, p. 362.

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when that about which we speak is really extraordinary, and since our powers of expression cannot match its quality, it is better to say more about it than less [‘il vaut mieux en dire plus que moins’].28 The necessity of praise was further supported by a long tradition of laudando praecipium, advocated in contemporary writings on the arts of kingship, and abundantly evident not only in princely entries but also in court entertainments where Ben Jonson’s masques, for instance, used panegyrical exhortation in order to expose the king’s virtues.29 Believing the Hyperbole The issue then was to find ways of making the audience believe what you write. Although narrators were not as explicit as the author of the account of Louis XIV’s entry into Paris (1660) was to be: ‘cet ouvrage est dédié à l’immortalité’ [this work is dedicated to immortality], thus arousing expectations which acknowledged that his role was to provide homage worthy of royal authority. Narrators were conscious that a special style was necessary.30 Louis Richeome, the Jesuit who was acknowledged a master of writing in the sublime style (christened ‘bouche d’or de France’ by Valladier),31 noted that the language of the Court harmonized well with festivity since the Court identified itself with spectacle, being a place where the imagination could indulge all its excesses [‘l’hypertrophie de l’imagination qui la (the court) caractérise’]. This rhetoric of amplification played a dual role in the civic and political affairs of the time. In the Dutch Republic, it contributed to a process of reconciliation where heightened language served as a binding force for the social orders;32 in European courts, it became a mode of counsel through the cloak of praise. In this context, how could one portray the Prince so that his image reflected the impossible standards which would make him an ideal ruler? How to move from the particular and human to the general and ideal? How to display the horrors of war so that they touched the imagination? How to involve the viewer in the visual theatre displayed on the

28 Quintilian, edition used: L’Institution de l’orateur (Paris: Gregoire Dupuis, 1718), book VIII, ch. II, pp. 557-59. It is worth quoting Quintilian’s text in full: ‘Doubtless, if one says that the city has been taken one implies everything which such a fate entails; but, like a brief announcement, this penetrates the emotion less. If instead you open up the things which were included in a single phrase, there will appear flames pouring through the houses and temples, the crash of roofs falling and the sound made up of the cries of many individuals, some hesitating as they flee, others clinging to their loved ones in a last embrace, the wailing of women and children and old men lamenting that fate has preserved them for such a terrible destiny. Then there will be the plunder of sacred and profane property and people running to and fro carrying booty and prisoners each driven in front of his captor, and a mother trying to keep hold of her child, and fighting among the victors wherever the booty is greatest’ (Book VIII, Ch. III), cited by Ruth Webb, Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), p. 73. Many authors referred back to the advice of these ancient rhetoricians; the most succinct was Le Gras, La rhétorique française (Paris: Le Pas de Secheval, 1671): ‘L’hyperbole, pourvu qu’elle ne soit pas excessive est la figure la plus convenable à la louange’, cited in Marin, Le Portrait du roi, p. 113. 29 See the analysis of Jonson’s masques by E. W. Talbert, ‘The Interpretation of Jonson’s Courtly Spectacles’, Publications of the Modern Language Association, 61 (1946), 456-73. 30 Bolduc, La Fête imprimée, p. 225; for pertinent remarks on the language required to translate the magnificence of a royal entry for those who had not been present, pp. 242-47. 31 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 111. 32 See M. Spies, Rhetoric, Rhetoricians and Poets: Studies in Renaissance Poetry and Poetics (Amsterdam: University Press, 1999), especially pp. 57-68, ‘Rhetoric and Civic Harmony in the Dutch Republic of the late Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries’.

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arches?33 Since the subject was immense, ‘l’immensité du suiet’, Valladier declared, ‘about which the more one says, the more one leaves to be said’, praise was inevitable and hyperbole the natural style.34 The issue was to be succinctly stated by Guez de Balzac (1597–1654) in (1631): La function royale se trouve d’emblée totalement absorbée dans l’exemple qu’il incarne. Louis XIII n’est pas seulement un prince vertueux, il appartient à une sphere d’idéalité que les critères ordinaires d’interprétation des actions humaines ne peuvent restituer.35 [The royal function finds itself straight away completely absorbed into the example it embodies. Louis XIII is not only a virtuous prince, he belongs to a sphere of idealism for which the ordinary criteria of interpretation of human actions cannot apply]. In this regard, the king belongs to another world, he is something more than human, and there lies the difficulties for artist and writer who seek to portray him. Writers were very conscious of problems associated with a style that quickly led to flattery, and the Jesuit planners of entries were particularly articulate about its dangers. In 1622 (Avignon), the recorder openly raised the issue in an observation addressed to Louis XIII: ‘car qui voudroit tailler vostre loz à la mesme de vos royales vertus, encourroit sans doubte devant les esprits foibles l’opinion de flatteur’ [he who would sculpt your praise equal to the measure of your virtues, inevitably runs the danger in the minds of the weak of being thought a mere flatterer].36 In 1600, Valladier had been anxious about overstating the marvels of Henri IV, ‘better not say enough than to exaggerate’ [plutost ne rien dire assez, que de dire trop des merveilles du roi].37 Historians would continue to grapple with the problem in the second half of the seventeenth century when Pellisson-Fontanier (1624–1693), for example, pondered how to write about the king: Il faut louer le Roi partout mais pour ainsi dire sans louange, par un récit de tout ce qu’on lui a vu faire, dire et penser, qui paroisse désintéressé, mais qui soit vif, piquant et soutenu, évitant dans les expressions tout ce qui tourne vers le panégyrique. Pour en être mieux cru, il ne s’agit pas de lui donner là des épithètes et les éloges qu’il mérite, il faut les arracher de la bouche du lecteur par les choses mêmes. [The King must be applauded everywhere but, so to say, without praise, through an account of what he has been seen to do, to say and to think, in a disinterested manner but one which is lively, piquant and sustained, avoiding all those expressions which tend towards panegyric. To be the better believed, it is not a question of attributing to him those epithets and praises which he merits; you must drag out

33 For a study on how the elements on festival architecture which blurred the boundaries between animation and inanimate matter, and where sculptors gave life to stone, were designed to stupefy the viewer with admiration and wonder, see Caroline van Eck, ‘Animation and Petrifaction in Rubens Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi’, in Knaap and Putnam, Art, Music and Spectacle, pp. 143-65. 34 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, sig. 1; ‘l’Immensité du suiect, duquel plus on en dit, plus on en laisse à dire’. 35 Guez de Balzac, Le Prince (Paris: Pierre Rocolet, 1631), cited in Christian Jouhaud, ‘Politique et religion au 17e siècle: note sur le passage de l’exemplaire’, in Laurence Giavarini (ed.), Construire l’exemplarité. Pratiques littéraires et discours historiques (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles) (Dijon: Editions de l’Université de Dijon, 2008), pp. 51-62. 36 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 7. 37 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, sig. A4, ‘Rather do not say enough than say too much about the wonders of the King’. This preface provides an extended discourse on the ills associated with flattery.

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such expressions from the mouth of the reader by [your presentation of] his very acts].38 In this way, the observer is invited to re-create the portrait, to use his imagination and, as he gazes on the King’s visage, to employ a conscious process of visualisation to tease out the full import of the monarch’s greatness. A favourite tactic for presenting actions to an audience was, as we have seen, to compare the modern hero to past performers from history or legend. Thus, the Medici prince is a modern Hercules; the Emperor Charles and his son a new Caesar or Charlemagne; and Henri IV, ‘ce grand Alexandre François’, as Pierre Matthieu opens his text on Lyon (1595) by charging the reader to guard his book as though it were a lucky medal. For this historian, Henri IV was better than Caesar or Alexander whose valour and glory were mere shadows compared to his achievements.39 By the early seventeenth century, the comparative advantage of the living prince was explained in some detail by the author of the account that celebrated the Prince de Condé who had come to Dijon (1632) to take up his governorship of the province of Burgundy. In a commentary designed to extol both Louis XIII and Condé, the author declared that Alexander and Caesar were always victorious because of the vast troops at their command, while the King and the Prince had triumphed with only half the resources available to the armies of their adversaries. Modern military genius was also superior since Alexander and Caesar’s motives for waging war were violently ambitious. In contrast, the success of the French commanders derived from their love of justice and respect for God who inspired their whole enterprise.40 As Christian Biet has observed, the skill in persuading an audience that such comparisons were sound was to introduce slight variations to the inherited image. Thus, in his evocation of Henri IV in the midst of battle, Valladier (Avignon 1600) focused on the King’s white scarf, reminiscent of the plumes of Alexander the Great, and drew attention to his helmet surmounted by luminescent white feathers which he presents before our eyes as gradually changing into a silvery galaxy that seems to radiate through his whole person such that the mighty forces of his adversary immediately take flight.41 In order to arouse an audience and to engage their emotions so that spectators might appreciate fully the great deeds performed by princes, then it was necessary — Mathurin Regnier argued (Paris 1610) - to conceive of a person way above human capacity: On ne le peult à la vérité assez dignement toucher ny comprendre sans imaginer quelque chose au dessus de l’homme.42 [In truth, one can neither adequately conceive nor understand (the greatness of princes) without imagining something above human capacity]

38 See Christian Jouhaud, Les Pouvoirs de la littérature. Histoire d’un paradoxe (Paris: Gallimard, 2000), p. 152; and also, Marin, Le Portrait du roi, pp. 47-105 where he analyses this passage in detail. 39 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, p. 26. 40 For this discourse on the relative merits of past and present military commanders, see Entrée de treshaut et très puissant prince Henri de Bourbon, prince de Condé, p. 60. 41 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 66. For the significance of the white scarf and its use in military and princely display, see Turrel, Le Blanc de France, also Biet, ‘Les monstres aux pieds d’Hercule’, passim. 42 Mathurin Regnier, Le discours, p. 497; see analysis by McGowan, ‘Apology’, pp. 92-103.

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Regnier may have been remembering the words of Montaigne who, in Des plus excellents hommes, assessing the accomplishments of Alexander the Great wrote: Vous ne pouvez imaginer sa durée légitime et la continuation de son accroissance en vertu et en fortune…que vous n’imaginez quelque chose au dessus de l’homme.43 [You could not imagine its legitimate durability and the continuing growth in virtue and fortune…without imagining something way above human kind]. These words point to a continuing preoccupation with the problem of presenting the extraordinary. Violence could be visualised by the piling up of words, through a string of metaphors, or by the sight of mutilated forms. Magnificence could be achieved through the multiplication of images on a single structure such as Frans Floris achieved (Antwerp 1549) and to which Calvete de Estrella devoted many pages of description.44 Simple accumulation of words, when misapplied, could surprise the reader as in this depiction of that young, vicious and weak French King, Charles IX: Le bon Charles neufiesme, la parfaite Idée des Roys très chrestiens, le père des sciences, la terreur des heresies, le modelle de la vraie noblesse45 [The good king Charles the ninth, the perfect Idea of Christian Kings, the terror of heresies, the model of true nobility]. Only a Catholic, blinded by dedication to his Faith and overcome by hopeful aspiration, could paint such a portrait. The most effective tool, universally accepted, was Ekphrasis, that rhetorical device which gave descriptions colour and relief, movement and a sense of theatre. Ekphrasis appealed directly to the imagination and, in Richeome’s words, ‘pour mieux rendre imaginable l’immaginable et vraisemblable l’invraisemblable’ [to render the unimaginable imaginable, the incredible credible].46 Ekphrasis was applied both to visions of glory and to images of danger in order to arouse the imagination. Here is an example of such colourful and thought-provoking prose designed to make the reader feel the effort involved in capturing and influencing attention. The author of this extract from the text on the entry into Avignon (1622) is describing the ship of State in a sea of troubles: Cependant la tourmente croist animée de la rage des vents, les ondes font blanchir une escume bruyante, qui chocque les ailes et donne de rudes secousses à ce foible vaisseau pour le faire entr’ouvrir et y donner quant quant à un triste naufrage. L’espouvantable bruit et l’abboyement des vagues courronnées, cest air ensevely sous l’horreur des tenebres entremeslées d’esclairs, ces tonnerres qui cannonoient dedans, avec des dragons de mer qui s’élevant sur mer, pour

43 Michel de Montaigne, Essais (Paris: Gallimard, 1953), book II, 36, p. 843. 44 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. IV, pp. 33-108; for the arch painted by Floris, pp. 40-52. 45 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 23. 46 Cited by Marc Fumaroli, L’Age de l’éloquence. Rhétorique et ‘res literaria’ de la Renaissance au seuil de l’époque classique (Geneva: Droz, 1980), pp. 217-46 where he shows (by way of contrast) that traditional memoirs tended to adopt a simple style.

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fonder sur la nef et l’engloutir dans les ondes, tout cela n’est-il pas suffisant de faire eschoüer le plus roide courage? Non pas le sien.47 [Meantime the tumult gains strength, animated by the wild winds, the waves turn the noisy foam white as it beats against the sails and drives hard blows against this frail vessel to slice it in half and lead it to a sad ruin. The dreadful noise and violence of the angry waves, this atmosphere buried beneath the horror of darkness mixed in with lightning, these thunder claps which charge against each other, with sea horses which rise above the surface of the water to fall onto the ship and drown it in the waves; is that not enough to make the sternest courage fail? Not his]. The power of the writing is such that we seem to be there in the midst of all the turmoil experiencing the buffeting of the winds, the noise of the waves, the pain of hail and lightning, and the sound of thunder. The consciously short phrase which ends the performance shocks by its brevity, and yet the deflation is very effective. This was the kind of language and rhythm which engaged the populace in the many pamphlets, dialogues and sermons wherein they could relish the violence of words and might succumb to the magical power of images which raised argument and situation from the particular to the universal, as Denis Crouzet demonstrated in his analysis of Saint Bartholomew night.48 Violent language was endemic as this same historian has made plain, exposing how the language of religious exchange at this time was imbued with hatred. Calvin’s sermons were filled with a vehemence intended to arm his disciples with furious courage to destroy and to relish the destruction. His enemies were labelled ‘ordure, puanteur, larrons, traîtres et canailles’ [filth, squalor, thieves, betrayers and rogues]. Speech became a sword of destruction, and reports of iconoclasm described a theatre of violence — itself a therapy.49 Poetry and Music When it came to persuading their audience of the veracity of their magnificent depictions, composers of entries also sought other ways. They had recourse to poetry and music which involved both the learned reader who would recognize and appreciate the quotations from poets of old, and the man of the street who could respond to the rhythms. Quand ie iette les yeux sur la divine face De mon Prince, ie dis: est-il possible ô cieux, Qu’il se trouve là-haut homme plus gracieux, Que celuy qui commande à la Françoise race.

47 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 91. 48 See Denis Crouzet, La nuit de la Saint Barthélemy, vol. II, p. 564. 49 Crouzet, Dieu en ses royaumes, pp. 153-91. On violence and pain as transformers into merit, see introduction to Decker and Kirkland-Ives, Death, Torture and the Broken Body, pp. 1-10. On the range and variety of vituperation in sixteenth-century French pamphlet literature and, in particular, its use in the propagation of religious unorthodoxies, see Antonia Szatari, Less Rightly Said: Scandals and Readers in Sixteenth-Century France (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2010).

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Non, ce n’est point un homme; il n’a que la surface D’un corps mortel; cet oeil courtois, ambitieux Fin, simple, doux, haggard, aspre, delicieux Marque d’un grand Dieu caché soubs ceste vive glace.50 [When I look upon the divine visage of my prince, I say: is it possible (oh heavens) that there is one up there who is more gracious than he who rules the French race? No, it is not a man; only the surface denotes human form; this courteous eye, ambitious, wise, simple, sweet, haggard, bitter and delicious [by turns], is the mark of a great God hidden beneath this living ice]. These lines open an account of Louis XIII’s entry into Avignon (1622). It illustrates well the extra dimension verse gave to expressions of wonder where the King’s visage transforms itself into the features of a god, and whose eye, filled with multiple expressions, takes on a divine gaze. Pierre de Ronsard and Jean Dorat (Paris 1571) had been conscious of these advantages and, in the themes and lines borrowed from Ronsard’s forthcoming epic La Franciade (1572), and in the Greek verses modelled on good ancient practice by Dorat, they amplified the messages drawn by the artists on the arches, providing an extra ornament to compel attention and understanding. It was customary to cite ancient authors in princely entries, often as part of an inscription. Their quotations gave status to ideas, and they were used as proofs of arguments concerning splendour and achievement, or of the warnings of the dangers of war and defeat. They were recognizable points of reference. Pre-eminent among these ancient poets was Virgil. His Eclogue IV was frequently cited, with its ecstatic prophecy of a new Golden Age blended with aspirations of Empire, and book I of the Aeneid which conveniently invoked a god/prince in the making. Lines from his poems, set below images of splendour, gave added authority to what was depicted, and they appeared not only in his native city of Mantua (1549) but also in all the cities visited by Prince Philip across Northern Italy. His words became part of the demonstration as did the verses of distinguished modern poets. Some writers recorded in verse their impressions of an entire entry as did Francesco de Arce in his celebration of the Fiestas Reales in Lisbon (1619).51 We have seen how Vincenzo Borghini cited Petrarch and Dante, Lorenzo the Magnificent and Poliziano to sustain his notions about the celebrity of Florence as a fount of the arts (Florence 1566). From his Libretto (a manuscript notebook with drawings), we know how carefully he had prepared the work, reading entry accounts from all over Europe, consulting compendia of mythology (notably Natalis Comes, Giraldi and Cartari), citing Catullus, Virgil and Theocritus to add substance to the display.52 For similar purposes Petrarch (as a one-time resident in Avignon), alongside Ronsard, appeared in Valladier’s text in 1600, supported by Saluste Du Bartas who had written about the virtues of a certain ‘Enthousiasme poétique’, and whose verse here (as in Lyon 1595) was used as proof of the Herculean origins of the Bourbon dynasty. In that traditional contest between Arms and

50 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 2. 51 Francesco de Arce, Fiestas Reales en Lisbon. Desde que el Rey nuestro señor entró [1619], Duque y marques opusculos eterarias rarisimus, IX (Valencia: [n. pub.], 1956). 52 See Richard Scorza, ‘Vincenzo Borghini and Inventione: The Florentine apparato of 1565’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 44 (1981), 57-75, where he cites from the Libretto.

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Letters, poetry was often claimed to be superior, because of its persuasive force and dignity, having the effect of heightening the atmosphere of celebration, and adding to the pomp and circumstance.53 At Ghent (1577), Rhetoric and Peace spoke their advice in verse while above these allegorical figures poems written on scrolls were placed. As a climax to the entry, long stanzas were cited by Community, and the monument erected to do honour to William of Orange, carried a long poem of explanation.54 At Avignon (1600), gods parading before Marie de Médicis anticipated her arrival before each triumphal arch and explained in verse the symbolism depicted thereon. Odes were hung in profusion from the Temple of Janus, and the long Epithalamium provided an overblown yet perhaps fitting celebratory hymn to the whole extravagant enterprise. As accounts of entries became longer and more ambitious, so the urge to display erudition deepened as though learned reference could somehow match the symbolic magnificence represented on the arches. To cite but two examples: Bochius (Antwerp 1594) and Valladier (Avignon 1600) multiplied the testimony of poets and of commentaries upon them to such an extent that their determination to make sure that their incredible knowledge was appreciated almost chokes the reader’s progress through the text. Valladier compiled his inscriptions from Homer, Pindar and Aeschylus, from Euripides, Virgil, Theocritus, Tibullus, Ovid and Horace, from Statius and Juvenal. He cites the Hieroglyphica of Valeriano, the work of Hyginus and of Martial who, Valladier considered, had succeeded ‘in drawing together the terror and horror of war in tones so sweet that they matched the display and glory of victory with the clemency and virtue of Henri IV’.55 At Antwerp (1594), Bochius justified his pronouncements by reference to a galaxy of classical sources: Plato and Aristotle; Cicero, Caesar, Thucidides and Livy; Pliny, Aelian and Pythagoras; and, above all, Virgil. While Spanish humanists relied heavily on such writers in addition to contemporary works unfolding the secrets of hieroglyphs, and on the evidence of coins and other Roman remains. Without such aids the meaning of many symbols would have remained obscure. Rarely was an entry performed without music, although many accounts and records of payments by civic authorities restrict themselves to the fact that the Te Deum was sung in the cathedral followed by the Psalm Exaudiat, or to praise of the trumpeters and drummers, as at Antwerp (1635).56 At Angoulême in 1526, Queen Eléonore was received by an assembly of maidens disguised as all the nations of the world. They sang motets, and rondeaux in Latin and French in praise of the royal visitor, each performance lasting a quarter of an hour. They were accompanied by a large orchestral ensemble: trumpets, oboes, sackbuts, and violins with the entire delegation of citizens (in their best attire) bowing in tune to the rhythmic harmonies. In this way, the entire company participated 53 See Loris Petris, La plume et la tribune: Michel de L’Hospital et ses discours (1559-62) (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 117-82. 54 Entry of William of Orange into Ghent (1577), pp. 34-37 of original text: Lucas D. Heere, Beschrynerghe van bet gbene […] ter incompte van d’Excellentie des princes van Oraengien binna der Stade van Ghendt (Ghent: the widow of Pieter de Clerck, 1577); introduction and translation by Werner Waterschoot, in Mulryne, Watanabe O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. I, pp. 472-91. 55 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 136. 56 See Knaap and Putnam, Art, Music and Spectacle, article by Louis P. Grijp, ‘Music Performed in the Triumphal Entry of the Card. Infante Ferdinand into Antwerp, 1635’, pp. 95-111.

