Princely Funerals in Europe, 1400-1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda (European Festival Studies: 1450-1700) 9782503587431, 2503587437

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Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700

European Festival Studies: 1450–1700 Founding Editor J. R. Mulryne, Uni­ver­sity of Warwick, UK

Series Editors Margaret Shewring, Uni­ver­sity of Warwick, UK Margaret M. McGowan, CBE, FBA, Uni­ver­sity of Sussex, UK Marie-Claude Canova-Green, Uni­ver­sity of London (Goldsmiths), UK

Publications Advisory Board Maria Ines Aliverti, Uni­ver­sity of Pisa, Italy; Sydney Anglo, FBA, FSA, Uni­ver­sity of Wales, UK; Richard Cooper, Uni­ver­sity of Oxford, UK; Noel Fallows, FSA, Uni­versity of Georgia, USA; Iain Fenlon, Uni­ver­sity of Cambridge, UK; Bernardo J. García García, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Spain; Maartje van Geldaer, Uni­versity of Amsterdam, Netherlands; Pieter Martens, Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Belgium; R. L. M. Morris, University of Cambridge, UK; Elaine Tierney, Research Institute, Victoria & Albert Museum, UK

This Series, in association with the Society for European Festivals Research, builds on the current surge in interest in the circumstances of European Festivals – their political, religious, social, economic, and cultural implications, as well as the detailed analysis of their performance (including ephemeral architecture, sceno­graphy, scripts, music and soundscape, dance, costumes, processions, and fireworks) in both indoor and outdoor locations. Festivals were interdisciplinary and, on occasion, international in scope. They drew on a rich classical heritage and developed a shared pan-European icono­graphy as well as exploiting regional and site-specific features. They played an important part in local politics and the local economy, as well as international negotiations and the conscious presentation of power, sophistication, and national identity, and sometimes in a global context. The Series, including both essay collections and mono­g raphs, seeks to analyse the characteristics of individual festivals as well as to explore generic themes. It draws on a wealth of archival documentary evidence, alongside the resources of galleries and museums, to study the historical, literary, performance, and material culture of these extravagant occasions of state.

Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700 Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda

Edited by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier

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Cover image: Brussels, Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Ship Victoria, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559).

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

© 2021, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2021/0095/108 ISBN: 978-2-503-58743-1 eISBN: 978-2-503-58744-8 DOI: 10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.119156 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper.

Table of Contents List of Illustrations

7

Acknowledgements 17 Editors and Contributors

18

Colour Plates

23

Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier Introduction. The Changing Face of Funerals (1400–1700)

39

Part I Fifteenth Century Agostino Paravicini Bagliani Chapter 1. The Funerary Rite of the Papacy at the End of the Middle Ages

47

Murielle Gaude-Ferragu Chapter 2. ‘The Body of the Prince’: Royal and Princely Funerals in Fifteenth-Century France

57

Alain Marchandisse Chapter 3. The Funerals of the Dukes of Burgundy in the Fifteenth Century

73

Joel Burden Chapter 4. English Royal Funerals in the Fifteenth Century

89

Mikhail Boytsov Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes in the Fifteenth Century

107

Maria Nadia Covini Chapter 6. Between Visconti and Sforza: Notes on the Funeral Ceremonies of the Dukes of Milan in the Fifteenth Century

123

Eva Pibiri Chapter 7. The Funerals of the Dukes of Savoy in the Fifteenth Century: Between Austerity and Splendour

141

6

ta b l e of con ten ts

Part II Sixteenth Century Marie Madeleine Fontaine Chapter 8. Funerary Rites and Mysteries held in Connection with Treatises on Ancient Funerals in Sixteenth-Century France

157

Monique Chatenet Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the Sixteenth Century 185 Giovanni Ricci Chapter 10. Double Funerals and Funeral Effigies in Italian States

209

Alain Marchandisse Chapter 11. The Funeral of Charles V

223

Part III Seventeenth Century Gérard Sabatier Chapter 12. The Funerals of Louis XIII and Louis XIV

249

Giovanni Ricci Chapter 13. Great Funerals in a Little State: Francesco I and Alfonso IV d’Este at Modena (1659 and 1663)

273

Maria Adelaida Allo Manero Chapter 14. Philip IV of Spain: Projecting Royal Majesty through Funeral Ceremonial

287

Naϊma Ghermani Chapter 15. The Funeral of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel (1632): Dynastic or Denominational Theatre?

307

Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen Chapter 16. Staging the Queen’s Funeral in Seventeenth-Century Denmark: The Case of Sophie Amalie of Brunswick-Lüneburg

327

Index 345

List of Illustrations Plates Plate I. Funeral convoy of Charles VI (1422), Jean Chartier, Chroniques du règne de Charles VII, illumination painted by Philippe de Mazerolles, Bruges, between 1470 and 1479 (BnF. Ms. fr. 2691, fol. 1).

23

Plate II. Funeral convoy of Jeanne de Bourbon (1378), Grandes Chroniques de France (copy owned by Charles V) (BnF. Ms. fr. 2813, fol. 480v).

24

Plate III. Funeral convoy of Isabeau de Bavière (1435), Martial d’Auvergne, Les Vigiles de Charles VII (BnF. Ms. fr. 5054, fol. 87).

24

Plate IV. Charles the Bold on his deathbed, in Nancy, Jean de Roye, Chronique scandaleuse, Paris, BnF. Ms. Clairambault 481 (1502), fol. 447r. 25 Plate V. The funeral of Richard II from a late fifteenth-century copy of Jean Froissart’s Chroniques. London, British Library MS Royal 18 E II fol. 416v. © British Library, London, UK © British Library Board. All Rights Reserved/Bridgeman Images.

26

Plate VI. Bonino da Campione, Equestrian monument for Bernabò Visconti (c. 1363). Milan, Museo d’arte antica del Castello sforzesco. Photo by G. Dallorto; image in the Public Domain (Wikimedia Commons).

26

Plate VII. Philibert the Handsome on his deathbed, Jean Lemaire de Belges, La Couronne margaritique (Savoy, 1504–1505), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cod. 3441, fol. 21v.

27

Plate VIII. The effigy’s chambre de parement, in Nicolas Houël, Ms. BnF. Res. Ad-105, View Gallica 21. © Source gallica bnf.fr/ BnF.

28

Plate IX. Funerals of the heart of Anne de Bretagne, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

29

Plate X. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the ‘salle d’honneur’, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

30

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Plate XI. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the cortège of the effigy, BnF. Ms. fr. 5097 © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

31

Plate XII. Death of Alfonso I d’Este, Ferrara, Museo di Schifanoia (Ferrara, Fototeca dei Musei di Arte Antica).

32

Plate XIII. The chapelle ardente of Alfonso I d’Este, Ferrara, Museo di Schifanoia (Ferrara, Fototeca dei Musei di Arte Antica).

33

Plate XIV. Augsburg, Funeral, Klagroß, Mourning, 24–25 February 1559, Aigentliche beschreibung […], Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 7566, fol. 16r.

34

Plate XV. Brussels, Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Ship Victoria, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […], (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559).

34

Plate XVI. Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Objects of honour, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […], (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559), segments 24–26.

35

Plate XVII. Sebastián Muñoz, 1689, The Chapel of Repose of Marie Louise of Orleans in the Grand Salon of the Alcazar Palace, Madrid. New York: Hispanic Society.

36

Plate XVIII. Anonymous, 1666. Philip IV in Death. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia.

36

Plate XIX. Death of Queen Sophie Amalie. Oil painting by Kristian Zahrtmann, 1882. (Photo: Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Copenhagen).

37

Plate XX. Commemorative portrait of King Frederik III, presented upon his lit de parade in 1670. Oil painting by Heinrich Dittmers. Roskilde Cathedral. (Photo: Roberto Fortuna, National Museum of Denmark).

38

Plate XXI. Portrait of Queen Sophie Amalie, represented in front of Sophie Amalienborg (erected in 1667–1673, though destroyed by fire in 1689). Undated (after 1673) oil painting, ascribed to Jacob d’Agar. Gripsholm Castle (Photo: Nationalmuseum, Stockholm).

38

list of illustrations

Figures Figure 1.1. Arnolfo di Cambio, Tomb of Pope Boniface VIII (1294–1303), Vatican City, Vatican Basilica Crypt.

54

Figure 2.1. Funeral convoy of Louis I, duc d’Orleans (1407), Martial d’Auvergne, Les Vigiles de Charles VII, BnF. Ms. fr. 5054, fol. 5v.

69

Figure 3.1. The Lorraines discover the corpse of Charles the Bold, Diebold Schilling, Amtliche Berner-Chronik, 1486, Berne, Bibliothèque de la Bourgeoisie de Berne, Ms. h.h.I.3, vol. 3, p. 851. © Bibliothèque de la Bourgeoisie de Berne

74

Figure 3.2. Marie of Burgundy on her deathbed, Dits die eccelente cronike van Vlaenderen (Antwerp: Willem Vorsterman, 1531), fol. 223v. © A. Marchandisse

77

Figure 3.3. Vigil beside the catafalque of the Bold, Je(h)An du P(e)rier, Le Songe du Pastourel, Lorraine (Nancy) (c. 1520), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 2556, fol. 33v. © ÖNB

81

Figure 3.4. The ducal burial of Charles the Bold, Je(h)An du P(e)rier, Le Songe du Pastourel, Lorraine (Nancy) (c. 1520), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 2556, fol. 32r. © ÖNB

82

Figure 4.1. Restored funeral effigy head of Edward III, London, Westminster Abbey. © Dean and Chapter of Westminster

90

Figure 4.2. Restored funeral effigy head of Henry VII, London, Westminster Abbey. © Dean and Chapter of Westminster

91

Figure 4.3. Antiquarian drawing of the opened tomb of Edward I in 1774, London, Society of Antiquaries of London. © Society of Antiquaries of London, UK/Bridgeman Images 

92

Figure 4.4. Illumination of the funeral of the king, London, Westminster Abbey MS 37 (Westminster Missal), fol. 224. © Society of Antiquaries of London, UK/Bridgeman Images 

93

Figure 4.5. Illumination of the funeral of the king, London, Westminster Abbey MS 38 (Liber Regalis), fol. 33v. © Dean and Chapter of Westminster 

94

Figure 4.6. Drawing of the funeral hearse of Abbot Islip of West­ minster (d. 1532), London, Westminster Abbey, Obituary Roll of Abbot Islip. © Dean and Chapter of Westminster 

97

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Figure 5.1. St Mary’s Church in Marienberg (Würzburg) (photo by the author).

111

Figure 5.2. Tombs of hearts of bishops of Würzburg in Ebrach (Engraving, seventeenth or eighteenth century). Reproduced after Ignaz Gropp, Collectio novissima scriptorum et rerum Wirceburgensium a saeculo XVI, XVII. et XVIII hactenus gestarum […] (Frankfurt: Weidmann 1741), vol. 1, p. 96.

113

Figure 6.1. Giovanni di Balduccio, funeral monument for Azzone Visconti (after 1337), Milan, Chiesa di San Gottardo in Corte (photo by the author).

127

Figure 6.2. Giacomo da Campione, funeral monument for Bianca di Savoia (c. 1387), Milan, Museo d’arte antica del Castello sforzesco (photo by the author).

134

Figure 6.3. Cristoforo Solari, funeral monuments for Ludovico Maria Sforza and Beatrice d’Este (Certosa di Pavia, 1497), Milan, Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Grazie (photo by the author).

135

Figure 8.1. The obelisk and king’s tomb in the Mausoleum, presented by Artemisia to her son, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 95. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

173

Figure 8.2. Sonnet of the five workers of the Mausoleum, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 94. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

174

Figure 8.3. The rhinoceros chariot, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 35. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

176

Figure 8.4. The king’s body in armour laid on the pyre, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 97. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

177

Figure 8.5. Artemisia, the mathematicians and the astrologers, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 85. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

178

Figure 8.6. Artemisia receiving the model of the tomb of Mausolus, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 87. © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

179

list of illustrations

Figure 9.1. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the placing of the body in the coffin, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

190

Figure 9.2. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the burial, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

191

Figure 9.3. Funeral of Henri IV, the effigy on the lit d’honneur, engraved by Isaac Briot, 1610, BnF, Estampes, RESERVE FOLQB-201 (17). © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

198

Figure 9.4. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Chambre du trépas, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grandes tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608) © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF

200

Figure 9.5. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Salle d’honneur, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grandes tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608) © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

201

Figure 9.6. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Salle de deuil, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grandes tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608) © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

202

Figure 9.7. Effigy of Marguerite de Valois, 1615, engraving (private coll., photo Chatenet).

204

Figure 10.1. Maschera funeraria of the doge Francesco Loredan (?), Venice, Museo Correr [cat. cl. XX n. 001].

214

Figure 10.2. Funeral effigy of the doge Alvise IV Mocenigo (?), Venice, Arciconfraternita di San Rocco [cat. OG 24].

215

Figure 11.1. Augsburg, funeral, crowned helm, 24–25 February 1559, Aigentliche beschreibung […], Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 7566, fol. 16v.

229

Figure 11.2. Augsburg, funeral, crowned helm, Augsburg, Diözesan­ museum St Afra, Inv. DM IX 12. © Augsburg, Diözesanmuseum

230

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Figure 11.3. Frans Hogenberg, funeral procession of Charles V in Brussels, engraving, 1559, Album met 406 ingebonden prenten uit de 11 series van het prentwerk van Frans Hogenberg over de gebeurtenissen in de Nederlanden en omringende landen in de jaren 1535 en 1559–1621, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Fmh 413, RP-P-OB-78.785-14.

231

Figure 11.4. Brussels, funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Philip II, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559), segment 29–30.

234

Figure 11.5. Brussels, funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Chapelle ardente, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559).

237

Figure 12.1. Funeral convoy of Louis XIV to Saint-Denis, Print, 1715 (Paris, BnF estampes, coll. Hennin, vol. LXXXVII, n. 7646 Res. QB-201(87)-FOL). © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

258

Figure 12.2. The body of Louis XIV in the chevet at Saint-Denis, Print, 1715 (Paris, BnF estampes, coll. Hennin, vol. LXXXVII, n° 7649, Res. QB-201(87)-FOL). © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

262

Figure 12.3. Plan of the vault of the Bourbons’ sepulchre at SaintDenis in 1706, in Dom Michel Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de Saint-Denys en France (Paris, F. Léonard, 1706), (Paris, BnF estampes, QB-1(1610–1611)- FOL, N 88837). © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

264

Figure 13.1. Francesco Fontana and Andrea Seghizzi, façade of the church of Sant’Agostino prepared for the exequies of Francesco I d’Este, in Domenico Gamberti, L’idea di un prencipe et eroe christiano (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659), p. 150a. 

274

Figure 13.2. Francesco Fontana and Andrea Seghizzi, the catafalque erected in the church of Sant’Agostino for the exequies of Francesco I d’Este, in Domenico Gamberti, L’idea di un prencipe et eroe christiano (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659), p. 190a. 

276

Figure 13.3. The inside of the church of di Sant’Agostino in Modena (Archivio Fotografico del Centro di Documentazione della Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio di Modena).

280

Figure 13.4. Giovanni Lazzoni, the beatified Beatrice I d’Este, Modena, Chiesa di Sant’Agostino (Archivio Fotografico del Centro di Documentazione della Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio di Modena).

281

list of illustrations

Figure 13.5. Allegory of the complaints of the arts, in Marco Boschini, Funeral fato de la pittura venetiana per il passazo de la terena a la celeste vita del serenissimo de Modena Alfonso Quarto (Venice: Francesco Valvasense 1663) (private collection, photo by the author).

282

Figure 14.1. The vigil over the body of Philip IV in his study, Anonymous, Paris, La Roches, 1665. Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional.

290

Figure 14.2. ‘Plan for the Royal funeral’, Etiquetas de la Casa de Austria: disposición de entierros de Señores Reyes (1647–1651). Madrid, Archivo General de Palacio.

296

Figure 14.3. Pedro de Villafranca, allegorical plate, Fr. Francisco de los Santos, Descripción breve del Monasterio de S. Lorenzo el Real del Escorial (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1657) Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional.

297

Figure 14.4. Pedro de Villafranca, ‘Plan for the disposition of guests’, Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV (Madrid: Francisco Nieto, 1666) Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional.

300

Figure 14.5. Pedro de Villafranca, Frontispiece. Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV (Madrid: Francisco Nieto, 1666) Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional.

302

Figure 15.1. Mattheus Merian the Elder, Landgrave Maurice of HesseKassel and his wife, Agnes, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, fol. 14. 308 Figure 15.2. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the Landgrave lying in state, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, fol. 45.

311

Figure 15.3. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the funeral convoy at the castle of Eschwege in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, fol. 53.

312

Figure 15.4. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the funeral convoy in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, fol. 59.

312

Figure 15.5. The mausoleum in the church of Saint-Martin in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, fol. 56.

314

Figure 15.6. The genealogy of Maurice de Hesse-Kassel, in Monu­ mentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638, n.p.

316

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Figure 16.1. The castrum doloris of King Frederik III (d. 1670), anonymous engraving, representing the structure erected in Copenhagen Castle Church or at Sophienkirche in Dresden (Photo: The Royal Library, Copenhagen).

332

Figure 16.2. Commemorative medal, distributed at the funeral of Queen Sophie Amalie 26 March 1685. The front and reverse present her title, the double escutcheons of Denmark and BrunswickLüneburg as well as her funeral urn, including the date of her death and probably an ideal view of her dowager residence, Sophie Amalienborg (Photo: National Museum of Denmark).

336

Figure 16.3. The sarcophagus of Queen Sophie Amalie. To the left is seen the sarcophagus of King Frederik III. By Ferdinand Küblich 1687–1688 after drawings by Lambert van Haven. Roskilde Cathedral (Photo: Pernille Klemp and Ole Woldbye, 2001).

338

Figure 16.4. Frontispiece of the queen’s sarcophagus in Roskilde Cathedral, representing her half-length portrait upon a pedestal, framed by allegories of Piety and Wisdom (Photo: Pernille Klemp and Ole Woldbye, 2001).

340

Frontispiece: Brussels, Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Ship Victoria, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559).

