Fluctuating Alliances: Art, Politics, and Diplomacy in the Modern Era 9783110604894, 9783110606416, 2021935536

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Fluctuating Alliances

Contact Zones

Editors Lars Blunck, Bénédicte Savoy, Avinoam Shalem

Volume 6

Fluctuating Alliances

Art, Politics, and Diplomacy in the Modern Era

Editor Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

This publication was generously supported by a Ramón y Cajal project (2017-22131) “Academias artísticas, diplomacia e identidad de España y Portugal en la Roma de la primera mitad del siglo XVIII” funded by the FSE/Agencia Estatal de Investigación (Spain). It has also received support by the department of Kunstgeschichte der Moderne at the Technische Universität (Berlin).

ISBN 978-3-11-060489-4 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-060641-6 ISSN 2196-3746 Library of Congress Control Number: 2021935536 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2021 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover illustration: Medal commemorating the Treaty of Rastatt and Baden, designed and produced in Nuremberg. Silver. Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna, Numismatic Collection, MK 1365bb. KHM-Museumsverband Typesetting: Satzstudio Borngräber, Dessau Roßlau Printing and binding: Beltz Bad Langensalza GmbH, Bad Langensalza www.degruyter.com

Contents Introduction Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira From a Pact to Rupture and Vice-versa Changing Alliances in the Arts in the Modern Age 

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War and Peace Francisco Zamora Rodríguez Micro-conflicts and Reputation within Areas of “neutral” Ports during the War of the Spanish Succession   11 Anna Lisa Schwartz Iuguntur Iuppiter et Sol Allegorical Design of Medals Commemorating the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden (1714)   27 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira Felicitas Duplex A Vieira Lusitano’s Medal Celebrating the Hispano-Portuguese Double-Wedding of 1729   43

Jesuits and Diplomacy Lise Puyo The Huron-Wendat Wampum Belt at Chartres Indigenous Negotiations with the Divine   57 Mar García Arenas Refulgit Sol et Concordia Political and Diplomatic Implications of the Reconciliation between Rome and Lisbon through the Art Medals (1770) 

 77

VI 

 Contents

Negotiating with Faith Amanda van der Drift Picturing Politics and Diplomacy King Francis I, Saint John the Baptist and the Franco-Ottoman Alliance 

 93

Iris Haist A Catholic Crown made of Marble and Paper The Funeral Monuments for Maria Clementina Sobieska and James III as an Instrument of Representation of the Catholic Church   107

Court and Diplomatic Celebrations Philippa Woodcock L’Ambition de l’Espagnol Fireworks and Frontiers in Early Bourbon Paris 

 127

Danièle Lipp Changing Alliances and their Impact on Charles III of Habsburg’s Royal Music Chapel and its Musicians in Barcelona (1705–1713)   145 Authors 

 157

Picture Credits  Index 

 163

 161

Introduction

Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

From a Pact to Rupture and Vice-versa Changing Alliances in the Arts in the Modern Age During the Christmas of 1721 in Rome preparations for a marriage celebration were underway—that of Luis Prince of Asturias and heir to the Spanish throne, (son of Phillip V and his first wife Maria Luisa of Savoy), and the young Isabel of Orleans, (daughter of the regent of France Phillip II of Orleans and of Maria Francisca of Bourbon). This union was a symbol of peace between the two crowns and would be formalized with a lavish celebration in the so-called Island of Pheasants in the Bidasoa river that marks the borderline between France and Spain. On 9 January 1722 the exchange of princesses took place; Isabel of Orleans left her country at the same time that the eldest daughter of Phillip V and Elizabeth Farnese, the very young Mariana Victoria was headed to Paris to wed the Dauphin, future Louis XV. However, the marriages were never consummated, and the relations between the two monarchies were put to test. In the Palazzo di Spagna, seat of the Spanish embassy before the Holy See and occupied at the time by Cardinal Francesco Acquaviva (1665–1725), preparations for the wedding celebrations had been initiated; the splendor was intended to remind the people of Rome of the grand festivities that had been held in that palace prior to the War of Succession. After the departure in 1709 of the Duke of Uceda (the last Bourbon ambassador to Rome during the war) and his subsequent change of allegiance, the building had become the object of discussion among successive imperial envoys of Archduke Charles, who, presuming to be the legitimate ambassadors of the Spanish Hapsburgs lay claim to it. This situation led to the presence in Rome of rival embassies of the same crown and ultimately in the closing of the palace.1 The building became the first trench line of the Bourbons in the Pontifical City, in a mission headed by the legate Antonio Molines to prevent it from being occupied by the imperials.2 In those turbulent times it was obvious that the festive apparatus of the Spanish embassy was destined to languish; the palace and it adjacent square which had served

1 Miguel Ángel Ochoa Brun, Embajadas rivales: la presencia diplomática de España en Italia durante la Guerra de Sucesión, Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2002, p. 89; Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira, Juan V de Portugal, Felipe V de España y la Roma de Clemente XI: imagen, representación y política, in: José Martínez Millán, Félix Labrador Arroyo e Filipa Valido (eds), ¿Decadencia o reconfiguración?. Las monarquías de España y Portugal en el cambio de siglo (1640–1724), Madrid: Polifemo, pp. 237– 254, p. 241 ff. 2 David Martín Marcos, Jose Molines, un catalán al servicio de Felipe V en Roma durante la Guerra de Sucesión española, in: Pedralbes 28 (2008), pp. 249–262.

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 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

as the sounding board of Spanish diplomacy in Rome had lost its raison d’être.3 With the appointment as Spanish ambassador in 1716 of Cardinal Francesco Acquaviva, member of an old family from Atri loyal to Phillip V, the slow process of recuperating the former splendor of the palace began, as well as the reconstruction of the Spanish party, which had been very badly affected during the years of the war.4 Restoring the palace’s function as a focal point of the Spanish monarchy’s celebrations took a long time, and the Franco-Spanish weddings of 1721 was the first clear manifestation of its recovery. Ambassador Acquaviva had Domenico Paradisi create the festive apparatus for the Piazza di Spagna that would symbolize the union.5 A hexagonal temple was set up out with the arms of both monarchs in the second level, above which a tiered structure surmounted by a double throne where two sitting allegories of France and Spain were displayed, while two angelic beings holding crowns were assisted by Eros. At the feet of both allegories, and shaking hands in a clear evocation to dexiosis, were the personifications of the four continents offering their bounty to Spain and France. Opposite, an image of Heresy and another of Islam were depicted fleeing from the union of the two powerful crowns, represented by the allegory of Faith and Hercules who were killing the hydra of Lerna. Two columns showing the quintessential Spanish motto “Plus Ultra” flanked the structure. The ephemeral structure (fig. 1), which due to bad weather remained in situ longer than planned before it was set on fire, was intended to transmit a strong message of unity between the former enemies, France and Spain. The use of dexiosis was one of the clearest iconographic images for a public who was unlikely to be educated in diplomatic subtleties, but who certainly understood the allegorical significance of the two crowns shaking hands. This visual message of the new alliance between the two powerful Bourbon kings is one of many examples found in visual arts and demonstrates the changing politics among the powers of the Modern Age. The role of artforms that could be easily reproduced, like engravings, coins, etc., or works of bigger magnitude such as painting and sculpture is, in situations of conflict and peace, an aspect of great relevance not only for historians of art or culture, but also for other humanistic disciplines, as it provides a means to study different aspects of the use

3 Montserrat Moli Frigola, Palacio de España: centro del mundo. Ingresos triunfales, teatro y fiestas, in: Marcello Fagiolo y María Luisa Madonna (eds.), Il Barocco Romano e l’Europa, Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, 1992, pp. 729–769. 4 Maximiliano Barrio Gozalo, La embajada de España en Roma a principios del Setecientos. El cardenal Francesco Acquaviva d’Aragona (1716–1725), in: Roma moderna e contemporánea XV (2007), pp. 293–325. 5 Marcello Fagiolo, Il Settecento e l’Ottocento: Corpus delle feste a Roma/2, Rome: De Luca, 1997, p. 42; Luca Antonio Chracas, Diario Ordinario di Roma, 1722, nº 697, pp.  22–28; Mario Gori Sassoli, Della Chinea e di altre macchine di gioia. Apparati Architettonici per fuochi d’artificio a Roma nel Settecento, Milan: Catalogo della Mostra Roma, Istituto Nazionale per la Grafica, 1994, pp. 29–30, fig. 37.





From a Pact to Rupture and Vice-versa 

Fig. 1: Engraving, “Disegno della macchina di Fuoco […] 19. Decembre 1721”, Domenico Paradisi, 1721, Universität Bibliothek Heidelberg, sig. C 6430 Gross RES.



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of art, of manifestations of power, its impact in political discourses and propaganda, etc. This book discusses, not copiously, some of those uses, with particular attention to medals, but also to works on paper, which increases the impact of these images thanks to their easy dissemination. In the first section of the book, dedicated to “War and Peace”, Zamora examines in the first chapter from a historical perspective the context of the port city of Livorno, which despite its small size, soon became the scenario of international conflicts between great powers. The author studies micro conflicts against the backdrop of the particularities of the port, and although he does a contextualization from the 16th century onwards, he points out the tensions that arose between the supporters of Phillip V and the Archduke Charles during the War of Spanish Succession. These micro-conflicts took place in confrontations between the consuls, the Bourbon supporter Andrés de Silva and the imperialist Stefano Hermenne (later substituted by Giacomo Wheley), who oversaw mediations between those involved, the local government and the foreign powers they represented. The escalation of violence, though not significant, is often manifested through the use of images, namely portraits of the monarchs and paintings of the siege of Barcelona, which were a defining element of the alliances and political affiliations of those involved in the skirmishes. In the second chapter Schwartz addresses comprehensively the use of medals in of context of peace and how they were used to illustrate the negotiated end of the War of Spanish Succession. The pieces analyzed by the author correspond to the signing of the Treaty of Rastatt (1714), which sat staunch enemies, Prince Eugene of Savoy and Claude-Louis-Hector de Villars, at the same table. One of the medals portrays them as Roman generals celebrating the diplomatic alliance, using again the iconography of dexiosis, as seen in the pyrotechnic apparatus of Paradisi. Schwartz gives a clear vision of the value and use of medals in contexts of peace, providing a smooth transition to the third chapter (Diez del Corral), also dedicated to another medal that celebrates the double Luso-Spanish marriages of 1729. The author focuses on Portuguese medals during the period of John V and examines a red chalk drawing of a medal which was probably never made but was intended as part of a grand plan for celebrations and propaganda that would help put behind a long period of distrust between the crowns of Portugal and Spain. The second section of the book is entitled “Jesuits and diplomacy” and comprises a collection of contrasting contributions whose line of argument involves the conflictive religious order. On one side, Puyo explores, from an anthropological perspective, the significance of a Wampum belt sent to Chartres by the newly established Jesuit community among the Huron-Wendat nation (Canada) in 1678. The belt is perfectly documented and is an ideal paradigm of an artistic piece used to transmit a religious-diplomatic message and an instrument to seal an alliance between two worlds. The belt shows unusual complexity with discursive strategies adapted by the native Huron-Wendat people for a Western public, which the author reveals through





From a Pact to Rupture and Vice-versa 

 7

a careful material study of the piece. She maintains that the belt can be seen as one more diplomatic agent. On the other side, García Arenas analyzes the 1770 pontifical medal of Clement XIV against the backdrop of the negotiations conducted to suppress the Jesuit order. She shows that the medal is a visual materialization of the pope’s attempt to exercise his role of mediator and impose his agenda on an issue in which he was being pressured by the great temporal powers. In the medal, according to the author, we can discern the diplomatic finesse of the pontiff who transformed the powerful marquis of Pombal, prime minister of Portugal, from an enemy into an ally. Clement XIV dedicated his pontifical medal to the restauration of friendly relations with Portugal, thus using it as “portable propaganda” to reaffirm his power vis-a-vis the pressure exercised by the temporal power of the monarchs. The third section, “Negotiating with faith”, opens with the chapter of van der Drift offering the reader an interesting interpretation of cross-cultural relations between King Francis I of France and the Ottoman Sultan Suleiman through the study of an anonymous oil painting dated between 1525 and 1530. The author states that the painting functioned not only as an element of French propaganda, but also alludes directly to the Franco-Ottoman alliance forged to offset the all-powerful Charles V of Habsburg at a time of French weakness. The painting serves to materialize a strategy historically defended by the French monarchs, particularly by the Valois dynasty that had proclaimed themselves the Christian kings par excellence destined to lead a universal Christian monarchy. This section closes with Haist’s interesting reading of the political alliances of the papacy, this time not involving a regular court, but the Scottish court in Rome, a unique example of the only king without a crown and under papal protection. The Stuart court in Rome allows a study from the heart of Christianity of the visual strategies displayed by its members to keep alive its claim to the throne of England. The author analyses the four Stuart funerary monuments for the Vatican and the Church of the Holy Apostles, as a testimony in stone of the strong and shifting alliance between Jacobites and the papacy. The volume concludes with the last section dedicated to “Courts and diplomatic celebrations”. Through the study of two pamphlets and several engravings, Woodcock addresses the growing disapproval of the Parisians towards the wedding of Louis XIII with the Infanta Ana of Spain, and of her sister Isabel with the future king Phillip IV. Her argument is based on the analysis of the description of a firework display organized by the Hôtel de Ville during the festivities of Saint John in 1614 and 1615. The first pamphlet attacks without compromise the matrimonial policy of the French Regency, and while the second pamphlet is less fiery in tone, but both reveal a distinct feeling of Hispanophobia that finds in the double weddings an opportunity to expose the supposedly perverse intentions of the Spanish neighbors over French sovereignty. The author bases her analysis on a series of images, some of which show through



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metaphors and myths the need to defend French integrity against Spanish power, which begins at the natural border formed by the Pyrenees. Lastly, Lipp focuses on the creation of a musical chapel for a king who claims his throne. In the middle of the War of Spanish Succession, between 1705 and 1713, Archduke Charles made Barcelona his provisional capital. His rich endowment for the creation of his chapel of musicians masterfully exemplifies the impact of the changing political alliances on the policies of employment and the lives of the musicians. The extraordinary richness of the above-mentioned chapel is evidence not only of the Archduke’s interest and passion for music, but it also shows an entire plan to create a court fashioned on that of Vienna, intended to be a brilliant image of what the next Spanish Habsburg would be. This array of contributions emerged in the wake of the First International Congress from a series entitled “Transnational Relations and the Arts”, the objective of which is to build bridges of communication between scholars of different complementary disciplines through a more global approximation and not geographically limited to Europe, revealing an unlimited richness of artistic manifestations perceived in the broader context of a universal framework.



War and Peace

Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

Micro-conflicts and Reputation within Areas of “neutral” Ports during the War of the Spanish Succession The conflict from the Spanish Succession War supposed, without any doubt, a change in the European equilibrium during the XVIII century. On the Italian scenario, a whole series of mechanisms was set in motion to counteract the advance and the conquests of the Bourbon and Austrian parties. This circumstance was manifested through different instruments such as recruitments, conspiracies, espionage, image, diplomacy or propaganda. This article is intended to shed some light on the microconflicts that, on a daily basis, arose as a consequence of the international situation. Based on Italian documentation and with an approach from below of the subject, we will analyze, more precisely, some specific moments of disagreements during the Spanish Succession War.

The port of Livorno and the various levels of conflictivity In 1593, Ferdinand I established the clauses of a second Livornina which, beyond being used to expand the rights and privileges granted to Jews in 1591, were directed, according to the preface, to the following recipients: A tutti uoi mercanti di qualsiuoglia natione, leuantini, e’ ponentini, spagnioli, portoghesi, greci, todeschi, & italiani, hebrei, turchi, e’ mori, armenij, persiani, & altri saluto [...] libero et amplissimo salvocondotto, facoltà e licentia che possiate venire, stare, trafficare, passare et abitare con le vostre famiglie o senza esse, partire tornare et negoziare nella nostra città di Pisa et terra di Livorno et anco stare per negoziare altrove per tutt’il nostro ducal dominio senza molestia alcuna reale o personale per tempo durante di 25 anni prossimi.1

The arrival and settlement of merchants of diverse origin did not wait and, gradually, the port was registering an increase in the population with a high percentage of foreign origin. These strategies of commercial attraction established the favorable conditions so that a large number of merchants of foreign nationality settled in the

This research was funded by FCT SFRH/BPD/89361/2012, Portugal. 1 http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19688/19688-8.txt [accessed January 2020]. See Paolo Castignoli and Lucia Frattarelli Fischer, Le “Livornine” del 1591 e 1593, Livorno, 1987.

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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

port, which, in the end, would make Livorno one of the main commercial enclaves in the western Mediterranean throughout the XVII century and a great part of the XVIII. Livorno would serve as an example, not only for Cádiz and Genoa,2 in the Atlantic and Mediterranean respectively during the 17th century, but also in the Baltic area in the second half of the 18th century with the creation of the Swedish Frankish port of Marstrand.3 Due to the massive presence of foreign merchants, the governors of the square of Livorno, responsible for regulating the civil life of the port, valued them precisely for their different language knowledge, used as instruments for proper mediation in civil and criminal conflicts. The Marquis del Borro commented that “possede plusieurs langues, l’italienne est sa langue maternelle. Il entend le latin et le françois et parle fort bien espagnol et allemand”.4 As Yun Casalilla has made clear in the case of Spanish officials, the knowledge of languages was a kind of “trans-national capital” or “cosmopolitan capital” that was part of a series of immaterial resources needed to manage mediation situations between different cultures, this feature being one of the most sought by the Crown in its agents spread around the world.5 For the maintenance of the policy of Tuscan neutrality in the port of Livorno, Gregorio Leti valued the knowledge possessed by Cosme III of Latin, French, Spanish, Portuguese, English and German, languages that he, according to Leti, spoke and understood very clearly along with his knowledge of existing controversies, councils and geographical and historical news.6 It is not surprising that the most recurrent conflict in the square was of religious character, especially due to the Jewish presence. These lawsuits were carried out by the confrontation between the Pisan Inquisition, through its ecclesiastical agents, and the port government due to the interference and interventionism of the first ones. The Inquisition, spurred by the power of the Papal State on the Italian peninsula, sought to ensure religious example while the governor of Livorno struggled to keep intact the privileges granted by his prince. One of the examples was the prohibition of the Inquisitor of Pisa sent to Rome so that the Hebrew doctors of Livorno could not continue treating the Christians (who did it under chapter XVIII of the Livornina) since their attitude was against of the Papal bull.

2 Thomas Kirk, Genoa and Livorno: Sixteenth and Seventeenth-century Commercial Rivalry as a Stimulus to Policy Development, in: The Historical Association, vol. 86, 281, (2001), pp. 3–17. 3 Jesper Meijling, La lenta diffusione di un modello: il porto franco da Livorno a Marstrand nel Settecento, in: NSL, vol. XVII, (2010), pp. 95–120. 4 ASFi, MP, 1815, Mémoire de l’état présent de Ligourne et de son commerce année 1699, f.7v. 5 Bartolomé Yun Casalilla, Las Redes del Imperio. Élites sociales en la articulación de la Monarquía Hispánica, 1492–1714, Madrid, 2009, p. 20. 6 Gregorio Leti, L’Italia regnante overo nova descritione dello stato presente di tutti Prencipati e Republiche di Italia, Genoa, 1675, tomo III, p. 338. About Cosme III see Harold Acton, The last Medici, London, 1980 (1ª edition 1932).





Micro-conflicts and Reputation 

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The Tuscan authorities could only observe problems deriving from this prohibition since the English and Dutch used these Jewish doctors against the Christians. The intrusion of Rome into Tuscan affairs was always present despite the fact that it was not well received by the Medicean power that was continually looking for ways to overcome this pressure. In 1688, a complete memorial with questions for the theologians of the University of Évora or of Coimbra was transmitted to Niccolò Ginori, consul in Lisbon, about the jurisdiction that the prince could exercise over the clericals and the immunity from which they could enjoy. The objective was, without doubt, to theoretically support the blockade of clerical interference in the confessional affairs of the port.7 In a strongly corporate society and in a context of denominational diversity, the interests of the corporation were defended, often on the basis of the religious defense used, in this case, as a weapon. The boundary that separated the different spheres of power and jurisdiction in the port was very blurred and, often, there were situations of conflict between them. At the top of power was the Medicean sovereign whose knowledge of the affairs of the port was sifted through the figure of secretary of state and war that, almost always from Florence, remained in continuous contact with the governor of Livorno in whose court was They settled civil and criminal cases.8 Two foundations articulated he jurisdiction of the governor of the port: 1.- in quella città e suo distretto ha la suprema & universale iurisditione 2.- nei privilegii concessi alla natione ebrea egli è, constituito lor giudice supremo e conservatore in Livorno.9

In a letter of 1701 the Comunità di Livorno expressed, to the recently appointed governor, Tornaquinci, what they expected from him: “ordine nella giustizia, vigilanza nei pubblici affari e paterno amore verso il popolo attraverso la osservanza dei nostri statuti”.10 In turn, the conflicts that took place in the Tuscan maritime domain were judged by the Consoli del Mare court in Pisa and it was possible to appeal to their sentences in Florence.11 The causes between ships’ captains and sailors belonged to the jurisdic-

7 ASFi, MP, 5066, 14/5/1688. 8 Marcella Aglietti, I governatori di Livorno dai Medici all’Unità d’Italia. Gli uomini, le istituzioni, la città, Pisa, 2009, specially pp. 31–88. 9 ASFi, MP, 1814(I), Ins.7, ff.750–754. “Affari di stato e di guerra, lettere e altri documenti riferentisi al governo civile e militare di Livorno (1580–1664)”, not signed. 10 ASLi, Comunità. Lettere e negozi, 143, f.27. Letter to Tornaquinci. 11 Lucien De Valroger, Étude sur l’institution des consuls de la mer au Moyen-Age, París, 1891 and, above all, Robert Sidney Smith, Historia de los Consulados de Mar (1250–1700), Barcelona, 1978. Maurizio Sanacore, I consoli del mare a Pisa. Dall’età medicea alla riforma Leopoldina, Pisa, 1982–1983



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

tion of the governor of Livorno, unless the Consoli del Mare were appealed and provided that the sum of the litigation amounted to 200 liras, up to a maximum of 500.12 In many cases, the court of the Consoli del Mare of Pisa acted as a court of second instance. In conclusion, the natural way of resolving a conflict could start in Livorno and pass through Pisa to finally end in Florence. This entire scheme was seasoned and conditioned by the absence of a traditional local aristocracy and the incipient appereance of an emerging commercial bureaucracy with economic base in commercial business in a port practically created ex novo.13 In addition, the nations in the port formed a conglomerate in which the existing conflict on the international board was reproduced on a small scale. On the other hand, a series of microconflicts inherited from their land of origin and which were staged in the daily life of port life also materialized within each of the communities.14 In spite of the control instruments put in place by the Medicean government, such as the famigli—type of port police—, the climate of violence that existed in the port of Livorno was comparable to that of other Mediterranean ports where there was a high concentration of people of diverse origin and economic interests. Often, these interests were confronted and led to the resolution of their differences or debts through the use of violence. One of the problems of the port was, without doubt, its inability to give a spatial response to the consequences of this violence. At the end of 1676 it was said, in a memorial sent to the Grand Duke, about the lack of existing prisons in Livorno, neither secret or public “vedendosi ogni giorno crescere i disordini, si stima perciò necesario venire a qualche risoluzione, acciò si possa por rimedio e fine all’inconvenienti”.15 These confrontations and conflict found their highest peak in homicides and attempted homicides. The continuous deaths were not only of anonymous people, as often happened with the numerous prostitutes whose activities were highly regulated in the port, but also of recognized components of the Livorno society, such as the case of the murder of the Ergas Jew or the attempted murder against the own governor of the port, Alessandro Del Borro.16 This last event was interesting because

and Le fonti giurisdizionali Pisano-Livornesi e i conflitti di competenza nei secoli XVI e XVII, in: Studi Livornesi, IV, (1989), pp. 77–93. 12 ASFi, MP, 2290. “Governi di città e luoghi soggetti, Lettere di governatori, provveditori, ministri e diversi. Letters Rinuccini (1720–1721)”; ASLi, Comunità, Statuti, 10, f.190, 29/4/1623. 13 About evolution of Livorno see Paolo Castignoli, Livorno da terra murata a città, in: Livorno e il Mediterraneo nell’età medicea, Livorno, (1978), pp. 32–39. 14 Stefano Villani, Una finestra mediterranea sull’Europa: i ‘nordici’ nella Livorno della prima età moderna, in: Adriano Prosperi, (Coord.), Livorno 1606–1806. Luogo di incontro tra popoli e culture, Livorno, 2009, p. 160. 15 ASLi, Comunità, Lettere e negozi, 139, doc.539. Document dated 30/10/1676. 16 About Ergas, see letter ASFi, MP, 2212.





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of the importance it had, not only in the diplomatic sphere, but also in the religious one. In September 1685 Giovanni Bogisbaud, Count of Meimbergh, Lorraine of the city of Metz and recognized Huguenot, was becapitated. He was accused of the assassination attempt against the governor of the square when the Count wanted to go to the church of San Juan on the day of Corpus Domini—the celebration of the transubstantiation of Christ to which the Calvinists were opposed—in spite of the prohibition decreed by the governor who placed a soldier in all the churches so that the Catholic ceremony could be celebrated without incident. His death sentence was received with anger by the French community of Livorno.17 The very nature of the port, lacking the pre-existence of a consolidated community of local merchants, allowed foreigners not to encounter radical problems of receptivity that, otherwise, would have led to a deeply corporatist and plaintive society that had seen upon the arrival of groups of merchants parvenu from abroad as a threat to the residents’ status quo. Even so, this local resistance to the growth of Livorno, whose trade was substantially supported by a bourgeoisie of foreign origin, was led by the merchants of Florence. The jurisdiction over conflicts between members of the same nation was reserved for the consuls of foreign nations with the particularity that there was a specific court of judges, called massari, in the case of the Jewish nation as a result of the privileges that had been previously granted to them. In spite of it, everything had to be channeled by the court of the governor of the square: I massari degl’ebrei di Livorno hanno privilegio di conoscere le cause civili vertenti tra quelli della loro nazione, ma tutte l’esecutioni di dette cause devono cometerle per mezzo del Tribunale del governatore et perchè procurano bene spesso accrescere la loro jurisiditione a pregiudizio di questo tribunale.18

As Addobbati has shown, both the civil and economic life of Livorno were the result of continuous negotiation, taking into account that everything outside the written regulation would be contemplated by virtue of the concept of “natural equity”, people’s right and precendents use.19 The custom was the law. It was about tensing the situations to the maximum and wait for a reaction from the government, always jealous of the neutrality and reluctant to set a precedent that could lead to the theft of prerogatives and benefits to the Medicean and local government of Livorno. The formulas

17 BLL, Fondo della Accademia Labronica, ms.11, f.13r. “Libro di diverse cose memorabili seguite in questa nostra città di Livorno”; ASGe, Archivio Segreto, 2682 (1684–1691), letters 22/9/1685 and 26/9/1685 from consul Gavi to the Genoese Senate. See too Stefano Villani, ‘Cum scandalo catholicorum ...’. La presenza a Livorno di predicatori protestanti inglesi tra il 1644 e il 1670, in: NSL, VII, (1999), pp. 9–54. 18 ASFi, MP, 2221. Letter from Del Borro to Montauti, 4/1/1699. 19 Andrea Addobbati, Commercio, rischio e guerra. Il mercato delle assicurazioni marittime di Livorno (1694–1795), Roma, 2007, p. 31.



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

used by the local government to reject changes in what had been practiced secularly in legal matters consisted in not establishing precedents, making it impossible for others to exercise this concession. Given the possibility that Consul Silva could confirm the certifications coming from the Magistrato di Sanità, it was considered “a novità che non potrebbe permettersi”.20 In the same way, with regard to a memorial presented by Andrés de Silva in favor of a Jew, it was commented that “conceder quello che vien domandato sarebbe certamente di mal esempio” because it would introduce in this way a prejudice to the privileges of the massari.21 It was intended continuously not to assume the commitment to leave something in writing because much of the negotiation of rights and privileges was established based on the emulation of what was already agreed, that is, of the customary. This meant that once a jurisprudence was established, the requirements for this concession to be extended to the other members of the same legal status did not wait. Indeed, what was intended by the representatives of the different nations was the equalization of privileges and concessions between members who shared the same corporation. In other words, in this complex jurisdictional framework, the different hierarchies did not at any time accept any kind of comparative grievance between members belonging to the same level of stratification. Giovanni Levi has pointed out the plurality of normative systems and the corresponding existence of numerous courts in a stratified, hierarchical society with complex mechanisms of solidarity in which it is proposed to apply a distributive justice model, or what is the same: everyone should be judged according to their social condition.22 This specific justice led to a multiplication of systems and courts that could be enhanced by the interference of external powers, a result, above all, of the hierarchical superiority of some states over others. For example, the case of the imprisonment of two Spaniards in Livorno as a result of the definitive admission to proceedings of a sentence issued, not by local judicial authorities, but by the Neapolitan auditors.23 On other occasions, however, the possibility of the Hispanic powers to capture people in Livorno was authorized thanks to the signing of specific agreements stipulated with the Medicean government. By way of example, we cite the collaboration agreement signed in 1678 by Alonso de Salcedo, governor of Orbitelo, with the Grand Duke to enter without prob-

20 ASFi, MP, 5005, 24/1/1720, respond from Florence to Bernardo Cambi (Florentine agent in Spain from 1715 to 1733). 21 ASFi, MP, 2204, 22/9/1682, letter from Panciatichi to Del Borro. See too letters 21/9/1682 from Del Borro to Panciatichi and 25/9/1682 from Panciatichi to Del Borro. 22 Giovanni Levi, Equità e reciprocità fra Ancien Regime e società contemporanea, in: Éndoxa: series filosóficas, nº 12, Madrid, (2002), pp. 195–203. 23 ASFi, MP, 2207, 27/10/1686, letter from Panciatichi to Del Borro.





Micro-conflicts and Reputation 

 17

lems (up to three miles) in the territories of the Grand Ducal jurisdiction to capture bandits and criminals.24 This blurring of jurisdictional spheres in the port of Livorno was a latent problem when it comes to delivering justice. In the 1660s, doubts still arose between the governor of Livorno and the Consoli del Mare de Pisa over who belonged to the jurisdiction in the maritime causes that occurred in Livorno.25 Furthermore, it was illustrative of this context of multiplicity and continuous overlap of jurisdictions the insistence of the massari in the claim that some members of the Hebrew community chose not to abide by their authority but lend themselves to be judged by other instances when the sentence did not favor them. The case of Michel de Silva and the protest by the massari is enlightening, in which they complained that this Jew did not want to be governed by his court because he claimed that he was dependent on the jurisdiction of the French consul since he worked for him. At the heart of the matter was again the imitation of behavior, that is, the fear that if all Jews did the same thing it would have a negative impact on the collection of taxes among the members of the community.26 Notarious, as private agents, also entered into this amount of conflicts. One of the cases was reported by the British consul Giovanni Burrow requesting the annulment of a case opened against him by the Florentine notary Giuseppe Barzotti on behalf of the company Rugby and Shepard, English businessmen in Livorno, because of a dam. In his claim, the consul commented that it could not be allowed that “un privato mercante, [entrasse] nelle disposizioni del mio ministerio, et un notaro di assumersi quella autorità”.27 Often, the consuls wrote directly to the Secretary of State and war as soon as they encountered some kind of problem in which the governor declared himself incompetent. The margin of maneuver reserved to the consuls of foreigners in judicial matters was limited to the resolution of minor conflicts among the members of the community represented, this mediation being exercised verbally on many occasions within the consul’s own house. In any case, the governor also settled matters with the consuls verbally, which was not an obstacle for the consuls, with the aim of giving force to the different processes, to appear continuously in the lawsuits of members of their community against other foreign merchants in the courts of the Labronic governor or of Pisa. The correspondence between the Secretary of State of the Grand Duke and the governor of Livorno reveals a permanent sharing of the affairs that took place in the port. Both were coordinated, especially for the contrast of the information that the consuls sent to the secretary and that, often, was intentional to escape from the

24 ASFi, MM, 33, ins.2, ff.278–287. 25 ASFi, MP, 1828. Several documents about this issue. 26 ASFi, MP, 2288. Document from massari to Florence, 13/4/1712 27 ASFi, MP, 2285. Letter from Burrow to Panciatichi, July 1696.



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

jurisdiction of the governor when at some point the negotiations in any matter were festering. In most cases, these negotiations had to do with the continuous request for prerogatives and privileges. The growth of the port and the gradual settlement of merchants had consequently favored a corporate development around the representative figure of the consul who served as a unifying element of the interests of the community abroad and who added to the port context a sphere of controlled power, at first, by the Tuscan government. The procedure for the appointment of a consul in Livorno responded to some steps that, already in the first quarter of the XVII century, seemed well established. In 1624, the provveditore of customs, Ottavio Cappelli, informed Secretary Pucchena by letter that: Quanto al crear consoli in questo luogo l’esempio addotto da V.Illma. del consolo inghilese denota chiaramente, che i consoli devono essere proposti da capitano di nave et mercanti di loro natione, approvati dal lor principe naturale dal quale hanno patente queale debe essere confermato dal principe del luogo et in questo modo si costuma a Livorno confirmandogli lor A.S per rescritto tale eletioni.28

In most cases, the amount of consuls present in a port was, for the time being, directly proportional to the importance of the trade of the communities they represented. In other words, each community that attained a certain specific weight in a foreign port followed it correlatively, though not necessarily, representation by a consul either by appointment of the community itself or arbitrarily as a result of the exercise of the sovereignty of the royal representatives or of the republics. However, this sentence was not applicable for the case of the Spanish consul in Livorno since its presence was not justified just because of the presence of a strong Spanish community settled in the port. Filippini warned that the existence of a nation was consecrated by its institutions, being the first of these the consulate.29 Perhaps it is more convenient to point out that certain consulates, as was the case of the Spanish in Livorno, were justified more by geostrategic interests related to politics than by the existence of a commercial traffic transported through a stable community in the port. Studies on the different nations settled in the port of Livorno have been numerous although less attention has been paid to the work of the consuls who represented

28 ASFi, MP, 2083, 18/4/1624, letter from Ottavio Cappelli to Pucchena; ASFi, MP, 2216, 5/7/1695, letter from Panciatichi to Alessandro del Borro: “il costume è che i nuovi sig consoli facciano presentare con le loro patenti un memoriale a SA in cui supplicano ad esercitare le loro incumbenze e che perciò ancor egli si compiaccia di conformarsi a questo stile inviando qui, o consegnando a V.Illma. per trasmettergli nelle mie mani la sua patente et il suo memoriale che rimanderò poi a V.Illma. spedito”. 29 Jean-Pierre Filippini, Les nations à Livourne (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles), in: Simonetta Cavaciocchi, (Coord.), I porti come impresa economica, Florence, 1988, p. 582.





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 19

them.30 In this sense, the consular figure has been very conditioned to the weight of the community in the port and the level of traffic handled by it.31 In particular, we have studies on the nations in Livorno with references to the consuls representing them. Untill the middle of the XVII there already existed a broad consular representation of communities that had a considerable percentage of contracting and business in the port that generally formed a large community within it. From parallell sources we can observe the weight of each community in the port. The equitable distribution according to the numerical weight of the expense agreed with each of the consuls and massari for the collection of garbage and rubbish had the Jews as the most important contributors with eight ducati per month. Subsequently, the English and French appeared with six and, and finally, Flemish and Genoese with four ducati per month.32 The records of the rate of 0.5% between 1693 and 1698 refers to the inhabitants registered in Livorno, which were a true melting pot of backgrounds. Among the nations of the merchants and people settled in Livorno were the Piedmontese, Genoese, Luque, French, English, Dutch, Maltese, Greek, Corsican, Armenian, Venetian, Portuguese (Jewish and non-Jewish), Flemish, German and Bolognese.33 Added to these were the inhabitants from the nations included in the Hispanic jurisdictional mantle: Messina, Trapani, Milan, Palermo and Naples. Briefly, Consul Andrés de Silva developed his activities in a port characterized by controversies, basically confessional and interstate. The port in turn had a high percentage of foreigners gathered around corporate organization cells such as consulates. In effect, these foreigners were represented by their respective consuls in a very complex local jurisdictional context, in a society whose lawsuits were governed mainly by customary law. Livorno was conditioned by the desires of neutrality of the Tuscan sovereigns and strongly influenced by the superposition of different spheres of power. Politics, trade and religion (in the dilemma of defending Catholicism or tolerance of confessions) are three concepts that were interconnected but that, without any doubt, and depending on the medical interests and each situation, were individually

30 About communities in Livorno see Giacomo Panessa, Nazioni e Consolati in Livorno. 400 anni di storia, Livorno, 1998 and Maria Grazia Biagi, I Consoli delle Nazioni a Livorno, in: Livorno e il Mediterraneo nell’età medicea, Livorno, 1978, pp. 361–368. 31 Carlo Mangio, Nazioni e tolleranza a Livorno, in: NSL, III, (1995), pp. 11–21; Jean-Pierre Filippini, Il porto di Livorno e la Toscana (1676–1814), Nápoles, 1998, vol. II, pp. 399–427; Andrea Addobbati, Commercio, rischio e guerra… cit., pp. 17–46; Jean-Pierre Filippini, Les nations à Livourne (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles), in: Simonetta Cavaciocchi, (Coord.), I porti come impresa economica, Florencia, 1988. 32 ASLi, Comunità di Livorno, Lettere e negozi, 136, f.809. “Nota della distribuzione per la spesa da farsi in tener netta dalle spazzature et immondizie per la città di Livorno”. 33 ASFi, MP, 2220. Alessandro del Borro to Panciatichi, 24/8/1699.



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

acquiring a different weight in its application to specific circumstances, that is, prioritizing one over others based on what the situation required. In other words, we have to differentiate between the legal framework and the practices put in place, that is, between theory and intervention praxis. Recently, it has become clear that the tolerance practices in Livorno were often the result of compromises and small conflicts, the process of cultural and confessional assimilation being much more complicated than Medicean propaganda and the myth of Livorno have seemed to claim as a cosmopolitan and tolerant city.34

Reputation, port greetings, image, microconflicts and Succession war The committment of the Spanish consul Andrés de Silva with Philipp V was evident in his actions to attract the Grand Duke to the Bourbon cause in the war. In information from 1708, the governor of Livorno indicated that: Hoggi mi son venuti a trovare li signori Marchese Villavincenza Quadralvo delle Galere di Napoli, Capitano, Comandante e Console Silva e mi anno fatta una grandísima esagerazione di aver loro giurata fedeltà a Filippo V e volergliela continuare con ogni attenzione. E benche sappino che le galere stanno qui in porto con tutta sicurezza non ostante avendo certi riscontri che ci è chi di continuo li tende insidie e vanno sobornando di far ribellare dette galere o di altro. Al che li ho risposto che a loro conviene stare con vigilanza attenzione e cautela che a me solo si aspetta il difendere che fosse insultato in porto e non in altra forma come il sig. Console molto ben sa, e con questo si son licenziati.35

These Italian principalities and republics were scenes of a complex balance of forces and played an essential role in the course of the war. Not in vain, the installation in 1708 of the envoy Dominican father Ascanio, resident in Florence, responded to the attempt of the government of Madrid to ensure the Tuscan collaboration in the dynastic conflict. In Livorno, the imperial consul Hermenne was dedicated to demanding a framework of equality between the treatment given to Spaniards and French as a whole and that which should begin to be given to the supporters of Charles III. In this sense, in a few months he raised different complaints directly to the Florentine Secretary, focusing on several fundamental issues: the freedom with which the French made cams of German men and of any nation in the Piazza di Livorno;

34 Lucia Frattarelli Fischer and Stefano Villani, ‘People of every mixture’. Immigration, tolerance and religious conflicts in Early Modern Livorno, in: Anne Isaacs (coord.), Immigration and emigration in historical perspective, Pisa, 2007, p. 105. 35 ASFi, MP, 2229, 16/4/1708, carta de Tornaquinci a Montauti.





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 21

that the corsairs with imperial flag were treated in equal conditions than the others who met in Livorno; that the caesarean provisions could make sails and masts as the other nations were allowed and, finally, that the imperial subjects were not forced to pay the rate of 0.5% whose privilege the other nations in the port already enjoyed, not allowing “che vengano i sudditi di SMC meno favoriti degli altri”.36 Any movement of the grand duke that would significantly affect some nations in favor of others was reported by each of the consuls in the port, so the balance within the margins of neutrality was very complicated in circumstances difficult to control in a geostrategic point in which, for example, the Neapolitan and French ships that arrived at the port as merchants left it as corsairs prepared to attack the imperial ships.37 The proper Consul Silva himself facilitated the armament of French feluccas, which he himself endowed with a patent, so that they could go clandestinely as corsairs.38 In spite of everything, the great duke took care in those years in the maintenance of neutrality. At each turn of the war, the governor’s started ti doubt about what should be practiced in the port. With the taking of Barcelona and the proclamation of Archduke Charles of Austria as Charles III of Spain, the governor asked Florence how to act before the Catalan boats that came to the port with an imperial patent. He proposed in any case that the treatment of these vessels, in order not to incur in injustice and give rise to the fact that Consul Silva could pretend some kind of action against these ships, should be the same as that given to other nations: [...] mostrando detta patente non ci è da poterseli dare eccezzione et anche crederei si dovesse serrar gl’occhi con ammeterli a pratica, ma perciò giudicherei bene che li ministri della Bocca non ritenessero apresso di se le patenti bensi subito viste restituirgliele perchè negandoseli pratica o recusando le patenti si entrerebbe in impegni e con S.Maestà Cesarea e con li collegati tanto più per non ci essere qui console imperiale è facile li sopradetti bastimento catelani venghino raccomandati al console inglese. Inoltre fò anche refflessione che comparendo qui di detti bastimento con patente di Carlo Terzo e che il sig. Console di Spagna venisse a fare qualche instanza /che non crederei/ d’arresto di persone o altro con pretesto d’essere ribelli del suo Re; non parrebbe cosa da accordarseli per non entrare in queste conoscenze et impegni come sopra.39

The Grand Duke was really at a crossroads where the way out could be the imitation of the behaviors adopted in Genoa. From Florence, it was later answered that it would be interesting to know the port treatment in terms of greetings given to Mallorcan and Catalan warehouses that arrived with the Austrian flag to Genoa since that way one could act accordingly and adjust the treatment in the port of Livorno: “Si suppone qui che V.Illma abbia in Genova persona di sua particolar confidenza” with the aim of

36 ASFi, MP, 2286, letters from Hermenne to Montauti, 6/7/1703. 37 ASFi, MP, 2230, 14/4/1709, letters from Tornaquinci to Montauti. 38 ASFi, MP, 2228, 24/9/1707, letters from Tornaquinci to Montauti. 39 ASFi, MP, 2226, 2/12/1705, f.1055, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti.



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

taking part of the greetings practiced, otherwise, if you do not get the information of the greetings in Genoa to this type of boats, one could choose not to greet itself in that it was a unknown situation and that one had to request the Grand Duke to act on it first.40 The correspondence from the Florentine envoy in Madrid with the Medicean court reveals an extreme interest in the matter of the partition of the Hispanic Monarchy. In the first years of the war, Incontri sent very detailed information of the agreements of partition and of the testament of Charles II so that from Florence all this was known and acted accordingly.41 Also in Genoa, the Marquis of Monreal, from his position as an extraordinary Spanish envoy, repeatedly tried to attract Genoa to the Bourbon cause, often counting on information sent from Livorno by Andrés de Silva.42 Giovanni Assereto has recently highlighted not only the importance of the Ligurian Republic in the military, financial and commercial fields of the powers during the development of the succession conflict but also the difficult balance to maintain the neutrality and ambiguity of its actions.43 In any case, in these years of controversy, the Ligurian Republic took advantage of the situation by collaborating commercially with the Dutch and English.44 On the basis of the letters preserved for 1710, the narrow connection of the consulate of Livorno with the main reference pole of Spanish diplomacy in Italy it is observed, the plenipotentiary Duke of Uceda that coordinated services of diplomatic representation from Genoa.45 However, Minister Uceda, who had had a wide diplomatic career for various positions in the Hispanic Monarchy, was officially in favor of the Austrian cause since 1711 (the year in which he became the Austrian representative in Genoa) although he demonstrated since 1709 when his embassy in Rome ended and as a result of the party taking sides with the Archduke on the part of the Pope. The change of political party by Uceda could be due to the huge amount of money the government of Madrid owed to him. In other words, Andrés de Silva from Livorno, affiliated with the Bourbon party, was offering useful information to the Duke of Uceda who acted as an infiltrated informer for the Archduke and who did not hesitate to repeatedly thank for all the information that Consul Silva sent him from Livorno.46

40 ASFi, MP, 2228, 19/12/1705, letter from Montauti to Tornaquinci. 41 ASFi, MP, 4990, letters from Ludovico Incontri (1700 and 1701) about the Spanish Succession. 42 AHN, Estado, 1675, from Genoa, 21/2/1704 letter of Marquis of Monreal. 43 Giovanni Assereto, La guerra di Successione spagnola dal punto di vista genovese, in: AAVV, Génova y la Monarquía Hispánica (1528–1713), Atti della società ligure di storia patria, Nuova Serie, vol. LI (CXXV), Fasc. I, Génova, 2011, vol. II, pp. 539–584. 44 AHN, Estado, 1675, Consulta Estado, 24/3/1703. 45 AHN, Estado, 4895(I), letters from Duke of Uceda to Andrés de Silva (25/1 to 6/9/1710). 46 AHN, Estado, 4895(I), 3/5/1710, letter from Duke Uceda to Andrés de Silva. See Florencio Huerta García, El duque de Uceda, don Juan Francisco Pacheco Téllez Girón. Un politico entre dos siglos, in: Arch. Hisp., 261–266, (2003–2004), pp. 57–75.





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Ochoa Brun has made it clear that it is possible to transfer the diplomatic rivalry that occurred during the Succession War to the consulates, once again showing the importance of these institutions in the positioning of the states on the international board. These clashes between the Bourbon and Imperial consuls occurred especially acutely in northern Italy due to the importance of this region during the war. Such is the case of the Spanish consulate in Genoa, represented by the Arpe, openly confronted with the imperial consulate of Bartolomé Maricone.47 Livorno was also the scene of disputes between consuls. The balance of power had changed and both the consulates and the communities in Livorno reflected the international war situation. Between the French and Spaniards, whether they were consuls or communities, there was a process of integration and agglutination around the cause of Philip V. One of the examples was the celebration of the birth of the infant of Spain, an occasion for which both communities sang the Te Deum “con lo sparo di molti mascoli et la sera un’illuminazione alle lor case come faranno per tre sere”.48 Consequently, the common enemy of the Spanish and French consuls in Livorno was the imperial consul, Stefano Hermenne, who had been installed since the beginning of the XVIII as representative of the Archduke cause and whose work was subsequently continued by Giacomo Wheley. For Imperial consuls in Livorno, the diplomatic reference point was their ambassador in Rome. The appointment of Wheley by the court of Vienna is interesting because since the end of the century he was in charge of secondary affairs in the vice-consulate of the English, a circumstance that once again demonstrated the use of the consular institution by the states based on the trajectory of these figures and search for elements that favor collaboration. Not in vain, Wheley combined the viceconsular position of the English with the imperial consulate until the end of the 1720s. The organization of the imperial consular network also affected Genoa, where the consul, who until then had served the English, also became Consul of the Catalans with the Archdukes patent.49 In this same line of recycling on the part of the court of Vienna of English agents, Lambert Blackwell, that between 1690 and 1696 was British consul in Livorno, became Imperial ambassador in Rome at the beginning of the XVIII century. Along with the attempts to orient the Grand Duke towards the Bourbon option and the denunciations of Consul Silva in the face of what he considered advantages for the Austrians, one of the main tasks was to enforce the symbols of the Bourbon cause in the port. If during all the second half of the XVII the complaints of the Spanish consul

47 Miguel Ángel Ochoa Brun, Embajadas rivales: la presencia diplomática de España en Italia durante la Guerra de Sucesión, Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2002, pp. 327–346. 48 ASFi, MP, 2228. 17/10/1707, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti. 49 ASFi, MP, 2227, f.423, 9/6/1706, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti.