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in the praise.57 Ann Boleyn’s coronation entry into London (1533) was one of the most musical of English entries, choirs of angels and virgins, the pageant of Apollo accompanied by great melody were used to promote civic harmony and to transmit an impression of widespread enthusiasm and rejoicing.58 In Spain, musical displays brought together performers from triumphal wagons and the accompanying crowds who all danced and sang together. For Philip II’s entry with his new Queen Elizabeth of France into Toledo in 1560, the entire corpus of the cathedral choir with their instruments accompanied the cars, performed songs of praise and welcome, and played for the immense variety of morescos and dances. On the first wagon, they sang ‘villancicos’ and performed a ‘danza de folias’. On the second a Cupid danced, played and sang. The occupants of the third car sang and danced the figures of a ‘danza de indios’, while the last triumph depicted military music and war dances.59 Such dances also marked the entry celebrations into Madrid (1560) where a councillor was ordered to arrange that six different dances be created and demonstrated in advance to members of the city council, in order to confirm their suitability for such an august occasion. Later in the capital Madrid (1599), for Philip III who was well known for his dancing skills, the number of choreographic designs was increased to nineteen. They were ‘to be very brilliant, as the occasion requires’, stated the formal contract.60 At Metz (1603), Henri IV was greeted at the first gate by choral and instrumental music. In London (1606), the King of Denmark heard songs of choirs, of Muses and of sea nymphs and tritons. These punctuated the proceedings to honour the royal visitor and to declaim the power of Britain. These musical entertainments were primarily devised to involve the crowd. The principal performers were often Orpheus or Apollo (supported by a large choir). To the sound of instruments, they sang of peace anticipating a more tranquil existence and, at the same time, reflecting those heavenly harmonies which represented concord in the State. The climax of every musical display was to engage the crowd who, enthusiastically, joined in ‘Vive le Roy’ to the extent that, at Lyon (1595), they drowned the sound of the music and delayed the court’s progress through the city: Le peuple qui se fondoit de joye à la veüe de sa Maiesté poussa d’une voix esclatante et si haute son Vive le Roy que l’harmonie de la musique ne fust plus entendue, et de trois choeurs s’en fit un de cinq mille personnes pressées en une mesme place.61 [The crowd which had collapsed with joy at the sight of his majesty let forth a shout so loud and piercing with its ‘Long live the King’ that the musical harmonies

57 John Grand-Carteret, L’Histoire, La vie, les moeurs et la curiosité (Paris: Libraire de la Curiosité et des Beaux Arts, 1927), vol. I, p. 226. 58 Discussed in Anglo, Spectacle, Pageantry, pp. 258-61. 59 S. Horozco y Covarrubias, Relación y memoria de la entrada en esta ciudad de Toledo, pp. 68-80, and Alvar Gomez de Castro, Recibimiento que la imperial ciudad de Toledo hizo a la Majesdad de la reina nuestra Señora Doña Isabel, hija del rey Henrico II de Francia, cuando avenemente entró en ella a celebrar la fiestas de sus felicissimas bodas con el rey Don Phelipe nuestro señor (Toledo: Iuan de Ayala, 1561), ff. 15-20v. 60 For information concerning the significance of choreographic performances in entries into Madrid, based on archival sources, consult David Sánchez Cano, ‘Dances for the Royal Festivities in Madrid in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, Dance Research, 23 (2) (2005), 132-52. 61 Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée, p. 36.

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could no longer be heard; three choirs became one with the five thousand voices all pressed together in one place]. One can understand that, in this mood, the populace was ready to admire, accept and participate fully. Monsieur Sauvaire Intermet (1573–1657), canon and master of music at St Agricola, had charge of all the music at Avignon (1600) where musical performances were extensive and integrated into the entry. A triumphal car, drawn by elephants and filled with musicians (singers and instrumentalists) followed the Queen around as she moved from one arch to another. The musical exchanges were often complex with performers on the chariot engaging in dialogue with other musicians inhabiting, for example, the Temple of Janus. The most moving performance which brought tears to the eyes of Marie de Médicis was that of two nymphs perched on the second arch singing an ‘Adieu à Florence’ [‘Nous en vismes la Royne mouiller les yeux’].62 Spirits soon rose again as the famous work by Jannequin — La Guerre — was played by eleven violins at the third arch. Incorporation of music into the entry schedule gave variety by changing the perspective of seeing (in this essentially visual mode) to hearing, encouraging those who watched to join in. A musical presence was essential in Spanish entries where the participation of the crowd was an integral part of the entry. In Toledo (1560), Seville (1570) and Madrid (1570), the citizens surrounded the performers on triumphal wagons, keen to demonstrate their own musical and choreographic skills. The most telling impact of music-making for these events came at Avignon (1622) when the conductor’s stick was (according to the account) turned into a magical instrument which the composer, Monsieur Sauvaire Intermet, wielded as though it were ‘la verge de Mercure’ [the rod of Mercury] to control the one hundred musicians under his command. Inflamed by the presence of their King, they sang from the depths of their soul: Tantost il [la voix] s’enfonçoit, tantost il la rappeloit du creux de leurs poitrines; ils montoient au mouvement de sa baguette, ils baissoient, ils sentoient, ils perçoient, ils se plantoient parfois comme une fusée jusqu’à terre, puis remontoient par bricolles, contours et vives voltes en l’air, et frappoient d’une douce atteinte les esprits espris d’une si douce varieté de sons.63 [Sometimes [the voice] deepened, then it came from the pit of their stomachs; they raised their tone responding to the movement of his wand; they lowered it, felt it, pierced it through, and sometimes lowered it again like a firebrand shooting down to earth; then they raised it up by degrees, then by sweeps and charges into the air, striking with a sweet blow the souls [who listened], overcome by the gentle variety of sounds]. The evocation continued, spelling out the quality of each sound before turning to isolate the musical display of ‘un maistre joueur de violon’ or that of the oboist, so that Mercury’s rod became ‘une verge de Circé qui faisoit tous ces miracles’ [Circe’s wand which performed

62 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 107. For a detailed analysis of the music for this entry, see Alexander Robinson, ‘Music and Politics in the Entry of Maria de’ Medici into Avignon (19 November, 1600)’, in Rudolf Rasch (ed.) Music and Power in the Baroque Era (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), pp. 179-202. 63 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, pp. 222-25. A part book with music by Sauvaire Intermet has recently been found in the Newberry Library (Chicago), MSS 5123.

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all these miracles]. Given the enthusiasm recorded here, it is hardly surprising that the music scores were torn from the hands of the musicians at the end of the performance: Les airs, que M. Intermet avait composéz, ravirent tellement le Roy et toute la Cour, que toutes les parties furent tirées des mains des musicians et S.M. en voulut une coppie, et oüir encore le lendemain.64 [The airs which M. Intermet had composed so ravished the King and the entire Court, that all the partitions were torn from the musicians’ hands and His Majesty wanted a copy so that he might hear it again the next day]. Such polyphonic performances were closely linked to the political agenda which sought to rouse citizens to revel in the joys of victory, thus weaning them away from thoughts of opposition and strife. Spectators were, of course, crucial in determining a successful impact, and they appeared physically on the engravings which accompanied official accounts of entries — especially on those printed in the Netherlands and on those recorded in Portugal where writers were much influenced by publications from Antwerp. Philip III’s entry into Lisbon (1619) provides typical examples; beneath the arch built by Italian merchants, spectators gaze upwards [Fig. 7.1.]. The arch was decorated to excess. Spectators gazed in amazement at four emperors perched on the summit, and at the wolf of Rome nourishing Romulus and Remus below with the Pope’s mitre prominently displayed. The scenes underneath depicted Majesty reigning in Africa, Hercules triumphing over Cerberus, and the Vices on whose right could be seen the Sun’s rays warming the land. Triumph and power could hardly be more extravagant.65 On the next arch erected by the painters, nothing was spared to promote the marvels of their art as spectators appeared absorbed by the incredible skill in display. The engraving shows them admiring a masterpiece in the making, a portrait at the top of the structure, and below — in the act of being painted — the work supported on either side by Geometry and Perspective. The inscription points out the qualities of the creation and makes the plea for patronage [Fig. 7.2.].66 At the end of the sixteenth century, in France in particular, the use of quantities of words, notable for their violence, went way beyond the need to perform or to persuade.67 A collective attitude to language was, as Montaigne diagnosed, a symptom of times out of joint: L’ecrivaillerie semble estre quelque simptome d’un siècle desbordé. Quand escrivismes nous tant depuis que nous sommes en trouble?68 [Compulsive writing seems to be a symptom of times out of joint. How is it that we scribble so much since we have been in trouble?]

64 Ibid., p. 293. 65 Lavanha, Viaje de la Católica Real Magestad del Rey Don Felipe III, ff. 32r-6v. 66 Ibid., ff. 37r-v. 67 See Crouzet, La Nuit de la Saint Barthélemy, vol. II, p. 264. 68 Montaigne, (De la Vanité, III, 9, 923). For an analysis of the complex nature of babble at this time, see Butterworth, The Unbridled Tongue, especially her chapters on Ronsard (pp. 101-26), and on Montaigne (pp. 127-47).

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Figure 7.1. Arch of the Italian merchants (1619).

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Figure 7.2. Arch of the Painters (1619).

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Just as pamphlets, answering one another, seemed to put civil distress on the stage, the same theatricality belonged to entries. As Marc Fumaroli wisely observed: ‘L’éloquence populaire n’a aucun rapport avec le vrai. Que veut-elle? Remuer la foule’ [Eloquence for the people has nothing to do with truth. What is its aim? To move the crowd].69 The People wanted both uplifting and destructive drama, while the court revelled in exaggerated images of achievement and loss. The extraordinary was in these ways fundamental to these representations of power. Planners of entries, however, continued to be anxious lest their images might reach too far, and Valladier’s plea to the Queen at the end of her entry (Avignon 1600) is a reminder of the conscious, almost artificial writing that abounds in these texts as their authors strove to say the un-expressible and to get spectators to imagine the unimaginable. His anxiety that his text might seem too inflated is expressed through the figure of Icarus falling down from the Heavens — a metaphor that aptly sums up the difficulties involved in the art of hyperbole: Mais si i’osois entreprendre un si haut vol, que d’y vouloir atteindre de veue seulement, ie ne ferois que comme un présomptueux Icare noyé dans les eaux de son precipice et dans les abysmes de sa temerité.70 [But, if I were to try such a high leap, simply wishing to achieve only a glimpse [of that greatness], I would merely be a presumptuous Icarus drowned in the waters of his own downfall and in the abyss of his temerity].

69 Fumaroli, L’Age de l’éloquence, p. 681. 70 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, p. 216.

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The Realities of Performance

Authenticity of Records How authentic are the records of entries in presenting what actually happened on the day a prince entered his city in triumph? At first glance, texts seem to represent eye-witness accounts of the proceedings, especially when they are supported by evidence from municipal registers of the deliberations of the Council, and of the accounts of payments made to the artists;1 when authors claimed to tell the truth or to express fears of providing inadequate reports (Arles 1622); or when they criticized the imaginative narrations of others as Alard did in his opening remarks to his description of Louis XIII’s entry into Toulouse (1621): Mon dessein ni mon ambition n’est de faire en la description de l’entrée du Roy en sa ville de Tolose, ce que fait la pluspart de ceux qui escrivent sur de semblables matieres, qui desguisent, changent et augmentent tellement les premieres inventions qu’à peine leur laissent-ils le nom qu’on leur a donné, et au lieu d’estaler une veritable image de l’appareil de ces pompes, exposent aux yeux du monde des chasteaux de Diane et des arcs d’Apollidon.2 [It is neither my intention nor my ambition to offer in the description of the King’s entry into Toulouse what others do who write on similar matters, who so disguise, change and elaborate the initial ideas that they hardly deserve the name given to them and, instead of presenting a true image of the decorations for these shows, display to the eyes of the world castles of Diana or triumphal arches for Apollidon]. The necessity of employing an art of hyperbole to capture the extravagances of artistic display, and the recognition by writers like Alard of the frequency with which descriptions of entries were often more like fictional stories belonging to worlds of make-believe, have made scholars increasingly doubt the veracity of these records.3 Indeed, assessments of the quality of the art works on the arches, described in the record, tended to be couched



1 Archival documents are found for François Ier’s entries into Provence (1516–1517); for Henri II’s entries into Lyon (1548) and Paris (1549); for Charles IX’s entry into the capital (1571); for Christine de Lorraine’s entry into Florence (1589); for the entries under Henri IV (Lyon 1595 and Paris 1610), and for Louis XIII’s entry into the capital (1628). Also pertinent are the municipal documents cited in Graham and McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour, and in the nineteenth-century reprints by regional bibliographical societies which are referred to specifically as they relate to entries studied in this book. 2 This Epilogue develops some of the claims analysed in Chapter VII. Alard, Entrée du Roy à Tolose (Toulouse: Raim Colomiés, 1622), pp. 1-2, cited and discussed in Wagner, Vaillancourt and Méchoulan, ‘L’entrée dans Toulouse ou la ville théâtralisée’, XVII siècle, no. 201 (1998), 613-32; citation, p. 616. 3 See, for instance, Wagner, Vaillancourt and Méchoulan, ‘L’Entrée dans Toulouse’; Christian Biet, ‘Les monstres aux pieds d’Hercule’; McGowan, ‘The Status of the Text’, in Bolduc and Visentin (eds), French Ceremonial Entries, pp. 29-54; and McGowan, ‘Les stratégies politiques dans la fabrication de l’image du roi. Entrées royales en 1595 (Lyon), 1600 (Avignon), 1610 (Paris)’, in Nativel (ed.), Henri IV, pp. 179-86.

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in precisely the hyperbolic terms condemned by Alard. Aesthetic judgements usually lacked the rather neutral appreciation of the picture at La Rochelle (1632) which had depicted the coming back to life of its citizens. Here, the narrator stands well back from the powerful portrayal of the painful process of resurrection commending the realism of the artist’s skill in this way: The foregoing is a summary of this picture for which the painter’s design had been executed so perfectly with regard to the horizon and other points and lines of perspective that, when one was the right distance away from it, one would have doggedly claimed that they were real and living objects rather than portraiture.4 To reinforce his points about verisimilitude, the writer refers to the painter — Guillaume le Cureau (c. 1595–1648), whose work was applauded by fellow artists themselves.5 Other reporters of entries could not match the measured tones of approbation supplied at the end of this account. There, the author explained how he had recorded as accurately as possible the events at La Rochelle, noting the quality of the design master-minded by Monsieur de Villemontée, whose vigilance on behalf of the Cardinal de Richelieu (who had borne the entire cost of the entry) had created a performance worthy of Her Majesty.6 The fact that Richelieu paid all the expenses in 1632 was very unusual. Cities were often given permission by the monarch to sell property in order to finance the show as Philip II did for his entry into Toledo (1560). Such permissions had their downside as they were frequently accompanied by interference from the crown, instructing city counsellors how the monarch should be received.7 In Spain and in the Netherlands, in addition to meeting some of the expenses required by the ambitious scale of the monuments deemed worthy of their Prince, city councils relied on the financial resources of resident merchants who seized the opportunity to promote their own nation, and the results of their generosity did not always blend into the overall theme of the entry (Antwerp 1549, and Lisbon 1619). Some planners of entries were concerned about expertise and, in addition to consulting their own archives, they had recourse to records from other places. At Valenciennes (1600) they sought help from Johannes Bochius, secretary of the city of Antwerp, who sent ‘un riche volume contenant le récit de l’entrée des Altesses dans les différentes villes des Provinces’ [a rich volume containing accounts of the entries their Highnesses had made in different cities in the Provinces]. In addition, Guillaume de Vos came from Antwerp with a group of painters to carry out all the necessary art works.8 Other writers even doubted the ability of artists residing in small towns to do justice to a prince. Antoine de Laval, recalling the example of Alexander the Great who had only permitted Apelles and Lysippius to record

4 Translation taken from the La Rochelle text, Mulryne, Watanabe O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 118-234; citation, p. 215. 5 Ibid., p. 215; the text continues: ‘so much so that those who were masters of this art could not believe that the painter Le Cureau had worked on it for such a short period of time’. 6 Ibid., p. 231. 7 See Ruiz, A King Travels, pp. 98, 107-09. For political reasons, merchants refused to participate in Antwerp (1582) when the appointment as Governor of the Duc d’Anjou went against their trade interests, see Emily Peters, ‘Printing Ritual’, 376. 8 Louise, La Joyeuse Entrée, pp. xv, 18.

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his head, deplored the mountain of drawings made for entries by those painters whom he called ‘old hacks’. They were unworthy of recording the visage of the Alexander of his own times — ‘nostre grand Henry’. He maintained, ‘petites villes’, should be banned from allowing triumphal arches to be decorated: Il ne doive pas être permis aux petites villes de ce Royaume de contre imiter le grand monde de Paris […] pour tracer les moindres lignes des Arcs trionfans, dues à la reception de grande et Auguste Majesté.9 [Tiny towns in the kingdom should not be permitted to imitate the great world of Paris… or to trace the least line on triumphal arches intended for the reception of great and august Majesty]. Laval was, perhaps, thinking of his own ambitious plans for Moulins which could not be accommodated by local artisans. Occasionally planners took an easy way out and reproduced designs that had been used before. Such were the arches erected for the triumphal entries into Nuremberg of Maximilian II in 1570, and of Emperor Matthias in 1612 which were virtually identical to those which had been created for Charles V in 1541. The inscriptions used for the entry of Louis XIII into Troyes in 1629 were the same as those devised for Henri IV in 1595, just as for Edward VI’s entry into London in 1547, where the characters depicted and the verses they delivered were distilled from the complex entry devised to greet the child King, Henry VI, in 1432 — over one hundred years earlier.10 By contrast, other writers had great confidence in the skills of designers whom they regarded as capable of representing even the most ambitious topics. According to Jean-Baptiste Machaud, artists could diminish the size of an image and yet still make it realistic. In this way, he argued, entire battles could be recalled authentically through the depiction of an infinite number of figures, arranged in groups and faithfully recorded, so that what one saw was what had been truly enacted. Such art, he maintained, did the public great service since spectators could, at their leisure, enjoy so much displayed through such tiny means. Through the hand of God, small seeds grow into large, stout trees in Nature, he observed, and likewise simple strokes of the pen or brush can produce the same effect upon the imagination.11 How was this confidence translated into other texts? There are many obstacles to discovering what actually happened, partly because multiple records are partial or do not agree on the facts, and partly because they are incomplete. Some writers cut short their descriptions either through a desire to be brief, as one anonymous recorder of Charles V’s entry into Rome (1536) declared: ‘la fattione et pittura del quale per brevità passeremo con silentio’, [for reasons of brevity, I pass over in silence details of its [the arch’s] invention 9 Laval, Desseins, f. 383 v. 10 See Peter H. Wilson, The Holy Roman Empire, p. 271. The inscriptions on the Porte du Belfroy, pp. 80-82, La joyeuse entrée du Roy en sa ville de Troyes; for Edward VI, see Anglo, Spectacle, Pageantry, pp. 283-85. 11 Machaud, Eloges, p. 196: ‘Aussi est-ce la merveille des Esprits, de faire voir les grandeurs raccourcies, et les hauteurs abaissées sans les forcer, et en peu de lieu trouver place à beaucoup de desseins. C’est l’Excellence non seulement des peintres, de montrer en peu d’espace des batailles entieres, et une infinité de figures en groupes: Mais de tous ceux generalement qui travaillent pour le public, et qui servent aux yeux et aux desirs d’une communauté, de beaucoup faire en peu de chose. C’est faire gagner aux spectateurs sur leur temps, sur leur loisir, et sur leur veüe, et imiter le Grand Autheur de la Nature, qui met dans les petits grains de semence, la force et la hauteur des arbres les plus élevez’.