Acknowledgements This volume of essays has been brought together at the request of the convenors of the Society for European Festivals Research to expand the scope of its publications to include one of the fundamental themes of princely ceremonies at the outset of modern times. The editors of this publication would like to express their warmest gratitude to the general editors of the series of ‘European Festival Studies’ who gave them the opportunity to present the results of considerable research undertaken on this theme over the last twenty years throughout Europe. They would particularly like to pay tribute to the memory of J. R. (Ronnie) Mulryne who was the heart and soul of this collection and who translated some original contributions from Italian. They also express their heartfelt thanks to Margaret M. McGowan who, with talent and tenacity, revised the definitive English-language version of a work which, without her, would never have seen the light of day, and to Margaret Shewring who carried out the formal review. Their thanks also go to all the authors of the studies, to the Universities of Warwick and Leuven for providing financial support, to Krista De Jonge and Robert J. Knecht who participated actively in the translations, to Jean Andrews who translated a chapter from Spanish and to Iara Dundas and Elisabeth Larkin who created the first versions of translations for chapters from French into English. They would also like to thank Guy Carney of Brepols, Publishing Manager for ‘European Festival Studies: 1450–1700’, as well as Katharine Bartlett for her precious contribution as copyeditor as the volume went through its final stages. M.C., M.G.-F. and G.S. January 2021

Editors and Contributors

Editors Monique Chatenet, Conservateur en chef honoraire du Patrimoine, honorary member of the Centre André Chastel (CNRS – Paris-Sorbonne Université), is the author of numerous books and articles on French architecture of the Renaissance and on the life of the court in the sixteenth century. Her publications include two well-known books, Chambord (Paris: Éditions du Patrimoine, 2001), and La cour de France au XVIe siècle. Vie sociale et architecture (Paris: Picard, 2002). She has also published several articles on sixteenth-century funerals: ‘Quelques aspects des funérailles nobiliaires au XVIe siècle’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 37–54; ‘“Piteux triomphes et lamentables pompes”: les obsèques des Orleans-Longueville aux XVe et XVIe siècles’, in Jean Guillaume (ed.), Demeures d’éternité. Eglises et chapelles funéraires aux XVe et XVIe siècles (Paris: Picard, 2005), pp. 225–46; with Alain Marchandisse, ‘Les Funérailles de Georges d’Amboise (Lyon et Royen, 25 mai-20 juin 1510)’, in Jean-Pierre Chaline (ed.), Au seuil de la Renaissance: le cardinal Georges d’Amboise (1460–1510) (Rouen: Société de l’histoire de Normandie, 2012), pp. 159–69; and ‘Les funérailles royales. Dernier triomphe des rois, de Charles VI à Henri IV’, in Gérard Sabatier et Béatrix Saule, Le roi est mort. Louis XIV – 1715 (Paris: Tallandier, 2015), pp. 61–69. Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, Professor of History, Université Paris-13, SorbonneParis-Cité. She is a specialist of Funerals in Medieval France, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Age (Villeneuve-d’Ascq : Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005). In 2014, she published La reine au Moyen Age, XIVe–XVe siècle (Paris: Tallandier, 2014) which examines the power held by the French Medieval queens during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (published in English: Queenship in Medieval France (1300–1500), London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016.) Her recent researches explore the relationships between power and the sacred, through the study of the treasure in relics of the prince (Des reliques et des rois, 1300–1500, Paris: Perrin, forthcoming). Gérard Sabatier, Docteur d’Etat, Professor Emeritus, Past Professor of Modern History, Université Pierre Mendes France (Grenoble II), and President of the Scientific Committee of the Centre de Recherche du Château de Versailles. He participated in the European research programme Genèse de l’état moderne (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1985–1986, Fondation Européenne de la Science 1989–1992). Among his publications are: Versailles ou la figure du roi (Paris: Albin Michel, 1999); Le prince et les arts. Stratégies figuratives de la

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monarchie française, de la Renaissance aux Lumières (Seyssel, Champ Vallon, 2010); as editor, Claude-François Ménestrier. Les Jésuites et le monde des images (Grenoble: Publications de l’Université de Grenoble, 2009); and as Director of the collection AULICA, Centre de Recherche du Château de Versailles: with M. Torrione, Louis XIV espagnol? Madrid et Versailles, images et modèles (Paris: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2009); with J. Chrościcki and M. Hengerer, Les funérailles princières en Europe XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (2012); vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (2013), and vol. 3, La mémoire, le deuil, la politique (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’homme, 2015). He was, with Béatrix Saule, curator of the Exhibition Le roi est mort, Château de Versailles 26 October 2015–21 February 2016 (Paris: Tallandier, 2015).

Contributors Maria Adelaida Allo Manero is Professor of Librarianship and Documentation, University of Saragossa. She has worked on the ceremonies and public festivities of the Habsburg dynasty in Spain, and more especially on royal funerals, with a special focus on ephemeral architecture, iconographic and documentary sources. Her most recent publications are: ‘La estampa original del catafalco que espantó y maravillé a Cervantes’, Academia, Boletín de la Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, 117 (2015), 87–120; ‘Imágenes que hablan: el túmulo de Felipe IV en Pamplona’, De Arte, Universidad de León, 13 (2014), pp. 111–20; ‘Il catafalco di Giacomo II Stuart in San Lorenzo in Lucina (1702): disegni inediti di Sebastiano Cipriani’, Studi Romani, LXI, 1–4 (2013), 207–16; ‘Les catafalques dans les funérailles royales espagnoles XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les Funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle: Apolthéoses monumentales (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2013), pp. 297–325. She is currently part of the Fest Digital research team and project ‘Digitalizing the Baroque Festivals. Virtual reconstructions of the ephemeral ornament in Spain and Portugal (17th and 18th centuries)’. Mikhail Boytsov is Professor of Medieval History at the National Research University ‘Higher School of Economics’ (Moscow), Head of the Centre for Medieval Studies. He studied (1978–1983) at the Moscow Lomonosov State University and Berlin Humboldt University. He was promoted in 1986 with a dissertation on political assemblies in late medieval Germany. Most recently, he has concentrated on the symbolism of power in medieval Europe. His principal study (in Russian) is Majesty and Humility. Studies in Medieval European Political Symbolism (2009).

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Joel Burden completed a doctoral thesis on late medieval English coronations and royal funerals at the University of York in 1999. He has written a number of articles on related subjects as an independent scholar, and in his career as an illustrated book publisher has commissioned numerous titles on historical collections, institutions and subjects, including major medieval-related titles on the Lindisfarne Gospels, Magna Carta, and the Apocalypse Cycle in the Great East Window of York Minster. His main published articles are: ‘How Do You Bury a Deposed King? The Funeral of Richard II and the Establishment of Lancastrian Royal Authority in 1400’, in G. Dodd and D. Biggs (eds), Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime, 1399–1406 (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2003), pp. 35–53; ‘Re-writing a Rite of Passage: The Peculiar Funeral of Edward II’, in N. F. McDonald and W. M. Ormrod (eds), Rites of Passage: Cultures of Transition in the Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2004), pp. 13–29. Maria Nadia Covini teaches Medieval History at the Università degli Studi in Milan. She has published on many aspects of institutions and society of the Duchy of Milan in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, from military institutions to the role of lawyers, both in the State legislature and in the political life of Milan and other Lombard cities. She has also written about the theory and practice of the prince’s prerogative of mercy and pardon, and articles about renaissance diplomacy, court life, court residences, and the patronage of princesses and court women in the Italian Renaissance. Her principal publications are: L’esercito del duca. Organizacione militare e istituzioni al tempo degli Sforza (1450–1480) (Rome: Istituto storico per il Medievo, 1995); ‘Feste e ceremonie milianesi tra città e corte. Appunti dei carteggi mantovani’, Ludica, 7 (2001), 122–50. Marie Madeleine Fontaine, former student of the Ecole Nationale Supérieure (ENS Bld Jourdain), is Professor Emerita, University of Lille III. She has taught renaissance literature in the Universities of Rouen, Paris IV-Sorbonne and Lille III. She has edited the Italian condottiere Pietro Del Monte (Paris: Slatkine, 1991), two novels: Alector by Barthelemy Aneau (Geneva: Droz, 1996) and Le Printemps d’Yver by Jacques Yver (Geneva: Droz, 2015); a manuscript on Ancient Funerals by J. Lemaire de Belges: Des anciennes pompes funeralles (Paris: Société des textes français modernes, 2011); and three works by Remy Belleau: Commentaire on Ronsard (Geneva: Droz, 1986), Petites inventions (Paris: Champion, 1995), and Bergerie (Paris: Champion, 2001). Numerous studies and four symposia deal with Le corps à la Renaissance (Paris: Aux amateurs de livres, 1990), the translator Jean Martin, (‘Jean Martin. Un traducteur au temps de François Ier et de Henri II’, Cahiers V.L. Saulnier 16 (Paris: Presses de L’Ecole nationale supérieure, 1999), Rire à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2010), Les mots de la guerre (Genève: Droz, 2015), the relationship between literature and medicine, alchemy, architecture and gardens.

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Naïma Ghermani is Maitre de Conférences, University of Grenoble II, and junior member of the Institut Universitaire de France (IUF). Her published works include; Le prince et son portrait. Incarner le pouvoir dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2009), which won the Prix Mgr Marcel from the Académie Française in 2010. In collaboration with Olivier Christin and Fabrice Flückiger, Marie mondialisée. L’Atlas marianus et les topographies sacrées de l’époque moderne (Alphil Editions: Presses universitaires Suisses, 2014). Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen was Editor at Danmarks Kirker (Danish Churches), published by the National Museum of Denmark. She has published on Danish churches, on late medieval and early modern memorial culture, Protestant art and architecture, court history, and the rituals of power. She is a member of the research and steering committees of Medieval memoria Online (MeMo), and Mémoire monarchique et la construction de l’Europe; PALATIUM. Court Residences as Places of Exchange in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, 1400–1700. Alain Marchandisse is Maître de Recherche at the F.R.S.-FNRS, University of Liège, RU Transitions, is Co-Director and Director of the publication of the review Le Moyen Age, President of the Réseau des Médiévistes belges de Langue française, and elected Secretary-General of the Centre européen d’Etudes bourguignonnes. His fields of research are: political, military, and diplomatic history in the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the history of political women, historiography, art history, and philology in their interaction with history, history of manuscripts, illuminations and iconography, history of death, in particular privileged burials, obituaries, testaments, and diplomacy. His most recent publications are: Jacques de Bourbon, un éphémère chevalier de la Toison d’or’, in A. Marchandisse, and G. Docquier (eds), Autour de la Toison d’or. Ordres de chevalerie et confréries nobles aux XIVe–XVIe siècles, Publication du Centre européen d’Études bourguignonnes (XIVe–XVIe s.), t. 59, 2019, p. 65–91; ‘De Montereau à Troyes’, in A. Baudin, and V. Toureille (eds), Troyes 1420. Un roi pour deux couronnes (Gand-Troyes, Snoeck-Département de l’Aube, 2020), pp. 42–47. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani was Scriptor of the Vatican Library (1969–1981) and Professor of Medieval History, University of Lausanne (1981–2009). He was President of the international Union of the Academies (2005–2007), and is President of SISMEL (2008), Director of Micrologus and Micrologus Library (Florence, SISMEL), and Corresponding Fellow of the Medieval Academy of America, Académie royale de Belgique, The British Academy and Membre associé étranger, Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. His principal publications are: The Pope’s Body (Chicago/London: University of Chicago Press, 2000); Boniface III (Paris: Payot, 2003); and Le Bestiaire du Pape (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018).

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Eva Pibiri is Maître d’enseignement et de recherche in Medieval History, University of Lausanne. Her works explore the history of education in Frenchspeaking countries in the Middle Ages and the Court of Savoy in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, focusing on diplomatic practices, matrimonial policy, devotions, and court rituals. Her published works include En voyage pour Monseigneur, Ambassadeurs, officiers et messagers à la cour de Savoie (XIVe–XVe siècles) (Lausanne: Mémoires et documents publiés par la Société d’histoire de la Suisse romande, 4/XI, 2011), Mourir à la cour. Normes, usages et contingences funéraires dans les milieux curiaux à la fin du Moyen Age et à l’Epoque moderne, B. Andenmatten et E. Pibiri (eds), (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 2016) (CLHM, 55). Giovanni Ricci was formerly Professor of Modern History, University of Ferrara; he has published many books including: Bologna. La città nella storia d’Italia (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 1980); Ravenna. La città nella storia d’Italia (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 1985); Povertà, vergogna, superbia. I declassati fra Medioevo ed Età moderna (Bologna: il Mulino, 1996); Il principe e la morte. Corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: il Mulino, 1998); Ossessione turca. In una retrovia cristiana dell’Europa moderna (Bologna: il Mulino, 2002; in Turkish, Istanbul, 2005); I giovani, I morti. Sfide al Rinascimento (Bologna: il Mulino, 2007); I turchi alle porte (Bologna: il Mulino, 2008); and Appello Al Turco. I confini infranti el Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2011).

Colour Plates

Plate I. Funeral convoy of Charles VI (1422), Jean Chartier, Chroniques du règne de Charles VII, illumination painted by Philippe de Mazerolles, Bruges, between 1470 and 1479 (BnF. Ms. fr. 2691, fol. 1).

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Plate II. Funeral convoy of Jeanne de Bourbon (1378), Grandes Chroniques de France (copy owned by Charles V) (BnF. Ms. fr. 2813, fol. 480v).

Plate III. Funeral convoy of Isabeau de Bavière (1435), Martial d’Auvergne, Les Vigiles de Charles VII (BnF. Ms. fr. 5054, fol. 87).

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Plate IV. Charles the Bold on his deathbed, in Nancy, Jean de Roye, Chronique scandaleuse, Paris, BnF. Ms. Clairambault 481 (1502), fol. 447r.

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Plate V. The funeral of Richard II from a late fifteenth-century copy of Jean Froissart’s Chroniques. London, British Library MS Royal 18 E II fol. 416v. © British Library, London, UK © British Library Board. All Rights Reserved/ Bridgeman Images.

Plate VI. Bonino da Campione, Equestrian monument for Bernabò Visconti (c. 1363). Milan, Museo d’arte antica del Castello sforzesco. Photo by G. Dallorto; image in the Public Domain (Wikimedia Commons).

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Plate VII. Philibert the Handsome on his deathbed, Jean Lemaire de Belges, La Couronne margaritique (Savoy, 1504–1505), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cod. 3441, fol. 21v.

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Plate VIII. The effigy’s chambre de parement, in Nicolas Houël, Ms. BnF. Res. Ad-105, View Gallica 21. © Source gallica bnf.fr/ BnF.

Plate IX (opposite). Funerals of the heart of Anne de Bretagne, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

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Plate X. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the ‘salle d’honneur’, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, MS LDUT 665. © IRHT-CNRS / Petit Palais.

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Plate XI. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the cortège of the effigy, BnF. Ms. fr. 5097 © Source gallica.bnf.fr/ BnF.

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Plate XII. Death of Alfonso I d’Este, Ferrara, Museo di Schifanoia (Ferrara, Fototeca dei Musei di Arte Antica).

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Plate XIII. The chapelle ardente of Alfonso I d’Este, Ferrara, Museo di Schifanoia (Ferrara, Fototeca dei Musei di Arte Antica).

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Plate XIV. Augsburg, Funeral, Klagroß, Mourning, 24–25 February 1559, Aigentliche beschreibung […], Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 7566, fol. 16r.

Plate XV. Brussels, Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Ship Victoria, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […], (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559).

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Plate XVI, a, b, and c. Funeral, 29–30 December 1558, Objects of honour, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. […], (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559), segments 24–26.

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Plate XVII. Sebastián Muñoz, 1689, The Chapel of Repose of Marie Louise of Orleans in the Grand Salon of the Alcazar Palace, Madrid. New York: Hispanic Society.

Plate XVIII. Anonymous, 1666. Philip IV in Death. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia.

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Plate XIX. Death of Queen Sophie Amalie. Oil painting by Kristian Zahrtmann, 1882. (Photo: Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Copenhagen).

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Plate XX. Commemorative portrait of King Frederik III, presented upon his lit de parade in 1670. Oil painting by Heinrich Dittmers. Roskilde Cathedral. (Photo: Roberto Fortuna, National Museum of Denmark).

Plate XXI. Portrait of Queen Sophie Amalie, represented in front of Sophie Amalienborg (erected in 1667–1673, though destroyed by fire in 1689). Undated (after 1673) oil painting, ascribed to Jacob d’Agar. Gripsholm Castle (Photo: Nationalmuseum, Stockholm).

Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier

Introduction. The Changing Face of Funerals (1400–1700) During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, at the time of the Hundred Years’ War, French and English kings used every possible medium to legitimize and reinforce their power. Such political communication was not born at the end of the Middle Ages, but it intensified when the necessity of bringing a country together became the important factor in political designs. This communication became part of the theatricalization of power, when grand public rituals filled the life and reign of the sovereign (coronation, entries, diplomatic receptions). Funeral celebrations took on a magnitude unknown until then. In France, Charles V (1364–1380) was one of its great promoters, bringing onto the stage not only his own eternity (a triple sepulchre for which the recumbent statues had been commissioned during his lifetime), but also that of queens (like his wife Jeanne de Bourbon (1339–1378)) integrated — since the accession of the Valois — into the ‘cemetery of kings’ at Saint-Denis. In the fifteenth century, Charles V’s successors carried on his ‘funeral politics’: body exposed, face and hands uncovered bearing the insignia of power — a ritual of sovereignty also practised by the pope (see Paravicini Bagliani, Chapter 1) and by English monarchs (see Burden, Chapter 4) — the canopy, the chapel of rest, as well as the presence of the constituent parts of the kingdom (prelates, nobles, and civic representatives). The successors introduced a number of innovations, however. In part, these were based on English ritual, such as recourse to the effigy, employed for the first time on the death of Edward II in 1327. Simple spectacle of the dead king or incarnation as a ‘political body’, the wax mannequin created by the king’s painters and made to resemble his ‘person’, has aroused much debate among historians and art historians. Undeniably, at the beginning, the wax semblance responded to a practical necessity: the interval between death and burial exceeded the number of days when the full Monique Chatenet is Conservateur en chef honoraire and honorary member of Centre André Chastel, CNRS – Paris-Sorbonne Université. Murielle Gaude-Ferragu is Professor of History at the Université Paris-13, Sorbonne-Paris-Cité. Gérard Sabatier, Professor Emeritus, was formerly professor of Modern History at the University of Grenoble II.

Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 39–44  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120749

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presentation of the mortal remains was possible; from 1422, a substitute was used (the funeral of Charles VI). And yet, recent research has shown (Brown, Boureau, Gaude-Ferragu, Chatenet, Marchandisse and Girault) that the effigy did not incorporate the legally immortal body of the king. Queens, from the death of Isabeau de Bavière in 1435, had a wax mannequin at their disposal without that object presenting any issue with regard to political permanence; if the ‘king never dies’, the queen, separated from power since the beginning of the fourteenth century, had merely a mortal body, ephemeral, without any sense of transcendence: her Dignity died with her, and yet she was represented by an effigy. This stood for the glorious body of the dead King and Queen, promised at the Resurrection. It is, in this sense, Christian not statutory that her effigy embodies the notion of eternity. Some European courts adopted the effigy; the prince’s successor, organizer of his funeral, modelled the occasion on French ceremonial (for example, the dukes of Anjou, of Bourbon, and Ferrara; see Ricci, Chapter 10), asserting in his turn his power and prestige. Others preferred to adopt different signs of sovereignty (such as the canopy and crowned headpiece used at the death of Philippe le Bon, duc de Bourgogne (1391–1467); see Marchandisse, Chapter 3). They all transformed funeral ritual into a ceremony of inauguration, with performances (sword or banner lowered and then raised up), and words pronounced, such as the cry of inauguration: ‘the king is dead, long live the king’. Thus, before submitting himself to divine justice, the prince — or rather his body — lit a final terrestrial flame: his funeral symbolized a subtle victory, a political reality superimposed upon a physiological one. In the image of Christ who, through his resurrection, triumphed over death, the prince (more humbly) triumphed over forgetfulness with an impressive funeral pomp which endured long in the memory. His sepulchre (often triple in form with body, heart and innards), together with the prayers intoned by the clerics, further perpetuated his repute and inscribed ‘for eternity’ his passage on earth. * ** In the sixteenth century, the ceremonies for princely funerals were considerably transformed through a double influence: the desire to restore the grandeur of the ancient Romans on the one hand, and the development of court society on the other, the whole effect made under the pressure derived from a sense of strong cultural and martial competition which beset the whole of Europe. The discovery, in the middle of the fifteenth century, of the Greek text of Herodian’s Histoires evoking the funerals of Roman emperors, together with the extensive moral heritage belonging to the story of Artemisia (widow of King Mausolos), were at the birth of passionate researches on surviving evidence of the customs and rituals of ancient funerals (see Fontaine, Chapter 8). They resulted in numerous treatises, beginning with that of Jean Lemaire de Belges (1507), and in the enrichment of funeral ceremonies with stories and monuments (both ephemeral and enduring) as surprising as they were spectacular.

i n t roduction . the chan gin g face of  funera ls (1400–17 00)

In France, from the death of Charles VIII (1498), as the protonotary Jean du Tillet recorded, the convoy when the body and effigy of the king were carried by his fellows in arms already alluded to ancient practice; but it was especially under Louis XII with the celebrated funeral ceremonies of Anne de Bretagne (1514), and even more with the less well-known funeral celebrations of the king himself (1515) when an event — freely adapted from the funeral ritual of Roman emperors — was born: the meal in front of the royal effigy. During the long interval between the placing in the coffin and the burial itself, meals were ceremoniously served in front of the effigy by the household personnel ‘as if their master were still alive’. As to the long funeral convoy which traditionally carried the effigy from Paris to Saint-Denis, it reflected allusions to the Triumphs of ancient Rome, a sad counterpoint to the joyous royal entries. During the sixteenth century, the funeral ritual developed along these lines, being enriched by the inventions of the heralds and masters of ceremony who were never short of imaginative ideas, and endowed with the magnificence and grandeur of the courtly image of the last Valois kings. Within these developments, the spectacular use of the effigy was to have repercussions beyond French and English borders, notably in the Italian peninsula: first, in Venice for the funerals of the Doge, then for the dukes of Ferrara and Mantua, as well as for the grand duke of Tuscany, without the whole French ritual ever being strictly followed (see Ricci, Chapter 10). In this regard, the response of Emond du Boullay, organizer of the funeral celebration for the dukes of Lorraine and Guise, is symptomatic. The way in which he masks the evident borrowings from French ceremonial habits beneath the assertion of a pseudo-restoration of ancestral rituals of the Lorraine princes — ‘sovereigns of the lands between the rivers Meuse and the Rhine’ — illustrates well the essential role of funeral ceremonial for the prestige of a princely line. The funeral of Emperor Charles V (1558) constitutes another ceremonial climax whose expansion across Europe — and even beyond — was even more immense, by reason of the huge extent of the territories and zones under the Emperor’s rule and influence (see Marchandisse, Chapter 11). Charles, who died at the monastery of Yuste where he had retired following his abdication, was buried with a certain ceremony, but almost privately in the church of the Hieronymites where his body lay until its transfer to the Escorial in 1574. Notwithstanding this simplicity, innumerable commemorative ceremonies across Europe displayed a sumptuous ostentation equal to the vast power of the dead monarch: in Spain, Italy, the Low Countries, in the empire and even in Mexico; there were (it is said) 3700 commemorations which developed original formulae. In Italy, where the tradition was already established (but also in Spain), an ‘apparato’ or catafalque representing the dead Emperor was erected at the centre of the sanctuary. This ephemeral monument in the form of a stepped pyramid — also inspired by ancient forms — was decorated with sculptures and paintings developing not only abundant heraldic and emblematic signs, traditional to Burgundy and the Holy Roman Empire, but also to themes taken from humanistic sources.