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 Francisco Zamora Rodríguez

in Livorno were directed against the contempt of the French to the house of the Austrias, at the beginning of century XVIII the consular efforts of the Spanish consul in collaboration with the French were carried out by the defense of the image of Philipp V. In 1712 the consul Silva complained that the Grand Duke of Tuscany had granted the consul of the Archduke the possibility of representing in a single shield, and not dividing them, the arms of Spain and the empire.50 The governor’s doubts a year before showed that he did not know whether to allow the Imperial representative to raise the Archduke weapons in his own home. Again, from the port government of Livorno, they set their sights on Genoa to act accordingly pointing out that there: “non l’anno inalborata ma puramente fanno la sola figura nel maneggio dell’interessi del loro Rè”.51 The matter was mentioned on the occasion of the recognition of the patent of Giacomo Wheley English and consul of the majesty of Archduke Charles in Livorno. The governor of the port was urged from Florence to find out if some members representing Charles III in Genoa (such as the envoy Marquis Aliberti or the vice-consul) had their arms raised in their homes.52 The Genoese Republic once again appeared as a mirror to look at as in regards the way of acting with the imperial consuls before the changes in the political situation.53 Previously, in 1706, Montauti pointed out to Tornaquinci the news from Genoa that the consul of England had received Charles III’s patent from the consul of Spain and that he should discover if he had raised his arms or if he intended to do so in that port. The battle for reputation was often born in the daily life of artisans in the port. In modern society, appearance and the binomial public manifestation-scandal formed an intrinsic part of daily life, which was strongly regulated by a strict restrictive and exemplary framework. From the everydayness the offense was channeled towards the diplomatic, in which the consuls appeared as intermediaries. In May of 1704, a French embroiderer walked through Livorno with a portrait of Philip V, an action that was subject to criticism by the imperial consul and vice consul and resulted in great disorder in the square.54 On another occasion, Andres de Silva with the French consul went to complain to the governor of Livorno because two young Germans had entered into the business of Franco Barbieri and had started one of the usual pictures with the portrait of the Catholic king.55 Consul Silva added that they had also spat on the stamp although he had not told the gilder. The intention of the Tornaquinci was to speak with the imperial consul. When speaking with the consul’s clerk, he told him that neither the consul nor he is

50 AHN, Estado, 859. Consulta Estado, 5/3/1712. 51 ASFi, MP, 2232, 24/6/1711, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti. 52 Íbidem, 11/6/1711, Montauti to Tornaquinci; see too ASFi, MP, 2224, f.275, 7/3/1702, letter from Montauti to Tornaquinci. 53 ASFi, MP, 2227, f.408, 8/6/1706. 54 ASFi, MP, 2225, f.523, 26/5/1704, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti. 55 ASFi, MP, 2225, f.186, 22/2/1703, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti.





Micro-conflicts and Reputation 

 25

to blame for what these two young men have done, “molto vino che avevano in testa” because he said that one of them fell in the middle of the street before to enter the house. It was possible that they were jewelers. During the time of the Succession War, the outrages did not cease to the symbols that represented the contending sovereigns with the respective defense of the reputation on the part of their consuls. In 1706 Carlo Antonio Giannelli, the hotelier of the White Cross who lodged the Imperial ambassador, Count of Lambergh, when he was in Livorno, had exposed two pictures of the siege of Barcelona, one of which appeared Philip V in an attitude of escape. Before the complaint of the French and Spanish consuls, the hotelier went to remove them justifying himself with the excuse that they had forced him to hang them.56

Conclusions The Italian scene in general and the Grand Duke of Tuscany in particular were areas in which this conflict had a transcendental reflection and an absolutely crucial importance in the global geostrategy and in the development of the events. In the port of Livorno, created under the auspices of the Medici at the end of the 16th century, readjustments and “fluctuations of alliances” were operated due to the new political situation developed at the beginning of the 18th century. As a neutral port, Livorno acted, in theory, under the protection of a legal framework that promoted economic activities in a jurisdictional framework of tolerance and respect between different nations. In spite of this, it did not lack diplomatic conflicts of all kind, highlighting, among them, those related to protocol, greetings from the port and precedence in ceremonial acts. Livorno was a vitally important area in the geostrategy of modern states. This precarious balance, based on the idea of port of trade, was maintained due to the insistence of prohibiting public demonstrations of confessional adhesions and policies that could provoke confrontations, disorders or tumults within the port area. It was intended, in this way, to configure a safe and comfortable place for the flow of capital and goods in a Europe structured by the conflict. In fact, daily episodes altered the life of an area initially considered as neutral.

56 ASFi, MP, 2227, f.406, 4/6/1706, letter from Tornaquinci to Montauti.



Anna Lisa Schwartz

Iuguntur Iuppiter et Sol Allegorical Design of Medals Commemorating the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden (1714) The death of Charles II of Spain in 1700, childless and without immediate heirs, not only led to the end of the Habsburg hegemony over Europe, but also to a political conflict throughout the European continent. It has often been called a world war due to its wide-ranging effects that were felt as far away as in the overseas colonies.1 The question of the Spanish Succession arose as early as the end of the 17th century. On the one hand, the heir of the Austrian branch of the Habsburgs Charles VI attempted to assert his family links to the last Habsburgs ruling in Spain. On the other hand, Louis XIV planned to put his nephew Philip of Anjou on the throne although Philip had renounced his claim to the Spanish inheritance (and that of his future heirs with Maria Theresa) as part of the Treaty of the Pyrenees and the accompanying marriage contract signed in 1659. The stakes were high—the Spanish inheritance included not only the Iberian Peninsula, but also the Kingdoms of Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia, parts of northern Italy and Tuscany, as well as the southern Netherlands. Thus, the ongoing dispute over the succession created an enormous power vacuum that even induced England and the Netherlands to step in in order to maintain the balance of power in Europe. In 1701, the mounting tension on the European continent between France and the Grand Alliance, comprised of Austria, parts of the Holy Roman Empire, and the sea powers, finally erupted into to the War of the Spanish Succession.2

1 David Onnekink, Renger E. De Bruin, De Vrede van Utrecht, Hilversum: Verloren, 2013, pp. 42–45. Henry Kamen, The War of Succession in Spain 1700–1715, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1969, p. 9. In an introductory text about the War of the Spanish Succession, Schnettger suggests the wording ‘Western European war with a global impact’ instead of world war: Matthias Schnettger, Der Spanische Erbfolgekrieg: 1701–1713/14, Munich: Beck, 2014, p. 117. 2 The War of the Spanish Succession Onnekink / de Bruin (as fn.  1), pp.  27–47. Stefan Smid, Der Spanische Erbfolgekrieg. Geschichte eines vergessenen Weltkriegs (1701–1714), Cologne et al.: Böhlau, 2011; the Grand Alliance, pp.  120–133. The marriage compact in conjunction with the Peace of the Pyrenees Smid 2011 (as fn. 2), pp. 19–34. Lucien Bély, Bertrand Haan, Stéphane Jettot (eds.), La Paix de Pyrénées (1659) ou le triomphe de la raison politique, Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2015. In particular the essay by Joaquim Albareda. Daniel Séré, La paix des Pyrénées. Vingt-quatre ans de négociations entre la France et l’Espagne (1635–1659), Paris: Champion, 2007. Heinz Duchhardt, Die dynastische Heirat als politisches Signal, in: Mirosława Czarnecka, Jolanta Szafarz (eds.), Hochzeit als ritus und casus. Zu interkulturellen und multimedialen Präsentationsformen des Barock, Warsaw: Oficyna Wydawn. ATUT, 2001, pp.  67–70. Heinz Duchhardt (ed.), Der Pyrenäenfriede 1659. Vorgeschichte, Widerhall, Rezeptionsgeschichte, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010. Balance of power: Klaus Malettke, Universalmonarchie, kollektive Sicherheit und Gleichgewicht im 17. Jahrhundert,

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Peace medals as a medium Various media, especially prints and medals, were used to portray the conflict until it ended in the peace treaties in Utrecht, Rastatt, and Baden.3 For a long time, art and cultural historians have analyzed the role of reproductive media in relation to the visual representation of the ruling class on the one hand and propaganda on the other. It is possible to understand the special role of medals in this matter by examining the example of Louis XIV’s L’Histoire métallique.4 Even during the War of the Spanish Succession, medals remained—in addition to printed media—a popular and widely circulated medium used to establish the princely profile and at the same time defame their opponents. But how did this situation change with the perspective of

in: Michael Jonas, Ulrich Lappenküper, Bernd Wegner (eds.), Stabilität durch Gleichgewicht? Balance of Power im internationalen System der Neuzeit, Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2015, pp.  17–34. Heinz Duchhardt, Balance of Power und Pentarchie. Internationale Beziehungen 1700–1785, Munich, Paderborn: Schöningh, 1997, pp. 259–261. 3 Max Braubach, Die Friedensverhandlungen in Utrecht und Rastatt, 1712–1714, in: Historisches Jahrbuch 90 (1970), pp. 284–298. Renger E. de Bruin (ed.), Friedensstädte. Die Verträge von Utrecht, Rastatt und Baden 1713–1714, Petersberg: Imhof, 2013. Christian Windler, Kongressorte der Frühen Neuzeit im europäischen Vergleich. Der Friede von Baden (1714), Cologne et al.: Böhlau, 2014. Ottocar Weber: Der Friede von Rastatt 1714, in: Deutsche Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 8 (1892), pp. 273– 310. Rolf Stücheli, Der Friede von Baden (Schweiz) 1714. Ein europäischer Diplomatenkongress und Friedensschluss des “Ancien Régime”, Fribourg: University Press, 1997. Onnkink / de Bruin (as fn. 1), pp. 62–78. Heinz Duchhardt (ed.), Utrecht–Rastatt–Baden 1712–1714. Ein europäisches Friedenswerk am Ende des Zeitalters Ludwigs XIV., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013. 4 Sibylle Appuhn-Radtke, Sol oder Phaeton? Invention und Imitation barocker Bildpropaganda in Wien und Paris, in: Wilhelm Hofmann, Hans-Otto Mühleisen (eds.), Kunst und Macht. Politik und Herrschaft im Medium der bildenden Kunst, Münster: LIT, 2005, pp. 94–127. Peter Burke, Ludwig XIV. Die Inszenierung des Sonnenkönigs, Berlin: Wagenbach, 1993. Friedrich B. Polleroß, Zur Repräsentation der Habsburger in der bildenden Kunst, in: Rupert Feuchtmüller, Elisabeth Kovács (eds.), Wien et  al.: Herder, 1986, pp.  87–104. Derk P. Snoep, Praal en propaganda. Triumfalia in de Noordelijke Nederlanden in de 16de en 17de eeuw, Utrecht: Canaletto, 1975. Hendrik Ziegler, Der Sonnenkönig und seine Feinde. Bildpropaganda Ludwigs XIV. in der Kritik, Petersberg: Imhof, 2010. Jutta Schumann, Die andere Sonne. Kaiserbild und Medienstrategien im Zeitalter Leopolds I., Berlin: Akad.-Verl., 2003. Jens Metzdorf, Politik–Propaganda–Patronage. Francis Hare und die englische Publizistik im Spanischen Erbfolgekrieg, Mainz: von Zabern, 2000. Franz Matsche, Die Kunst im Dienst der Staatsidee Kaiser Karls VI. Ikonographie, Ikonologie und Programmatik des “Kaiserstils”, Berlin, New York, NY: de Gruyter, 1981. On l’histoire métallique, i.a. Sylvie de Turckheim-Pey (ed.), Médailles du Grand Siècle. histoire métallique de Louis XIV, Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, 2004. Yvan Loskoutoff (ed.), Les médailles de Louis XIV et leur livre, Mont-Saint-Aignan: University Press Rouen and le Havre, 2016, p. 7. Alexander Dencher, The triumphal medals of William III of Orange and the histoire métallique of Louis XIV of France in the wake of the Glorious Revolution, in: Jaarboek voor munt- en penningkunde 104 (2017), pp.  102–135. Gerd Dethlefs, Die Anfänge der Ereignismedaille. Zur Ikonographie von Krieg und Frieden im Medaillenschaffen, in: Rainer Grund (ed.), Medaillenkunst in Deutschland von der Renaissance bis zur Gegenwart. Themen, Projekte, Forschungsergebnisse, Dresden: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Medaillenkunst, 1997, pp. 19–38.





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peace on the horizon? Which visual mechanisms did artists use to transpose past opponents into contract partners? The idea for the following remarks developed out of the participation in the project “That Justice and Peace Should Kiss One Another”— Representations of Peace in Premodern Europe by the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg.5 Several of the medals from the imperial cities created to commemorate the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden attest to a profound interest in the monarchic iconography of Louis XIV and Charles VI, while also drawing upon established peace motives. In addition, the interactions of text and image suggest that an educated audience was intended, especially in the virtuously designed circumscriptions. This can be substantiated for the imperial city of Nuremberg by the following analysis of distribution methods and channels of exemplary medals at the beginning of the 18th century.

The effects of early diplomacy on peace medals Peace medals, as they developed from the time of the Treaty of Westphalia, could feature varying content. They commonly depicted allegories with Pax and Abundantia, emblems displaying the recovery of commerce and art (blessings of peace) and religiously motivated images such as, for instance, the Kiss of Justice and Peace according to Psalm 85:11.6 Increasingly, and especially in the context of the Conferences of Nijmegen (1678), Ryswick (1697), and Utrecht (1713), images of diplomats found their way onto the medals.7 Hillard von Thiessen made clear that diplomatic positions were occupied by nobles without exception in eighteenth-century diplo-

5 https://www.gnm.de/en/research/archive-research-projects/representations-of-peace/ [accessed December 6, 2020]. 6 Rainer Wohlfeil, Pax antwerpiensis. Eine Fallstudie zu Verbildlichungen der Friedensidee im 16. Jahrhundert am Beispiel der Allegorie ‘Kuß von Gerechtigkeit und Friede’, in: Brigitte Tolkemitt (ed.), Historische Bildkunde. Probleme, Wege, Beispiele, Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1991, pp. 211– 260. Klaus Schreiner, ‘Gerechtigkeit und Frieden haben sich geküsst’ (Ps 85, 11). Friedensstiftung durch symbolisches Handeln, in: Ulrich Meier, Gerd Schwerhoff, Gabriela Signori (eds.), Rituale, Zeichen, Bilder. Formen und Funktionen symbolischer Kommunikation im Mittelalter, Cologne et  al.: Böhlau, 2001, pp.  65–124. Hans-Martin Kaulbach, Friede als Thema der bildenden Kunst — ein Überblick, in: Wolfgang Augustyn (ed.), Pax. Beiträge zu Idee und Darstellungen des Friedens, Munich: Scaneg-Verl., 2003, pp. 161–242, pp. 189–192. Hans Galen, Gerd Dethlefs, Der Westfälische Frieden. Die Friedensfreude auf Münzen und Medaillen. Vollständiger beschreibender Katalog, Greven: Eggenkamp, 1987. Klaus Bußmann, Heinz Schilling (eds.), 1648. Krieg und Frieden in Europa 3 vol., Münster: Veranst.-Ges. 350 Jahre Westfäl. Friede, 1998. Hans-Martin Kaulbach (ed.), Friedensbilder in Europa 1450–1815. Kunst der Diplomatie — Diplomatie der Kunst, Berlin: Dt. Kunstverl., 2013. 7 Cornelia Manegold, Bilder diplomatischer Rangordnungen. Gruppen, Versammlungen und Friedenskongresse in den Medien der Frühen Neuzeit, in: Kaulbach 2013 (as fn. 6), pp. 43–65.



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matic relations.8 His actor-centered approach to the history of diplomacy, which also takes into account the perspectives of the diplomats involved, is especially fruitful with regards to his analysis of visual media.9 A very good example of this trend is a medal by Regnier Arondeaux created for the Treaty of Ryswick (1697), on whose reverse the diplomats are closing in unison the gate of the Temple of Janus.10 With the beginning of the 18th century, high-quality portraits of rulers on the obverse side of medals dominated, while the reverse could continue to depict allegorical scenes.11 It seems misleading to see this development simply as a consequence of the representation of the absolute monarch. The portrayal of diplomats is surely a consequence of the above-mentioned period with its large peace conferences in the 17th and early 18th century. Additionally, a similar development can be detected in prints, in which festive entries of diplomats start to evolve as a subject. The medals featuring the Peace Treaties of Rastatt and Baden, which ended the War of the Spanish Succession, are good examples of this transition process. Werner Telesko rightly emphasized that numismatic signs of peace rather used symbolic imagery than depicting the peace process or the signing of the treaty such as in printed media.12 Nevertheless, for the depictions of the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden, there are several medals of note which prominently feature diplomats, thus opening up new possibilities of reproducing two former enemies united in peace. Iuguntur Iuppiter et Sol: The depiction of the Treaty of Rastatt on medals

8 Hillard von Thiessen, Diplomaten und Diplomatie im frühen 18. Jahrhundert, in: Heinz Duchhardt (ed.), Utrecht–Rastatt–Baden 1712–1714. Ein europäisches Friedenswerk am Ende des Zeitalters Ludwigs XIV., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013, pp.  13–34; for the role of nobility and diplomacy pp. 21–29. 9 Hillard von Thiessen, Christian Windler, Einleitung, in: Hillard von Thiessen, Christian Windler (eds.), Akteure der Außenbeziehungen. Netzwerke und Interkulturalität im historischen Wandel, Cologne et al.: Böhlau, 2010, pp. 1–12. 10 Regnier Arondeaux, medal of the Peace of Ryswick 1697, silver, struck, 49 mm. Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, NG-VG-1-1769. Gerard van Loon, Beschryving der Nederlandsche Historipenningen.... 4 vols., The Hague: van Lom et al., 1723–1731, vol. 4, p. 215, no. 2. Cornelia Manegold, Der Frieden von Rijswijk 1697. Zur medialen Präsenz und Performanz der Diplomatie in Friedensbildern des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts, in: Heinz Duchhardt, Martin Espenhorst (eds.), Frieden übersetzen in der Vormoderne. Translationsleistungen in Diplomatie, Medien und Wissenschaft, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012, pp. 157–193, pp. 159–162. 11 The medalists Holtzhey residing in Amsterdam and Vestner active in Nuremberg deserve a special mention. A.O. van Kerkwijk, De portretten van de Holtzhey’s, in: Jaarboek voor munt- en penningkunde 28 (1941), pp.  39–46. Franziska Bernheimer, Georg Wilhelm Vestner und Andreas Vestner. Zwei Nürnberger Medailleure, Munich: University Press, 1984, pp. 146–152. 12 Werner Telesko, Rastatt – ‘Ruhestadt’. Visualisierungen der Friedensschlüsse 1713/1714 zwischen traditioneller Symbolik und Bildreportage, in: Duchhardt 2013 (as fn. 8), pp. 373–393, pp. 379–380.





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Fig. 1a and 1b: Medal commemorating the Treaty of Rastatt, designed and produced in Nuremberg. Silver. Württemberg State Museum, Numismatic Collection, MK 20003.

The issue of the Spanish Succession had in fact already been resolved with the Treaty of Utrecht, although not to the benefit of Charles VI. The thereupon-continuing military conflict along the northern Rhine between the Emperor and France led to the Treaty of Rastatt in 1714. The talks in Rastatt, which took place under the aegis of commanders Prince Eugene of Savoy and Claude-Louis-Hector de Villars, led to a preliminary accord between France and the Emperor.13 However, the remaining clarification and settlement of imperial questions necessitated further peace negotiations in Baden, concluding the War of the Spanish Succession with a final treaty.14 The negotiations must have seemed paradoxical, as de Villars and the Prince had encountered each other on the battlefield multiple times. Perhaps for exactly this reason, a South German medal depicts these two commanders at the center of the obverse (fig. 1).15

13 City of Rastatt (ed.), 1714, Friede von Rastatt, Rastatt: Stadtverwaltung, 1974, pp. 9–23. Oliver Fieg, “...gefährliche Conjuncturen und höchst betrübte Kriegszeithen”. Rastatt zwischen Pfälzischem Erbfolgekrieg und Rastatter Frieden, in: Oliver Fieg, Iris Baumgärtner (eds.), Der Friede von Rastatt – “...dass aller Krieg eine Thorheit sey”. Aspekte der Lokal- und Regionalgeschichte im Spanischen Erbfolgekrieg in der Markgrafschaft Baden-Baden, Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2014, pp. 43–57. 14 Rolf Stücheli, “Der europäische Frieden von Baden (1714) und die Eidgenossenschaft”, in: Duchhardt 2013 (as fn. 8), pp. 53–69. 15 Friedrich Wielandt, Münzen und Medaillen zur Geschichte des Türkenlouis und der Stadt Rastatt. Ein Beitrag zur historischen Publizistik, in: Zeitschrift für die Geschichte des Oberrheins 118 (1970), pp.  307–351, pp.  342, cat.-no. 53. Liselotte Popelka (ed.), Eugenius in Nummis. Kriegs- und Friedenstaten des Prinzen Eugen in der Medaille, Vienna, 1986, p. 166, cat.-no. 185. Matthias Ohm, PAX RASTADIENSIS MDCCXIV. Medaillen auf den Friedensschluss von Rastatt 1714, in: Numismatisches Nachrichtenblatt, 3 (2014), pp. 81–83, p. 82. Fieg / Baumgärtner 2014 (as fn. 13), p. 178, cat.-no. 3.23.12.



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Prince Eugene and De Villars are depicted in classicizing armor and magnificently decorated helmets. Sitting on their weapons, they shake their right hands in a gesture of concord.16 The two palm trees in the background, emblems of steadfastness, in combination with the circumscription reveal an ingenious play on words. The circumscription describes the unusual situation in which two former military opponents are now the driving forces of the peace negotiations: ‘The Leaders Came Together, to Shake Hands in Front of the Palmtrees’.17 In classical Latin the word dux simply means “commander” and thus implies a military character. Together with the word palma, describing both the palm of the hand (PALMAS) and the tree (PALMIS), the interplay of text and image establishes an ingenuous pun that only reveals itself to a viewer trained in the nuances of these Latin terms. The composition of the reverse side confirms this hypothesis. There we can see the constellation of Pisces accompanied by the astronomical symbols for Jupiter and Sol. Together, the circumscription and the inscription below reveal the solution to this astronomical picture puzzle: ‘Jupiter and the Sun were coupled together on the 6th of March in the year of 1714’. The medal thus refers to a constellation in the sidereal zodiac that coincided with the day of the signing of the treaty.18 The depiction of the astronomical conjunctio, as Werner Telesko already elucidated, served to affirm a lasting peace, or pax perpetua.19 At the same time, the medalist employed the monarchic iconography of Charles VI and Louis XIV.20 Depicting the dexiosis between two rulers as a symbol for peace does not seem to have been a visual option, because monarchs saw peacebuilding as a duty of their sovereignty to which only they as rulers were entitled.21 The portrayal of the French monarch as Sol had already been established in the Dauphin’s earlier years and reached its high point in 1650. The Académie Royale contributed to the distribution of this image as did the emblematic works of Claude-François Menestrier among

16 The gesture refers an emblem by Alciati, showing two Roman militairs shaking hands in front of a legerkamp captioned with “Concordia” and the subscriptio “So sie sich verbanden in ein Die rechte Hand botten sie dar Einander die treuwen meinend zwar Diß war ir Bündtnuß, weiß und gestalt Der einigkeit ein zeichen alt”. Andrea Alciati, Liber emblematvm D. Andreæ Alciati…verteutscht und an tag geben durch Jeremiam Held von Nördlingen, Frankfurt am Main: Raben, Feyrabends, Hüters, p. 18r–18v, no. 25. 17 CONVENERE DVCES PRO PALMIS IVNGERE PALMAS. 18 Circumscription: IVNGVNTVR IVPPITER ET SOL. Inscription: VI ‧ MARTII ‧ A: MDCCXIIII. Exergue: PAX RASTADIENSIS. 19 Telesko 2013 (as fn. 12), pp. 382–383. Wieland 1970 (as fn. 15), pp. 382–383. A similar medal points out: SIT PERPETVA D.PERPETVAE.S / VI.MART. (It may last. At the day of Saint Perpetua the 6th of March). Wielandt 1970 (as fn. 15), p. 344, cat.-no. 60. 20 See fn. 4. 21 Kaulbach 2013 (as fn. 6), pp. 115–122. Prince Eugene as bringer of Peace can be also found on a medal by Brunner and Nürnberger, with his portrait on the obverse and with an explanation of his name Eugenius (good spirit) and the personification of the Rhine, to which he hands out a caduceus. Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 168, cat.-no. 187.





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others.22 Conversely, Charles VI adopted the image of the highest Olympian, as the engraving on the occasion of his marriage to Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel proves, which presented the pair as Jupiter and Juno.23 The image was further used especially in Baroque ceiling paintings, such as in St. Florian near Linz, where Hungary and Austria pay homage to his personification as Jupiter.24 It is quite striking, that the medal portrays the two negotiators while Louis XIV and Charles VI are solely depicted allegorically. In this case, the peace making is first and foremost represented as a result of the successful negotiations of Prince Eugene and De Villars.

The medal designs of Christoph Fürer von Haimendorf Celebratory medals (Ereignismedaillen) began their success in the second half of the 17th century.25 Next to these medals commissioned for specific events, 18th century medalists produced pieces at their own expense with respect to contemporary historical events (Spekulationsmedaillen). For marketing purposes, the producers used newspaper advertisements as well as printed medal descriptions which explained the content of the medal on a piece of paper and would be sold together with the medal. However, nowadays these descriptions are usually housed in libraries and graphic collections separated from their original context, while the medals are integrated into numismatic cabinets.26 The Vienna University Library holds one such volume in which different

22 Appuhn-Radtke 2005 (as fn.  4), pp.  97–100. Anne Spagnolo-Stiff, Die “Entrée solennelle”. Festarchitektur im französischen Königtum (1700–1750), Weimar: Verlag und Datenbank für Geisteswissenschaften, 1996. Karl Möseneder, Barocke Bildphilosophie und Emblem. Menestriers “L’art des emblêmes” (Sonderabdruck aus: L’ art des emblêmes ou s’einsegne la morale par les figures de la fable, de l’histoire & de la nature / Claude-François Menestrier), Mittenwald: Mäander, 1981. Gérard Sabatier, Medeleine Angelique Lacroix de Chevrières (eds.), Claude-François Ménestrier. Les jésuites et le monde des images, Grenoble: University Press Grenoble, 2009; here in particular the essay by Fabrice Charton. Judi D. Loach: Why Menestrier wrote about emblems, and what audience(s) he had in mind, in: Emblematica. An interdisciplinary journal for emblem studies 12 (2002), p. 223–283. Nikolaus Pevsner, Academies of art, past and present, Cambridge: University Press, 1940, pp. 86–109. Christian Michel, The Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture (1648–1793). The Birth of the French School (first published in French, Geneva 2012), Los Angeles: The Getty Research Institute, 2018, pp. 5–17. 23 Matsche 1981 (as fn. 4), pp. 336–337. Especially for the iconography of Jupiter see pp. 334–342. 24 Selma Krasa-Florian, Die Allegorie der Austria. Die Entstehung des Gesamtstaatsgedankens in der österreichisch-ungarischen Monarchie und die bildende Kunst, Vienna et al.: Böhlau, 2007, p. 37. 25 The term Ereignismedaille means a medal related to contemporary events. 26 George P. Sanders, Catalogus der medailles, of gedenkpenningen, betrekking hebbende op de voornaamste historien der Vereenigde Nederlanden, vervaardigt door de medailleurs Martinus & Joan George Holtzhey, tot Amsterdam, Utrecht: Het Nederlands Muntmuseum, 2003. Anna Lisa Schwartz,



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explanations are pasted and whose title is lettered by hand as follows: “Explanations of many memorial medals struck in XVIII century Augsburg and Nuremberg: How such were issued in combination with single pieces of paper by their own designers”.27 The content spans the period from the end of the 17th century until 1730—the year before the book’s compilation in Lilienfeld in Lower Austria according to the title page. Especially because these medal descriptions with their circumscriptions in Latin address an educated elite, we also have to ask about the inventor, since neither obverse nor reverse are signed. Almost all of the examples therein obtained from Nuremberg bear the initials of the author C.F.v.H. Especially the compositions of the circumscriptions can be linked to the directors of the Latin schools of S. Egidien and S. Laurence, as well as to the German Language Society Pegnesischer Blumenorden.28 In fact, the initials mentioned above can be attributed to Christoph Fürer von Haimendorf VII, Praeses or president of the Language Society since 1709. According to Georg Andreas Will, “he delivered many samples of his humor and his inventive mind”29 and had been “very lucky and ingenious in the creation of medals”.30 That he was not only responsible for the designs, but also for their explanations, is revealed by a commentary in Joachim Negelein’s Thesaurus numismatum modernorum.31 The description accompanying the peace medal of Rastatt begins with: The renewed medal created and engraved for the occasion of the Peace of Rastatt of Nuremberg introduces: the heavenly sign of the Pisces and how on the day of the Peace of Rastatt Jupiter and the Sun were brought together in the same.32

Gedruckte Medaillenbeschreibungen des 18. Jahrhunderts, in: Numismatisches Nachrichtenblatt 67, 7 (2018), pp. 257–260. 27 Erklärung Vieler In diesem XVIII. Seculo zu Augsburg und Nürnberg geprägten Gedächtnuß-Müntzen: Wie solche von den Herrn Erfindern selbsten In einzelnen Zetteln herausgegeben worden, Lilienfeld, 1731, p. 87. Vienna, University Library, I-235.990. 28 Gerd Dethlefs, Die Nürnberger Dichterschule und die Friedensmedaillen 1648/50, in: Wolfenbütteler Barock-Nachrichten 16 (1989), pp. 1–18. 29 “hat er sehr viele Proben seines Witzes und seines erfindsames Kopfes geliefert”. Georg Andreas Will, Nürnbergisches Gelehrten-Lexicon … vol. 5, Nuremberg, Altdorf: Schüpfel, 1802, pp. 374–375. The Flower Society under their leadership of Fürer von Haimendorf Renate Jürgensen, Utile cum dulci. Die Blütezeit des Pegnesischen Blumenordens in Nürnberg 1644 bis 1744, Wiesbaden: Hassarowitz, 1994, pp. 118–120. Renate Jürgensen, Melos conspirant singuli in unum. Repertorium bio-bibliographicum zur Geschichte des Pegnesischen Blumenordens in Nürnberg (1644–1744), Wiesbaden: Hassarowitz, 2006, pp. 541–522. 30 “Erfindung von Medaillen sehr glücklich und sinnreich gewesen”. Georg Andreas Will, Nürnbergisches Gelehrten-lexicon … vol. 1, Nuremberg, Altdorf: Schüpfel, 1755, p. 498. 31 This is mentioned in regards to a medal of Frederick I of Prussia: “in Begleitung einiger Devisen aus allerunterthänigster Devotion ein- und ausgeführet/ von Christoff Fürer/ Haimendorf”, Joachim Negelein, Thesavrvs Nvmismatvm Modernorvm Hvivs Secvli … = Historische Gedächtnuß-Müntzen des Gegenwärtigen Secvli, Oder Gedächtnuß- und Schau-Pfenninge, Nuremberg: Monath, (ca. 1720), p. 840. 32 Erklärung 1731 (as fn. 25), p. 87.





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The main part of the text is dedicated to the astronomical constellation of the conjunctio and the circumscriptions. By mentioning the name day perpetua, which followed the day of the peace agreement,33 the medal equally refers to the wording of the Treaty of Rastatt. For the peace treaty from Baden states a ‘pax christiana perpetua’, therewith following a tradition of Westphalian peace treaties.34 Fürer von Haimendorf then extended the Latin circumscriptions with rhyming couplets: As Jupiter and Phoebus/ found themselves in Heaven/ So did Charles and Louis on Earth join together. Prince Eugenius and Villars, sitting still next to the palm trees/ join their hands/ because Earth and Heaven want it.35

Von Haimendorf’s complex solution for the medal only worked because of the interaction of both image and text on the one side, and astronomical formulas replacing the monarchs’ portraits on the other. The lack of this context is exemplified by a marksman target preserved in Ravensburg.36 The painted target shows the visualization of the obverse with Prince Eugene and De Villars shaking hands, although in this case the circumscription of the medal can be found in the bottom of the target while the image is framed by the writing “PATRIÆ MEMORIA DVLCIS” on its upper margin. The bottom edge also bears the date 30th of July, which suggests that the target was designed for a marksmen’s fair celebrating the Treaty of Rastatt.37

33 Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 166, cat.-no. 185. 34 For the connection between the Westphalian Peace and Baden Telesko 2013 (as fn. 12), pp. 373– 374. On the pax christiana Hans-Martin Kaulbach, Das Bild des Friedens — vor und nach 1648, in: Bußman / Schilling 1998 (as fn. 6), pp. 593–603, p. 593. 35 “Wie der Juppiter und Phöbus/ an dem Himmel sich befunden/ Also haben Carl und Ludwig auf der Erden sich verbunden. Printz Eugenius und Villars, sitzen bey den Palmen still/ fügen ihre Händ zusammen/ weil es Erd und Himmel will.” 36 Wooden target used at a marksmen’s fair in Ravensburg in celebration of the Treaty of Rastatt in 1714. Museum Humpis-Quartier Ravensburg, 88/1171. Fieg / Baumgärtner 2014 (as fn. 15), p. 181, cat. no. 3.26. 37 There were multiple marksmen’s fairs to celebrate the signing of peace treaties. For example in Nuremberg in 1649, in Ravensburg in 1714, and in Regensburg in 1763 to celebrate the Treaty of Hubertusburg. Preserved documents recounting the festivities that took place during the Nuremberg Peace Congress attest to the changing motif from weapon of war to instrument of peace. Johann Klaj composed a poem for an etching by Lucas Schnitzer to commemorate the crossbow competition organized by the imperial ambassador Piccolomini on the 29th of July in Nuremberg: “Mit Schießen wie alhier, mit Schießen daß da nütz in Friedenszeit erfreüt, in strengen Kriegen Schützt.” Lukas Schnitzer (Radierer), Johann Klaj (Verfasser): EIGENTLICHE ABBILDVNG DES WEGEN VÖLLIGGESCHLOSSENEN REICHSFRIEDENS in Nürnberg gehaltenen Armbrust Schießens, Radierung auf Papier, 19,8 × 34 cm (Blatt). Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg, Department of Prints and Drawings, HB 2592, Kapsel 1379a.



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Depictions of peace on Southern German medals commemorating the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden Although Fürer von Haimendorf can be identified as the inventor of the medal, the identity of the medalist still remains unclear. The volume preserved in Vienna contains many descriptions of medals from Nuremberg marked with “C.G.L. Cum Priv.[ilegio] Sac.[rae] Caes.[areae] Maj.[estatis]” next to Fürer von Haimendorf’s initials. The statement refers to Caspar Gottlieb Lauffer, the General Warden of the Mint of the Franconian Reichskreis and a publisher of medals in Nuremberg.38 Since for the 17th century such collaborations are verifiable, it is likely to assume the same for Lauffer and Fürer von Haimendorf.39 Another medal, also designed by Fürer von Haimensdorf, does without the astronomical references and includes the portraits of Charles VI and Louis XIV instead. Both their busts adorn the obverse: they are shown with allonge wigs and laurel wreaths while their armor and commander’s cloaks are hinted at. Their severe facial expressions and scrutinizing looks stand in contrast to the circumscription, which speaks of the ‘Restoration of a Blissful Time’ next to their official titles.40 The phrasing, however, functions as a transition to the reverse side, which addresses the concord between both empires with the Treaty of Baden. (fig. 2).41 In the center of the reverse, a fissured globe is visible whose fracture divides GALLIA and GERMANIA. Jupiter and Sol are situated on each side and under the circumscription ‘Their Union Connects the Circle’ they stitch the globe back together.42 The deeper meaning of the medal is once more revealed by its written description, preserved in a volume in the Library of

38 Valtentin Maler was the first medalist in Nuremberg to mint medals that were intended for the open market instead of being commissioned by the council. For this purpose he let Emperor Rudolf II grant him the privilege to mint medals. On this topic Hermann Maué, Dieter Fischer, Medaillen und Schaumünzen auf Ereignisse in der Reichsstadt Nürnberg 1521–1806, Nuremberg: Verlag des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 2014, pp. 14–15. Brunner, Müller, as well as both Vestners worked for Lauffer. However, on March 6th, 1738 Andreas Vestner was granted the imperial privilege to mint medals. This allowed father and son to build up their own medal shop. Bernheimer 1984 (as fn. 11), p. 24. 39 John R. Paas, Zusammenarbeit in der Herstellung illustrierter Werken im Barockzeitalter. Sigmund von Birken (1626–1681) und Nürnberger Künstler und Verleger, in: Wolfenbütteler Barock-Nachrichten 24 (1997), pp. 217–239. 40 A medal designed and produced in Nuremberg commemorating the Treaty of Rastatt and Baden in 1714. Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna, MK 1365bb. CAROLVS VI ‧ D ‧ G ‧ ROM ‧ IMP ‧ ET LVD ‧ XIIII ‧ D ‧ G ‧ FR ‧ ET NAV ‧ REX ‧ FEL ‧ TEMP ‧ REPERATIO. Gottlieb Caspar Lauffer, Das Laufferische Medaillen-Cabinet. Oder Verzeichniß aller Medaillen, Welche sowohl Die Historischen Gegebenheiten von A. 1679. biß A. 1742. … enthalten, Nuremberg: Lauffer, 1742, pp. 89–90, no. 240. 41 Telesko 2013 (as fn. 12), pp. 383–385. Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 173, cat.-no. 192. 42 HIS IVNCTIS IVNGITVR ORBIS.





Iuguntur Iuppiter et Sol 

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Fig. 2a and 2b: Medal commemorating the Treaty of Rastatt and Baden, designed and produced in Nuremberg. Silver. Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna, Numismatic Collection, MK 1365bb.

the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg.43 Both deities do not merely stitch the globe back together, but “these two Gods so unify with one hand/ through a bond of love/ and with the other they reassemble the divided world”. The bond of love which both hold in their right hand refers to the dextrarum iunctio, a classical numismatic symbol for two (marriage) partners and a symbol for Concordia often used in Early Modern iconography.44 It expresses the eternal character of the peace treaty, for which the astronomical conjunctio was used in the previously introduced medal. The inscription on the medal and the description underscore this aspect, as they refer to the ‘Repeated Concord’ and to peace that had been “concluded in Rastatt in Baden / and confirmed in Baden in Switzerland”.45

43 Sammlungen an Beschreibungen verschiedener Medaillen und Denkmünzen, (1714–1819), fol. 7. Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg, Library, 8° K.839. http://dlib.gnm.de/item/8K839/html [accessed December 6, 2020]. 44 Louis Reekmans, La “dextrarum iunctio” dans l’iconographie romaine et paléochrétienne, in: Bulletin de L’Institut Historique Belge de Rome 31 (1958), pp. 23–95. Dietmar Peil, Ehe- und HochzeitsEmbleme. Anmerkungen zu den Verwendungsmöglichkeiten einer Gattung im Ehe-Diskurs der Frühen Neuzeit, in: Czarnecka / Szafarz (as fn. 2), pp. 101–122. Klaus August Wirth, art. ‚Ehe‘, in: Otto Schmitt (ed.), Reallexikon zur deutschen Kunstgeschichte vol.  4, Munich: Beck et al., 1958, col. 775–786. Victor Mínguez Cornelles, Matrimonio y emblemática. El rito de la ‘dextrarum iunctio’ y la representación de los enlaces nupciales en la Casa de Austria, in: Ignacio Arellano (ed.), Emblemática y religión en la Península ibérica (Siglo de Oro), Frankfurt/M.: Vervuert, 2010, pp. 259–282. 45 VNA DVOS ITERATA DEOS CONCORDIA STRINGIT.



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Not only Fürer von Haimendorf created medal designs referring to the Treaty of Rastatt. Another medal distributed by Lauffer on the occasion of the Treaty of Ryswick also shows a fissured globe inscribed with EVROPA.46 In the hopes that ‘Europe would not completely fall apart’,47 Pax wraps an olive branch around the globe, assisted by Mercury. Concerning the peace iconography and representations of the Treaty of Rastatt, the reverse of this example is also interesting: the personification of rest reclines under an olive tree holding a caduceus. The text connects the state of peace established by the Ryswick Treaty with a tranquility that should not be disturbed anymore.48 Rest—tranquilas or quies respectively—often served to characterize the place of the agreement, Rastatt, because of its eponymous qualities.49 A medal by Georg Wilhelm Vestner displaying the margrave’s residence on the front side is a prime example for this.50 This image is based on a 1705 etching by Rainer Wollenschneider which shows the area in front of the castle grounds as rough terrain.51 In this case, too, the design of the circumscription can be traced back to Fürer von Haimendorf, who here uses a similar pun: “Rastatt/ bringing the peace/ has the name of the deed/ and will hereupon be called for all times: a city of tranquility and rest (Rast-stadt).”52 Fürer von Haimendorf also identifies the source upon for his eponymous design: he referes to Kaspar von Stieler’s Der Teutschen Sprache Stammbaum und Fortwachs, which was published in Nuremberg by Johann Hofman in 1691.53

46 Peace of Ryswick medal 1697, silver, struck, 31,5 mm Dm. Landesmuseum Württemberg, Numismatic Collection, MK 19308. Lauffer 1742 (as fn.  38), p.  45. Written mentions and imagery of Europe appear especially in the context of the Treaties of Nijmegen and Ryswick and propagate the unity of a Christian Europe in the face of the Ottoman threat. On this topic see Lotte Jensen, Vieren van Vrede. Het onstaan van de Nederlandse identiteit, 1648–1815, Nijmegen: Vantilt, 2016, pp. 71–87. HansMartin Kaulbach, Pax im Kontext. Zur Ikonographie von Friedenskonzepten vor und nach 1648, in: De zeventiende eeuw 13 (1997), pp. 323–331, p. 323. Armin Reese, Pax sit Christiana. Die westfälischen Friedensverhandlungen als europäisches Ereignis, Düsseldorf: Schwann, 1988. 47 Circumscription: NE TOTA DEHISCAT. 48 Circumscription: NUNQUAM VIOLETUR AB ÆVO. Exergue: TRANQUILLITAS REDUX. 49 The name of the city originates from the German term Rast-Stätte, which means place of rest. 50 Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 171, cat.-no. 190. Telesko 2013 (as fn. 12), pp. 387–388. Wielandt 1970 (as fn. 15), p. 337, cat.-no. 36. 51 The etching in: Fieg / Baumgärtner 2014 (as fn. 15), p. 185, cat.-no. 4.4. 52 Description of a medal which was engraved for the peace negotiations in Rastatt, letterpress on paper, 35 × 21,4 cm (sheet). Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg, Department of Prints and Drawings, HB 26332, Kapsel-Nr. 1278. Circumscription: DAT PACEM RASTATT. PATRIAE EST VRBS ILLA QVIETIS. Lauffer 1742 (as fn. 38), p. 88. 53 The medal refers to the Treaty of Baden with a mention of the contract location, although the mention is not eponymous. It shows a view of the city situated near the Limmat, in which Mars washes his sword. The circumscription HAS TANDEM AD THERMAS FESSVS MARS ABLVIT ENSEM (At these warm wellsprings the tired Mars finally washes off his sword) references Baden’s quality as a bath and resort location. Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 172, cat.-no. 191.





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Fig. 3a and 3b: Medal commemorating the Treaty of Rastatt, Martin Brunner. Silver. Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg, Numismatic Collection, Med 1621.

Another medal not yet accredited to Fürer von Haimendorf by the city Master of Mint Georg Friedrich Nürnberger and Martin Brunner displays the former enemies on the battlefield now peacefully united.54 The obverse designed by Nürnberger is adorned by two portraits of Eugene of Savoy and de Villars. Both wear an allonge wig and a decorated cuirass displaying the Collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece and the Order of the Holy Ghost respectively. The meaning of the circumscription ‘Once Two Flashes in War’55 only makes sense in conjunction with the reverse (fig. 3): ‘Now Instruments of Quiet’.56 In this way Brunner ties his work in with the previously used iconography of rest and tranquility. Nevertheless, the image on the medal focuses on the two peacefully united former enemies by using an emblem that was particularly meaningful in a local context. The emblem of crossed swords entwined in an olive branch can be found in an emblematic work in Nuremberg: the symbol and the motto rigorem clementia temperet (may the mild temper the strong) decorated the ceiling of the great chamber of the town hall. The sword, a symbol of the good ruler, is here combined with the olive branch and thus gains the status of a judicial emblem proscribing judicial clemency. The emblems of the courtroom were circulated via copper engravings by Pieter Isselburg, so that they

54 Popelka 1986 (as fn. 15), p. 167, cat.-no. 186. Wielandt 1970 (as fn. 15), pp. 341–342, cat.-no. 52. Ohm 2014 (as fn. 15), p. 82. Fieg / Baumgärtner 2014 (as fn. 15), p. 178, cat.-no. 3.23.11. 55 OLIM DVO FVLMINA BELLI. 56 NVNC INSTRVMENTA QVIETIS.



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were still available as templates for medalists in the 18th century.57 On the medal, a Putto can be seen signing a document, visualizing the conclusion of a treaty. The helmet serving as an inkwell follows an iconographic tradition that, based on a biblical motive, was developed in the context of the Westphalian Peace. The source is Isaiah 2:4 where the beating of swords into plowshares is the metaphor used to express peace leading to a recovery of agriculture.58 The symbolical transformation of a former tool of war into a tool of peace was transferred onto daily life in the context of the Westphalian Peace for which the pamphlet Schertzgedicht, Die Früchte deß Friedens Vorstellent, first published by Paulus Fürst, is the best example.59 It caricatures the manner in which the population deals with soldiers and their equipment, with a lance being repurposed as a chicken ladder or a person defecating into a war drum.