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Figure 8.1. Triumphal car (1600), engraved Matthaeus Greutner.

and images];12 or through lack of time, as in the same city (1560) when the writer could only summarize the procession that accompanied the Duke of Florence;13 or at Ferrara (1598) where, although the apparati were ‘molti bellissimi’, the witness refused to describe them ‘che hora non le scrivo non havendo tempo’,14 [I’ll not describe them now as I have no time]. There was silence too, through commendable hesitancy, as is evident from the words of a Gentleman writing to his friend concerning the King of Denmark’s entry into London (1606): ‘The showes at Theobalds which I omitted amply to describe, because my conjecture may erre from the drift of the inventor’.15 The recipient of news could be disappointed for other reasons, as when Landolfo Verità informed his correspondent that he had no intention of describing the décor on the arches, nor the perspectives and processions, nor the sounds of music that accompanied the entry of Don Ferrante Gonzaga

12 On multiple voices in festival records, Johan Oosterman, ‘Scattered Voices: Authors and Other Reporters of the Wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York’, in Gosman, M., A. Macdonald and Vanderjagt (eds), Princes and Princely Culture 1450–1650, 2 vols (Leiden: Brill, 2005), II, pp. 241-47. La felice Entrata […] della Imperatore. Ordine, pompe, apparati […], p. 49. 13 La solenne entrata […] il Sig. Duca di Firenze. Fatta in Roma […] nov.1560 (Bologna: Antonio Giaccarello e compagnie, 1560), sig. Aij: ‘Al mio Signore Padrone, osservandiss. Il sig. A. M. A Ferrara’. 14 Relatione della solenne entrata […] de 29 di Genaro 1598 […] Card. Aldobrando legato (Rome: gli Stampatori Camerali, 1598), 2 pp. 15 The King of Denmarkes welcome (London: Edward Allde, 1606), p. 14.

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into Milan (1546). He simply wanted to paint the great city — ‘il sito del gran Melano’.16 Yet another difficulty arises from an obsession which preoccupied many writers. They were intent on being recognized as having reproduced flawless classical forms appropriate to a triumph. As a consequence, the words ‘à l’antique’ [in the antique style] are scattered across their pages. At Rouen (1532), they accompanied every mention of a triumphant chariot. At Avignon (1600), Valladier claimed that his car filled with musicians was designed authentically ‘à l’antique’, yet the engraving shows a rather primitive cart [Fig. 8.1.]. This juxtaposition in the text of descriptions in words and of the image illustrating a design uncovers another difficulty. Many images inserted into accounts of entries could only approximate to the decorations which had been prepared because, at this period, woodcuts and engravings were relatively primitive in their technique — especially so in Spanish publications. Nonetheless, some writers considered that they were conveying a better idea of a design by furnishing illustrations in their text: for the Queen’s entry into Paris (1571), or for the present offered to Charles IX when Bouquet asserted: Le surplus des beautez artificielles qui y estoient se pourroit considerer par le pourtraict qui en est icy à peu près representé.17 [Fig. 8.2.] [The quantity of ingenious delights there upon can be judged by the image here represented, more or less]. It is noticeable that Bouquet’s confidence in the ability of the image to display every detail is qualified by ‘à peu près’. Other writers made no attempt to bind text and image together, since the majority of accounts relating to Spanish and Italian entries carried no illustrations. When images were included, in late sixteenth or early seventeenth-century French or Flemish texts, then they often became simply abstract notions of a triumphal arch delineating faithfully the contours of a familiar structure while leaving its niches, cornices and platforms blank, the burden of representation being transferred to explanations and inscriptions in the text, and to the imagination of the reader as is evident throughout the account of Louis XIII’s entry into Lyon (1622) [Fig. 8.3.].18 Occasionally, witnesses recorded their impressions in official correspondence or in their memoirs. Ambassadors reported regularly on the shows at Renaissance courts, or visitors set down their enjoyment of such pomp and ceremony. The protestant student Geiskofler expatiated on the excitement generated in Paris at the prospect of a union between Henri de Navarre and Marguerite de Valois (1572).19 Agrippa d’Aubigné reported in his Histoire how, in 1573, the uprights of the arches erected at Saint Martin for the entry of Henri d’Anjou, newly elected King of Poland, had been painted as if they were made of jasper, the artist having applied streaks of red paint to the structures. One of the visiting Polish ambassadors, Albert Laski, inquired of D’Aubigné: ‘had the desire been thus to paint the chaos of France?’ [‘me

16 Landolfo Verità, L’Entrata fatta in Melano […] del sig […] Don Fernando Gonzaga alli xix di Giugno 1546 (Milan: Antonio Borgio, 1546). 17 Simon Bouquet, L’Entrée, sig. O1v. 18 Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, engravings opposite pages 39, 72, 81, 93, 102, 112, 118, 126, and 134. 19 See my article, ‘Fêtes: Religious and Political Conflict Dramatized: the Role of Charles IX’, in Elizabeth Vinestock and David Foster (eds), Writers in Conflict in Sixteenth-Century France: Essays in honour of Malcolm Quainton (Durham: University Press, 2008), pp. 215-38.

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Figure 8.2. Present offered to King Charles IX (1571).

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Figure 8.3. Triumphal arch (1622).

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demanda si nous avions voulu peindre le chaos de la France’].20 Such a question reveals the real mental condition of people at this time. Despite the efforts of the planners to give magnificent displays of triumph in the French capital, the disorder of war was not only depicted in the victorious deeds on the arches but was ever present in the minds of those who witnessed the show. On the other hand, a hostile ambassador could report a deliberately false view of the proceedings. Simon Renard, for instance, representative of Emperor Charles V at the French Court, maintained he could not understand the meaning of the symbolic pictures at Rouen (1550), and had rubbished the Paris entry (1549) declaring that the disorder was such that it was not worth recording any other details beyond this fact. This is the only hostile report recorded for an event that had been universally praised by other members of the diplomatic community, which suggests that ulterior motives were at play. There were times when the exuberance and adulation of the crowd overflowed into the streets severely interfering with the progress of the Prince’s procession, as Calvete de Estrella recorded for Ghent (1549). Such effusions were natural, he remarked, and something to be understood by good princes for they are not only loved and respected by their subjects but should see themselves as ‘l’object de leur admiration et d’en être presque adorés comme les envoyés de Dieu’.21 Preparations for the Entry That the planning of entries was scrupulous and conscientious can be gleaned from municipal archives as well as from texts of entries. The Registres du Bureau de la Ville de Paris and other municipal archives in cities across Europe provide ample evidence of the close supervision that burghers maintained over the choice of poets and artists for the overall conception of the entry, over the proposed themes, their structures and their style, and the careful attention they paid to contracts before and after the event. The contracts often recorded observations on particular designs and on their modification when an artist’s projected works were considered inappropriate or too expensive since (frequently) the designer had to produce for inspection a wooden model of the structures he planned to erect.22 Municipal officers also recorded the monies they set aside for equipping their citizens superbly so that the entry occasion might be used to display the quality and pride of the city in their extensive processions while, at the same time, demonstrating their loyalty to their prince. For King James I’s entry into London (15 March 1603), for instance, preparations began nearly two years ahead, and the municipal archives record lists not only of the expenses for their provision, the length of time expended on the first arch ‘Londonium’, but also the number of carvers, joiners, turners and labourers employed under the direction of Stephen Harrison.23 At St Jean d’Angély (1620), the author of the 20 Agrippa d’Aubigné, Histoire universelle, Liv.VII, ch. I, p. 177. 21 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. II, p. 85. 22 Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la Ville de Paris, 1499–1614, F. Bonnardot et al (eds), 16 vols (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1883–1921); also scholarly interest demonstrated through local and regional societies where many obscure pamphlets from the archives, devoted to entries, have been published. 23 See Nichols, Progresses […] King James I, vol. I, pp. 325-76. For the costs involved in Elizabeth I’s peregrinations around her realm, Mary Hill Cole, The Portable Queen: Elizabeth I and the Politics of Ceremony. Massachusetts Studies in Early Modern Culture (Amherst, 1999).

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text of the King’s entry congratulated the Town Council on its satisfactory preparations.24 At Rome (1536), the planners had been able to take a long view since the impending visit of Emperor Charles V after his glorious victory at Tunis (1535) had been signalled well in advance so that the regional council was able to order the demolition of rows of houses in order that the triumphal route was opened up into a perspective which gave the Arch of Constantine the focal position, and so that monuments that had stood for centuries might be interlaced with modern equivalents — both designed to pay tribute to an imperial power.25 The deliberations of the twelve councillors elected to prepare the Queen’s entry into La Rochelle (1632) are especially interesting since it is clear that their first thoughts, which had soared into the stratosphere, had to be abandoned. At their preliminary meeting, they had explored a range of possibilities; but these came from such diverse sources that (as the text records) they ‘created an overwhelming and unmanageable collection’. Their ideas ranged from the depiction of angels, evocations of meteors and of the elements, ‘impossible projects beyond the material world’, and excursions into fiction and romance — their affection for novels being so profound that ‘they had become obsessed with Apollidon’.26 The actual entry took on a very different form. It was a re-enactment of the city’s destruction. Antoine de Laval’s equally fertile imagination presented many unfulfilled dreams, imaginary notions impossible of execution, as he himself acknowledged. As he thought about how to receive King Henri IV into Moulins (1595), he picked up his pencil and began to sketch out his plans. His crayon was not up to the ‘abondance des conceptions qui m’affluoient’27 [the abundance of ideas that flooded into my mind]. Moreover, he recognized that no artist would be capable of creating the structures he imagined. There was, for instance, the Obelisk of a size which neither the hand nor the skill of an artist could design.28 Laval’s difficulties were compounded by the uncertainty regarding the timing of the King’s arrival. The doubts were prolonged over many months (the whole of 1594), and then suddenly the King was announced with minimum time for preparation. Thus his ambitious plans had to be abandoned, reduced to a minimum: ‘Cela nous fait raccourcir nostre oeuvre au petit pied’. A year’s work collapsed into a few hours.29 Laval was not alone in his troubles. At Ghent in 1549, the inner surfaces of the Florentine arch had no columns, and Calvete de Estrella conjectured that shortage of time explained their absence.30 In the same city (1582), Lucas de Heere assured his readers that much more would have been done had the times been less troubled and less dominated by war and suffering.31 At Saint-Omer in 1549, town councillors were so preoccupied with opposition to Emperor Charles V’s plans to transfer his dominion over the Netherlands to his son 24 Entrée royale faite au roi en la ville de Sainct Jean d’Angely, p. 9. 25 The major preparations and demolitions required for the entry of Charles V into Rome (1536) have been studied in detail by Richard Cooper, ‘A New Sack of Rome? Making Space for Charles V in 1536’, in Mulryne, De Jonge, Martens and Morris, Architectures, pp. 27-52. For information on the time-honoured triumphal route in ancient Rome, see Diane Favro, ‘The Street Triumphant: the Urban Impact of Roman Triumphal Parades’, in Çelik, Favro and Ingersoll, Streets, pp. 151-64. 26 [La Rochelle], Relation, in Mulryne, Watanabe O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, p. 191. 27 Antoine de Laval, Desseins, f. 338v. 28 Ibid., f. 340v. 29 Ibid., f. 341v. 30 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. IV, p. 54. 31 Lucas de Heere, L’entrée magnifique de monseigneur François fils de France, p. 20.

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Philip that their discussion and eventual agreement to the handover prevented them from engaging in any serious planning to welcome the Prince.32 Even at Antwerp (1549) where the Prince had delayed his entry so that preparations might be perfected, these were interrupted by serious quarrels among the nations as to precedence in the procession, and it required orders from the Emperor for the matter to be settled.33 In Metz (1603), the uncertainty of the political situation between the French crown and the city had meant that the fountain was only partially decorated; and the pyramid — the pièce de résistance of the whole affair, and which was to have been covered with ‘une infinité d’Hyerogliphiques’ in praise of the King — fell apart through lack of time. Nonetheless, Fabert (author of the account) reproduced the design as though it had been perfectly preserved while acknowledging in the rubric that the monument had not been finished [see Plate IX].34 Writers readily acknowledged these shortcomings for, admitting the non-appearance of planned structures, provided them with the opportunity to describe what the spectators could not see. Valladier (Avignon 1600) indicated that some monuments were not satisfactory especially with regard to missing inscriptions which he was able to supply in his narrative. Most distressing from his point of view was what happened to the triumphal car transporting the musicians. When, at the Sixth Arch dedicated to Religion, Hercules called upon the choir to perform again Jannequin’s La Guerre to announce the dramatic beheadings of the Hydra, the chariot bearing the musicians could not be found. A deafening silence ensued. Damaged by the crowds to the extent that the elephants which drew the vehicle along had lost their shape [see Fig. 8.1] and had been transformed back into the horses they originally were, the triumphal chariot had irretrievably lost its way. In addition, the fireworks placed in the body of the Hydra went off too soon so that when Hercules came to cut off the many heads of the animal, it had been reduced to its stomach, and — to make matters worse — there were no trumpets to sound the empty victory. In addition, the elaborate Pyrrhic planned to be performed by six expert Italian soldiers could not take place as one of their number fell ill. The Temple of Janus — a high point of the entry since it was to have incorporated all the celebratory odes composed in honour of Marie de Médicis and Henri IV — was incomplete, due to ‘la brieveté du temps et l’arrivée inopinée de Sa Majesté’ [the lack of time and the unexpected arrival of her Majesty].35 Pierre Matthieu had suffered similar catastrophes. For Lyon (1595), he listed the elements of the entry which were not (in the end) created: the equestrian statue of the King was left

32 See edition of Charles Hirshauer, Les Etats d’Artois et la Joyeuse entrée de Philippe, prince d’Espagne à Saint-Omer en Arras (Saint Omer: Imprimerie H. D’Homont, 1908), and the brief mention of branches of ivy and shields decorating the streets by Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. II, pp. 134-38. 33 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. IV, p. 99. 34 Abraham Fabert, Voyage du Roy à Metz, p. 13 for the fountain, and p. 36 for the disappointment regarding the pyramid: ‘La Pyramide au surplus en toutes ses faces contenoit une infinité d’Hyerogliphiques à la louange du Roy, et de ses vertus héroïques. Mais d’autant que la pièce ne fut achevée, et affin d’éviter l’ostention pour chose qui ne fut veuë en ceste reception, il suffit d’avoir dict qu’elle fut commencée, et qu’achevée elle eust esté selon la taille qui en est icy representée’. 35 Valladier, Le Labyrinthe, pp. 170-71; for the Pyrrhic, p. 135 and the Temple of Janus, p. 145. The difficulties of making progress through cheering crowds continued beyond our period; for the entry of Charles II into London (29 May 1660), John Evelyn recorded that the passage through the City took seven hours; from two in the afternoon ‘til nine at night’, p. 406, The Diary of John Evelyn, ed. E. S. De Beer (London: Oxford University Press, 1959).

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half-finished; Apollo and the Python in their triumphal chariot were invisible; the battle between the two ships on the river never took place; and two whole arches were never built.36 Again in 1600, many projects were simply left on the drawing board without ever having been given concrete shape or form. Time constraints meant that the carpenters, despite working with commendable ardour and at speed, were unable to complete even the first elements of the great painting which had been conceived to celebrate the wedding of Hercules and Hebe [Henri IV and Marie de Médicis], where all the gods were to have participated. Taking the opportunity to describe what was never there (except in his initial ideas), Matthieu specifies all those who should have been present, their divine songs and dances, their feasts and dramas, before noting — with regret — that such a scene would have given so much pleasure and would have fed the understanding and curiosity of many, [‘on y eust trouvé en ce tableau du plaisir et l’entendement de la curiosité’]37 As he had already remarked in his account of the entry of Madame de la Guiche into Lyon two years before (1598), there is an enormous distance between what is and what ought to be made [‘il y a une grande distance entre ce qui s’est faict et ce qui se devoit faire’].38 Given the complexities of achieving what was planned, it was essential that some record of intention, of expense and display be attempted. For the sensibilities of noblemen and princes alike who, Jacques Auguste de Thou reminds us were ‘trop délicats pour que je puisse leur plaire en disant la verité’ [too sensitive for me to be able to please them by telling the truth], a performance equal to their aspirations had to be enacted, and the text became that channel of performance.39 Understanding such concerns, each narrator so fashioned his discourse to mirror exactly what had been intended. The truth of mishaps and unfinished art works were considered unfortunate (yet coincidental), only to be mentioned rarely, and chiefly in order to elicit belief in the splendours that were otherwise described and claimed to be accurately represented. Equally significant was the portrait painted of the citizens: their vigilance; their loyalty; their own magnificence, and the knightly qualities they — too — displayed on horseback. Harangues were frequent, repetitive and all performed to the same tune: the glory of the prince, the support of the citizens and their own virtues which required defence.40 Some writers appended a list naming those who took part in the procession (Caen and Rouen 1532). And others drew out particular performers for special mention (Antwerp 1549, 1594 and 1635; Ghent 1549 and 1582; and Florence 1566). Reactions of witnesses are rarely recorded beyond their visible presence on engraved recollections of the monuments erected for each event. A passing comment in letters or in a memoir sometimes highlights a particular moment. In most records, however, the presence of the people is a silent one, depicted on monuments or gazing upon them [Fig. 8.4.]. 36 Matthieu, L’Entrée [1595], p. 5. 37 Matthieu, L’Entrée […] à Lyon [1600], ff. 14-15v; f. 67v. 38 Matthieu, L’accueil de Madame de La Guiche à Lyon, 1598, ed. P. Allut (Lyon: [n. pub.], 1861), p. 5. 39 Letter from De Thou to George-Michel Lingelsheim, Pièces concernant l’Histoire de J. A. de Thou, p. 331; see also Willem Blockmans and Esther Douckers, ‘Self-representation of Court and City in Flanders and Brabant in the Fifthteenth and Sixteenth Centuries’, in Willem Pieter Blockmans and Antheum Jarse (eds), Showing Status: Representation of Social Positions in the Late Middle Ages (Turnhout: Brepols, 1999), pp. 81-113. 40 The texts of the harangues given at Lyon (1622), for example, filled many pages, Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, pp. 130-48.

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Figure 8.4. The Temple of Peace (1594), engraved Pieter van der Borcht.

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Figure 8.5. The Temple of Janus (1635), etched Theodore van Thulden.

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Exceptionally, chronicles survive for civic entertainments in Antwerp and Brussels, and these have been examined in detail by Margit Thofner who has shown how ceremonial reflected the concerns of ordinary people and their response to the constantly changing political landscape in which they lived. She discusses the chroniclers Jan de Pottre (1549–1601) and Van Haecht (active 1565) whose comments on the allegorical projects on monuments and triumphal cars were detailed and critical. De Pottre (a Catholic) approved the allegorical representations on the Ommegang in 1568, for instance, while Haecht could not stomach this projection of a political and religious order which was anathema to him. Ommegang had been banned by the Spanish from this date (1568), for they were considered a source of potential social unrest, and were only reinstated in 1582 when the city of Antwerp planned the Duc d’Anjou’s entry when these traditional wagons were the principal spectacles. The values and preoccupations of the urban community can also be seen in the two rhymed accounts in Dutch which were published in 1635 in addition to the learned account by Gaspar Gevaerts. All three evoked in different ways, the splendour and political concerns of Ferdinand’s entry into Antwerp (1635).41 What the spectator actually saw has also been examined by R. Malcolm Smuts who urges us to be cautious in assessing crowd reaction to the ceremonies. That spectators exerted their presence by their noise is obvious (they apparently sounded like an earthquake during Queen Mary’s Coronation entry); yet Smuts demonstrates that their vision and their movements were strictly controlled by the presence of guild members who formed a solid barrier between the procession and the crowd.42 However, in the Low Countries, the wishes of the common people were considered as well as those of artists, patrons and princes, as can be judged by the fact that editions of the formal account of the Duc d’Anjou’s entry into Antwerp (1582) were printed in French and Dutch (quarto editions without illustrations) at the same time as the luxury folio printing by Plantin. Their interest was also evident in the Temple of Janus created by Rubens in Antwerp (1635). This magnificent structure stayed in place for six weeks after Ferdinand’s entry so that it could be admired at leisure by the citizens [Fig. 8.5.].43 The Realities of Performance Despite these obstacles which deprive us of a completely satisfactory picture of actual events, it is possible to recall many of the realities of performance.44 Before dawn, citizens were awakened to the sound of horses’ hoofs tramping rapidly through the city, and of voices yelling commands. They heard the noise of cleaning-up operations, of streets being

41 Thofner, A Common Art, pp. 94-115. The significance of Dutch translations in 1635 are underlined by Bart Ramakers, ‘Ferdinand’s Triumph and the Vernacular Dramatic Tradition’, in Knaap and Putman, Art, Music and Spectacle, pp. 67-93; see also the discussion by Emily Peters, ‘Printing Ritual’, 389-90. 42 R. Malcolm Smuts, ‘Public Ceremony and Royal Charisma: the English Royal Entry in London, 1485-1621’, in A. Beier et al (eds), The First Modern Society, pp. 65-93. 43 Emily Peters, ‘Printing Ritual’, 371 and Thofner, A Common Art, p. 323. 44 Some studies have attempted to recall the transformation of the city; see, for example, Florence Migneault, ‘Ruines et désolations: la mise en scène dans les entrées royales de 1563 et 1596’, Memini: travaux et documents 5 (2001), pp. 5-28, and L. Roy, ‘Espace urbain et système de représentation. Les entrées du dauphin et de François Ier à Caen en 1532’, ibid., pp. 51-58.