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In northern Europe, however, notably in Augsburg, on the initiative of Emperor Ferdinand, and especially in Brussels under the orders of Philip II, a great procession, crossing the city according to Burgundian ceremonial traditions took the pre-eminent role. Metamorphosed into a Triumph of Sorrows, the procession — although somewhat different in form — constituted a parallel to contemporary French funeral ceremonies, yet with a magnificence and a power unequalled. There was no effigy, but at the centre of the whole machine, after the banners, after the steeds of honour crested with the arms of the States of the Empire, with the pieces of honour of the dead monarch, came a gigantesque triumphal car in the form of a ship symbolizing the pegma: that is to say the moving theatre of the Imperial State. As for the immense castrum doloris (Castle of Sorrow) erected at the entrance of the choir of the collegiate church of Saint Gudule, it represented a compromise between the traditions of northern and southern Europe: an immense ‘apparato’ in the form of a pyramid, sheltered beneath an outsize chapel of rest (recalling a medieval tradition) on which thousands of candles blazed as immutable signs of eternal life. * ** In the seventeenth century, princely funerals in Europe imbibed the effects of the general tendency for monarchical power to increase in strength. However, the evolution of funeral ritual was far from being uniform, as it responded to contradictory impulses in the functioning of traditions and strategies within the diverse dynasties. In certain cases, tradition survived while adjusting itself to certain accommodations appropriate to the times. Thus, in Spain for the funeral celebrations of Philip IV in 1665 (see Allo Manero, Chapter 14), the humble ritual which went back to Philip II was respected with a modest procession bearing the remains to the Escorial. However for the first time, the corpse had been disembowelled and embalmed according to the methods of other monarchies, and it was presented in splendour in the Golden Saloon of the Alcazar Palace, beneath a canopy, in court dress, with hat and sword, whereas his predecessors had lain there either in a simple shirt or dressed in a monastic habit. In the Escorial, after a funeral service without splendour, Philip IV took his place in the Pantheon of marble, completed in 1654, and where the remains of earlier kings were assembled. The following ceremonies respected medieval traditions: the raising of banners in Madrid for the proclaiming of the new King; funeral honours in the presence of notables and ambassadors; and the cenotaph surrounded by the swords of all the kingdoms of the monarchy. This fundamental conservatism had also been present in the German principality of Hesse-Kassell in 1632 (see Ghermani, Chapter 15); in the almost complete absence of religious ceremonial following Lutheran precepts; the display of the territory with coats of arms on the coffin when the body was exposed in the castle; the assembly of the whole community forming a body around the coffin; and dynastic continuity evident by the presence of an armed knight in front of the dead corpse, and the successor behind. The immense procession moving from the place of death to

i n t roduction . the chan gin g face of  funera ls (1400–17 00)

the site of burial among ancestors was the essential element, as is proved by the 52 engravings contained in the Monumentale sepulcrale. The funerals of the dukes of Este at Modena in 1659 and 1663 (see Ricci, Chapter 13) testify to the pre-eminent importance attached to such celebrations in the strategies of small princely houses in attempts to raise themselves to the level of the great. They linked a traditional medieval process to an innovation taken from the modern repertory of the spectacular. The d’Este family, dispossessed of their dukedom of Ferrara and burdened with the stains of bastardy, were obliged to recall their great antiquity and publicize their splendour. The first series were briskly over: embalming and a sober burial in the funeral chapel of the dynasty. The essential event took place in the church of San Agostino, transformed by Gaspare Vigarani (1588–1663) into a funeral theatre, decorated with 124 statues and the medals of illustrious ancestors, each one incorporating a virtue or some heroic quality through the good offices of the Jesuit Domenico Gamberti. In 1663, the church was transformed into a pantheon of all the d’Este family and the ephemeral machine had become a fixed feature. The remembering of the ducal lineage celebrated in a closed space had taken on the form of a dynastic cult, the people being less participators, but rather mere spectators. It was in France that royal funeral ceremonies received their most radical changes (see Sabatier, Chapter 12). In 1610, the suddenness of the king’s death and the need to inscribe the new dynasty into the preceding line, made the Queen Regent and the followers of the dead king reproduce a ceremony unchanged from the Valois model, with its complex play between the corpse and its representation during the very long time of its public exhibition, followed by the Parisian procession turned into an antique triumph. These two preliminary sequences, lasting a month and a half, constituted the essential elements of the royal funeral ceremony. The third event was short and without pomp: a mass in Notre-Dame, halfway along the nave, and another at Saint-Denis, followed by the traditional burial. In 1643, Louis XIII introduced a ‘ceremonial coup d’état’ (in the words of Le Gall). He died at Saint-Germain, his embalmed body shown as in life, holding a crucifix in his hands. No effigy, no insignia of monarchy. The first had been abandoned as tainted with paganism, the second suppressed through humility. It was the model of a Christian death, a model Philip II, commended by the Counter-Reformation. Louis XIII’s second ‘coup d’état’, following the logic of the first, was a procession without pomp, a procession made up of the royal household and close servants, 600 participants who went straight to Saint-Denis, thus avoiding the city of Paris completely. The reason given for such a drastic change was to reduce the expense, the kingdom’s finances having been exhausted by the cost of the wars against Spain. Deprived of the prayers of his subjects through the short time his body was exposed in Saint-Germain, together with the avoiding of Paris, King Louis rested for a month in the choir of the basilica, waiting to receive his subjects. After that, the funeral ritual proceeded, without pomp other than a chapel of rest.

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While Louis XIII had arranged his own funeral ceremonies, this was not the case for Louis XIV who was beset with all the problems of his succession. The Regent, the duc d’Orléans, ordered that the ceremonies be the same as for his father. Thus, the Valois model was not restored, but the Bourbon ceremony of Louis XIII was used, adopting meanings and changes which ended up in a ceremonial formula which accorded perfectly with the new conceptions of monarchy. The remains of Louis XIV were not exposed as were those of Louis XIII, as gangrene having set in necessitated their being put in a coffin immediately after embalming. However, in erecting in the Salon of Mercury at Versailles, a ceremonial bed with the coffin and urns containing the heart and entrails situated at its foot, the fiction of the exposure of the whole body was preserved. Yet, the modesty and humility which had characterized the funeral of his father were entirely absent. The avoidance of Paris and the break with the people were signs of the rupture of the monarchy from its subjects, concerned to make prominent by this separation, its own eminence. This segregation was emphasized by the exclusive involvement of the court whose members formed the procession on their own, with the body of the king. Majesty was made manifest with the spectacle of 3000 persons carrying lighted torches, moving through the night to arrive at Saint-Denis at daybreak. This innovation of travelling through the night owed much to Spanish example (the first instance was for the funeral of Anne d’Autriche), and it dramatizes the whole process likening it to the resurrection of the phoenix. All that the royal funeral ceremony lost in the pomp of the palace, the last terrestrial dwelling of the king, was recouped — and more — by the splendour of the religious funeral ceremony in the basilica metamorphosed into a great theatre of death. In 1683, the funeral of the queen had introduced Italian spectacle with a monumental castrum doloris (Castle of Sorrow). Following funeral ceremonies merely enhanced this theatrical tendency. Removed from the care of the abbey’s religious personnel and given to the royal service of the Menus Plaisirs, the funerals of the Bourbons had become the employment of the religious in the service of the glorification of an absolute monarch. These changes in funeral ceremonies, in harmony with the monarchical system itself, were not limited to France. For the same reasons, one sees its use in Scandinavian kingdoms. The installing of absolutism in Denmark in 1660, and in Sweden in 1680, brought the disappearance of great processions and the separation of monarchs from the people (see Johannsen, Chapter 16). Kings organized their own funerals in private chapels and adopted the Italian model of the castrum doloris made popular in France, associating it with a Germanic tradition of a sepulchre made in shining bronze. For the queen of Denmark, Sophie Amalie in 1685, and for Ulrica Eleonora of Sweden in 1693, the move from a dynamic procession to a static funeral ceremony in the church, demonstrates that the king and the queen did not belong to the same social sphere as their subjects.

Part I

Fifteenth Century Edited by

Murielle Gaude-Ferragu

Agostino Paravicini Bagliani

Chapter 1. The Funerary Rite of the Papacy at the End of the Middle Ages

At the start of the twelfth century the Liber pontificalis — the official anthology of biographies of the popes of the Middle Ages — described in detail, for the first time, the burial ceremony of a pope, the first French pope, Urban II (1088–1099), insisting on the fact that he should be buried ‘with honour’. For the period before the eleventh century, the anthology regularly cites the location for the burials of the roman pontiffs but never the elements which made up the funeral nor the treatment of the corpse. The biography of Urban II’s successor, Paschal II (1099–1118), addresses other features of importance: a testimony that the papal corpse had been ‘prepared with ointments’, according to instructions in the ordo. Thus at the beginning of the twelfth century we hear, for the first time, of the existence of a funeral ceremony reserved exclusively for the death of a pope. The text itself has not survived, but the reference to its existence is in itself significant. From the twelfth century onwards, the history of the death of the pope is markedly different from that of the first millennium in papal history. The transformations occurred rapidly. Throughout the course of the thirteenth century, the interval that separated the event of the pope’s death from his entombment was gradually extended. In fact, it is important to recall that in the earliest centuries of Christian history the burial of the pontiff — like that of other Christian bishops — would occur in the evening, or rather, the night following his death. On the other hand, in the second half of the thirteenth century the popes were buried, with greater and greater regularity, days after their death. It was at this same time that the public exposition of the papal corpse became compulsory. This new development is attested to for the first time in a detailed fashion by Innocent III (1198–1216), thanks to the famous account by Jacques de Vitry. Having arrived in Perugia the day following the death of the pope (16 July 1216) and upon entering the cathedral where the body was lying in state, Jacques de Vitry noticed that some unknown individuals had ‘furtively’ stripped the corpse of its precious parements (robes) with which it should be buried, abandoning the ‘almost naked’ body in an advanced state of decomposition. The famous Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Professor Emeritus, is a former Professor of Medieval History at the University of Lausanne. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 47–56  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120750

FHG

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preacher — and future cardinal — was thus able to observe with his own eyes how ‘the deceptive splendor of this world’ was ‘brief and futile’.1 Near the end of the thirteenth century, those two ritual elements — public exposition and lengthening the period which separated the moment of death from the burial of the pope — gave life to a ceremony that is still celebrated today on the occasion of a pope’s death, with funerals that last nine days! In this respect we do not know if the arrangement of that completely new ceremony — which was, perhaps, first celebrated for the funeral of Pope Boniface VIII, who died on 11 October 1303 — had been prompted by Gregory X’s (1271–1276) historic decision, promulgated during the second council of Lyon (1274), in what must be defined as the ‘constitutional charter’ of the conclave, to impose upon the cardinals the rule that they not wait more than ten days before entering ‘conclave’ and commencing the procedures to elect a new pope.2 The space of ten days between the death of the pope and the beginning of conclave is filled by the devotional novemdiales, or is it the existence of that devotional, no doubt a recent one, that permits the pope to dictate that the cardinals not await their absent colleagues more than ten days and that they enter conclave ten days, at most, after the death of the pope? We cannot know. It is useful to note that in Byzantium evidence of the duration of the funerals being stretched out over nine days seems to appear, for the first time, on the occasion of the entombment of Emperor Andronikos II (1328), (though this may simply be a coincidence). In Avignon, the Vitae of popes Clement V (1305–1314), John XXII (1316–1334), Benedict XII (1334–1342), Clement VI (1342–1352), and Innocent VI (1352–1362) lack any reference to the novena, although we know that it was celebrated at the death of Clement VI. The Vitae of Urban V (1362–1370) likewise makes explicit reference to it.3 It is at this time, in the final decades of the fourteenth century, that the oldest pontifical funeral ceremony to reach us was written. Its author, Pierre Ameil, was present at the pontifical courts under Urban V, Gregory XI (1370–1377), and Urban VI (1377–1389), where he was confessor. Remaining faithful to Urban VI, he died in Rome in 1400. For the first time a text ran through all the prescribed rituals from the last days of the pope’s life to the election of his successor.4 The pope is required to confess and receive the Eucharist. To the gathered cardinals he shall dictate his will and select his burial site. He must also declare that he wishes to ‘die in the unity of faith’.

 1 R. B. C. Huygens (ed.), Lettres de Jacques de Vitry (1160/1170–1240), évêque de Saint-Jean-d’Acre (Leiden: Brill, 1960), p. 73, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2000), pp. 122–23.  2 Concerning Boniface VIII, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Boniface VIII (Paris: Payot, 2003).  3 Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, pp. 144 ff.  4 Edition: Marc Dykmans, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du Moyen Âge à la Renaissance, IV (Brussels and Rome: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1985), pp. 69–288. For a complete description, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Morte e elezione del papa (Rome: Viella, 2013) (‘La corte dei papi’, 22), pp. 233–66.

chapter 1. the funerary rite of the papacy at the end of the middle ages

As soon as he is informed that the pope is in his death throes, the camerlengo will make arrangements to protect the palace and prevent all depredation or pillaging. He must take possession of all the jewels belonging to the papal chapel and take an inventory. The preparation of the papal remains is assigned to the ‘brothers of the seal’; in other words, to two Cistercian monks who were charged with the fabrication of the lead seal that was always appended to papal bulls. It is for this reason that they are known as bullarii. They are thus the ones responsible for washing the corpse ‘with hot water and good herbs’. The barber then shaves the head and beard of the deceased. This is followed by the embalming, which should allow for the prolonged exposure of the corpse. The pope should then be dressed in the vestments of his papal dignity, ‘as if he was celebrating’. According to Ameil, the vestments were in red and white, the colours which had been decreed since the thirteenth century as perfectly relating with the affirmation of the pope as the Vicar of Christ.5 When the tomb of Gregory VII (1074–1085) was opened in 1578, it was found that the colours of his vestments were exclusively red and white. The silk gloves were of ‘an admirable beauty’, decorated with gold and pearls and equipped with a cross. The pope wore a gold ring without gems. The chasuble was of a gilded red fabric, like his shoes. The corpse of Boniface VIII, who was found intact when his tomb was opened on 11 October 1605 — 302 years to the day, after his death (11 October 1303) — was equally adorned with highly precious liturgical and quotidian vestments in red and white, but with the addition of some in black: the sandals, for example, ‘set in the Gothic style’, as well as the dalmatic and the chasuble. The pallium was of very fine white silk with golden crosses and pins which are found, as tradition dictates, in the middle of the chest with the other on the right hand. The gloves, finely worked, were adorned with pearls. All embalming is a challenge against corruption. The embalming of the popes — and of other sovereigns — in the Middle Ages was done primarily to ensure the prolonged exposure of the corpse. Pietro Argellata, illustrious professor of surgery at the University of Bologna, stated his satisfaction at having been able to embalm the corpse of Alexander V, who died in 1405 in Bologna, and to have thus preserved the body for eight days.6 On the bier the pope should rest upon a cushion covered in a golden fabric, and on a separate cushion with silk and gold cords at his feet should lie the two hats of the deceased. Throughout the mourning period the members of his familia should wear black clothes. The camerlengo should also don a black cope, but only if he is not a cardinal. The cardinals themselves should not be in the colour of mourning because they are representatives of the Church and its perpetuity.

 5 On these questions, see Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, pp. 75–95.  6 Pietro Argellata, Cirurgia, book V, tract. XII, chap. III, fol. 109r, see Ernst von Rudloff, Ueber das Konservieren von Leichen im Mittelalter. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Anatomie und des Bestattungs­ wesens (Freiburg i.Br.: Karl Henn, 1921), p. 39 and Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, p. 135.

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A candle should stand at each corner of the catafalque, with another at the centre above it. Forty additional candles should be set around. During the masses of the novena, each cardinal is to receive one candle of at least four pounds of wax. The candles for the prelates would be three pounds of wax while those of the penitentiaries and other nobles will be only one pound. The canons and the other priests should receive candles of a quarter of a pound of wax. During the novena the casket should be covered in silk embellished with the papal coat of arms and of the Roman Church. The litter, by contrast, shall be covered in golden fabrics ‘most noble’. Given that in the final years of the Middle Ages, and into the fifteenth century, the papal corpse was generally buried on the third night, the novena would continue to be celebrated around an empty catafalque. This made it necessary to resort to a fiction that simulated the presence of the deceased: two grooms in mourning standing on either side of the castrum doloris continuously and ‘gently’ moved the black fans bearing the papal coat of arms, as if they were ‘chasing flies’. The oldest surviving testimony describing this fictive performance around the remains dates back to the death of Pope Eugene IV (23 February 1447). It was probably inspired by a passage in Dio Cassius’s Roman History, where he describes the wax statue of Emperor Pertinax (d. 193) before which ‘a young slave, as if the prince had only just died, drove away the flies with a fan of peacock feathers’.7 We do not know when this ritual element was introduced to the pontifical ceremony. Enea Silvio Piccolomini, the future Pope Pius II (1458–1464) describes it in his autobiography, not without some malice but still insisting on the fact that it was traditional.8 The ceremonial of Pierre Ameil makes a clear distinction between three spaces: the bedchamber, the chapel, and the church. In the bedchamber, the pope spends the final moments of his life as codified by ritual: impressing upon the dying man the words and actions relevant to an ideal death as a Christian (through confession) and as pope (through a profession of faith). The chapel is a semi-public site for exposition and for visitation on the part of the cardinals and prelates of the papal court. The church is where the public funeral is celebrated. Two processions transfer the corpse from the bedchamber to the chapel, and from the chapel to the church. Three sites for three distinct functions: preparation and clothing of the remains (bedchamber); liturgical vigil for the members of the Curia and other religious participants (chapel); solemn funerals (church). The prescribed period for completion of these three phases: nine days. The administrative and ritual responsibilities were entrusted to three figures: the camerlengo, the penitentiaries, and, above all, the cardinals.