Conclusion The juxtaposition of the medal by Lauffer based on Fürer von Haimendorf’s designs on the one hand, and the design by Brunner and Nürnberger on the other, demonstrates the varying possibilities of visualizing former enemies united in peaceful concord. They exemplify how the iconography of peace shifted from the use of rather abstract and allegorical imagery to the the specific depiction of diplomats and negotiators. Other than the treaty of Utrecht in 1713 with a large amount of diplomats involved, the treaties of Rastatt and Baden were mainly negotiated by Prince Eugene and De Villars. The expansion of diplomatic culture as a result of the large peace conferences in especially the 17th century resulted in new images of peace. For the medals referring to the treaties of Rastatt and Baden, artists could not only put two negotiators into the center of their compositions, but also two former opponents on the battlefield. Fürer von Haimendorf’s complex inventions were addressed to an educated audience, but with Lauffer’s published descriptions they could even reveal their meanings to a less educated audience. The latter also enables a more detailed

57 Friedensbilder: Archiv Hans-Martin Kaulbach (Staatsgalerie Stuttgart). Mara Wade, Von Schedels Weltchronik bis zu Birkens Friedensdichtungen: eine Nürnberger emblematisch-ikonographische Tradition im Kontext, in: Gerhard F. Strasser, Mara Wade (eds.), Domänen des Emblems: außerliterarische Anwendungen der Emblematik, Wiesbaden: Hassarrowitz 2004, pp.  54–78. Arthur Henkel, Albrecht Schöne, Handbuch zur Sinnbildkunst des XVI. und XVII. Jahrhunderts, Stuttgart: Metzler, 1967, col. 215. Matthias Mende, Das alte Nürnberger Rathaus vol.  1, Nuremberg: Stadtgeschichtl. Museen, 1979, pp. 356–359. 58 Kaulbach 2013 (as fn. 6), pp. 85–88. 59 https://objektkatalog.gnm.de/objekt/HB15054 [accessed December 6, 2020].





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research into the subject matter by partially indicating the sources of the images. Brunner and Nürnberger’s medal exemplifies a far more simplified visualization, although the Latin circumscriptions still require a certain level of education. Nevertheless, all three examples mentioned above use the iconography of peace which had established itself in the German—and more specifically Southern German— region in the second half of the 17th century, and which received new impulses in the following century. This can be attributed to the continued demand for celebratory medals in the 18th century, which manifested itself in the widely published collections of medal descriptions.



Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

Felicitas Duplex

A Vieira Lusitano’s Medal Celebrating the Hispano-Portuguese Double-Wedding of 1729 In 1729 a double Luso-Spanish wedding marked a turning point in the relations between the two Iberian monarchies, which had deteriorated after the Portuguese sided with the Archduke Charles during the Spanish War of Succession, one of the last “disagreements” since the Restauration in 1640.1 Although peace between Spain and Portugal was re-established when the Treaty of Utrecht was signed, the two countries remained wary of each other, and the double betrothal, or “the exchange of princesses” as it was known, was a means to heal old wounds. María Bárbara de Braganza was to become queen of Spain through her marriage to the future king Ferdinand VI, and Mariana Victoria de Bourbon would become the Portuguese counterpart through her betrothal to Joseph I. Even though these royal weddings came after a failed engagement between the Spanish princess and the French king, Louis XV, the Spanish initiative was highly acclaimed in Lisbon. Negotiations for the weddings were initiated in 1725, and from the moment they were sealed the Portuguese side demonstrated the most determination in displaying signs of jubilation and magnificence; a Portuguese princess had been placed on “one of the most important thrones of the Catholic Powers of primera grandeza”.2 Despite several delays, the preparations finally culminated in a lavish ceremony in January of 1729 on an ephemeral structure over the Caia river, on the border between Elvas and Badajoz. There was great concern to maintain equality in the protocol, which transformed the whole ceremonial into a race to safeguard the dignity of both kings. Among the various written and figurative manifestations proclaiming this important celebration are three drawings for a commemorative medal designed by Francisco Vieira de Matos (1699–1783), aka Vieira Lusitano, one in the Museu Nacional de

This chapter was part of the Ramón y Cajal project (2017-22131) “Academias artísticas, diplomacia e identidad de España y Portugal en la Roma de la primera mitad del siglo XVIII” funded by the Spanish Ministry of Science and Innovation. 1 Fernando Bouza Álvarez, Portugal no tempo dos Felipes. Política, Cultura, Representaçoes (1580– 1668), Lisbon: Cosmos, 2000; John H. Elliot, Revueltas en la monarquía española, in: John H. Elliot, Roland Mousnier, Marc Raeff, J. W. Smit and Lawrence Stone (eds.) Revoluciones y rebeliones de la Europa Moderna, Barcelona: Altaya, 1997, pp. 123–144. 2 Antonio Filipe Pimentel, El “intercambio de las princesas”: arte y política en las fiestas de la boda entre Fernando de Borbón y Bárbara de Braganza, in: Quintana 9 (2010), pp. 49–73, p. 50. See also Arthur Lamas, Medalha commemorativa da institução da Academia Real da Historia Portuguesa, in: O Archeologo Português 12 (1907), pp. 52–70, p. 68.

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 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

Fig. 1: Drawing of a medal commemorating the Hispano-Portuguese Double Weddings, Vieira Lusitano, h. 1729. Red-chalk and paper, Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, Lisbon, inv. 2354/9.





Felicitas Duplex 

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Arte Antiga (Lisbon), another in the Museu de Évora, and the last one in the Museo del Prado (Madrid).3 Until now it has not been possible to determine whether the medal was ever minted, but the drawing has gone largely unnoticed by scholars,4 who never associated it to the double wedding, even though historiography specialized in numismatics suggested it as such.5 We have no information about Vieira’s training to be an engraver and designer of medals, so his career can only be reconstructed through his drawings and engravings. The two largest collections of his work are in Portugal, in the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga and the Museu de Évora, along with other drawings for medals. The one under study is a counterproof (fig. 1; MNAA inv. 2354) from an original drawing in red chalk, whose iconography enables a post quem dating and thus a more precise reconstruction of Vieira’s career as a designer of medals. The drawing in the Museo del Prado, heretofore unpublished and unattributed, is a couterproof,6 a common practice among artists, and a way of keeping records of their own creations. So far only the design for the reverse is known, although it can be assumed that the obverse would have had the effigy of John V.7 In the image a couple is standing on the left with their arms over each other’s shoulders. The male figure is Hymenaeus, who holds a torch in his left hand. His partner, wearing a himation and crowned with wheat shafts or laurel leaves, holds a caduceus, which makes its identification complex. At their feet is the horn of abundance, invoking a divinity associated to nature and its fruits such as Demeter / Ceres, the perfect deity to invoke fertility, and often associated with Hymenaeus. Both the cornucopia and the caduceus are also held by the allegorical figures of Peace and Abundance, equally appropriate for a union between two crowns that were going through a complicated period. Nevertheless, the source for this iconography seems to be ancient Roman coins, where, from the 2nd and 3rd centuries AC onwards, the divine personification of Felicitas was depicted holding a caduceus and

3 MNAA, inv. 2354 (134 × 125 mm.); ME inv. 701 (diam. 93 mm.) and in Museo del Prado, inv. D003519 (173 × 137 mm.). Regarding Vieira’s drawings for medals see Pilar Diez del Corral, Tres diseños para medallas de Vieira Lusitano en el Museo del Prado, (forthcoming). 4 In her monograph on 18th century Portuguese art, Delaforce published one of the drawings of the medal, but without tackling its iconography. Angela Delaforce, Art and Patronage in EighteenthCentury Portugal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002, p. 153. 5 Lamas 1907 (as fn. 2), p. 69 fn. 1. 6 The drawing is available here: https://www.museodelprado.es/coleccion/obra-de-arte/proyecto-demedalla/aa03cad4-2ef4-49da-9352-a600ba28c4d6?searchid=708f9db9-9518-55bc-e393-bce4a7fc2407 [accessed March 9, 2021]. 7 “All the new coins will show my effigy and name on one side, as some of the old kings in these reigns used to mint as well as almost all the Princes of Europe right now” This quote comes from a new law issued by the Portuguese monarch, John V, in April 1722. António Caetano de Sousa, História Genealogica da Casa real portuguesa (vol. IV), Lisboa occidental: Na officina de Joseph Antonio da Sylva, 1735, p. 408.



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accompanied by a cornucopia.8 Felicitas is a symbol of wealth and prosperity and its cult is recorded at least since the 2nd century B.C. It’s plausible that Vieira could have seen some of these ancient coins in a display cabinet belonging to his protector, the marquis of Fontes, or during his stay in Rome, but it is more probable that he had found inspiration in the personification of Felicitas in Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia (Rome, 1603). The pairing of Hymenaeus and Felicitas makes perfect sense in this particular context of a double wedding. To the right of both divinities are two seated women wearing crowns, embracing. They are allegories of the Iberian monarchies and allude to the two princesses being exchanged, corroborated by the dragon of the House of Braganza at the feet of the figure on the right. The delicate state of the drawing makes it difficult to identify the attribute at the feet of the other woman, but after double-checking with the drawing in the Museo del Prado, it appears to be a hare.9 The correct heraldic animal would have been a lion, the emblem of the House of Bourbon. The scene is completed with an inscription in Latin, “Felicitas Duplex”, suggesting double marital happiness and prosperity. The other preparatory drawing kept in the Museu de Évora (ME 701) is draft-like style, which combines pencil with red chalk, and belongs to an earlier moment of the artistic praxis. Surprisingly Felicitas was wrongly identified as Hermes, merely because of his caduceus.10 The work is not dated, but its iconography indicates that it was commissioned towards the end of 1728, or early 1729 at least. Vieira had left Rome sometime in the spring of 1728 as a result of a diplomatic rift between John V and the Roman court

8 I am most grateful to João Pedro Vieira, curator at the Money Museum Division (Lisbon), who kindly provided me with this precious information, and shared his views on the topic after reading this chapter. 9 About the lion see Rodríguez Moya, Inmaculada, Lusitania liberata. La guerra libresca y simbólica entre España y Portugal. 1639–1668, in: Rafael García Mahiques, Vicent Zuriaga Senent (eds.), Imagen y cultura. La interpretación de las Imágenes como Historia Cultural, vol II, Valencia: Generalitat Valenciana, 2008, pp. 1377–1392. A hare could refer to the etymology of Hispania as land of rabbits, which would certainly be inappropriate for the context since the lion corresponded to the rank in the scene. This aspect should not be rejected given the unstable relations between Phillip V and John V and could have constituted a “visual impertinence” in the struggle to prevail over the neighboring king. A similar case, though this time in terms of treatment and titles, is revealed in the Portuguese king’s correspondence to his Spanish counterpart. See José Damião Rodrigues, Os horizontes bourbónicos do Reinado de D. João V, in: David Martín Marcos (ed.), Monarquías encontradas. Estudios sobre Portugal y España en los siglos XVII y XVIII, Madrid: Sílex, 2013, pp. 177–204. A hare seems to appear more frequently in Eighteenth and Nineteenth prints. 10 Lamas 1907 (as fn.  2), p.  69 fn.  1. See: http://www.matriznet.dgpc.pt/MatrizNet/Objectos/ ObjectosConsultar.aspx?IdReg=15129 [accessed January 20, 2021].





Felicitas Duplex 

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over an issue concerning the Nuncio Bichi nomination for cardinal,11 whereby he may have received the commission after his arrival in Lisbon. Nevertheless, it is prudent to keep in mind that medals were also commissioned after the commemorated event displayed in their body took place. That explains why the year in the exergue is not always a useful way of datation. For the sake of this article, we think that this particular medal may have been commissioned around the very date of the double wedding, and is related to an engraved allegory that will be discussed below. Vieira’s international career began early when D. Rodrigo de Sá e Meneses (1676– 1733), marquis of Fontes, noticed his aptitude for drawing and took the young artist to Rome with him in 1712 where he was ambassador extraordinary for John V. The marquis of Fontes had a special background; in order to put Portugal in the European arena the Portuguese king had supported that most of his legates were to be members of an emerging new network of intellectuals. The marquis was one of the members of that circle, a real Portuguese cenacle which was a part of the Republic of Letters. Between 1712 and 1719 young Vieira was trained in the best workshops of the time, under the direction of the masters Francesco Trevisani and Benedetto Luti.12 While he was becoming skilled in the Roman taste, the marquis of Fontes commissioned him with a series of drawings to visually document the most important works of the Pontifical City and the splendor of its celebrations, so that the Portuguese king could obtain firsthand knowledge of the city and its art for he was not able to visit it personally.13 The marquis of Fontes was an art enthusiast, particularly regarding architecture, and during his mission in Rome he acquired art pieces for his personal collection. Vieira’s first contact with the world of medals and numismatics occurred probably in the ambassador’s palace, since the later had bought engraved gems (cameos and intaglios), medals and coins to enrich his art collection.14 In those years Vieira learned the rudiments of engraving, which later would be a good source of revenue for him. His earliest known work is a view of Lisbon during the period of the Muslim occupation, which was part of the edition of El Alphonso

11 Regarding this issue see: Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal (BNP), Reservados, cod.35., f.2r–2v. ‘Relação do que succedeo na Corte de Lisboa entre o Rey e o Mons.or Firrão Arcebispo de Nicea designado Nuncio neste Reyno’; Jaime Cortesão, Alexandre de Gusmão y el Tratado de Madrid, vol. 2, Rio de Janeiro 1950, pp. 261 and ff. and David Martin Marcos, Beyond policy: shaping the image of John V of Portugal in Rome, in: Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira (ed.), Politics and the Arts in Lisbon and Rome: The Roman Dream of John V of Portugal, Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment, Liverpool University Press, 2019, pp. 17–41, pp. 35–40. 12 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira, A Lisbona le spalle, a Roma il volto. Vieira Lusitano un artista portugués en la Roma del Primo Settecento, in: Ariane Varela Braga and Thomas True (eds.), Roma e gli artisti stranieri. Intregrazione, reti e identità (ss. XVI–XX), Rome: Pensieri ed Arte, 2018, pp. 189–202. 13 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira, El Kavalierstour de Juan V por Europa: génesis, precedentes y significado de un viaje frustrado, in: Acta Artis 6 (2018), pp.  97–111; https://doi.org/10.1344/ actaartis.6.2018.27491. 14 Delaforce 2002 (as fn. 4), p. 416 fn. 146.



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(Lucca, 1716) by D. Francisco Botelho de Moraes e Vasconcelhos, also a member of the marquis’ court in Rome.15 The first medal design attributed to Vieira dates to 1717, and although the original medal is not known (if it was ever minted at all) the engraving is a perfect example of his style. The obverse bears an effigy of his patron and mentor, the marquis of Fontes, while the back has a ship sailing past the tower of Belem in the estuary of the Tagus river, in reference to the ambassador’s mission.16 It is plausible to assume that the commission of the “Felicitas Duplex” medal was part of the enormous project of expenditure and exaltation of the diplomatic triumph that this union implied for the Portuguese monarchy, which apart from the prestige that it entailed, compensated for certain affronts suffered in the international arena, like exclusion by the French monarchy from the negotiations of the Congress of Cambrai in 1720.17 The various projects drawn up to celebrate this union must have included the production of commemorative medals, a customary practice at the time which had given good results in the past. Medals were valuable propagandistic elements for the Portuguese crown, and fit right into the role that John V envisioned for the arts in his policies.18 The medals were not intended for a wide sector of the population, but rather for a very select group, since the subtle designs full of emblematic and allegorical elements and the inscriptions in Latin were beyond the reach of the illiterate majority. Nevertheless, they were key mementos of an important event, and it cannot be forgotten that even though the number of pieces were limited, the propagation of their theme could be done through engravings, which had a much wider impact. John V’s interest in medals was revealed early on in his reign and was representative of his firm decision to create a strong image of Portugal’s power, as these had previously been little used in Portugal. Even though historiography specialized in numismatics shows how rare these pieces are, as does the silence of historians and art historians in this respect, the truth is that medals from the Joanine period played an important and unprecedented role in the celebration of events and royal feats. There are more preparatory designs than actual medals, but both the arrival of specialized engravers from abroad, and the interest in training local artists was

15 Luiz Xavier Da Costa, Francisco Vieira Lusitano, poeta e abridor de águas-fortes, Coimbra: Impresa da Universidade, 1929, p. 59. 16 Ibid., pp.  62–63. The engraving of the medal is kept at the BNP, E.75 PQ.; /http://purl.pt/22541 [accessed May 9, 2019]. 17 Pimentel 2010 (as fn. 2), p. 50. 18 The use of images by monarchies for propagandistic purposes leads us to delimit the term “propaganda”, which in this case is completely anachronistic, but does not cease to be widely disseminated in art history studies. However, it is a matter that is beyond the scope of this work, so I refer to the excellent and concise use of the term in a similar context, made by Jutta Schummann. Die andere Sonne. Kaiserbild un Medienstrategien im Zeitalter Leopolds I., Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2003 pp. 33–36.





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evident at least since 1720 when the French engraver Antonio Mengin (1690–1772) was invited to Lisbon.19 Half way through that year Mengin was named Moneyer and shortly afterwards, Engraver General of Medals and Coin Dies of the Kingdom. Presumably his difficult character and his refusal to train young Portuguese apprentices led the king to invite François Marteau, a few months later, to join the National Mint and take on the teaching job declined by Mengin.20 It is plausible that the king’s interest in numismatics was fueled by the marquis of Fontes, one of his closest councilors, who would have pointed out its propagandistic value. The marquis returned to Lisbon with his own collection of coins, medals and engraved gems, a common practice at the time, and it is known that he encouraged young Vieira to make copies of these at least during his stay in Rome. Apart from all of this, after his return to Lisbon in 1718, the marquis was immersed in a project that was very dear to him: the creation of the Royal Academy of Portuguese History. By his initiative, the institution took care of the conservation and study of old medals and coins among other tasks devoted to the study of the Civic and Ecclesiastical History of Portugal. On 22 October 1721 a celebration was held in the academy for John V’s birthday, and the marquis had a medal especially conceived for the occasion. It was supposed to commemorate the role played by the King in promoting the Academy that was being inaugurated on 8 December 1720. Vieira, who by then had probably returned or in his way to Rome, designed it; both the preparatory drawing and the medal have survived.21 The obverse displays an effigy of John V and the reverse an allegory of History kneeling to receive the honors of the king, who is portrayed as a Roman emperor. In the exergue there is an inscription that alludes to the royal founder of the academy. The marquis dedicated several years to the research and study of coins and medals with the purpose of publishing a history of these in Portugal, in the style of the famous Histoire métallique of Louis XIV.22 Although this project remained unfinished because of the untimely death of the marquis, the fruit of his work was not wasted, as it was

19 On the Mengin family see: Carlos Andrade Pernas, As medalhas dos Mengin, in: Revista Moeda XLIII-3 (2018), pp. 201–207. 20 Augusto C. Teixeira de Aragão, Descripção geral e histórica das moedas cunhadas em nome dos reis, regentes e gobernadores de Portugal, Lisbon: Imprensa nacional, 1875, vol. I, pp. 76–77. Mengin was supposed to be General Minter of Coins and Marteau Minter of Medals. 21 Museu da Casa da Moeda, 5 e 2968. On this silver medal see Lamas 1907 (as in fn. 2). The preparatory drawing is kept at the Museu de Évora, inv. 654-2. There are two other copies of this medal in gold: one in the Palácio Nacional da Ajuda (PNA inv. 4878) and another in the Palácio Nacional de Mafra (PNM 7493). 22 The project intended to glorify the French king through a study of his image in numismatics and medals. Louvois, protector of the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture, was the driving force behind the idea, but it would not be printed until 1702, after Menestrier (Histoire du Roi Louis Le Grand, par les médailles) had done so first in 1689. Víctor Mínguez Cornelles, Los Reyes Solares: iconografía astral de la monarquía hispánica, Castellón: Publicaciones Universitat Jaume I, 2001, p. 74.



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published in the fourth volume of the História Genealógica da Casa Real Portuguesa by Antonio Caetano de Sousa. In this work the author rendered honors to the marquis as the real promoter of the work, and the first Portuguese to undertake this task.23 The marquis was not the only ambassador who understood the propagandistic value and interest of medals. The count of Ribeira-Grande, first assigned to Paris, and later an important figure in the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht ordered at least three types of medals celebrating the long-awaited peace, one of them with the effigy of John V that was to be distributed in his triumphal entrance into Paris in 1715.24 The years prior to Mengin’s arrival in Lisbon provided a perfect environment for the development of Portuguese medal making, very probably influenced by early diplomatic, and military victories that the ambassadors of the king knew how to exploit. Undoubtedly the most well-known was the Battle of Matapán in 1717, which put the crowning touch on the mission of the marquis of Fontes and for which at least two commemorative medals were minted, one devoted to the ambassador’s mission and the other to the King’s victory over the Ottomans. The former is the one recorded by an engraving by Vieira Lusitano mentioned above, and the latter was commissioned to Ottone Hamerani by the marquis25. Regarding the defeat of the Turks, John V had a recent example of how to publicize his victories: his father-in-law, the emperor Leopold I whose extensive production of medals included many exalting his role in the struggle against the Ottoman menace.26 Given this background of the use of medals for propagandistic purposes, it is perfectly understandable that a diplomatic success on the scale of the Hispano-Portuguese double weddings would inspire the king to order commemorative medals. The lack of information about whether the “Felicitas duplex” medal was ever minted requires an assessment of its real impact, but surely Vieira was behind the project for which he designed several models.

23 Sousa 1735 (as in fn. 7), p. 4. 24 Manuel Bernardo Lopes Fernandes, Memoria das medalhas e condecorações portuguesas e das esrangeiras com relação a Portugal, Lisboa: Academia Real das Sciencias, 1861 pp. 19–21; José Leite de Vasconcellos, Medalhas do conde da Ribeira-Grande, in: O Archeologo Português II (1896), pp. 28–29 and Arthur Lamas, Medalhas da Guerra de Successão de Hespanha, referentes a Portugal, in: O Archeologo Português 11(1906), pp. 167–179, p. 171. 25 Hamerani’s commission is documented in the Biblioteca de Ajuda (BA), 49-VI-29. A rare model in wax of this medal is preserved in the Bristish Museum (inv. 1997.1072,84 and 38). See Jack Hintin, Forming designs, shaping medals. A collection of wax models by the Hamerani, in: The medal 41 (2002), pp. 3–57, esp. p. 23. 26 Schumann 2003 (as fn. 17), pp. 323–331. The typical coinage before John V was mainly aniconic but the King probably took inspiration for his reform of the Royal Mint as a result of both his counsellors’ advice (the marquis de Fontes was the key) and the Habsburg influence that developed the model of baroque effigy for coins in the seventeenth century. See Mário Bruno Pastor, O retrato e as representações ornamentais nas armas reais portuguesas em amoedações de ouro cunhadas entre 1722 e 1878, in: Revista M 0 (2017), pp. 80–111, p. 88.





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The Museu de Évora keeps a red chalk drawing that depicts the back of another medal dedicated to the betrothals, of which again there is no known medal.27 It represents a scene of triumph in the purist classical tradition, with Hymenaeus holding the reins of a chariot in which Minerva is riding and bearing the arms of Portugal and wearing a helmet with the Braganza dragon. There is a reference to the arrival of the future king and queen of Portugal in the exergue and in the inscription “Concordiae Triumphum”. This chariot model is found in German exemplars, like the medal that celebrates the Hispano-Batavian peace treaties, the Peace of Westphalia, in 1648. There are numerous copies of this piece, which was the work of the mint-master of Münster, Egelbert Ketteler and of Johannes Loof, and displays Peace with the caduceus and the horn of abundance riding in a chariot pulled by two crowned lions, alluding the Spanish monarchy and the United Provinces of Holland.28 Vieira’s drawing has particular interest because it shows the intermediate phase of the creative process, with annotations suggesting improvements for the next version. In the center it is possible to read the handwritten words “i carateri più picini”, referring to the excessively large size of the letters of the inscription. While that second medal was clearly modelled on Roman triumphs, the source of inspiration for the “Felicitas duplex” medal could be an engraving produced on occasion of the wedding and now preserved in the BNP (National Library of Portugal, fig. 2).29 It is an etching by François Harrewyn from 1729 representing a similar version but with a more complex spatial conception. The scene shows a powerful beam of light shining down amid erotes holding emblems (reinforcing the idea of the matrimonial union) and a young Hymenaeus among the clouds. The light illuminates the allegories of Spain and Portugal, with their heraldic animals and arms, as they are about to be coronated. In the forefront, in the dark we see Mars vanquished and with his hands tied, the classical iconography of defeat. In the background a seascape unfolds with several ships, alluding to the naval power of the two great empires now united. Below the engraving is the title, verse 24 from the Book of Genesis (“Erunt duo in carne una”) and a poetic composition in Latin that reinforces the joyous message of union of the two crowns to the greater glory of the Iberian monarchies. Harrewyn belonged to a family of Flemish engravers who had worked previously for Portuguese patrons. Théodore André, probably his brother, was hired by Diogo Men-

27 ME 674/1, see: http://www.matriznet.dgpc.pt/MatrizNet/Objectos/ObjectosConsultar.aspx?IdReg= 18844 [accessed May 9, 2019]. 28 MAN, 2009/66/59, see: http://ceres.mcu.es/pages/Main?idt=51382&inventary=2009/66/59&table= FMUS&museum=MAN [accessed May, 9, 2019] I thank Anna-Lisa Schwartz for pointing this source out. 29 “Erunt duo in carne una”, François Harrewyn, 1729, BNP, E. 237. A.; http://purl.pt/6883 [accessed May 9, 2019].



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 Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira

Fig. 2: Engraving commemorating the Hispano-Portuguese Double Weddings, François Harrewyn, 1729. Ink and paper, Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal, E. 237. A.





Felicitas Duplex 

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donça Corte-Real,30 ambassador to the Hague, to become an engraver for the King of Portugal and he arrived at the Portuguese court in 1726 with his wife and children. Two years later, in 1728, the experienced engraver Pierre Massar de Rochefort joined them, and was appointed Royal engraver, the same title he had held in France. In the case of François Harrewyn, we know that he spent some time in Lisbon, probably around the same years as his brother, and appears from 1734 onwards as an engraver for the emperor Charles VI.31 During his sojourn in the court of John V his signed works indicate Lisbon as the place of production, which raises questions about his status at the time that the engraving of the double wedding was made, since he signed as “Clientissimus Subditus et Sculptor Sacrae sua Cesarae Catolice Majestatis Franª Harrewyn 1729”. Further doubts arise about who ordered the engraving since Sacred Caesarian Catholic [Royal] Majesty (Sacra Cesárea Católica [Real] Majestad) was a title used by Charles V as king and emperor of Spain and was claimed by the Archduke Charles during the War of Succession. It could not, therefore, refer to the Portuguese king but rather to the present emperor, Charles VI, situating Harrewyn as an artist of the Austrian court before 1734. If this was the case, Harrewyn would have carried out the emperor’s commission, thus honoring the support he had received from the Portuguese in his cause for the throne of Spain, or merely decided to send a gift to Lisbon on account of being the queen’s brother. The “loan” of artists among the courts was not unusual, and in this case was even more justified by the blood ties between the two crowns. Harrewyn and Vieira were in Lisbon at the same period, and they collaborated together in some commissions. The Flemish artist engraved Vieira’s design for the cover of the book Memorias para la Historia de Portugal de Joseph Soares da Silva (Lisboa; Officina Joseph Antonio da Sylva, 1730–1734) or the ex-libris of Diogo Fernandes de Almeida, Principal of the Patriarchal Church of Lisbon and member of the Royal Academy of Portuguese History and also Vieira’s drawing of the Allegory of the Foundation of the Academia Real da História Portuguesa (1728). Harrewyn’s style was somewhat old-school, an aspect that Vieira probably liked since his own sources of inspiration were often from 17th century works from artists like Andrea Sacchi o Domenichino.32 Another important element to understand the affinity between both artists is the fact that Harrewyn had been Minter in the Mint in Brussels, undoubtedly an advantage for Vieira, who was getting established in Lisbon as a designer and engraver of medals, as well as a painter. In the “Felicitas duplex” medal it is difficult to decide whether Vieira or Harrewyn was the author of the idea of the two allegories in a fraternal embrace, which was a new motif in Portugal but the origins of which can be found in medieval psalters and bibles and were quite popular from the 16th century onwards. This iconographic theme

30 Ernesto Soares, História da gravura artística em Portugal, vol. I, Lisbon: 1971, p. 332. 31 Ibid., p. 332. 32 Diez del Corral 2019 (as fn. 11), pp. 191–195.



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is the visual materialization of “Steadfast love and faithfulness meet; righteousness and peace kiss each other” (Psalm, 85, 10) and appeared frequently associated to representations of “pax veneta”, and in central European images of the emperor Ferdinand II, the Dukes of Bavaria and the emperor Rudolph II.33 Both psalms and images were used to decorate medals for the imperial city of Nuremberg; it is feasible that Harrewyn had firsthand knowledge of the iconographic motif and used it freely in his engraving, which would explain Viera’s choice of this theme. Besides the intrinsic artistic value of the medal and its place in Vieira’s career as a designer the main concern about the red-chalk drawings under scrutiny is the circumstances around the commission. Unfortunately no written sources or the medal itself had been unearthed so far, however it is worth mentioning that there is a letter written by the marquis de Fontes and addressed to Count Villa Maior (at that time secretary of the Academy) that seems to tackle the issue. The marquis wrote from Madrid on 24th  February 1728 when he was the appointed ambassador before Philipp V to manage the “princesses’ exchange” on the Spanish side.34 He proposed some ideas about how to proceed with a commission of two identical medals to commemorate the double weddings and provided portraits of the Spanish siblings. As an experienced diplomat he also mentioned the importance of designing both medals, stressing both couples as equals to preserve the dignity of both reigns. It is also clear from the reading of the letter that he was expecting some reluctance from his Portuguese counterparts in Lisbon. It seems he was right, there is no trace of that commission and even if Vieira’s drawings did not match with the marquis’ description of the medals it is plausible to think that the “Felicitas duplex” was somehow a compromise solution that could have been conceived in the same context. In the “Felicitas duplex” red chalk drawings, Viera created an easy to read image of the double weddings. It is undoubtedly a fine example of the elegance that he achieved in the design of these types of pieces, showing his versatility as an artist, a fact that is rarely mentioned in specialized bibliography and deserves more attention. Why this commission was not completed is not known, but Vieira provided a simple and flawless image of the diplomatic benefits that would ensue for both kingdoms from the weddings, who as neighbors were fated to get along.

33 See: Rainer Wohlfeil, Pax antwerpiensis. Eine Fallstudie zu Verbildlichungen der Friedensidee im 16. Jahrhundert am Beispiel der Allegorie “Kuß von Gerechtigkeit und Friede”, in: Brigitte Tolkemitt (ed.), Historische Bildkunde. Probleme, Wege, Beispiele, Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1991, pp. 211– 260; Klaus Schreiner, “Gerechtigkeit und Frieden haben sich geküsst” (Ps 84, 11). Friedensstiftung durch symbolisches Handeln, in: Ulrich Meier, Gerd Schwerhoff and Gabriela Signori (ed.), Rituale, Zeichen, Bilder. Formen und Funktionen symbolischer Kommunikation im Mittelalter, Köln: Böhlau (Norm und Struktur, 40), 2001, pp. 65–124. I would like to thank Anna-Lisa Schwartz for her precious help providing me with bibliography on the topic. 34 BNP, Ms 712 fols. 137–138 The letter is transcribed and widely discussed in Lamas 1907 (as fn. 2), pp. 66–68.



Jesuits and Diplomacy

Lise Puyo

The Huron-Wendat Wampum Belt at Chartres Indigenous Negotiations with the Divine In 1678, the Huron-Wendat1 convert community living at the Jesuit mission of Lorette, Canada, wove and sent a wampum belt to the cathedral chapter at Chartres, France (1).2 This specimen is currently the earliest wampum belt to be dated with certainty that remains in French collections. Measuring 143 centimeters (56 inches) long, this particular belt features more than three thousand five hundred beads, and bears the words: Virgini Parituræ Votum Huronum (“Offering from the Hurons to the Virgin who Shall Give Birth”). The canons of Chartres cathedral received it on March 3rd, 1678.3 This constitutes a remarkable case among wampum collections today, as archival evidence documenting its provenance and meaning is still linked to the object. Letters sent by Jesuit missionaries at Lorette to the chapter at Chartres and a speech in the Wendat language yield precious information regarding the date when the belt was made, where and how it was displayed, and what the chapter sent in return. The correspondence regarding this particular belt, spanning over two years (1678–1680), was printed by the chapter in 1700.4 After briefly contextualizing wampum use and circulation in the American Northeast, this chapter will stress the singularity of the Wendat belt at Chartres. Although this belt has generated a rather large body of scholarship, its materiality remains to be interrogated in relation to its message. We will first consider the discursive strategies the Wendat community at Lorette used to address the recipient of this message: the chapter of Chartres. Beyond those rhetorical devices, the materiality of the beads will be questioned as the physical embodiment of oral utterances made by both human and divine interlocutors. This will provide an analytical framework to understand

1 “Huron” has been the term used by the French in Canada and France to designate the Indigenous nation which calls itself “Wendat”. 2 Two dates are related to this belt: 1676 and 1678. Vincent Sablon (1619–1693), who lived through the events discussed here, apparently misremembered the correct date, since the letter sent with the wampum belt was dated from 1678. Sablon noted in his Histoire de l’Auguste et Vénérable Eglise de Chartres, Chartres: Massot, 1697, p. 142, that the belt was made in 1676; this was repeated in Lucien Merlet, Histoire des Relations des Hurons et des Abnaquis du Canada avec Notre Dame de Chartres Suivie de Documents Inédits sur la Sainte Chemise, Chartres: Pétrot-Garnier, 1858, p. X. 3 Archives Départementales d’Eure-et-Loir, G340, book M., p. 14. 4 Anonymous, De la Dévotion des Sauvages de Canada envers la Sainte Vierge Honorée en l’Eglise de Chartres, Chartres: E. Massot, 1700. See later editions: Jules Doublet de Boisthibault, Les Voeux des Hurons et des Abnaquis à Notre-Dame de Chartres Publiés pour la Première Fois d’après les Manuscrits des Archives d’Eure-et-Loir, Chartres: Noury-Coquard, 1857; and Merlet 1858 (as in fn. 2).

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 Lise Puyo

Fig. 1: The Wendat Belt at Chartres, in situ. Leather, plant fiber, shell (Venus Mercenaria for the purple beads, and Busycon whelk for the white beads), glass, porcupine quill, and linen. 6.5 to 7cm × 143 cm. The red backing is not part of the original object.

how the belt aims to weave an alliance between religious communities anchored in significant places, illustrating the Wendat converts’ savvy navigation of Catholic symbolism to secure powerful protectors.

Wampum diplomacy: materializing speech The term “wampum” designates purple and white tubular shell beads made respectively from quahog and whelk shells harvested along on the Atlantic coast of northeastern North America,5 mostly produced by Indigenous Nations on the shore, and traded inland with other groups, both Indigenous and European.6 Beads are threaded to make wampum branches or strings, or woven together with plant fibers and/or leather strands to make wampum collars and belts.7 Alternating purple and white beads are used to create abstract or figurative patterns, according to symbolic conven-

5 The scholarship on wampum is quite vast and we lack the space to reproduce it all here, but important studies on the topic include: William M. Beauchamp, Wampum and Shell Articles Used by the New York Indians, in: Bulletin of the New York State Museum 41:8 (1901), pp. 327–480; William N. Fenton, The Great Law and the Longhouse: a Political History of the Iroquois Confederacy, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998; Jonathan Lainey, La Monnaie des Sauvages. Les Colliers de Wampum d’Hier à Aujourd’hui, Sillery: Septentrion, 2004; and Frank G. Speck, The Functions of Wampum among the Eastern Algonkian, in: Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association 6 (1919), pp. 3–71. 6 The shape and size of wampum beads, as well as its recurrent description as the most valuable thing for Indigenous peoples, made it an ideal candidate to serve as currency in colonial settings. See, for example, Lynn Ceci, The First Fiscal Crisis in New York, in: Economic Development and Cultural Change 24:4 (1980), pp. 839–847. 7 See William C. Orchard, Beads and Beadwork of the American Indians, New York: Museum of the American Indian Heye Foundation, 1929, p.  107, for a technical description of beads making and weaving processes.





The Huron-Wendat Wampum Belt at Chartres 

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tions, to express different concepts, events, groups, or characters.8 Wampum belts are used in diplomacy with other Indigenous nations and settlers to materialize orally contracted alliances and agreements, which are expressed in kinship metaphors.9 Political relationships and responsibilities are designated by reference to equivalent roles that individuals would play in an extended family structure. Despite European attempts to undermine these traditions throughout the colonization of North America, Indigenous nations in the Northeast are still practicing wampum ceremonialism and diplomacy today.10 When woven into belts, wampum circulates through gift exchange in specific ceremonies that involve all of the participants’ senses.11 The receiving party is expected to reciprocate the gift in order to formally reach an agreement. In a diplomatic setting, wampum exchange is also associated with oral discourse, which is fixated and materialized through wampum: spoken words and material beads are linked to one another and sometimes linguistically conflated. In French documents, collier and parole (collar/belt and spoken words) were often used interchangeably.12 Wampum belts do not necessarily all serve diplomatic, cross-cultural functions. Previous efforts to draft typologies of wampum have created categories based on purpose and design elements. Notably, Marshall Becker’s typology differentiates “Secular-Political” belts from “Ecclesiastical-Convert” belts,13 creating a supposed opposition between an Indigenous traditional use of wampum and an Indigenous Christian convert use that is no longer “traditional.” However, I argue that this opposition is illusory; Indigenous wampum belts woven in a Christian context and sent to religious sanctuaries in Europe retain traditional political and diplomatic functions. The category of ecclesiastical wampum includes the 1678 Chartres belt among a series of belts woven by Wendat Christians living in Jesuit missions along the Saint

8 For an overview of wampum semiotics, see Alan Ojiig Corbiere, Diplomatic Metaphors and Symbolism on Wampum Belts, in: A. Ojiig Corbiere, M.A. Naokwegijij Cobriere, D. McGregor, and C.  Migwans (eds.), Anishinaabewin Niiwin: Four Rising Winds, M’Chigeeng: Ojibwe Cultural Foundation, 2014, pp. 47–64. Colors also play an important semiotic role. See, for example, George Hamell, The Iroquois and the World’s Rim. Speculations on Color, Culture, and Contact, in: American Indian Quaterly 16:4 (1992), pp. 451–469. 9 Lainey 2004 (as fn. 5), p. 58. 10 For a study of the processes of wampum removal and recovery, as well as the continuation of wampum ceremonialism in Haudenosaunee communities, see Margaret M. Bruchac, Broken Chains of Custody, in: Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 162:1 (2018), pp. 56–105. 11 See Muriel Clair, Entre Vision et Audition: la Lumière dans les Missions Iroquoises du 17e Siècle, in: Anthropologie et Sociétés 30:3 (2006), pp. 71–91. 12 “Un Collier, c’est un Porte-Parole,” Claude Bacqueville de la Potherie, Histoire de l’Amerique Septentrionale, Paris: Editions du Rocher, 1997 [1722, 1753], p. 418. 13 Marshall J. Becker, The Vatican 1831 Wampum Belt: Cultural Origins of an Important American Indian Artifact and Its Meaning as the Last “Ecclesiastical Convert” Belt, in: Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of New Jersey 71 (2006), pp. 79–134, p. 90.



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Lawrence River.14 In 1654,15 the Wendat community started sending wampum belts to a variety of Catholic congregations and sanctuaries, including the Jesuits’ Professed House in Paris (1654), Notre-Dame de Foy in Dinant, present-day Belgium (ca. 1670),16 and the Holy House of Loreto in Italy (1673). When these belts were described as ex-votos17 (offerings made to a deity to fulfill a vow or offer thanks), this category erased the cultural specificity of Indigenous wampum diplomacy, blending the belts into routine Catholic devotional practices. Recent scholarship by Ittai Weinryb on votive offerings has reexamined these practices by considering the ways in which votive objects are “material agent[s],” “made to signify through matter the hopes, dreams, desires, and anxieties of a devotee.”18 According to medieval ecclesiastical scholarship, votive offerings are: “dedicated (from dedicare) and ‘given with speaking’ (dare, ‘to give’; dicere ‘to speak’),”19 which overlaps with the rituals of wampum diplomacy, where a belt is a materialization of a verbal proposition or request. This chapter argues that wampum belts in votive situations did not lose their diplomatic and political purposes; they continued to function as agents among and between different communities. This builds on to the works of André Sanfaçon and Muriel Clair, who brought attention to these objects as trans-cultural devices. These wampum belts spoke with at least two voices: they signaled the success of the Jesuits’ evangelization strategies to European patrons, while adapting Wendat ontologies within which Catholic ideas were incorporated.20 This hybridity might have motivated the suggestion of placing these belts outside of “traditional” use in wampum schol-

14 For a recent study on these missions in this time period, see Jean-François Lozier, Flesh Reborn. The Saint Lawrence Valley Mission Settlements through the Seventeenth Century, Montreal: McGillQueen University Press, 2018. 15 Reuben G. Thwaites (ed.) The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents. Travels and Explorations of the Jesuit missionaries in New France 1610–1791, Cleveland: Burrows, 1896, vol. 41, pp. 167–175. See also Lionel Saint-George Lindsay, Notre-Dame de la Jeune-Lorette en la Nouvelle-France. Etude Historique, Montreal: Compagnie de Publication de la Revue Canadienne, 1900, p. 156. 16 See Muriel Clair, Notre-Dame de Foy en Nouvelle-France (1669–1675). Histoire des Statuettes de Foy et des Wampums Hurons Chrétiens, in: Annales de la Société Archéologique de Namur 83 (2009), pp. 167–192. 17 René Gobillot, Les Trois Ex-Voto Canadiens de Chartres, in: Revue d’Histoire de l’Amérique Française 11:1 (1957), pp. 42–46. 18 Ittai Weinryb, Votives and Material Religion, in: Material Religion 13:1 (2017), pp. 102–103, p. 102. 19 Ittai Weinryb, Of Votive Things, in: Ittai Weinryb (ed.), Agents of Faith. Votive Agents in Time and Place, New York: Bard Graduate Center, 2018, pp. xi–xviii, p. xii. 20 André Sanfaçon, Objets Porteurs d’Identité dans les Consécrations Améridiennes à Notre-Dame de Chartres, 1678–1749, in: Laurier Turgeon, Denys Delâge, and Réal Ouellet (eds.), Cultural Transfer, America and Europe. 500 Years of Interculturation, Ste-Foy: Laval University Press, 1996, pp. 449–466. Muriel Clair, Une Chapelle en Guise de Maison. Notre-Dame de Lorette en Nouvelle-France, devotion et iconographie, in: Le Cahier de Recherches Historiques 41 (2008), pp. 1–38. See also Karin Vélez, “A sign that we are related to you.” The Transatlantic Gifts of the Hurons of the Jesuit Mission of Lorette, 1650–1750, in: French Colonial History 12 (2011), pp. 31–44.





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arship. The 1678 belt at Chartres thus offers an important case study showcasing the conceptual and material innovations brought to wampum exchange. The belt fulfilled a traditional role with a new set of potential allies: the Virgin of Chartres and her servants, the canons of the cathedral.

A request tailored to its audience The Wendat message sent to Chartres had several recipients: the belt was addressed to the Virgin Mary, in the specific avatar that is worshipped at Chartres (Virgini Parituræ). The letter written in the Wendat language and its translation into French were also addressed to Mary, but mentioned the canons of Chartres, and communicated with them as secondary interlocutors. This message was mediated through several objects. The belt itself depicts text by alternating white and purple beads; as a wampum belt, its existence materialized words that were pronounced during a speech. The oral speech was accessible in writing and in translation, through the correspondence associated with the belt. Forming alliances with Catholic communities in Europe yielded both spiritual and material outcomes, as they placed Wendat Christians within a network of powerful patrons overseas.21 Father Pierre-Joseph-Marie Chaumonot, Jesuit missionary among the Wendat since the 1640s, mentioned these wampum belts sent overseas in his autobiography.22 He documented some of the presents that Catholic sanctuaries sent to Wendat converts in return; there were typically ritual objects that increased the prestige of the sanctuaries newly founded in the Saint Lawrence River valley. The alliance with Chartres built onto this overall strategy to establish relationships with significant religious partners. In the 1670s, the Chartres cathedral was indeed a powerful and prestigious sanctuary. It was an important pilgrimage destination, due to housing the relic of the Virgin’s Holy Chemise, gifted to the chapter by Charles the Bald in 876.23 In the seventeenth century, this relic was described as the garment that Mary was wearing when she received the Annunciation and when she gave birth to Christ, and that she kept until she died.24 A Wendat congregation dedicated to the Virgin Mary existed at the

21 Clair 2009 (as fn. 16) p. 173. 22 Pierre-Joseph-Marie Chaumonot, Un Missionnaire des Hurons. Autobiographie du Père Chaumonot de la Compagnie de Jésus, et son Complément par le Père R.F. Martin, Paris: H. Oudin, 1885. 23 Claudine Lautier, Les Vitraux de la Cathédrale de Chartres: Reliques et Images, in: Bulletin Monumental 161:1 (2003), pp. 3–96, p. 23. 24 Lautier 2003 (as fn. 23) p. 14. The term “chemise” here describes the shift or undergarment worn against the skin, see E. Jane Burns, Saracen Silk and the Virgin’s “Chemise.” Cultural Crossing in Cloth, in: Speculum 81:2 (2006), pp. 365–397.



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Jesuit mission since at least 1654.25 Therefore preferred sites for potential alliances logically included these significant centers of devotion to the Virgin. The Latin inscription depicted on the 1678 wampum belt, Virgini Parituræ Votum Huronum, could be translated as: “Vow (or offering) from the Hurons to the Virgin who will give birth.” Virgini Pariturae (“to the Virgin who will give birth”) is an important inscription at Chartres cathedral. According to a tradition that was vibrant in the seventeenth century, the cathedral was constructed at the location of a Celtic ceremonial site, where druids were worshipping a “virgin mother” long before Christianity even reached this location.26 The prefiguration of the Virgin at Chartres translated into iconography: the Virgini Parituræ image was usually represented as a Sedes Sapientæ statue in a cavelike setting, situated above an altar that echoed the one used in Christian rituals. The acts of looking for prophecies or resemblances to enhance the significance of a Christian site and appropriating powerful locations for new religious practices have long been a common evangelization strategy.27 Jesuits missionaries in seventeenth-century Canada used similar tactics to legitimize Christianity to their interlocutors: they looked for mythological proximities between Indigenous and Catholic more-than-human beings, as a means of appropriating and subverting pre-existing powerful myths, stories, and practices to convert Indigenous peoples.28 From the missionaries’ point of view, the local history at Chartres could provide a significant example of a successful conversion; for the Wendat community, the symbolic stature of Chartres in the European Catholic network made its cathedral chapter a desirable group to seek an alliance with. The Wendat orators referenced this local tradition in the beginning of their letter addressed to Mary, by referring to the inhabitants of Chartres as the Virgin’s first servants: que nous avons de joye, de ce que meme avant vôtre naissance, la Ville de Chartres vous a bâty une Eglise, avec cette Inscription à la Vierge qui doit enfanter; O que Messieurs les Chartrains sont heureux, & qu’ils méritent de gloire d’être vos premiers serviteurs !29

25 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 41, p. 147; Clair 2008 (as fn. 16) p. 169. 26 Sébastien Rouillard du Melvin, Parthénie ou Histoire de la Très-Auguste et Très-Dévote Eglise de Chartres Dédiée par les Vieux Druides, en l’Honneur de la Vierge qui Enfanteroit, Paris: Robin Thierry et Pierre Chevalier, 1609. 27 Johannes Hahn, Stephen Emmel, and Ulrich Gotter (eds.), From Temple to Church. Destruction and Renewal of Local Cultic Topography in Late Antiquity, Leiden: Brill, 2008. 28 Dominique Deslandres, Croire et Faire Croire. Les Missions Françaises au XVIIe siècle (1600–1650), Paris: Fayard, 2003, pp. 307–308. See also: Micah True, Retelling Genesis. The Jesuit Relations and the Wendat Creation Myth, in: Papers on French Seventeenth Century Literature 34:67 (2007), pp. 465–484; Kathleen J. Martin, Afe Adogame, Graham Harvey, and Ines Talamantez (eds.), Indigenous Symbols and Practices in the Catholic Church: Visual Culture, Missionization and Appropriation, Farnham: Ashgate Publications, 2010. 29 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn. 4) p. 1–2. “How joyful we are, that even before you were born, the City of Chartres built you a church with this Inscription to the Virgin who shall give birth; How happy the





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Fig. 2: Detail of word Virgini showing the unusual round glass beads used alongside the tubular shell beads traditionally employed in wampum weaving.