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cleared, of sand being spread across the pavements, and of tapestries and embroidered cloths being nailed onto buildings. The author of the Avignon entry (1622) captures the atmosphere: Qui crioit, qui rioit, qui martelloit et appeloit à aide des autres instrumens qui estoient de saison pour mettre en perfection tous les arcs du triomphe et reparer les bresches que la violence du vent y avoit fait quelques jours precedents.45 [Everyone laughed, shouted and hammered away, calling on other available tools to come to their aid to bring to perfection all the triumphal arches and to repair those cracks which the violence of the wind some days before had opened up]. Later, the din was doubled by the presence of Guards who came along, with drums thundering, preceding the crowd of nobles who entered the streets with their wagons filled with instruments of war, brandishing their weapons, and with horses, mules and carriages blowing up the dust. The pandemonium was well captured in these lines where an author tries to render noise through repeated sounds and alliterations: Il y gresle d’acier, il y pleut de cailloux, on s’y frotte, on y trotte, on galoppe, on s’estrappe, on s’attrape, on se frappe, on court, on crie, on y tonne, on estonne tous ceux qui s’en approchent, et le bon est que tout se termine après[…][par] cantiques de victoire.46 [steel pours down everywhere, pebbles follow suit; everyone bangs together, bumps into each other; they gallop, stop and start, and offer blows; they run, scream and trumpet forth, astounding everyone who comes within their sights: and the good thing is that everything ends…in songs of victory]. These victorious songs put all to right. Sometimes, though, the streets of a city were ill prepared for a princely visit. When victorious Henry VIII declared his intention of entering Tournai on Sunday 25 September (1513), there was scarcely time to clear away the cannon balls and broken masonry which the King’s army had so recently inflicted on the city. There was the problem, too, of garbage arrangements which had been suspended during the siege. The archives do not reveal how the streets were cleared so intent were citizens and foes alike in securing adequate conditions for the English occupation.47 High winds could wreck the most conscientious work and weeks of preparation could end in despair. The force of the storms at Avignon (1622) and at Arles (1622) were repeated a month later at Lyon where cold winds brought hail, snow and ice to the city so that all the pipes were frozen, wood supports collapsed as the temperature rose and fell, and all the work had to be done again.48 It had been at Antwerp, however, in 1549 where weather conditions had produced the most distress, for it rained ceaselessly on the day of the entry, and in torrents. In one respect, the preparations had been in vain for it seems that Prince Philip entered the city early and raced past the arches where many of the elements of the 45 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, p. 58. 46 Ibid., p. 58. 47 C. G. Cruickshank, The English Occupation of Tournai 1513–1519 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), p. 9. 48 Le Soleil au signe du Lyon, p. 42.

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architecture were not fully visible through the driving rain — the inclement weather having left work incomplete. Grapheus’ outrage at this act of God still pervaded his text where he reassured the reader that his narrative would record everything as it had been planned ‘which we present here as though fully completed’.49 It was doubly important to provide a full record of what had been planned since the Town Council had wanted to make clear, through the monuments they had erected and the oath which the Prince swore before the people, that their new ruler recognized all the rights and privileges of the city.50 Evil weather could destroy the planned spectacle almost entirely, as at Norwich (1578) when Queen Elizabeth I was denied the pleasure of a performance designed by Thomas Churchyard who reported: there fell such a shoure of reyne (and in the neck thereof came such a terrible thunder) that everyone of us were driven to seeke for coverte.51 Later, cities were better prepared to anticipate such storms. In Avignon (1622) special tents and temporary roofs were provided to protect the workmen and to ensure that the monuments were in pristine condition for the arrival of the King.52 When Louis XIII arrived in Troyes (1629), instead of making an entrance on horseback, he travelled during the four hours which the entry lasted in a carriage drawn by six grey chargers as the ice was thick and dangerous.53 The presence of violence, abundantly displayed in paint and words on the structures built for princes has been shown. Such disorder was not, however, limited to the representations themselves. The delicate and precarious state of cities throughout Europe at this time is well illustrated by a reminder from Agrippa d’Aubigné who, in his Histoire for the year 1573, drew together in one sentence entertainment and suffering. At the very moment that Henri, Duc d’Anjou, newly elected King of Poland, was traversing Paris in triumph, the long siege by government forces of the hill town of Sancerre was coming to an end with the sight of shattered buildings and the spectacle of the dead and dying — life drawn from them through famine and disease. D’Aubigné’s recollections are explicit: Meslons la misère de Sancerre aux pompes de Paris. Sa composition fut faicte le jour que les Polonais entrerent après 500 personnes mortes de faim.54 [Let us put together the misery at Sancerre and the pomp in Paris. Its surrender came on the day the Poles made their entry after 500 souls had died from starvation]. Triumphal entries brought heightened excitement to a city, and that condition could produce unexpected outcomes. At Saint Jean d’Angély (1620), repeated blasts from cannons

49 Grapheus, La très admirable […] triumphante entrée, sig. A2v. 50 The concerns of the city are fully explored by Mark A. Meadow, ‘Ritual and Civic Identity in Philip II’s 1549 Antwerp “Blijde Incompst” [ Joyous Entry]’, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 49 (1998), 37-68. 51 Churchyard’s account is printed in Nichols, Progresses […] Elizabeth [I], vol. II, pp. 179-233; citation pp. 200-01. 52 Gelliot, La Voye de laict, pp. 54-55. 53 ‘Il estoit plus de quatre heures après midy quant toutes ces ceremonies furent achevées; alors S. M. rentra en son carrosse, tiré par six Coursiers gris, pour s’acheminer dans la ville, n’ayant esté trouvé bon ny asseuré que S. M. montast à Cheval à cause des verglas et glaces’, La joyeuse entrée du Roy en sa ville de Troyes, p. 109. 54 Agrippa d’Aubigné, Histoire, Liv. VII, ch. 1, p. 180. The siege of Sancerre had lasted for seven months and the horrors experienced were detailed by Jean de Léry, L’Histoire mémorable de la ville de Sancerre (La Rochelle: Antoine Chuppin, 1574).

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intended to signal the climax to Louis XIII’s visit brought down houses and broke windows. Immediately, orders were given for the fire power to be stopped, but they were too late for the many injured people who had passed beneath the falling timbers: Des grosses pieces de canon, leur foudroyant tintamarre que l’on fit incontinent cesser à cause que l’ébranlement des maisons et des vitres qui tomboient et blessoient le people qui passoient en icelle.55 [The thundering din from the huge cannons was stopped immediately as they caused the tumbling down of houses and the shattering of windows which fell to the ground and harmed the people who were passing beneath]. At La Rochelle (1632), the magnificent firework display over the Seine had been intended to replay the naval battle which had restored the city to the crown. The court gazed admiringly at the pyrotechnic genius that could represent such a complex spectacle. By contrast, the citizens were overcome. They panicked and fled in disarray, so realistic was the show and so deeply lasting the remembrance of a traumatic event.56 Another unscheduled event had come about at Genoa (1548) when Prince Philip’s formal entry into the city had to be postponed as a consequence of the activities of rival factions within the town itself. Civil unrest had broken out between the burghers of the city and the Spanish troops who had accompanied the Prince. It was claimed that the latter had behaved brutally and that one of the citizens had been murdered. Riots broke out everywhere and the nights resounded with alarms, with the noise of gunpowder and muskets. The din grew so loud that it penetrated the walls of the palace. Then the people joined in, dismayed at the violence they witnessed from their superiors. It took several days to calm things down before the preparations for the triumphal shows could be resumed.57 Disturbances also marked entries into the Netherlands some years later when the ceremony was used as part of a political strategy to install a prince favourable to Dutch concerns and considered capable of confronting the prevailing dominance of the Spaniards. At Antwerp (1582), on the day that François, Duc d’Anjou, formally entered into the city, arches were defaced, his coats of arms taken off public buildings and destroyed, while pamphlets were distributed across the city demonstrating anti-Catholic feelings by reminding everyone of the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew. Anti-French feelings were intense. How could such a prince be trusted? During his stay in the city of Ghent, forces opposing his rule advanced on the town and the Prince was obliged to take action.58 This represented but one of the setbacks the Duke endured as, ultimately, his enterprise failed and he was obliged to return ignominiously to France after unleashing his own troops on the city barely one year after his joyous entry.59 However, for both events, festival books record the images in their perfection.

55 Entrée royale […] Sainct Jean d’Angely, pp. 12-13. This experience might explain why it was forbidden ‘de tirer aucunes arquebusades’ in Marseille two years later. 56 [La Rochelle], Relation (1632), in Mulryne, Watanabe O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, p. 133. 57 Calvete de Estrella, Le Très-Heureux Voyage, vol. I, pp. 38-42. 58 Ghent, L’Entrée, p. 20. 59 See the discussion by A. L. van Braeune, ‘Spectacle and Spin for a Spurned Prince: Civic Strategies in the Entry Ceremonies of the Duke of Anjou in Antwerp, Bruges and Ghent, 1582’, Journal of Early Modern History, 11 (4-5) (2007), 263-84.

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Forces deployed to protect the court could themselves become a source of disruption. At Rouen (1532), the entry of the Dauphin was accompanied by great disorder. Fighting broke out among those very persons who had been deputed to keep the peace: Y eut grand désordre à l’entrée de Monseigneur le Dauphin, et sembloit que ledit desordre procédoit des gens que l’on avoit commis pour estre avec la cour et la garder de presse.60 [There was great disorder during the entry of Monseigneur the Dauphin, and it seemed as if the disruption came from the very persons charged to be with the court and to protect it from the crowds]. Wanton destruction was sometimes perpetrated by a mob furious at the display of peace and plenty which they themselves had for so long been denied. At Orléans (1576), as soon as King Henri III had passed on beyond the garden of pleasure which had been created for him, it was immediately destroyed by the crowd, ‘pillé, ravagé et emporté’ [pillaged, destroyed and taken away]. The statues which had been so carefully created were broken into pieces, causing great damage and were scattered everywhere. All this, despite the presence of guards who had been placed to protect all the decorations — ‘non obstant les gardes y establies’.61 The presence of a boisterous crowd was most marked at the moment when golden coins were thrown abroad as a sign of joy and signal of collective celebration. At Antwerp (1549), the scramble for coins produced what Grapheus termed ‘a strange comedy’, for some men trod on others to grab up a keepsake; they pummelled each other with their fists, tearing out hair and cursing aloud. Others shouted and screamed as they bent down to secure the precious money. Even when there was no such commotion, crowds could be so dense that, for example, it took Charles II (1630–1685) seven hours to make his way through London on his entry there in May 1660.62 By contrast, imprinted on our minds, through the efforts of artists and writers, is the vision of a prince, glorious to behold, welcomed by excited crowds, accompanied by troops and citizens dressed in their very best enjoying the triumphs which mirrored victories recently accomplished. Princes, however, did not always live up to this image nor did they behave as their citizens anticipated. It happened that some princes could not understand what was said and what was represented. Emperor Charles V, all along the route of his entry into Rome (1536), was accompanied by an interpreter (dressed in a toga), who could explain in detail the meaning of the symbolism. When Prince Philip who knew no German, no French and no Flemish, made his long journey across Europe (1548-59), the Cardinal de Trente and President Viglius had to act as his interpreters. Marie de Médicis, in Avignon (1600), and through her many entries into French cities as she made her way to join her new husband, Henri IV, was also followed by an interpreter who translated the many speeches of homage and welcome, as well as pointing out the chief meanings disguised beneath the symbols. Furthermore, princes often failed to perform as planners intended. Louis XII refused to mount the triumphal chariot which had been prepared to

60 Les Entrées de Eléonore d’Autriche, et du Dauphin, dans la ville de Rouen [1532], p. xxiv. 61 Les triumphes et magnificences faictes a l’entrée du roy et de la royne en la ville d’Orleans le quinziesme iour de Novembre, 1576 (Paris: Jean de Lastre, 1576), p. 17. 62 Recorded in Evelyn, The Diary of John Evelyn, 29 May 1660, p. 406.

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transport him as victorious conqueror across the city of Milan (1507). Emperor Charles V disappointed many as he rode through the towns of Northern Italy in the 1530s to view the glorious arches prepared to honour him, sombrely dressed in unrelieved black velvet. While the arches for the Paris entry (1573) stressed, in their decoration and symbolism, the spirit of concord between brothers — the new King of Poland and King Charles IX — the latter clearly harboured no such feelings of harmony. The English ambassador, Dr Valentine Dale, reported to Lord Burghley (1520–1598): The King does not well bear the great triumph of his brother, the joy shown at his entry was more great than to the king himself. In his letter, Dr Dale then noted that on the day of the entry itself: The King, in an old cloak and evil-favoured hat, withdrew himself to a little house upon the bridge from all the ladies, and there cast out money upon the people to get them together, and made pastime to cast out buckets of water upon them while they were scrambling for money.63 This was a novel way of signalling celebration! Similarly, James I, King of England, was an impatient monarch and he suffered the cares of ceremony with difficulty. His entry into London (1603) was marked by misbehaviour. In front of the magnificent arch topped by a detailed perspective of the city Londonium, he scarcely paused: ‘Too short a time did his Maiestie dwell upon this first place’, grumbles the voice in the official account of the proceedings. Again, at the Belgians’ arch at the Royal Exchange, the King hurried on not wishing to hear the abundant praise which poured forth from those strangers. Nor was music able to stay his rapid course through the town: the choristers at St Paul’s were totally neglected as the King rode past so rapidly that, before they could begin, he was already at the third gate listening to the speech of Sir Henry Montague, ‘Recorder of the Citie’.64 Such inattention contrasts strongly with the joyful performance of the King of Denmark who entered triumphantly into his capital in 1634.65 It is an easy task to isolate stories of misadventure, omission or disarray; but it is necessary to bring these to the surface in order to provide an all round view of princely entries at this period. They were occasions of extraordinary display, of impressive artistic and poetic achievement; they responded to a genuine need to keep hopes alive at a time of great troubles. By their very nature, however, the displays were ephemeral. They began to deteriorate the day after the celebration with structures taken to pieces by the workmen anxious to preserve as much as possible for use on another occasion. Often the locations themselves disappeared. The superb palace built at Binche by Mary of Hungary to entertain her brother and nephew, the Emperor and his son, with festivals whose fame echoed throughout Europe (1549) was razed to the ground. The French King Henri II ordered it to be sacked, while taking the precaution of saving its precious contents from the flames.

63 Calendar of State Papers, Foreign, September 18, 1573, no. 1168. 64 Thomas Dekker, The Whole Magnificent Entertainment given to the King James, Queene Anne, his wife, and Henry Frederick the Prince […] 15 March, 1603 (London: E. Allde, 1604), pp. 14, 32, 39-41. 65 See the work of Mara R. Wade, Triumphus Nuptialis Danicus: German Culture and Denmark. The Great Wedding of 1634 (Weisbaden: Harrassowitz, 1996).

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The historian De Thou lamented the disappearance of such ‘un superbe palais’ filled with antique statues and excellent paintings and decorated with sculptures, the very epitome of ‘une magnificence royale’.66 Wooden castles, built specially for festival events, disappeared in combative play, just like fireworks; tilts, pyramids and arches were broken up and lost their canvases; triumphant chariots were dismantled and taken away, to be stored for the future. Fragments of vessels littered the waters of rivers and the flooded courtyards where their performances had impressed vast crowds. Speeches were forgotten, and music was no longer heard. Reconstruction Notwithstanding all these losses, it is still possible to attempt credible reconstructions of entries in the Renaissance from the remains of carefully kept municipal archives, from the memories of eye witnesses and, above all, from those commemorative volumes which recorded communal activity and political diplomacy, and which ensured that both visions of triumph and experience of violence survive. From the archives we know that Hans Vredeman de Vries supplied perfectly drawn designs of all the inventions — arches, figures, spectacles and theatres — which had to be approved for Plantin’s folio edition of the Antwerp entry (1582). Yet this volume did not cite in the text any names of the contributing artists since it was seen as a production by and for the community, to shape and influence opinion.67 A study has yet to be made of the quantities of texts of performance that were printed and purchased. A. L. van Braeune provided a valuable insight when he revealed that the city of Antwerp in 1582 bought seventy four copies of the ceremonial volume with five hundred and sixty copies purchased by individuals in the first year of publication;68 and Véronique Meyer came upon the contract in the Paris archives for the entry of Louis XIII into the capital in 1628 which informs us that 700 copies were produced with 200 ear-marked for official councillors and the other 500 copies made available for purchase through the publishing house Rocolet.69 Fortunately, other modes of preservation were created which provide eloquent parallels for the study of festival entries: the paintings that still adorn royal and ducal apartments and galleries; and the prints that were made to circulate the message and substance of the spectacle beyond the privileged few. Princes had specially

66 De Thou, Histoire, book XIII (1554), p. 456. Many were the writers who reported in detail the destruction of Mary of Hungary’s palaces — Mariemont and Binche (through revenge by Henri II for the loss of his own palace at Folembray), and all celebrate the extraordinary magnificence of their contents. As examples, see François de Rabutin, Commentaires des dernières guerres, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 7 (1553 and 1554), pp. 458 and 476-67; and François de Boyvin, Baron du Villars, Mémoires, ed. Michaud and Poujoulat, Series I, vol. 10 (1554), pp. 181-83. 67 See Emily Peters, ‘Printing Ritual’, 404-07. 68 A. L. van Braeune, ‘Spectacle and Spin’, 271-72. The costs of production and the number of purchases are also itemized in the record, see Emily Peters’ article, ‘Printing Ritual’, 404-08. 69 Véronique Meyer, ‘Louis XIII’s Entry into Paris after the capture of La Rochelle, in Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Shewring, Europa Triumphans, vol. II, pp. 135-44, article based on the Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la Ville de Paris, vol. 20 (1628–1632), p. 77. The contract for the publication of the entry was published by M. A. Fleury, Documents du Minutier Central concernant l’histoire de l’art 1600–1650 (Paris: Ministère des affaires culturelles, 1969), pp. 233-34.

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produced copies made as gifts to distribute — such as those King Charles IX ordered for his Paris entry (1571). Others could continue to enjoy the experience of self-representation through illuminated manuscripts such as the one commemorating Queen Mary’s initial reception into Paris (1514), preserved in the British Library, beautifully coloured and scripted on vellum; or the illuminated record of her formal entry into the capital (1514);70 or a similarly precious manuscript composed by Remy Dupuys for the entry of Charles into Bruges in April 1515, and preserved in Vienna.71 In Antwerp (1635), the paintings were taken down from the arches and retouched in 1637; sixteen were installed in Ferdinand’s palace in Brussels, along with twelve statues designed by Rubens for the entry. The urge to preserve these monuments to glory is thus apparent but, unfortunately, many were later destroyed in the fire of 1731.72 In addition, there were the many tapestries made for kings at extraordinary expense, not only to decorate their palaces but to exhibit their magnificence and achievements embodied, perhaps most famously, in the Valois Tapestries woven in Flanders and made to capture the splendour of the French Court, or the Triumphs of Charles based on prints by Heemskerck and Pieter van Cock (1520–1550), made into impressive hangings and further transformed into manuscript illuminations.73 These rich and diverse records of artistic and knightly achievement speak to more than one historical moment and raise issues about the complex intentions of planners and performers in princely entries whose solution can only be attempted if the violent context in which they were created is fully perceived and understood.74 Triumph and pain went together. Their interdependence was already present in the Roman Triumphs and recognized by the historians who reported them — that ambiguous nature of victory and its consequences, both in terms of princely aspirations as well as the damage done in achieving triumph. There is one unusual surviving document which gives the reaction of a prince himself to an entry created in his honour. Archduke Ernst, writing from Brussels to Rudolf II, not only provided this assessment of his satisfaction in being received into Antwerp (1594), but also his remarkable acknowledgement of the problems he was expected to address: At different places in the city and especially along the streets I passed, there had been built at no small expense, triumphal arches and superb arcades, embellished with different scenes and inscriptions, all in such good order that one could conclude from it all, that not only the city, but the entire country, rejoiced greatly at my arrival. But he concluded: ‘and that the people hoped for real deliverance by my intervention, from the evils and afflictions that have burdened them for so long’ (10 Feb, 1594).75 70 British Library, Pierre Gringoire, Reception de Marie d’Angleterre (Paris, 1514), Cotton Vespasian B. 2, 13 ff. 71 Remy Dupuy, La triumphante et solemnelle entrée faicte sur le nouvel et joyeux advenement […] de Bruges, lan mil.v cens et xv. Le xvvvi jour dapril, Oesterreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS 2591. A version was published in Paris by Gilles de Gourmont (1515), and a facsimile of this printing was edited with an introduction by Sydney Anglo (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1970). 72 Details reported by Anna Knaap in her Introduction to Art, Music and Spectacle, p. 25. 73 British Library, The Triumphs of Charles V, made by an Italian artist, Add. MS 33733, 17 ff. 74 On the ways images belong to more than one historical period, Nagel and Wood, Anachronic Renaissance (2010). 75 Letter cited by G. Kubler, ‘Archiducal Flanders and the Joyeuse Entrée at Lisbon in 1619’, Jaerboek van het Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten (Antwerp, 1970), pp. 157-211; citation, p. 193. Kubler argues convincingly that the Lisbon entry reproduces many of the art works used in the entries into the Netherlands and made available to artists through prints.