 7 This passage is first mentioned by Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance, trans. by D. Ebnöther, Nouvelle bibliothèque scientifique (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), pp. 228–29. See Eccles. 10. 1.  8 Rudolf Wolkan (ed.), Der Briefwechsel des Eneas Silvius Piccolomini Abt. 2 Briefe als Priester und als Bischof von Triest, Fontes rerum Austriacarum 2, 68 (Vienna: A. Hölder, 1918), pp. 255–56: ‘concedendum est aliquid consuetudini’.

chapter 1. the funerary rite of the papacy at the end of the middle ages

These requirements underline the fact that the pontifical funeral ceremony was sustained by the clear distinction between the caducity (of the physical person of the pope)9 and the perpetuity of the institution. The ceremony is described by François Conzié, author of a ceremonial written a bit later than that of Pierre Ameil, during which the matrix for printing the name of the pope on papal bulls was destroyed.10 The rite is presided over by the vice-chancellor, responsible for the papal chancellery, in the presence of the cardinals. The matrix that reproduces the images of the apostles Peter and Paul was, by contrast, destined to be preserved ‘whole and intact’ in a fabric that, closed and sealed by the vice-chancellor, was entrusted to the camerlengo to keep until the election of the new pope. It could also be entrusted to the vice-chancellor but, in this case, only after having been sealed by the prior of the cardinal bishops or by the three priors of the three orders of cardinals. This indicates that the cardinals were the guardians of the transfer of papal power. For this same reason, upon the death of the pope, the ring with the ‘fisherman’s seal’ — a ring that symbolizes the fact that the pope is Peter’s successor and whose oldest exemplar is found in the tomb of the French Pope Clement IV (1265–1268) — was entrusted to the College of Cardinals.11 The insistence on continuity is also present in the dictate that the deceased pope’s barber should not take the small box containing the razors nor the silver basin used for shaving. The basin, razors, and linens should remain in the papal chamber. It consists of personal objects, the last to have touched the pope’s body and which the barber should not appropriate. Neither should the bakers and bottlers appropriate the tablecloths upon which the pope had his last meal nor the bottles used to serve the last drinks, ‘because they have their wages’. The ideal image which emerges from the ceremonial books of Pierre Ameil and François Conzié is partially modified by the other sources noted which expose the real events. If we are to believe the testimony of Jacques de Vitry, the remains of Innocent III were abandoned during the night the day after his death, when they were exposed in the cathedral of Perugia.12 Other testimonies suggest that similar scenes of abandonment occurred on the occasion of the  9 On the caducity of the pope (rhetoric, rituality), see Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, pp. 5–57. See also Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ‘Rileggendo i testi sulla nudità del papa’, in Glauco Maria Cantarella (ed.), I Re nudi. Congiure, assassini, tracolli ed altri imprevisti nella storia del potere. Atti del Convegno di studio della Fondazione Ezio Franceschini, Certosa del Galluzzo, 19 novembre 1994 (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo, 1996) (Quaderni di cultura mediolatina, 12), pp. 103–25 (reprint with additions in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Il potere del papa. Corporeità, autorappresentazione, simboli, Millennio Medievale, 78. Strumenti e studi, 21 (Florence: E. Del Galluzzo, 2009) pp. 21–44. See Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Il papato nel secolo 13. Cent’anni di bibliografia (1875–2009), Millennio Medievale, 78. Strumenti e studi, 83 (Florence and SISMEL, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2009), pp. 158–59.  10 The funerary rite of François Conzié is summarized and discussed in Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Raiding Saint Peter. Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378), Brill’s Series in Church History, 32 (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2008), pp. 47–60.  11 Gerhart Burian Ladner, Die Papstbildnisse des Altertums und des Mittelalters, 3 vols, Monumenti di anti­chità cristiana, s. II, 4 (Vatican City: Pontificio istituto di archeologia cristiana, 1941–1984), II, passim.  12 See above, note 1.

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deaths of other popes. The Franciscan Salimbene claims that Innocent IV ‘lay naked on the straw and was neglected by all’, adding that it was almost ritual, ‘according to the custom of the Roman pontiffs, upon their deaths’.13 According to the Dominican chronicler Francesco Pipino (died in Bologna after 1328), the death of Clement V: although having lived in possession of a torrent of riches, he was nevertheless stripped completely of his vestments by his servants, at which point the remains were covered only with a palliolo (linen), just as it was told to me by the religious who were present. It was also recounted that during the night of his death, the body was left (alone) by all and part of the remains were burned by fire when a candle fell on it.14 In the Renaissance, the nakedness and neglect of the papal remains became a source of anxiety for the reigning pope. In 1513, shortly before his death, Julius II told the master of pontifical ceremonies, Paride de Grassi (1470–1528), that he recalled: having seen many popes who, once deceased, were immediately abandoned by relatives and servants, stripped of his necessaries to the point that he lay in a manner so unworthy, and naked with his private parts uncovered, which for an authority (maiestas) as elevated as that of the pope, was scandalous and degrading. The pope refused the nudity of his remains and requested from his master of ceremonies that ‘the white fabric destined to cover his corpse be hemmed in gold’. Julius II probably had in mind what had passed at the death of Alexander VI, on August 18, 1503: Six men of the greatest vulgarity, joking and cursing the pope and his corpse, were charged with the transport, while the two master carpenters had made the bier too narrow and too short. The remains of Alexander VI stayed like that ‘all night, with two torches, without a soul to keep watch’, and it was as such that the two penitents were called to recite the funeral service. The covering of the remains of Pope Pius III (d. 18 October 1503) did not meet with any particular difficulty, if one is to believe the testimony of the same master of pontifical ceremonies, Jean Burckard: The pope was washed, dressed and transported to his antechamber where, on a bed whose mattress was covered in green velvet, he was clothed with sacred ornaments, the sole exception being the pectoral cross which could not be found and was replaced by a cross formed with the cords of the pendants, fixed at the center with four pins. He was then transferred to the Room of

 13 Salimbene de Adam, Chronica, ed. by Giuseppe Scalia (Bari: Laterza, 1966), p. 608.  14 Franciscus Pipinus, Chronica, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, 31 vols (Bologna: n.p., n.d.), vol. 9, col. 705–51. Paravicini Bagliani, Morte e elezione del papa, p. 267.

chapter 1. the funerary rite of the papacy at the end of the middle ages

the Parrots and placed on the table. Meanwhile in the antechamber, like in the Room of the Parrots, the penitentiaries recited, without interruption, the funeral service. The cardinals gathered in the Hall of the Pontiffs and then moved into the Room of the Parrots to recite the Our Father […] and kiss his feet.15 The protective measures of the papal ‘palace’ prescribed for the pontifical ritual, as described by Pierre Ameil and François de Conzié, also indicates a determination to secure an ideal location. The fact is that the same members of the papal entourage were engaged in all kinds of robbery from the moment of the pope’s death, and this situation prevailed beyond the Middle Ages. Upon the death of Sixtus IV (12 August 1484), the master of pontifical ceremonies, Jean Burckhard, had to overcome numerous obstacles in order to dress the corpse according to the ceremonial requirements: Indeed, despite all the care given between the sixth and tenth hours, I did not succeed in procuring ointment or handkerchief or any container in which to put the wine and the water perfumed with herbs for washing the corpse; I did not find any pantaloons or a shirt to dress him appropriately.16 This very ancient kind of ‘spoliation’ did not begin to decline until relatively recently thanks to the progressive affirmation of modern bureaucracy of the Roman Curia, which transcends individuals and is based on the perpetuity of offices. Conclusions During the first centuries of the history of the papacy, the pope was buried in the manner of a bishop, which is to say on the same day of his death (generally entombed at night). With few episodes of worship confined to the period of Gregory the Great, no papal funerary ritual was developed prior to the eleventh-twelfth centuries, a period in which the texts — especially the Liber pontificalis — reflected a new interest in the honour of funerals and for the care taken about the remains of the pope. In the course of the thirteenth century one sees a progressive lengthening of the period between the death and the burial, which is explained by the introduction of an extended public exposure of the papal remains in St Peter’s Basilica in Rome or in the principal church in the city where the pope died. The prolonged exposure of the corpse (usually three days) made use of embalming procedures as necessary; these were more refined than in previous centuries, providing internal, rather than just external, embalming of the body.

 15 For all these testimonies, see Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, pp. 128–31.  16 Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body, p. 129.

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Figure 1.1. Arnolfo di Cambio, Tomb of Pope Boniface VIII (1294–1303), Vatican City, Vatican Basilica Crypt.

Since the thirteenth century, and including the Avignon period, the papal funerary ritual dissociated the physical dimension of the pope’s condition and the perpetuity of the Roman Church. Hence the birth of a discourse and ritual of caducity that eventually also included the near ritualistic abandonment of the body. That is also why the ceremonial arrangement featured the fact that upon his death the pope loses his potestas. For this reason, the ‘ring of the fisherman’ is entrusted to the camerlengo and the matrix for the bull that served to print the name of the reigning pope is destroyed (but not that which was used to reproduce the images of the two Roman apostles, Peter and Paul). The different ritual phases described by Pierre Ameil and François de Conzié reflect the long ceremonial evolution of which several elements from the thirteenth century are evidenced on the tombs of the popes and cardinals that remain extant in numerous churches of Viterbo (the city where the papal court sojourned for about twenty years in the thirteenth century, particularly in the years 1260 and 1270), and of Rome, and clearly refer directly to the papal funeral ceremony. The tomb of the French Cardinal Ancher of Troyes, nephew of Pope Urban IV (1261–1264), which can be admired in the Roman church of Saint Praxedes, is the first of the funerary monuments in which the deceased lies on a funerary cloth (decorated in heraldic motifs with clear mortuary symbolism: the rose and the fleur-de-lys). The effigy of Pope Boniface VIII (1294–1303), in the famous sarcophagus realized by Arnolfo di Cambio around 1296, depicts a covering composed of two cloths: the upper is decorated with medallions bearing the arms of the pope’s family (Figure 1.1). All the funerary statues of the popes and cardinals from the end of the thirteenth century depict one or two cushions that appear to be covered in ornamental cloth. The sculptures portrayed these dignitaries wearing the liturgical robes we find described in the ceremonials of Pierre Ameil and François Conzié, as well as in the descriptions that come from the openings of several papal tombs dating from the final years of the Middle Ages.

chapter 1. the funerary rite of the papacy at the end of the middle ages

The oldest funerary rituals to have reached us belong to the end of the fourteenth century. They present a ceremonial situation that has a long evolution. The papal corpse is, here, supported, from the final moments of the death of the reigning pope just to the end of the funeral which — as for the Roman and Byzantine emperors — should last nine days. The cardinals clearly appeared as representatives of the Roman Church and as the guarantors of her perpetuity. The ideal vision that comes out of the ritual books is in striking contrast with reality, particularly with regard to the goods that belonged to the pope and were found in the palace at the moment of his death. The pontifical institution attempted to take action, at least following the Gregorian Reform, to limit such pillaging17 and progressively succeeded in restricting the sacking of the palace on the part of the Roman people, it could not alleviate the acts of violence committed in the streets of Rome, nor the pillaging perpetrated by the members of the pope’s entourage.18

 17 The bibliography on pillaging was gathered by Paravicini Bagliani, Il papato nel secolo 13, pp. 159–60.  18 On these remarks, see also Paravicini Bagliani, Morte e elezione del papa, pp. 275–84.

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Bibliography Early Printed Books

Argellata, Pietro, Chirurgia (Venice: Per Gregorium de Gregoriis, 1513) Pipinus, Franciscus, Chronica, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, vol. 9 (Milano, 1726), col. 587–752 Primary Sources

Duchesne, Louis, Le ‘Liber pontificalis’ en Gaule au VIe siècle, vol. 2, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, s. II, [3] (Rome: Impr. de la Paix, 1892) Huygens, R. B. C., (ed.), Lettres de Jacques de Vitry (1160/1170–1240), évêque de Saint-Jeand’Acre (Leiden: Brill, 1960) Salimbene de Adam, Chronica, ed. by Giuseppe Scalia (Bari: Laterza, 1966) Wolkan, Rudolf (ed.), Der Briefwechsel des Eneas Silvius Piccolomini Abt. 2 Briefe als Priester und als Bischof von Triest, Fontes rerum Austriacarum 2, 68 (Vienna: A. Hölder, 1918) Secondary Sources

Dykmans, Marc, Le cérémonial papal de la fin du Moyen Âge à la Renaissance, IV (Brussels and Rome: Institut historique belge de Rome, 1985) Giesey, Ralph E., Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance, trans. by D. Ebnöther, Nouvelle bibliothèque scientifique (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Ladner, Gerhart Burian, Die Papstbildnisse des Altertums und des Mittelalters, 3 vols, Monumenti di antichità cristiana, series II, 4 (Vatican City: Pontificio istituto di archeologia cristiana, 1941–1984) Paravicini Bagliani, Agostino, ‘Rileggendo i testi sulla nudità del papa’, in Glauco Maria Cantarella (ed.), I Re nudi. Congiure, assassini, tracolli ed altri imprevisti nella storia del potere. Atti del Convegno di studio della Fondazione Ezio Franceschini, Certosa del Galluzzo, 19 novembre 1994 (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo, 1996) (Quaderni di cultura mediolatina, 12), pp. 103–25 (reprint with additions in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Il potere del papa. Corporeità, autorappresentazione, simboli, Millennio Medievale, 78. Strumenti e studi, 21 (Florence: E. Del Galluzzo, 2009), pp. 21–44) —— , The Pope’s Body (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2000) —— , Boniface VIII (Paris: Payot, 2003) —— , Il papato nel secolo 13. Cent’anni di bibliografia (1875–2009), Millennio Medievale, 78. Strumenti e studi, 83 (Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2009) —— , Morte e elezione del papa, ‘La corte dei papi’, 22 (Rome: Viella, 2013) Rollo-Koster, Joëlle, Raiding Saint Peter. Empty Sees, Violence, and the Initiation of the Great Western Schism (1378), Brill’s Series in Church History, 32 (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2008) Rudloff, Ernst von, Ueber das Konservieren von Leichen im Mittelalter. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Anatomie und des Bestattungswesens (Freiburg i.Br.: Karl Henn, 1921).

Murielle Gaude-Ferragu

Chapter 2. ‘The Body of the Prince’ Royal and Princely Funerals in Fifteenth-Century France

In the fifteenth century, royal and princely funerals underwent spectacular metamorphoses which were especially marked by the appearance of the effigy, the famous mannequin with a wooden body and a wax face and hands that represented the deceased in all his or her majesty, wearing the royal costume and supplied with the regalia. In this respect, Charles VI’s 1422 funeral rites constituted a turning point; the innovations were introduced in a precise context, tied as they were to the king’s madness and to the succession crises which followed, yet these rites were to enjoy a brilliant future which persisted until the beginning of the seventeenth century. In a ceremonial that mirrored their spouses, fifteenth-century queens, like their husbands, embodied royal dignity and received the same funerary honours, marked by the participation of the présidents of the Parlement of Paris, among others, or the presence of the dais and the effigy (Isabeau of Bavaria, Charlotte of Savoy). In the same way, the spectacle of the deaths of the kingdom’s princes, often the king’s relatives and owners of vast territories, cast a final earthly light. Between royal imitation and chivalrous innovations, their funerals demonstrated the ceremonial effervescence of the late Middle Ages through a complex game that mixed art and power. The Funeral of Charles VI (1422), or the Metamorphosis of the Royal Rite The ‘Invention’ of the Effigy

Since the beginning of the thirteenth century, royal funerals were characterized by the public exposure of the corpse, with its face and hands presented à découvert (uncovered), adorned with the royal costume and surrounded by the regalia. In 1314, Philip IV the Fair was carried in this way through the streets of Paris on a litter, dressed in an ermine-lined coat, his head encircled with a crown,

Murielle Gaude-Ferragu is Professor of History at the Université Paris-13, Sorbonne-Paris-Cité. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 57–72  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120751

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and holding the sceptre and the main de justice.1 Such a display was not specific to France: it was a ritual of sovereignty that was also practised at the pontifical court and in England.2 However, upon Charles VI’s death (21 October 1422, in his hôtel Saint-Pol in Paris), it was not possible to respect tradition due to the lengthy interval between the king’s passing and his interment.3 The succession was complex: Charles VI was the mad king who had reigned over France intermittently since 1380. The political void created by his illness had plunged the kingdom into civil war, which was followed by the English conquest. This was the disaster of Azincourt (1415), followed by the signing of the Treaty of Troyes (May 1420), which established a double monarchy: Charles VI and his wife, Isabeau of Bavaria, deprived the dauphin (the future Charles VII) of his rights by excluding him from the succession to the crown. Charles VI gave his daughter, Catherine, to the English king, Henry V. At Charles VI’s death, the two kingdoms were to remain independent, but under the tutelage of a single monarch: Henry V and his successors. The English king died at Vincennes on 31 August 1422, leaving his young son, Henry VI (then ten months old) as his heir, represented in France by John, the Duke of Bedford. Yet, when Charles VI died in October of the same year, the regent was settling the Norman affairs in Rouen.4 Charles VI’s interment had to wait until the duke’s return, and the body was about to present the first signs of decomposition. Charles VI’s physicians and surgeons embalmed the body (‘and it was found that his heart and liver were healthy’)5 and filled it with herbs and spices,6 however such procedures could not preserve the corpse more than a few days ( John of Bedford did not return until 5 November, more than 15 days after the royal death). The organizers of the funeral ceremony, the chancellor of France, Jean Le Clerc, and several royal counsellors — acting on their own or on the orders of the Duke of Bedford — decided to place the body on a funeral bier following its brief exposition in the mortuary chamber.7 The presentation at the hôtel

 1 Charles Baudon de Mony, ‘La mort et les funérailles de Philippe le Bel d’après un compte rendu à la cour de Majorque’, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Chartres, 58 (1897), 7.  2 See Agostino Paravicini Bagliani’s chapter on the papal body and Joel Burden’s chapter on English sovereigns in the present volume, pp. 47–56 and pp. 89–106 respectively.  3 He died of quartian fever, Clément de Fauquembergue, Journal, ed. by Alexandre Tuetey, 3 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1903), vol. 2, p. 59.  4 Jean of Bedford was in Rouen, where he had accompanied the body of his brother, Henry V. He stayed there to attend to administrative and military affairs.  5 ‘et fut trouvé qu’il avoit le cuer et le foye net’, Chronique anonyme du règne de Charles VI, published in Chronique d’Enguerrand de Monstrelet, ed. by Louis Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1857–1862), vol. 6, p. 324.  6 See the accounts of the funeral published in Yann Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, Bulletin philologique et historique du comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (1970), 133–86 (a publication which was made from a seventeenth-century copy of the register conserved at Paris’s Chambre des Comptes, Bibliothèque Municipale de Rouen, collection Leber 5870, manuscript Menant vol. 8, fols 134–72). The body had been covered with a waxen canvas and linen shroud before being placed in lead (mis en plomb).  7 The measurements taken were then ratified by the regent, accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 159–61.

c hapter 2. ‘the body of the prince’

Saint-Pol was public and lasted three days, ‘and there anyone who wished, could see [the body], and could pray for him’.8 This allowed various constituencies (royal counsellors, members of the Parlement and of the Chambre des comptes, the University of Paris and the collèges), the Parisian magistrates (prévôts of Paris and of the merchants, échevins and bourgeois) to gather before the corpse one last time and, most importantly, to certify the reality of the king’s death.9 The body was presented on a lit de parement, covered with a cloth-of-gold pall, and surrounded by eight continuously burning candles. Then, Charles VI’s body was deposited in a lead casket and brought down to the hôtel Saint-Pol’s lower chapel.10 The funeral vigil continued until 9 November, the date on which the deceased was transported to his final resting place. The wake was accompanied by numerous liturgical celebrations (high and low masses and vigils), which the king’s chaplains celebrated first, followed by members of Paris’s four mendicant orders, who took turns in performing a veritable shield of prayers around the deceased. Four large candles made of 40 pounds of wax were placed at the coffin’s corners, in addition to 12 candles of 24 pounds of wax blazing on the altar.11 But with the body on a funerary bier, a representation was needed to respect the royal display ritual. The idea of a funerary mannequin, of English origin (the first effigy was used in 1327 for English king Edward II), was, perhaps, suggested to the chancellor and the counsellors by John of Bedford. Or perhaps they took the initiative themselves, since this solution would seem obvious to them: Henry V’s Norman convoy had used an effigy less than two months earlier.12 Charles VI’s painter, François d’Orléans, immediately fashioned the king’s mortuary mask, creating a replica of the king’s face and hands: Le chief et visage d’iceluy moslé et fait sur son propre visage et après la vie le plus proprement que on a peu, et ledit chief garny de poil au plus près de la chevelure que portoit ledit seigneur et aussy les mains moslees et faictes après la vie, et vestues de gans blancs brodez [its head and face cast from [the king’s] own face and from life as truly as possible, and the aforementioned head [was] embellished with hair as close to that which the aforesaid seigneur had, and the hands [were] also moulded and made from life, and dressed with white embroidered gloves].13

 8 Colette Beaune (ed.), Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris (Paris: Librairie générale française, 1990), p. 192: ‘et là le voyait chacun qui voulait, pour prier pour lui’.  9 Enguerrand de Monstrelet, Chronique, ed. by Louis Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1857–1862), vol. 4, p. 120 and Chronique de Charles VI, p. 324.  10 Account in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 180.  11 Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 180.  12 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. 4, pp. 112–13. On English funerals, see Joel Burden’s chapter in the present volume, pp. 89–106.  13 Accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 177.