Identifying the worshippers at Chartres as the Virgin’s oldest followers perhaps aligned with the kinship principles of wampum diplomacy, placing them in a superior position compared to other Catholics. Martin Bouvart, the Jesuit missionary who transcribed the speech in Wendat and translated it into French, was himself from Chartres, and as such, he was likely very familiar with this local history. Chaumonot and Bouvart both seemed to claim ownership of the idea of weaving and sending the belt to Chartres.30 They certainly held the necessary relations and networks to connect the two communities. Yet, because the written documents were mediated by the Jesuits who transcribed and translated Indigenous speech, they might misrepresent the complexities of Indigenous strategies in this process. Following the Council of Trent, the Jesuits had to be careful in the way they represented the Wendat’s relationship with images and devotional

Gentlemen at Chartres are, and how much glory they deserve to be your first servants!” Translated by Lise Puyo. 30 Chaumonot 1885 (as fn. 22) p. 206.



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objects to prove that they had renounced their “superstitious” ways.31 They would be expected to obscure the efficacy of wampum, for fear of conveying the impression that Wendat converts were idolatrous. Here, we must examine the Wendat makers’ agency in this process, by looking especially at the weaving techniques and the use of specific materials, over which the Jesuit missionaries had little to no control. Since wampum belts were woven by Indigenous women who selected the material and carefully assembled it, the materiality of this object is more likely to provide evidence of the Wendat’s active participation in the diplomatic process with Chartres.

Strategic material decisions The Wendat belt at Chartres is woven together with thin leather warp and twined plant fiber weft. Each edge is embellished with red and white porcupine quill, added to the belt after weaving. The technique used to weave the beads together is very consistent with early wampum collections dated from the seventeenth and eighteenth century, with two strands of fiber weft crossing inside each bead and separating to grasp the leather warp strands. The short thick shell beads are very similar in size and thickness to other seventeenth-century wampum beads, including those found in an Abenaki wampum belt sent to Chartres in 1699.32 This belt’s specificity lies in the use of about 193 round black and white glass beads (fig. 2), rather than tubular glass beads, which more closely resemble the shape of shell wampum beads. The published scholarly tradition on wampum tends to undermine the significance of glass beads in wampum diplomacy. Jonathan Lainey, interpreting archival sources documenting Haudenosaunee negotiations with the French administration, notes instances when belts made of glass beads were refused during diplomatic encounters, because the material did not bear the same significance as shell wampum.33 The ethnocentric disregard for glass beads, seeing them as a cheap commodity exported by Europeans for the fur trade, perhaps also played a role in the idea that glass beads decreased the level of authenticity of a wampum belt and were undesirable in wampum weaving. The presence of these round glass beads in the Chartres belt has been interpreted by some scholars as “replacement for indigenous

31 Martial Chanut, Le Saint-Concile de Trente œcuménique et générale célébré sous Paul III, Jules III et Pie IV, souverains pontifes, Nouvellement traduit par M. l’abbé Chanut, Paris: S. Mabre-Cramoisy, 1674, pp. 384–385. 32 The Introspect archaeological project, headed by Geneviève Treyvaud with the Université Laval in Quebec and Université de Rennes in France, did CT scans of both of these belts in 2017. At the time of writing, these results are not yet available, but they will provide interesting insights by comparing these beads with other archaeological collections. 33 Lainey 2004 (as fn. 5) p. 22.





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beads,”34 suggesting that the belt had been repaired. Yet, my close examinations of the visible weft and warp in the belt at Chartres indicate that these round glass beads were part of the original weave. Curators and historians suggested a second explanation as the easiest way to account for the presence of these unusual beads: perhaps Wendat makers simply lacked shell wampum beads. I propose that these beads were used deliberately, regardless of a putative shortage of shell beads. The Jesuit Relations do mention food shortages, but there are no references to any wampum shortages in the years before 1678. There are, instead, references to the large-scale communal collecting of wampum beads. In 1675, Father Francis Vaillant recorded an anecdote from 1674, when Paule Gaiaenhinnon, a Wendat woman at the then newly consecrated chapel of Lorette, suggested implementing collecting wampum beads after mass,35 a tradition that Wendat Christians were already following in previous mission settlements and that was regularly attested in the Jesuit Relations.36 Paule Gaiaenhinnon donated four hundred wampum beads, followed by other members of her community. The church collected more than four thousand beads on a single day, which Father Vaillant highlighted by writing: “tous ces présents sont d’autant plus considérables cette année, qu’ils ont été dans une si grande disette de vivres, qu’ils ont été obligés de vendre presque tout ce qu’ils avaient pour subsister.”37 This anecdote describes the implementation of a ritual practice at Lorette to create collective resources of wampum beads to weave into belts. This practice inspired the Jesuits’ admiration, as it reflected not only moments of affluence, but continued even in times of extreme poverty. This collective management of wampum resources is reflected in the materiality of the belt itself: the length and width of each bead vary throughout the belt, likely signaling that they came from different batches, were made at different times and were owned by different people. As such, the belt would embody and represent the community as an agent carrying multiple voices, through these individual variations and irregularities in the beads. When glass beads were used, tubular glass beads were usually preferred, because they mimicked the shape and shine of shell wampum, and as such did not disrupt weaving patterns. There is material evidence that tubular glass replacement beads would have been readily available in 1678, not only in the region of Lorette but also in the chapel itself. In 1674, the Ursulines in Quebec City made and donated an altarpiece for the consecration of the new chapel. This embroidered piece of textile has

34 Claude Stéfani, Ceinture des Hurons et des Abénaquis, in: Trésors de la Cathedrale de Chartres, Chartres: Musée des Beaux Arts, 2002, p. 91. 35 Missions du Canada: Relation Inédites de la Nouvelle-France, 1672–1679, pour faire suite aux anciennes Relations, 1615–1672, Paris: C. Douniol, 1861, T. 2. pp. 79–80. Also spelled Paule Gaiachinon in Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 60, p. 41. 36 See fn. 43, 44, and 45. 37 Relations Inédites 1861 (as fn. 35), p. 81. “All of these gifts are even more significant that they were facing such food scarcity that they had to sell almost everything they had to survive.”



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remained with the Wendat community in their church at Wendake, QC. The altarpiece included a mix of floral wool embroidery with a background entirely beaded with white tubular glass beads. Although the use of such beads is attested in the seventeenth century as a common technique to mimic silver and gold,38 this choice seems also tailored to please the Wendat’s tradition and interests, by evoking wampum beads. Tubular glass beads were thus available at Lorette as early as 1674 on the altarpiece, and in Québec City at the Ursulines monastery, where these loose beads are still in collections today.39 This evidence suggests that the round glass beads were intentionally selected among available resources, because they were deemed preferable to these tubular glass beads. The round glass beads should not be dismissed as mere replacements, and the choice to include them should be taken seriously. In the Chartres belt, glass beads were only placed in letter shapes (fig. 2), constructed by alternating white and black beads. In these motifs, glass beads were used in circular, semi-circular, and diagonal shapes, which were harder to convey with tubular units. Even if unexpected circumstances somehow influenced these choices of glass beads, one can easily notice that the weavers took advantage of this constraint by using the features of the material to make thinner and curvier shapes than tubular beads would allow. We also need to question the potential symbolic implication of this choice. While examining my photographs of this belt, Margaret Bruchac noted that the round glass beads bear a resemblance to rosary beads in their shape, size, color, and shine. I then explored the hypothesis of an Indigenous inclusion of rosary beads into a wampum belt, as a means to materially convey diplomatic demands to the Virgin Mary and the chapter at Chartres. But first, we must address a methodological question: is it possible to verify whether these beads were ever mounted as rosaries before being included into the belt? From having examined many collections of early modern rosaries in the Saint Lawrence River valley, there seems to have been a large variety of materials used to make rosary beads. Mother-of-pearl, rose paste, wood, amber, glass, and even shell wampum beads40 have all been encountered in these collections. Composed of all shapes and sizes, these rosaries were only signaled as such by their bead count, and in most cases, the separation of beads mounted on metal pieces rather than cord or thread.41 In these very diverse collections, however, one type of rosary showed more consistency: those worn by missionaries, nuns, and ecclesiastical personnel on their robes were remarkably similar. Usually larger than the varieties mentioned earlier,

38 Charles-Germain de Saint-Aubin, l’Art du Brodeur, Paris: L.-F. Delatour, 1770, p. 23. Louis de Farcy, la Broderie du XIe Siècle à nos Jours d’après des Spécimens Authentiques et les Anciens Inventaires, Angers: Belhomme, 1890, pp. 37–38. 39 Musée des Ursulines, Québec City, inv. 1995.4300. 40 In the Huron-Wendat Museum collections, Wendake, QC. 41 These two features identify one of the shell bead objects at the Huron-Wendat Museum in Wendake, Quebec, as a wampum rosary rather than a wampum string.





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these “professional” rosaries were either made of wood or bone, had consistently spherical beads, and had a specific shine due to the dye and varnish on the wood, or to the polish on the bone. The round, opaque, and shiny glass beads in the Chartres belt remarkably resembled this aspect. If more research is needed to find similar beads mounted as rosaries, this physical resemblance nevertheless links the two objects, down to the colors used: white (like the bone rosaries) and black (like the wood rosaries), instead of the dark blue glass beads that came closer to the color of purple wampum and that were sometimes used in wampum weaving. Rather than speaking of “replacement” wampum to describe the glass beads in the Chartres belt, we suggest calling these beads “potential” rosary beads. Similarly to wampum, rosary beads materialize words. The rosary is primarily an instrument to count prayers. Its usual form, set in the fifteenth century, includes at least two types of beads carrying different sets of words: larger beads represent the Pater Noster, and between each large bead, groups of ten smaller beads represent the Ave Maria.42 Including smaller rosary beads into a belt dedicated to Mary would reinforce the relationship between the object and its recipient, since rosary beads held prayers to her. As early as 1653, the Jesuit Relations described how Indigenous women in the Wendat mission donated as many wampum beads as the number of times they said the rosary that week, “dequoy faire une Couronne, & une Echarpe, à la façon du pays, à l’image de la sainte Vierge.”43 With this communal beads fund, Wendat women then wove wampum belts dedicated to the Virgin: ces bons Congregationistes, ont pris une sainte pratique tous les Dimanches, de faire un petit present à la Vierge, chacun d’autant de grains de Porcelene [wampum], qu’ils ont dit sur la semaine de chapelets, le nombre va quelque fois jusqu’à sept & huit cens de ces grains, qui sont les perles du pais, leur devotion les à porté à en faire quelques colliers, en espece de broderie, où meslant les grains de porcelene violette, avec les blancs, ils escrivent ce qu’ils desirent dire en l’honneur de la Vierge.44

42 Philippe Malgouyres, Au Fil des Perles, la Prière Comptée. Chapelets et Couronnes de Prières dans l’Occident Chrétien, Paris: Somogy, 2017, p. 21. 43 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 40, p. 234, “for making a Crown, or Scarf, after the fashion of the country, for the image of the blessed Virgin.” 44 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 41, p. 164. “these good members of the Congregation have adopted a pious practice of making a little present every Sunday to the Virgin, each one giving a Porcelain bead for each rosary recited during the week. The number of these beads,—which are the pearls of the country,—runs sometimes as high as seven or eight hundred; and their devotion has prompted them to make collars of these in the style of embroidery,—in which, interweaving beads of violet and white porcelain, they write what they wish to say in honor of the Virgin.”



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This passage describes a tight connection between wampum beads, which materialized words, and rosary beads, which materialized prayers to Mary. This connection is confirmed by the wampum rosary in the collections of the Huron-Wendat Museum at Wendake, but also by the way the Jesuit missionaries described the objects made from assembling these beads.45 The French term “couronne” (crown) was then interchangeably used with “chapelet” (rosary), and traditionally designated the tool to count prayers, with beads strung on one thread.46 The distinction with other objects that were woven with several rows of beads (“Echarpe”) overlapped with the distinction in wampum diplomacy between wampum strings and wampum belts; they seemed to serve the same purpose of materializing words. The Virgin Mary is believed to have become pregnant with the verb incarnate, in the same way that God created the world. When the Archangel Gabriel said: “Hail Mary, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women,” his words created Jesus inside Mary’s womb, and his conversation with Mary corresponds to the mystery of the Incarnation—the term that designates Mary’s miraculous pregnancy. These words are the first three verses of the Ave Maria prayer, as it is materialized in the smaller rosary beads.47 The words commemorated by and held in rosary beads were necessary for the “Virgin who Shall Give Birth” (Virgini Parituræ) to exist, since these words made Mary pregnant. In the Chartres wampum belt, the glass beads referencing the words of the Annunciation materially compose the words Virgini Parituræ, since they were only used in letter shapes. Those glass beads were strategically placed only in the words regarding Catholic doctrine, whereas the word “Huronum”, representing the Wendat, is entirely made of shell beads, perhaps signaling their Indigenous identity in their material selection. According to the letter they sent with the belt, the Wendat of Lorette were asking Mary to give birth to them the same way she gave birth to Christ: Cela n’empêchera pas, qu’à l’exemple des Chartrains, nous ne vous honorions meme à présent, sous le titre de la Vierge, qui doit enfanter. Puisqu’il ne tient qu’à vous, en demeurant toûjours Vierge, de nous avoir pour vos enfants.48

45 For a study of Wendat appropriation of rosaries, see Emmanuelle Friant, “Ils aiment bien leur Chapelet.” Le Discours Jésuite sur la Transmission du Religieux aux Hurons par l’Objet de Piété (1634– 1649), in: Etudes d’Histoire Religieuse 77 (2011), pp. 7–20. 46 Malgouyres 2017 (as fn. 42), p. 30. 47 See Malgouyres 2017 (as fn. 42), p. 23 for a history of the Ave Maria prayer and bibliographical notes. 48 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn.  4) p.  3. “It will not prevent us from honoring you, following the Chartrains’ example, under the title the Virgin who shall give birth. For it is only up to you, while still remaining a Virgin, to have us for children.” Translated by Lise Puyo.





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With these words, the Wendat converts, following the conventions of wampum diplomacy through kinship metaphors, were asking the Virgin to adopt them and welcome them as the youngest children of the Holy Family. This request expanded their alliances by creating a set of obligations from the chapter at Chartres on behalf of the Christian Wendat. Sharing a mother entailed that the Wendat at Lorette would become the brothers of the worshippers at Chartres, which suggested a balanced and equal relationship based on reciprocity.49 In their speech to the Virgin at Chartres, the Wendat further said: Comme nous vous honorons icy dans une Chappelle semblable à la maison, où vous avez donné à Dieu une vie humaine, nous esperons que vous nous y donnerez une vie spirituelle. Ce sera ainsi, qu’étant toûjours Vierge, vous serez aussi Mere, non seulement, qui a enfanté ou qui enfante; mais qui enfantera toujours, jusqu’à ce que Jesus soit parfaitement formé en noustous.50

This second passage echoes the first one, but seems to slightly transform who was given birth to in this uptake of the Virgini Parituræ. This particular passage echoed a very similar line written by the Chartrain missionary Martin Bouvart in his 1675 account of the foundation of Lorette: Dieu veuille que Marie, ayant donné dans son sein, une vie humaine à Jésus dans l’ancienne Lorette, elle lui donne dans la nouvelle une naissance spirituelle dans les cœurs de tous les Français, et de tous les Sauvages de l’Amérique !51

Although this similarity between the Wendat letter and Bouvart’s account could perhaps strengthen an argument in favor of the Jesuits’ authority over the Wendats’ diplomatic enterprise, it still underlines how two discourses were interwoven in the Wendat letter and in the wampum belt. In these passages, Mary was asked to be a mother to the Wendat, and to give birth to Christ within each one of the Wendat converts. Both of these demands referenced the mystery of the Incarnation, by pointing out that the Virgin would be a mother once again. The use of rosary beads, charged with the words that caused the Incarnation, reinforced the compelling power of the wampum belt and echoed this discourse in a material form.

49 See Lozier 2018 (as fn. 14), p. 129, for a discussion of similar Wendat strategies with other Catholic sanctuaries. 50 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn. 4), pp. 3–4. “As we worship you here in a Chapel like the house, where you gave God a human life, we hope that here you will give us a spiritual life. It will be so, that while still being a Virgin, you will be a Mother, not only who has given birth or is giving birth; but will always give birth, until Jesus is perfectly formed in us all.” Translated by Lise Puyo. 51 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 60, p. 72. “God grant that Mary, having given in her womb a human life to Jesus in the former Loretto, may in the new one give him a spiritual birth in the hearts of all the French and all the Savages of America!”



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The 1678 letter underlined the continuity between this request and the space in which it was formed and performed. The Wendat village of Lorette in Québec was an avatar of Loreto, the city in Italy where the relic of the Holy House was miraculously transported from Nazareth by two angels in 1291.52 The Holy House was believed to be the space where Mary was born and later received the Annunciation, also the location where the Incarnation took place.53 The Loreto sanctuary attracted many pilgrims, including Father Chaumonot: it was at Loreto that the future missionary among the Wendat experienced his own conversion and met his vocation.54 His project of recreating this shrine for his own congregation was the first reason for building the chapel that Martin Bouvart noted in his account of the construction of Lorette in Canada.55 The architect followed the plan of the house relic itself, down to the measurements, the number of windows, and the placement of the bell tower, where the angel supposedly came in to give the Annunciation. The church displayed prestigious gifts from allied religious communities, often linked to wampum diplomacy. In 1674, the Holy House sent a reproduction of the miraculous Marian statuette from Loreto, which touched the original, after receiving the 1673 wampum belt. Several statuettes made of the holy wood of Notre-Dame de Foy in Dinant, one holding a fragment of a Veil of the Virgin and another a fragment of the belt of Saint Joseph,56 were also tied to a wampum exchange with Notre-Dame de Foy in the early 1670s. Wendat longhouses were organized all around the chapel of Lorette in a grid-like pattern, contrasting with village patterns at previous settlements.57 In 1674, when the construction of the church started, Louis Taondechorend, a Wendat dogique—a delegate of the Jesuit authority among the converts, often in charge of policing religious behavior58—described how the Wendat longhouses around the chapel looked like the great temple that enclosed the sacred house of Loreto:

52 Alexander Nagel and Christopher S. Wood, Anachronic Renaissance, New York: Zone Books, 2010, p. 208. 53 Only a few bricks from the Holy Land were placed under the “house” that is supposed to be their reliquary. By the time the legend of the miraculous translation came to be, the whole structure was thought to be the relic, encased in a marble sheath in the sixteenth century. See Nagel and Wood 2010 (as fn. 52) p. 198. 54 Clair 2009 (as fn. 16), p. 3. 55 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 60, p. 68. For a comparison with the original Holy House, see Karin Vélez, The Miraculous Flying House of Loreto. Spreading Catholicism in the Early Modern World, Princeton University Press, 2018, pp. 148–151. 56 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn. 15), vol. 60, p. 86. One statuette was sent by a Jesuit in Nancy in 1669, which prompted the Wendat to send a wampum belt to Notre-Dame de Foy, received in 1672. The two reliquary statues were sent between 1670 and 1674 by the Dukes of Lorraine and the inhabitants of Bar-le-Duc. 57 Lozier 2018 (as fn. 14), p. 182. 58 Anthony G. Roeber, Ethnographies and Exchanges: Native Americans, Moravians, and Catholicsm in Early North America, University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008, p. 104.





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ayant rapporté ce qu’il avait entendu de la Lorette d’Italie il ajouta qu’il semblait que toutes les cabanes qu’il voyait disposées autour de la chapelle, lui représentaient le grand temple, qui renferme la maison de Lorette ; qu’ainsi ils devaient tous considerer leur bourg comme une grande Eglise, dont chaque cabane faisait autant de différentes parties.59

This reported speech could illustrate the ways in which at least some of the Wendat converts translated their own knowledge of Catholic pilgrimage sites and sanctuaries into cross-cultural concepts that potentially pleased the Jesuits while creating a space for Indigenous sovereignty. When Taondechorend described the village as a church, it aligned with the missionaries’ goal to found a reduction, a mission site entirely ruled by religious discipline.60 Yet, within this frame, it also created the possibility for the converts to assert themselves as a religious congregation on par with similar communities in Europe. Their status would be strengthened by entering networks of diplomatic and material support from highly powerful sanctuaries such as Loreto and Chartres. By forming alliances that followed kinship metaphors, Wendat converts exercised their ability to pursue Indigenous diplomacy, albeit within a missionary framework, with ecclesiastical personnel who would have been “older” fathers and brothers, in symbolic terms, than the missionaries present in Canada. The Christian community at Lorette thus used wampum as a material and rhetorical device to enter this metaphorical family, and to be heard by Catholic deities and the personnel who served them. In summary, the Chartres wampum belt explicitly asked Mary to be “the Virgin who Will Give Birth” again by becoming the Wendat’s mother, and to give birth to Christ in them. The letters that trace the Latin text into the belt include both shell wampum beads as an Indigenous medium carrying the Wendat’s request, and glass beads embodying God’s words that made Mary pregnant, words she would recognize. This performative speech act was taking place at the Canadian version of the house where she first heard those words, where the Incarnation happened.

Relics in translation: Chartres’ response Was the chapter of Chartres able to grasp this complexity, despite their likely ignorance of the subtle details of Indigenous wampum diplomacy? Following a similar protocol to the Wendat diplomats, the chapter issued both a letter and an object in

59 Jesuit Relations 1896 (as fn.  15), vol.  60, p.  78. “having related what he had heard of Loretto in Italy,—he added that all the cabins which he saw arranged about the chapel represented to him, as it were, the grand temple which encloses the sacred house of Lorette; that thus they should all regard their village as a great Church, of which all their cabins formed as many different parts.” 60 Clair 2008 (as fn. 20), p. 13.



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response to their proposition. The chapter also chose an Incarnation program on the object it sent in return: a reliquary in the shape of the Holy Chemise. The front of the reliquary depicted the Annunciation, representing why the Holy Chemise was so significant. On the back, a Virgini Parituræ statue in her cave-like setting illustrated the status of Chartres as a pre-Christian sanctuary.61 The Holy Chemise echoed the motif of the Holy House, in that they both were empty containers of the Virgin’s body, and spaces where the Incarnation took place. With their present, Chartres allowed the Wendat at Lorette to nest reliquaries within each other: a rendition of the chemise in which Mary miraculously carried Jesus’ body, inside the image of the house of the Incarnation. This gift was also a tertiary relic, as it had been placed in contact with the reliquary of the Holy Chemise for nine days, which corresponds to the number of days between the Ascension of Christ and the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles during Pentecost, (a powerful unit of time).62 The silver representation of the Holy Chemise was contaminated with its miraculous power, similarly to other objects in the Lorette chapel that had been in contact with the original. Inside the reliquary, small labels identified eleven remains of men and women in similar proportions, ranging from important historical figures of the Church like Saint Paul or Saint Ambrose, to the more contemporaneous Saint Jeanne-Marie Bonomi.63 It seems likely that the chapter sent a sample of several relics to represent the power and particularity of its sanctuary, a practice that was common between religious communities in Europe.64 The canons elegantly negotiated the Wendat’s performance of modesty and humility, by elevating their status as newly converts to a place of spiritual privilege: n’ayant été envoyez dans la vigne du Pere de famille que vers l’onziéme heure du jour, vous ne laisserez pas d’obtenir la meme recompense que ceux qui en auront supporté tout le poids & toute l’ardeur en travaillant depuis le matin jusqu’au jour. Ne vous persuadez donc pas que nôtre pieté et nos oeuvres soient de plus grande consideration que les vôtres auprés de Dieu & de la Sainte Vierge […] Car nous avons grand sujet de craindre que si nous avons été assez heureux

61 However, the reliquary does not enclose a fragment of the Holy Chemise, since its reliquary at Chartres was not opened until 1712. See Lautier 2003 (as fn. 23), p. 17. 62 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn. 4), N.P. “We ask you also, Sir, to gracefully receive the present we send you, truly it does not seem very considerable, but we can assure you that it is very holy, since it holds the Relics of several saints, and represents the Holy Chemise that we are keeping religiously in our Church and that it laid for nine days on the reliquary that holds this valuable treasure.” Translated by Lise Puyo. 63 Born in 1606, she died in 1670 and was beatified in 1783, a century after a part of her remains was sent to Lorette. Jules Baudot, Dictionnaire d’Hagiographie Mis à Jour à l’Aide des Travaux Récents, Paris: Bloud et Gay, 1925, p. 371. 64 Charles Freeman, Holy Bones, Holy Dust. How Relics Shaped the History of Medieval Europe, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011, p. 28.





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pour recevoir ce grand don les premiers dans ce monde, nous n’en recevions la recompense que les derniers dans le Royaume des Cieux.65

As the Chartrains identified with the heritage of their mythical ancestors, they applied the principle from the Gospel (Matthew 19:30) that the first shall be last, and the last shall be first. Therefore, Wendat converts were placed in a position where their recent conversion gave them an advantage. This passage illustrates how this alliance truly involved a reciprocal set of responsibilities and underlines why forming those ties with the community at Lorette would be desirable from the chapter’s perspective: nous avons tant de confiance dans la grandeur de cette foy qui est encore toute nouvelle dans vos coeurs, & dans les ardeurs de la charité dont vous êtes embrasez que nous esperons par vos merites & par vos prieres obtenir le pardon de nos fautes & le renouvellement de nôtre vie.66

Thus, the chapter of Chartres seemed to confirm Louis Taondechorend’s description of the Indigenous Lorette as a sacred space on par with Loreto. The new faith of the Wendat converts balanced the precognizant Christian faith at Chartres. This balancing act highlights that the faith of these new converts was especially powerful to this old sanctuary, since the prayers and devotion of the Wendat would mean that the Chartrains had allies who would reach paradise first and could advocate for the Chartrains’ eternal life. On their letter to the Wendat, the canons seemed to have made a point in writing the name of both communities on the same line: Huronum Ecclesiæ Nascenti Antiqua Carnatum Ecclesia, echoing the symmetry between the new and the old they drafted in the text.67

65 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn.  4), N.P. “having been sent to the Lord’s vineyard only around the eleventh hour of the day, you will still receive the same reward as those who will have supported all its weight and all its zeal by working from dawn till day. Do not persuade yourself that our piety and our deeds are of greater value than yours to God and the Blessed Virgin. (…) For we greatly fear that, if we were fortunate enough to be the first ones in the world to receive this great gift, we will receive the reward last in the Kingdom of Heaven.” Translated by Lise Puyo. 66 De la Dévotion 1700 (as fn. 4), N.P. “we have so much trust in the greatness of this faith that is still brand new in your hearts, and in the zeal of the charity that ignites you that we hope we will obtain the forgiveness of our sins and renewal of our lives through your merits and your prayers.” Translated by Lise Puyo. 67 The original parchment is housed in collections of the Huron-Wendat Museum in Wendake, QC.



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Conclusion: Was the belt a successful diplomatic agent? At Lorette, the Chartres reliquary was appropriately elevated for All-Saints’ day, November 1st 1680, during a public ceremony: tout le monde estant assemblé dans la chapelle de la Vierge, le P. Potier, qui a soin avec moy de la mission, fit un discours aux François de l’estime que l’on devoit faire des reliques que nous avons receues de vous [the canons of Chartres], et de la chemise qui les renferme ; il dit le mesme en huron aux Sauvages, en adjoustant qu’ils vous avoient une troisième obligation de ce que vous les aviez comme adoptés, en leur donnant part à tous vos biens spirituels, comme à leurs vrays enfants.68

This cultural translation also used kinship metaphors, and suggests that the chapter accepted the Wendat’s proposition for an alliance, as they were now linked by a set of responsibilities. However, the exact understanding of these responsibilities might be questioned. The Wendat letter asked Mary, not the canons, to adopt them. Being adopted by Mary herself would have made the Wendat the canons’ siblings, suggesting an equal relationship, according to the conventions of wampum diplomacy. The chapter’s gracious letter, establishing a balance between the Wendat’s new faith and the Chartrains’ antique faith, actually came very close to this proposition. Did Potier’s translation to the Wendat, however, establish a hierarchy that was absent from the canons’ letter? Being adopted as children by the chapter suggests a relationship that entailed reciprocal responsibilities, but based on unequal grounds, with more authority to the parent figure. Potier’s addition further reduced Chartres’ obligation to only sharing “spiritual assets,” not to sharing material goods that parents would have to provide to children equally in these kinds of alliances. In sum, my assessment of the material and documentary sources demonstrates that the 1678 Wendat wampum belt was using Catholic symbols in a remarkably savvy, powerful, and deliberate way. As noted previously, some scholars have considered this particular wampum belt as evidence of Indigenous populations adopting foreign traditions, and therefore losing their own, an example of assimilation and acculturation. That conception undermines the strength and flexibility of Indigenous ideas of alliance, kinship and governance, especially when they were expressed through cross-cultural media. Instead, through this belt and the associated archives,

68 Letter from Chaumonot to the canons of Chartres cathedral in Merlet 1858 (as fn.  2), p.  12. “everybody having gathered in the chapel of the Virgin, Father Potier, who cares for the mission with me, made a speech to the French on the esteem one should have for these relics that we received from you, and of the chemise that holds them; he said the same in huron to the Savages, adding they had a third obligation to you, since you had somewhat adopted them, giving them part to all your spiritual assets, like to their real children.” Translated by Lise Puyo.





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the seventeenth-century Wendat of Lorette displayed their very astute knowledge of Catholic dogmas. They effectively used this knowledge to communicate their political and spiritual demands, by deliberately using the means at their disposal. The belt, as a material diplomatic agent supported by its written paraphernalia, seems to have successfully convinced the canons of the Chartres cathedral to enter into a powerful alliance with the Wendat converts of Lorette. In the wealth of documents about the Wendat-Jesuit relationship, objects created by Indigenous women, such as this 1678 wampum belt, supply information that sheds a new light on well-known texts. The close examination of this belt and the interrogation of the unusual choice of round glass beads/potential rosary beads allows us to revisit this history with a new appreciation for the complexities and depths of the Wendat’s maneuvering. This approach also better contextualizes and illuminates the European Catholic side of the exchange, highlighting once more the crucial position of the Jesuit missionaries as intermediaries, mediating the Wendat’s diplomatic endeavors as translators strategically selecting their words. This wampum belt, like so many other Indigenous objects, was designed to impact the consciousness of human actors through time, prompting them to remember, re-ignite, or re-evaluate these relationships.69

69 The legacy of the Wendat belt at Chartres and its impact throughout the centuries to the present exceed the boundaries of this paper, but are under discussion in my Ph.D. dissertation: Negotiating between Shell and Paper: Wampum Belts as Agents of Religious Diplomacy (University of Pennsylvania; Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales) (in progress at time of writing). My thanks and gratitude go to the reviewer for their thoughtful comments and suggestions, and to Margaret Bruchac for suggesting this line of enquiry in the first place, when I was pursuing my Master’s thesis. I would like to thank Jonathan Lainey, Teharihulen Michel Savard, Guy Sioui-Durand, and Manon Sioui for our conversations about these hypotheses and propositions. At Chartres, my thanks go to Irène Jourd’heuil, Fabienne Auderbrand, Line Spinnler, Cécile Figliuzzi, Father Emmanuel Blondeau, Gilles Fresson, and Alain Louet. Crucial stages of this research were funded by the Penn Museum, the American Philosophical Society Phillips Fund for Native American Research, and by the Social Sciences Research Council International Dissertation Research Fellowship.



Mar García Arenas

Refulgit Sol et Concordia Political and Diplomatic Implications of the Reconciliation between Rome and Lisbon through the Art Medals (1770) The consideration of artistic objects as historical documents provides us with the best lead to understand the power visual representations had in the political and religious life of past cultures.1 From the analysis of an annual medal from Pope Clement XIV, my aim is to analyse the relationships between Church and State in the middle of the XVIII century. The regalist policies of Catholic monarchies to revert to their sovereignty the prerogatives of temporal order then in the hands of the Pontiff will use anti-jesuitism as one of their main instruments. The beginning of the strife against the Society of Jesus took place in Portugal under the reign of Joseph I, governed by the secretary of the Negócios do Reino, Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo, in years to come Count of Oeiras and better known for his last title, Marquis of Pombal. The Portuguese precedent of Jesuit expulsion, signed on the 3rd of September 1759 was mirrored in the territories under the rule of the House of Bourbon. The dissolution of the order in France in 17642 was followed with the expulsion of the Society of Jesus in the lands of the Hispanic monarchy3 and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies4 in 1767 and a year later in the Parma Duchy.5 Throughout these developments, the position of the pontificate of Clement XIII was to maintain the support and defence of the Society of Jesus. In addition, the Portuguese king decision to send the expelled Jesuits to the Papal States was a measure

This article had the support of CHAM (NOVA FCSH/UAc), through the strategic project sponsored by FCT (UID/HIS/04666/2013). This work is part of the research results of the Proyecto del Programa Estatal de Fomento de la Investigación Científica y Técnica de Excelencia MINECO: Economía y Élites de Poder en la España Moderna (HAR2016-77305-P). 1 Peter Burke, Visto y no visto. El uso de la imagen como documento histórico, Barcelona: Crítica, 2001, esp. pp. 183–185. 2 Dale van Kley, The Jansenists and the Expulsion of the Jesuits from France, 1757–1765, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1975 and Dale van Kley, The Religious Origins of the French Revolution: From Calvin to the Civil Constitution, 1560–1791, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996. 3 Enrique Giménez López (ed.), Expulsión y Exilio de los jesuitas españoles, Alicante: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Alicante, 1997 and Enrique Giménez López (ed.), Y en el tercero perecerán. Gloria, caída y exilio de los jesuitas españoles, Alicante: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Alicante, 2002. 4 Fernando Renda, L’espulsione dei Gesuiti dalle Due Sicilie, Palermo: Sellerio, 1993. 5 Giovanni Gonzi, L’espulsione dei Gesuiti dai ducati parmesi, in: Aurea Parma L:3 (1966), pp. 154–193 and LI:1 (1967), pp. 3–62.

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repeated with the Jesuits coming from Spanish, Neapolitan and Parmesan dominions. Society of Jesus influence over Rezzonico Pope was manifest since his formation years in the school of the order in Bologna and it explained his attitude in light of the downfall of the Society of Jesus which started in Portugal and which culminated with the severance of diplomatic relations in 1760.

Historical background: diplomatic breakdown between Rome and Lisbon in 1760 When Clement XIII accessed the Papal throne in July 1758, Portuguese monarchy had obtained from his predecessor the brief In Specula Suprema Dignitatis, which allowed the reform of Portuguese Jesuits. The consequence of the implementation of the reformation brief was the visit of Cardinal Saldanha to San Roque professed house, culminating in the edict of 15th May 1758, where Jesuits were accused of “scandalous” commercial dealings, and found guilty of the usurpation of Portugal and Spain monarchs’ sovereignty as well as of the property and freedom of the native Americans in the missions. Thus, the edict confirmed the official version that Jesuits had instigated the indigenous uprising against Madrid Treaty of 1750 and had created their own state within the Iberian monarchies dominions. As a result, Clement XIII agreed to the requests of the Superior General of the Society of Jesus, Lorenzo Ricci, to repeal the reformation brief and instead replace it by a panel of cardinals who would examine all the accusations made against the Jesuits by the Pombalian government.6 The reaction of the Portuguese representative was to resort to every necessary resource, from bribery7 to threats to Curia’s main cardinals claiming that the king would expel Jesuits if the brief was moderated in any way or any other favourable measure decided.8 The ambassador manoeuvres were successful and the ruling of the cardinals congregation summoned by Clement XIII,

6 A copy can be seen in Julio Biker, Colecção dos Negócios de Roma no reinado de El-rei D. José I, Ministerio do marquez de Pombal e pontificado de Clemente XIII, Parte I. Lisbon, 1874, pp. 59–61. From now on Col. Neg. Roma. 7 According to Antonio Ferrão’s study, Lisbon sent around one hundred thousand cruzados distributed in several presents such as silverware from Paris, Saxony china, rough diamonds, four rings with precious stones from Brazil and boxes of wine from Carcavelos and Madeira, as well as sugar. Antonio Ferrão, O marquês de Pombal e a expulsão dos jesuitas, 1759, in: Boletim da Segunda Classe da Academia das Ciencias de Lisboa Vol. XVIII (1932), pp. 331–333. 8 Arquivio Historico Societatis Iesu (Rome), Asistencia Lusitania, from now on ARSI, Lus. 110. Francisco Almada a Luis da Cunha. Rome, 17th August 1758.





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on the 24th of August 1758, was unfavourable to Jesuits, as it considered there was no founded reason to repeal the reformation brief.9 However, the main disagreement with the Lisbon Court took place when the Pope did not respond with swiftness to the petition of having the Jesuits accused of instigating the frustrated magnicide of Joseph I, on the 3rd September 1758, judged by a royal court instead of by canonic law. Pope Clement XIII agreed to it in August 1759. Nevertheless, Pombal rejected the brief, as it did not extend that jurisdictional power for future cases. The papal answer arrived with delay and many conditions, among which was that the trial that had to be overseen by the Nuncio Filippo Acciaiuoli,10 and it did not extend secular jurisdiction for future cases.11 Nonetheless, Pombal rejected the brief and three Jesuits charged with direct participation in the magnicide were imprisoned. The accusation against the Jesuits as intellectual authors of the failed attack was used as the justification to decree the law of expulsion of the Society of Jesus from Portuguese dominions in September 1759. On the other hand, the handling of the situation by the Portuguese ambassador in Rome was very complex, due to his extremely impetuous and suspicious character and to his Court indifference to maintain the protocol with the Holy Father, to whom they did not congratulate on his accession to the papal throne.12 At the same time, affronts to pontifical authority took place in Lisbon, where Nuncio Acciaiuoli was ostracised in the Court, to the point that, after his elevation to cardinal, the king did not offer the cardinal biretta in a public ceremony, as it was customary, nor was he invited to the celebration of the royal birthday.13 In such a situation, the nuncio’s decision not to light in his palace the customary lanterns in celebration of the marriage of the crown princess and not to send the preceptive congratulatory note on the nuptials was the excuse Pombal used to expel the nuncio and decree the severance of ties with the Holy See in June 1760.14 Thus, the rupture with Rome started, despite the conciliation attempt made by Clement XIII when he requested the mediation of the Spanish king. However, Charles III abandoned his mediating role in November 1761 in the light of Joseph I position of

9 ARSI, Lus. 110. Francisco Almada a Luis da Cunha. Rome, 31st August 1758. 10 Francisco de Almada a Pombal. Rome, 9th August 1759. Document transcribed in Ferrão 1932 (as fn. 7), pp. 421–425. 11 Archivo General de Simancas, Sección Estado, from now on A. G. S. Estado. Leg. 7.263. Conde de Maceda a Ricardo Wall. Lisbon, 18th September 1759. 12 ARSI, Lus. 110. Francisco Almada a Luis da Cunha. Rome, 11th October 1758 and 4th January 1759. 13 Samuel Miller, Portugal and Rome, c. 1748–1830. An aspect of the Catholic Enlightement, Rome: Universitá Gregoriana Editrice, 1978, p. 103. 14 Biblioteca Nacional de España, from now on B.N.E, Sección Manuscritos, Colección de Varios Papeles, T. IV R/23751(3). Luis da Cunha a Acciaiuoli. Palace, 14th June 1760.



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not elaborating on his controversies with Rome.15 Portuguese monarchy’s reason to maintain the rupture is explained as an opportunity to put into practice a Portuguese national church, in imitation of French Gallicanism, free from Roman interference. In this way, Pombal made use of regalist resources such as refusing to grant the regium exequatur or conferring the royal assent to papal documents. The first point of the Pombalian reformist programme was to detract from ecclesiastical jurisdiction the control over the Inquisition, which fell under the control of the monarchy. This took place in 1760 when a Holy Office censor condemned the book De potestate regis, composed by the Police General Superintendent. The text, of regalist fashion, intended to offer doctrinal justification of crown privilege in detriment of the power of the church. The immediate consequence was the banishment of the General Inquisitor, illegitimate son of John V and the exile of the censor. The Holy Office direction went to Paulo Carvalho, Pombal’s brother.16 The image of this new Inquisition, overseen by the State, was captured in the proceedings and execution of one of the Jesuits involved in the magnicide, Father Gabriel Malagrida in 1761.17 Nevertheless, all those matters which should be processed with the nunciature or the Holy See, such as the issue of bishops confirmation, or marriage dispensations among Portuguese subjects could entail many a problem for Portugal. As a result, regalist and episcopalian solutions were posed by theologians close to the Portuguese minister in 1766. João Ramos de Azevedo Coutinho, with his work Tratado Sobre o Poder dos Bispos, offered a temporal solution when considering that new bishops would be administrators of their sees and not consecrated bishops lacking papal confirmation.18 At the same time, the work Tentativa Teológica by Antonio Pereira de Figuereido justified that the pontifical power to administer marriage dispensations could be reverted to bishops during the period of severance of diplomatic ties.19 Other facts that undermined papal authority was the creation in 1768 of the Real Mesa Censória as the state books censorship organ as well as the banning of the Index of forbidden books, made annually in Rome.20 The international situation, unfavourable to the Society of Jesus, added to the Portuguese internal ecclesiastical policies. In particular, the expulsion of Spanish

15 Mar García Arenas, Portugal y España contra los jesuitas. Las monarquías ibéricas y la Compañía de Jesús (1755–1773), Madrid: Centro de Estudios Políticos y Constitucionales, 2014, pp. 223–233. 16 Francisco Contente Domingues, Ilustração e Catolicismo. Teodoro de Almeida, Lisbon: Edições Colibri, 1994, p. 88. 17 Joaquim Romero Magalhaes, La Inquisición portuguesa: intento de periodización, in: Revista de la Inquisición nº 2 (1992), pp. 71–93, p. 78. 18 Miller 1978 (as fn. 13), pp. 149–155. 19 On his political thoufhts and his role in Pombalian ministry, see Zilia Osório de Castro, O regalismo em Portugal. Antonio Pereira de Figuereido, Lisbon: C.H.C-U.N.L, 1987. 20 Rui Tavares, O Censor Iluminado. Ensaio sobre o Pombalismo e a Revolução Cultural do Século XVIII, Lisbon: Tinta China, 2018.





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Jesuits was of significant relevance on a political level, as it meant a rapprochement between Iberian monarchies that coalesced in the negotiations in may 1767 of a twofold alliance. On the one hand, the ecclesiastical point, aimed at achieving the pontifical extinction of the Jesuits, which would prolong, with highs and lows, until 1773. On the other hand, the political point, on the formalisation of a treaty which involved Portugal abandon of the alliance with England and its entry in the orbit of the House of Bourbon.21

The process of abolition of Jesuits and the reconciliation between Portugal and the Holy See Regarding the negotiation on the end of the Society of Jesus, known already as “common cause” once the catholic coalition among between France, Spain, Portugal and the Kingdom of Two Sicilies was formalised, it must be stressed that it was affected by the frustrated political alliance between Madrid and Lisbon in may 1768, due to the conflict of interests between both monarchies regarding the American borders. The consequence was that bourbon politics would use Portuguese support against Rome on their whim, as Portugal cooperation reinforced the monarchs position against the pope, but that would be on a secondary level, which conditioned Francisco de Almada e Mendoça’s mission as Portuguese representative in Rome.22 Due to the rupture between Lisbon and Rome, Almada could only enter the Eternal City and perform his duties as Portuguese crown representative during the conclave after the death of Clement XIII. The election of the Franciscan Lorenzo Ganganelli as Clement XIV23 was possible after committing to signing the Society of Jesus dissolution bull.24 Nevertheless, his stance was to slow down as much as possible the requirements from the allied diplomacy. The pope’s reluctance was understandable,

21 Enrique Giménez López, Portugal y España contra Roma: Los inicios del proceso de extinción de la Compañía de Jesús (1767–1769), in Enrique Giménez López (ed.), Y en el tercero perecerán. Gloria, caída y exilio de los jesuitas españoles, Alicante: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Alicante, 2002, pp. 293–325. 22 See García Arenas 2014 (as fn. 5), pp. 355–464. 23 Massimo Moretti, Clemente XIV Ganganelli: immagini e memorie di un pontificato, Santarcangelo di Romagna: Maggioli Editore, 2006. 24 Francisco Belmonte Más, El Cónclave de 1769 en la correspondencia diplomática, in Enrique Giménez López (ed.), Y en el tercero perecerán. Gloria, caída y exilio de los jesuitas españoles, Alicante: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Alicante, 2002, pp. 407–426. Niccolò Guasti, Clemente XIV e la diplomazia borbonica: la genesi del breve di sopressione dela Compagnia di Gesú, in Mario Rosa and Marina Colonna (eds.), L’Età di papa Clemente XIV: Religione, Politica, Cultura, Rome: Bulzoni Editora, 2010, pp. 29–77.



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as it meant not only ending one of the most important bastions of Catholicism, but it also involved the Holy See’s surrender before the monarchs, which could entice further regalist demands. One of the strategies of these dilatory policies was to neuter the Portuguese pressure on the dissolution of the Jesuits. In addition, the Pope also wanted to avoid a further estrangement of Portugal on apostolic issues, containing regalist aspirations. Thus, in August 1769, Clement XIV began the opening of secret dealings with Pombal to end the severance of diplomatic ties.25 The letter sent by Clement XIV to Pombal on 28th August 1769 meant opening the communication channels between both courts. The initiative fell on the Holy See, as Clement XIV was aware of the fact that Pombal would have never made the first move to start negotiations towards reconciliation. Therefore, the pope was confident that Lisbon would send the list of candidates to cardinalate and would admit monsignor Inocencio Conti as the new nuncio in Lisbon in the same way that Almada had been received as Portugal plenipotentiary minister in Rome. As a result, Pombal considered “useful and necessary” to agree to the opening offered by Clement XIV for several reasons. In first place, “there is no harm” in receiving the nuncio and beginning correspondence with Rome. In addition, the minister was certain that Joseph I “will not budge an inch with the arrival of the nuncio regarding his firm and sustainable interests, on the contrary, he would do whatever is needed to preserve them”, in clear reference to the attributions undertaken by the Portuguese king during the rupture,26 and because the matter of the dissolution of Jesuits was on the table as an unquestionable matter.27 In a nutshell, Pombal accepted the reconciliation but under new circumstances, that is, the papal acknowledgement of “faits accomplish” such as the Real Mesa Censória, the confirmation of the prelates designated during the rupture and the validity of the marriage dispensations granted until then. Finally, Clement XIV had to yield to the Pombalian demands of incorporating the rents of the richest monasteries to the Royal Treasury, the demise of conventual Franciscans and the dismembering of some bishoprics to create new ones such as Aveiro, Braganza, Penhafiel, Castelo Branco, Pinhel and Beja, to compensate the clerics close to his government and to maintain a firmer control over the church.28 In short, Pombal make the most of the situation and achieved important advantages in exchange for accepting the timing set by Clement XIV to carry out the dissolution of the Society of Jesus.