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Bibliography

I

List of Entries into European Cities, 1480–1635

1486 [Troyes], L’Entrée du roi Charles VIII à Troyes (anonymous narration, in Guenée, Bernard, and Françoise Lehoux, Les entrées royales françaises de 1328 à 1515 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1968) pp. 265-94) 1498 [Paris], L’Entrée du roi de France tres chrestien Loys douziesme de ce nom a sa bonne ville de Paris […] l’an mil CCCC.IIIxx et XVIII (in Guenée, Bernard, and Françoise Lehoux, Les entrées royales françaises de 1328 à 1515 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1968) pp. 126-35) 1490 [Vienne], Introitus factus in civitate Vienne […] in jocundo adventu domini nostri regis Karoli VIII, anno MCCC, nonagesimo (in Guenée, Bernard, and Françoise Lehoux, Les entrées royales françaises de 1328 à 1515 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1968), pp. 295-306) 1501 [Macon], L’Entrée du roi Louis XII à Macon, from Registres du conseil de la ville (in Guenée, Bernard, and Françoise Lehoux, Les entrées royales françaises de 1328 à 1515 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1968), pp. 306-11) 1503 [Edinburgh], Entry of Mary Tudor into Edinburgh (College of Arms, MS I M.13, ff. 76115v) 1507 [Genoa], Das einreyten des Konigs von Franckreich in Jenua aufs Frantzosischer zongen Ins Teutsch gepracht (Nuremberg: J. Weyssenburger, 1507) 1507 [Lyon], L’Entrée de Louis XII à Lyon, 1507, ed. Georges Guigue, Collection des opuscules lyonnais, no. 9 (Lyon: Henri Georg, 1885) 1508 [Ghent], Joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur Maximilien I, Gand, 1508, ed. Philippe A. C. Kervyn de Volkaerskeke (Leipzig: C. Marquandt, 1850) 1508 [Rouen], L’entrée du Roi Louis XII et de la reine à Rouen (1508), ed. P. Le Verdier (Rouen: Léon Guy, 1900) 1508 [Paris], L’Entrée de Louis XII à Paris, 1508, ed. Pierre Verdier, Société des Bibliophiles Normands (Rouen: Léon Guy, 1900) 1509 [Milan], Lentre du roy a Millan (Lyon: Novel Abraham, 1509) 1514 [Paris], L’ordre des Joustes faictes à Paris à l’entrée de la royne Marie d’Angleterre qui espousa Louis XII le 9 oct. 1514 (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés Lb29 52) 1514 [Paris], Le sacre, couronnement, triomphe et entrée à Paris de Madame Claude de France, fille de Louis XII, roy de France et de Anne heritière de Bretaigne, épouse de François Ier, roy de France [1515] (British Library, Cotton MS Titus A XVII) 1514 [Paris], [Pierre Gringoire], Les entrées royales à Paris de Marie d’Angleterre (1514) et de Claude de France (1517), ed. Cynthia J. Brown (Geneva: Droz, 2005)

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1515 [Blois], El triumpho et honore fatto al christianissimo re de Franza quando entro nella citta de Blessi ([Venice: [n. pub.], 1515]) 1515 [Lyon], L’entrée de François Premier Roy de France en la cité de Lyon le 12 Juillet 1515, ed. Georges Guigue (Lyon: Société des Bibliophiles Lyonnais, 1899) 1515 [Bruges], Rémy Dupuy, La triumphante et solemnelle entrée faicte sur le nouvel et joyeux advenement de tres hault, tres puissant et tres excellent prince monsieur Charles prince des Hespaignes […] en sa ville de Bruges, 1515, le xviiie jour dapril (Paris: Gilles de Gourmont, 1515) 1515 [Bruges], La tryumphante entrée de Charles, prince des Espagnes en Bruges, 1515: a facsimile edition of a sixteenth-century printing of MS cod. 2591, National Library, Vienna by Sydney Anglo (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1970) 1515 [Florence], De la gressu Summi Pont. Leon X, Descriptio Paridis de Grassis (Florence: apud Caeitarum Cambiagi, 1793) 1516 [Douai], La très excellente et très joyeuse entrée de l’Empereur notre Sire, lors Roy, au Mois de May 1516. Sa conduite et demeure en icelle comme il sensuyt, ed. H.-R. Duthilloeul, Archives historiques et littéraires du Nord de la France, series 3, vol. 6 (1857), pp. 252-65 1517 [Paris], Les entrées royales à Paris de Marie d’Angleterre (1514) et Claude de France (1517), ed. Cynthia J. Brown (Geneva: Droz, 2005) 1517 [Rouen], L’entrée de François Premier […] dans la ville de Rouen […] 1517, ed. Charles de Robillard de Beaurepaire (Rouen: H. Boissel, 1867) 1520 [Cognac], (reported by Cooper, ‘Era una meravigioa verderli’) 1520 [Arras], Le triu[m]phe festifz bien venue [et] honorable recoeul faict par le roy da[n]gleterre en la ville de Calais a la tresacree Cesaree catholiq[ue](Arras: [n. pub.], 1520) 1520 [Antwerp], Petrus Aegidius [Pierre Gillis], Hypotheses sive argumenta spectaculorum quae Caes. Carolo […] fides et amor civitatis Antwerpicus [1611], printed in Marquard Freher, Rerum Germanicorum Scriptores, 3 vols (Frankfurt: Hanoviae, 1717), vol. III, pp. 205-16 1526 [Seville], Feste et Archi Triumphali furono fatti nella intrata dello Invitissimo Cesare Carlo V[…]et de la seren. et Potentissima signora Isabella […] in la nobilissima e fidelissima città de Siviglia, 3 marzo, 1526 ([n.p.], [n.d.]) 1527 [Stoel and Wittenberg], La triumphante entrée et couronnement de Ferdinand de la Royale majesté de Hunguerie et de Boême à Stoel et Wittenberg le 13e de novembre, 1527 (Antwerp: Guillaume Dosterman 1527) 1527 [Prague], Des Ferdinanden eyntzug zu Praga. 1527 (Leipzig: Blum, 1527) 1530 [Augsburg], Vonn Römischer Kayser icher Mayestat Caroli V. Ehrlich einreitten in des Heyligen Reichs Stat Nürnbert, Anno M.D.XXXI (Würzburg: Balthassar Müller, 1541) 1532 [Rouen], Les entrées de la royne et de monseigneur le Daulphin […] faictes à Rouen en lan mil cinq cens trente et ung (Paris: [Pierre Leber], Alain Lohrain [1532]) ed. André Pottier, Société des Bibliophiles Normands, no. 52 (Rouen: Henry Boissel, 1866) 1533 [Lyon], L’Entrée de la Royne faicte en l’antique et noble cité de Lyon (Lyon: Iehan Crespin, 1533) 1535 [Messina], Copia de una lettra della particularita dellordine con il quale la maesta cesarea intro in Messina, e del triompho [et] sumptuosi apparati gli forono ([n.p.]: [n. pub.], [1535]) 1535 [Messina], N. G. d’Alibrando, Il triumpho che fece Messina nella intrata del Imperator Carlo V (Messina: [n. pub.], 1535)

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1535 [Cambrai], Die incoemste der twee seer hoochgeboren ghesusteren ons alder genadichste[n] keysers Karolus dy vijfde van dyen name, dye oninginne […] (Antwerp: [n. pub.], 1535) 1536 [Naples], Andrea Sala, La Triomphale Entrata di Carlo V[…] la inclita città di Napoli e di Messina (Messina: [n. pub.], 1536) 1536 [Lucca], Nicolo Montecatini, Entrata del imperatore nella citta di Lucca ([n.p.], [n.d.]) 1536 [Siena], La felice Entrata dello Imperatore in la città famosa di Siena, con li superbi apparati, & motti latini in lode di sua Maesta (Siena: [n. pub.], 1536) 1536 [Rome], La gloriosa et triumphale Entrata di Carlo V (Rome: A. Blado, 1536) 1536 [Rome], Z. Ceffino, La triomphante entrée de l’empereur nostre Sire Charles le 5e […] en sa noble cité de Rome (Antwerp: I. Stredsius, 1536) 1536 [Rome], La felice Entrata […] dello Imperatore. Ordine, pompe, apparati […] (Rome: A. Blado, 1536) 1536 [Florence], Ordine, pompe, apparati, e cerimonie, delle solenne intrata di Carlo V Imp […] nella città di Roma, Siena et Fiorenza (Rome: A. Blado, 1536) 1538 [Piacenza], Francesco Toletano, La triomphale Intrata della. s. di Papa Paulo. III in la nobile Citta di Piacenza, con il significato de li Epetaphii, che contine in li Archi Triomphali, & il gran apparato fatto da Cittadini Piacentini (Piacenza: [n. pub.], 1538) 1539 [Naples], La solenne et triomphante entrata della illustrissima S. duchessa di Firenze, dapoi la partita sua di Napoli, in Livorno, Pisa, Empoli, Poggio [et] Firenze […] (Rome: [n. pub.], 1539) 1539 [France], La solenne et felice intrata dela cesarea maesta nella Franza, con il superbi apparati, [e] archi triomphali con tutte le historie pitture […] ([n. pub.], [1539]) 1539 [Paris], L’ordre tenu et garde a l’entree de tres hault et trespuissant prince Charles Empereur […] Paris […] 1539 ([n.p.], [n.d.]) 1539 [Florence], La solenne et triomphante entrata Della Illustrissima S. Duchessa di Firenze […] con li superbi apparati & Archi Trionphali con tutte le Historie, pitture & motti che in esse erano […] (Rome: [n. pub.], 1539) 1541 [Milan], Giovanni Alberto Alicante, Trattato del’ Intrar in Milano, di Carlo V. C. sempre Aug. con le proprie figure de le archi, et per ordine, di nobili vassali et principi et signori cesarei […] (Mediolani: apud Andreani Caluum, 1541) 1541 [Nuremberg], Vonn Römischer Kayserlichen Mayestat Caroli V[…] Nuremberg (Würstburg: Balthassar Müller, 1541) 1543 [Cracow], Hochzeitlicher Einzug des Jungen Königin zu Cracou. Mit anzeigung aller Herschafft un Herrlicheiten so von beden Theilen mit engeritten sindt (Augsburg: [n. pub.], 1543) 1546 [Milan], Landolfo Verità, L’Entrata fatta in Milano […] del sig. […] Don Fernando Gonzaga alli xix di Giugno 1546 (Milan: Antonio Borgio, 1546) 1547 [Rheims], L’Entrée du Roi Très Chrétien Henri II dans la ville de Reims et son couronnement, trans. from Italian edition [Venice: Paolo Gherardo, 1547] by Hugues Krafft (Reims: Académie nationale, 1913) 1548 [Genoa] Teodoro Siciliano, La valorosa et trionfante gionta & pomposa intrata della regal alteza de don Maximiano principe di Boemia et dica Daustria fatta nella citta i Genoua con li grandi trionfi & incontro fatto per la Illustrissima Signoria & Principe Doria (Genoa?: [n. pub.], 1548) 1548 [Lyon], Maurice Scève, Magnificence de la superbe et triumphante entrée de la noble et antique cité de Lyon faicte au treschrestien roy de France Henry Deuxiesme de ce nom, et à la Royne Catherine son Espouse, le xxiii de Septembre M.D.XLVIII (Lyon: Guillaume Rouille, 1549)

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1548 [Lyon], Maurice Scève, L’Entrée de Henri II à Lyon, 1548, ed. Richard Cooper, facsimile with introduction, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies (Tempe: Arizona, 1997) 1548 [Genoa], K. Teodoro, La valorosa e trionfante gionta et pomposa intrata […] don Maximiliano […] nella citta di Genova con li grandi trionfi et incontro fatto per la illustrissima signoria e Principe Doria (Genoa: [n. pub.], 1548) 1548-9 [Philip II’s Journey], Juan Cristobal Calvete de Estrella, El felissimo viaje d’el muy alto y muy poderoso Principe Don Phelippe hijo d’el Emperador Don Carlos Quinto Maximo desde Espana a sus tierras de la baxa Alemana (Antwerp: Martin Nuccio, 1552); French edition, trans. Jules Petit, Le Très-Heureux Voyage […] (Brussels: Archives générales du Royaume, 1873), 5 vols 1549 [Paris], C’est l’ordre qui a este tenu a la nouvelle et ioyeuse entrée, que treshault, tresexcellent et trespuissant Prince, le Roy treschrestien Henry deuzieme de ce nom, a faicte en sa bonne ville et cité de Paris, capitale de son Royaume, le seizieme iour de Iuin M.D.XLIX (Paris: Iehan Dallier, 1549) 1549 [Paris], L’Entrée du roi Henri II à Paris, le 16 juin, 1549, ed. I. D. McFarlane, facsimile edition with introduction, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies (Binghamton: New York, 1982) 1549 [Mantua], Descrittione delli archi et dechiaratione d’apparate publice fatta in Mantua […] principe di Spagna, 13 jan. 1549 ([n.p.], [n.d.]) 1549 [Binche], Litera della Gloriosa et Trionfante Entrada del seren. Principi di Spagna in Bins città di Fiandra, in Reulens, Charles, Le Siège et les fêtes de Binche (1543 and 1549), Société des Bibliophiles Belges, 25 (1878), pp. 65-119 1549 [Antwerp], Cornelis Grapheus, Spectaculorum in susceptione Philippi Hisp. Princ. Divi Caroli V[…] 1549. Antwerpiae aeditorum munificus apparatus (Antwerp: Plantin, 1549) 1549 [Ghent], Johannes Otho, Brevis descriptio cor. quae S.P.Q. Gand Philip Austria Caro V Caesari Princip. Flandrias (Ghent: Cornelius Mantilus, 1549) 1550 [Rouen], L’Entrée du très Magnanime, tres Puissant et Victorieux Roy de France Henry deuxisme de ce nom en sa noble cité de Rouen en rithme francoyse (MS, Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen, MS Y 28 [1268]) 1550 [Rouen], Cest la Deduction du sumptueux ordre plaisantz spectacles et magnifiques theatres dresses, et exhibes par les citoyens de Rouen ville Metropolitaine du pays de Normandie, A la sacree Maiesté du Treschristien Roy de France, Henry second leur souverain Seigneur, Et à tresillustre dame, ma Dame Katharine de Medicis […] (Rouen: Robert le Hoy, Robert & Iehan dictz du Gord, 1551) 1550 [Rouen], L’Entrée de Henri II, Rouen 1550. ed. Margaret M. McGowan, facsimile edition with introduction, (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Theatrum, 1974) 1553 [Carpentras], Antoine Blégier, L’entrée de Carpentras du prince Alexandre Farnese (Avignon: Macé Bonhomme, 1553) 1554 [London], La solenne et Felice Intrata delli seren. Re Philippo et Regina Maria d’Inghilterra nella Regal città di Londra il 24 di Iuio, 1554 ([n.p.], [n.d.]) 1554 [Winchester and London], Andrez Munoz, Viaje de Felipe Segundo à Inglaterra. Impreso en Zaragoza en 1554 y relaciones varias relativas al mesmo suceso, Sociedad de Bibliofilos españoles (Madrid: [n. pub.], 1877)

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1559 [London], The Royall Passage of Her Majesty from the Tower of London to her Palace of Whitehall, with all the Speaches and Devices, both of the Pageants and otherwise […] (London: for John Busby, 1604) 1559 [Madrid], Francesco Di Marchi, Aviso mandato d’al magnifico Capitano Frances de Marchi da Bologna […] Archi triumphali e superbi apparati fatte nelle nozzi […] Re catholico di Spagna, nelle nobil’ Città de Guadualagio et di Madril (Bologna: Pelegrino Bonardi, 1560) 1560 [Siena], Entrata pompe e feste fatte dalla nobilissima citta di Siena. A lo illvstriss. S. dvca Cosimo de Medici (Florence: Bartolomeo Sermartelli & Taddeo Pavoni compagni, 1560) 1560 [Rome], La solenne entrata […] il Sig. Duca di Firenze […] fatta in Roma […] nov. 1560 (Bologna: Antonio Graccarello et compagnie, 1560) 1560 [Toledo], Oliver Capello, La regale et trionfante entrata in Spagna in nobil città di Toledo […] Regina Isabella (Milan: F. Moscheni, 1560) 1560 [Toledo], Sebastien de Covarrubias Orosco, Relación y memoria de la entrada en esta ciudad de Toledo, del rey y reina nuestros señores Don Felipe y Donna Isabela y del recibimiento y fiestas y otras cosas, año de 1561, Sociedad de Bibliofilos Españoles, ‘Relaciones historicas de los siglos XVI y XVII’, vol. XXXII (Madrid: [n. pub.], 1896) 1560 [Toledo], Alvar Gomez de Castro, Recibimiento que la imperial ciudad de Toledo Hiza à la Majesdad de la reina nuestra Señora Dona Isabel, hija del rey Henrico II de Francia, cuando avenamente entró en ella à celebrar las fiestas de sus felicissimas bodas con el rey Don Phelipe nuestro señor (Toledo: Iuan de Ayala, 1561) 1561 [Modena], Gio. Maria Barbieri, Entrata solenne di Alfonso II duca di Ferrara in Modena (Modena: tipographia sociale, 1880) 1562 [Venice], La Entrata […] duca Alfonso II, Estense (Venice: Francesco Rampazetto, 1562) 1563 [Sens], Entrée du Roy Charles IX et de la Reyne-Mère Catherine de Médicis en la ville de Sens […] 1563, eds Eracle Cartault and Henri Monceaux (Auxerre/Paris: Georges Rouillé, 1882) 1563 [Rouen], Entrée de Charles IX à Rouen […] 1563, ed. Paul Le Cacheux (Rouen: Albert Lainé, 1936) 1563 [Vienna], Wolfgang Lazius, Epitome Solenniorum, quae in Auspicatum Adventum Invictiss […] Maximilian II (Vienna: Michael Zimmermann, 1563) 1564 [Lyon], Entrée de Charles IX à Lyon […] 1564, eds Vital de Valois, and A. Steyert (Lyon: Auguste Brun, 1884) 1566 [Florence], Domenco Mellini, Descrizione della entrata seren. Regina Giovanni d’Austria […] et dell’Illust. Francesco de Medici (Florence: I Giunti, 1566) 1569 [Metz], La celebre et magnifique entrée de Charles neufiesme, Tres-chrestien Roy de France, faicte en sa Ville et Cité de Metz (Paris: Jean Dallier, 1569) 1570 [Seville] Juan de Mal Lara, Recibimiento que hizo la muy noble y muy leal ciudad de Sevilla a la CRM del Rey D. Philippe N.S. (Sevilla: En casa de Alonso Escrivano, 1570); ed. Manuel Bernal Rohrégnez (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 1992) 1570 [Madrid], Iuan Lopez de Hoyos, Real apparato, y sumptuoso recibimiento con que Madrid (Madrid: Iuan Gracian, 1572) 1571 [Paris], Simon Bouquet, Bref et sommaire recueil de ce qui a esté faict et de l’ordre tenü à la joyeuse et triumphante entrée […] Charles IX […] le Mardy sixiesme iour de Mars (Paris: Denis du Pré, 1572)