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During this time, haberdashers, embroiderers, and goldsmiths tackled the making of the costume de parement and of the regalia. Before departing for Notre-Dame, the effigy was dressed in a gown and coat of red cloth-of-gold, both of which were lined with ermine. The shoes were azure velvet with fleurs-de-lis.14 The Parisian goldsmith, Christophe de Harlint, fashioned the regalia: a gold-plated silver crown chiselled only ‘on the side and in front’ since the back was not visible, a sceptre decorated with fleurs-de-lis, a gold-plated silver main de justice, and a gold ring. The adoption of the effigy thus permitted the deceased to be represented in all his majesty, substituting a putrefying corpse which could no longer be openly exposed. In this way, the king appeared in the funerary train and at the liturgical celebrations at Notre-Dame and Saint-Denis. The Convoy and the Liturgical Ceremonies: Between Tradition and Innovation

The funeral train transported Charles VI’s corpse from the hôtel Saint-Pol to the cathedral of Notre-Dame of Paris for the first liturgical celebration (9–10 November), then from Notre-Dame to the abbey of Saint-Denis, the burial place of the kings of France, for the interment itself. As was traditional, the Parisian clergy led the procession: religious communities on one side (mendicant orders, the collèges, Sainte-Catherine-du-Val-des-Ecoliers, the Mathurins, the Billettes, Sainte-Croix, Saint-Merri, Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, the parishes, the canons of Notre-Dame and of the palace’s Sainte-Chapelle) and the rector and doctors of the university of Paris on the other.15 The prelates (the bishops of Paris, Chartres, and Thérouanne, the abbots of Saint-Magloire, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and Sainte-Geneviève) walked closer to the body.16 A large part of the procession was composed of members of the deceased’s household: 310 officers received gowns and black hoods (costing a total of 1352 livres tournois).17 Two hundred échansons, panetiers, and valets of the chambre carried torches weighing six pounds of wax decorated with royal fleurs-de-lis.18 The accounts prove that funeral trains’ famous pleurants were present, not poor individuals remunerated for the occasion, but, rather, servants from the king’s household.19 The effigy was at the procession’s centre, and the highest-ranking members of the king’s household, as well as those from the royal administration, surrounded it, some walking in front of it and others following behind. With the prévôt of Paris,  14 Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 171. On the description of the effigy, cf. the ‘Cérémonial de l’inhumation de Charles VI’, published in Ralph Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), p. 299 (after a manuscript conserved at the BnF., Ms. fr. 18764, fol. 119) and Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. 4, p. 122.  15 Ceremony published in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 298.  16 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. 4, p. 120.  17 Accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 172. Present were the maîtres d’hôtel, échansons, panetiers, fruitiers, valets de chambre, fourriers, see ‘Cérémonial’, published in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 300.  18 ‘Cérémonial’, published in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 300.  19 On the presence of the poor at the funeral services, Priscille Aladjidi, Le Roi, père des pauvres. France XIIIe–XVe siècle (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008), pp. 355–86.

c hapter 2. ‘the body of the prince’

the household’s grands officiers walked ahead of the effigy: the first chamberlain, the stable’s squires and the deceased’s maîtres d’hôtel. Following the effigy were the great officers of the crown, the chancellor of France, counsellors, maîtres des requêtes, officers of the Chambre des comptes, and the king’s notaries and secretaries. The effigy itself rested on a litter, carried by the king’s valets de porte to Notre-Dame, then, on the long route to Saint-Denis, by the hanouars (‘salt porters’), who were accustomed to transporting heavy loads (here, the heavy lead coffin with the effigy on top). The litter was covered with an immense pall of red cloth-of-gold, bordered by azure velvet covered in fleurs-de-lis.20 The four presidents of the Parlement of Paris, who were dressed in red (with ermine-lined cloaks, the clothing of their profession) supported the pall’s corners. They did not wear mourning clothes, demonstrating that royal justice never died.21 Additionally, the effigy was covered with a dais of the same red cloth-of-gold bordered with embroidered fleurs-de-lis and carried on eight lances by the prévôt of the merchants and the échevins of Paris.22 Finally, as regent and representative of the deceased’s successor (Henri VI), the Duke of Bedford walked alone directly behind the effigy. According to the account of Saint-Denis’s clergy, Bedford wore a black mourning coat and a hood with a short cornet.23 A well-known illumination by Philippe de Mazerolles illustrates Jean Chartier’s text (Chroniques du règne de Charles VII) and represents the funeral train, offering one of the loveliest representations of an effigy [Plate I]. Crowned, the effigy holds the sceptre and the main de justice, and wears a ceremonial costume entirely covered in fleurs-de-lis, allowing the viewer to identify the monarch clearly, who is further distinguished by the face: the eyes are shown open, as they would be in the king’s eternal glory. The litter is covered with a pall of red cloth-of-gold and supported by the presidents of the Parlement of Paris, also dressed in red. On the other hand, the painter does not represent the dais, which would have disturbed the visibility of the effigy and the three knights who, in the background, hold the royal sword, the helm, and the shield with fleurs-de-lis. In reality, these elements were absent from the convoy, but here the painter represents the funerary etiquette of the court to which he

 20 Accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 175. The effigy’s head rested on pillows of vermillion velvet which were supplied with four pearl buttons.  21 In describing the funeral of Charles VII (1461), Martial d’Auvergne explains the meaning of the costume: ‘En exemple et significance / Que Justice jamais ne bouge / Pour trespas du Roy, ne muance’, Martial d’Auvergne, ‘Les vigilles de la mort du Roy Charles VII’, in Les poésies de Martial de Paris, dit d’Auvergne, procureur au Parlement, 2 vols (Paris: impr. de A.-U. Coustelier, 1724), vol. 2, p. 170.  22 Bellaguet (ed.), Chronique du Religieux de Saint-Denys, preface by B. Guenée (Paris: Ed. du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1994), new edn, Livre XLIII, p. 491. On the literary description of the dais, Chronique de Charles VI, p. 325. According to the author, the dais was carried from the exit of the hôtel Saint-Pol by the prévôt of the merchants and the échevins of the city of Paris. ‘Et ensuite fut porté par les plus notables bourgeois chacun à son tour’ (And was then carried by the most notable bourgeois, each taking a turn). Upon arrival at Saint-Denis, the abbey’s monks replaced them.  23 Bellaguet, Chronique de Saint-Denys, p. 491. To the people’s outrage, the princes of the blood, and notably Philip, Duke of Burgundy, did not make the journey.

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belonged; that of the dukes of Burgundy, who exhibited the ‘pièces d’honneur’ of the deceased.24 The liturgical ceremonies also mixed tradition and innovation. The first funerary service took place in front of the body in the cathedral of Notre-Dame, with vigils on 9 November and a celebration of requiem mass, sung by Jean de La Rochetaillée, bishop of Paris and patriarch of Constantinople, the following day.25 Then, after the long procession to Saint-Denis, the same celebrations were performed in the royal burial church. Vigils were followed by a requiem mass the next morning, once again performed by the bishop of Paris (with the abbot of Saint-Denis’s permission), along with ‘the bishop of Chartres, who served the office of deacon, and the abbot of Saint-Denis ( Jean de Bourbon de la Boulaye), who served the office of subdeacon’.26 In both churches, the décor, though ephemeral, was resplendent. There, the body shone, lit by multiple lights, an image which anticipated the Paradise promised to the chosen: candles were placed atop the mourning cloth decorated with fleurs-de-lis, and ornamenting the nave and choir (with 1227 one-pound candles).27 Candles also illuminated the principal altars and the chapelle ardente (mortuary chapel), the décor’s principal element. The mortuary chapel was a wooden structure,28 covered with fine black cloth embroidered with royal coats of arms, and with an azure satin band with fleurs-de-lis.29 The four gables (which intersected, each topped with a cross) were also covered in satin, and together supported a large fleur-de-lis.30 The chapel scintillated with hundreds of candles,31 while four large torches (of 30 pounds of wax) were placed in the corners of the coffin-effigy ensemble.32 The royal arms covered the space entirely. In addition to the mortuary chapel’s decor, at Notre-Dame as at Saint-Denis, the nave, choir, and pillars of the church were hung with an azure fleurs-de-lis cloth (at Saint-Denis, the chapel

 24 Philippe de Mazerolles was Charles Le Téméraire’s valet de chambre; the manuscript which he illuminated (BnF. Ms. fr. 2691) was intended for Louis of Bruges, Bruges, between 1470 and 1479.  25 The abbot of Saint-Germain ( Jean Bourron) read the gospel and the abbot of Saint-Magloire (Pierre Louvel) read the epistle, Chronique de Charles VI, p. 326.  26 ‘L’évêque de Chartres fit l’office de diacre, et l’abbé de Saint-Denys (Jean de Bourbon de la Boulaye) celui de sous-diacre’, Bellaguet, Chronique de Saint-Denys, pp. 495–97.  27 Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 180.  28 14 feet long by 8 feet wide, accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 178.  29 ‘Lorsqu’on entra dans l’église (l’abbaye de Saint Denis), on y trouva aussi un nouveau luminaire non seule­ ment au-dessus d’une espèce de chapelle en bois construite au milieu du chœur et couverte de draperies noires fleurdelisées, sous laquelle reposait le corps … , mais encore tout autour du chœur et de l’église’ (When one entered the Church of Saint-Denis, one discovered also a new source of light not only above the wooden chapel built in the middle of the choir and covered with a black cloth embroided with fleur-de-lis beneath which lay the corpse … but also around the choir and the Church), Bellaguet, Chronique de Saint-Denys, p. 493.  30 Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 176.  31 As many as 825 candles were placed in the mortuary chapel at Notre-Dame of Paris, accounts in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 180.  32 In total, 4753 pounds of wax were used at Notre-Dame and 5679 at Saint-Denis. For all of the rituals together, the lighting cost 2232 livres tournois.

c hapter 2. ‘the body of the prince’

of Saint John the Baptist, where Charles VI was buried, was likewise decorated with such a band). Banners, pennants, and blazons also ornamented the two edifices. Attached at the cathedral’s entrance there were two banners and two pennants of vast dimensions, while large escutcheons with the royal arms topped the pillars of Notre-Dame’s principal portal.33 This decor, full of fleurs-de-lis, was one of the characteristics of royal funerals: the princes of the blood (the dukes of Burgundy, of Berry, of Anjou), on the other hand, transformed their burial place into a space of mourning, covered in a vast emblazoned black cloth. In the illuminations of the Grandes Chroniques de France, Jean Fouquet had, of course, systematized the utilization of azure fleurdelisé, but his decor corresponded well with the reality of royal funerals of the fifteenth century. In addition to the effigy’s appearance, Charles VI’s funeral introduced a new ritual around the tomb: the cry of succession. It is true that in the troubled political context of the first quarter of the fifteenth century, royal funerals played an exceptional role as a ‘ritual of inauguration’. On the one hand, it was necessary to affirm the handover of royal powers to the English (against the potential rights of the dauphin, Charles), and, on the other hand, to uphold Bedford’s role as regent of France, since some people preferred the Duke of Burgundy.34 It should be remembered that, at the heart of the convoy, the Duke of Bedford had directly followed the coffin, presenting himself as the representative of the young Henry VI in France — the king’s successor was not yet to be voluntarily absent from his predecessor’s funeral, quite the contrary.35 The chief herald’s cry at the Saint-Denis grave insisted upon the English transmission. First, the huissiers d’armes broke their rods, throwing them into the grave, then the sergeants lowered their maces, a sign of the king’s death. The chief herald then launched the following cry: ‘God willing, have pity and mercy on the soul of the most excellent, most high, and most powerful Charles, king of France, sixth of this name, natural and sovereign seigneur’; ‘God give a good life to Henry, by the grace of God king of France and of England, our sovereign seigneur’.36 The sergeants lifted their maces, crying, ‘Long live the king, long live the king, long live the king’.37 Nevertheless, the ritual had no performative power, since it did

 33 Bellaguet, Chronique de Saint-Denys, p. 493.  34 Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris is a witness to this: on the return from Saint-Denis, Jean of Bedford had carried ‘l’épée du roi de France devant lui, comme régent, dont le peuple murmurait fort’, Beaune, Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, p. 196. The carrying of the épée joyeuse is here a symbol of the new regent’s entrance into service, an aspect absent from all other inauguration ceremonies.  35 Similarly, during the requiem mass, Bedford alone had gone to the offering, ‘Cérémonial’, published in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 302.  36 ‘Dieu veuille avoir pitié et mercy de l’âme de très excellent, très hault et puissant Charles, roy de France, VIe de ce nom, naturel et souverain seigneur’; ‘Dieu doint bonne vie à Henri, par la grâce de Dieu roy de France et d’Angleterre, nostre souverain seigneur’.  37 ‘Vive le roy, vive le roy, vive le roy.’, Chronique de Charles VI, p. 326. There are several versions of the cry that was delivered: ‘Priez pour l’ame de tres excellent prince Charles VI, roy de France’, and so on, as it was usually made. And shortly after, a herald cried loudly, ‘Vive Henry par la grace de Dieu roy de France et d’Angleterre’, ‘Cérémonial’, published in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 303.

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little more than express — in word and in action — the succession agreement which had been negotiated two years earlier in the Treaty of Troyes.38 The ceremony’s organizers took great care to stage the king’s final entry, and the funeral cost a total of approximately 9000 livres tournois.39 In the context of this complicated succession, the organizers nevertheless attempted to reduce expenditure by reusing precious textiles. To this end, cloth-of-gold, ermine, and fleurs-de-lis were removed from other decors, recut, and resewn. The king’s ceremonial gown and coat, for example, were fashioned using cloth-of-gold which had already served for the king’s blanket at the hôtel Saint-Pol, and the dais originated from one of the king’s chambers.40 The Legacy of Charles VI’s Funeral

The innovations introduced at Charles VI’s death permanently marked the royal funeral ceremony. Charles VII, who died in 1461 in his château of Mehun-sur-Yèvre, received the same honours, marked by the presentation of the effigy in majesty, the exposition of decors and precious parements (cloth-of-gold pall, dais, coats of arms, a blue mourning ribbon with fleurs-de-lis…) and with specific rituals like the cry of succession.41 The principal change concerned the ceremonial costume, which was no longer made of red cloth-of-gold, but, rather, of blue fleurs-de-lis-covered velvet lined with ermine (as used in coronations).42 Poor individuals were also remunerated for their participation in the procession, where they replaced servants as the candle-bearers.43 Louis XI did not travel to attend his father’s funeral, and Louis II of Orléans led the mourning train. His mother, Marie of Clèves, Duchess of Orléans, was present at Saint-Denis, which was exceptional given that women generally did not attend men’s funerals.44 In 1498, upon Charles VIII’s death, the funeral ceremony was largely similar.45  38 Later accounts gave a revised version of the funeral cry, in favour of a transmission of power to the dauphin: ‘Priez pour l’âme du très excellent prince Charles VI de ce nom très glorieux et victorieux et bien servy lequel débouta et expulsa à l’aide de Dieu omnipotent les Anglois’, BnF, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal Ms. 4226, fol. 150 (‘Ordre et cérémonie observée à l’enterrement du roi Charles VI en l’an 1422’).  39 In comparaison, nearly 13,000 livres tournois were spent for Philip the Good in Bruges in 1467, Archives départementales du Nord, B 2064, fol. 232v.  40 Account in Grandeau, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, 173–75.  41 Mathieu d’Escouchy, Chroniques, ed. by Georges du Fresne de Beaucourt, 3 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1863–1864), vol. 2, p. 443.  42 Escouchy, Chroniques, vol. 2, p. 433. On the royal habit, see Monique Chatenet and Anne-Marie Lecoq, ‘“Le roi et ses doubles”. Usages vestimentaires royaux au XVIe siècle’, Revue de l’Art. Costume de cour au XVIe siècle, 174 (4) (2011), 21–31.  43 Escouchy, Chroniques, vol. 2, p. 429. The account indicates that there was also a huissier d’armes on horseback in the convoy, ‘portant les armes du roy’ and marching before the body was a second, ‘portant la masse’, Escouchy, Chroniques, vol. 2, p. 426. By ‘armes du roy’, should we understand his helm, his coat of arms, or his sword? The author undoubtedly refers to a piece of clothing, the tabard, with the king’s arms.  44 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), pp. 157–64.  45 Alain Boureau, Le simple corps du roi. L’impossible sacralité des souverains français XVe–XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Ed. de Paris-M. Chaleil, 1988), pp. 95–114 (publication of Pierre d’Urfé’s ordinance

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The wax mannequin represented the monarch in majesty, a substitute for the corpse which could no longer be displayed, but also as a portrayal of the glorious body destined in the Resurrection.46 Nevertheless, among medieval funerals, one monarch was an exception: practising the art of differentiation, Louis XI (d. 1483) wanted to be buried like a simple worshipper, with neither effigy nor funerary pomp, not at Saint-Denis but, rather, at Notre-Dame of Cléry, a collegiate church which conserved a miraculous statue of the Virgin, to whom the king dedicated much devotion. The king died at Plessis-Lès-Tours and his body was embalmed before being transported to Saint-Martin of Tours, where the canons displayed the body for several days before transporting it, without pomp, to Cléry.47 ‘A Woman in Majesty’: The Queen’s Funeral in Fifteenth-Century France

Along with their husbands, queens incarnated royal dignity, a dignity which their funerals displayed. From this perspective, the services that Charles V organized for his wife, Jeanne of Bourbon (d. 1378), constitute a turning point in the communication of royal politics: a ceremonial transformation, but also a literary and iconographic one, as the king’s chancellor, Pierre d’Orgemont, related the funeral at considerable length alongside a lovely illumination in his Chroniques [see Plate II].48 The body was exposed in the convoy, equipped with regalia (crown, sceptre, verge à la rose). The presidents of the Parlement of Paris held the cords of the cloth-of-gold pall and the prévôt of the merchants and échevins held a red and gold dais above the litter.49 Numerous people rendered a final homage to the queen: men (prelates, princes including her brother, Louis II of Bourbon, and the king’s officers) as well as women (the

 46

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 48  49

organ­i­zing Charles VIII’s funeral in 1498). See Monique Chatenet’s chapter in the present volume, pp. 185–207. Recent historiography has effectively shown that the French king had but one body; the effigy never incarnated the monarchical permanence, the political and immortal body of the sovereign. On the debates about the effigy, see Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. The theory is contested by Boureau, Le simple corps du roi, pp. 28–34, and by Elisabeth A. R. Brown, ‘Royal Bodies, Effigies, Funeral Meals, and Office in Sixteenth-Century France’, in Jacques Chiffoleau and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (eds), Le Cadavre, Anthropologie, archéologie, imaginaire social, Micrologus, vol. 7 (Florence: SISMEL – Edizioni del Galluzzo, 1999), p. 502 and in Elisabeth A. R. Brown, ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges, and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 113–30. Jean de Roye, Chronique scandaleuse, ed. by Bernard de Mandrot, 2 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1894–1896), vol. 2, pp. 137 and 398. Patrice Georges, ‘Le caveau royal de Cléry-Saint-André (Loiret). Que sont devenus les os de Louis XI?’, in Tombeaux royaux et princiers, Dossiers Archéologie et sciences des origines, 311 (March, 2006), 92. Grandes Chroniques de France (exemplaire possédé par Charles V), BnF. Ms. fr. 2813, fol. 480v. Robert Delachenal (ed.), Chroniques des règnes de Jean II et de Charles V, 3 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1910–1916), vol. 2, pp. 279–82. On queens’ funerals more generally, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, La reine de France (XIVe–XVe siècle). Le pouvoir au féminin (Paris: Tallandier, 2014), pp. 187–92 and Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, Queenship in Medieval France 1300–1500 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), pp. 141–49.