25 Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo Lisbon, Fundo Ministerio dos Negócios Estrangeiros, from now on AN/TT. M.N.E. Livro 126. Almada a Pombal. Rome, 30th August 1769. 26 Cálculo Político presented to the State Council, 30th August 1769. In Col. Neg. Roma, T. III, pp. 62–64. 27 Ibid., p. 59. 28 Miller 1978 (as fn. 13), p. 237; Col. Neg. Roma, T. III, pp. 241–275 and pp. 346–365 and Ludwig Pastor, Historia de los Papas en Época de la Monarquía Absoluta. Clemente XIV, Vol.  XXXVII, Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 1937, pp. 105–117.





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The staging of the reconciliation: the pontifical annual medal of 1770 As we have mentioned, the negotiations were kept in the strictest secrecy at the request of Clement XIV, until towards the end of November 1769 the Rome Gazette published that monsignor Conti had been appointed nuncio in Lisbon, thus implying that reconciliation was on its way.29 The event was of vital importance for Clement XIV and an important achievement to strengthen his image and his power as spiritual guide in the catholic world. In addition, the fact having begun and achieved the reconciliation with the Portuguese crown showed signs of the strength of his pontificate in light of the regalist pressures from monarchies. In this sense, it was an important victory for the pope, as he showed he had restrained the autonomous drift in the ecclesiastical policies of the all-powerful Portuguese minister, and at the same time, he had changed a formidable adversary into an ally, not only on the Jesuit issue, but also regarding the attacks to the temporal power of the pontiff. Thus, in order to convey this message, Clement XIV decided to dedicate the annual medal of his second year of pontificate to the restoration of the relations with Portugal. The annual medals were issued on the 29th of June of every year during the festivities of the Saints Peter and Paul, one of the most relevant dates in the Roman calendar, a tradition established by Paul V in 1605. The front showed the effigy of the ruling Pope, with his name and year of papacy. The back side was devoted to showing an important event.30 The annual medals were the best exponents to project the political and religious messages of the papacy in its contemporary’s collective cosmovision. In addition, they served to promote the image of the Pope; because of their size, amount and value, they allowed for the deployment of an strategy that can be called “portable propaganda”. As a result, a great number were coined in gold, silver, bronze and other alloys in order to be sent and shared among foreign diplomats stationed in Rome, the courts and prominent people.31 The design and mintage of the medal fell on to Ferdinando Hamerani (1730–1789), engraver and medallist, hired as incisore camerale by the Revered Vatican Chamber,

29 Azara a Roda, Rome, 30th November 1769. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolas de Azara, descubierto en su correspondencia epistolar con Don Manuel de Roda, T. I, Madrid: Imprenta J. Martín Alegría, 1846, pp. 369–370. From now on El espíritu de D. José Nicolas de Azara. 30 Franco Bartolotti, La Medaglia Annuale dei Romani Pontefici da Paolo V a Paolo VI, 1605–1967, Rimini: Stabilimento Grafico Cosmi, 1967. Adolfo Modesti, La Medaglia “Annual” dei Romani Pontefici, Roma: Accademia Italiana di Studi Numismatici, 2007. Walter Miselli, Il Papato dal 1700–1730 Attraverso le Medaglie, Torino: Il Centauro, 1997; Walter Miselli, Il Papato dal 1669–1700 Attraverso le Medaglie, Pavia: Numismatica Varesi, 2001 and Walter Miselli, Il Papato dal 1605 al 1669 Attraverso le Medaglie, Pavia: Numismatica Varesi, 2003. 31 Matthew Knox Averett, Pressing Metal, Pressing Politics: Papal Annual Medals, 1605–1700, in: Religions 7, 60 (2016), pp. 1–15, p. 2 https://doi.org/10.3390/rel7050060 [accessed November 27, 2018].



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Fig. 1: Annual bronze medal of pope Clement XIV (obverse), Ferdinando Hamerani, 1770, BNP Medalhas, 389.

Fig. 2: Annual bronze medal of pope Clement XIV (reverse), Ferdinando Hamerani, 1770, BNP,  Medalhas 389. 

and he was the engraver of the Roman mint since 1761, after the death of his father, Ottone. The Hameranis were known for their craftsmanship in the design and engraving of medals, coins and stamps for the Papal States for almost two centuries. This privileged position allowed them to reach an important status both artistic and economic, and their fame spread all over Europe. Ferdinando Hamerani did not engrave the pieces himself, and was assisted by Filippo Cropanese. Between 1761 and 1789, he devoted himself to the minting of the papal medals. Due to debts left by his father, he had to leave the workshop all’ Insegna della Lupa in Via dei Coronari, to move to Via Santa Anna in the parish of San Carlo Catenari, where he had an study and premises on the ground floor, with the name Negocio della Conniatura, incisione e vendita delle Medaglie. Around the seventies of the eighteen-century many young engravers aiming to improve their engraving and minting skills went there. The fees from these pupils provided Ferdinando with a lucrative complementary source of income.32 Therefore, Clement XIV second annual medal was minted33 in different metals such as gold, silver, bronze and golden bronze and golden bronze (gold-plated bronze).34 At the obverse (fig.  1),35 in the edging there is the legend CLEMENS XIV,

32 Teresa Aymanì Aymanì, Aproximación al estudio de las medallas devocionales Hamerani de los siglos XVII–XVIII, In: Gaceta Numismática 187 (Junio 2014), pp. 15–39, p. 18 and p. 20. 33 241 medals were minted in gold and 438 in silver. Bartolotti 1967 (as fn. 30), p. 167. 34 A magnificent collection of images and information of medals minted in different metals can be found in the web lamoneta.it. Network di Numismatica e Storica. Numismatica Italiana. https:// numismatica-italiana.lamoneta.it/moneta/W-D332/1 [accessed November 27, 2018]. 35 Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal (BNP) Medalhas 389:  Reconciliação entre Portugal e a Santa





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PONT [IFEX] M[AXIMUS], A[NNO] II and in the centre the bust of the pope, facing right with biretta and stole. At the reverse (fig.  2), in the upper arch of the edging there is the legend: REFVLGIT SOL (the sun shines) and in the exergue ‘CONCORDIA A[NNO] MDCCLXX. In the centre, the pope, standing and dressed in chasuble and cope, crowned with the papal crown (triregnum) embraces a warrior,—dressed in the fashion of the classical era and with a processional cross leaning on his left shoulder—, representing Portugal. On the bottom left area, the Holy Father is treading on an old prostrating woman, covered by a shawl, who is biting her right hand. She is the representation of envy, one of the capital sins, whose main features were described by Andrea Alciato: “that old hag of staring eyes, yellowish visage, who eats vipers and even her own heart”. The iconologist Cesare Ripa presented envy in two different allegories and in the medal the model that appears describes the capital sin as “an old and scruffily dressed woman, her garments the colour of rust. She is to take her hand to her mouth, as low and idle woman do. And she shall seem to squint and look sideways”.36 The precedents of the envy model represented in the medal, which might have served as inspiration to the artist, can be found in the frescoes of Luca Signorelli (1499–1502) in the Chapel of San Brizio in Orvieto Cathedral37 and in Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, in the fresco Time Revealing Truth and Casting Out Envy (1734), located in Villa Loschi Zileri, in Monteviale (Vicenza).38 On the upper left side of the Pope the sun appears emerging among clouds, a reference corresponding to the preponderance of the solar symbolism during the Modern Era. The sun is the symbol of power par excellence since the first civilisations, mutating throughout time but maintaining its symbolism. With the emergence of Christianity, the sun and its light were assimilated to God and Christ.39 Likewise, the reigning monarchs of Valois, Habsburg, Stuart, Bourbon dynasties, and even the republican Cromwell, appropriated the solar iconography to convey their power in art medals.40 The inclusion of solar symbology in the back of the medal, in this case shedding light with its rays after a period of darkness in reference to the severance of diplomatic ties, can be understood as show of the papal power over monarchical

Sé Roma, 1770. I am thankful for the permission from Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal to allow the reproduction of the image and in particular for the kind help of João Pedro Vieira, Curator of coins and paper money, of Money Museum Division of Lisbon, Bank of Portugal. 36 Cesare Ripa, Iconología. T.1, Madrid: Akal, 1987, p. 343. 37 http://www.polomuseale.firenze.it/catalogo/scheda.asp?nctn=00285580&value=1 [accessed May  31, 2021]. 38 https://www.wga.hu/html_m/t/tiepolo/gianbatt/1villalo/stair1.html [accessed May 31, 2021]. 39 María Paz García-Gelabert Pérez, Consideraciones acerca de la iconografía solar. Pervivencias, in: Hispania Antiqva XXXVI (2012), pp. 195–220, p. 202. 40 Víctor Mínguez Cornelles, Los reyes solares: iconografía astral de la monarquía hispánica, Castellón de la Plana: Publicacions Universitat Jaume I, 2001, p. 52.



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power, by virtue of its spiritual facet. Since the pope, as the monarchs, is a temporal sovereign, but is invested with a superior power as Vicar of Christ on earth. On the left area, behind the warrior, there is the dragon or winged snake, which stands for the House of Braganza, and which became the symbol of the Portuguese monarchy, securing with its teeth an oval crest with Portugal royal arms.41 Part of the evidence to know how the decision to choose the legend and theme of the annual papal medal was made lies in the correspondence of the Spanish Agente de Preces, José Nicolás de Azara. In the middle of May 1770, he informed that the pope had ordered to coin a medal to celebrate the understanding with Portugal and the back would depict a scene where “the church embraces Lusitania with an allusive motto”.42 At the beginning of June, the diplomat offered more details regarding the inscription that the edging should include; the pontifical counsellors decided it to be Post Tenebras Lucem (after darkness light comes). However, Clement XIV deemed it too arrogant. According to Azara, the pope found the proposal annoying, and in addition to rejecting it, he decided to keep the content of the inscription secret, and reveal it in person the very day of the minting.43 The annoyance of Clement XIV was understandable, since the suggested inscription, despite putting into words the solar symbology shown in the medal, could be regarded as a provocation and an affront to Joseph I and his minister, ruining the delay strategies in the dissolution of Jesuits and instead of placating Portuguese pressure, it could exacerbate it. At the end, according to the Spanish diplomat, the motto was decided between the pope and Almada, alluding to the reconciliation represented by the pope embracing Lusitania, and it was Almada who suggested that the warrior should carry the devotional cross. Regarding the choice of the topic of envy, the always ironic Azara pointed out that it was the topic the pope included in all his medals: “Fra Lorenzo believes to be envied and he might well be when he thinks so”.44 At this point it is pertinent to analyse the connotation envy had for the culture of the 18th century. In addition to being one of the capital sins of catholicism, the topic had deep roots in humanism and generated historic-artistic debates and numerous iconographic representations. In fact, for David Cast, envy was the central metaphor of Renaissance social thinking.45 Therefore, reflection on envy was widely spread in the Modern Era, as it was a sin that was linked to notions such as competence, fame, slander, emulation or a desire to excel, although most commonly it was used as a

41 Miguel Metelo de Seixas, El simbolismo del territorio en la heráldica regia portuguesa. En torno a las armas del Reino Unido de Portugal, Brasil y Algarves, in: Emblemata 16 (2010), pp. 285–329, p. 299. 42 Azara a Roda, Rome, 17th May 1770. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolás de Azara, T. II, p. 58. 43 Azara a Roda, Rome, 7th June 1770. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolás de Azara, T. II, p. 68. 44 Azara a Roda, Roma, 5th June 1770. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolás de Azara, T. II, p. 77. 45 David Cast, The Calumny of Apelles. A Study in the Humanistic Tradition, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981.





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reason for self-assertion and evidence of one’s own importance.46 This last use of envy was the one sought after by Clement XIV, a self-representation of his power as Azara discerningly pointed out: the well-known medal was made and its motto Post Tenebras Lucem changed into a worse one, i. e., Sol Refulgit. History is full of monuments erected by adulation to power, but Princes who flatter themselves so greatly are scarce. I say so because this medal and its inscription is begotten and delivered by the Pope himself, without midwife’s help. Alejandro and others, who fell in the nonsense of making themselves gods and similar foolishness, at least did it after having accomplished feats larger than life.47

But with this figure of envy and the coining of the medal, Clement XIV was not only asserting his power against temporal monarchs, but also showing his success as church shepherd guiding the returning to the fold of the Portuguese crown after it went astray with its predecessor Clement XIII. The pope Rezzonico wanted to put on the record his unsuccessful wishes and attempts to reconcile with the Portuguese government throughout the years, and which became the theme of the annual medal of his last year of papacy in 1766 and released in 1767 with the motto Patiens Est Benigna Est.48

Implications of the reconciliation between Rome and Lisbon in the suppression of Jesuits The next step of Clement XIV to guarantee the success of this delaying strategy to sign the suppression of the Society of Jesus was to sow discord among the diplomats of the allied monarchies. The pope was aware that the weakest link was Portugal, as the other monarchs were had a closer association beyond their anti-Jesuitism, as they belonged to the same dynasty and had political alliances. In order to disrupt the “common cause” it was fundamental the assistance of monsignor Macedonio, Segretario dei Memoriali, who would become the confidential intermediary between the pope and Almada, and the one responsible to undermine the good relationships between the Portuguese and his bourbon colleagues. Macedonio fostered the Portuguese mistrust towards his colleagues, pointing out that he was not invited to all the meetings the bourbon ambassadors held in the Spanish embassy palace between monsignor Azpuru and the Cardinals Bernis and Orsini, to deal with

46 Javier Portús, Envidia y conciencia creativa en el Siglo de Oro, in: Anales de Historia del Arte, (2008), pp. 135–149, p. 136. 47 Azara a Roda, Rome, 21st June 1770. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolás de Azara, T. II, p. 72. 48 Bartolotti 1967 (as fn. 30), p. 86.



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the suppression of the Jesuit order. In addition, Macedonio confessed to Almada that the pope did not trust Spain and France’s representatives, since he regarded both Azpuru and Bernis as supporters of the Society of Jesus.49 It must be taking into consideration that the pontifical intermediary mission had a number of favourable factors: in first place, regarding the “common cause”. Spanish politicians had decided to relegate Portugal to a minor role. In addition, it must be considered Pombal’s discontent because the allied monarchs discarded his initiatives, especially by the Spanish king. Last, the susceptible and suspicious character of the Portuguese ambassador. The confluence of all these factors made it possible the triumph of Clement XIV, since the lack of trust and cooperation was the overall trend among the allied diplomats for more than three years and, as a result, it allowed the delay in the decision to end the Jesuit order. A situation that did not go unnoticed to José Nicolás de Azara: “now I do not wonder that the pope has medals coined and claims victory, I am afraid that too soon he will coin them for us”.50 However, in March 1771, the inactivity of Clement XIV forced Charles III to write a letter where he expressed his misgivings about the dealings to dissolve the Jesuit order. The Spanish king intervention had a consequence which affected directly Almada’s mission and which proved that the pope had achieved his goal in placating Portugal’s pressure on the Jesuit topic. There is no doubt that it was a calculated moved by the pope to get rid of the pressure of the monarchs, since Pombal wrote to Almada, dated on 11th August 1771, where he ordered him not to reiterate before Clement XIV the usual instances in advocating the extinction of the Society of Jesus until further notice.51 This unusual decision of Pombal to relegate the matter to a hibernation status was a fact, since until December 1772 there was no order from Lisbon regarding this matter to be found in the correspondence with Almada. This attitude may seem surprising when Pombal’s odium jesuitarum was considered legendary. Samuel Miller attributed this to the fact that the Bourbons rejected his methods to achieve the extinction and his claim to be Portugal, which led the way in the negotiations with the Holy See. Although I endorse this hypothesis, I think Pombal’s accommodating position towards Clement XIV dilatory policies had to do as well with the Portuguese priority in making the most of all the possible benefits of the reconciliation with Rome. Last, Pombal was convinced that Spanish insistence would put Jesuit existence to an end. Spanish monarchy leading role in the extinction was assumed by Portugal when Almada received from monsignor Macedonio a letter from Clement XIV addressed to the Portuguese king and to Pombal where it was revealed that from his pontificate

49 García Arenas 2014 (as fn. 15), pp. 422–433. 50 Azara a Roda, Rome, 21st June 1770. In El espíritu de D. José Nicolás de Azara, T. II, p. 64. 51 AN/TT. M.N.E. Livro 126. Almada a Pombal. Rome, 31st August 1771.





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“measures will be taken to bring to an end the important matter object of this correspondence between the monarch of the Spains with whom we share sentiment and behaviour”.52

Conclusions Finally, we must point out that the image represented in the annual medal is an exception to the new identity of pontifical power during the 18th century. It was during the papacy of Urban VIII, towards 1632, when it was decided to include political messages in the annual medals, as it was considered a means par excellence of pontifical propaganda, a practice that was maintained successive popes. Thus, the main goal was to send specific political messages to other powers, a place from where the papal power claimed his position among the great princes and main actors of the European political scene. As a result, in the medals the pope was represented as a Renaissance prince and heir to Roman emperors up to Innocent XII. It is traditionally considered that at the dawn of the 18th century the decline of the political and military power of the papacy is confirmed, and the annual medals, with some exceptions,53 would show the pope in his supreme aspect of vicar of Christ, with topics and messages linked to his pastoral duties, and less as a temporal prince. This is the common approach that differs with the previous century.54 However, current historiography has put into question the loss of power of the pope in the catholic world,55 so these exceptions in the annual medals become a fundamental exhibition of the political power of the papacy and a tool to understand the strife between the Church and the State.56 In my view, this medal is an exception because it contains a political message. The pope is represented as the highest spiritual authority but showing his power to limit or lessen the regalist claims of monarchs on temporal issues inherent to the religious sphere. The propaganda impact the medal offered a victorious portrayal of the

52 AN/TT. M.N.E. Livro 126. Almada a Pombal. 18th January 1770. Attached letter in Italian in the original, dated in Quirinale Palace, 18th January, 1770. 53 Until 1724: The End of the Spanish Succession War (1714), The Signing of the Utrecht Peace (1715), The Great Turkish War (1717). 54 Knox 2016 (as fn. 31), pp. 2–3 and 10. 55 Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro, Relações de Portugal com a Santa Sé no reinado de D. João V, in: Janus on-line (1999–2000), https://www.janusonline.pt/arquivo/1999_2000/1999_2000_1_18.html#dados [accessed December 29, 2018], David Martín Marcos, El Papado y la Guerra de Sucesión Española, Madrid: Silex, 2011. 56 In my opinion, The Signing of Spanish Concordate (1754), The Attempts of Reconciliation with Portugal (1767), The Restoration of Diplomatic Ties with Portugal (1770) The Christening of the Infant of Spain (1772) and The Suppression of the Society of Jesus (1774).



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pontiff, relegating to the background the surrender to Portuguese conditions. Staging the concord with Portugal, the pope showed the rest of catholic monarchs, in particular those of the House of Bourbon, that he was able to bend the will of one of the staunchest regalist, such as it was the marquis of Pombal. The pope’s message was clear: he was the only authority on religious matters and regarding the suppression of the Jesuit order he would reach a decision when he considered it convenient, not due to monarchic pressure. The victory of the Pope over monarchs was an ephemeral one, since his efforts in delaying the dissolution of the Jesuits annoyed French and Spanish politicians who understood in March 1772 that the situation required an emergency solution. The decision was to choose a layman “steadfast, skilful and achieving” who put relentless pressure on the Pope until he achieved the order of dissolution. The opportunity materialised after the death of Azpuru and the chosen substitute has the energetic prosecutor of the Council of Castilia, José Moñino.57 The future Count of Floridablanca arrived in July of 1772 and, after securing Portuguese cooperation, in barely five months and eight audiences managed to have Clement XIV sign—on 4th July 1773— the brief Dominus ac Redemptor which entailed the end of the Society of Jesus.58 A historical development that was the focus of the annual medal of the VI year (1774) of Clement XIV’s pontificate, with the distinctive feature that medals were released with four different representations on their back.59

57 Enrique Giménez Lopez, Misión en Roma. Floridablanca y la extinción de los jesuitas, Murcia: Editum, 2009, pp. 15–19. Conde de Floridablanca, Cartas desde Roma para la extinción de los jesuitas. Correspondencia, julio 1772 — septiembre 1774. Estudio introductorio, edición y notas de Enrique Giménez López. Alicante: Publicaciones Universidad de Alicante, 2009. 58 Dale van Kley, Reform Catholicism and the International Suppression of the Jesuits in Enlightenment Europe, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018. 59 Bartolotti 1967 (as fn. 30), p. 195.



Negotiating with Faith

Amanda van der Drift

Picturing Politics and Diplomacy King Francis I, Saint John the Baptist and the Franco-Ottoman Alliance A relatively small, vibrantly coloured, unframed oil painting on panel hangs above the mantle of a converted fireplace in a room on the upper level of the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire in Cognac, France (fig. 1). The work of art is titled Saint John the Baptist Preaching in the Presence of Francis I (c. 1525–1530). The highly symbolic, unattributed painting features a rare, early painted portrait of the French king who is shown before the preaching Saint in the company of family members from the French ruling house of Valois, and non-Christian inhabitants of eastern lands under the rule of the Muslim Ottoman Empire. Art historian Pauline Reverchon, proposes that the subject of the painting may have been inspired by one of two contemporary events; Pope Leo X’s expectations that Francis I lead a crusade to reclaim the Holy land following the signing of The Concordat of Bologna in 1516, or as a cautionary work reminding the French king of his responsibilities as defender of Christendom. The latter proposal is suggested in light of Francis I’s decision in 1525 to seek aid from the Ottoman sultan Suleiman (1494/1495–1566) against Habsburg aggression in Europe.1 Art historian Lisa Mansfield suggests the painting was produced as a commemorative work, created when Francis I (1494­–1547) visited his birth place at Cognac between 27 April and 28 May 1526, soon after his release from imprisonment in Spain.2 The French king had been captured by the Spanish-Habsburg forces of his nemesis, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (1500–1558), and imprisoned in Madrid following the French defeat at the Battle of Pavia in 1525. Building upon the respective analyses made by Reverchon and Mansfield, this chapter investigates the painting as an early example, if not the first pictorial example, of French articulations of the covert political relationship between the ‘most Christian king’, Francis I of France, and the ruler of the Ottoman Empire, the supreme caliph of the Muslim world, Sultan Suleiman. Further to this, the chapter aims to illuminate the manner in which the paradox concerning the relationship based on cultural pretexts was negotiated and conceptualised in the image for the intended audience. A detailed examination of the subject, themes and compositional elements featured in the painting within the framework of contemporary French socio-cultural proclivities and the fraught geo-political milieu, provides

1 Letter of Pauline Reverchon, Conservateur honoraire de Musée de Cognac, 9 May, 1995, Archives, Musée d’Art et d’Histoire, Cognac, France. 2 Lisa Mansfield, Representations of Renaissance Monarchy. Francis I and the Image-Makers, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2016, p. 4.

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Fig. 1: Unknown (French), Saint John the Baptist Preaching in the Presence of Francis I, 1525–1530. Oil on panel, 83 cm × 67 cm. Musée d’Art et d’Histoire, Cognac.





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evidence that the work of art functioned as propaganda to endorse the controversial cross-cultural alliance and promote the political agenda of the Valois dynasty based on the prophetic concept of a French-led universal Christian monarchy. To support this view, an overview of the geo-political situation surrounding the formation of the covert relationship, and an explanation of the integral role Christianity, Islam and the Turk played in shaping French identity and legitimizing the imperial claims of French kings, will precede a detailed analysis of the painting.

King Francis I and Sultan Suleiman: An antithetical pairing? At the time the French painting was produced, Europe was experiencing internal political unrest, and the geo-political and cultural integrity of Christendom was perceived to be under threat from internal and external forces. Europe was divided by dynastic conflict, most fervently fought on German and Italian soil between the Spanish-Habsburg, and the French Valois dynasties under the rule of Charles V and Francis I respectively.3 The rivals each sought hegemony in a Europe united under the Roman Church, however the growing strength of Lutheranism and the ensuing political allegiances of the protestant states of Europe prevented all possibility of a unified Christian realm.4 Within Europe, the ascendancy of the Habsburg Empire posed a serious threat to the balance of power, leaving France virtually encircled and Valois ambitions in Europe constrained. Further to this, Christendom’s borders were being eroded by the rapid expansion of the Muslim Ottoman Empire. Suleiman had become sultan of the Ottoman Empire in 1520 and in the decade following his accession he successfully worked to consolidate and expand his empire on the eastern front, and westward into Europe and the Mediterranean.5 The Ottoman sultan capitalised on European disunity and actively intervened through diplomatic means to ensure a united Europe remained unattainable.6 Curtailing Habsburg aggression was clearly a priority for both Francis I and Suleiman. The French king’s humiliating defeat and imprisonment by Emperor Charles V at the Battle of Pavia in 1525 has been viewed as the impetus for the French request for Ottoman aid to counter Habsburg aggression

3 John M. Rogers, M. Ward, Suleyman the Magnificent, London: British Museum Publications, 1988, p. 1. 4 Rogers 1988 (as fn. 3), p. 1. 5 Giles Veinstein, The Great Turk and Europe, in: John Tolan, Gilles Veinstein, Henry Laurens, (eds.), Europe and the Islamic World. A History, Princeton-Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2013, p. 138; for an account of Suleiman’s European territorial conquests, see pp. 138–142. 6 Rogers 1988 (as fn.  3), p.  1; The Ottoman capture of Belgrade in 1521, provided a strategically important base from which subsequent military missions into Europe were launched.



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in Europe.7 An enduring alliance between France and the Ottoman Empire was confirmed covertly by Suleiman in 1526, and later ratified in 1536.8 The cross-cultural alliance has been deemed significant as the first of its type between a major western Christian state and the Ottoman Empire.9 Relationships based on trade, political expediency and/or diplomacy had previously been formed between various Christian states and the Muslim Ottoman Turks, however the distinguishing feature of the Franco-Ottoman alliance was the associated military collaboration between the culturally diverse powers that defied previously non-negotiable religious boundaries.10 Notwithstanding a gradual increase in Ottoman involvement in European geo-politics from the latter decades of the fifteenth century, the collaborative relationship between Francis I and Suleiman would have been considered controversial when taking into account the long history of animosity based on cultural proclivities that characterised the relationship between the Frankish kingdom and Muslim states, and Francis I’s predestined role as crusader king.11 Despite a history of trade relations with Muslim states and diplomatic interactions with the Ottoman Empire between 1482 and 1495 concerning the Ottoman Sultan Cem, and aside from fierce contests with the Ottomans during the late fifteenth century over perceived hereditary claims to territory in Italy, the Franks had historically promoted and upheld an avowed enmity to Muslims relative to a belief in the

7 Halil Inalcik, The Ottoman Empire. The Classical Age 1300–1600. London: Phoenix, 2000, pp. 35; Roger Bigelow Merriman, Archibald Cary Coolidge, Suleiman the Magnificent. 1520–1566, New York: Cooper Square Publishers, 1966, p.  128; André, Clot. Suleiman the Magnificent. Matthew J. Reisz (trans.), London: Saqi, 2012, p. 130. Contemporaneous sources reveal that following the murder of a previous French envoy on route to the Porte, envoy John Frangipani successfully delivered verbal messages and two letters to the Porte in December 1525 requesting the Sultan’s aid against Charles V. The letters are believed to have been written respectively by Francis I’s mother Louise of Savoy who was regent during his captivity in Madrid, and the king himself, see Jon Ursu, La Politique orientale de François Ier, 1515–1547, Paris 1908, pp. 31–35 notes, in Merriman 1966 (as fn. 7), p. 129. The written requests have not been found, however Suleiman’s reply is extant, having left the Porte 8 February, 1526 with Frangipani. See English translation in Merriman 1966 (as fn. 7), pp. 129–131; Clot 2012 (as fn. 7), pp. 131–132. 8 Clarence Dana Rouillard, The Turk in French History, Thought, and Literature (1520–1660), Paris: Boivin & cie, 1938, pp. 106, 112. 9 Robert A. Kann, A History of the Habsburg Empire, 1526–1918, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974, p. 62; Rouillard 1938 (as fn. 8), p. 8. 10 Kann 1974 (as fn. 9), p. 62. 11 For a detailed account of the shifting diplomatic relationships that France and various Italian states conducted with the Ottoman Empire during the later part of the fifteenth century and the sixteenth century see, Christine Isom-Verhaaren, Allies with the Infidel, The Ottoman and French Alliance in the Sixteenth Century, London: I. B. Tauris & Co Ltd, 2011, pp. 1–23. The argument for France’s leading role in the fight against Islam based on tradition and history can be found in, Merriman 1966 (as fn. 7), pp. 126–127.





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exclusivity of the Frankish relationship with Christianity.12 The bilateral relationship that developed and evolved between Christianity and the Frankish kingdom began in the fifth century with Christian convert Clovis (c. 466–511) who was the first Frankish leader to convert to Christianity and largely unite the disparate Frankish tribes under one ruler.13 It was believed that Clovis’ military success was actioned by God and by the Middle Ages he had attained saint-like status for his personal sacrifice and devotion to fulfilling God’s plan for a Frankish people united in Christianity.14 As a sign of his approval, God bestowed upon Clovis the Holy Ampulla, the Oriflamme, a new blue standard embellished with three gold fleur-de-lis, the latter of which became one of the most sacred emblems of Christian France. In addition, the gift of healing the tuberculosis skin condition of scrofula was considered divinely bestowed.15 In 1270 King Louis IX (1214–1270), pious leader of two crusades against the Muslims, was canonised, further exemplifying the sacrosanct nature of French kings. From around 1300 propaganda ensured saintliness came to be viewed as an innate quality that was transferred exclusively through the French royal bloodline.16 In addition, concomitant traditions including the blessing of the royal and episcopal ring and the wearing of gloves following the unction of the hands were a feature of both the consecration of a French bishop and the coronation of a French king, which emphasised the divine character of the latter. Further to this, a French king’s status as a knight in God’s service and his ability to perform miracles were also considered divinely conferred.17 Through carefully constructed narratives and traditions, the notion of an exclusive relationship between France and its kings, and the Christian God and Church was established and maintained. The perceived Christian divinity of French kings was further reinforced with a tradition commenced in the Middle Ages when the popes began to bestow the epithet, ‘Most Christian King’ upon their favourites, and the kings of France were common recipients of the appellation during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.18 Philip the

12 Having been defeated by his brother Bayezid in the contest for the Ottoman sultanate following the death of their father Sultan Memhed the Conqueror in 1481, Cem eventually escaped to Europe. At a financial cost to Beyezid, Cem was held prisoner in Europe where the pope, and French kings, Louis XI and Charles VIII, used him as a political pawn in relation to crusade plans and territorial contests in Italy. He died Naples in 1495 under the guard of Charles VIII’s army. For a detailed account of the case of Sultan Cem, see Isom-Verhaaren 2011 (as fn. 10), pp. 82–113. 13 John Moorhead, The Roman Empire Divided, 400–700, Harlow, England; New York: Longman, 2001, pp. 73–76. 14 Gregory of Tours. History of the Franks. Ernest Brehaut (trans.), New York: Norton, 1969, 2:30–32. 15 Anne-Marie Lecoq, François Ier Imaginaire, Symbolique Et Politique À L’aube De La Renaissance Française, Paris: Macula, 1987, pp. 199–201, in Robert J. Knecht, Renaissance Warrior and Patron, The Reign of Francis I, Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1994, p. 89. 16 Knecht 1994, ibid., pp. 88–90. 17 Lecoq 1987 (as fn. 15), pp. 190–193, in ibid., p. 90. 18 Knecht 1994 (as fn. 15), p. 88.



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Bold (1268–1314) was the first to be addressed by the people in this way and prudently made use of the epithet to secure the independence of French kings and extricate France from the jurisdiction of both the emperor and the pope, ultimately conveying that France was accountable to none other but God as “the principal and most venerable part of Christendom”.19 However, by the late fourteenth century the epithet of ‘most Christian’ was considered exclusively the ancient right of French Kings and royal propaganda played an integral role in promoting and maintaining the exclusive relationship between Christianity and France’s rulers as exemplified in the painting under examination. From around the fourteenth century it was claimed that France and the French kings had God’s favour above all others, equating France with Israel, and the French people with the descendants of King David.20 Even the unique constitution of the royal French blood, which it was claimed differed from regular blood due to its transparency and luminosity, was believed to transmit the essence of Christianity down through the royal linage.21 However, regardless of the fact that Francis I was the cousin of his predecessor Louis XII, his physical and moral attributes and the seemingly miraculous events he experienced throughout life were deemed by learned men to be signs that God had destined him to rule Christian France.22 As a French king, Francis I bore the title ‘Most Christian King’ and the oath he made at his coronation provides an example of his expected role as defender of the faith in France, “I promise to all of you (the bishops) and grant that to each of you and to the churches entrusted to you I shall protect the canonical privilege, due law, and justice, and I shall exercise defense of each bishop and of each church committed to him, as much as I am able—with God’s help—just as a king ought properly to do in his kingdom.”23 Historically, propaganda had ensured French kings and the territories they ruled were perceived as favoured by God and accordingly, French rulers were staunch defenders of the true faith, most specifically in relation to Islam.24 Frankish anti-Muslim sentiment was expressed and subsequently propagated from as early as 732 CE at the Battle of Tours where the French, under the leadership of Charles Martel, routed the Muslim Arabs and Berbers at the border between Spain and Christian Europe.25 In the centuries that followed, France played a prominent role

19 Ibid., p. 88. 20 Ibid., p. 88; Colette Beaune, Fredric L. Cheyette, The Birth of an Ideology, Myths and Symbols of Nation in Late-Medieval France, Berkeley; Oxford: University of California Press, 1991, pp. 172–181. 21 Knecht 1994 (as fn. 15), p. 89. 22 Ibid., p. 89. 23 R. A. Jackson, Vive le Roi! A History of the French Coronation from Charles V to Charles X, Chapel Hill: NC, 1984, pp. 57–59, p. 90. 24 Knecht 1994 (as fn. 15), p. 88. 25 William E. Watson, Tricolor and crescent, France and the Islamic World, Westport CT, London: Praeger, 2003, pp. 2–3.





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in the crusades against Islam. The Holy Land had become a contested space by the eleventh century as the Muslim Seljuk Turks gained control of Jerusalem and banned Christian entry to the holy sites. This development was significant as the city had been an important destination for Christian pilgrims since the sixth century. Spurred on by pleas for support against the Muslims from the Byzantine Emperor Alexius Comnenus at the Council of Clermont in France in 1095, Pope Urban II called for a pilgrimage, later to be known as the First Crusade, to regain the Holy Land for Christendom.26 The French preacher Bernard of Clairvaux initiated the Second Crusade in which the French king Louis VII participated, as did King Phillip II, in the third attempt to return the Holy Land to Christian control. France again took a major role in the fourth crusade that redirected its aim en route to the sacking of Constantinople. In the thirteenth century the seventh and eighth crusades were driven by the French king, Louis IX. Furthermore, France’s crusader ideology was overtly apparent in the activities of the French crusading orders, the Knights Templar and the Knights of Saint John, who played an integral role in halting the westward advance of the Muslims.27 Francis I’s immediate predecessors also adhered to anti-Muslim policy as apparent in Charles VIII’s plans to take Constantinople following his conquest of Naples and Louis XII’s promotion of Holy War.28 Early in his reign Francis I himself had expected to become Holy Roman Emperor ahead of his rival Charles V, and it was his intension to continue the French tradition.29 When Francis I departed Bologna in December 1515, having secured The Concordat, the pope gifted the French king an expensive cross-shaped relic housing a fragment of the true cross as a reminder of his destiny.30 Francis I’s association with the Roman emperor Constantine’s defeat of the pagan Maxentius was invoked through an inscription on the cross, “in hoc signo vinces (you will vanquish by this sign)”.31 On the eve of the battle, Constantine claimed to have had a vision in which the motto appeared on a cross with three nails. This motto was also replicated on two seals made for the Concordat.32 Thus Francis I’s destiny to uphold the crusading zeal of his predecessors looked certain. During the years 1517 and 1518 preparations were made for Holy War.33 Crusade was preached in Rome while Pope Leo X granted France absolution. Francis I appointed a crusade commissioner who was based in the diocese of Toulouse and monetary

26 Margaret Deanesly, A History of the Medieval Church, 590–1500, London: Methuen, 1972, pp. 106– 107. 27 Merriman 1966 (as fn. 7), p. 127. 28 Ibid., p. 127. 29 Ibid., pp. 36–37. 30 Knecht 1994 (as fn. 15), p. 103. The Concordat was approved by Pope Leo X on 18 August 1516. 31 Ibid., p. 103. 32 Ibid., p. 103. 33 Ibid., p. 103.



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collections were taken. Contemporaries espoused the king’s role as defender of the faith as exemplified in the dedication in volume two of Jean Thenaud’s Triumphe de Vertuz, which proclaims, “Francis I, the very great, the very good King of France, future Emperor and destroyer of the Turkish empire, invincible.”34 Francis I’s destiny to lead a crusade against the Ottoman Turks was additionally promoted through the dissemination of the second Charlemagne prophecy. The prophecy appeared in the influential fourteenth-century exegete compiled by the hermit Telephorus of Cosenza and it proved politically and religiously expedient for the early sixteenth-century French court.35 It was originally conceived for the French king Charles VI (1368–1422) upon his accession in 1380, and told of a French king named Charles who would experience a miraculous rise to global power.36 In the thirty-first year of his reign he would place the Pope on the throne in Jerusalem and thus succeed in creating a universal Christianity.37 A French edition of Telephorus’ exegete was first published in Venice in 1516 and in 1522 an edition titled Mirabilis libre was published in Paris, which asserted that the Last World Emperor would be French.38 Following the Battle of Pavia in 1525 an amended French edition appeared that included predictions that a French King would lead a successful crusade to the Holy Land in 1527.39 A change in France’s relationship with the papacy early in Francis I’s reign also intensified expectations that the king would launch a crusade against the Turkish infidel. Until Francis I’s reign, there had been a mutually supportive relationship between the French church and state, whereby the king had authority and the ability to intervene in capitular elections, diocesan and prelate assemblies, whilst maintaining the privileges of the church. However, the history of the papacy’s role in French affairs was not as certain, and on occasion, France had suspended allegiance to Rome regarding disputes over politico-religious and fiscal matters.40 Following a disagreement about the appointment of the pope in the fourteenth century, the Pragmatic Sanction of Bruges was enacted and re-confirmed in 1438. The royal edict severely restricted papal involvement in the French Church by way of influencing appointments to benefices, collecting annates and implementing church reforms. The General Church Council of France was recognised as having greater authority than the pope,

34 Ibid., p. 104. 35 Michael J. Heath, Crusading Commonplaces, La Noue, Lucinge and Rhetoric against the Turks, Geneve: Librairie Droz, 1986, p. 51; Nancy Bisaha, Creating East and West, Renaissance Humanists and the Ottoman Turks, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004, pp. 39–40. 36 Bernard McGinn, “Apocalypticism and Church Reform,” in: Bernard McGinn, John J. Collins, and Stephen J. Stein (eds.), The Continuum History of Apocalypticism, New York: Continuum, 2003, p. 292. 37 Heath 1986 (as fn. 35), p. 51. 38 Ibid. p. 52. 39 Ibid. pp. 51–52. 40 Knecht 1994 (as fn. 15), p. 90.





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a fact that was central to what is known as Gallicianism. The edict was reverted and again reinforced in the fifteenth and early sixteenth century according to the political aims of various French kings. Whilst there was strong support amongst the French to limit papal interference in the French church, Gallicianism was ardently backed by France’s principle law court, the Parliament of Paris, and resulted in corruption surrounding appointments to bishoprics and abbeys that were often attained through bribes or force at the king’s directive.41 Internalising the affairs of church and state left France vulnerable to external developments and furthermore, Francis I’s desire to set in motion his plans to reconquer French dynastic territories in Italy, namely Milan and Naples, required papal co-operation to enable French passage south of the Alps. With great resistance from the General Church Council and the Parliament of Paris, Francis I had the Pragmatic Sanction revoked and in 1518 with the approval of Pope Leo X, The Concordat was eventually passed.42 The resulting outcome returned authority to the Holy See and enhanced Francis I’s authority by “legalising and extending the scope of his ecclesiastic patronage”.43 The episcopate continued to be dominated by the nobility, and especially the nobility of the sword from whose ranks came the close friends and advisors of the king. The Concordat thus provided Francis I with internal and external security for the early years of his reign.44 France’s revised relationship with the Holy See served to intensify expectations that the very Christian King Francis I would initiate a Holy War against the Turkish infidel in accordance with traditional crusader ideologies that had an enduring history in the Frankish kingdom. However, despite the crusader rhetoric and the preparations made early in Francis I’s reign, changes in the political and religious climate in Europe made crusade untenable. It has been argued that political expediency ultimately trumped long held religious concerns, which is apparent in the ‘Most Christian King’ Francis I’s decision to enter into a covert relationship with the Muslim Ottoman sultan, Suleiman.45

41 Ibid., pp. 92–93. 42 Ibid., pp. 93–94. 43 Ibid., pp. 90–103. 44 Ibid., p. 102. 45 Ibid., p. 104. However despite the rhetoric, and preparations made for crusade early in his reign, Francis I’s commitment to the cause has been questioned and ulterior motivations put forward for his apparent enthusiasm that include his need for revenue and improving his chances of becoming Emperor.



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Saint John the Baptist preaching in the presence of Francis I When considering the paradox of the covert, cross-cultural, political relationship and France’s precarious geo-political position within Europe, the French court’s need to simultaneously legitimise Franco-Ottoman collaboration whilst preserving the Christian narratives that justified and underpinned the integrity and destiny of the kings of France is evident in the painting, Saint John the Baptist Preaching in the Presence of Francis I. The decision to depict Francis I with the most revered of the evangelizing saints as he preached to non-Christian peoples from geographical regions recently conquered by the Ottoman Empire can be viewed as a politically astute move by the patron and/or artist, especially when taking the contemporary historical milieu and the formation of the alliance into account. Saint John was a cousin of Christ and an evangelist preacher who counselled repentance in preparation for the coming of the Messiah and his Kingdom (Luke 3:3–18). He was hailed as a prophet, baptiser, and intercessor, and his distinguishing characteristics included his proclamation by God and recognition by Jesus, his lineage and exemplary purity, his piety, the manner in which he preached “fervently, efficaciously and judiciously” to effect many conversions, his prophetic ability in recognizing the Messiah, and his “glorious” martyrdom for the sake of justice.46 These qualities clearly aligned with those characteristics deemed essential in the ‘most Christian king’; qualities that required reinforcement in view of the recently established political collaboration between the French king and the Muslim sultan. The symbolism associated with Saint John is integral to the political and diplomatic agency of the painting and importantly, the popularity of the hagiographical Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine would have ensured that the contemporary audience was familiar with the details of the Saint’s life.47 The following analysis of the painting demonstrates the way in which the carefully chosen subject, themes and associated symbolism featured in the work of art, functioned as propaganda intended to negotiate and condone the contentious cross-cultural relationship for the intended audience, and thus ensure the future security of France and the Valois dynasty. The principal narrative of the painting, expressed in the title of the work, features vibrant primary colours and comprises the foreground scene of the painting, which spans the width of the picture plane. Here, the symbolic figure of Saint John is situated prominently on the left side of the picture and portrayed characteristically

46 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, (C.1260), William Granger Ryan (trans.), Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993, vol. 1, pp. 332–334. 47 William Granger Ryan, “Introduction,” in The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, (C.1260), Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993, p. viii. The Golden Legend was as popular as the Bible in the high Middle Ages.





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wearing a camel-hide beneath a toga-like wrap.  In the foreground by his side, the Lamb of God stands turned from the viewer and symbolises Jesus.48 The Saint’s attributes often include a sizeable crucifix that is symbolically represented in the picture by a large vertical tree trunk with a leafy canopy that spreads horizontally at the upper border. As Saint John steps forward to the right, with his arm raised he points his index finger to a location beyond the margin of the picture plane. Often portrayed with his index finger pointing prophetically to the Lamb of God or the word of God as the path to salvation, the unknowable location to which Saint John points, also commands his steadfast gaze. Following the horizontal line created by the Saint’s raised arm and pointed finger, the viewer’s eye passes across the picture plane to pause on a centrally located turbaned figure standing amongst a gathering of people, before it is arrested by the reciprocal gaze of the French king Francis I who is positioned by the picture margin on the right. The King is depicted wearing his characteristic black torque with white feather and he holds a baton in his left hand. The Saint appears to point in the direction of Francis I, and thus metaphorically imbues the King with the prophetically proclaimed role of saviour of mankind; a role which as mentioned, is normally reserved for the Lamb of God/Jesus. Largely obscuring the form of the King, the audience is confronted with the posterior view of an Imperial soldier who is identified by his red and gold military cloak.49 Duplicating the Saint’s attributes, the soldier points his right index finger concurrently to the King and to the unknowable vision that draws his gaze beyond the picture plane. This action further serves to conflate the King with the Saviour. The inclusive, amicable representation of the Spanish-Habsburg Empire in the form of the Imperial soldier standing before the French King, gives the impression of unity between the rival powers following the ratification of the Treaty of Madrid in 1526 that sealed Francis I’s conditional release from imprisonment in Madrid.50 However, in the broader theme of the picture the Imperial presence paradoxically comments on the rivalry between the Valois and Habsburg powers and asserts Francis’ authority relative to his prophesised spiritual destiny as leader of a universal Christian monarchy. The intense, direct gaze of the King confirms the viewer as witness at the scene of the conversion of the non-Christian, multi-cultural members of the group, and moreover, Francis I’s commitment to the Roman Church, despite his newfound international relations with Christendom’s traditional enemy. Portrayed centrally in the foreground of the lower register, several women and children are seated before the Saint by the base of the crucifix-like tree. The most prominent is a woman of genteel appearance in contemporary costume who cradles

48 John refers to Jesus as the “Lamb of God” in, John 1:29 and John 1:36. 49 Mansfield, 2016 (as fn. 2.), p. 4. 50 Robert J. Knecht, The Rise and Fall of Renaissance France, 1483–1610, London: Fontana Press, 1996, p. 125.