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1571 [Paris], L’Entrée de Charles IX à Paris, 1571, ed. Frances A. Yates, facsimile with introduction (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974) 1571 [Paris], The Paris Entries of Charles IX and Elizabeth of Austria, eds Victor E. Graham, and W. McAllister Johnson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974) 1571 [Rome], Domenico Tassolo, and Baldassare Mariotti, I trionfi […] entrata […] signor Marcantonio Colonna (Venice: [n. pub.], 1571) 1573 [Paris], Feu de joye et entrée du roy de Pologne à Paris, in Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la ville de Paris, vol. VII, pp. 91-124; a manuscript version in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS fr. 5102 1574 [Cracow], Le allegrezze et solennita fatte in Cracovia […] nella coronatione del serenissimo re Enrico de Valois […] ([n. pub.] [1574]) 1574 [Venice], Nicolas Du Mont, La Réception du roy par l’empéreur Maximilian et l’Archiduc Ferdinand et les Vénitiens (Le Mans: H. Olivier, 1574) 1574 [Venice], Rocco Benedetti, Le feste et trionfi fatti dalla sereniss. Signoria di Venetia nella felice venuta di Henrico III […] (Venice: Andrea Galdini, 1574) 1574 [Mantua], Blaise de Vigenère, La somptueuse et magnifique entrée du très chrestien roy Henri III en la cité de Mantoüe (Paris: Nicolas Chesneau, 1576) 1576 [Orleans], Les triomphes et magnificences faictes à l’entrée du roy et de la royne en la ville d’Orleans le quinziesme iour de Novembre, 1576 (Paris: Jean de Lastre, 1576) 1576 [Tours], Nicolas de Nancel, Les triomphes et magnificences faictes à l’entrée de Mgr. Filz de France, et frere unicque du Roy, en sa ville de Tours, le 28e d’Aoust, 1576 (Tours: René Suffleau, 1576) 1577 [Ghent], Lucas de Heere, Beschrynerghe van betghene […] ter incompte van d’Excellentie les princes van Oraengien binna der Stade van Ghendt (Ghent: the widow of Pieter de Clerck, 1577); text and trans. in Mulryne, J. R., Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), vol. I, pp. 475-91 1578 [Norwich], The Joyfull Receyving of the Queenes most excellent Maiestie into her Highness Citie of Norwich: the things done in the time of her abode there, and the dolor of the citie at her departure (London: Henri Bynneman, 1578) 1578 [Antwerp], Jan Baptista Houwaert, Sommare Beschrijvingke vande triumphlijche Incomst vandem — Aerts. hertoge Matthias binnen die […] stadt von Brussele, in t’jaer — 1578 du 18 dach januarii […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1579) 1578 [Brussels], Jan Baptista Houwaert, Sommare beschrijuinghe vande triumphelijcke Incomst vanden doorluchtighen ende hooghgheboren Aerst-Hertoge Matthias […] van Brussele (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1579) 1581 [Lisbon], Alphonso Guerreiro, Das festas que se fizeram na cidade de Lisboa, na entrada del Rey D. Phelippe primero de Portugal (Lisbon: Francisco Correa, 1581) 1581 [Lisbon], Isidoro Velazquez, La entrada que en el Reine de Portugal hizo le S.C.R.M. de Don Philippe invictissimo Rey de las Españas (Lisbon: Manuel de Lyra, 1583) 1582 [Antwerp], [Petrus Loyseleur de Villiers], La Joyeuse et Magnifique Entrée de Mgr. François […] duc de Brabant, duc d’Anjou […] en la très renommée ville d’Anvers (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1582); ed. Helen Purkis, facsimile edition with introduction (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1974)

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1582 [Ghent], L’Entrée magnifique de Mgr. François, fils de France […] conte de Flandres […] faicte en la Metropolitaine et fameuse ville de Gand le 20 aoust, 1582 (Ghent: Cornille de Rekenure, 1582) 1584 [Florence], Descrizione delle pompe e delle feste fatta nella venuta […] Don Vincenzo Gonzaga […] per la seren. D. Leonora de’ Medici (Florence: Bartolomeo Sermartelli, 1584) 1585 [Zaragoza] Henrique Cock, Añales del año 1585, eds Alfredo Morel-Fatio, and Antonio Rodriguez Villa (Madrid: Imprenta estereo tipia y galva, de Ails an yca, 1876) 1585 [Turin], F. Silva, Relatione de ingresso della infanta Catarina d’Austria in Torino, X agosto, 1585, ed. Angelo Angelucci (Turin: G. B. Parana, 1876) 1586 [Bologna], Vittorio Benacci, Descrittione de gli apparati fatti in Bologna per la venuta de N. S. Papa Clemente VIII. Con gli disegni de gli Archi, Statue, & Pitture (Bologna: Vittorio Benacci, 1598) 1587 [Cracow], Tertii Sigismund, Electi Poloniae Cracoviam ingressus (Cracow: Jacobi Siebeneycher, 1587); text and trans. in Mulryne, J. R., Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), vol. I, pp. 398-407 1588 [Rouen], Brief Discours sur la bonne et joyeuse reception faicte à sa Majesté par ses tres-fidelles et obeïssants subjects de la ville de Rouen: Ensemble sur les recreations à elle données (Paris: P. Courant, 1588) 1588 [Caen], Jacques Cahaigues, Discours de l’Entrée du duc d’Epernon à Caen le 14 mai, 1588, ed. R. De Formigny de la Lande, Société des Bibliophiles Normands (Rouen: Léon Guy, 1903) 1588 [Piacenza], La triomphale Entrata della S. di Papa Paulo III in la nobile città di Piacenza, con il significato de la Epitaphi, che contine in li Archi Triumphali, e il gran apparato fatto de Cittadini piacentini ([n.p.]: [n. pub.], [1588]) 1588 [Pisa], Giovanni Cervoni, Descrizione […] entrata […] D. Fernando de’ Medici […] nella città di Pisa (Florence: Giorgio Marescotti, 1588) 1589 [Ferrara], Giovanni Paolo Mocante, Relatione dell’entrata solenne […] Margarita d’Austria in Ferrara, 13 di Novembre 1589 (Rome: Nicolò Mutij, 1589) 1589 [Pisa], Giovanni Cervoni, Descrizzione de le pompe e feste fatte ne la città di Pisa per la venuta de la seren. Madama Christerna de l’Oreno Gran Duchessa di Toscana (Florence: Giorgio Marescotti, 1589) 1589 [Florence], La sontuossima entrata della gran duchessa di Toscana nella città di Firenze (Ferrara: Il Baldini, 1589) 1589 [Florence], Raffaello Gualterotti, Della Descrizione del Regale apparato fatto nella Nobile città di Firenze per la venuta e per li nozze della seren. Dama Madama Cristina di Loreno moglie del ser. Don Ferdinando Medici, terzo Gran Duca (Florence: Antonio Padonani, 1589) 1591 [Brescia], Alfonso Caurivole, Il Sontuoso apparato fatto dalla Magnifica città di Brescia […] alla entrata de’ll Cardinale Morosoni (Brescia: Vincenzo Sabbio, 1591) 1592 [Cracow], Entry of Sigismund III, King of Poland […] and his most beloved wife […]Princess Anna, archduchess of Austria (Vienna: Leonhard Nassinger, 1592); text and trans. in Mulryne, J. R., Hélène Watanabe-O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), II, pp. 414-19 1594 [Brussels], [Philip Numan], Descriptio et explicatio pegmatum, arcum et spectaculorum, quae Bruxellae Brabant. Pridie Cal. Febr. Ao. M.D.XCIIII [1594] exhibita fuere, sub ingressum Sereniss. Principis Ernesti (Brussels: Johannes Mommaert, 1594)

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1594 [Antwerp], Johannes Bochius, Descriptio publicae gratulationis […] (Antwerp: Plantin, 1594); text and trans. in Mulryne, J. R., Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), II, pp. 496-574 1594 [Antwerp], Hans Mielke (ed.), The Ceremonial Entry of Ernst. Archduque of Austria, into Antwerp, June 14, 1594. Text by Johannes Bochius, Engravings by Peter van de Borcht, after Design by Marten De Vos (New York: Benjamin Blom, Inc., 1970) 1594 [Abbeville], Entrée et réception du roi Henri IV à Abbeville le 18 décembre, 1594 (Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS fr. 91, f. 183r-f. 191r) 1595 [Moulins], Antoine de Laval, Desseins des professions nobles et publiques (Paris: Abel l’Angelier, 1613), pp. 383-96 1595 [Lyon], Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée de très-grand, très-magnanime Henry IIII. Roy de France et de Navarre (Lyon: Pierre Michel, 1595) 1596 [Rouen], Discours de la joyeuse et triomphante entrée de très-haut, très-puissant et trèsmagnanime prince Henri IIII de ce nom […] Faicte en la ville de Rouen le mercredy seizième iour d’Octobre, 1596 (Rouen: Raphael Petit de Val, 1599) 1597 [Rome], Advis véritable envoyé de Rome, touchant la magnifique entrée de Mgr. le duc de Luxembourg, ambassadeur pour […] le roy […] Henry Bourbon quatriesme du nom […] (Lyon: les héritiers de B. Rigaud, 1597) 1598 [Lyon], Pierre Matthieu, L’accueil de Madame de la Guiche à Lyon, 1598, ed. P. Allut (Lyon: [n. pub.], 1851) 1598 [Ferrara], Relatione della solenne entrata […] di 29 di Genaro 1598 […]Card. Aldobrando, Legato (Rome: gli stampatori Camerali, 1598) 1598 [Venice], Gio. Luigi Collini, Explicatione de I carri trionfali fatti nella processione per la pace Fra Franza, e Spagna. Della Scola di S. Teodoro, il di Iuglio, 1598 (Venice: Marc Antonio Zaltieri, 1598) 1598 [Ferrara], Giovanni Paolo Mocante, Relatione dell’entrata solenne […] Margarita d’Austria in Ferrara 13 di Novembre (Rome: Nicolò Mutij, 1598) 1598 [Genoa], Descrizione dell’arco trionfale fatto in Genova nel pasagio […] della Regina catolica e del sermo. Alberto, arciduca d’Austria (Genoa: G. Pavoni, 1598) 1599 [Milan], Guido Mazenta, Apparato fatta dalla città di Milano per ricevare la seren. Regina D. Margarita d’Austria, Sposa da al Potentiss. Rè di Spagna D. Filippo III (Milan/Cremona: Barucino de Giovanni, 1599) 1599 [Valencia], Giovanni Battista Confaloniero, Relacion del aparato que se hizo en la ciudad de Valencia para el recibimiento de la Ser. Reyna Margarita de Austria […] (Valencia: Francesco Miguel, 1599) 1599 [Antwerp], Johannes Bochius, Historia narratio profectionis et inaugurationis […] Alberti et Isabellae (Antwerp: J. Moretium, 1602) 1600 [Lyon], Pierre Matthieu, L’Entrée de très-grand princesse Marie de Médicis en la ville de Lyon (Lyon: Thibaud Ancellin, 1600) 1600 [Avignon], André Valladier, Le Labyrinthe Royal de l’Hercule Gaulois Triomphant (Avignon: J. Bramereau, 1600) 1600 [Brussels], Johannes Bochius, Historica narratio profectionis et inaugurationis […] Alberti et Isabellae (Antwerp: J. Moretum, 1602) 1600 [Valenciennes], Henricus d’Oultremannus [Henri d’Oultremans], Descriptio Triumphi […] Alberti et Isabellae (Antwerp: Plantin Moretum, 1602)

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1600 [Valenciennes], Théophile Louise, La Joyeuse Entrée d’Albert et d’Isabelle à Valenciennes, 20 Février, 1600 (Valenciennes: Lemaitre, 1877) 1603 [Metz], Abraham Fabert, Voyage du Roy à Metz, l’occasion d’iceluy: ensemble les signes de resjouissance faits par ses habitans pour honorer l’entrée de Sa Majesté […] 1603 (Metz: [n. pub.], 1610) 1603 [London], Thomas Dekker, The Whole Magnificent Entertainment given to the King James, Queene Anne, his wife, and Henry Frederick the Prince […]15 March, 1603 (London: Edward Allde, 1604) 1606 [London], The King of Denmarkes welcome (London: Edward Allde, 1606) 1608 [Florence], La Sontvosissima et regia entrata Della Serenissima Gran principessa di Toscana in Fiorenza (Venice: Iseppo Marcello, 1608) 1608 [Mantua], Breve descrittione della Battaglia navale et de Castello di Fuochi triumphali (Mantua: Heredi di Francesco Osama, 1608) 1608 [Fontainebleau], Copie d’une lettre contentant la description de l’entrée triomphale de Don Pedro de Tholedo faicte a Fontainebleau, 1608 (Venice: Corneille le Caillier, 1609) 1610 [Paris], Mathurin Regnier, Le discours et signification des arcs triomphaux, inscriptions, devises, poesie, emblesmes, architectures et autres magnificences […] Le tout suivant le subject et disposé en son sens mystique, in Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la ville de Paris, vol. XIV, pp. 427-504 1611 [Prague], Ordre tenu en la reception du serenissime Prince Matthias Archiduc d’Austriche, Roy d’Hongrie, couronné Roy de Boheme (Lyon: Jean Anard dict Iamet, 1611) 1611 [Breslau], Klare und eigentliche Beschreibung defs Durchlauchtigsten/Groszmechtigsten Füsten und Herrn/Herrn Matthiae desz Andern […] Einzuges (Breslau: [n. pub.], [1611]) 1613 [London], The Magnificent Marriage of Two Great Princes (London: by T. C. for W. Barley, 1613) 1613 [Heidelberg], David Jocquet, Les triomphes, entrées, cartels, tournois, ceremonies et aultres magnificenes, faictes en Angleterre et au Palatinat pour le mariage et reception de Mgr. le prince Frideric V[…] et de Madame Elizabeth (Heidelberg: Gotthardt Vögelin, 1613) 1614 [Orléans], Claude Malingre, Entree magnifique du Roy, faicte en sa ville d’Orléans, le mardy huictiesme juillet, 1614 (Paris: Melchior Mondiere, 1614) 1615 [Bordeaux], Les Magnificences faites en la ville de Bordeaux à l’entrée du Roy (Paris: Anthoine du Brueil, 1615) 1619 [Lisbon], Juan Bautista Lavanha, Viage de la Católica Real Magestad del Rey Don Felipe III NS. Al Reino de Portugal I relación del solemne recibimiento que en él se le hizo (Madrid: Thomas Iunti, 1622) 1619 [Lisbon], The triumphant and sumptuous arch erected by the Company of English marchants residing in Lisbone, upon the Spanish kings entry made thereunto […](London: printed by Edward Griffin for Henry Seile, 1619) 1619 [Lisbon], Francisco de Arce, Fiestas Reales en Lisboa, Desde que el Rey nuestro señor entro [1619], Duque y marques opusculos eterarios rarírisimos, IX (Valencia: [n. pub.], 1956) 1620 [Saint Jean d’Angély], Entrée royale faict au roi en la ville de Sainct Jean d’Angely, 11 septembre mil six cent vingt (Paris: Isaac Mesnier, 1620) 1621 [Toulouse], Jean Alard, Entrée du Roy à Tolose, [1621] (Toulouse: Raim Colomiés, 1622) 1622 [Lyon], Le Soleil au signe du Lyon (Lyon: Jean Jullieron, 1623)

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1622 [Arles], Pierre Saxi, Entrée de Louis XIII […] dans sa ville d’Arles, le 29 octobre, 1622 (Avignon: J. Bramereau, 1623) 1622 [Avignon], [Annibal Gelliot], La Voye de laict ou le chemin des Héros au palais de la gloire (Avignon: J. Bramereau, 1622) 1622 [Aix], Jean de Galaup de Chasteuil, Discours sur les arcs triomphaux dressés en la ville d’Aix à l’heureuse arrivée du très-chrétien, très-grand et très-juste Monarque Louis XIII, Roy de France et de Navarre (Aix: Jean Tholosain, 1624) 1622 [Marseille], L’entrée de Louis XIII dans Marseille le 7 novembre, 1622, ed. Marie-Claude Canova-Green, XVIIe siècle, 212, 3 (2001), 521-33 1622 [Montpellier], La réduction et triumphante entrée du Roy en sa ville de Montpellier (Paris: Paul Mansan, 1622) 1628 [Paris], Jean-Baptiste Machaud, Eloges et Discours sur la triomphante reception du Roy en sa ville de Paris (Paris: Pierre Rocolet, 1629); engravings published in Mulryne, J. R., Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), vol. II, pp. 154-81 1629 [Troyes], La joyeuse entrée du Roy en sa ville de Troyes […] le ieudy vingt cinquiesme jour de janvier 1629 (Troyes: Jean Jacquard, 1629); text also in Wagner, Marie-France, and Daniel Vaillancourt, Le Roi dans la ville: anthologie des entrées royales dans les villes françaises de province, 1615-1660 (Paris: Champion, 2001), pp. 63-126 1632 [La Rochelle], Daniel Defos, Relation de ce qui s’est passé à l’entrée de la Reyne en la ville de La Rochelle au mois de Novembre mil siz cens trente-deux (La Rochelle: Mathurin Chatruyer, 1633); text and English trans. Mulryne, J. R., Helen Watanabe O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans, 2 vols (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), vol. I, pp. 186-234 1632 [Dijon], Entrée de treshaut et très puissant prince Henri de Bourbon prince de Condé Gouverneur et Lieutenant general pour SM es Provinces de Bourgogne, Bresse et Berry, en la ville de Dijon 30 sept 1632 (Dijon: la veuve Claude Guyot, 1632) 1632 [Amsterdam], Jean Puget de la Serre, Histoire curieuse de tout ce qui s’est passé à l’entrée de la reyne mère du roy treschrestien dans les villes des Pays Bas (Antwerp: Plantin, 1632) 1634 [Copenhagen], Triumphus Nuptialis Danicus (Copenhagen: Jürgen J. Holst, 1635); text and trans. in Mulryne, J. R., Hélène Watanabe-O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans: Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe (Farnham: Ashgate, 2004), pp. 272-91 1634 [Rome], Cornelio Bentivoglio, Relatione della Famosa Festa Fatta in Roma, 25 febbraio, 1634 (Rome: appresso Filippo de Rossi, 1634) 1635 [Antwerp], Jean Caspar Gevaerts, Pompa Introitus honori Seren. Princ. Ferdinandi Austriaci Hispaniarum Infantus […] Antwerp decreta et adornata […] xiv Kal. Maii 1635 (Antwerp: Plantin, 1641–1642)

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Ménestrier, Claude François, Traité des Tournois, Joutes, Carrousels et autres spectacles publics (Lyon: Jacques Muguet, 1669) Michaud, Joseph-François, and Jean Joseph-François Poujoulat, Nouvelle collection des mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I, 13 vols (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux et cie, 1838) Monluc, Blaise de, Commentaires, in Michaud, Joseph-François, and Jean Joseph-François Poujoulat, Nouvelle collection des mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I, 13 vols (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux, 1838), Series I, vol. 7, pp. 1-383 North, Sir Thomas, Plutarch’s Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans [1579], 7 vols (London: David Nutt, 1895) Paradin, Claude, Devises héroïques (Lyon: Jean de Tournes, 1557; reprint Scolar Press, 1971) Pascal, Blaise, Pensées, opuscules et lettres, ed. Philippe Sellier (Paris: Classiques Gallimard, 2010) Perefixe, Hardouin de, Histoire du roi Henri le Grand (Lyon: J. M. Banet, 1812) Pluvinel, Antoine de, Le manège royal (Paris: G. Le Noir, 1623) La publication des emprises du tournoy qui doibt estre à Paris ville capitale du royaume de France, pour la solennité des tresheureux mariages du Roy Catholique, avec madame Elizabeth fille aisnée du Roy tres chrestien. Et du Duc de Savoye avec Marguerite de France (Lyon: Benoist Rigaud, 1559) Quintilian, L’Instruction de l’Orateur (Paris: Gregoire Dubuis, 1918) Rabelais, François, Sciomachie, in Oeuvres complètes, 2 vols (Paris: Garnier, 1962) Rabutin, François de, Commentaires des dernières guerres, in Michaud, Joseph-François, and Jean Joseph-François Poujoulat, Nouvelle collection des mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I, 13 vols (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux, 1838), Series I, vol. 7, pp. 387-610 Registres et délibérations du Bureau de la ville de Paris, vols I and XIV (Paris, Imprimerie nationale, 1908) Ronsard, Pierre de, Oeuvres complètes, eds Jean Céard, Daniel Ménager, and Michel Simonin, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, 2 vols (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1994) Rosset, François de, Le Romant des Chevaliers de la Gloire (Paris: La veuve Pierre Bertaud, 1612) Salvatori, Andrea, Guerra d’Amore: festa del serenissimo gran duca de Toscano, Cosimo secondo, fatta in Firenze il carnevale del 1615 (Florence: Z. Pignoni, 1615) Senault, J.-F., De l’usage des passions [1641] (Paris: Fayard, 1987) Sorbin, Arn, Regret de la France. Sur les misères des presents troubles de l’an Mil cinq cens soixante sept (Paris: Guillaume Chaudière, [1568]) Tavannes, Gaspard de Saulx, Seigneur de, Mémoires, in Michaud, Joseph-François, and Jean Joseph-François Poujoulat, Nouvelle collection des mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I, 13 vols (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux, 1838), Series I, vol. 8, pp. 18-434 The Triumphs of Charles V (British Library, Additional manuscripts 33733) Valturin, Robert, [Valturius], Les douze livres touchant la discipline militaire, trans. Loys Meigret (Paris: Charles Perier, 1555) Verstegen, Richard, Le théâtre des Cruautez des hérétiques de nostre temps, ed. Frank Lestringant (Paris: Editions Champion, 1995) Vieilleville, François de Scepeaux, sire de, Mémoires, in Michaud, Joseph-François, and Jean Joseph-François Poujoulat, Nouvelle collection des mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France, Series I, 13 vols (Paris: Imprimerie d’Edouard Proux, 1838), Series I, vol. 9, pp. 9-400