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dowager queen Blanche of Navarre, the Duchess Blanche of Orléans and the ladies-in-waiting).50 As discussed above, the fifteenth century’s principal innovation was the effigy’s introduction into the royal funerary rite in 1422. Beginning with Isabeau of Bavaria’s death in 1435, the queen also received such a representation. Like her husband, Isabeau died in the hôtel Saint-Pol, in Paris (29 September). Her body was displayed uncovered for three days, before being lowered into a lead coffin. The convoy set off for Notre-Dame 15 days later, on 13 October. The queen was accompanied by 14 crieurs de corps, 100 torchbearers, the Parisian clergy, prelates (the abbot of Sainte-Geneviève, who officiated, the bishop of Paris, the bishop of Thérouanne), English lords (Lords Scales and Willoughby), her sister-in-law, Catherine of Alençon, and several ladies-in-waiting.51 An effigy represented the queen: Le corps … était en haut levé sur les épaules de seize hommes vêtus de noir, et était sa représentation [effigie] moult bien faite, car elle était couchée si proprement qu’il semblait qu’elle dormît, et tenait un sceptre royal en sa main dextre [The body … was raised up on the shoulders of sixteen men dressed in black, and its representation [the effigy] was very well-made, as it was laid out so properly that it looked as if she were sleeping, and held a royal sceptre in her right hand].52 For reasons of potential insecurity (linked to the presence of the Armagnacs), the trajectory from Notre-Dame to the abbey of Saint-Denis was made via the Seine [Plate III]. Isabeau was buried in the chapel of Saint John the Baptist, alongside Charles VI. It appears that an effigy did not figure in the convoy of Marie of Anjou, Charles VII’s widow, whose funeral was celebrated in Paris on 26 January 1464 (the queen had died in December 1463 at the abbey of the Châtelliers, while returning from a pilgrimage to Saint James of Compostela).53 A wax mannequin represented Charlotte of Savoy, however, in the funerary train which transported her body to Notre-Dame of Cléry in December 1483. An exceptional account conserved at the French National Archives mentions a payment to Jean Bourdichon, the king’s painter,54 for having devised a

 50 Previously, in 1371 Jeanne of Evreux, widow of Charles IV the Fair, the last Capetian sovereign, enjoyed a sumptuous funeral, with a pall of cloth-of-gold, carried by the presidents of the Parlement of Paris, and a dais. Charles V accompanied the corpse, yet he was absent from the burial of his wife, Jeanne of Bourbon, see Delachenal, Chroniques de Jean II et de Charles V, vol. 2, p. 152.  51 Beaune (ed.), Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, p. 343. The bourgeois of Paris allows the reader to believe that the queen was buried poorly, abandoned by all, which is far from the truth.  52 Beaune (ed.), Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris, p. 343.  53 Bernard Chevalier, ‘Marie d’Anjou, une reine sans gloire, 1404–1463’ in Geneviève and Philippe Contamine (eds), Autour de Marguerite d’Ecosse. Reines, princesses et dames du XVe siècle, Actes du colloque de Thouars 23 et 24 mai 1997 (Paris: Champion, 1999), pp. 81–98.  54 Bourdichon succeeded Jean Fouquet as the king’s official painter in 1481. François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, Les manuscrits à peintures en France 1440–1520 (Paris: Flammarion, 1995), p. 293.

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wooden body ‘appropriate to the grandeur of the aforementioned lady’ and having painted the wax face ‘according to her likeness’.55 To fashion the effigy, Bourdichon had taken the advice of dowager duchess Marie of Clèves, who recalled aulic ceremonial, as she had attended numerous such rites (like those celebrated upon the death of Charles VII). Having died on 1 December 1483 in the Château of Amboise, Charlotte of Savoy’s body was embalmed before being presented publicly on a lit de parement in the royal chamber for three days. Four candles surrounded her body, which clerics exposed day and night. After being placed on the funerary bier, the wake continued for ten days inside the château’s collegiate church of Saint-Florentin, transformed for the occasion into a place of mourning: the main altar was dressed with black velvet and taffeta, the 14 secondary altars with black buckram, and a mourning ribbon enveloped the choir and nave. A chapelle ardente illuminated the casket. It was at Cléry, for her final entry, that the queen was presented in majesty, surrounded by numerous mourners: religious, the poor (carrying torches), members of her household and her relatives (her brother, Philip of Bresse; her daughter, Jeanne of France; her niece, Anne of Savoy). Her effigy was transported across the town on a litter covered with a cloth-of-gold pall. The queen was dressed in the royal costume, composed of a bi-coloured surcot of red and blue velvet (‘on her arms, the bi-colours of Savoy and of France’), and of a ‘coat de parement’ made of blue satin covered with fleurs-de-lis and lined with ermine (an exact replica of the coat the monarch wore during the great ceremonies of his reign). The regalia were displayed: the mannequin, crowned, was designed to hold the sceptre and the main de justice.56 A dais covered the litter, its canopy made of red cloth-of-gold and decorated with the queen’s coat of arms.57 Charlotte of Savoy was then buried in the collegiate church of Notre-Dame of Cléry, where a mourning ribbon of heraldic decor hung, made of black buckram in the nave, and of velvet in the choir. The lighting was impressive: on 14 December, nearly 700 candles illuminated the mortuary chapel, the choir, and the altars. Six large, 25-pound candles encircled the body.58 On the orders of Charles VIII — her son — and his counsellors, in particular Pierre and Anne of Beaujeu — Charlotte of Savoy enjoyed all of the elements of the royal funerary ritual. The only difference between the customary funerals of kings and queens was that distance prevented the participation of the presidents of the Parlement of Paris and the capital’s magistrates. These groups were, however, present during the celebration of Anne of Brittany’s funeral in 1514, where considerable innovations were added to the traditional

 55 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘L’honneur de la reine: la mort et les funérailles de Charlotte de Savoie (1–14 décembre 1483)’, Revue historique, 652 (2010), 779–804: ‘de la grandeur de ladite dame’, ‘selon sa semblance’.  56 AN, KK 69, fols 116v-120. The head reposed on a carreau d’honneur, covered in drap d’or.  57 AN, KK 69, fol. 121. Four lances supported it, AN, KK 69, fol. 122.  58 Two of these weighed as much as 30 pounds of wax.

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funerary elements; the introduction of the funerary meal rediscovered from antiquity, for example.59 Between Royal Imitation and Ceremonial Affirmation: The Kingdom’s Princes During the fifteenth century, the kingdom’s princes affirmed their identity and their power through the celebration of sumptuous funerals which, among other ceremonies, distinguished them from ‘common mortals’.60 Several codes characterized their funerals: the corpse was embalmed, permitting its conservation for several days longer in its entirety; a lead coffin; a funerary pall, systematically made of cloth-of-gold and emblazoned with the deceased’s arms; the presence of pleurants, usually poor people remunerated for the occasion who were dressed in black gowns and hoods, these ferrymen of eternity sought out for the efficacy of their prayers but whose number also signalled the deceased’s eminence; the participation of the prelates, the nobles, the urban elite, and the group of household officers (who served the personal or public person of the deceased) in the celebration; and a profusion of light, characterized, among other things, by the presence of a chapelle ardente during the liturgical celebrations (Figure 2.1). To these customary codes, certain princes added the exposition of their insignia, allowing them to affirm their sovereignty and distinctive power. The funeral celebrated in honour of Francis II of Brittany, who died in 1488, provides an eloquent example of this. The duke was buried in the Carmelite church of Nantes, not in a lead coffin like most princes, but with his body uncovered and dressed in ceremonial costume, like the king. Furthermore, in the funeral train the ceremony’s organizer, the chancellor of Brittany, Philip of Montauban, displayed two insignia of power: the duke’s sword — given to him during his coronation, and the duchy’s seals — an equestrian seal and a seal of majesty. The placement of these objects can be explained by the difficult context of the Breton succession. It was necessary to demonstrate to everyone in the duchy the deceased’s ‘almost sovereign’ power, so as to affirm his political power and, above all, that of his daughter and heir, Anne of Brittany. The same issue arose in 1503 during the celebration of the funeral of Pierre II, Duke of Bourbon, a funeral which his wife, Anne of Beaujeu, organized. Anne chose to adopt the principal elements of the royal rite: the dais, effigy, and cry of succession. The use of a wax mannequin, however, was reserved solely for the monarchs, their spouses, and princes endowed with a royal title, even if this title was fictive, as with René of Anjou, King of Naples and Sicily (d. 1480). This ceremonial appropriation was justified by Pierre II’s regency during the

 59 See Monique Chatenet’s chapter in the present volume, pp. 185–207 and Pierre-Gilles Girault, Les funér­ailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition catalogue (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014).  60 On this section, see Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres.

c hapter 2. ‘the body of the prince’

Figure 2.1. Funeral convoy of Louis I, duc d’Orleans (1407), Martial d’Auvergne, Les Vigiles de Charles VII, BnF, Ms. fr. 5054, fol. 5 v°.

minority of Charles VIII (1483–1488) and during the king’s departure for Italy (1494–1495). This appropriation further allowed the symbolic affirmation of the Bourbon princes’ power and that of the duchess, Anne, and the deceased’s daughter, Suzanne, in the context of a delicate succession; a succession which was proclaimed in the funerary cry that transformed the ducal funeral into an inaugural ceremony: Vive mes dame et damoyselle duchesses de Bourbonnois et d’Auvergne, contesses de Clermont, de Fourestz, de Gien, de la Marche, vicontesses de Carlat et de Murat, dames de Beaujeulois, de Nonnay et de Bourbon Lanceys [Long live my lady and damsel the duchesses of Bourbonnois and of Auvergne, countesses of Clermont, of Fourestz, of Gien, of La Marche, viscountesses of Carlat and of Murat, ladies of Beaujeulois, of Nonnay, and of Bourbon Lanceys].61 But princes’ funerals were not simple imitations of royal rites. In ritual, interactions were continual. The presence of the poor as torchbearers is first attested to amongst the princely courts.62 In the same manner, for a long time the chivalric offering was specific to the noble realm (it was not introduced into

 61 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 262–63.  62 It is only under Charles VII that the torchbearers, dressed in mourning, were poor people remunerated for the occasion.

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the royal rite until 1498, with the death of Charles VIII).63 Appearing in the mid-thirteenth century in Flanders and England, the display of the deceased’s arms, banners, and horses characterized numerous princely convoys throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In the cortège which led Louis of Male, Count of Flanders, to the collegiate church of Saint Pierre of Lille in 1384, 16 knights preceded the deceased prince. Some held his banners and others — the knights — his complete armour (both his tournament and war shield, lance, sword, and helmets).64 These honorific objects were then left on the altar inside the burial place, doubling the normal liturgical offering.65 The chivalric offering organized for the burial of Louis of Male was impressive for the number of ‘arms’ offered: Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy and Louis’s successor, presented the prince’s war shield, followed by numerous gentlemen who, successively, delivered all of his pieces of armour (40 in total, eight shields, eight swords, eight chargers, eight helms, and eight banners, either of war or of tournament). One must imagine that this vast military parade traversed the entire church up to the altar. The horses’ entrance, with all of the difficulties and inconveniences it could cause, is one of the most surprising elements. This military armament, and in particular the deceased’s sword or shield, was occasionally used to symbolically affirm the transmission of power. This was notably the case in the principality of Foix-Béarn, as demonstrated in a commemorative ceremony organized in 1414, two years after the death of the count, Archambaud of Grailly, which took place in the Dominican church of Orthez.66 During the offering, the officiant was handed the count’s sword ‘completely bare’ (a sign of death); then the count’s son and successor, Jean I, received his shield which he immediately straightened, presenting it to the assembly of prelates, nobles, and urban communities, and, in doing so, demonstrating that the noble house’s arms were henceforth in his hands.67 Above all, royal and princely funerals were a Christian rite which, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, became a vast public ceremony which participated in the communication of power. The ‘invention’ of the effigy, linked to the 1422 crisis of succession and the English presence, remains one of this transformation’s most remarkable elements, even if recent historiography has demonstrated that the effigy never incarnated the king’s political and immortal body.68  63 The standards (guidon, emblem, pennant, banner), the arms (coat of arms and sword) and the king’s ceremonial horses were then exhibited in the convoy (Boureau, Le simple corps du roi, pp. 100–01).  64 Jean Froissart, Œuvres complètes, ed. by Kervyn de Lettenhove, 25 vols (Brussels: V. Devaux, 1870–1877), vol. 21 (1872), pp. 262–63.  65 For further details on the offering, Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 208–13. See also Alain Marchandisse’s chapter on the funerals of Philip the Good in 1467 and in 1473, in this volume, pp. 73–88.  66 Pierre Tucoo-Chala, ‘Les honneurs funèbres d’Archambaud de Foix-Béarn à Orthez en 1414’, Revue de Pau et du Béarn, 5 (1977), 18.  67 Tucoo-Chala, ‘Les honneurs funèbres’, 19.  68 In addition to the bibliographic references provided in note 46, see Monique Chatenet’s chapter in the present volume, pp. 185–207.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Paris, Archives nationales, KK 69, fols 116v-120 —— , KK 69, fol. 121 —— , KK 69, fol. 122 Paris, BnF, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, Ms. 4226, fol. 150, ‘Ordre et cérémonie observée à l’enterrement du roi Charles VI en l’an 1422’ —— , BnF, Ms. fr. 2813, fol. 480v, Grandes Chroniques de France (exemplaire possédé par Charles V) Early Printed Books

Martial d’Auvergne, ‘Les vigilles de la mort du Roy Charles VII’, in Les poésies de Martial de Paris, dit d’Auvergne, procureur au Parlement, 2 vols (Paris: impr. de A.U. Coustelier, 1724), vol. 2 Primary Sources

Beaune, Colette (ed.), Journal d’un bourgeois de Paris (Paris: Librairie générale française, 1990) Bellaguet (ed.), Chronique du Religieux de Saint-Denys, preface by B. Guenée (Paris: Ed. du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 1994), new edn, Livre XLIII Chronique anonyme du règne de Charles VI, published in Chronique d’Enguerrand de Monstrelet, ed. by Louis Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1857–1862), vol. 6 Delachenal, Robert (ed.), Chronique des règnes de Jean II et de Charles V, 3 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1910–1916), vol. 2 Escouchy, Mathieu d’, Chroniques, ed. by Georges du Fresne de Beaucourt, 6 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1863–1864), vol. 2 Fauquembergue, Clément de, Journal, ed. by Alexandre Tuetey, 3 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1903), vol. 2 Froissart, Jean, Œuvres complètes, ed. by Kervyn de Lettenhove, 25 vols (Brussels: V. Devaux, 1870–1877), vol. 21 (1872), pp. 262–63 Monstrelet, Enguerrand de, Chronique, ed. by Louis Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve de J. Renouard, 1857–1862) Roye, Jean de, Chronique scandaleuse, ed. by Bernard de Mandrot, 2 vols (Paris: H. Laurens, 1894–1896), vol. 2 Secondary Sources

Aladjidi, Priscille, Le Roi, père des pauvres. France XIIIe–XVe siècle (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008) Avril, François and Nicole Reynaud, Les manuscrits à peintures en France 1440–1520 (Paris: Flammarion, 1995)

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Baudon de Mony, Charles, ‘La mort et les funérailles de Philippe le Bel d’après un compte rendu à la cour de Majorque’, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Chartes, 58 (1897), 5–14 Boureau, Alain, Le simple corps du roi. L’impossible sacralité des souverains français XVe– XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Ed. de Paris-M. Chaleil, 1988) Brown, Elisabeth A. R., ‘Royal Bodies, Effigies, Funeral Meals, and Office in SixteenthCentury France’, in Jacques Chiffoleau and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (eds), Le Cadavre, Anthropologie, archéologie, imaginaire social, Micrologus, vol. 7 (Florence: SISMEL – Edizioni del Galluzzo 1999), pp. 437–508 —— , ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges, and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 113–30 Chatenet, Monique and Anne-Marie Lecoq, ‘“Le roi et ses doubles”. Usages vestimentaires royaux au XVIe siècle’, Revue de l’Art. Costume de cour au XVIe siècle, 174 (4) (2011), 21–31 Chevalier, Bernard, ‘Marie d’Anjou, une reine sans gloire, 1404–1463’ in Geneviève and Philippe Contamine (eds), Autour de Marguerite d’Ecosse. Reines, princesses et dames du XVe siècle, Actes du colloque de Thouars 23 and 24 May 1997 (Paris: Champion, 1999), pp. 81–98 Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) —— , ‘L’honneur de la reine: la mort et les funérailles de Charlotte de Savoie (1–14 décembre 1483)’, Revue historique, 652 (2010), 779–804 —— , La reine de France (XIVe–XVe siècle). Le pouvoir au féminin (Paris: Tallandier, 2014) —— , Queenship in Medieval France 1300–1500 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016) Georges, Patrice, ‘Le caveau royal de Cléry-Saint-André (Loiret). Que sont devenus les os de Louis XI?’, in Tombeaux royaux et princiers, Dossiers Archéologie et sciences des origines, 311 (March, 2006), 92–99 Giesey, Ralph, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Girault, Pierre-Gilles, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition catalogue (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014) Grandeau, Yann, ‘La mort et les obsèques de Charles VI’, Bulletin philologique et historique du comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (1970), 133–86 Tucoo-Chala, Pierre, ‘Les honneurs funèbres d’Archambaud de Foix-Béarn à Orthez en 1414’, Revue de Pau et du Béarn, 5 (1977), 18–19.