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a swaddled infant in her left arm and placates a small child seeking attention to her right. Clearly analogous with the Holy Mother, it has been proposed that the small grouping may be a retrospective image of the King’s mother, Louise of Savoy with the young Francis and his sister Marguerite.51 Alternately, it has been suggested that the portrayal functions as memorial to the King’s first Queen-consort and mother of his seven children, Queen Claude who died in 1524.52 Peering from behind the motherly figure, the head of a young woman in an elaborate turban can be seen. She fixes her leftward gaze on the Lamb of God. Her headwear references the distinctive Mamluk turban with its ellipsoidal shape, fullness of height and vertical pleats.53 Prior to the 1517 Ottoman conquest of the North African lands ruled by the Islamic Mamluks, the French had diplomatic and trade ties at the Mamluk controlled ports along the North African coast.54 Thus, the French would have been familiar with this distinctive style of headwear. The inclusion of the Mamluk inspired headwear can be viewed as making reference to the mutually beneficial, cross-cultural co-operation between Christian France and the once powerful Mamluk state. It also signifies a cross-cultural symbiosis, and serves to forecast the mutual benefits of the newly formed cross-cultural alliance with the Muslim Ottomans, as Mamluk successors. In the mid-ground a third woman is visible between the Saint and the left side of the tree. She faces the central gathering, however she acknowledges the viewer’s presence with a reciprocal gaze. The influence of the East is also evident in the fashionable, turban-style roundlet she wears; nevertheless a symbolic cross in the patterning of the fabric is clearly visible on the upper right side of her headwear and serves to reinforce her cultural allegiance. Although the European Christian women do not focus upon the preaching Saint, they appear to be engaged in spiritual contemplations. Conversely, the non-Christian men gathered in the centre mid-ground behind the seated women, give their undivided attention to the prophet and baptiser. The group of men mostly wears styles of headwear that would have identified them to contemporary viewers as inhabitants of eastern and North African lands under the relatively recent rule of the Ottoman Turks. A few are depicted wearing turbans, including the most prominently located figure who wears a turban with a centrally located jewel and trailing end-piece. Whilst the turban was the ubiquitous headwear of the inhabitants of Central Asian, Middle-eastern and North African lands, the jewel and trailing end-piece are stylistic features of the turbans that migrated to Egypt with the Abbasid

51 Mansfield, 2016 (as fn. 2), p. 4. 52 Mansfield, 2016 (as fn. 2), pp. 3–4. 53 Julian Raby, Venice, Dürer, and the Oriental Mode, Totowa, N.J.: Islamic Art Publications, 1982, p. 35. 54 Charles A. Frazee, Catholics and Sultans, The Church and the Ottoman Empire, 1453–1923 London: Cambridge University Press, 1983, p. 27.





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caliphs of Bagdad, and continued to be worn at court well into the rule of their Mamluk (1250–1517) successors.55 The varied types of eastern-style headwear worn by members of the group, attests to the multicultural make-up of the Ottoman Empire. Behind the attentive crowd, in the distant landscape a town can be seen on the left bank of a river where a nearby bridge leads to a rocky outcrop on the opposite side. The “imagined” topography features the town of Cognac where the king was born, whilst the rocky outcrop signifies nearby Angoulême.56 Both towns are situated on the Charente River, Angoulême being the ancestral territory of the House of ValoisAngoulême. In the upper right corner of the picture, in the vicinity of the abstract Angoulême, an intimate gathering of indistinguishable figures is depicted on a path by the rocky protuberance. The vignette suggests that baptism is taking place and functions to reinforce Saint John’s ability to convert non-believers to the true faith. The distant path works compositionally to link the baptismal scene in the background to the portrait depiction of King Francis I in the foreground. It thus provides another visual metaphor that serves to present Francis I as intercessor, evangelist and converter of non-Christians. The subtle use of composition to link Christian supremacy with Valois authority in the framework of the global community is also evident in the broader configuration of the figures and topography as follows. The dominant Turkish figure forms a centrally located axis point on which the lines of a crucifix intersect. Consequently, Saint John and Francis I are linked horizontally, whilst vertically the analogous mother of God grouping in the lower foreground is linked to the topographical representations of Valois-Angoulême power and Heaven in the upper register. Thus the primacy of the turbaned Muslim figure, depicted with his right hand on his heart and his head bowed in reverence toward the Saint, as the point through which Valois and Christian authority connect, is fundamental to the purpose of the work in representing Francis I’s newfound alliance with the East, and moreover, his unconditional assurance to defend and extend Christianity despite the cross-cultural alliance. Furthermore, the use of the ‘gaze’ to promote and affirm the truth through the witnessing of an event is clearly evident in this work. John the Baptist’s prophetic ability enabled him to confirm the presence of the Messiah when he saw the Spirit descend upon Jesus. Thus both he and the Imperial soldier confirm Christianity as the true faith as they focus their gaze on the ‘Messiah’ beyond the picture plane. The Mother of God figure confirms her belief in the swaddled child—the metaphorical Jesus/ Francis—upon whom she gazes. Behind her, the young woman’s focus on the Lamb of

55 Joyce Kubiski, Orientalizing Costume in Early Fifteenth-Century French Manuscript Painting (Cité Des Dames Master, Limbourg Brothers, Boucicaut Master, and Bedford Master), in: Gesta 40,2 (2001), pp. 164–165; Oleg Grabar, Sheila Blair, Epic Images and Contemporary History. The Illustrations of the Great Mongol Shahnama, Chicago; London: University of Chicago Press, 1980, p. 149. 56 Mansfield, 2016 (as fn. 2.), p. 2.



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God promotes and affirms her belief in the redemptive powers of Christ. In turn, the Lamb of God/Jesus, uncharacteristically portrayed with its rear to the viewer, gazes toward the preaching Saint and thus confirms his divine status as prophet, preacher, baptiser and saint. The multicultural crowd of men transfix their respective gazes on Saint John as he preaches repentance, conveying a sense of their belief in the truth of his word. Importantly, the young woman by the tree and the King himself, respectively demand the viewer’s attention with a reciprocated gaze. This serves to validate the viewer as witness to a contemporary, historical moment in which Francis I and the Valois dynasty reaffirm their commitment to defend the true faith and as prophesised, reconquer the Holy Land for Christendom to achieving a universal Christian monarchy, regardless of the cross-cultural alliance.

Conclusion Saint John the Baptist preaching in the presence of Francis I is a profoundly symbolic work, characterised by vignettes and mini-narratives that combine to reflect an overriding homogeneity of disparate spiritual and temporal themes, over which the divinely sanctioned, ‘Most Christian King’ Francis I presides. Based on cultural ideologies deemed integral to French identity, the aesthetically constructed themes of universal monarchy, evangelical Christianity, conversion and cross-cultural relations define the work of art. Perhaps intended for the king’s private contemplation or that of his court, it is evident the painted image functioned to allay anxieties regarding Franco-Ottoman collaboration and concurrently condone the controversial policy, whilst reinforcing the imperial claims of Francis I and his dynasty in times of intense political rivalry and shifting allegiances.



Iris Haist

A Catholic Crown made of Marble and Paper The Funeral Monuments for Maria Clementina Sobieska and James III as an Instrument of Representation of the Catholic Church Every new papal conclave brings with it uncertainties, hopes and fears. With each new pope the cards in politics are reshuffled, finances and goals are recalculated and alliances are formed, maintained or abandoned. Each incoming pope institutes new religious rules, and new discussions and decisions about political alliances. The most visible expression of this reorganization has always been the large number of buildings and artworks commissioned during the different pontificates. While sovereigns of hereditary monarchies often rule for decades, popes are elected late in life and hold the papacy sometimes for just a few years. Consequently, kings and queens often had to deal with more than one pontiff during their reign. James Francis Edward Stuart (1688–1766), known as the Old Pretender by his Jacobite followers who glorified him as King James III of England and James IV of Scotland, outlasted no less than eight popes, and three more papacies would elapse before the erection of his, and his two sons’ funeral monument in St. Peter’s Basilica. A funeral monument built for Maria Clementina Sobieska (1702–1735), his wife and titular queen consort, also had a rather long and erratic progression until it’s public unveiling on the 30th January 1745. In the following article, we will analyse the representativeness of the four Stuart tomb monuments planned for and erected in the Vatican in Rome and in the church of SS. Apostoli, and look at the intermittent history of their planning and construction.1

The Stuart court in exile In 1718 Pope Clement XI Albani welcomed James Francis Edward Stuart, the son of James II of England and his second wife, the Catholic Italian princess Mary of Modena, in Rome. He had to leave France after the failure of the Jacobite Rising in 1715 and the death of Louis XIV the same year, who had provided a generous exile to James II and his son. Like his mother, the Pretender was a devout Catholic, and the pope recognized him as King James III, the rightful heir to the English throne, and

1 An overview of the Sobieski monuments in Rome has lately been given by Jennifer Montagu, The Sobieskis in Marble, in: Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Zuzanna Flisowska, Paweł Migasiewicz (eds.), I Sobieski a Roma. La famiglia reale polacca nella Città Eterna, Varsavia:  Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana III w Wiłanwie, 2018, pp. 312–326.

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who like his father, James II, was forced to live in exile. In his time, James III had been popular. He was widely respected by several popes, by the monarchy of Spain and by the Kingdom of Naples, who considered him to be the legitimate King of England, Ireland and Scotland, a status he retained throughout his life. They all hoped for a return of the Jacobites, and clung to the belief that a Catholic ruler would be put back on the British throne.2 A year after his arrival in Rome he married Maria Clementina Sobieska, daughter of the Polish Crown Prince Jakub Ludwik Sobieski (1667–1737).3 Agostino Masucci (c. 1691–1758) illustrated this event in his painting The Solemnization of the Marriage of James III and Maria Clementina Sobieska later in 1735.4 From this marriage two sons were born: Charles Edward (1720–1788) and Henry Benedict (1725–1807). The family of the bride was profoundly Catholic, like all of Poland, which helps explain the support she would receive from the Vatican. Pope Clement XI gave the couple the Palazzo Muti (now Palazzo Balestra), known at the time as Palazzo del Re, to use as the headquarters for the English royal court in exile.5 For the maintenance of the court and for the payments of royal attendants and servants they received an annual pension from the papal treasury of a minimum of ten thousand scudi in quarterly instalments, along with monetary contributions and gifts on special occasions and festivals.6 In the Eternal City, Maria Clementina and James Francis Edward were recognised as the legitimate queen consort and king of England, Ireland and Scotland.7 This situation would only change for their sons Charles Edward and Henry Benedict after the death of James III in 1766.

Maria Clementina Sobieska: life, and funeral monuments Only three women have ever been honoured with a funeral monument in St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican: Matilda of Tuscany, Christina of Sweden and Maria Clementina

2 Edward Corp, The Stuarts in Italy 1719–1766—A Royal Court in Permanent Exile, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013, p. 18. More about the Palazzo del Re see ibid., pp. 2–3. 3 Stanley S. Sokol, Sobieska, Maria Clementina, in: Stanley S. Sokol (ed.), The Polish Biographical Dictionary: Profiles of nearly 900 Poles who have made lasting contributions to world civilization, Wauconda: Bolchazy-Carducci Publishers, 1992, p. 150. 4 Oil on canvas, Edinburgh, Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Inv. PG 2415. 5 Corp 2013 (as fn. 2), p. 18. More about the Palazzo del Re see ibid., pp. 36–58. 6 Ibid., p. 18. However, the sum varied from pope to pope and also within a pontificate depending on personal or political circumstances. 7 For the recognition of the exile court as a legitimate representative of the English royal crown see ibid.





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Sobieska.8 Despite being the least known of the three, the last was honoured with the biggest and most sumptuous monument. Why did a woman who never reigned and who lived in exile in Rome, was supported and subsidised by Popes and Cardinals, get a funeral monument at least as big as the one of the great Matilda of Tuscany? The Catholic Church experienced its golden age of the arts in the High Baroque of the 17th century Rome of Gian Lorenzo Bernini. But its power began to wane over the course of the 18th century with the spread of secularisation, the financial problems of the popes, and some of their bad political affairs. The Catholic Church desperately needed good publicity—and what could be more impressive than a young, beautiful and ardently devout princess who left her homeland out of love for an exiled Catholic king? Maria Clementina Sobieska always had a great zeal for the Catholic faith. After giving birth to her second child, she left her husband and went to live for two years in the convent of S. Cecilia in Rome. Her main condition for returning was the dismissal of the Protestant governor and educator of the couple’s eldest son, James Murray, Earl of Dunbar (c. 1690–1770).9 On this point Pope Benedict XIII stood entirely behind the queen, who in his opinion was faithful to the Roman Catholic Church and saw it as her duty to provide an unconditional Catholic education to their children. This view was “[…] clearly shared by the majority of people in Rome and in the Catholic courts of Europe […], who felt that James should comply with her terms.”10 In 1727, James III acquiesced to some of her demands, and she returned to her family.11 However, Maria Clementina continued to dedicate much of her time to prayer and often forgot to eat and sleep; she spent her days helping the poor and needy, and paid little heed to her own health. Her behaviour was comparable to that of a nun and benefactress of the poor and sick, and caused people to increasingly regard her as a saint. The author and historian Francesco Valesio echoed this opinion in his Diario di Roma and on 11 January of 1735 when he referred to her as a “princess of a most holy and exemplary life”.12 Her physical and mental health gradually deteriorated, and she finally died on 18 January of 1735 at the age of 33. It was therefore appropriate that for the short funeral procession from the Palazzo del Re, along the Via del Corso,

8 Charlotte of Lusignan-Savoyen (1444–1487), queen of Cyprus was also entombed in Old St. Peter. Her body lies now in the grotte vaticane. 9 Corp 2013 (as fn. 2), p. 28; for Maria Clementina’s problems see Aleksandra Skrzypietz, Marital Crisis between Maria Clementina née Sobieska and James Stuart in the Light of her Correspondence with her Father, in: Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Zuzanna Flisowska, Paweł Migasiewicz (eds.), I Sobieski a Roma. La famiglia reale polacca nella Città Eterna, Varsavia: Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana III w Wiłanwie, 2018, pp. 362–377. 10 Ibid., p. 29. 11 Ibid., pp. 27–29. 12 Francesco Valesio, Diario di Roma, Rome: Longanesi, varie dat., 11/17/1735, p. 751: “principessa d’ una vita santissima ed esemplare”.



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to SS. Apostoli the day after her death, she was dressed in a habit of the Dominican nuns, a religious order she admired.13 Her body lay in state in this church before her funeral in S. Peter’s because it was near her home in the Palazzo del Re.14 A woman, and a life of suffering, was perfect propagandistic material for the Church. Shortly after her death, Pope Clement XII Corsini began to put in motion the beatification process of Maria Clementina Sobieska as a vehicle to enhance the image of the Church and bolster its diminishing power. The first step was to entomb her remains in one of the most holy places in Rome: the crypt of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. She received a state funeral with full royal honours, which various artists immortalised for posterity.15 In addition to this, there were obsequies and masses held in several churches in Rome and in Fano.16 In 1737 Filippo della Valle was commissioned by the convent of SS. Apostoli, sponsored by Pope Clement XII, to design and build a beautiful, but small-scale monument for Maria Clementina Sobieska in the church of SS. Apostoli, near the Palazzo del Re—a memorial for the Queen’s internal organs, an absolutely uncommon feature for Rome (fig. 1).17 With this plan the pope ignored the recommendation of Cardinal Annibale Albani, camerlengo and archpriest of the Basilica Vaticana, given in 1735 and recorded in the Parentalia for Maria Clementina one year later, to erect a funeral monument for Maria Clementina Sobieska in St. Peter’s Cathedral because she had

13 Chracas: Diario ordinario di Roma, Rome/Vienna: Stamperia Chracas, varie dat., 1/22/1735, no. 2727, p. 7; Parentalia Mariae Clementinae Magn. Britan. Franc., et Hibern. Regin. Jussu Clementis XII Pont. Max., Rome: Giovanni Maria Salvioni stampator vaticano, 1736, p. XVIII. Summary without the mention of Chraca’s report, but otherwise in great detail: Corp 2013 (as fn. 2), pp. 220–222. 14 Balthasar Gabbuggiani engraved the interior of this church as it appeared for Clementina’s funeral; a painting with the same scene is also preserved in the Museo di Roma. For the latter see Andrea Busiri Vici, Un Dipinto dei Funeri di Clementina Sobieska Stuart nel Museo di Palazzo Braschi, in: Bollettino dei Musei Communali di Roma 15 (1968), pp. 8–9. 15 For example an anonymous drawing in Berlin, Kunstbibliothek der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Inv. Hdz 535 or the etching Pompe Funebre of Princess Maria Klementyna Sobieska, Santi XII Apostoli, Rome, 1735, by Baldassare Gabbuggiani, 1736. The drawing in Berlin was published in Sabine Jacob, Italienische Zeichnungen der Kunstbibliothek Berlin: Architektur und Dekoration 16.–18. Jahrhundert, Berlin: Staatliche Museen Preußischer Kulturbesitz, 1975, n. 792, p. 156. 16 See all masses listed in Diane H. Bodart, Le sourire de Marie-Clémentine Sobieska, in: Renata Sulewska, Michał Wardzyński (eds.), Artyści włoscy w Polsce. XV–XVIII wiek, Warsaw: Wydawnictow DiG, 2004, p.  403; see also Alessandro Spila, Le esequie di Maria Clementina Sobieski dipinte da Giuseppe e Domenico Valeriani. Note sugli apparati effimeri ai Ss. Apostoli e il ruolo della famiglia Colonna nel Settecento, in: Bollettino dei Musei Communali di Roma 28 (2014), pp. 29–52. 17 Vernon Hyde Minor, Passive Tranquillity—The sculpture of Filippo della Valle, Philadelphia: Amer Philosophical Society, 1997, cat. 21, pp.  157–160; Lucia Simonato, Una nuova proposta per Filippo della Valle: il disegno preparatorio per il Monumento ai precordi di Maria Clementina Sobieska ai Santi dodici Apostoli, in: Nuovi studi 22, anno 21 (2016), pp. 111–117, 135–136; Montagu 2018 (as fn. 1).





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Fig. 1: Filippo della Valle, Monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska, 1735, SS. Apostoli, Rome.



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“the piety of Matilda and the greatness of soul of Christine of Sweden”.18 Why Clement  XII chose to ignore this suggestion at the beginning is not yet perfectly clarified but he may have planned a more modest monument, and therefore more befitting of a saint, to underline his plans for a canonization process. In the lower zone of the sculpture two putti holding a heart and a crown flank the urn-shaped sarcophagus, which has a large robe draped over it opening in front in a V, beneath a cloud with three putti heads. Although the monument in various marbles, stucco and porphyry has an inscription claiming that Queen Clementina’s heart is preserved in the second pillar from the right, in the church of SS. Apostoli— this organ was, in fact, kept in the private chapel of James III.19 On this first funeral monument for Maria Clementina Sobieska the following can be read in gilded letters: “Here rest the praecordia of Clementina, for the heart heavenly love did not allow to survive. To Maria Clementina, Queen of Great Britain, etc. the Friars Minor Conventual reverently placed this.”20 Several elements in the inscription create a personal, less formal tone—an indication that an important member of the denomination is being mourned here, not a distant reigning queen. For example, only her first name is used rather than her full name. The abbreviated annotation regarding her dominions: “Queen of Great Britain, etc.” also suggests that this is not about the veneration of a queen, but rather a commemoration of a friend and holy sister. An inscription in the convent of S. Cecilia refers to her as the Queen of Great Britain, but also alludes to her exemplary religious life—two aspects of her background that were excellent elements for representing the Church.21 In the last years of his papacy, Clement XII had second thoughts, and in 1739 he ordered another sculptural ensemble to be produced to commemorate Maria Clementina Sobieska—a huge royal monument in polychrome marble, with paintings, gilded carvings and rich mosaics, fulfilling now the wish of Annibale Albani. He also abandoned the canonization process. His successor, Pope Benedict XIV Lambertini, gave continuity to this sculptural project and hired, together with Cardinal Albani,

18 Parentalia Mariae Clementinae … 1736 (as fn.  13), pp.  XXVIII–XXX: “la pietà di Matilde, e la grandezza d’animo di Cristina di Svezia”, p. XXIX. 19 Corp 2013 (as fn. 2), p. 222. 20 HIC CLEMENTINÆ REMANENT PRAECORDIA: NAM COR / CÆLESTIS FECIT NE SVPERESSET AMOR / MARIÆ CLEMENTINÆ / MAGN ‧ BRITANN ‧ ET C ‧ REGINÆ / FRATRES MIN ‧ CONV / VENERABVNDI PP. 21 HOC IN SACELLO / M. CLEMENTINA SVBIESCHA / MAGNAE BRITANNIAE REGINA / AB ANNO MDCCXXV MENSIBVS XIX / DIEBVS XXIII / MANÉ; VESPERÉ; ALIISQVE HORIS ABINIÉ / QVOD VIXIT SEMEL SALTEM IN / HEBDOMADA ORARE CONSVEVIT, see digital resource of the Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana  III  w  Wilanowie, https://www.wilanow-palac.pl/sobiesciana/tablica_upamietniajaca_pobyt_ marii_klementyny_w_klasztorze_sw_cecylii_w_rzymie_sobiesciana.html#reload?name=tablica_ upamietniajaca_pobyt_marii_klementyny_w_klasztorze_sw_cecylii_w_rzymie_sobiesciana.html [accessed December 14, 2018].





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Fig. 2: Filippo Barigioni and Pietro Bracci, Monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska, 1742–1745, St. Peter’s Basilica.



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Filippo Barigioni, the architect of St. Peter’s Cathedral for the over-all design. Pietro Bracci was hired as the figurative sculptor, and would finish the monument in 1742 (fig. 2).22 Within the same year of the finishing Ottone Hamerani coined a medal with Pope Benedikt XIV on one side and with the entire funeral monument on the other side.23 Benedict XIV obviously felt there was no need to glorify another saint, but rather to exalt a strong Catholic queen. In 1745 the official inauguration of the monument was held in St. Peter’s with the translatio of Maria Clementina’s remains; they were moved into a sarcophagus made of black stone, placed in a shallow painted niche, in a spot in the spiral staircase immediately behind the new monument, that leads to the dome. The inscription on the colossal funeral monument in the basilica reads: “Maria Clementina, Queen of Great Britain, France and Ireland”—short but succinct.24 A copperplate engraving by Rocco Pozzi (c. 1700–1780) dated 1742, when the monument was finished, was distributed to high-ranking guests of the clergy and the nobility on the day of the public inauguration which took place on 30 January of 1745.25 After the official inauguration of the tomb, the Diario ordinario di Chracas reported on the impression the monument caused: Above the urn is a statue in white marble representing Amor divino, sustaining a flame in the left hand, and with the right hand, together with a putto in white marble, holding up a portrait of the said queen, a mosaic effigy with a frame of gold metal; [...], all with great perfection and good taste.26

The central female figure is a personification of Amor divino or Divine love, and is shown seated, her legs turned to the left, her head and her outstretched arm with the gilded metal flame in the open palm of her left hand. Her hair is elaborately styled and shown differentiated by deep holes and small chisel work. She is wearing a plain

22 For further information about the monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska by Pietro Bracci see Iris Haist, “Opere fatte di scultura di Pietro Bracci”—Skulptur im Kontext des römischen Settecento, PhD thesis, Bern: publication online, 2017, https://boris.unibe.ch/97590/8/15haist_i.pdf [accessed December 14, 2018], pp. 135–144 and cat. 25/26, pp. 283–288. 23 Harald Küthmann et  al. (ed.), Bauten Roms auf Münzen und Medaillen, München: Verlag Egon Beckenbauer, 1973, cat. 362, p. 226; Haist 2017 (as fn. 22), cat. 25/26.2, p. 286. 24 MARIA CLEMENTINA MAGNAE BRITANNIAE / FRANCIAE ET HIBERNIAE REGINA. 25 See Chracas varie dat. (as fn. 13), 1/30/1745, no. 4293, pp. 2–15. For further information see Bianca Maria Santese, Filippo Barigioni architetto romano, in: Bianca Maria Santese (ed.), Palazzo Testa Piccolomini alla Dataria, Rome: Grafica Editrice Romana, 1983, vol. 2, pp. 155–156, fig. 2; Haist 2017 (as fn. 22), cat. 25/26.1, pp. 285–286. 26 Chracas varie dat. (as fn. 13), 12/15/1742, no. 3960, pp. 6–8: “Sopra alla detta urna vi è una statua di marmo bianco rappresentante l’Amor Divino, che sostiene con la sinistra una fiamma, e con la destra, unitamente ad un’altro Putto di marmo bianco, sostiene il ritratto della sud[etta] regina, effigiato di mosaico con cornice di metallo dorato; [...] il tutto con ogni perfezzione e buon gusto.”





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Fig. 3: Girolamo Rossi the Younger after Domenico Maria Muratori, Portrait of Maria Clementina Sobieska, 1736, etching.



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flowing classical robe, and an expanded ornamental belt around her waist. In her right arm she holds an oval portrait of the deceased in fine micro mosaic, with hair gathered in the back, falling like a veil down over her left shoulder, and wearing the blue sash of the Order of the Garter. On the left is a putto, walking and holding the bottom of the portrait, with its head turned to look diagonally down at the church visitor, thus introducing the person standing on the church floor to the group of figures above. The form and iconography of this monument bear visible traces of both objectives of representation. For example, the sky depicted in the background mosaics, the veil covering the hair of the female statue, the fire of Divine love and the winged putti denote the earlier idea of portraying Maria Clementina Sobieska as a saint. Elements of the later plan to honour the deceased as a legitimate queen included the royal porphyry material used for the obelisk in the background, the formal state portrait with diadem and ermine coat made by the mosaicist Pietro Paolo Christofari after the cartoon of the painter Ludovico Stern,27 and the imperial insignia in the hands of the putti below the sarcophagus. It was quite extraordinary that for one person, be it a queen or a saint, two funerary monuments were built within a space of six years, in two important churches in Rome, and above all, that they remained permanent. Another peculiarity is the fundamental differences in her representation, on one hand portraying religious humility and on the other the grandeur of royalty. This discrepancy may be explained by the rapid succession of popes and their constantly changing strategy for the glorification of sacred institutions, be it the family, religious orders, or the entire Catholic Church—but also by Maria Clementina Sobieska’s personal vision of herself. While she liked to be painted as a young and beautiful princess or queen, with colorful and richly decorated clothes made of expensive materials, crown or diadem and jewels in the early years, like on her state portrait attributed to Domenico Duprà,28 after her stay in the monastery of S. Cecilia she preferred being shown as a penitent.29 This break in representation iconography led to a strange mixture of symbols in an etching by Girolamo De Rossi after Domenico Maria Muratori for an anniversary publication of Maria Clementina’s funeral in 1736 (fig. 3).30 In this illustration she’s wearing a rel-

27 Archivio della Fabbrica di San Pietro, Arm. 27, D. 412, 8/14/1740, f. 556: “scudi 40 a Ludovico Stern pittore per intiero p[rez]zo d’aver fatto il ritratto rappresentante la gloriosa me[moria] della regina sop[radett]a per ponersi à musaico.” 28 Copies can be found in the National Portrait Gallery, London, in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh or in the Galleria Pallavicini, Rome. See e.g. Bodart 2004 (as fn. 16), p. 310, fig. 2. 29 Copies can be found in the Museum of the Castle of Versailles and in Lennoxlove in Scotland. See e.g. ibid., p. 313, fig. 6. 30 Illustration for Philippo d’Azon, Parentalia in anniversario funebre Mariae Clementinae, Rome: Types Sacrae Congregationes de Propaganda Fide, 1736; for the image see https://www. britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details/collection_image_gallery. aspx?assetId=1527376001&objectId=3594563&partId=1 [accessed December 14, 2018].





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atively simple dress and a veil but with the royal ermine coat, and next to a wooden crucifix in her hand is royal crown in a prominent position. It’s not surprising that Valesio reports that Cardinal Giacomo Lanfredini took the portrait for the funeral monument away because he didn’t want her to be shown as a queen, but rather “in clothes of a penitent, like this holy princess really was”.31

The planning of the monument to commemorate James III Stuart James III died in 1766, 31 years after his wife. He had a full state funeral, followed by several other large-scale ceremonies in various churches in Rome, the decoration of which were executed by the famous architects Carlo Marchionni and Paolo Posi.32 It is therefore not surprising that shortly after these magnificent ceremonies Pope Clement XIII commissioned a grandiose monument for him. These plans were already concrete, as Rudolfo Venuti reported in his Rome Guide of 1766: […] in a pillar not far from the baptistery is the final resting place of the Queen of England Maria Clementina Sobieski Stuart, who died on 18 of January 1735 [...]. Taking this into consideration, a noble memorial soon will be erected to her husband James III, King of Great Britain, who died in Rome on the first day of this year, having already bought the site.33

It is not known if any model had been made at this point, either in wood or stucco. It is not entirely clear whether these drafts were intended to be entered in a public tender, or were a direct commission from James’ son Cardinal Henry Duke of York, as

31 Valesio varie dat. (as fn. 12), 2/19/1741, VI, p. 444: “in abito di penitente, come era veramente quella santa principessa”. 32 Chracas varie dat. (as fn. 13), 1/11/1766, no. 7572 (State funeral in S. Pietro in Vaticano, decoration by Marchionni); 1/18/1766, no. 7575 (Catafalque in SS. Apostoli, decoration by Posi); 1/25/1766, no. 7578 (Mourning ceremonies, decoration by Marchionni); 2/1/1766, no. 7581 (Mourning ceremonies in S. Lorenzo in Damaso); 2/8/1766, no. 7584 (Mourning ceremonies in S. Maria in Trastevere); see also Cathy C. Kelly, Ars moriendi  in  eighteenth-century Rome:  papal  and  princely catafalques; the contribution of Paolo Posi, in: Barbara Wish (ed.), “All the World’s a Stage”: Theatrical spectacle and spectacular theatre, University Park, Pa.: Department of Art History, 1990, pp. 580–619. 33 Ridolfino Venuti, Accurata, e succinta descrizione topografica e istorica di Roma moderna, Rome: Carlo Barbiellini al Corso, 1766, p. 477: “Nel pilastro poco lontano dal battisterio è situato il deposito della Regina d’Inghilterra Maria Clementina Sobiescki Stuarta, defunta ai 18 di gennajo 1735 [...]. Dirimpetto a questo farà in breve eretto un nobile deposito al Re della Gran Brettagna Giacomo III suo consorte, morto in Roma il primo giorno di quest’anno, essendo stato già fatto acquisto del sito.”



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suggested by Elisabeth Kieven and John Pinto,34 or by Pope Clement XIII himself. The last is more likely, because Bracci rarely participated in public tenders, even if they carried considerable prestige. Although Cardinal Henry could have been the patron and sponsor of this early project, in my opinion only Clement XIII had the capacity and the power to award the final commission. The pope also ordered the king’s entombment in St. Peter’s as passed on by Gioacchino and Giangiuseppe Salvoni.35 His funeral monument which should be erected on the wall in front of the Sobieska tomb was designed by the Roman sculptor Pietro Bracci.36 Each of four preserved presentation drawings was designed for a narrow bay in the side aisle in St. Peter’s Basilica across from his wife. They depict the king as a Roman general, in full classical armor, command staff, and full-length Baroque wig, high above the personifications. The great height of the wall chosen for the monument stands in marked contrast to the narrowness of the bay. With the standing figure of the exiled king, using the scheme of “honorary statues”,37 Bracci created an illusion of greatness that surpasses the sculptural ensemble. One of the above-mentioned drawings is preserved in the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal and shows an elevation of the monument in the upper area, while a cleanly constructed ground plan of the tomb is depicted below it.38 The narrow wall space for the monument is delimited by two Corinthian columns. A crowned female figure sits on a polygonal pedestal amidst flags and war paraphernalia, her right arm resting on a globe, while with the other she interacts with a sword-holding putto to her right, in front of a lion. The female figure represents imperial power, the putto with sword and the lion represent strength in the form of inner steadfastness and especially as military might. Above, one step behind, stands James III in a classical military uniform, holding a commander’s staff, on a rounded pedestal with an inscription. His free hand is casually pressed to his hip, while he holds his right arm obliquely forward as if issuing a command.

34 Elisabeth Kieven and John Pinto, Pietro Bracci and eighteenth-century Rome: drawings for architecture and sculpture in the Canadian Centre for Architecture and other collections, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001, cat. 52/53, p. 70. 35 Funerali di Giacomo III Re della Gran Bretagna celebrati per ordini di Nostro Signore Papa Clemente XIII L’anno MDCCLXVI, Rome: Gioacchino e Giangiuseppe Salvoni stampatori pontifici vaticani, 1766, p. 26. 36 For further information see Haist 2017 (as fn. 22), cat. 70, pp. 357–361; Elisabeth Kieven, Ein König in St. Peter – Pietro Braccis Entwürfe für ein Grabmal James’ III., in: Roland Kanz, Hans Körner (eds.), Pygmalions Aufklärung – europäische Skulptur im 18. Jahrhundert, Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2006; Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 52/53, 130/131, pp. 70–71, 220–221; Frank Martin, Projekte für ein Grabmal Clemens’ XI., in: Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 70 (2007), pp. 271–280. 37 Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 52, p. 70. 38 Montreal, Canadian Centre for Architecture, Inv. DR 1966:0001:018; see Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 52, pp. 70–71, color plate 8.





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Fig. 4: Pietro Bracci, Monument to James III, c. 1766, drawing.



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Another drawing, preserved in the Art Institute of Chicago, shows a different version with two figures flanking a sarcophagus with volutes and a military trophy on it.39 The left figure with a helmet and shield depicts Fortitudo, the right one with caput velatum depicts Religio. The sarcophagus bears a lion with flags and armor in front of it: a symbol of both internal and military strength. The second surviving drawing in the CCA for the tomb of James III is more elaborate (fig. 4).40 Two Corinthian columns border the wall space, separated above by a zone with a coat of arms, this time flanked by a griffin and a lion. The base is complemented by a round bulge at the front. On the base is a sarcophagus with an inscription on the front and a crown with sceptre as upper closure. On each side is a female virtue sitting on a volute, once again representing Fortitudo and Religio. Above this, a little further to the rear, rises an almost rectangular pedestal with another inscription, on which a statue of James III is standing. The figure’s posture and presentation are the same as in the previous drawing, only here the contour is more precise and the details more pronounced. The walls and dome of the apse-like niche in which this central statue is placed are covered with rich ornaments, which resemble gilded stucco on a white background. By leaving out the sarcophagus in his fourth drawing, now housed in the Musée des Beaux Arts in Montreal, Bracci changed the meaning of the figures: the aspect of death had given way to pure commemoration of life and deeds.41 On the pedestal zone on the right Fortitudo is wearing a breastplate and a helmet and holding a staff, sitting in front of a still life composition with flags and war paraphernalia. To her right lies a lion, while on the outside a putto is shown in step position with a sword and a helmet in his hands. Behind it there are again a shield and arrows and other weapons. Each of these elements represents war, victory or military strength. An almost identical statue of the exiled king is portrayed in all four designs standing on a pedestal, base, or sarcophagus. What changes in each design are the personifications in the lower area of the monument. If we look closely at the second drawing in the CCA we can see that Bracci obviously changed his mind for the design of this area and stuck a new piece of paper on it with a new idea for the sculptures mentioned above. Kieven and Pinto examined the drawing under this flap and reported that it contained an unidentified allegorical female figure, a putto and a lion, like in the drawing in the Musée des Beaux Arts in Montreal.42 The whole upper part of the sketch seems to have been completed after the first draft, but the allegorical zone

39 Chicago, Art Institute of Chicago, Inv. 1966:353; see Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn.  34), cat. 130, pp. 220–221. 40 Montreal, Canadian Centre for Architecture, Inv. DR 1966:0001:033; see Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 53, p. 71, color plate 9. 41 Montreal, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Inv. DR 1985.86; see Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 131, p. 221. 42 Kieven and Pinto 2001 (as fn. 34), cat. 53, p. 71.





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caused problems. Consequently, it was particularly difficult to reach an agreement on the form and iconography of the virtues that were to characterize the exiled king, and which would be comparable with the figure of Divine love. More than 20 years earlier, Bracci had produced drawings for a tomb that was supposed to decorate that exact wall; in 1743 there was already a well advanced plan for a tomb for Pope Clement XI Albani.43 He had used as orientation the structural design of the monument across from it: he set the top of the sarcophagus at the height of the top edge of the door opposite it, the horizontal division of the monument laid on the height of the gable attached to the door with the putti made by him. Then he conceived a statue base with approximately the same height as that of the sarcophagus in the Sobieska monument, with which the standing Pope and the opposing Amor divino were at the same height. The existence of these plans for the papal monument indicate that Pope Benedict XIV wasn’t thinking of the possibility of the two Stuart monuments facing each other in the St. Peter’s Basilica. The ambitious plans for the monument honouring James III unfortunately never came to fruition. In its place there is today a classical monument by Antonio Canova, which doesn’t really fit in this place and is a poor substitute for the former Bracci designs. Twice Bracci had found a suitable architectural solution for the problem of the long wall opposite the monument planned by Barigioni, both of which would have been a master work for St. Peter’s Basilica, (and a triumph for Bracci), but the plans were rejected for unknown reasons. One would be inclined to suppose that the plans were abandoned at the death of Pope Clement XIII in 1769. But the project probably actually lost its momentum before the end of 1766, when a congregation of ten cardinals voted against recognizing James’ son Charles as the rightful king. The pope must have given up hope for a Stuart restoration, and realized that he could no longer cling to the myth of reinstating a Catholic royal family in England in the near – or in any – future. The life and history of James III had lost its meaning as an instrument of representation of the Catholic Church.

The Stuart monument by Antonio Canova After another failed Jacobite rising under James III’s son Charles Edward in 1746, James’ III death and the dismissal of his older brother as rightful king supported by

43 Christie’s New York, Old Master & 19th Century Drawings, London, 1/22/2003, Lot. 44, pp. 58–59, fig. p. 59; today: Ashmolean Museum, Oxford; see Catherine Whistler, A New Artist for the Ashmolean, in: The Ashmolean 46, (2004), p. 9; Elisabeth Kieven, Papstgrabmäler in St. Peter. Pietro Bracci und das Problem der Serialität, in: Johannes Myssok, Jürgen Wiener (eds.), Docta Manus, Studien zur italienischen Skulptur für Joachim Poeschke, Münster: Rhema,  2007, pp.  367–373; Martin 2007 (as fn. 36).



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the Vatican, in 1766 the Catholic Church accepted the Anglican kings and queens of Great Britain as the official rulers. Bus even then Henry Benedict Cardinal Duke of York did not give up hope; even after his brother’s death in 1788 he tried to proclaim himself Henry IX—but the enraged pope intervened. Henry Benedict was appointed cardinal in 1747 and became the only Stuart that counted in the eyes of the Holy Roman Church, also if not as a king but as a member of the catholic clergy. No monument was erected for his father following the above-mentioned vote, nor for Charles when he died in 1788; this would only materialize several years after the decease of Cardinal Henry Stuart (1807), the last of the Stuart Family. In 1810 Monsignor Angelo Cesarini, executor of the estate of Henry Benedict Stuart commissioned a monument for the Cardinal of the Stuart Family.44 Cesarini hired none other than the famous sculptor Antonio Canova for the construction of the design and the execution. In 1815 he changed the design of the monument to commemorate all three male Stuarts, with the permission of Pope Pius VII Chiaramonti (1800–1823), and with the agreement of the prince regent of Great Britain George August Frederick, later George IV of England; at the time of the French Revolution Pope Pius VII’s dealings with France and conflicts with Napoleon obliged him to be reliant on good relationships with other European states. The monument, finished in 1819, displays at the bottom two mourning angels of death in classical nudity on either side of a mausoleum door crowned by a pointed gable with the words: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord”, a quotation from the Book of Revelation (14,13).45 This inscription was a reference to Christian faith—not only to the Catholic Church and the Stuart family as would have been the case with the ambitious plans designed by Bracci for James III more than 50 years earlier. Above there is another, more expended inscription surmounted by three relief portraits of James III and his two sons, two of them wearing armour and the other, in the middle, a spiritual robe and wig, which clearly shows Cardinal Henry Benedict Stuart. The top is adorned with garlands and wreaths, and the whole is surmounted with the royal arms of the Stuart Family. The inscription in gilded letters reads: “To James III, son of King James II of Great Britain, to Charles Edward and to Henry, Dean of the Cardinal Fathers, sons of James III, the last of the Royal House of Stuart. 1819”.46 Having the whole history of the exiled court

44 Stella Rudolph, Il monumento Stuart del Canova: un committente dimenticato e il primo pensiero ritrovato, in: Antologia di belle arti 16 (1980), pp. 49–51. The contract is preserved in the Biblioteca Civica in Bassano del Grappa, Mss. Canoviani, IV, f. 101. For the political aspect of the monument see also Katarzyna Mikocka-Rachubowa, Il cenotafio degli ultimi Stuart, i discendenti del re Sobieski, in: Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Zuzanna Flisowska, Paweł Migasiewicz (eds.), I Sobieski a Roma. La famiglia reale polacca nella Città Eterna, Varsavia: Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana III w Wiłanwie, 2018, pp. 328–341. 45 BEATI MORTVI / QVI IN DOMINO MORIVNTVR. 46 IACOBO III / IACOBI II MAGNAE BRIT REGIS FILIO / KAROLO EDVARDO / ET HENRICO DECANO PATRUM CARDINALIVM / IACOBI III FILIIS / REGIAE STIRPIS STVARDIAE POSTREMIS / ANNO M DCCC XIX.





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in mind, this summery is really regardful, also if James III is not explicit called a king any more, but also proclaims the official end of the family branch and, above all, of any chances for a Stuart restoration in England.

Conclusion Mainly religious reasons were behind the words of the inscription, and the style and iconography of the first little monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska and behind the words of the inscription to be found in the convent of S. Cecilia in Rome. The second, more magnificent monument dedicated to her in St. Peter’s Basilica, and the plans for that of her husband James III Stuart were used not only to promote an individual and a family, but for the glorification and idealization of the Catholic Church and the extensive power of the Vatican. On the other hand, the Stuart monument by Canova erected 53 years later was little more than a respectful but modest memorial to the former royal family. The changes and different forms of commemoration can be explained not only by the disparate lives of the deceased, but particularly as a result of shifting alliances between all the players involved.



Court and Diplomatic Celebrations

Philippa Woodcock

L’Ambition de l’Espagnol Fireworks and Frontiers in Early Bourbon Paris In 1624, just nine years after Louis XIII’s marriage to Ana, the Spanish infanta, the Mercure François declared that “the Alps and the Pyrenees were limits which nature has placed between the two belligerent nations to keep each one shut up in its own country.”1 The sentiment suggested that the diplomatic gains intended by the 10 year peace of the Treaty of Fontainebleau (1611) and the marriage had failed. Such an expression of French suspicion supports Alain Hugon’s characterisation of the period between 1598–1635 as “une bipolarisation croissante entre les deux couronnes que les contemporains qualifient de «guerre en renard”—a phoney war between wary, battle weary combatants.2 This chapter will explore attitudes in Paris towards Louis XIII’s Spanish marriage and that of his sister Elisabeth to the future Philip IV. It will identify fears about French—and particularly Parisian—security in the period between the Carrousel of 1612, which feted the prospective marriages, and their actual celebration in November 1615. This will be traced in civic fireworks referring to the marriages and more specifically to the Pyrenees, France’s notional southern border with Spain, where border disputes were rife until 1659 and beyond.3 Whilst Henri IV had looked to reinforce, map and control all France’s borders with Spanish and Hapsburg possessions, the southern mountains were key to the articulation of ideas about French security.4 Rather than just being a fluctuation in French foreign policy, the alliances appeared to be a diplomatic volte-face, changing the role of the southern border from safe-guard to playground.

1 Mercure François, 1624 in Peter Sahlins, Boundaries. The Making of France and Spain in the Pyrenees, Berkeley: UCLA, 1989, p. 36. 2 Alain Hugon, Les méthodes de lutte entre les maisons de Bourbon et de Habsbourg (1598–1700), in: Lucien Bély (ed.), La Présence des Bourbons en Europe XVIe–XXIe siècle, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2003, pp. 59–74, p. 60. 3 Michael Hayden, France and the Estates General of 1614, Cambridge: CUP, 1974, p.  42, p.  46 and p. 58 n. 1; Sahlins, Boundaries, pp. 29–35, pp. 44–53; Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria Queen of France, Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1985, p. 19. 4 Jeremy Black, A Revolution in Military Cartography?: Europe 1650–1815, in: The Journal of Military History 73:1 (2009), pp. 49–68, p. 55.

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Endorsing the new alliance After Henri IV’s assassination, whether or not the king had meant to formally ally with Spain, France found that “nulle autre alliance ne peut etre si commode & si necessaire au Royaume de France que celle d’Espagne”.5 On 25 March 1612 Henri’s widow, the Regent Maria de’Medici, announced the double marriages, annulling a previous proposed marriage between Elisabeth and the duke of Savoy. Whilst the contracts did not mention any of France’s borders with Spanish possessions, royal propaganda emphasised the marriages’ potential to settle frontiers and engender fertile geographies.6 The Pyrenees were key to this, as in one anonymous engraving, La Paix procurée aux peuples par la double alliance (1615) personifications of the Seine and Tagus, “mêlent leurs eaux”, against the western Pyrenees.7 This was repeated in later images of the marriage. The exchange of the princesses Anna and Elisabeth at the Bidasoa in 1615, as depicted by Pieter van der Meulen and in Puget de la Serre’s History of Louis XIII’s reign (both c.1625) indicate occupation of similarly fertile borderlands, by equally strong armies and magnificent courts. This idea had been established in the court’s celebrations of this alliance on 5–7 April 1612, centred on a huge Carrousel and “chiffre” fireworks at the barely completed place Royale.8 The display was detailed in de Rosset’s Romant des Chevaliers de la Gloire which applied tales from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (and in particular its Gigantomachy) to develop long-established representations of Henri IV as Hercules, and his son, Louis XIII as Jupiter-Apollo.9 It identified the Pyrenees as a site of unity in the alliance as the Romant opens “Comme les génies de France & d’Espagne se recon-

5 John H. Elliott,  The Political Context of the 1612–1615 Franco-Spanish Treaty, in: Margaret M McGowan (ed.) Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615 A Celebration of the Habsburg and Bourbon Unions, Farnham: Ashgate, 2013, pp.  5–18; Anonymous, Les Feux de Joye de la France Sur les pompes & magnificences faictes à Paris, pour l’heureuse alliance de son Roy avec l’Infante d’Espagne, Lyon: Claude Morillon, 1612, p. 4. 6 For the contracts see Kleinman, 1985 (as fn. 5), p. 15; Yves-Marie Bercé, The Birth of Absolutism A History of France 1598–1661, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1996, p. 48. 7 Hélène Duccini, Faire voir, faire croire. L’opinion publique sous Louis XIII, Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2003, p. 185, (BNF Cabinet des Estampes B 82621/ Qb 1 1615). 8 See Monique Chatenet, The Carrousel on the Place Royale: Production, Costumes and Décor, in: Margaret M McGowan (ed.) Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615 A Celebration of the Habsburg and Bourbon Unions, Farnham: Ashgate, 2013, pp. 95–113; Paulette Choné, The Dazzle of Chivalric Device: Carrousel on the Place Royale, in: Margaret M McGowan (ed.) Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615 A Celebration of the Habsburg and Bourbon Unions, Farnham: Ashgate, 2013, pp.  155–163; Michel de Marolles, Les mémoires de Michel de Marolles, 3 vols., vol. I, Paris: Antoine de Sommaville, 1656, p. 23. 9 For sixteenth century Jupiterian iconography see Alain Tallon, Des Valois aux Bourbons. Les projets d’alliance catholique au XVIe siècle, in: Lucien Bély (ed.) La presence des Bourbons en Europe XVIe– XXIe siècle, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2003, pp. 37–57, p. 41; for its development under Henri IV see: Jean-Luc Martinez, Florence Dinet (eds.), Théâtre du pouvoir, 2017/8, Paris: Editions du Seuil, 2017. For its reprisal in Louis XIII’s reign see Marlies E. Kronegger, Allegorical Voyages:





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trent aux monts Pyrenées”.10 In practice, the jousts joined French and Spanish courtiers to battle heretical Giants, allegorising Christendom’s combat against the Turks. Through insisting on mythological discourse around Louis XIII, official public display and elite art promoted the positive impact of the marriages upon French perceptions of their Spanish neighbours, and the security of their border. However, as the Mercure François reported, this opinion was not universally shared. Parlementaire, princely and Protestant fears concerning the Spanish alliance began to surface: indeed, for Paulette Choné, the Carrousel’s display of noble unity had always “sounded rather too loud” to be plausible.11 Calls were made to abandon the marriages “between two people who are enemies in everything”, and by January 1614 Condé led an open princely revolt against the Regent.12 A pamphlet war erupted, producing 858 recorded titles for 1614–1615 alone.13 For Jeffrey K. Sawyer, Denis Richet and Hélène Duccini these expressed the tension between two strands in political life: the bon françois, fearful of a return to ultra-montanist Catholicism with a “more secular and nationalist view of politics”, and the dévôt, concerned for the primacy of the monarchy and Catholicism.14 Such divided opinion forced the calling of an Estates General for autumn 1614, with the marriages delayed until November 1615. Paris was a milieu in which the reciprocal benefits of the marriage alliances were not universally recognised. To expose Parisian attitudes, this chapter explores two little studied accounts of fireworks in 1614 and 1615, organised by the Hôtel de Ville for the feu de la Saint-Jean, a festival which took place on the 23 June with increasing regularity, if not “tous les ans la veille de la Fête de Saint Jean-Baptiste.”15 The first—a pamphlet—L’Ambition de L’Espagnol, en son artifice par lui faict en la solennite de la vueille de la S. Jean-Baptiste au feu de joye que la ville de Paris a accoutume faire par chacun an, par M.C.I.H.D.C

Louis XIII and the Sacred, in: Anna-Teresa Tymaniacka (ed.) Analecta Husserliana: From the Sacred to the Divine, 43 (1994), pp. 127–148. 10 François de Rosset, Le Romant des Chevaliers de la Gloire, contenant plusieurs hautes et fameuses adventures des Princes; & des Chevaliers qui parurent aux Courses fauctes à la Place Royale pour les la feste des Alliances de France et d’Espagne, Paris: chez la veuve Pierre Bertaud, 1612, p. 1. 11 Choné 2013 (as fn. 8), p. 163. 12 Elliott 2013 (as fn. 5), p. 18, citing La Cassandre, a pro-Condé pamphlet. 13 Hayden 1974 (as fn.  3), p.  68; Jeffrey K. Sawyer, Printed Poison. Pamphlet Propaganda, Faction Politics, and the Public Sphere in Early Seventeeth-Century France, Berkeley: UCLA, 1990, p. 51. 14 Sawyer 1990 (as fn. 13), p. 94. Denis Richet, La polémique politique en France de 1612 à 1615, in: Roger Chartier, Denis Richet (eds.), Représentation et vouloir politiques autour des États-Généraux de 1614,  Paris: Éditions de l’École des hautes études en sciences sociales, 1982, pp.  180–184; Duccini 2003 (as fn. 7), pp. 177–180. 15 Roger Amand Weigert, Les feux d’artifice ordonnés par le bureau de la ville de Paris au XVIIe siècle, in: Extrait des Mémoires de la Fédération des sociétés historiques et archéologiques de Paris et de l’Ile de France III (1951), pp. 173–215, p. 183. The event was almost annual by the 1640s, see Archives Nationales de France (AN) K 999.