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III Catalogues La Toison d’Or, Catalogue of the Bruges Exhibition, 1962 (Bruges: Lannoo-Tielt, 1962) Ortiz, Antonio Dominguez, Concha Herrero Canetero, and José A. Godoy (eds), Resplendence of the Spanish Monarchy: Renaissance Tapestries and Armor from the Patrimonio Nacional (New York: Harry N. Adams Inc., 1992) Fucikova, Eliska, James M. Bradburne, Beket Bukovinska, Jaroslava Hansenblasova, Lumomir Konecny, Ivan Muchka, and Michal Sronek (eds), Rudolf II and Prague: The Court and the City (London: Thames and Hudson, 1997) Soly, Hugo, and Johan van de Wiele (eds), Carolus: Charles V, 1500–1558, Exhibition at Ghent, 6 November 1999–30 January 2000 (Ghent: Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 2000) La Fiesta en la Europa de Carlos V, Exhibition at Sevilla, 19 sept. - 26 nov. 2000. Sociedad Estatal Para la Conmemoracion de los centarios de Felipe y Carlos V (Sevilla, 2000) van Gricken, Joris, Ger Lugten, and Jan van der Stock (eds), La gravure à la Renaissance, Exhibition in Leuven, 26 April – 9 June 2013 2 vols (Leuven: Bibliothèque royale de Belgique, 2013) Gottardo, Ketty (ed.), Antoine Caron: Drawing for Catherine de’ Medici, Exhibition at The Courtauld Gallery, London, 18 January to 15 April 2018 (London: Paul Holberton Publishing, 2017)

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Terry-Fritsch, Allie, and Erin Felicia Labbie (eds), Beholding Violence in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012) Thofner, Margit, ‘Marrying the City Mothering the Country: Gender and Visual Conventions in Johannes Bochius’s Account of the Joyous Entry of the Archduke Albert and the Infanta Isabella into Antwerp’, Oxford Art Journal, 22 (1) (1999), 3-27 Thofner, Margit, ‘“Domina et princeps proprietaria”: The Ideal of Sovereignty in the Joyous Entries of the Archduke Albert and the Infanta Isabella’, in Werner, Thomas, and Luc Duerloo (eds), Albert and Isabella (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), pp. 55-66 Thofner, Margit, A Common Art: Urban Ceremonial in Antwerp and Brussels during and after the Dutch Revolt (Zwolle: Waanders Publishers, 2007) Tosi, Mario, Il torneo di Belvedere in Vaticano e i tornei in Italia nel Cinquecento: documenti e tavole (Rome: Edizioni de Storia e Letteratura, 1945) Trachtenberg, Marvin, Dominion of the Eye: Urbanisation, Art and Power in Early Modern Florence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997) Truffi, Riccardo, Giostre e cantori di giostre, Studi e ricerche di Storia e di letteratura (Rocca. S. Casciano: Licinio Cappelli, [1911]) Turrel, Denise, Le Blanc de France; la construction des signes identitaires pendant les guerres de religion (1562–1628) (Geneva: Droz, 2005) Van Bruaene, Anne-Laure, ‘A wonderfull trymfe, for the wynnyng of a pryse’: Guilds, Ritual, Theater and the Urban Network in the Southern Low Countries’, Renaissance Quarterly, 59 (2) (2006), 374-405 Van Bruaene, Anne-Laure, ‘Spectacle and Spin for a Spurned Prince: Civic Strategies in the Entry Ceremonies of the Duke of Anjou in Antwerp, Bruges and Ghent, 1582’, Journal of Early Modern History, 11 (4-5) (2007), 263-84 van Eck, Caroline, ‘Animation and Petrifaction in Rubens’s Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi’, in Knaap, Anna C., and Michael C. J. Putnam (eds), Art, Music and Spectacle in the Age of Rubens: The Pompa Introitus Ferdinandi (Turnhout: Harvey Miller, 2013), pp. 143-65 Van Orden, Kate (ed.), Music and the Cultures of Print (New York: Garland, 2000) Van Orden, Kate, ‘Cheap Print and Street Song following the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacres of 1572’, in Van Orden, Kate (ed.), Music and the Cultures of Print (New York: Garland, 2000) pp. 271-323 Varallo, Franca, ‘Le feste per il matrimonio delle Infante (1608)’, in Masoero, Mariarosa, Sergio Mamino, and Claudio Rosso (eds), Politica e cultura nell’età di Carlo Emanuele I: Torino, Parigi, Madrid: Convegno internazionale di studi, Torino 21-24 Febbraio, 1995 (Florence: Olschki, 1999), pp. 475-91 Varallo, Franca (ed.), La Ronde. giostre, esercizi cavallereschi e loisir in Francia e Piedmonte fra Medioevo et Ottocento (Florence: Olschki, 2010) Velde, Carl van de, ‘The Labours of Hercules: A Lost Series of Printings by Frans Floris’, The Burlington Magazine, 107 ( Jan-June) (1965), 114-23 Velde, Carl van de, Frans Floris: leven en werken (Brussels: Palais des Academien, 1973) Vuilleumier-Laurens, Florence, and Daniel Russell, L’Age de l’inscription: la rhétorique du monument en Europe du XVe au XVIIe siècles (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2010) Vinestock, Elizabeth, and David Foster (eds), Writers in Conflict in Sixteenth-Century France: Essays in Honour of Malcolm Quainton (Durham: University Press, 2008)

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289

Index of Ceremonial Entries

Albert, Archduke of Austria (1559–1621) and Isabella (1566–1633) Tournai (1600): 115 Valenciennes (1600): 115, 118, 200-01 Lille (1600): 65 Charles V, Emperor (1506–1558) Bruges, as archduke (1515): 219 Antwerp (1520): 56 Seville (1526): 199 Bologna (1529): 27 Augsburg (1530): 41 Messina (1535): 64 Rome (1536): 63 Naples (1536): 64 Messina (1536): 64, 122, 124 Florence (1536): 43, 64 Nuremberg (1541): 32, 56 Antwerp (1549): 124 Charles VIII, King of France (1460–1498) Rouen (1485): 197-98 Florence (1494): 29, 43 Naples (1508): 63 Charles IX, King of France (1550–1574) Lyon (1564): 194 Toulouse (1564): 130 Toulouse (1565): 96-97 Paris (1571): 58-60, 81, 168-69, 185-86, 192, 203 La Rochelle (1573): 69 Christina of Lorraine Florence (1589): 120-21 Colonna, Marcantonio (1535–1584) Rome (1571): 51-52 Condé, Henri de Bourbon, prince de (1588–1646) Dijon (1632): 33

Edward VI, King of England (1537–1553) London (1547): 237 Elizabeth I, Queen of England (1533–1603) London (1559): 27, 124-25 Norwich (1578): 145 Elizabeth of Valois (1545–1568) Toledo (1560): 32 Ernst, Archduke (1553–1595), Governor of Antwerp (1594–1595) Antwerp (1594): 29, 42 Ferdinand, Cardinal Infant Antwerp (1635): 154 Ferdinando de’Medici (1549–1609) Pisa (1588): 151-52 Florence (1589): 120-21 Ferdinando, King of Naples (1423–1494) Naples (1443): 43, 48 Francesco de’Medici (1541–1587) Florence (1566): 174 François Ier, King of France (1494–1547) Rouen (1517): 163 François II, King of France (1544–1560) Orléans (1560): 43 François, duc d’Anjou (1555–1584) Antwerp (1582): 48 Ghent (1582): 48, 130 Henri II, King of France (1519–1559) Lyon (1548): 27, 53-55, 97, 200 Paris (1549): 25, 27, 68, 81, 176, 203 Rouen (1550): 27, 42 Henri III, King of France (1551–1589) Paris (1573): 177 Venice (1574): 132 Mantua (1574): 27, 130, 155-56 Rouen (1588): 207-08

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i n dex of cer emon ial en tr ies

Henri IV, King of France (1553–1610) Lyon (1595): 27, 125, 205-06 Moulins (1595): 122, 193 Rouen (1596): 76-77, 205 Metz (1603): 32 Henry VII, King of England (1457–1509) Worcester (1486): 129-30 James I, King of England (1566–1625) London (1604): 192-93 Juana, Queen of Portugal (1535–1573) Lisbon (1552): 150 Louis XII, King of France (1462–1515) Genova (1502): 203-04 Lyon (1507): 198 Rouen (1508): 199 Milan (1509): 29 Louis XIII, King of France (1600–1643) Bordeaux (1615): 43, 77 St Jean d’Angély (1620): 41, 118 Toulouse (1621): 120, 235-36 Aix (1622): 144-45 Arles (1622): 88-89 Avignon (1622): 114, 162-63, 169-70, 175, 188, 190 Lyon (1622): 111-12 Paris (1628): 88, 118, 126, 162, 170-71, 176, 194 Troyes (1629): 131 Louis XIV, King of France (1638–1715) Paris (1660): 221 Margaret of Austria (1480–1530) Genova (1501): 202 Margaret, Queen of Scotland (1489–1541) Edinburgh (1503): 198

Marie de Médicis, Queen of France (1575–1642) Avignon (1600): 125-27, 153-54, 193, 195, 203 Paris (1610): 207 Mary Tudor, Queen of France (1496–1533) Paris (1514): 197 Matthias, Archduke (1577–1619) Brussels (1578): 199 Maximilian I, Emperor (1459–1519) Ghent (1509): 32 Morosoni, Cardinal (1537–1596) Brescia (1591): 120, 186-87 Philip II, King of Spain (1527–1598) as Prince Philip Antwerp (1549): 164-66 Béthune (1549): 198 Lille (1549): 119 Milan (1549): 215-16 Tournai (1549): 198 Ypres (1549): 198 as King of Spain Toledo (1560): 27, 32, 151, 160, 236 Madrid (1570): 27, 40, 65, 81, 166, 168 Seville (1570): 64, 151 Lisbon (1581): 27, 64, 115 Philip III, King of Spain (1578–1621): Lisbon (1619): 42, 55, 61, 169, 230 Sigismund III, King of Poland (1587–1652) Cracow (1587): 118-19 Cracow (1592): 33 William of Orange (1533–1584) Ghent (1577): 32, 181, 227

General Index

Adrien le Croy, Burgundian commander: 50 Aedigius Petrus [Peter Gillis], Hypotheses: 56 Aelian: 187, 227 Aemilius, Emperor: 42-43 Aeneas: 55 Aeschylus: 227 Aix, entry into (1622): 144-45 Alamanni, Luigi (1495–1556), poet: 186 Alciati, Andrea (1492–1550): 160, 192, 203 Alfonso I Gonzaga (1541–1592), commissions Jason tapestries: 174 Alfonso I of Ferrara, his device: 204 allegories in tapestries: 199 as expressions of punishment: 196-200 as expressions of victory: 196-200 allegory: 27, 185-213 Allori, Alessandro (1535–1607): 192 Almathea: 61 ambivalence in the vision of triumph and defeat: 118-28 Ammianus Marcellinus: 92 Amyot, Jacques (1513–1593): 34 Angoulême, music in entry (1526): 227-28 Anne d’Autriche, Queen of France (1601– 1666): 236 entry into La Rochelle (1632): 131-32 marriage to Louis XIII: 43 Anne of Bretagne, Queen of France (1477–1514) entry into Paris (1502): 196-97 Antwerp: 29, 42, 48, 56, 120, 124, 154, 164-66 Apollo: 192 Apollonius of Rhodes (c.270–245 bc): 171 Appian: 41 Arce, Francesco de, Fiestas Reales (1619): 226 Ardent Desire: 198

Argo, Argonauts’ ship: 175 Aristotle: 227 Arles: 88-89 Audacity: 205 Augsburg, City Hall frescos: 41-42 Augsburg, Diet of, and entry of Charles V (1530): 41 Augustus, Emperor: 53, 61 Auto-da-fé (1559): 124 Avignon, entries (1600): 28, 125-27, 153-54, 193, 195, 203 (1622): 114, 157, 162-63, 169-70, 175, 188, 190, 224-25, 226 music in entry (1600): 229 music in entry (1622): 229-30 preparations for entry (1600): 244 preparations for entry (1622): 251 Balzac, Guez (1597–1654): 222 Barriffe, William (1599/1600–1643): 105 Bassompierre, François de (1579–1646): 204 Bayonne, mock siege (1565): 102 Beham, Sebald, engraver (1500–1550): 29 Belleforest, François de: 134 Bentivoglio, Giovanni (1443–1508): 92 Bellona: 61 Berlin, entry of Elector Frederick III (1667– 1713), as King of Prussia (1701): 33 Bestiality: 200 Béthune: 198 Bèze, Théodore de (1519–1605): 134 Bible, stories from: 150, 180 Binche mock siege (1549): 100-01 palace destroyed: 255-56 tournaments at: 91 triumphal arch (1549): 196

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Biondo, Flavio (1388–1463): 34, 118 Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313–1375): 186 Bochius, Johannes (1555–1609): 29, 160 (Brussels, 1599): 218 (Valenciennes, 1600): 236 Bodin, Jean (1530–1596), La République (1578): 78 Bologna Clement VIII’s visit to (1589): 122 entry (1529): 48-52 tournaments (1490) organized by Giovanni Bentivoglio: 92 Bontemps, Pierre (c.1505/10–1568/70): 138-39 Bonus eventus: 203 Bordeaux: 43, 77 Borghini, Vincenzo (1515–1580): 186, 190, 219-20, 226 Bouquet, Simon: 189, 190, 203, 219, 238-40 Bourbon, Charles de, Cardinal (1523–1596): 78-79 Boyvin, René (1525–c.1620), engraver: 174 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, sieur de (c.1540–1614): 97 Brescia entry (1591): 120, 186-87 sack of (1512): 85 Breu, Jörg (c.1475–1537), artist: 41 Bruges: 219 Bruno, Giordano (1548–1600): 169 Brussels: 27, 199 Caen, entries (1532): 81 (1588) :194 Caesar (100–44 bc) as role model: 32, 56, 227 Egyptian triumph: 41 triumph in Rome: 25 Callot, Jacques (1592–1635): 25, 142-44 etching of siege of Breda: 98-100 Calvete de Estrella (c.1520–1593): 165, 217-18, 224 Calvin, Jean (1509–1564): 225 Cambrai, Treaty of (1529): 50

Capua, battle of (1501): 124 Cardanus, Hieronymus (1501–1572): 203 Caron, Antoine (1521–1599) depiction of Charles IX: 115-17 drawings of Charles IX’s victories: 116-17, 119-20, 134 l’Histoire de la reine Arthémise: 84 Carpi, Scibec de (1530–1559), artist: 103 Carrousel (Paris 1612): 27, 204 Cartari, Vincenzo (c.1502–1569): 187, 226 cartography, as evidence of imperial aspirations: 68-72 Cateau-Cambresis, Treaty of (1559): 85 Catherine de’ Medici (1519–1589): 25, 128 Catullus: 207, 226 Caurivole, Alfonso: 186-87, 188, 216 Ceremonial Entries: 23-24, 26 see also Index of Ceremonial Entries Charity: 198, 200 Charles V, Emperor (1506–1558): 25 admiration for Hercules: 155 and Gideon 180-81 as Defender of the Faith: 51 as Hercules: 149 as Jason: 174 at war with France: 60-61 device of: 55 gifts from Ferrante Gonzaga: 180 imperialism aspirations : 53-68, 79 invasion of Province (1536): 69 portrait of: 120 tapestries celebrating victories: 72-73 victory at Goletta (1535): 63 victory at Ingoldstat (1549): 42 visit to Mantua (1530): 122 visit to Palazzo del Te: 164 Charles VIII, King of France (1470–1498) as Hercules: 150 invasion of Rome: 43 north Italian campaign: 69 Charles IX, King of France (1550–1574): 27 device of: 56, 58-59, 115 imperial aspirations:52 journey through France (1564–1566): 61 military skills: 106

g enera l index

present offered by the city of Paris (1571): 132 with globe of the world: 61 Chiabrera, Gabriella (1551–1638): 90 Christian IV, King of Sweden (1577–1648) coronation (1596): 93 as Hercules in marriage procession (1634): 158 Church: 197 Cicero: 220-21, 227 citizens, skilled in riding: 81 civil wars: 88-89 Claude, Queen of France (1499–1524): 14950, 189, 198, 204 her device: 204 Clemency (Clementia): 118, 144, 162, 194, 199 Clement VII, Pope (1478–1534): 27, 48, 73 Clement VIII, Pope (1536–1605) visit to Bologna (1589): 122 Cleopatra, effigy of: 41 Cock, Hieronymus (1518–1570), tapestry designs: 73, 150, 181 Colonna, Francesco (1433/4–1527), Hypnerotomachia: 190-91, 203, 204-06 Colyn, Alexander (1527/9–1612), sculptor: 138 Comes, Natalis (1520–1582): 147, 226 Commynes, Philippe de (1447–1511): 124 Concord (Concordia): 130, 187, 188, 192, 203 Conegrani, Giovan Pietro, Mantuan ambassador: 93, 105-06 Constantia: 199 Constantine, Emperor, arch of: 34, 64 Coornhert, Dick (1522–1590), tapestry designs: 73 Copenhagen, jousts at (1596): 93 Corrozet, Gilles (1510–1568), Hecatongraphie (1540): 202-03 Cosimo I (1519–1574), tapestries of: 73 D’Aubigné, Agrippa (1552–1632): 79, 133, 239, 242, 252 Dante, De Monarchia: 55, 186, 226 David, King: 148, 180 De la Vigne, André (c.1470–1526) 29

De Thou, Jacques-Auguste (1553–1617): 25, 26, 43, 56, 78-79, 93, 134 Hieracosophion: 128-29 Dee, John (1527–1608/9), General and Rare Monuments (1577): 72 Dell’Abate, Nicolò (1509 or 1512–1571): 60 Desprez, François (c.1540–c.1580), engraver: 69 Dijon, tournaments at (1564): 106-07 Diligence: 188, 198 Dio Cassius: 34, 41 Discord: 130 Divine Love: 180 Dorat, Jean (1508–1588): 168-69, 185-86, 220 Du Bartas, Saluste (1544–1590), poet: 158, 226 Du Bellay, Guillaume (1491–1543): 69 Du Bellay, Martin (1495–1559): 124 Du Chesne, André (1584–1640): 154, 156, 157 Du Choul, Guillaume (c.1496–1560): 187 Du Pérac, Etienne (c.1525–1604), engraver: 34 Dubois, François, painter (1529–1584): 25 Dürer, Albrecht (1471–1528): 25 Arch of Honour: 36 Dynasties, representations of: 65-67 ekphrasis: 224-25 Elizabeth I, Queen of England (1533–1603): 27, 72 portrait of: 72 Elizabeth Stuart, wife of Elector Palatine (1596–1662): 77-78 emblems: 186, 187, 189-90, 196-90, 196-200 Empire, aspirations for, 53-68 definitions of: 53 phantom of: 53-80 succession from Julius Caesar: 63 entries disturbances Antwerp, 1549: 254 Antwerp, 1582: 253 Genova, 1548: 253 La Rochelle, 1632: 253 Orléans, 1576: 254 St Jean d’Angély, 1620: 252-53

295

2 96

gen er a l i n dex

interpreters of imagery of: 254-55 modern reconstruction of: 256-57 princely indifference to: 255 storm damage Antwerp, 1549: 251-52 Arles, 1622: 251 Avignon, 1622: 251 Lyon, 1622: 251 Norwich, 1578: 252 Envy: 200 ephemeral art: 26 Erasmus, Desiderius (1466–1536): 160 Erik IV, King of Sweden, Hercules armour: 149 Ernst, Archduke, satisfaction at reception into Antwerp (1594: 257 Estates General (Blois, 1577): 88 Eternal Empire: 205 Eternity: 194 Euripides: 227 Faith: 151, 188, 193, 194, 198, 199, 200 Fame: 55, 151, 156, 162, feats of arms: 82 Federigo de Montefeltro (1410–1482): 204 Félibien, André (1619–1695): 218 Felicitas: 175, 176, 187 Ferdinand I, King of Hungary and Bohemia (1509–1564) coronation (1527): 43 Ferdinando, King of Naples (1423–1494): 43, 48 ferocity, of war: 130 Fides: 199 fireworks: 162 Florence, jousts at (1579): 93 Piazza della Signoria, festival: 82 processions of John the Baptist: 118 tournament Guerra d’Amore (1615): 96 Floris, Franz (1517–1570): 150, 164-67, 220, 224 Fall of the Rebel Angels: 165, 167 painting of Victory: 109-11 Flötner, Peter (c.1490–1546): 56 Force: 151, 192, 194, 198, 199, 205