Alain Marchandisse

Chapter 3. The Funerals of the Dukes of Burgundy in the Fifteenth Century

The death, the funerals, and the tombs of the dukes of Burgundy of the House of Valois have aroused the interest of researchers for a long time;1 even today they are regularly the subject of important publications.2 Within the framework of the present volume, the time has perhaps come for a concise synthesis which could be further developed in other publications, offering more details and raising further questions.3 I will focus on two princes in particular: Philip the Good and Philip the Fair. The circumstances of princely deaths had an inevitable influence on the proceedings of their funerals; accordingly, the dukes of Burgundy experienced very different situations. It is not necessary to discuss at length the assassination of John the Fearless on 10 September 1419 on the bridge of Montereau,4 or the anonymous death of Charles the Bold on the battlefield of Nancy on 5 January 1477 (Figure 3.1).5 Both were subjected to quick in situ funerals. John the Fearless’s corpse, together with the bulk of his bloody clothes, was placed in a coffin at the foot of the altar in one of the lateral chapels in the collegiate

 1 See for example Ernest-Léon Lory, ‘Les obsèques de Philippe-le-Bon, duc de Bourgogne, mort à Bruges en 1467’, Mémoires de la Commission des Antiquités du Département de la Côte d’Or, 7 (1865–1869), 215–46.  2 See, most recently, Werner Paravicini, ‘Theatre of Death. The Transfer of the Remnants of Philip the Good and Isabel of Portugal to Dijon, November 1473–February 1474’, in Karl-Heinz Spieß and Immo Warntjes (eds), Death at Court (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2012), pp. 33–115.  3 Jonathan Dumont, Alain Marchandisse and Christophe Masson, ‘Les funérailles de Philippe le Beau, survivance ducale bourguignonne ou prémices royales espagnoles?’, forthcoming. This text was presented at the 52nd Meeting of the Centre européen d’Études bourguignonnes (Luxembourg, University of Luxembourg, 22–25 September, 2011) and already referred to many of the facts presented in the study mentioned above in n. 2.  4 Bertrand Schnerb, Jean sans Peur. Le prince meurtrier (Paris: Payot, 2005), pp. 671–89, 782–83.  5 Richard Vaughan, Charles the Bold. The last Valois duke of Burgundy (London: Longman, 1973), re-ed. (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2002), pp. 422–32; Pierre Frédérix, La mort de Charles le Téméraire, 5 janvier 1477 (Paris: Gallimard, 1966). Alain Marchandisse is Maître de Recherches at the F.R.S.-FNRS, University of Liège, R. U. Transitions. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 73–88  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120752

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Figure 3.1. The Lorraines discover the corpse of Charles the Bold, Diebold Schilling, Amtliche Berner-Chronik, 1486, Berne, Bibliothèque de la Bourgeoisie de Berne.

church of Montereau;6 Charles the Bold was interred at Saint-Georges in Nancy, as ordered by René II, Duke of Lorraine.7 The four other Burgundian rulers died in accidents — Mary of Burgundy died on 27 March 1482 after a riding accident8 — or due to illness: Philip the Bold, taken on 27 April 1404 at Halle,  6 Enguerrand de Monstrelet, Chronique, ed. by Louis-Claude Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve Jules Renouard, 1857–1862), vol. 3 (1859), p. 347; Jean Lefèvre de Saint-Remy, Chronique, ed. by François Morand, 2 vols (Paris: Loones, 1876–1881), vol. 2, p. 11; George Chastellain, Œuvres, ed. by Joseph Kervyn de Lettenhove, 8 vols (Brussels: F. Heussner, 1863–1866), vol. 1, Chronique, 1419–1422 (1863), p. 144; Bertrand Schnerb, Les funérailles des ducs de Bourgogne Philippe le Hardi et Jean sans Peur, Mémoire de Maîtrise en Histoire, Université Paris-Sorbonne (1982), pp. 25, 32–33. Many thanks to my friend B. Schnerb (Université de Lille) who referred me to this largely unedited work.  7 See note 18.  8 Jean Molinet, Chroniques, ed. by Georges Doutrepont and Omer Jodogne, 3 vols (Brussels; Académie royale de Belgique, 1935–1937), vol. 1, 1474–1488, p. 369; Thomas Basin, Histoire de Louis XI, ed. and

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

fell victim to the cold climate and humidity;9 Philip the Fair, Duke of Burgundy as well as King of Castile, died in Burgos on 25 September 1506, without any doubt from an outbreak of fever;10 and then Philip the Good died at Bruges on 15 June 1467 from a pulmonary bacterial infection.11 After taking their last breath, the dukes of Burgundy, their corpses and their souls, had to be prepared for complex, sometimes distant, funeral services, and for the Christian afterlife. Firstly, for each ruler, the organs were harvested. In the case of Philip the Bold, the heart and the entrails were removed, placed in a ‘cowhide’, and separately buried at Halle (act. Flemish Brabant) and at SaintDenis;12 for Philip the Good, the same operation took place, but the organs were placed in vaisseaulx de plomb (lead vessels) which remained preserved at Saint-Donatian in Bruges whereas his body was eventually placed in the Charterhouse of Champmol, its final resting place.13 As for Philip the Fair’s trans. by Charles Samaran, Monique-Cécile Garand and Geneviève Grand, 3 vols (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1963–1972), vol. 3, 1477–1483, pp. 122–25; Luc Hommel, Marie de Bourgogne ou le Grand Héritage (Brussels: Ad. Goemaere, 1951), pp. 358–59; Yves Cazaux, Marie de Bourgogne, témoin d’une grande entreprise à l’origine des nationalités européennes (Paris: Albin Michel, 1967), pp. 320–23; Georges-Henri Dumont, Marie de Bourgogne (Paris: Fayard, 1982), pp. 316–20.  9 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. 1, p. 88; Religieux de Saint-Denis, Chronique contenant le règne de Charles VI de 1380 à 1422, ed. by Louis-François Bellaguet, 6 vols (Paris: Crapelet, 1839–1852), re-ed., 6 t. in 3 vols (Paris: ed. CTHS, 1994), vol. 2, t. 3, pp. 144–45; Schnerb, Les funérailles des ducs de Bourgogne, pp. 19–20.  10 For a discussion on the causes of this death, among which the plague or poisoning were also cited, see Jean-Marie Cauchies, Philippe le Beau, le dernier duc de Bourgogne (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), pp. 203–08. The testimony of a doctor from Salamanca, who sat at Philip’s bedside, who reported the opinion of his colleagues and envisioned nothing but the ‘heat and cold’, the chill, ‘the uncured cold, pleurisy’, seems to be regarded as decisive: Gonzalo de la Parra, Carta escrita desde Valladolid al Rey Católico, dándole noticia de la enfermedad y muerte de Felipe I, acaecida en Burgos el 25 de setiembre de 1506, in Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda (eds), Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, 113 vols (Madrid: Imprenta de la Viuda de Calejo, 1842–1895), vol. 8 (1846), pp. 394–97.  11 Laurie Baveye, ‘La mort de Philippe le Bon, duc de Bourgogne (15 juin 1467) d’après une lettre de son apothicaire Poly Bulland et les comptes des funérailles de ce prince’, in Cour de France.fr. (2011), see [accessed 15 June 2020].  12 Monstrelet, Chronique, vol. 1, p. 89; Dijon, Archives départementales de la Côte d’Or [= ADCO], B 1538, ed. by Renate Prochno, Die Kartause von Champmol. Grablege der burgundischen Herzöge 1364–1477 (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2002), pp. 266–269 (p. 266); Schnerb, Les funérailles des ducs de Bourgogne, pp. 26–27.  13 Jacques Du Clercq, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, duc de Bourgogne, ed. by Frédéric de Reiffenberg, 2nd edn, 4 vols (Brussels: Lacrosse, 1835–1836), vol. 4, pp. 303, 306–07; Jean de Wavrin, Recueil des croniques et anchiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne, a present nommé Engleterre, ed. by William Hardy and Edward L. C. P. Hardy, 5 vols (London: Longmans Green, 1864–1891), vol. 5, From A.D. 1447 to A.D. 1471, p. 537; Olivier de La Marche, Mémoires, ed. by Henri Beaune and Jules d’Arbaumont, 4 vols (Paris: Renouard-Vve H. Loones successeur, 1883–1888), vol. 3 (1885), pp. 57–58, note 1; Ordonnancement et récit de funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Dijon, ADCO, B 310, ed. by Prochno, Die Kartause, pp. 255–259 (p. 259); Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, Archives départementales du Nord [= ADN], B 2064, ed. by Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), pp. 355–364 (p. 356); Poly Bulland, Lettre escritte aux mayeur et echevins de la ville de Lille, contenant la relation de la maladie et de la mort de Philippe duc de Bourgogne, Bruges, 16 juin 1467, ed. by Gustave Peignot, Choix de testamens anciens et modernes, remarquables par leur importance, leur singularité ou leur bizarrerie; avec des détails historiques et des

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heart, placed in a lead urn, it reached Bruges and was laid to rest beside the remains of his mother.14 After the removal of the organs, the princely bodies were embalmed, a process for which surgeons used herbs and perfumes (aloe, thyme, colophony, lavender, laurel, clove…) to slow the rotting of the flesh and to mask the odours of decomposition.15 Philip the Bold was not exposed, but was dressed in a Carthusian habit, the moniage (in Latin monachatus or monachicum), which testified to his humility and his devotion to the order, to which he had offered the Charterhouse of Champmol. After the exposure, the corpse was wrapped in a shroud and placed in a 700-pound lead casket.16 After a grief-stricken homage received from his son and his subjects who had processed before him in the chamber throughout the course of a day, the body of Philip the Good was placed in the ducal chapel in Bruges on a bier of about six feet high, draped in black velvet embellished with a cross in white damask, and with one large candle at each of the corners of the bier. Religious services were celebrated without interruption until the Sunday following his passing.17 Charles the Bold, dressed in a long linen robe and wearing a red cap, was displayed on a table in a room darkened by black draperies and illuminated by candles, his head positioned notes, 2 vols (Paris-Dijon: Renouard-Victor Lagier, 1829), vol. 1, pp. 115–118 (p. 117); Thierry Pauwels, Sequitur alia narratio de ducibus Burgundiae, ed. by Joseph Kervyn de Lettenove, Chroniques relatives à l’histoire de la Belgique sous la domination des ducs de Bourgogne (Textes latins), 3 vols (Brussels: F. Hayez, 1870–1876), vol. 3, pp. 264–328 (p. 279); Pierre Oudergherst, Chroniques et annales de Flandres (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1571), fol. 336v.  14 Juan de Vallejo, Memorial de la vida de Fray Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros, ed. by Antonio de la Torre y del Cerro (Madrid: Junta para ampliación de estudios é investigaciones cientificas, Centro de estudios históricos, 1913), pp. 111–12; Pedró Mártir de Anglería, Epistolario, ed. by José López de Toro, 4 vols (Madrid: Gongora, 1955–1957), vol. 2, Libros XV-XXIV, Epístolas 232–472 (1955), p. 152 (I am especially grateful to M. Á. Ladero Quesada [Universidad Complutense, Madrid] for having provided me access to these sources); Alonso de Santa Cruz, Crónica del emperador Carlos V, ed. by Ricardo Beltrán y Róspide and Antonio Blázquez y Delgado-Aguilera, 5 vols (Madrid: Imprenta del Patronato de huérdanos de intendencia é intervención militares, 1920–1922), vol. 1, p. 21; Alonso de Santa Cruz, Cronica de los reyes católicos, ed. by Juan de Mata Carriazo (Seville: Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos de Sevilla, 1951), p. 59; Francisco López de Gómara, Annals of the Emperor Charles V, ed. and trans. by Roger Bigelow Merriman (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1912), p. 173; Jan Karel Steppe, ‘Het overbrengen van het hart van Filips de Schone van Burgos naar de Nederlanden in 1506–1507’, Biekorf, 82 (1982), 209–18; Cauchies, Philippe le Beau, p. 210; Miguel Angel Zalama, ‘El rey ha muerto, el rey continúa presente. El interminable viaje de Felipe I de Burgos a Granada’, in Miguel Ángel Zalama and Paul Vandenbroeck (eds), Felipe I El Hermoso. La belleza y la locura (Madrid: Centro de Estudios Europa Hispánica, 2006), pp. 195–210 (pp. 197–199, 208 n. 8); Javier Varela, ‘La muerte del rey’. El ceremonial funerario de la monarquía española (1500–1885) (Madrid: Turner, n. d.), pp. 18–19.  15 Philip the Bold: see note 12; Philip the Good: Du Clercq, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, p. 303; Wavrin, Recueil des croniques, p. 537; Pauwels, Sequitur alia narratio de ducibus Burgundiae, p. 279; Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, ADN, B 2064, ed. by Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 357–58.  16 Dijon, ADCO, B 1538, ed. by Prochno, Die Kartause, p. 266; Schnerb, Les funérailles des ducs de Bourgogne, pp. 27–28.  17 Bulland, Lettre escritte aux mayeur et echevins de la ville de Lille, pp. 116–17; Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, ADN, B 2064, ed. by Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 356–58; Chastellain, Œuvres, vol. 5, Chronique, 1464, 1466–1468, 1470 (1864), pp. 228, 233–34; Du Clercq, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, pp. 302–03; Wavrin, Recueil des croniques, pp. 536–37; La Marche, Mémoires, vol. 3, p. 57.

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

Figure 3.2. Mary of Burgundy on her deathbed, Dits die eccelente cronike van Vlaenderen (Antwerp: Willem Vorsterman, 1531).

on a pillow with a black velvet pall thrown over his body. He received homage from the Duke of Lorraine, who sprinkled the holy water, and the household of the latter came in mourning, followed by a visit from all those who wished to honour his remains18 [Plate IV]. Wearing a black dress embellished with a large gold cross and ringed by four large candles, Mary was also displayed before her subjects, who were shown to be as sad as her spouse, archduke Maximilian (Figure 3.2).19 Following Flemish custom, after the death of their son, Philip the Fair, his servants watched over his corpse, which was dressed in rich garments (a black  18 Chronique de Lorraine, ed. by Laurent Marchal (Nancy: n. e., 1859), pp. 307–08; Jean de Roye, Journal connu sous le nom de Chronique scandaleuse, 1460–1483, ed. by Bernard de Mandrot, 2 vols (Paris: Librairie Renouard-H. Laurens, 1894–1896), vol. 2, p. 42; Philippe de Vigneulles, Chronique, ed. by Charles Bruneau, 4 vols (Metz: Société d’histoire et d’archéologie de la Lorraine, 1927–1933), vol. 3 (1932), p. 57; Frédérix, La mort de Charles le Téméraire, pp. 218–19.  19 Molinet, Chroniques, vol. 1, p. 369; Jeannet de La Ruyelle, Relation des États Généraux tenus à Gand, avril-mai 1482, ed. by Louis-Prosper Gachard, Analectes historiques, VIIIe, IXe, Xe sér. (Brussels: M. Hayez, 1863), pp. 1–31 (p. 5); Chronique des faits et gestes admirables de Maximilien I durant son mariage avec Marie de Bourgogne, translatée du flamand en français pour la première fois, et augmentée d’éclaircissements historiques et de documents inédits, trans. and augmented by Octave Delepierre (Brussels: Société typographique belge, 1839), pp. 434–35, 437; Dumont, Marie de Bourgogne, p. 320.

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velvet tunic and scarlet coloured pants, shoes of velvet in the Flemish style, a black velvet hat with a rich jewel on his head, and, on top of everything, a royal cloak — all of the garments brought by the kings of arms), and surrounded by tapestries. As if it were still living, the body was positioned on a throne, offered to the veneration of his house and his spouse, as well as to the prayers of the clergy. After the embalming, the body was placed in a metal coffin which had been spread with aromatic plants and myrrh.20 After mourning in a confined space where the public and private spheres were closely mingled, the late dukes of Burgundy began their journey to their final resting place. This public journey, held before their subjects, was slightly different for each of the dukes, and the composition of the audience and the disposition of the procession could vary from one duke to another. Nonetheless, the general thread of the transfer, simultaneously a manifestation of mourning and a dramatization of power through death, remained relatively unchanged. The funerals executed for Philip the Good, the first to reach such a high degree of precision, and for Philip the Fair, illustrate the spectacle very well. On 21 June 1467, among more than 20,000 people including the urban audience and torchbearers, surrounded by omnipresent black colours, the light of the flames, and ducal and urban heraldic displays, the funeral procession gathered before the princely residence and, as the bell tolled, moved on, in silence, towards Saint-Donatian of Bruges. Many participants wore hats and black clothing of which the price, type, length, and quality of the material depended upon the individual’s place in society. The representatives of the Church and the Franc of Bruges, followed by Philip’s officers in a hierarchic order, opened the procession. After them, came the knights of the Golden Fleece, the Chancellor of Burgundy, the First Chamberlain of the duke, several bishops in pontifical robes accompanied by abbots from Flanders, with their crosses and mitres, and members of the mendicant orders as well as the faithful from all urban parishes, charged with establishing a foundation of prayers that would accompany the transfer of the deceased from his earthly abode to his heavenly one. In front of the ducal chariot went a group of officers at arms, among them two sergeants armed with silver maces, dressed in black robes and bearing coats of arms. Then, borne by various ducal archers, came the lead coffin covered with a pall of gold held by 16 barons and crowned by a golden canopy held by four lords. Then advanced Méliador or Mercadez, as the late duke’s first stable squire is called in the sources. He carried the ducal sword, which he held straight in his hand with the point, above, in  20 In addition to the references in note 14 (Vallejo, Memorial de la vida, pp. 111–12, citation), see: Lorenzo de Padilla, Cronica di Felipo I, in Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda (eds), Colección de docu­ mentos inéditos para la historia de España, vol. 8, pp. 5–269 (p. 150); Andrés Bernáldez, Historia de los reyes católicos D. Fernando y Doña Isabel, 2 vols (Seville: Imprenta que fue de José María Geofrin, 1870), vol. 2, pp. 285–86; Rogelio Pérez-Bustamante and José Manuel Calderon Ortega, Felipe I. 1506 (Palencia: Diputación Provincial de Palencia, 1995), p. 261; Nicomedes Sanz y Ruiz de La Peña, Doña Juana I de Castilla en su palacio de Tordesillas (Madrid: Ed. de Conferencias y Ensayos, n. d.), p. 134; Bethany Aram, ‘Juana “the Mad”, the Clares, and the Carthusians. Revising a Necrophilic Legend in Early Habsburg Spain’, Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 93 (2002), 172–91 (181).

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

the scabbard. After him followed the representatives of mourning — dress, coat with tails, large covered hood. At their head was Charles of Charolais, followed by the ducal bastards, members of the Burgundian Valois House and Charles’ officers, also dressed in black but arranged in no particular order.21 The second of the great Burgundian ducal funeral ceremonies was that of Philip the Fair in Mechelen on 18 and 19 July 1507. Initiated by Margaret, sister of the deceased and Duchess of Savoy,22 this funeral without a corpse was held in addition to the obsequies held shortly after the King of Castile’s death in his capital, Burgos, where the deceased sovereign was present, albeit without his heir, thus denying the dynastic dialogue which would be characteristic of the ceremonies in Mechelen.23 Here, on 18 July a large procession went from the princely residence to the collegiate church of St Rumbold, a path marked out by barriers and black panels and lined by 600 notables of the town, all dressed in black clothes, each one of them carrying an armoured torch. First came the ecclesiastics — that is bishops, abbots, and parish clergy — followed by a second group composed of representatives of the urban states and the city of Mechelen, and the officers of the households of Philip, Charles and Margaret. Flanking this second section, poor people were dressed in black with hoods covering their faces and carried candles bearing the arms of the deceased, opening the way for the officers at arms, 12 of whom carried the banners of 12 principalities of the late King of Castile’s ‘Burgundian’ inheritance. The person of the prince was then given tangible form by a third group, comprising people carrying the cornette, guidon and standard with the motto and colours of Philip, his steed covered in the same colours, his sword pointed up, his helmet and jousting shield and, finally, four shields, helmets, and bells in the colours of the four territories of the deceased prince. These were preceded by four kings of arms, each one of them dressed in a coat of arms representing one of the four quarters, and by the King of Arms Golden Fleece, bearing the coat of arms and a white rod representing the fact that he was leading the mourning. The young Charles opened the fourth section of the procession, wearing black clothes and the collar of the Golden Fleece around his neck. He rode a small horse and was surrounded by the archers of his bodyguard. He was immediately followed by the most important figures of the court, such as Emperor Maximilian’s ambassador, the son of the Marquis of Baden and the Bishop of Cambrai. Twelve knights

 21 Du Clercq, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, pp. 304–05; Jean de Wavrin, Recueil des croniques, pp. 537–38; Chastellain, Oeuvres, vol. 5, pp. 234–35; Dijon, ADCO, B 310, ed. by Prochno, Die Kartause, pp. 256–58; Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, ADN, B 2064, ed. by GaudeFerragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 360–63.  22 Anne Schoysman, ‘Les obsèques de Philippe le Beau’, Les fastes de la mort dans les Anciens Pays-Bas (XVIe–XVIIe siècle), Colloque, Institut interuniversitaire pour l’étude de l’humanisme et de la Renaissance, ULB/VUB (Brussels: 16–18 May 2002), unpublished work; I want to express my warmest gratitude to the author (University of Siena) for having given me her text.  23 Cauchies, Philippe le Beau, confirms (p. 211) that, as soon as Philip’s death was known, local cere­ monies and religious services were organized, notably at Ath (Hainaut), on 15 and 16 October, and in Béthune (Artois), on the 21st of the same month.