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(23 juin), is hereafter referred to as L’Ambition. This was published in Paris in 1614 by Jean Brunet, a known printer of political works of all persuasions, and seems to record a feu de la Saint Jean for 1614.16 The same event in 1615 is sketchily recorded in the Registres des délibérations du bureau de la ville de Paris.17 These are important sources, for although traditionally seen as devoted to the monarchy, the Hôtel de Ville’s visual displays from 1610–1614 have not been scrutinised beyond Roger-Armand Weigert’s 1951 survey, nor has evidence been sought of civic attitudes to the marriages beyond the Carrousel.18 This is a striking omission. Whilst marriage diplomacy has attracted renewed attention, the innovative festival elements of these and contemporary European royal marriages have been much analysed.19 The civic and courtly fireworks which accompanied them across Europe were politically charged, ‘a language and an entertainment for eyes and ears’, visible to the public as well as the court.20 Yet, the only civic fireworks in Paris specifically related to the marriages’ celebrations before 1615 followed the Carrousel and were “par le commandement du Roy”.21 No traceable detail of these fireworks survives, though the city was invited to illuminate its windows by placing “chascun quantité de lanternes de papier peinctes de diverses couleurs, avec grosses chandelles dans icelles”.22 Although a three-night mythological fireworks extravaganza—the fête de Saint-Louis—took place in late summer 1613 for the king’s ‘name day’, this was organised by the crown, and not the Hôtel de Ville. Celebrations for the return of Louis XIII to Paris and his majority in October 1614 with “grande quantité d’artillerie, canons et bouettes” took place outside the parlement, and the accompanying pamphlet makes no reference to marital policy.23 What makes this gap in both the displays and the literature even more remarkable is the later incidence of

16 Duccini 2003 (as fn. 7), p. 46. 17 Registres des délibérations du bureau de la ville de Paris, Paul Guérin, Léon Le Grand (eds.), 16 volumes (1883–1927), vol. XVI, Paris: Service Historique, 1927, pp. 193–195; also AN K 998/211. 18 Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 173. 19 See collections by Valentina Caldari, Sara J. Wolfson (eds.), Stuart Marriage Diplomacy Dynastic Politics in their European Context, 1604–1630, Boydell: Woodbridge, 2018; Margaret M. McGowan (ed.), Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615, Abingdon: Routledge, 2013; Paulette Choné, Fireworks Displays in Paris, London and Heidelberg (1612–1615), in: Margaret M McGowan (ed.) Dynastic Marriages 1612/1615 A Celebration of the Habsburg and Bourbon Unions, Farnham: Ashgate, 2013, pp. 201–214. 20 Choné 2013 (as fn. 19), p. 201. 21 Registres des délibérations du bureau de la ville de Paris, ed. Léon Le Grand, 16 volumes (1883– 1927), here vol. XV (Paris: Service Historique, 1921), p. 138. 22 Registres 1921 (as fn. 21), pp. 138–139. 23 Registres 1927 (as fn. 17), pp. 18–20; Jean Baudouin, Les Feux de joye pour la resjouyssance publique, par la déclaration de la majorité du Roy, en sa cour du Parlement de Paris, le jeudy deuxiesme de ce présent mois d’octobre 1614, ensemble les merveilles du ciel, envoyées le mesme jour à Sa Majesté, Paris: A du Brueil, 1614.





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geographically themed Parisian fireworks, set against and mirrored in the Seine, the symbolic centre of the city.24

Resurrecting the feu de la Saint-Jean The feux de la Saint-Jean were held on the place de Grève, the large square before the Hôtel de Ville, so central to both Parisian and state authority. The festival had its roots in pagan summer solstice, and the tinge of sacrifice remained into the late sixteenth-century, as bags of live cats and foxes were burnt on the bonfire as scape goats for communal ills and “pour donner plaisir à Sa Majesté”.25 (Happily, these were accorded pardon by the dauphin in 1604.)26 Accompanying fireworks were “toujours dressé sur un enorme piédestal” and might be organised by several masters across multiple stages.27 Evidence suggests that displays took place in the early evening from 6.30–9 pm, with several hours of Midsummer light following.28 The event was a point of connection from city to court with processions around the place, including the prévot des marchands, greffier, échevins, the king, the governor of Paris and 100 Swiss guards.29 The king was invited to light the fuse or bonfire: he either did so in person or a trusted courtier went in his place.30 Afterwards, the king joined the civic dignitaries for a banquet in the Hôtel.31 An engraving by Claude de Châtillon (1559–1616) indicates the union between crown and city by the arms of France, Navarre and Medici, which flank the Maison [sic.] de ville, whilst at the summit of the bonfire’s peak there is an exploding crown of fireworks (fig. 1). Paris’s cannons fired in joy and salute, uniting city, crown, night and soundscape in approbation. Given this symbolic importance, records in the Registres are surprisingly sparse, both

24 See Jérôme de La Gorce, “Le Triomphe de la Seine et du Tage sur les autres Fleuves de l’Europe, affermi par la Naissance du duc de Bretagne”: une fête organisée à Paris pendant la guerre de Succession d’Espagne, in : La Pérdida de Europa : la guerra de Sucesión por la Monarquía de España (Conference proceedings, 14 December 2006, Madrid), Madrid: Fundación Carlos Amberes, 2007, pp. 49–63. 25 Yves-Marie Bercé, Fête et révolte: des mentalités populaires du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle, Paris: Hachette, 1976, p. 47; C. Leber, J.B. Salgues (eds.), Collection des Meilleurs Notices et Traités particulier relatifs à l’Histoire de France, Paris: J.G. Dentu, 1826, p. 477. 26 Eud. Soulié, Ed. de Barthélemy (eds.) Journal de Jean Heroard sur l’enfance et la jeunesse de Louis XII, 2 volumes, vol. II, 1610–1628, Paris: Firmin Didot, 1868, p. 74. 27 Emile Magne, Les feux d’artifice au dix-septième siècle, in: La Revue hebdomadaire, (13 July 1912), pp. 239–254, p. 242. 28 Soulié, Barthélemy 1868 (as fn. 26), p. 246. 29 Registres 1927 (as fn. 17), p. 194. 30 Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 175; for Henri IV missing the event with gout see Registres des délibérations du bureau de la ville de Paris, ed. Léon Le Grand, 16 volumes (1883–1927), here vol. XIV, Paris: Service Historique, 1908, pp. 184–185; Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 183 for royal attendance after 1648. 31 Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 180.



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Fig. 1: Feu de la Saint-Jean, 19th century print, after a pre-1616 design by Claude de Châtillon in Jehan de la Cité, L’Hôtel de Ville de Paris et la Grève à travers les âges, d’après l’historien de Paris Édouard Fournier, Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1895, p. 121.



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in completeness and interest: for this immediate period feux were only recorded in 1600, 1607, 1615 and 1620.32 In the later seventeenth century, pamphlets were typically sold to accompany such fireworks, and it seems that one survives for 1614. Such works combined lengthy advisory political comment with description “en style déplorable.”33 However, in comparison to the nine pages of description for the fête de Saint-Louis in 1613, the details of the 1614 Saint-Jean fireworks are brief. After six pages of allegorised discussion in L’Ambition, we learn only of: un feu de joye qui se campe en place de Greve, ou toute sorte d’artifice est representé […]Deux divers personnages se presenterent, l’un Espagnol, l’autre Francois, pour entreprendre leur artifice […] L’heure de neuf heures du soir arrivee […] L’Espagnol mist le feu en son Artifice qui estoit excellent & admirable s’il eust esté seul, & se rendoit unique en sa perfection. Mais il feust contrepomité par l’Artifice du Francois qui enselevit en un instant nostre Espagnol […]. (7–9)

The description for 1615 is similarly laconic. On 23 June: furent dressez deux feux dans la Grève, l’un ordinaire, devant la rue de la Tannerie, qu’un nommé Domino avoit entrepris de faire, composé d’un grand eschaffaulx sur lequel estoit cinq figures, assavoir les quatre nations du monde et au meilleu ung Jupiter sur ung aigle.34

The second display: fut planté devant ledict Hostel de Ville, où y avoit ung grand eschaffault sur lequel estoit plusieurs figures et entre aultres les forces d’Herculles, avec ung nombre infini de lances à feu, fuzées et aultres artifices.35

Such meagre traces suggest that the act of holding the display was more important than its detail. Nonetheless, it is evident that the fashion remained for the mythological imagery of the Carrousel. As in 1613, there were multiple masters and stages, all of whom can be identified apart from the anonymous Spaniard.36 Omnipresent was the current chief artificer-pyrotechnician, Horace Morel, “chevaux leger de la compagnie de sa Majeste et commissaire de son artillerie”, who had even taught the young king about fireworks.37 Thus 1614 and 1615 corresponded with expected structures and content for fireworks performances.

32 de Marolles 1656 (as fn. 8) pp. 23–24 only mentions fireworks in 1612–1613; AN K 998. 33 Magne 1912 (as fn. 27), p. 242. 34 Registres 1927 (as fn. 17), p. 194. 35 Ibid. 36 Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 178 for Domino’s 1630 display. 37 Morel was later ‘commissaire général des feux et artifices de France’, Simon Werrett, Fireworks: Pyrotechnic Arts and Sciences in European History, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010, p. 20; Jean-Christian Petitfils, Louis XIII, Paris: Perrin, 2008, p. 152.



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Whilst there is no doubting the veracity of the 1615 account, the 1614 pamphlet is problematic. Rarely discussed, it has been accepted as evidence of an actual display and celebratory fireworks literature.38 In this instance, the question remains whether the pamphlet functioned as a de facto record of the events and sentiment, or whether it imposed a heavily nuanced interpretation both of the display’s symbolism and political messages. However, Richet’s fleeting inclusion of this with princely pamphlets opposing the Spanish alliance supports the argument that this is a burlesque—a fictitious account of a popular, symbolic event, which mimics other fireworks pamphlets to criticise royal policy.39 This interpretation is supported by the lack of hitherto identifiable record of the display and by dating evidence: if traditional for the king to light the bonfire, no recorded invitation was issued to him. Indeed, Louis XIII was not in Paris from 21 June – 2 July 1614, instead watching a display on 24 June from the courtyard at Saint-Germain-en-Laye.40 It is probable that the feu de la Saint-Jean did not occur in 1614, for even had they taken place in the king’s absence, the event would still have been attended by key dignitaries and large crowds, requiring the Hôtel de Ville to issue contracts, make security provision and spend large amounts of money, no record of which is to be found in ambassadorial report, contemporary note or archival record. As Sawyer has demonstrated, fake pamphlets were not unusual. Literary attacks on the Regency, often anonymous, used stock characters such as the honest peasant of the Lettre de Jacques Bon-Homme paysan de Beauvoisis: A Messeigneurs les Princes retirez de la cour (Paris: Jean Brunet, 1614), or put words in the mouths of real people (for example the confected letter from Nassau to Condé) to voice complaint and express “‘self-evident’ truths”.41 L’Ambition uses an imagined, yet habitual event to frame Parisian complaint, associated with real figures—Morel and the collective officers of the Hôtel de Ville. The title includes artifice, a word which was and remains coterminous with fireworks and craft, as well as the unnatural.42 The author, and the Spanish artificer he describes, was both a trickster, and master of his craft of ephemera, whether cheap print or chimera. Even if “censorship was evaded with relative ease”, some pamphleteers and printers were punished, and this play on artifice leaves a convenient smokescreen over both authorship and intent.43 Although narrating an imagined event, the 1614 pamphlet demonstrates an accepted contemporary convention that firework iconography and pamphlets could

38 Marie-Françoise Christout, Les feux d’artifices en France de 1606 à 1628. Esquisse historique et ésthetique, in: Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, Paris: CNRS, n.d., pp. 247–257, p. 251; McGowan 2013 (as n. 5), p. 272. 39 Richet 1984 (as fn. 14), p. 169, p. 180; Duccini 2003 (as fn. 7), p. 140. 40 Soulié, Barthélemy 1868 (as fn. 27) p. 142. 41 Sawyer 1990 (as fn. 13), p. 95. 42 Élisabeth Lavezzi, Artifice: le mot, la notion et le concept, in: Élisabeth Lavezzi, Thimothée Picard (eds,), L’artifice dans les lettres et les arts, Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2015, pp. 7–38, pp. 8–9. 43 Sawyer 1990 (as fn. 13), p. 47, p. 52.





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comment on royal policy, just as much as any published letter or harangue. Indeed, the pamphlet arguably sits in a conversation of fireworks as political voices, archly responding to Les feux de joye de la France sur les pompes et magnificence faictes a Paris pour l’heureuse alliance de son roy (1612), where the feux de joye simply refer to the joy of the French people rather than any pyrotechnics. It also sets a precedent for later firework complaint literature, particularly in the Fronde, when political attack could hide in the form of a burlesque description of a Parisian firework display.44

The pamphlet’s intent The specific political circumstances, cast and sentiment suggest that L’Ambition is intended to represent the Parisian elites’ rejection of the Regent’s foreign policy. It speaks for “Les sieurs Prevost des Marchans & Eschevins de cette annee”, (8) and is aligned with their interests and knowledge of civic government. Specific contextual information is provided of recent civic elections, fielded by high quality candidates for “tous les Officiers anciens de la ville & autres font choix des esprits plus capables pour gouverner & reagir pendant leur temps cette ville source de toutes”. (7) Its subtitle states civic desire to provide the “feu de joye que la ville de Paris a accoustumé faire par chacun an”. (1) Overall, the pamphlet is aligned with the bon françois cohort, but vehemently expresses Parisian primacy in the French polity, for the officers it describes are “tenans du vray naturel Francois & notamme[n]t celuy du Parisien qui est libre en ses entreprises.” (7) This is a defiant refutation of prior suspicions that Parisians had supported the pro-Spanish Leaguers in the 1590s.45 The pamphlet also expresses great fears about the marriages, projected onto the Parisian landscape. Indeed, its Hispanophobia subverts the Carrousel’s narrative of Franco-Spanish cooperation through a competition between a Frenchman, Morel, and an anonymous Spaniard who came “emporter de la France un trophee François.” (8) Though “l’Espagnol qui ne paroissoit lors qu’en forme de pelerine” (8), it was perhaps less to worship Morel’s brilliance, than to act as a spy. The close contemporary identification between spies, and seemingly legitimate travellers such as pilgrims and diplomats, was borne out by the establishment in Spain in 1613 of the office of el espia mayor, a diplomat-administrator charged with surveying the mountain frontier and coordinating espionage from France to Spain.46 Further, the pamphlet’s seeming pilgrim from Spain can be related to other Spaniards in ‘disguise’ in France—Don

44 See Philippa Woodcock, Fire and water on the Seine: the Venetian Ambassador’s Fireworks Party, in: Dénes Harai and Gaëlle Lafage (eds.), L’eau et le feu dans les représentations du pouvoir dans l’Europe moderne, Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, to appear 2021. 45 Richet 1984 (as fn. 14), p. 170. 46 Hugon 2003 (as fn. 2), p. 65, p. 71.



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Íñigo de Cárdenas and the duke de Pastrana, Philip III’s ordinary and extraordinary ambassadors. Responsible for brokering the marriage and taking the French prize (Princess Elisabeth) to Spain, it was also falsely rumoured that the Spaniards had found their way into the Regent’s secret councils.47 Diplomatic niceties are also trumped to undermine the marriages. Mimicking the Carrousel’s fiction of unity and equality between France and Spain, the pamphleteer insists upon seeming parity, for at 9 pm “l’Espagnol mist le feu en son Artifice qui estoit excellent & admirable s’il eust esté seul, & se se rendoit unique en sa perfection.” (9) However, this pamphlet tells us that Paris did not perceive France and Spain as equals in all matters. When Morel lit his display the Spaniard “feust contrepomité par l’Artifice du Francois qui ensevelit en un instant nostre Espagnol & le rendit à neant ainsi que son centaure.” (9) Whilst this reference seems oblique, the Centaur symbolised chaos, but also questioned the wisdom of a wedding with an unequal, incompatible partner. In the Metamorphoses, the marriage of the centaurs Cyllarus and Hylonome warned of the dangers between conceptual opposites, as it led to bloody war.48 The same is promised by the Franco-Spanish match. Thus the 1614 pamphlet is an allegory of projected warfare. Moving from the peaceful place Royale of the Carrousel, the place de Grève is a battlefield, directed by two artillerer-soldiers. The allusion is hardly forced. Most fireworks masters had gained their expertise in the royal artillery, and their fireworks were as much a display of military technology as art. Although Morel was unusual in becoming something of a showman-pyrotechnician, he also held the post of commissaire-ordinaire of the artillery.49 Indeed, in 1613 Morel had vaunted himself as a soldier, the pamphleteer placing words in his mouth during the St Louis that “mes cendres serviront de sepulchre à voz ennemis.”50 With such protagonists, the battle was synonymous with open hostility to Spain. Beyond distrust of the Spanish, the pamphlet’s blackening of the Spanish artificer and his ambition “estrangement odieuse à Dieu” (3) aimed to unify hostility to Spain. The Spanish master personifies ambition, pride and impudence (he has outrecuidance) and is intent upon France’s diminution. He had come “estimant que les rodomontades de son esprit estoient bastantes d’aneantir le François en son dessein, s’imaginoit demeurer vainqueur”. (8) Faux-diplomatically the pamphleteer posits, “Non que je vueille blasmer l’Espagnol au subject de son Artifice, Mais de l’ambiction qu’il avoit de vaincres Morel, & estre recogneuë primitif de la France, & rendre nostre

47 Hayden 1974 (as fn. 3), p. 13. 48 Jeri Blair DeBohun, Centaurs in Love and War: Cyllarus and Hylonome in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses”, in: The American Journal of Philology 125:3 (2004), pp. 417–452, p. 417. 49 Werrett 2010 (as n. 37), p. 20. 50 Discours sur les triomphes qui esté faicts le 25 26 & 27 aoust 1613 dans la ville de Paris. A l’honneur & loüange de la feste S. Louys, & de Louys XIII, ensemble les particularitez des feux artificiels, Lyon: Poyet, 1613, p. 13.





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François fallot és pays estrangers.” (9) The ambition of having “se prevaloir d’une victoire premiere qu’elle ne soit arrivee, & estre asseuré de la perte de son ennemy premier qu’il paroisse au champ de bataille” is likened to the acts of “l’Antechrist qui se voudra faire adorer comme Dieu.” (10) Rather than heretical giants to battle, sacrilegious Spaniards now appear on the field. As Sabatier explains for later Hispanophobia, stereotyping the Spanish character in this way and demonising it as an ‘other’ was a conscious process, which allowed France to clarify its position vis-à-vis its neighbour.51 Here, the presentation of the Spaniard served to warn of perceived Spanish hopes to control France. It also supported the psychology of self-definition in a recently fragmented country, divided by religion and political loyalties. Perhaps no one place had experienced the dangers of this more than Paris itself, hence the use of specifically Parisian examples and geography to re-ignite memories and unite opinion. Subsequent discussion of Paris, occupied from 1590–1594, points again to concern about Spain from a Parisian perspective: “Mais aujourd’huy il paroist sus[sic.] nostre Orison un Ambicieux autre que les autres et qui est à blasmer, que les Anges, qu’Adam, & que les Geans.” (5) And what was to be invaded? “De tout temps ce chef d’oeuvre de Nature, ce grand Paris […] cette ville source de toutes”. (6)

Frontiers and mountains Largely focused on Parisian history, cultural and political life, the pamphlet also projects its concerns for defence of the realm’s borders against rival territorial ambitions. If somewhat obscured in the brief and unimaginative fireworks narrative, these two points are again discussed around the [Spanish] sin of ambition, likened to heresy. Beyond the Spanish master’s own hubris, the pamphlet first concentrates upon those, who through ambition, had reached too high ‘towards the peaks’. Lucifer, who had wished to challenge God and “le deposseder de son Ciel empire” (3) had fallen to Hell. Adam, who had sought a greater realm of knowledge was led out of Paradise by “la parole de sa femme qui avoit esté charmee du Prince des Enfers pour scavoir le bien et le mal, derogeant au commandement seul que Dieu leur avoit faict.” (3) This discussion of ambition then turns to those who had sought to conquer France, a subject key to the Hôtel de Ville’s interests. Each year its dignitaries attended masses for Paris’ deliverance from Spanish and English occupation.52 The pamphleteer evokes these episodes, turning first to Spain for “Ce n’est pas d’auiourd’huy (ô France) que tu as

51 Gérard Sabatier, Il était de France, mais d’Espagne tout autant…, in: Gérard Sabatier Margarita Torrione (eds.), ¿Louis XIV espagnol?, Paris: Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, 2009, pp. 1–16, p. 11. 52 For 1614 see Registres 1921 (as fn. 21), pp. 348–349.



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renversé comme un Lupin par l’esclat de tes armes ceux qui par ambition te vouloient devestir de tes Roys & s’emparer de toy”. (4). The past expulsion of the similarly ambitious English is highlighted, for God had “repoussé furieusement telle nation jusques dans ses Isles.” (4) Clearly, other nations should stay within their own boundaries, should they wish to avoid the wrath of God. The strength of concern extends beyond the immediate Parisian environs. To defend France, the pamphleteer insists upon the surety of its mountain frontier, drawing on the Gigantomachy, a theme again illustrated in Puget de la Serre’s Histoire in 1625 (fig. 2). The pamphlet identifies the French with Jupiter and the Gods, the Spanish with the Giants, envious of French greatness. On just the second page of the pamphlet, Ovid’s tale is repeated for “Les Geans vouloie[n]t escalader le Ciel posans montagnes sus montagnes”. (4) Indeed, “les Geans se confians du tout en leurs forces esperoient qu’assemblans mo[n]ts sur monts il se rendroyent immortalisez dans le Ciel.” (5–6) Spain is seeking to dominate France, whether through assumptions of technical parity, or impudent territorial ambitions. Yet, these mountains should not be franchised. Where in Ovid, Jupiter “voyant l’outrecuidance des mortels, fist esclater son tonnere sur eux & les reduit en poudre” (4), the 1614 pamphleteer sends the giants’ ambition to “une mangoire de pourceaux qui creveront plustost que souler.”(11) Ambitions to gain influence in France through marriage, and to move beyond the Pyrenees are literally rubbished. Finally, the significance of the defence of mountain ranges is evoked from a Parisian perspective. The pamphleteer urges that: “Les estrangers n’ont plus que voir sur le Parnasse, car les Muses les en ont bannis, & ont pris les enfans de la France pour leur servir d’echo en leurs perfections.” (11) Parisian geography serves as a proxy to literary allusion to Mount Parnassus as home of the Gods.53 In this period Montparnasse began to be used to refer to a piece of raised ground, resulting from a rubbish heap, in the parish of Vaugirard—at the southern bounds of the city.54 If not quite regulated by the muses, “les enfans de France” (11) were habitués of this area. It was popular with students declaiming poetry, as well as those voicing political complaint. The pamphlet warns that others will undoubtedly want to come to this proximity for: “Ie ne scay qu’elle province trouver qui n’aye este ambicieuse de posseder nostre parterre de l’Univers sont venus jusques aux portes, mais jusques à present n’ont peu entrer ayans Dieu pour nostre protecteur”. (5) Thus, Paris should remain free of external influence, whether that of ambassadors or impresarios. Nonetheless, if the marriage is criticised as a security menace, this pamphlet does not provide evidence to counter Weigert’s impressions of civic devotion to the

53 See Magne 1912 (as fn. 27), p. 241 for Montparnasse as stage-set. 54 The 1652 Boisseau map refers to the Mont de Parnasse, also known as the Mont de Fronde. Plan de la ville, Cité, Université, isles et fauxbourgs de Paris avec le projet de la Nouvelle Closture ou nouvelles fortifications dicelles divisée par ses 15 quartiers, Paris: J. Boisseau, 1652.





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Fig. 2: The Giants repelled by Jupiter, Jean Puget de la Serre Jean Puget de la Serre, Les amours du Roy, et de la Reine sous le nom de Jupiter & de Junon, avec les magnificences de leurs nopces, ou L’histoire morale de France, soubs le règne de Louys le Juste & Anne d’Austriche, Paris : Nicolas Bessin, 1625, p. 162. 

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crown. Monarchy itself is respected for Paris is “honoré de la presence de son Roy”. (7) The foreign threat is a menace to the ruling dynasty, for if the Spanish had wanted “te vouloient devestir de tes Roys” (4), the English had managed it. The partnership between crown and Godly dignity is restored to the discussion, for when arguing that ambitious foreigners should be removed from the realm this “banissement aye esté aprouvé & confirmé par Apolo” (12), another alter-ego for the young king. The theme so current to the 1612 celebrations to stress parity and unity is thoroughly subverted here to convey French superiority, a belief in monarchy and a clear division of French and Spanish territory and interests.

Making sense of 1615 The pamphlet’s political complaint is one expression of popular sentiment, allegedly that of the civic government. If representative, its anonymity was a means to contribute to pressure on the Regent before the Estates sat in October. Indeed, there were several members of the Bureau present at the Estates, including Robert Miron, the newly elected prévôt des marchands de Paris (and conseiller d’etat) who served as president and orator of the third estate in October 1614.55 Their role in this assembly required confirmation by the Regent. Interestingly, the Bureau refused her requests to change the date of this confirmation until her return to Paris: had they developed a taste for dissent?56 Instead, elected officials travelled to Nantes for confirmation, and were feted at every village upon their return.57 Nonetheless, if the rarely convoked Estates General only had a limited effect on calming national opposition before the marriages finally took place, the Spanish alliances were not evoked directly by the Parisian members. However, issues redolent of bon françois preoccupations—political Gallicanism and anti-Jesuitism—were raised.58 The fireworks of June 1615 were the first instance of a feu de la Saint Jean after L’Ambition’s attack, and the Estates General. Given 1614’s dire warnings of invasion and war, the echoes of the 1614 pamphlet in the 1615 feu de la Saint-Jean are striking: as shown, they share similar locations, personnel, structures and themes. However, analysis of the 1615 event suggests that the échevins tried to distance themselves from the violent sympathies of L’Ambition, regardless of whether they had been its patrons. Instead, the physical events of the night, tailored to a boy king’s tastes, were used to ritually underline the partnership between crown and loyal city. Invitation accepted,

55 Lloyd A. Moote, Louis XIII the Just, Berkeley: UCLA Press, 1989, p.  71. For his election and confirmation see Registres 1927 (as fn. 17), pp. 1–6; Hayden 1974 (as fn. 3), p. 266. 56 Registres 1921 (as fn. 21), pp. 368–369. 57 Registres 1927 (as fn. 17), p. 7. 58 Hayden 1974 (as fn. 3), pp. 132–133.





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Louis XIII took his place in the lengthy ceremonial procession around the place. To the king’s delight he was given control of the displays: Sadicte Majesté mit elle mesme le feu a une fuzee, qui alla droict mettre le feu a artiffice dudict Domino. Et apres qu’elle eut joué, fut semblablement allumé le feu dudict Morel. Et ne se peult dire la quantitté de fuzées, lances a feu, petardz et aultres artiffices qui estoient ès dictz deux feux, et principallement a celluy dudict Morel.59

Afterwards, the monarch joined the habitual banquet, but was back at the Louvre for his 14-year-old’s bedtime. Nonetheless, the strong echoes of the 1614 pamphlet are problematic. The coincidence of themes and structure in 1614 and 1615 could have been nothing more than accident or fashion, the Bureau echoing imagery from displays in 1612 and 1613 and “un moyen de manifester leurs resources de machinistes et leur adresse d’artificier.”60 There is certainly scant survival of L’Ambition, but this is not indicative of its contemporary circulation. Instead, given the Bureau’s very close association with such open Hispanophobia, it is arguable that the échevins of 1615 chose to reprise 1614’s structures and themes, seeking to nullify any associated taint they might bear from the denunciation of Spanish ambition. This was achieved by mounting a splendid display in the monarchy’s honour, praising the dynasty, father and son, Hercules and Jupiter-Apollo. Particular elements of 1614’s attack remained: for example, the foreign master’s fireworks were lit first, and Morel given primacy—the main quantity of fuses belonged to him.61 Others were reduced to the infantile and sugar coated, but nonetheless concern for the frontier remained. Here, the Hôtel de Ville urged that the French take control of the Pyrenees and its frontiers. During the private banquet, the bakers and patissiers unveiled a pièce montée to the king’s delight: “ung grand rocher artifficiel, compose de confitures de toutes sortes, du poix d’environ cinquante livres, dans lequel y auroit des oyseaulx chantans leur ramage et des thuiaulx de fontaines ruisselans de l’eaue et du vin”.62 Rather than challenged by dire warnings of mountain-lobbing giants, the king was delighted. “Et estoit difficile de rien veoir de plus beau et mieulx faict. Lesquels ayans esté veuz par Sa Majesté, commanda à mesdicts sieurs de ladicte Ville de les luy faire porter au Louvre.” Thus, as the evening closed the mountains were placed under the French king’s control and consumption: an ideal compromise situation for any doubters of the Spanish match.

59 Soulié, Barthélemy 1868 (as fn. 26), p. 177. 60 Weigert 1951 (as fn. 15), p. 185. 61 This was perhaps not surprising given Morel’s status as court artificer. Equally, his display had been considered superior to those of the other masters’ in the 1613 fête de Saint-Louis, see Malherbe to Peiresc, 6 September 1613, Lettres de Malherbe, Paris, J.-J. Blaise, 1822, pp. 286–287. 62 Registres 1927 (as fn. 17).



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Conclusion The pamphlet is a clear refutation of the Spanish match, which uses the immediate surroundings of the Hôtel de Ville as the theatre of expression of Hispanophobia, the Spanish master its Saint-Jean’s scapegoat. Whether or not this pamphlet was a true expression of the échevins’ beliefs, it shows that opposition towards the Regent’s policy was quickly ignited and tallied with bon françois opinion. While the marriage contracts had not expressed concern about mountain borders—or indeed, the frontier with the Spanish Netherlands—the pamphlet and 1615 display prove the gap between official representations of the alliance—all union and bounty—and popular perceptions of an inequal match. Moreover, in this period of instability civic fireworks displays, as well as the idea of them, could be used deftly to express opposition and solutions to fears over the fluctuation in France’s traditional policy, using and subverting scenarios drawn from the Metamorphoses, staged against the Parisian landscape. With memories of Philip II’s intervention in French politics still fresh, the 1614 pamphlet allows for understanding of how popular Hispanophobia remained into the “guerre couverte” of the 1620s and beyond, especially as ‘Louis XIII [moved] back towards a more traditionally anti-Habsburg stance’.63 This divide remained true when it came to the next Spanish match—the marriage of Louis XIV and his cousin Maria-Teresa in 1660. This time, the Treaty of the Pyrenees specifically provided for exact recognition of the frontier, and there was an official image of concord, as both negotiating ministers, Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro were depicted against the frontier, acting as symbolic ‘fence posts’ in Sahlins’ imagination.64 However, just as in 1614, popular art reported continued hostility to Spain, with the Pyrenees depicted as vital in France’s defence. The satirical print, l’Espagnol abbatu voulant monter trop haut: La Tortue ayant eu l’ambition de seslever dans l’air par le moyen de l’Aigle tombe, et se brise shows Jupiter, in the guise of an eagle, dropping the Spanish tortoise before it can cross the Pyrenees (fig.  3). The sentiments of L’Ambition had not died away, despite all the best diplomatic efforts, and the thought clearly persisted that France remained prey to its southern neighbour, with the mountains the only real barrier to these ambitions.

63 David Parrott, Richelieu’s Army. War, Government and Society in France, 1624–1642, Cambridge: CUP, 2001, p. 86. 64 Sahlins 1989 (as n. 1) p. 28.





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Fig. 3: Anon., l’Espagnol abbatu voulant monter trop haut: La Tortue ayant eu l’ambition de seslever dans l’air par le moyen de l’Aigle tombe, et se brise, n.p., 1658, in Recueil. Collection Michel Hennin. Estampes relatives à l’Histoire de France, volume 43.



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Changing Alliances and their Impact on Charles III of Habsburg’s Royal Music Chapel and its Musicians in Barcelona (1705–1713) International politics, changing alliances and, in this case, the Spanish War of Succession influenced art, especially music, in many ways, including the organisation of musical life. This paper focuses on the Royal Music Chapel of Charles III of Habsburg in Barcelona, the impact the war had on its organisation, and how the outcome of this conflict affected the musicians’ life histories, especially that of the violinist and composer Angelo Ragazzi. Charles VI, the last Baroque emperor of the Holy Roman Empire had—particularly in his youth—a challenging life. As the second son of Emperor Leopold I, he was educated to become the heir of the huge Spanish kingdom, as it became clear after 1690 that his cousin Charles II of Spain would die without a successor. Nevertheless, King Louis XIV had the same pretensions for his grandson Philippe d’Anjou, and when Charles II died in 1700 in Madrid, the Spanish War of Succession began, a war that considerably changed the political map of Europe. The Emperor Leopold I declared his son as King of Spain and Charles left Vienna in September 1703 to take possession of the Spanish territories as Charles III. This would prove difficult as Philippe d’Anjou, the other contender for the throne, had been residing in Madrid since 1700 as King Philip V. As the Catalan regions mainly favoured the Austrian candidate, they rose against the Bourbon king and so Charles was able to establish his court at Barcelona in 1705. There, he started to organise a Royal Music Chapel.1 Charles had to leave Barcelona in 1711 due to the unexpected

I would like to thank Andrea Sommer-Mathis for her help with the transcriptions, Hanna and Julia Neubauer-Lipp and Sinead O’Sullivan for their careful proofreading. They bear no responsibility for the errors that may remain but without their help there would be many more. 1 In relation to the music and musicians at Charles’s court in Barcelona see: Andrea Sommer-Mathis, Entre Nápoles, Barcelona y Viena. Nuevos documentos sobre la circulación de músicos a principios del siglo XVIII, in: Artigrama: Revista del Departamento de Historia del Arte de la Universidad de Zaragoza 12 (1996–1997), pp.  45–77. Andrea Sommer-Mathis, Von Barcelona nach Wien. Die Einrichtung des Musik- und Theaterbetriebes am Wiener Hof durch Kaiser Karl VI, in: Josef Gmeiner (ed.), Musica conservata. Günter Brosche zum 60. Geburtstag, Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1999, pp. 355–381. Italian version: Andrea Sommer-Mathis, Da Barcellona a Vienna. Il personale teatrale e musicale alla corte dell’Imperatore Carlo VI, in: Franco Carmelo Greco (ed.), I percorsi della scena. Cultura e comuni­ cazione del teatro nell’Europa del Settecento, Naples: Luciano Editore, 2001, pp.  343–358. Andrea Sommer-Mathis, Politik und Musikerreisen zu Beginn des 18. Jahrhunderts am Beispiel Giuseppe Porsiles, in: Christian Meyer (ed.), Les Musiciens et ses voyages. Pratiques, réseaux et représentation, Berlin: Berliner Wissenschaftsverlag, 2003, pp.  29–42. Danièle Lipp, Músicos italianos entre las cortes de Carlos III / VI en Barcelona y Viena, in: Antonio Álvarez-Ossorio, Bernardo J. García García, Virginia León (eds.), La pérdida de Europa: La guerra de Sucesión por la Monarquía de España, Madrid:

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death of his elder brother Joseph I. As Charles was the only living male descendent of the Habsburgs, he had to return to his native city. Charles reformed the whole court staff in Vienna, including the music chapel, a normal procedure that every new emperor carried out after the death of his predecessor. The Habsburg dynasty and especially the Baroque emperors Leopold I (1640– 1705) and his sons Joseph I (1678–1711) and Charles VI (1685–1740) were not only the representatives of one of the most important dynasties of the Baroque, the Holy Roman Empire, but also enjoyed art and especially music. The performance of music in their court was mainly an expression of the immense political power they wanted to demonstrate, but—as they were also talented musicians—was at the same time for their personal entertainment. The Imperial Music Chapel had to guarantee music performances at public processions, for masses and oratories, and for a specific Viennese genre, the sepolcro, a type of oratorio that the members had to perform during the Holy Week. Furthermore, they had to hold many different types of lavish court entertainment, such as drammi per musica or smaller dramatic works like componimenti da camera and serenate. The Viennese court was one of the first places north of the Alps that had regular opera performances, due to the Habsburg marriages with princesses from Northern Italian cities such as Mantua. These Italian brides brought with them not only their court staff but also this new genre of music called opera, and in some cases also the musicians. The Imperial Music Chapel was founded long before the Baroque era, but from the middle of the 17th century the members in charge of the music chapel began to recruit more musicians in order to be able to perform these new musical events.2 Opera performances took place more frequently during

Fundación Carlos de Amberes, 2007, pp.  159–179. Danièle Lipp, Italienische Musiker am Wiener Kaiserhof zwischen 1712 und 1740. Ursachen und Verläufe der Migration nach Wien, in: Josef Ehmer, Karl Ille (eds.), Italienische Anteile am multikulturellen Wien, Wien: Studienverlag, 2009, pp. 152–167. Danièle Lipp, Musik am Hofe Karls III. in Barcelona, Saarbrücken: VDM-Verlag, 2010. Danièle Lipp, La Capilla Real de Barcelona (1705–1713). Constitución de la capilla y migración de músicos a la corte de Barcelona y la la corte imperial vienesa, in: Tess Knighton, Ascensión Mazuela (eds.), Música i política a l’epoca de l’arxiduc Carles en el context europeu, Barcelona: Ajuntament de Barcelona: Edicions de La Central, 2017, pp. 29–46. 2 For a general overview of the Imperial Music Chapel from its beginnings until 1700 see among others: Herbert Seifert, Die Oper am Wiener Kaiserhof im 17. Jahrhundert, Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1985. Herbert Seifert, La institución de la Capilla Imperial de Maximiliano I a Carlos VI, in: Juan José Carreras and Bernardo J. García García (eds.), La Capilla Real de los Austrias. Música y ritual de corte en la Europa moderna, Madrid: Fundación Carlos de Amberes, 2001, pp.  69–78. English version: Herbert Seifert, The institution of the Imperial Court Chapel from Maximilian I to Charles VI, in: Tess Knighton (ed.), The Royal Chapel in the time of the Habsburgs. Music and Ceremony in the early modern European court, Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2005, pp.  40–47. Susanne Antonicek, Günter Brosche, (eds.), Musica imperialis. 500 Jahre Hofmusikkapelle in Wien, 1598–1998, Tutzing: Schneider, 1998.





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the reign of Leopold I3 until his death in 1705, and his sons Joseph I and Charles continued with this tradition: Joseph in Vienna, and Charles as the Habsburg candidate for the Spanish throne in Barcelona. The following section gives a short overview of the recruitment politics of the court in Vienna before 1705 and continues with the period between 1705 and 1713 in Barcelona, in order to understand the influence of the conflict on the employment politics of the Catalan chapel and the resulting consequences for the members of the court.

Organisation of the chapel and recruitment of the musicians in Vienna How did the Imperial Music Chapel recruit its staff during the Baroque era? The Obersthofmeister,4 together with his staff, was in charge of all the organisational matters of the court, which included the employment of the members of the music chapel. The Obersthofmeisteramtsakten and -protokolle preserve all types of petitions (employment, salary increases, pension, etc.) at the Viennese court. As we know from Maximilian Haas’s research about the possibilities of promotion for musicians between 1711 and 1740, there were four different types of musicians working in the chapel: scholars, supernumerarii, full members and retired members.5 Although Haas refers to the later era when Charles was emperor, earlier imperial Obersthofmeisteramt documents reveal that his predecessor Leopold had the same organisational system regarding the chapel.6 Scholars, as the name indicates, were young musicians of great talent who had not yet completed their musical education. Supernumerarii were professional musicians who played in the chapel but did not receive wages. They could only be appointed as full real members of the chapel and consequently be paid if one of the regular members died or retired. Sometimes these supernumerarii had to wait for years before they were officially admitted as members of the Imperial Music Chapel. For instance, in August 1700 the cello player Giuseppe Malagodi asked to be

3 In 1668, one of the most spectacular performances took place in Vienna. During the festivities celebrating the marriage of Leopold I to the Spanish infanta Margarita Teresa, the whole court attended Antonio Cesti’s opera Il Pomo d’Oro. 4 Equivalent to a Lord High Steward. 5 Maximilian Haas, Karrieremöglichkeiten in der Wiener Hofmusikkapelle während der Regentschaft Kaiser Karls VI. (1711–1740). Eine Darstellung anhand der Hofparteienprotokolle, Wien: Masters Thesis, University of Vienna, 2014, http://othes.univie.ac.at/35019, [accessed March 5, 2019]. 6 The Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv (A-Whh) in Vienna conserves the Obersthofmeisterakten (OmeA) and Obersthofmeisterprotokolle. Herwig Knaus published all the documents between 1637 and 1705. Herwig Knaus, Die Musiker im Archivbestand des kaiserlichen Obersthofmeisteramtes (1637–1705) Band 1–3, Wien: Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1967–1969.



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admitted as a full real member. As he already had been playing the violoncello at the chapel for a long time [“mit dem violoncello schon Lange zue dienen”], and was a good virtuoso [“gueter virtuoso”] his petition was finally approved.7 Full members and those who had retired earned high salaries, which could be extraordinarily high in the case of singers, both male and female. The staff consisted of German speakers and Italian musicians with a clear preference within the different groups. The maestro de capella or Kapellmeister, poets, composers, singers, and lutenists were mainly Italian. Both Italians and German speakers played the organ and in the string section, while there were only German speakers in the wind sections and as kettledrummers. The emperors Leopold I and his son Joseph I employed one maestro di capella (Antonio Draghi and Antonio Pancotti), one vice maestro de capella, and several composers (including Giovanni Battista Bononcini and Johann Joseph Fux) to provide the court with new compositions for both secular performances and church music. As a permanent staff was based at the chapel, the productions were all made in Vienna, and there was usually no need to search for composers from outside the court to perform operas for big occasions like weddings, birthday, and name day celebrations for the imperial couple. The maestro di capella and the court composers supplied almost all the compositions for the court—not only for the secular genres, but also for sacred music. The court also employed a permanent stage designer, Lodovico Ottavio Burnacini, who held the position during Leopold and Joseph’s reign until his death in 1707. Although the number of musical performances and therefore also the number of members of the music chapel increased during the regencies of Leopold I and his two sons, it seems that changes within the organisation of the music chapel at the Habsburg court between 1658 and 1740 seem to have occurred very slowly. However, Charles’s Spanish “adventure” reveals that the court members were also able to react immediately if the situation required it. Once Charles had established his court at Barcelona, it was necessary to provide—at very short notice—the Catalan court with a professional music chapel that could ensure musical entertainment, and so they had to use other strategies to achieve this.

7 Knaus 1967–1969 (as fn. 6), Vol. III, p. 87–88. Fol. 37v+38r (Prot. 6 fol. 50v+51r, sine loco 23.08.1700. “Gioseppe Maria Malagodi Bittet allerunterthänigst, in dienst, alß musicus, auffgenohmen Zu werden. Weilln er die gnad habe, mit dem violoncello schon Lang zue dienen. Der Capellmeister ist der Mäinung, Wann Ewer Kayl: May: dieses instrument Bey dero music instroduciren wollen, gleich wie dan selbiges aniezo so Wohl auffm theatro, alß in der Cammer, auch in der Kirch(en) Viel gebraucht Wird, daß der Supplicant nicht zu praeteriren Were, Weillen er ein gar gueter virtuoso sey, Unndt schon Lange Jahr gedient habe: auff Welchen fall demselbn dreysig Thaler zur monathl:r Besoldung außgeworffen werdn Könten.”