Fornovo, battle of (1495): 124 Fortitude: 199, 204, 205 Fortune (Fortuna): 42-43, 61, 91, 187 Fourquevaux, le sieur de, Les instructions sur le Faict de la Guerre: 89 Francken, Ambrosius (1544–1618): 199 François Ier, King of France (1494–1547): 50 edicts: 129 funeral monument of: 138–39 imperial aspirations of: 53 François, duc d’Anjou (1555–1584): 48, 130 as Gideon: 181-83 as the Sun: 208-09, 210-11 Frederick III (1667–1713) 33 Frederick V, Elector Palatine (1596–1632): 77-78 as Aeneas/Jason: 78 as Jason: 175 as Scipio Africanus: 92 French bodyguards: 29 Fronsperger, Leonard (c.1520–1575), Kriegsbuch (1566): 109, 112-13, 134 Gattimari, Mercurimo (1465–1530): 55 Geiskofler (Paris, 1572): 239, 240 Generosity: 205 Geneva: 202 Genova: 50 Doge’s palace: 163, 164 mock siege (1548): 100 visits to: 28, 202, 203-04 Genochi, Giovanni Maria, De Auspicatissimus Nuptos: 78 Ghent: 32, 48, 130, 181-83, 227 preparations for entry (1549): 243 Gheyn, Jacob de (1565–1629): 105 Gideon, man of God, 27, 178-83 Giovio, Paolo (1483–1552): 50, 129 Giraldi, Lelio Gregorio (1479–1552): 147, 226 Giulio Romano (c.1492–1546): 122, 163-64, 220 Glory:162, 175, 199 Golden Age: 53-56 Golden Fleece: 27, 171-77 Goletta, Charles victory at (1535): 63

g enera l index

Gonzaga, Ferrante (1507–1557), gifts to Charles V: 180 Good Counsel: 188 Goujon, Jean (c.1510–c.1565):190-91 Grapheus, Cornelius (1482–1558): 165, 219, 254 Grief: 130 Gringoire, Pierre (c.1475–1538): 189 Grotius, Hugo (1583–1645): 128 Grotto, Rouen (1550): 156 Gualterotti, Raffaello (1543–1638): 120-21 Guise, Charles Ier, duc de (1588–1640): 204 Guise, Henri, duc de (1550–1588): 25 n.9, 26 n.10, 78-79, 154 Heemskerck, Marten van (1498–1574), artist and engraver: 34, 181, 199 engraver of the Victories of Charles Quint: 73 Heere, Lucas de (1534–1584): 181, 243 Heidelberg, festivities in: 78 reception of Henri III (1573): 133 tournament in (1613) 27 Henri II, king of France (1519–1559): 25, 27, 53-54, 60, 68, 81, 97, 176 as Caesar, 42 as Hercules Gallicus: 160 as Jason: 175 as the Sun: 208 at war with Charles V: 60-61 coronation of (1547): 160, 206 device of: 56-57, 204 imperial aspirations of: 53 journey through France (1548–1550): 60 military skills: 105-06 Henri III, king of France (1551–1589): 24, 25, 27, 48, 53-55, 60, 68, 81, 97, 130, 132, 155-56, 176, 177 device of: 60 pamphlets against: 88 reception at Heidelberg (1573): 133 visit to Palazzo del Te: 164 Henri IV, King of France (1553–1610): 28, 32, 76-77, 97-99, 122, 200, 203, 205, 206-08 as Hercules: 148-49, 150 funeral celebrations (1610): 139-42

reader of Plutarch: 34 Henry VII, King of England (1457–1509): 55, 129-30 Henry VIII, King of England (1491–1547): 55 as Hercules: 149 scorched earth policy: 124 siege of Thérouane: 69 tournament at Westminster (1511): 93 triumphs at Tournai (1513): 43 Hercules: 197 columns of: 55, 60 death of: 162-63 Labours of: 27, 126, 147-63, 203, 205-06 Hercules (Gallicus), Bourbon dynasty origin: 158-61 Hercules (Lybian), Habsburg dynasty origin: 158 Heresy: 120 heretics, burning of: 25 Hesiod: 151, 187 hieroglyphs: 186, 187, 189-90, 191-92, 196-200 used for dynastic claims: 202-06 History: 118 Hogenberg, Nicolaus (c.1500–1539): 157-58 Holy Spirit: 180 Homer: 151, 187, 193, 227 Honour: 53, 88, 175, 200 Hope: 198, 200, 204 Hopfer, Daniel (c.1470–1536), engraver: 118 Horace: 151, 227 Hydra: 152-56 Hyginus: 227 hyperbole 28, 215-33 ideas: 186 Ignorance (Ignorantia): 194, 200 imaginary worlds: 25 imperial aspirations: 68-77 shattered by war: 76-77 imperial dream, appropriation of: 77-80 Imprese: 186, 187 used for dynastic claims: 202-06 Ingoldstadt, Charles V’s victory at (1549): 42 representation of siege (1549): 100

297

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gen er a l i n dex

Inscriptions: 32, 53, 64, 181, 188-89, 194, 196200, 206, 237 Intelligence: 186 Intermet, Sauvaire (1573–1659): 229-30 Isabella, Archduchess: 200-01 James I and VI, king of England (1566– 1625): 27 n.15, 192-93 Jannequin (c.1485–1558) La Guerre: 153-54, 229, 244 Janus, temple of (Antwerp 1635): 130 Jason: 27, 171-77 Jason and the Golden Fleece: 147, 171-79 Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre (1528– 1572): 128 Jesuits, influence of: 79, 157, 190, 212-13, 221-23 designers of festivals 28 Jocquet, David: 175 Jodelle, Etienne (1532–1573), poet: 175-76 John Frederick I, Duke of Saxony (1503– 1554): 41 Jonson, Ben (1572–1637): 192-93 Juno: 65 Jupiter, triumph over giants: 27, 55, 61, 65, 163-71 Justice (Justitia): 126, 193, 194, 198, 199, 204, 205 L’Estoile, Pierre de (1546–1611): 143-44, 215 La Frery, Antoine (1512–c.1577), engraver: 34 La Marche, Olivier de (1425–1518): 171 La Noue, François de (1531–1591), Discours militaires (1587): 88 La Rochelle: 131-32, 157, 236 fall of (1628): 79 preparations for entry (1632): 243 siege of (1573): 69 Labour: 197 Laval, Antoine de: 122, 189-90, 193, 206, 207, 219, 236-37, 243 Le Clerc, Jean (c.1560–1622): 80 Le Cureau, Guillaume (c.1595–1648): 236 Lefevre, Raoul, Travaux d’Hercule (1468): 148, 158 Leo X, Pope (1475–1521), as Hercules: 149

Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519): 204, 220 Leoni, Leone, portrait of Charles V: 120 Lepanto, battle of (1571): 51, 65, 102 Léry, Jean de (1536–1613): 128 Lille: 65, 119 Feast of the Pheasant (1454): 171 Lisbon: 27, 28, 42, 55, 64, 115, 150-51, 169, 230 Livy: 193, 227 London: 27, 77, 124-25, 237, 238 mock siege (1550): 101 music in entry (1533): 228 preparations for entry (1603): 242 López de Hoyos: 40, 65, 166, 168, 187 Lorenzo de’ Medici, the Magnificent (1449–1492): 226 paintings of the labours of Hercules: 149 Louis XII, King of France (1462–1515): 29, 189, 198, 203-04 device of: 197-98, 203-04 Louis XIII, King of France (1600–1643): 41, 77, 88-89, 114, 118, 120, 126, 131, 144-45, 162, 169-70, 171, 175, 176, 188, 190, 194, 211-12, 235-36 as Hercules (1622): 157 as Jason: 176 as the Sun: 208 as universal monarch: 79 martial training: 84-87 Louis XIV, King of France (1638–1715): 33, 218, 221 Lucan: 193 Lucian: 160 Lyon: 27, 28, 53-55, 97, 125, 176, 194, 198, 200, 211-12, 205-06 music in entry (1595): 228-29 preparations for entry (1595): 244-45 Machaud, Jean-Baptiste (1591–1640): 237 Madrid: 27, 40, 65, 166, 168 dances in entry (1599): 228 military display: 81 music in entry (1560): 228 Magnanimity (Magnanimitas): 144, 198, 199, 204 Magnificence: 162, 194

g enera l index

Majesty: 194 Manilius: 193, 207 Mantegna, Andrea (1431–1506): 25 Triumphs of Caesar: 35-37, 40, 44-45 Mantua, city of: 25, 27, 130, 155-56 visit of Charles V (1530): 73, 122 Margaret of Austria (1486–1538): 32 tapestries depicting Hercules: 149 Margaret Tudor, Queen of Scotland (1489–1541): 198 Marie de Médicis (1575–1642) 28, 125-27, 142-43, 153-54, 193, 195, 203, 207 Marignano, battle of (1515): 124, 129 Marino, Giovan Battista (1569–1625): 90 Mariotti, Domenico (Rome 1571): 216 Marot, Jean (1463–c.1526): 32 Martial: 227 Martin, Jean (d.1533): 190, 203 Mary of Hungary (1505–1558), commissions tapestries: 72 Masquerade: 175 Massacre of St Bartholomew (1572): 25, 128, 253 Matthias, Archduke (1577–1619): 199 Matthieu, Pierre (1563–1621): 125, 157, 158, 212, 217, 219, 244-45 Maximilian I, Emperor (1459–1519): 32 Arch of Honour: 25 as Hercules: 149 chivalry and war: 82-84 mausoleum of: 138 succession of Empire: 63 tapestries depicting Hercules: 149 triumphal procession: 25, 36-39 Weisskünig (1513): 82-83 Maximilian II (1529–1576): 79 Hercules armour: 149 Medleman, Nicolaus, printer and publisher: 42, 100 Meigret, Louis, translator: 34 Mellini, Domenico (Florence, 1566): 216-17 Memorials of Achievement: 139-45 Menestrier, Claude François (1631–1705): 91 Merchandise: 197 Mercury: 130-31

Messina: 32, 64, 122, 124 Metz: 32, 97-99 music in entry (1603): 228 preparations for entry (1603): 244 Mexico, map of (1525): 69 Mielich, Hans (1516–1573), artist: 100 Milan: 29, 215-16 mock siege (1509): 100 tournaments at (1507): 90 military drills: 104-07 Bristol (1574): 104 Nijmegen (1613): 105 Norwich (1578): 104-05 Sandwich (1573): 104 military entry and display: 27, 29-52, 53-107 military spectacle: 81-107 mock battles: 27 Modena, Nicolas de (1490–1569): 149 Molyneux, Emery, creator of globes (1592, 1594): 72 Monluc, Blaise de (c.1502–1577): 207 Montaigne, Michel de (1533–1592): 224, 230 Montcontour, battle of (1569): 24 Montpellier: 43 Morosoni, Cardinal (1537–1596): 120, 186-87 Moulins: 122, 193 preparations for entry (1595): 243 Mühlberg, battle of (1547): 73 Muses: 192 music, as persuasion: 225-33 Mustafa, Celalzade, Secretary and Chancellor to Suleyman: 64 mythological representations, 147-83 Naples: 43, 63, 64 Naumachia: 27, 102-04 Lyon (1548): 102 Paris (1549): 103 Rouen (1550): 103 La Rochelle (1588): 102-03 Florence (1589): 103 London (1613): 103 Mantua (1608): 103 Nerva, Emperor, coins of: 187 New World: 69

299

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Nobility: 88, 197 Nogaret de la Valette, Jean Louis de, duc d’Epernon (1554–1642): 194 as the Sun: 208 Nonnos, Dionysiaca (1568): 169 North, Sir Thomas (1535–c.1601): 34 Norwich: 145 Nuremberg: 32, 56, 145 Obedience: 205 obelisks: 152-53, 190-91, 205-06 Ommegang: 28, 76, 198-99, 250 Order of the Golden Fleece: 55, 180 founded 1430/1: 171 Orléans: 43 Orley, Michel van (c.1496–1556): 150 Orpheus: 156 Ovid, tales from: 150, 168, 207, 227 paintings, as records of achievement: 138-39 Palazzo del Te: 163-64 Palladio, Andrea (1508–1580): 132 Pallas: 175 Pamphlets: 25, 133-35, 215 against Henri III: 88 Pannemaker, Willem (1514–1585), maker of tapestries: 72 Paradin, Claude (1510–1573), Devises héroïques (1557): 202-03 Paris: 25, 27, 51, 88, 93, 118, 126, 168-69, 170-71, 176, 177, 185-86, 189, 196-97, 197, 203, 207 ship Argo, device of the city (1549): 176 tournaments at: 90 Pascal, Blaise (1623–1662) 33 Pasquino: 51 Paul III, Pope (1468–1549): 193-94 Paulus Aemilius, Emperor, his triumph: 34 Peace: 126, 130, 188, 193, 197, 199, 200, 205 Peffenhauser, Anton (1525–1603), armourer: 157 Pellisson-Fontanier (1624–1693): 222-23 Penni, Lucca (c.1500/04–1556), artist: 103 Penz, Georg (c.1500–1550): 56 Péril, Robert (c.1485–?) engraver: 157-58 Perseus, captive king: 41

Peruzzi, Baltassari (1481–1536), designer: 63 Petrarch, Francesco ( 1304–1374), Trionfi: 34, 168, 186, 226 Philip II (King of Spain (1527–1598): 27, 32, 40, 56, 64, 65, 72, 73, 77, 81, 115, 119, 139, 151, 160, 164-66, 168, 215-16 as Jason: 174 device of : 209 funeral celebrations (1599): 139 interest in cartography: 72 military skills: 106 Protestant opposition to imperial aspirations: 78-80 tapestries of: 73 Philip, Prince: 64, 77, 119, 164-66, 198, 230 journey through Europe (1548–1549): 60, 156, 203 Philip, Duke of Burgundy (1396–1467): 171 Piety: 144, 162, 194 Pindar: 193, 227 Pisa: 151-52, 207 Plato: 227 Pliny: 34, 227 Plutarch: 28, 34, 41, 216-17 Pluvinel, Antoine de (1556–1620): 84 poetry, as persuasion: 225-33 Poland, entries into: 43 Poliziano, Angelo Ambrogini (1454–1494): 187, 226 Pollaiuolo, Antonio del (1429/33–1498): 149 Pompey as role model 32 Pope as Anti-Christ: 77 Pottre, Jan de (1549–1601): 250 Poverty: 130 princely entries, ambivalence of: 76-77 processions: 23, 53 Prudence: 188, 194, 198, 199, 204, 205 Pyrrhic, at Lyon (1548): 97 Pythagoras: 227 Quintain at Jagerndorf (1610): 107 Quintilian 28, 220-21 Rabelais, François (1483/4–1553): 101 Realities of Performance: 235-57

g enera l index

Reason: 200 Rebellion: 120 reconstruction, artistic: 53-55 Regnard, Jean, silversmith: 60 Régnier, Mathurin (1573–1630) 28, 207, 219, 223-24 Renaissance triumphs: 42-43 Renard, Simon (Rouen, 1550): 242 Repose: 130 resplendence: 215-21 Rhetoric, Chambers of: 28, 198-99 Richelieu, Cardinal (1585–1642): 131-32, 236 Richeome, Louis (1544–1615): 213, 221, 224 Roman legacy: 122-28 Roman models: 26, 27 Roman triumphs: 34, 118 Rome: 51-52, 63, 237-38 antique triumphs: 32 Belvedere courtyard, tournament (1565): 94-96 mock siege (1549): 101 preparations for entry (1536): 243 tournament Festa di Saraceno (1534): 96 tournament in (1565): 27 Romulus: 55 Ronsard, Pierre de (1524–1585): 24, 80, 105, 168-69, 174, 216, 220, 226 La Franciade: 61 Exhortation to Henri II (1558): 114-15 L’Hydre defaict (1559): 152 Rouen: 42, 76-77, 152-53, 167, 189, 197-98, 205, 207-08 Rubens, Peter Paul (1577–1640): 65-67, 114, 130-31, 154-55, 206, 220 Rudolf II, Emperor (1552–1612) portrait of: 61-62 spectacle in November 1558: 170 Ruscelli, Girolamo (d.1566): 187 Sadeler, Aegidius (1570–1629), artist: 61-62 Saint-Omer, preparations for entry (1549): 243-44 Sancerre, siege of (1573): 128, 252 Sapientia: 91 Saxi, Pierre (Arles, 1622): 217-18

Scève, Maurice (c.1501–c.1560): 102-03, 219 Scipio Africanus as role model 32 triumph of: 122 Security: 130 Selim, Ottoman emperor (1494–1520): 51 Septimus Severus, Emperor: 53 arch of: 34 medal of: 187 Serlio, Sebastiano (1475–c.1544): 190 Severitas: 194 Seville: 64, 151, 179, 199 sieges: 27, 97-103 Sigismund III King of Poland (1587–1652): 33 Silvestre, Israël (1621–1691), engraver: 144 Solomon, King: 148, 180 Spanish Armada: 72 Spanish bodyguard 32 spoils of war: 118-19 St Jean d’Angély: 41, 118 preparations for entry (1620): 242-43 Statius: 193 Strife: 130 Stuttgart festivals as Protestant display (1609): 77 jousts at (1616): 92 Suetonius: 34, 53 Suidas: 193 Suleyman the Magnificent (1494–1566) imperial aspirations of: 53, 61, 64 Sun, symbol of power: 130, 207-13 Superbia: 194 symbolic images: 185-213 symbolism 27, 185-213 Symeoni, Gabriel (1509–1570): 56 tapestries, as records of achievement: 138-39 as evidence of Imperial aspirations: 72-77 Tavannes, Gaspard de Saulx, seigneur de (1509–1575): 79, 106-07, 133, 160, 162 on value of tournaments: 89 Temperance: 204 Temple of Janus (Antwerp, 1635): 248-50 Temple of Peace (Antwerp, 1594): 245-47

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Theocritus: 226, 227 Thiry, Léonard (1490–1550), artist: 172-73, 174 Thucidides: 227 Tiberius Claudius Caesar: 187 Tibullus: 207, 227 Time: 55 Tintoretto (1518–1594): 132 Titian (c.1488/90–1576), portrait of Charles VI: 73 Titus, arch of: 64 Toledo: 27, 32, 151, 160, 236 music in entry (1560): 228 Tortorel and Pellissin, engravings (1570) 27, 134-37 Toulouse: 96-97, 120, 130, 134-37, 235-36 Tournai: 115, 198 preparations for entry (1513): 251 triumph at (1513): 43 tournaments: 27, 204 and Chivalry: 82-97 for double marriages (1559): 85 Rome (1565): 204 Tours: 210 Trajan, Emperor, column of: 34, 122-23 Tranquillity: 130 triumphal arches: 196 Lisbon (1619): 230-32 Lyon (1622): 239, 241 Trente (1549): 205 Paris (1549): 82 triumphal chariots: 60, 200, 238-39 Troy, destruction of: 148 Troyes: 131, 237 Tunis, accounts of victory at: 119 routing of Turks at (1535): 64-65 Tunstall, Cuthbert (1474–1559): 55 Turin, jousting (1608): 90 Turks: 25, 42, 50-51, 53 fear of: 119 shown defeated: 61 vanquished: 109 Urbino, mock siege (1517): 100

Vaga, Perino del (1501–1547), painter: 163 Valenciennes: 115, 118, 160-61, 163, 200-01 Valeriano Pierio (1477–1560): 151, 168, 187, 188, 203, 227 Valerius Flaccus: 171 Valladier, André (1565–1638): 125-27, 153-54, 193, 195, 203, 212-13, 217-18, 221-22, 223, 224, 238-39 Valturius, Robertus [Robert Valturin]: 34 Van der Borcht, Petrus (c.1540–1608) engraver: 29 Van Haecht (active 1565): 250 Vasari, Giorgio (1511–1574): 164, 192 Venice: 132 Venus: 55 Vermayen, Jean (c.1504–1559), artist: 72 Veronese (c.1528–1588): 132 Verstegen, Richard (c.1556–1640) 27, 135, 138 Vespasian and Titus, double entry into Rome: 118 Vico, Enea (1523–1567), engraver: 73 victory: 61, 118, 119, 144, 156 representations of: 109-45 Vielleville, François de Scepeaux, sire de (1509–1571): 81 Vienna siege of (1529): 42, 50, 64 map of siege: 69, 100 mock siege (1563): 101 Vigenère, Blaise de (1523–1596): 132, 164 Vigilance: 204, 205 Villena, Enrico de (1384–1434): 151 violence and victory: 109-45, 200 endemic in Europe: 23-24 on tapestries: 147-48 Virgil, Fourth Eclogue and Aeneid, as inspiration, 53-55, 168, 193, 207, 226, 227 Virgin Mary: 188 Virtue: 53, 88, 151, 186, 200 Vitruvius: 220 Vittoria Perpetua: 203 Vos, Martin de (1532–1609), drawings: 200, 236 Vredeman de Vries, Hans (1527–c.1607): 186

g enera l index

Vulson, Marc de, sieur de La Colombière, Le vrai théâtre d’honneur (1648): 89-91, 96 war: 197 depicted in art and poetry: 114-18 taste for scenes of: 128-38 Wars of Religion: 152-53 Westminster, enchanted castle at (1509): 55 mock siege (1524/25): 100 Whitehall, banqueting hall: 154-55

Wierix, Hieronymus (1533–1619), engraver: 199 William of Orange (1533–1584): 32, 48, 181, 227 Wisdom: 144 Worcester: 129-30 Ypres: 198 Zodiac, in Mantua (1522/1524): 162 signs of: 65

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