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The organisation of the chapel and recruitment of the musicians in Barcelona Charles had grown up in this musical environment in Vienna and had even sung and played in several court performances. He was eighteen when he left the court in September 1703 and went to Spain to fight against the Bourbon king Philip V for the Spanish crown. He had already begun to organise the Spanish chapel in Vienna, and he appointed Antonio Bononcini as his Compositore di Camera in 1703 for his future Spanish court.8 It was Charles’s intention to recruit more members for his Royal Music Chapel once he had established the court in Madrid. Despite Bononcini’s appointment, he only took the trumpeters and one kettledrummer with him when he left the Austrian court, because he did not need his Compositore di Camera for the journey. The journey took him more than two years and in November 1705 he arrived not in Madrid, but in Barcelona as the Catalans and the city of Barcelona had allied with the Habsburgs. This gave him the opportunity to establish his Royal Court there. However, musical life in Barcelona was completely different—not only to Madrid, but especially to Vienna, as there was no infrastructure as there was in the Imperial Court to guarantee regular musical performances. In Madrid Charles would have been able to fall back on the members of the Royal Music Chapel of the former Spanish king Charles II and later his widow Mariana de Neuburgo. After his arrival in Barcelona, his first concern was to secure his residence in Barcelona and to conquer the Spanish capital, starting his campaign from the Catalan territories. The imperial troops immediately tried to conquer Madrid between the winter of 1705 and the autumn of 1707 but as they did not succeed, Charles had to change his plans. He returned to Barcelona and finally organised a completely new music chapel. At first, the king did not need a big royal chapel, as he was not yet married to Elisabeth Christine of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel. Therefore, he only ordered more musicians for the wind section, trumpeters and oboists from Vienna between 1705 and the summer of 1707. It was only necessary to have access to a large number of trumpeters and kettledrummers to ensure a spectacular entry into the conquered cities.9 Later on, once the arrangements for his marriage to the German princess had been finalised, Charles ordered his staff—among others the secretary Juan Antonio Romeo y Anderaz—to create a professional music chapel that could provide high level performances. Duke Anton Florian von Liechtenstein was Charles’s Obersthofmeister in Barcelona, but we cannot rely—as in Vienna—on

8 Sommer-Mathis 1996–1997 (as in fn.  1), p.  61. It is Andrea Sommer-Mathis’s great merit to have published the first thorough research about Charles’s music chapel in Barcelona based on extensive research in Viennese archives. 9 Daniele Lipp, Este es vuestro Carlos, este es vuestro Rey. Representation of Political Propaganda in Musical Life at the Habsburg Court in Barcelona during the War of Spanish Succession (1705–1713), in: Music in Art, Vol. XLII, no. 1–2; Spring-Fall 2017, pp. 97–108.



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Obersthofmeisteramt sources because unfortunately they cannot be found; neither in the Viennese archives, the Archivo Histórico Nacional in Madrid, nor in the so-called Fondo del Archiduque.10 We must look at other sources including the (diplomatic) correspondence of the Catalan court with Naples and Milan, and documents from the early years of the Italian-Spanish Council in Vienna.11 In particular, the documents from Milan reveal many new aspects regarding the organisation of the Catalan chapel.12 Charles wanted to quickly transfer all the musical practices (regular church music, opera performances, etc.) from his father’s Viennese court to his new royal court in Barcelona, so the court staff had to complete the organisation of the new chapel within a few months. As there was no previous musical organisation at the Catalan court, the members in charge had to improvise to some degree, and could not follow the organisational habits of the Viennese court, e.g. having supernumerarii and court composers. Why did Charles recruit musicians from Milan and Naples? Because Milan and the Kingdom of Naples had passed into his hands in 1707 after the conquest of these territories from the Bourbon enemy, and the two cities had professional musicians that also played in opera houses. Therefore, the court immediately took the opportunity to recruit new members from these conquered territories to ensure that these musicians could quickly begin working for the king. From January 1708 to 1713, the Royal Music Chapel consisted of more than 50 members. As in Vienna, Charles had one maestro di capella, Giuseppe Porsile, a young Neapolitan who had been vice maestro di capella in his hometown, and one vice maestro, the singer and composer Giulio Cavalletti. Since the 1690s the Roman soprano castrato Cavalletti had been singing in Rome, Naples, and Florence. Antonio Bononcini, who had been appointed

10 Several documents related to Charles’s residence in Barcelona were archived in the Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv in Vienna until the beginning of the 20th century, when they were transferred to Madrid where they are currently preserved in the Archivo Histórico Nacional, in the Fondo del Archiduque. There are only two documents that refer to the Catalan music chapel: a copy of a letter which enabled the bass singer Pietro Paolo Pezzoni to travel within the Italian regions, and a copy of a letter to the Viceroy of Naples about members of the Neapolitan Music Chapel that were to work for Charles in Barcelona. See Lipp 2010, (as fn. 1), p. 132. 11 I-Mas = Milan, Archivio di Stato, cartella n. 399 del Fondo Finanza Apprensioni; A-Whh = Wien, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv, Italien Spanischer Rat, Korrespondenz Neapel. 12 Deanna Lenzi, L’attività dei bolognesi Ferdinando, Alessandro e G. Carlo Sicinio Galli Bibiena in terra iberica, in: José Luis Colomer, Amadeo Serra Desfilis (eds.), España y Bolonia. Siete Siglos de relaciones artísticas y culturales, Madrid: Fundación Carolina: Centro de Estudios Europa Hispánica, 2006, pp. 293–306; Laura Bernardini, Ferdinando Galli Bibiena alla corte di Barcellona e la scenografia per la Festa della Peschiera, in: Quaderns d’Italià 14 (2009), pp. 131–158; Laura Bernardini, Teatro e musica a Barcellona alla corte di Carlo III d’Asburgo, in: Recerca musicològica XIX (2009), pp. 199–227. Deanna Lenzi and Laura Bernardini published the first papers on this valuable source from Milan. A more detailed research of these documents together with a comparison with other sources in Vienna reveal many new and important facts that provide us with wider knowledge about the organisation of musical life in Barcelona.





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as royal composer for Charles in Vienna, never travelled to Spain. The members in charge hired all the wind section musicians from Vienna and recruited the singers and string section musicians—about twenty members—from all over the Italian peninsula, but mostly from the new Habsburg territories of Milan and Naples. Most of them arrived at the Catalan court at around the same time, between the autumn of 1707 and the autumn of 1708. These two cities not only supplied the court with professional musicians: as the war was very expensive, Charles also ordered that Milan and the Kingdom of Naples must contribute financially to the expensive musical diversions of his court. However, the recruitment of Neapolitan musicians for the Royal Music Chapel in Barcelona was not completely new. Charles reintroduced a connection that the former king Charles II and his wife Mariana had also maintained with the Royal Music chapel of the Kingdom of Naples.13 Naples sent Giuseppe Porsile, male singers like Vincenzo Campi (tenor), Gasparo Corvo (bass) and Carlo Menga (soprano) and instrumentalists for the string section like Domenico d’Apuzzo, Angelo Ragazzi and Antonio Rayola to Barcelona. The lutenist Domenico Sarao, who became mentally ill and had to be sent back home, was also Neapolitan. Three female singers— Elena Marani, Angelica Reparini and an unknown “virtuosa di musica”14—received their appointment to work at Charles’s court in Milan, together with Pietro Antonio Stroppa and the bass singers Antonio Bigoni and Pietro Paolo Pezzoni. Pezzoni had worked in northern Italy since 1702 and he travelled together with his wife and an escort to Genoa and then by ship to Barcelona.15 Comparing the different nationali­ ties of the members of the Royal Chapel and the Viennese Imperial Chapel, we can observe many similarities, yet one difference. The singers, the string section musicians, and the lutenist were Italians, and the members of the wind section—as in Vienna—came from the Holy Roman Empire,16 but Charles also appointed two local singers from the Spanish peninsula: the Catalan soprano Joan Vicens, possibly to the position of a scholar for performances in church, and the Valencian contralto Joan Lluís Miralles.17 The terms of employment in the two cities differed widely, however. The chapel in Barcelona had no supernumerarii and only a few scholars because it had to be able to produce music performances quickly. As the chapel existed only between 1708 and 1713, it had no retired members. The documents therefore reveal that all musicians immediately became members of the Royal Chapel and conse-

13 Nicolás A. Solar-Quintes, Músicos de Mariana de Neoburgo y de la Real Capilla de Nápoles, in: Anuario Musical Vol XI (1956), pp. 165–193. 14 I-Mas, cartella n. 399 del Fondo Finanza Apprensioni. 15 I-Mas, cartella n. 399 del Fondo Finanza Apprensioni. 16 For a complete list of all the members of the Royal Music Chapel, see Lipp 2017 (as fn. 1), pp. 40–46. 17 Miralles had been working in Barcelona since 1705, as we know from documents at the Notary Archive in Barcelona. Lipp 2010, (as fn. 1), p. 59. Joan Vicens may have been a choirboy in one of the city’s churches. The sources concerning his death in Vienna in 1739 (see fn. 20) specified his age at 41 years. Therefore he was about 15 years old when he left Barcelona in 1713.



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quently received their wages from the beginning of their employment.18 This implies that the musicians did not have any adaptation phase, as was the case in Vienna, to get to know each other. Communication and cooperation were probably complicated due to the musicians’ different native languages, although we cannot rely on any documents that prove this assumption. The chapel operated regularly until the spring of 1711 when, following the sudden death of the young emperor Joseph in Vienna, Charles could no longer stay in his royal residence in Barcelona. As the only living male heir of the Habsburg dynasty, he had to travel immediately to Frankfurt for his coronation as emperor. The alliances between the opponents changed and finally Charles had to abandon the Spanish territories to his adversary, the Bourbon Philip V. Charles left Barcelona in September 1711 and took with him some musicians, trumpeters and the kettledrummer. The queen stayed in Spain until March 1713; she then travelled to Vienna with her entourage, including the members of the chapel. She arrived in the Austrian territories in the summer of 1713, before dismissing all the members of the chapel.19

Changing alliances and their impact on the lives of the members of the Royal Music Chapel: Angelo Ragazzi, a case study The changing alliances during the Spanish War of Succession and the eventual outcome affected not only Charles’s life, but also the lives of the staff—and especially of the musicians—that had been working at the Catalan court. The German speaking musicians, together with their patron, had travelled to Spain with the expectation that they would spend their lives in Madrid, as the residence in Barcelona was intended to be temporary. The unexpected death of Joseph I and the changing of alliances within the European powers altered Charles’s plans radically, and so they had to return to their home country. After returning to Vienna in 1713, they could view their stay in Barcelona as a long journey with their monarch and therefore had not had to adapt permanently to a different style of life, with an unknown culture and unfamiliar languages. However, the situations of the two Catalan/Valencian singers and the Italians musicians were completely different. Joan Lluís Miralles and Joan Vicens had— because of the establishment of the royal court in Barcelona—a unique opportunity to work for a monarch. In 1713, they decided to follow the queen to Vienna, possibly for

18 The sources reveal however that the money did not always arrive on time, especially from Naples, and so the members were constantly in financial difficulties. 19 Sommer-Mathis 1996–1997 (as fn. 1). p. 52.





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three reasons: strategic, artistic, and financial. They had to consider that once Barcelona came under the control of Philip V, the Bourbon troops would consider them to be enemies and therefore arrest them. Furthermore, at Charles’ court they had for five years been part of a professional music chapel that had performed all kinds of genres of music at a very high artistic level, and it is likely that they wanted to continue at this level, which would have been impossible if they had stayed in Barcelona. Finally, they had been receiving high wages, which would have been reduced considerably if they had stayed in Barcelona and instead worked for one of the churches. The opportunity to continue as musicians in the Imperial Music Chapel in Vienna must have been therefore very attractive, and so they decided to leave their native country to take this important step in their artistic careers.20 What the Italians did next differed considerably. Only one of the Italians who had migrated from Milan joined the queen’s entourage’s journey to Vienna. The bass singer Antonio Bigoni stayed in Vienna until 1721, when he asked to return to Milan.21 Pietro Paolo Pezzoni left Barcelona together with his wife. For a while he worked in the north of Italy, and so did not join the Imperial Music Chapel until 1715.22 The Neapolitans had the option to return to their native city, but the whole group decided to accompany Elisabeth Christine on her return to Vienna. The numerous advantages of working in the Imperial Music Chapel (high wages, new artistic challenges, and a higher social profile) may have influenced their decision. To highlight how the course of the war had completely changed some of the musicians’ life trajectories, I focus on one musician: the Neapolitan violinist and composer Angelo Ragazzi (*1680, Naples †1750, Vienna). Over more than four decades, his life underwent several profound changes, first due to the Spanish War of Succession and later on because of the different rulers of Naples. Angelo Ragazzi was born in Naples in 1680. He studied the violin at the Conservatorio di Santa Maria di Loreto. In 1704 he became a member of the Neapolitan Royal Chapel. In 1707, the Habsburg troops occupied Naples and the kingdom came under Habsburg dominion. When Charles ordered the viceroy of Naples to send him musicians for his new chapel, Angelo Ragazzi left his hometown together with Porsile, Menga, Campi, Corvo, and d’Apuzzo. We know a few curious details about their journey from Naples

20 Miralles and Vicens left Barcelona in 1713 and travelled with Elisabeth Christine’s entourage to Vienna. Charles reemployed them in Vienna. Miralles returned to Valencia in 1726 and Vicens stayed in Vienna until his death in 1739. As the Viennese sources always refer to him as Giovanni Vicenzi or Vincenzi, he was considered Italian rather than Catalan. Joan Vicens died in Vienna on April 8, 1739. A-Wstm = Vienna, Sankt Michael Pfarrarchiv, Sterbebuch = register of death 1734–1745, fol. 275. Wiener Diarium, April 11, 1739, p. 7. A-Whh, Abhandlungen: 4719. The files concerning his inheritance dated his death on April 7, 1739. 21 A-Whh, OmeA, Box 18, fol. 28–29. 22 Pezzoni sang in the intermezzi of the dramma per musica L’ amore politico e generoso della regina Ermengarda in Mantua in spring 1713. Claudio Sartori, I libretti italiani a stampa dalle origini al 1800. Catalogo analitico con 16 indici, Cuneo: Bertola & Locatelli Editori, 1990–1994, Nr. 1725.



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to Barcelona. The musicians travelled in a tartane, a small single mast ship. The trip lasted 40 days and, as it was autumn, the sea was tempestuous.23 In 1708 they arrived with the intention of staying in Barcelona for some time, and then to moving on to Madrid. After Charles’s departure in 1711, the Neapolitan remained in Barcelona until 1713. Ragazzi had to choose between returning to his home country or travelling to a completely unknown “world”, the Viennese court. He decided to travel to Vienna, as all the other Neapolitans had, and chose to be readmitted to Charles’s Imperial Music Chapel. His residence in Vienna lead him also to a change in his private life. In the summer of 1719, he married Faustina Giulia Malagodi,24 the widow of the late violoncellist Giuseppe Malagodi, who had died in February 1719 at the age of 45.25 The musician stayed in Vienna until 1722 and then, at the age of 42, he asked to return to his hometown because of his declining health. The emperor allowed him to leave the court under the condition that he must play in the Neapolitan Royal Chapel. He received half of his salary as pension, 540 florins.26 A letter of entreaty—until now

23 A-Whh, Ital. Spanischer Rat Neapel Korrespondenz, Box 1, fol. 725f. “Si fa piena, et indubitata Fede q[ue] noi sottoscritti Musici della R[ea]l Camera e Cappella del Re’ N.S. / Dio g[uar]di /et altri Napolitani venuti in questa Corte di Barcellona con la Tartana di Padron Nicoló Riemma da Napoli, qualmente Rocco Visconte con livrea dell’ Ill[ustr]e Marchese di Rofrano imbarcato in Napoli p[er] uno di quelli che dovevano aver Cura, e governo de’ Cavalli, che detto Ill[ustr]e Marchese mandò con la med[esi]ma tartana a S.M. p[er] il di Lei R[ea]l Servigio, non solo accudi p[er] tutto il viaggio, che fù di quaranta giorni con tutta attenzione, e fatica alla Sua incumbenza, ma di vantagio, essendosi p[er] strada gravem[en]te infermato il Cocchiere Todesco, che veniva con d[et]ti Cavalli, il medes[i]mo Rocco, con tutta l’umana Carità accudì, e servì anche a lui, non lasciando p[er]ò mai il Servigio de cavalli, a Segno, che p[er] la verità può dirsi che, p[er] la di lui assistenza il Cocchiere venne vivo in q[ue]sta Corte, e li Cavalli illesi di qualche danno, che poteva loro accadere, e p[er] la lunghezza del Viaggio, e p[er] li tempi tempestosi in esso occorsi, ne q[u]ali,come saprè [sic?], il d[et]to Rocco adempì assai bene le parti della sua obligazione. E p[er] esser la verità n’abbiamo fatta la pres[en]te sottos[cri]tta di n[ost]re prop[ri]e mani acciò Costì dove Convenga. Barcellona 12. Mag. 1708 ______ Gius[epp]e Cesare fo fede come sop[r]a Io Giuseppe Porsile M[aestr]o di Cap[el]la di S.M. fo fede ut sup[r]a Carlo Menga Soprano di Sua Maestà, che Dio guarda, fò fede ut sup[r]a D. Vincenzo Campi Tenore di S. M. che D. G. fò fede ut sup[r]a D. Gaspare Corvo Basso di S.M. che D.G. fò fede ut sup[r]a Angelo Ragazzi fò fede ut sup[r]a Dom[eni]co Catucci f fede ut sup[r]a Dom[eni]co d’Apuzzo fo fede ut supra Secondino Porsile fò fede, como di sopra” 24 A-Wd = Sankt Stephan Dompfarre, Trauungsbuch = wedding book, 1718–1720, fol. 240. 25 A-Wstm, Sterbebuch, 1707–1721, fol.  903. Wiener Diarium, February 25, 1719, p.  8. List of the deceased: “Joseph Malagoti / Kaiserl. Musicus / in der Karntnerstraße / alt 45. Jahr.” 26 A-Whh, OmeA Box 14, fol. 343r–344v. I would like to thank Andrea Sommer-Mathis for this source.





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unknown - reveals more details about Ragazzi’s life in Italy between 1722 and 1742.27 He lived with his wife in Naples until the Spaniards invaded the city [“bis endlich die Spanier aldorten eingedrungen”]. The Bourbon Spanish army conquered Naples and Sicily during the War of Polish Succession. As Ragazzi received an imperial pension from Vienna, the Spanish authorities considered him an enemy. After being imprisoned for a short time, he had to leave Naples in April 1735. He stayed in Rome from 1735 until January 1742. This explains why his only printed work, a collection of Sonate a quattro with a dedication to the emperor Charles VI, was published in 1736 in Rome.28 In view of his insecure future, he tried to re-establish his professional ties to the Imperial Court, dedicating his composition to his former patron. After his

27 The Viennese court kept files after the death of the members of the imperial household, in which all the matters concerning their inheritance were settled. The files between 1749 and 1763 were lost. As Ragazzi died in 1750, we do not have his file. His entreating letter from 1742 was erroneously put in the file of an employee with the same name, who had died in 1721. A-Whh, Abhandlungen, Nr. 2258. unfol. “Durchleüchtig= Hochgebohrner Reichs=Fürst Gnädigster Herr O: H: M: Solte Euer Durchl: un verhalten, und ist es ohne deme offentlich kund=bahr, welchergestalten da ich die allerhöchste Ehre genossen, S:r Röm: Kay: und König: Cath. May: allerChristmildesten Andenckens:/ in dero hof Capellen allerunterthst zu bedienen, aller=höchst dieselben wegen meiner angehaltenen indisposition mir die allergütigste Jubillation, um nacher Neapl mein Vatterland mit diesem Beysatz revertiren zu können, verlihen, daß ich aldorten meinen Käy: dienst in dortiger König. Capellen Continuiren solle, wie es auch geschehen, bis endlich die Spanier aldorten eingedrungen, und mich aldorten gleich als Suspectum wegen aufhabender Kay: Jubillation in Verhafft ge=setzet, und folglich in April deß 1735.ten Jahrs gar von Neapl abgeschaffet haben, alwo ich mich samt meiner EheConsortin Faustina Julia in erster Ehe geweste Malagodi in Rom bis anhero auf=gehalten, welche endlich endlich [sic!] in Xb : deß lezt verblichenen Jahrs eben in selbiger Stadt nach außgestandener langer Kranckheit dieses zeitliche geseegnet. Die mein Liebgeweste Ehewürtin hat in ihrem aldort in Rom im Xbri 1741 errichteten, und nach meiner anherokunfft vor Eüer Durchl: dem 22. ten dito Monats May publicirten Testament A: welches ich in gewöhnlicher Canzley abschriefft unterth: beyschliesse mich unterthsten Supplicanten locis Subductis, weillen sie weder in primis votis nochmit mir Kinder erzeiget, zu ihrem vol Erben eingesetzet, und alles jenes mir verlassen hat, waß Sie immer in Eigenthum, oder in Anforde=rungs quotis, und unter diesen Specialiter fl. 4000. in allhiesiger Stadt Banco, welche Verlassenschafft dann ich eben Simpliciter Sine beneficio legis, et Inventary hiemit annehme, und anmit Gelangt an Eüer Durchl: mein Gehors: Bitten dieser meiner Simpliciter Sine beneficio legis, et Inventary gethaner Erbs Erklärung protocol=lando zu gedencken, und 2do wegen anderweitenAbhandlung dieser Sachen die gdste Auflaag an seine Behörde ergehen zu lassen. Mich zu gdster Gewehr empfehl. Eüer Durchl: unterth: Gehors: Angelo Ragazzi O: H: M: Gehor: Erbs Erklärung Sine beneficio legis, et In=Ventarij nebst unterthsten Bitten Anglei Ragazzi hof= und Cammer Violinisten pres. 29 may 1742”. 28 Elisabeth Theresia Hilscher, Kontrapunkt für den Kaiser Angelo Ragazzis Messen für Karl VI, in: Studien zur Musikwissenschaft 49 (2002), pp. 173–183.



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 Danièle Lipp

wife’s death in December 1741, he left Rome to return to Vienna in order to inherit the 4000 florins she had left in the Viennese city bank.29 As Charles VI had died in 1740, Ragazzi could no work any longer in the Imperial Music Chapel. He died in Vienna on 12 October 1750.30 The course of Ragazzi’s life changed completely because of the changing circumstances, and he and his colleagues had to face great professional and personal challenges. These musicians had to migrate to unknown countries, leaving their families behind, dealing with a new language and with different styles of life at the Imperial Court. Nevertheless, the advantages seem to have prevailed: they were able to work with talented musicians and composers, earned substantial wages, and they almost all had a considerable fortune when they died.

29 See also Paologiovanni Maione, Tra le carte della diplomazia napoletana: la musica e il teatro “viaggianti” nell’Europa del Settecento, http://www.enbach.eu/en/content/tra-le-carte-delladiplomazia-napoletana-la-musica-e-il-teatro-viaggianti-nelleuropa-del [accessed February 15, 2019]. 30 A-Wd, Sterbebuch, 1747–1750, fol. 296. Wiener Diarium, October 14, 1750, p. 8.



Authors Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira. Currently appointed the Ramón y Cajal Fellow in the Art History department of the Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia (Madrid), Pilar completed her PhD on Classical Art. She has devoted her research equally to the Classical Tradition and 18th century art. She has published widely in international journals (The Burlington Magazine, Storia dell’Arte, Ostraka, etc) and recently edited a volume for the Oxford University Studies in the Enlightenment series, entitled Politics and the Arts in Lisbon and Rome: The Roman Dream of John V of Portugal (2019). Her current research is focused on Portuguese and Spanish cultural identities, artistic mobility and diplomacy in Rome in the 18th century. Anna Lisa Schwartz is an art historian and academic librarian working for the Specialised Information Service for Historical Studies in the Bavarian State Library. Her research focuses on Dutch and German prints, books and medals from the 16th to 18th century, cultural history and early modern festivals. She joined a project on Representation of Peace in Pre-Modern Europe at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg and is currently finishing her PhD about Stadtholder William IV of Orange and national identity in the 18th century Dutch Republic. She is also interested in Digital Humanities and investigates Text Mining as a tool for the analysis of early modern artist biographies. Iris Haist completed her academic studies in Art History, Archaeology and the Science of Religions at the University of Heidelberg. Her thesis was an iconologic analysis of Iris—messagère des dieux by Auguste Rodin. Her Ph.D. was a monographic study on the late Roman Baroque sculptor, Pietro Bracci, and the sculptures of his time. After working as a curatorial assistant at the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, her posts have included the temporary curatorship of the Graphic Arts Collection at the Art Collections Chemnitz, a scientific and curatorial assistantship at the Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, and head of collections of the LETTER Stiftung, Cologne. She now serves as the leading scholar of the Erich Ohser—e.o.plauen Stiftung. Francisco Zamora Rodríguez. Post-doctoral researcher since 2014 at the Centro de Humanidades in Lisbon (CHAM  – FCSH/NOVA-UAç) investigating the relationships between Mediterranean and Atlantic trade, he has also been PI of the FCT “Global Cities” theme. His scientific interests focus on the analysis of imperial systems, the consular institution and trade networks during the early modern period. He was awarded first prize by the Spanish Foundation of Early Modern History (2012) and by the Associação Portuguesa de História Económica e Social (2014). He has completed several stays as visiting researcher at different international research centers such as the RCC Harvard University, Casa de Velázquez, Università di Pisa and Universidad San Carlos de Guatemala.

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 Authors

Philippa Woodcock. Lecturer in European History at UHI, Philippa focuses on Franco-Italian interchange in the early modern period and Reformation rural religious history. She was awarded the Nancy Lyman Roelker prize for the best article in sixteenth century French history in 2011 for “The Fortified Parish Church: Pacification, Protection or Provocation During the French Wars of Religion?”. Whilst her recent publications and research have focused on Franco-Venetian diplomatic history, her doctoral thesis, The Forgotten Patrons: the French Governors of Milan, 1499–1522 (2006), concerned the often overlooked French occupation of Milan. She has held postdoctoral and teaching posts in the UK and France, including at Warwick University, Oxford Brookes and the CNAM, Paris. Mar García Arenas. Assistant Professor in ​​Modern History at the University of Alicante, she was a postdoctoral fellow at the CHAM in the New University of Lisbon (CHAM – FCSH/NOVA-UAç). She has completed several stays as visiting researcher at the Universitá de la Sapienza, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, and the University of Lisbon. Her PhD thesis, The Jesuit issue in Spanish-Portuguese diplomatic relations (1759–1773), was awarded with the Luis Diez del Corral Award (2012), granted by the Center for Political and Constitutional Studies, (the Presidency of Spain). She has published articles in journals and book chapters in Spain, Italy and Portugal, as well as a monograph, Portugal y España contra los jesuitas. Las monarquías ibéricas y la Compañía de Jesús (1755–1773) (Madrid, 2014). She has also co-edited the volume, Economía, Política y Sociedad en Iberoamérica (siglos XVI–XIX): Actuales líneas de investigación histórica (Alicante, 2017). Her current research is focused on Iberian diplomatic relations; the diplomatic relations of Portugal and Spain with Rome and the crisis of the Society of Jesus in the 18th century. Lise Puyo is a Ph.D. candidate in Anthropology, examining the interactions between humans and objects. Her dissertation, titled: Negotiating between shell and paper: wampum belts as agents of religious diplomacy, focuses on the use of woven shell beads to mediate local and international relations between Indigenous North American communities and European Catholic sanctuaries. She has been a research assistant on the project “On the Wampum Trail,” directed by Dr. Margaret Bruchac at the University of Pennsylvania, investigating the materiality, significance, and provenance of wampum belts in museum collections, in collaboration with Indigenous communities. For her dissertation research, she was awarded grants from the Penn Museum, the American Philosophical Society, the Social Sciences Research Council, and the École Française de Rome. Amanda van der Drift teaches Art History in the School of Communication and Arts ​ er PhD examines the at the University of Queensland (UQ) in Brisbane, Australia. H construction of European and Ottoman identity in European works of art produced in the middle decades of the 16th century in relation to the formation of the Fran

Authors 

 159

co-Ottoman alliance. ​As an honorary research fellow at UQ, Amanda’s current project investigates costume and display in cultural context in fifteenth-century Venetian art. Danièle Lipp completed her masters degree in Musicology at the University of Vienna with a dissertation entitled Musical Life at Charles III court at Barcelona during the Spanish War of Succession (1705–1713). She has published various articles about the members of the Royal Chapel in Barcelona, e.g. their migration to the Imperial court, the circulation of musical scores between Italy, the Royal court and Vienna and about the composer Giuseppe Porsile. In her current research for her PhD she focuses on Italian members at the Imperial Music Chapel in Vienna (1712–1740), their biographies, migration and network patterns.



Picture Credits Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira, Introduction Fig. 1: © Courtesy of the Universitätbibliothek Heidelberg.

Anna Lisa Schwartz Fig. 1: Landesmuseum Württemberg, Hendrik Zwietasch; fig. 2: KHM-Museumsverband; fig. 3: Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg, Georg Janßen.

Pilar Diez del Corral Corredoira Fig. 1: © Courtesy of the Direção-Geral do Património Cultural / Arquivo de Documentação Fotográfica (DGPC/ADF) Photography by Luisa Oliveira; fig. 2: © Courtesy of the Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal.

Lise Puyo Fig. 1 and 2: Photo by Lise Puyo.

Mar García Arenas Fig. 1: Annual medal of pope Clement XIV (obverse), designed and produced in Rome. Ferdinando Hamerani. Bronze medal, d. 32,9 m., g.15,57 g. BNP Medalhas 389: Reconciliação entre Portugal e a Santa Sé Roma, 1770, Colecção da Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal/Foto:Banco de Portugal; fig. 2: Annual medal of pope Clement XIV (reverse), designed and produced in Rome. Ferdinando Hamerani. Bronze medal, d. 32,9 m., g.15,57 g. Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal, Medalhas 389: Reconciliação entre Portugal e a Santa Sé Roma, 1770, Colecção da Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal/ Foto:Banco de Portugal.

Amanda van der Drift Fig. 1: Musée d’Art et d’Histoire, Cognac. © Photographie des Musées de Cognac.

162 

 Picture Credits

Iris Haist Fig. 1: Photographer: Giovanni Rinaldi, Rome; fig. 2: Photographer: Ionut Miniosu, Bukarest; fig. 3: © Trustees of the British Museum; fig. 4: © Canadian Centre for Architecture.

Philippa Woodcock Fig. 1: © BNF Granted freely for academic use; fig. 2 and 3: © BNF.



Index Names Acquaviva, Francesco, cardinal 3, 4 Albani, Annibale, cardinal 110, 112 Alciato, Andrea 85 Almada e Mendoça, Francisco de, viscount Vila Nova de Souto d’El-Rei 78, 79, 81, 82, 86, 87, 88, 89 Anjou, Philip of 27, 145 Ana, the Spanish Infanta 7, 127 Archduke Charles 3, 6, 8, 21, 22, 23, 24, 43, 53 Arondeaux, Regnier 30 Azara, José Nicolás de 83, 86, 87, 88 Azevedo Coutinho, João Ramos de 80 Azpuru, Tomás 87, 88, 90 Barigioni, Filippo 113, 114, 121 Barzotti, Giuseppe 17 Bayezid, Ottoman sultan 97 Bernard of Clairvaux 99 Bernini, Gian Lorenzo 109 Bernis, François-Joachim de Pierre, cardinal 87, 88 Bichi, Vincenzo, nuncio 47 Bigoni, Antonio 151, 153 Blackwell, Lambert 23 Bogisbaud, Giovanni, Count of Meimbergh 15 Bononcini, Antonio 149, 150 Bononcini, Giovanni Battista 148 Botelho de Moraes e Vasconcelhos, Francisco 48 Bouvart, Martin 63, 69, 70 Bracci, Pietro 113, 114, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 157 Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, Elisabeth Christine of 33, 149 Brunet, Jean 130, 134 Brunner, Martin 32, 36, 39, 40, 41 Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, Elisabeth Christine of, (see Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel) Burnacini, Lodovico Ottavio 148 Burrow, Giovanni 17 Caetano de Sousa, Antonio 45, 50 Campi, Vincenzo 151, 153, 154 Canova, Antonio 121, 122, 123 Cappelli, Ottavio 18

Cárdenas, Don Íñigo de 136 Carvalho e Mello, Sebastião José de, Count of Oeiras and Marquis of Pombal 7, 77, 78, 79, 80, 82, 88, 89, 90 Carvalho, Paulo 80 Cast, David 86 Cavalletti, Giulio 150 Cem, Ottoman sultan 96, 97 Cesarini, Angelo 122 Charles II, King of Spain 22, 27, 149, 151 Charles II, the Bald, Holy Roman emperor 61 Charles III, King of Spain 6, 20, 21, 24, 79, 88, 145, 159 Charles V, Habsburg/Holy Roman emperor 7, 53, 93, 95, 96, 98, 99 Charles VI, Emperor 27, 29, 31, 32, 33, 36, 53, 145, 146, 155, 156 Charles VI, King of France 100 Charles VIII, King of France 97, 99 Chaumonot, Pierre-Joseph-Marie 61, 63, 70, 74 Choné, Paulette 129 Christina of Sweden 108, 112 Christofari, Pietro Paolo 116 Claude, Queen of France 104 Clovis, Frankish king 97 Comnenus, Alexius, Byzantine emperor 99 Condé, Prince de 129, 134 Constantine, Roman emperor 99 Conti, Innocenzo, Nuncio 82, 83 Corte-Real, Diogo Mendonça 53 Corvo, Gasparo 151, 153, 154 Count of Ribeira-Grande 50 Count Villa Maior 54 Cropanese, Filippo 84 D’Apuzzo, Domenico 151, 153, 154 David, King of Israel 98 De Châtillon, Claude 131, 132 De Haro, D. Luis 142 De Rochefort, Pierre Massar 142 De Rosset, François 128, 129 De Rossi, Girolamo 116 De Salcedo, Alonso 16 De Silva, Andrés 6, 16, 19, 20, 22, 24 De Silva, Michel 17

164 

 Index

De Villars, Claude-Louis-Hector 6, 31, 32, 33, 35, 39, 40 Del Borro, Alessandro 12, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19 Domenichino 53 Draghi, Antonio 148 Duke of Pastrana 136 Duke of Uceda 3, 22 Dukes of Bavaria 54 Duprà, Domenico 116 Élisabeth of Bourbon 127, 128, 136 Farnese, Elisabeth, Queen of Spain 3 Ferdinand I, Grand Duke Medici 11 Ferdinand II, emperor 54 Ferdinand VI, King of Spain 43 Fernandes de Almeida, Diogo 53 Filippo Acciaiuoli, nuncio 79 Francis I, King of France 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106 Fürer von Haimendorf VII, Christoph 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40 Fürst, Paulus 40 Fux, Johann Joseph 148 Gaiaenhinnon, Paule 65 Ganganelli, Lorenzo (see Pope Clement XIII) George August Frederick, later George IV, King of England 122 Giannelli, Carlo Antonio 25 Ginori, Niccolò 13 Haas, Maximilian 147 Hamerani, Ferdinando 83, 84, 161 Hamerani, Ottone 50, 84, 114 Harrewyn,Théodore André 51 Harrewyn, François 51, 52, 53, 54 Henry IX, King of France 122 Hermenne, Stefano 6, 20, 21, 23 Hofman, Johann 38 Hugon, Alain 123, 135 Isabel of Orleans 3 Isselburg, Pieter 39 James II, King of England 107, 108, 122 James III, Stuart 107, 108, 109, 112, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123 James IV of Scotland (see James III) Jesus de Nazaret 68, 69, 72, 102, 103, 105, 106 John V, King of Portugal 6, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 53, 157 Joseph I, Emperor 146, 147, 148, 152 Joseph I, King of Portugal 43, 77, 79, 82, 86 Ketteler, Engelbert 51

Lanfredini, Giacomo, cardinal 117 Lauffer, Caspar Gottlieb 36, 38, 40 Leopold I, Emperor 50, 145, 146, 147, 148 Liechtenstein, Duke Anton Florian of 149 Loof, Johannes 51 Louis IX, King of France 97, 99 Louis VII, King of France 99 Louis XII, King of France 98, 99 Louis XIII, King of France 7, 127, 128, 129, 130,134, 141, 142 Louis XIV, King of France 27, 28, 29, 32, 33, 36, 49, 107, 142, 145 Louis XV, King of France 3, 43 Luis, Prince of Asturias 3 Luti, Benedetto 47 Macedonio, Vincenzo 87, 88 Malagodi, Faustina Giulia 154 Malagodi, Giuseppe 147, 148, 154, 155 Malagrida, Gabriel 80 Mansfield, Lisa 93 Marani, Elena 151 Marchionni, Carlo 117 Marchis of Fontes, D. Rodrigo de Sá e Meneses 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 54 Marguerite of Valois, French princess, Queen of Navarre and France 104 María Bárbara de Braganza, Queen of Spain 43 Maria de’Medici, Regent of France 128 Maria Francisca of Bourbon 3 Maria Luisa of Savoy 3 Maria Theresa, Holy Roman Empress 27 Mariana of Neuburgo, queen-consort of Spain 149, 151 Mariana Victoria of Bourbon 3, 43 Marteau, François 49 Martel, Charles 98 Mary of Modena 107 Masucci, Agostino 108 Matilda of Canossa, Countess of Tuscany 108, 109, 112 Maxentius, Roman emperor 99 Mazarin, Jules Raymond, cardinal 142 Memhed II, the Conqueror, Ottoman sultan 97 Menestrier, Claude-François 32, 49 Menga, Carlo 151, 153, 154 Mengin, Antoine 49, 50 Miller, Samuel 88 Miralles, Joan Lluís 151, 152, 153 Miron, Robert 140



Index 

Molines, Antonio 3 Moñino, José, Count of Floridablanca 90 Morel, Horace 133, 134, 135, 136, 141 Muratori, Domenico Maria 115, 116 Murray, James, Earl of Dunbar 109 Napoleon 122 Nassau 134 Negelein, Joachim 34 Nürnberger, Georg Friedrich 32, 39, 40, 41 Orsini, Domenico, cardinal 87 Ovid, Publio 128, 136, 138 Pancotti, Antonio 148 Paradisi, Domenico 4, 5, 6 Pezzoni, Pietro Paolo 150, 151, 153 Philip IV, King of Spain 127 Philip the Bold, King of France 97 Phillip II of Orleans, Regent of France 3 Phillip II, King of France 99 Phillip V, King of Spain 3, 4, 6, 46 Pope Benedict XIII 109 Pope Benedict XIV 112, 114, 121 Pope Clement XI 107, 108, 121 Pope Clement XII 110 Pope Clement XIII 78, 79, 81, 87, 113, 118, 121 Pope Clement XIV 7, 77, 81, 82, 83, 84, 86, 87, 88, 90, 161 Pope Innocent XII 89 Pope Leo X 93, 99, 101 Pope Pius VII 122 Pope Urban II 99 Pope Urban VIII 89 Porsile, Giuseppe 150, 151, 153, 154, 159 Posi, Paolo 117 Pozzi, Rocco 114 Prince Eugene of Savoy 6, 31, 32, 33, 35, 39, 40 Puget de la Serre, Jean 128, 138, 139 Ragazzi, Angelo 145, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156 Rayola, Antonio 151 Reparini, Angelica 151 Reverchon, Pauline 93 Rezzonico, Carlo della Torre di (see Pope Clement XIII) Ricci, Lorenzo 78



 165

Ripa, Cesare 46, 85 Romeo y Anderaz, Juan Antonio 149 Rudolph II, Holy Roman Emperor 54 Sacchi, Andrea 53 Saint John, the Baptist 7, 93, 94, 99, 102, 103, 105, 106 Salvoni, Giangiuseppe 118 Salvoni, Gioacchino 118 Sarao, Domenico 151 Signorelli, Luca 85 Soares da Silva, Joseph 53 Sobieska, Maria Clementina 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 121, 123 Sobieski, Jakub Ludwik, crown prince 107, 108, 122 Stern, Ludovico 116 Stroppa, Pietro Antonio 151 Stuart, Charles Edward 108, 121, 122 Stuart, Henry Benedict, Cardinal Duke of York 108, 122 Stuart, James Francis Edward (see King James III of England and James IV of Scotland) Suleiman I, the Magnificent, Ottoman sultan 7, 93, 95, 96, 101 Taondechorend, Louis 70, 71, 73 Telephorus of Cosenza 100 Telesko, Werner 30, 32 Thiessen, Hillard 29 Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista 85 Trevisani, Francesco 47 Valesio, Francesco 109, 117 Van der Meulen, Pieter 128 Venuti, Rudolfo 117 Vestner, Georg Wilhelm 30, 36, 38 Vicens, Joan 151, 152, 153 Vieira Lusitano, Francisco de Matos 43, 44, 45, 47, 50 Von Stieler, Kaspar 38 Voragine, Jacobus de 102 Weigert, Roger-Armand 130, 138 Wheley, Giacomo 6, 23, 24 Will, Georg Andreas 34 Wollenschneider, Rainer 38

166 

 Index

Places Angoulême 105 Atri 4 Augsburg 34 Austria 27, 33, 34 Aveiro 82 Badajoz 43 Baden 35, 36, 37, 38, 40 Barcelona 6, 8, 21, 25, 145, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 159 Beja 82 Bidasoa, river 3, 128 Bologna 78, 93, 99 Braganza 43 46, 51, 82, 86 Cádiz 12 Caia, river 43 Canada 6, 57, 62, 70, 71 Canada, Huron-Wendat Museum, Wendake, QC 66, 68, 73 Castelo Branco 82 Charente, river 105 Chartres 6, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75 Cognac, France 93, 94, 105, 161 Dinant 60, 70, Egypt 104 Elvas 43 England 7, 24, 27, 81, 107, 108, 117, 121, 122, 123 Évora, Museu de Évora 45, 46, 49, 51 Florence 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 24, 150 France 3, 4, 7, 27, 31, 53, 57, 77, 81, 88, 93, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 104, 107, 114, 122, 127, 128, 131, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 142, 143, 158 Frankfurt 152 Genoa 12, 21, 22, 23, 24, 151 Hague 53 Holy Land 70, 93, 99, 100, 106 Holy Roman Empire 27, 53, 145, 146, 151 Island of Pheasants 3 Israel 98 Jerusalem 99, 100 Kingdom of the Two Sicilies 77 Lilienfeld 34 Lisbon 13, 43, 44, 46, 47 49, 50, 53, 54, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 85, 87, 88

Lisbon, Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga 44, 45 Lisbon, Royal Academy of Portuguese History 49, 53 Lisbon, Tower of Belem 48 Livorno 6, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 Loreto 60, 70, 71, 73, 153 Lorette (Canada) 57, 65, 66, 68, 69 Madrid 20, 22, 45, 47, 54, 78, 81, 93, 103, 145, 149, 150, 152, 154 Madrid, Archivo Histórico Nacional 150 Madrid, Museo del Prado 45, 46 Mantua 146 Metz 15 Milan 19, 101, 150, 151, 153 Monteviale 85 Nantes 140 Naples 19, 27, 97, 99, 101, 108, 150, 151, 153, 155 Navarre 131 Netherlands 27, 142 Nijmegen 29, 38 North Africa 104 Nuremberg 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 54 Orbitelo 16 Orvieto 85 Papal States 77, 84 Paris 3, 50, 60, 100, 101, 127, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 150 Paris, Académie Royale 32 Paris, parish of Vaugirard 138 Paris, parliament 101 Paris, place de Grève 131, 133, 136 Paris, place Royale 128, 136 Parma, Duchy 77 Penhafiel 82 Pinhel 82 Pisa 11, 12, 13, 14, 17 Portugal 6, 7, 43, 45, 47, 48, 49, 51, 52, 53, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90 Pyrenees 8, 27, 127, 128, 129, 138, 141, 142 Rastatt 6, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40



Index 

Rome 3, 4, 7, 12, 13, 22, 23, 37, 46, 47, 48, 49, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 86, 87, 88, 99, 100, 107, 108, 109, 110, 116, 117, 123, 150, 155, 156 Rome, Church of SS. Apostoli 107, 110, 112 Rome, Convent of S. Cecilia 109, 112, 116, 123 Rome, Palazzo di Spagna 3 Rome, Palazzo Muti (now Palazzo Balestra), known at the time as Palazzo del Re 108 Rome, Piazza di Spagna 4 Rome, Via del Corso 109 Ryswick 29, 30, 38 Saint-Germain-en-Laye 134 Sardinia 27

 167

Seine, river 128, 131 Sicily 27, 155 Spain 3, 4, 6, 7, 21, 23, 24, 27, 43, 51, 53, 78, 81, 89, 93, 98, 108, 127, 128, 135, 136, 137, 138, 145, 149, 151, 152 Tagus, river 48, 128 Toulouse 99 Utrecht 28, 29, 31, 40, 43, 50 Vatican, St. Peter’s Basilica 107, 108, 110, 113, 118, 121, 123 Venice 100 Vienna 8, 23, 33, 36, 37, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156 Wendake 66, 68, 73

Others Anti-Jesuitism 77, 87, 140 Battle of Matapán 50 Battle of Pavia 93, 95, 100 Battle of Tours 98 Bon françois 129, 135, 140, 142 Carrousel of 1612 127 Charlemagne prophecy 100 Commissaire-ordinaire of the artillery 136 Compositore di Camera 149 Concordat of Bologna 93 Concordiae triumphum 51 Congress of Cambrai (1720–1725) 48 Conjunctio 32, 35, 37 Conseiller d’etat 140 Dexiosis 4, 6, 32 Dextrarum iunctio 37 Diario di Roma 109 Diario ordinario di Chracas 114 Échevins 131, 140, 141, 142 El Alphonso 47 El espía mayor, title 135 Engraver General of Medals and Coin Dies of the Kingdom 49 Ereignismedaillen 33 Estates General 129, 140 Fête de Saint-Louis 130, 133, 141 Feu de la Saint-Jean 129, 131, 132, 134, 140 Franco-Ottoman alliance 7, 93, 96 General Church Council, of France 100, 101 General Inquisitor 80



Grand Alliance 27 Hispanic monarchy 22, 77 Hispano-Batavian peace treaties 51 Hispano-Portuguese Double Weddings 44, 50, 52 Hispanophobia 7, 135, 137, 141, 142 História Genealógica da Casa Real Portuguesa 50 Holy Ampulla 97 Holy Land 70, 93, 99, 100, 106 Holy See 3, 79, 80, 81, 82, 88, 101 Holy War 99, 101 Hôtel de Ville 7, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134, 137, 141, 142 House of Bourbon 46, 77, 81, 90 House of Braganza 46, 86 House of Valois 93, 105 Huron-Wendat 6, 57, 66, 68, 73 Imperial Music Chapel 146, 147, 153, 154, 156 In Specula Suprema Dignitatis, brief, 1758 78 Index of forbidden books 80 Jacobite Rising in 1715 107 Jacobites 7, 108 Janus, Temple of 30 Jesuits 60, 62, 63, 65, 69, 71, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 86, 87, 90 Knights of Saint John 99 Knights Templar 99 L’Histoire métallique 28

168 

 Index

Law of expulsion of the Society of Jesus from Portuguese dominions, 1759 79 Maestro di capella = Kapellmeister 148, 150 Mercure François 127, 129 Metamorphoses 128, 136, 142 Mirabilis libre 100 Obersthofmeister 147, 149, 150 Ottoman empire 92, 95, 96, 102, 105 Pax veneta 54 Peace of Westphalia 51 Pegnesischer Blumenorden 34 Plus ultra 4 Pragmatic Sanction of Bruges 100 Prévôt des marchands de Paris 140 Princesses’ exchange 54 Principal of the Patriarchal Church 53

Real Mesa Censória 80, 82 Republic of Letters 47 Restauration 43 Seljuk, Turks 99 Society of Jesus 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 87, 88, 89, 90 Spanish party 4 Spekulationsmedaillen 33 Treaty of Fontainebleau 127 Treaty of Madrid 103 Treaty of Rastatt and Baden 36, 37 Treaty of the Pyrenees 27, 142 Treaty of Utrecht 31, 40, 43, 50 Treaty of Westphalia 29 War of the Spanish Succession 27, 28, 30, 31