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and officers of the Golden Fleece, the chamberlains, and the magistrates closed the cortège. The clerks and the pieces of honour remained in the church for the duration of the vigils to which Margaret of Austria, dressed in a simple habit, veiled, and accompanied by a small number of her ladies-in-waiting, attended, while the rest of the audience reconvened at the princely residence in the same order as they had come. This procession was partly repeated on the following day. However, the clergy now remained at St Rumbold, and the rather courtly and ‘Burgundian’ cortège took another, more official, political, even royal character. Young Charles was now preceded by the Lord of Beveren, son of the Great Bastard Anthony, who carried the large banner crowned with the coats of arms of the deceased prince. He was followed by several other figures bearing the royal crown, the necklace of the Order of the Golden Fleece, the helmets of Castile and of Austria, the shield bearing his full arms, all crowned, the coat of arms, the sword of justice in a scabbard of gold cloth and its hilt pointing to the sky, revealing that justice is delivered by the hand of God. Then came the horse covered with a full coat of arms, its war saddle and stirrups, preceding the pennant likewise bearing the full arms. A group of officers at arms, gentlemen, knights, and barons followed. They carried a variety of banners — those of the four marches (Brabant, Flanders, Hainaut, Artois), the eight duchies (Austria, Burgundy, Brabant, etc.), the three kingdoms and the archduchy (Castile, Léon, Granada, and Austria), and the quarters of Philip the Fair’s illustrious bloodline (i.e. those of Emperor Frederick III, of Duke Charles of Burgundy, of Portugal, and of Bourbon) — or bore the same coat of arms.24 At the end of the march, the procession reached the church where the funeral service was to take place. In Philip the Good’s case, the procession reached Saint-Donatian. Both the nave and the choir of the church had been draped in black fabric and decorated with a multitude of candles and with the coats of arms of the deceased duke. The bier was deposited in the choir, more precisely in the chapelle ardente. The catafalque was also dressed in black velvet and adorned ‘with as many candles that one could place there’, while a pall of golden cloth doubled with black satin and embroidered with a white velvet cross was thrown over the casket. Eight large banners were arranged around the casket, and not far away, close to a lectern, the pennant and the large ducal banner were displayed. There were no less than 2,000 coats of arms among which a gigantic one was set at the entrance of the choir. A myriad of candles and torches surrounded the bier (Figure 3.3). The heat generated by the candles was such that the ducal servants had to break the church’s stained-glass panes in order to avoid suffocation. Among the audience, arranged in hierarchical order, Charles, surrounded by other lords

 24 Jean Lemaire de Belges, La pompe funeralle des obseques du feu Roy dom phelippes, in Jean Lemaire de Belges, Chronique de 1507 ed. by Anne Schoysman and Jean-Marie Cauchies (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 2001), pp. 107–23 (an eyewitness account is preserved in autograph form); Charles Ruelens (ed.), ‘Obsèques de Philippe le Beau’, Revue d’histoire et d’archéologie, 2 (1860), 416–433 (418–21, 423–25, 428–31).

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

Figure 3.3. Vigil beside the catafalque of the Bold, Je(h)An du P(e)rier, Le Songe du Pastourel, Lorraine (Nancy) (c. 1520), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliotek.

in mourning, appeared close to the oratory. The first stable squire was placed behind the altar, near the casket, bearing in his hands the ducal sword which still pointed up. After the vespers and the vigils for the dead that lasted several hours, the members of the assembly left the church in the same order as they had come. On the night before the burial, the heralds at arms guarded Philip’s remains by candlelight, the duke’s sword still at his side. On the next day, at dawn, the first two masses were celebrated before the arrival of Charles and the funeral procession, this time deprived of abundant illumination. The Bishop of Tournai celebrated a requiem mass and led prayers of intercession in favour of the deceased duke. The casket was then deposited in a grave facing the high altar. But, before it was sealed, Méliador, the bearer of the ducal sword, lowered it and placed the tip against the earth. The members of Philip’s household then each threw into the grave sticks and rods, symbolizing the vacancy of their charge henceforth (Figure 3.4). Philip’s first squire of the stable then laid the sword over the covered sepulchre and, after having kissed the cross, yielded his place to one named Roichequin, squire of the stable to Charles, who then raised the sword with its point to the sky, and presented it to the new duke ‘just as was customarily done in bringing it before the said duke, the father, when he was alive’. As the ceremony came to its end, the procession left the church; Charles’ officers, positioned hierarchically,

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Figure 3.4. The ducal burial of Charles the Bold, Je(h)An du P(e)rier, Le Songe du Pastourel, Lorraine (Nancy) (c. 1520), Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliotek.

now replaced those who had served Philip; the neat arrangement of the latter was broken up:25 one reign ended and another began. In the case of Philip the Fair, the Mechlinian church was mostly decorated with the colours of mourning, painted black or hung with cloth in the same colour; and more black candlesticks bearing candles emblazoned with the arms of the deceased prince. At the choir’s entrance stood the high altar with six steps. This altar was also covered with black drapery, but ornamented at the top by a golden cloth embellished in black velvet and a cross of crimson satin, and, at the bottom, by ten or twelve large images in gilded silver. Thirty-six other altars were likewise decorated with black cloth adorned with a white satin cross and heraldic coats of arms. At 40 feet from the high altar was a chapelle ardente with six tiers; the top three were rounded, like three golden crowns strung together above in a pyramidal formation, and at each floret a candlestick and candle. The ensemble was surmounted by a large golden apple and abundant illumination. The black and the gold of the fabrics played off the crimson; crosses and candles were countless. At the four corners of the first tier, four large candles stood  25 Du Clercq, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, pp. 305–07; Wavrin, Recueil des croniques, pp. 538–39; Dijon, ADCO, B 310, ed. by Prochno, Die Kartause, pp. 256–59; Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, ADN, B 2064, ed. by Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 360–63.

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

by ‘IIII well-feathered angels with open arms, each angel dressed in a tunic of taffeta embroidered with silver’. Enclosed by two candelabrums holding about ten torches, this chapelle ardente surmounted a representation of the casket or bier with the corpse of the late king, covered in a golden pall adorned with a cross in crimson velvet. On the second day of the liturgical celebrations, a golden crown, the necklace of the Order and the coat of arms rested upon the casket; the banners of the duchies, archduchy, kingdom, quarters, and four marches were hung respectively in the chapelle ardente, carried there by the heralds and placed in the corners of the chapel. The nave was flanked by a rack displaying the remaining attributes of honour. By their position in the church, the participants illustrated their importance in the Burgundian-Castilian society. During the third mass, on 19 July, after the singers of the late sovereign, ‘singing in pitiful lamentation’, had performed the Introit of the Requiem Mass, the herald Golden Fleece directed the offerings: the gentlemen of the court had brought pieces of honour; the archduke Charles, as king and simple mortal, made the offer of ‘gold and shining wax’ for the soul of his father; the Knights of the Golden Fleece and the most prominent figures close to the archduke brought a large candle and a golden coin. Then bishop Jean de Nivelles, confessor to Philip the Fair, gave a sermon on the theme ‘Mortuus est Rex et regnabit filius eius pro eo’ which drew tears from Margaret, who followed Mass ‘secretly in her oratory’. At the end of the Mass and the reading of the Gospel, Golden Fleece threw his staff, thrice saying ‘The King is dead’. He then picked it up and straightened the great banner with Philip’s full arms which had just been lowered, and repeated three times ‘Long live Don Charles, by the grace of God, Archduke of Austria and Prince of Spain’. Then, four kings at arms also lowered their banners and let out the stream of titles related to the entire Burgundian inheritance. Charles was stripped of his hood of mourning, a decision of Golden Fleece who then took the sword of justice by the point and put it in the hands of the child. Charles grabbed it by the handle, its tip pointing upwards, and moved towards the altar to kneel and pray before returning the attribute to his great squire of the stable. Having at that point fully succeeded his father, Charles was stripped of his clothes of mourning, returned to his palace preceded by the sword and, as proof of his accession to power, dubbed his first knight.26 Oddly, historical circumstances rather than a specific ritual transformed many of the Burgundian ducal funerals into a double ceremony. For Philip the Fair, who died in Burgos and was buried in Granada, the main funeral ceremonies were held in his patrimonial lands, that is in Mechelen. The same thing happened for the ceremonies dedicated to Philip the Good. Although rich in innovative symbolism, the funeral ceremony, as it was held in 1467, had not yet fully matured. It was the transfer of the body of Philip the Good  26 Lemaire de Belges, Chronique de 1507, pp. 104–07, 114–15, 122–29; Alexandre de La Fons-Mélicocq (ed.), ‘Pompe funèbre de Philippe le Beau, roi de Castille (mort le 25 septembre 1506), célébrée à Malines’, Revue d’histoire et d’archéologie, 2 (1860), 213–219 (215–19); Ruelens, ‘Obsèques de Philippe le Beau’, 417–18, 421–23, 425–31.

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to the Charterhouse of Champmol, on the initiative of his son Charles, that would crystallize the ritual. That episode, and the transfer of Charles the Bold in 1550 — at the suggestion of his great-grandson Emperor Charles V and with the consent of the regent of Lorraine — to the Church of Our Lady of Bruges,27 have already been studied. Hence, preference is here given to the exhumation of John the Fearless on 23 June 1420, a few months after his funeral at Montereau, and the transfer of his body to Dijon, where he was finally buried on 12 July. These episodes are known in detail through the account left by Laurent Pignon, confessor to the Dukes John and Philip — a report that was part of the mission with which he had been charged: namely, to determine the location of the tomb of the deceased prince at the request of his son Philip, and to supervise the exhumation and the transfer of the remains, and to ensure that, all along its route, it received the due funeral services. The physical details and injuries found upon the corpse left no doubt as to the identity of the exhumed person. The procession that accompanied the convoy between Montereau and Dijon was mainly due to the widow of John the Fearless, Margaret of Bavaria, called upon by Philip the Good who needed to keep his men at arms at hand for the military operations of the moment. Nevertheless, after the religious service at Montereau in the presence of the Duke as well as of Henry V of England and two of his brothers, the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, the late Duke John first arrived at Cravant, by night and by river, the Yonne being both the most convenient route and the least exposed to threat of the Armagnacs. Met by the suitable procession and benefiting from a military escort, the corpse then followed its journey to reach Dijon where the late duke was buried, having received at each stage of the journey, a significant funeral service organized solely for his benefit.28

 27 Charles de Linas (ed.), Translation des restes de Charles-le-Téméraire de Nancy à Luxembourg. Manuscrit d’Antoine de Beaulaincourt, roi d’armes de la Toison d’Or (Nancy: A. Lepage, 1855).  28 Bertrand Schnerb, ‘Les funérailles de Jean sans Peur’, Annales de Bourgogne, 54 (1982), 122–34.

chapter 3. the funerals of the dukes of burgundy in the fifteenth century

Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Ordonnancement et récit de funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Dijon, Archives départementales de la Côte d’Or (ADCO), B 310, ed. by Renate Prochno, Die Kartause von Champmol. Grablege der burgundischen Herzöge 1364–1477 (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2002), pp. 255–259 —— , ADCO, B 1538, ed. by Prochno, Die Kartause, pp. 266–269 Compte des funérailles de Philippe le Bon, Lille, Archives départementales du Nord (ADN), B 2064, ed. by Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), pp. 355–64 Primary Sources

Anglería, Pedró Mártir de, Epistolario, ed. by José López de Toro, 4 vols (Madrid: Gongora, 1955–1957), vol. 2, Libros XV-XXIV, Epístolas 232–472 (1955) Basin, Thomas, Histoire de Louis XI, ed. and trans. by Charles Samaran, Monique-Cécile Garand and Geneviève Grand, 3 vols (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1963–1972), vol. 3, 1477–1483 (1972) Bernáldez, Andrés, Historia de los reyes católicos D. Fernando y Doña Isabel, 2 vols (Seville: Imprenta que fue de José María Geofrin, 1870), vol. 2 Bulland, Poly, Lettre escritte aux mayeur et echevins de la ville de Lille, contenant la relation de la maladie et de la mort de Philippe duc de Bourgogne, Bruges, 16 juin 1467, ed. by Gustave Peignot, Choix de testamens anciens et modernes, remarquables par leur importance, leur singularité ou leur bizarrerie; avec des détails historiques et des notes, 2 vols (Paris-Dijon: Renouard-Victor Lagier, 1829), vol. 1, pp. 115–18 Chastellain, George, Œuvres, ed. by Joseph Kervyn de Lettenhove, 8 vols (Brussels: F. Heussner, 1863–1866), vol. 1, Chronique, 1419–1422 (1863), vol. 5, Chronique, 1464, 1466–1468, 1470 (1864) Chronique de Lorraine, ed. by Laurent Marchal (Nancy: n. e., 1859) Chronique des faits et gestes admirables de Maximilien I durant son mariage avec Marie de Bourgogne, translatée du flamand en français pour la première fois, et augmentée d’éclaircissements historiques et de documents inédits, trans. and augmented by Octave Delepierre (Brussels: Société typographique belge, 1839) Du Clercq, Jacques, Mémoires sur le règne de Philippe le Bon, duc de Bourgogne, ed. by Frédéric de Reiffenberg, 2nd edn, 4 vols (Brussels: Lacrosse, 1835–1836), vol. 4 La Fons-Mélicocq, Alexandre de (ed.), ‘Pompe funèbre de Philippe le Beau, roi de Castille (mort le 25 septembre 1506), célébrée à Malines’, Revue d’histoire et d’archéologie, 2 (1860), 213–19 La Marche, Olivier de, Mémoires, ed. by Henri Beaune and Jules d’Arbaumont, 4 vols (Paris: Renouard-Vve H. Loones successeur, 1883–1888), vol. 3 (1885) La Ruyelle, Jeannet de, Relation des Etats Généraux tenus à Gand, avril-mai 1482, ed. by LouisProsper Gachard, Analectes Historiques, VIIIe, IXe, Xe sér. (Brussels: M. Hayez, 1863)

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Lefèvre de Saint-Remy, Jean, Chronique, ed. by François Morand, 2 vols (Paris: Loones, 1876–1881), vol. 2 Lemaire de Belges, Jean, Chronique de 1507, ed. by Anne Schoysman and Jean-Marie Cauchies (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 2001) —— , La pompe funeralle des obseques du feu Roy dom phelippes, in Jean Lemaire de Belges, Chronique de 1507, ed. by Anne Schoysman and Jean-Marie Cauchies (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 2001), pp. 10–131 Linas, Charles de (ed.), Translation des restes de Charles-le-Téméraire de Nancy à Luxem­ bourg. Manuscrit d’Antoine de Beaulaincourt, roi d’armes de la Toison d’Or (Nancy: A. Lepage, 1855) López de Gómara, Francisco, Annals of the Emperor Charles V, ed. and trans. by Roger Bigelow Merriman (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1912) Lory, Ernest-Léon, ‘Les obsèques de Philippe-le-Bon, duc de Bourgogne, mort à Bruges en 1467’, Mémoires de la Commission des Antiquités du Département de la Côte d’Or, 7 (1865–1869), 215–46 Molinet, Jean, Chroniques, ed. by Georges Doutrepont and Omer Jodogne, 3 vols (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 1935–1937), vol. 1, 1474–1488 Monstrelet, Enguerrand de, Chronique, ed. by Louis-Claude Douët-d’Arcq, 6 vols (Paris: Vve Jules Renouard, 1857–1862), vol. 1, vol. 3 (1859) Oudergherst, Pierre, Chroniques et annales de Flandres (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1571) Padilla, Lorenzo de, Cronica di Felipo I, in Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda (eds), Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, 113 vols (Madrid: Imprenta de la Viuda de Calejo, 1842–1895), vol. 8 (1846), pp. 5–269 Parra, Gonzalo de la, Carta escrita desde Valladolid al Rey Católico, dándo noticia de la enfermedad y muerte de Felipe I, acaecida en Burgos el 25 de setiembre de 1506, in Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda (eds), Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, 113 vols (Madrid: Imprenta de la Viuda de Calejo, 1842–1895), vol. 8 (1846), pp. 394–97 Pauwels, Thierry, Sequitur alia narratio de ducibus Burgundiae, in Joseph Kervyn de Letten­ hove (ed.), Chroniques relatives à l’histoire de la Belgique sous la domination des ducs de Bourgogne (Textes latins), 3 vols (Brussels: F. Hayez, 1870–1876), vol. 3, pp. 264–328 Religieux de Saint-Denis, Chronique contenant le règne de Charles VI de 1380 à 1422, ed. by Louis-François Bellaguet, 6 vols (Paris: Crapelet, 1839–1852), re-ed., 6 t. in 3 vols (Paris: Ed. du CTHS, 1994), vol. 2, t. 3 Roye, Jean de, Journal connu sous le nom de Chronique scandaleuse, 1460–1483, ed.  by Bernard de Mandrot, 2 vols (Paris: Librairie Renouard-H. Laurens, 1894–1896), vol. 2 Ruelens, Charles (ed.), ‘Obsèques de Philippe le Beau’, Revue d’histoire et d’archéologie, 2 (1860), 416–33 Santa Cruz, Alonso de, Crónica del emperador Carlos V, ed. by Ricardo Beltrán y Róspide and Antonio Blázquez y Delgado-Aguilera, 5 vols (Madrid: Imprenta del Patronato de huérdanos de intendencia é intervención militares, 1920–1922), vol. 1 —— , Cronica de los reyes católicos, ed. by Juan de Mata Carriazo (Seville: Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos de Sevilla, 1951)

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Vallejo, Juan de, Memorial de la vida de Fray Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros, ed. by Antonio de la Torre y del Cerro (Madrid: Junta para ampliación de estudios é investigaciones cientificas, Centro de estudios históricos, 1913) Vigneulles, Philippe de, Chronique, ed. by Charles Bruneau, 4 vols (Metz: Société d’histoire et d’archéologie de la Lorraine, 1927–1933), vol. 3 (1932) Wavrin, Jean de, Recueil des croniques et anchiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne, a present nommé Engleterre, ed. by William Hardy and Edward L. C. P. Hardy, 5 vols (London: Longmans Green, 1864–1891), vol. 5, From A.D. 1447 to A.D. 1471 Secondary Sources

Aram, Bethany, ‘Juana “the Mad”, the Clares, and the Carthusians. Revising a Necro­ philic Legend in Early Habsburg Spain’, Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 93 (2002), 172–91 Baveye, Laurie, ‘La mort de Philippe le Bon, duc de Bourgogne (15 juin 1467) d’après une lettre de son apothicaire Poly Bulland et les comptes des funérailles de ce prince’, in Cour de France.fr. (2011), see [accessed 15 June 2020] Cauchies, Jean-Marie, Philippe le Beau, le dernier duc de Bourgogne (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003) Cazaux, Yves, Marie de Bourgogne, témoin d’une grande entreprise à l’origine des nationalités européennes (Paris: Albin Michel, 1967) Dumont, Georges-Henri, Marie de Bourgogne (Paris: Fayard, 1982) Dumont, Jonathan, Alain Marchandisse and Christophe Masson, ‘Les funérailles de Philippe le Beau, survivance ducale bourguignonne ou prémices royales espagnoles?’, forthcoming Frédérix, Pierre, La mort de Charles le Téméraire, 5 janvier 1477 (Paris: Gallimard, 1966) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) Hommel, Luc, Marie de Bourgogne ou le Grand Héritage (Brussels: Ad. Goemaere, 1951) Paravicini, Werner, ‘Theatre of Death. The Transfer of the Remnants of Philip the Good and Isabel of Portugal to Dijon, November 1473 – February 1474’, in Karl-Heinz Spieß and Immo Warntjes (eds), Death at Court (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2012), pp. 33–115 Pérez-Bustamante, Rogelio and José Manuel Calderon Ortega, Felipe I. 1506 (Palencia: Diputación Provincial de Palencia, 1995) Prochno, Renate, Die Kartause von Champmol. Grablege der burgundischen Herzöge 1364–1477 (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2002) Sanz y Ruiz de La Peña, Nicomedes, Doña Juana I de Castilla en su palacio de Tordesillas (Madrid: Ed. de Conferencias y Ensayos, n. d.) Schnerb, Bertrand, Les funérailles des ducs de Bourgogne Philippe le Hardi et Jean sans Peur, Mémoire de Maîtrise en Histoire, Université Paris-Sorbonne (1982) —— , ‘Les funérailles de Jean sans Peur’, Annales de Bourgogne, 54 (1982), 122–34 —— , Jean sans Peur. Le prince meurtrier (Paris: Payot, 2005)

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Schoysman, Anne, ‘Les obsèques de Philippe le Beau’, Les fastes de la mort dans les Anciens Pays-Bas (XVIe–XVIIe siècle), Colloque, Institut interuniversitaire pour l’étude de l’humanisme et de la Renaissance, ULB/VUB (Brussels: 16–18 May 2002), unpublished Steppe, Jan Karel, ‘Het overbrengen van het hart van Filips de Schone van Burgos naar de Nederlanden in 1506–1507’, Biekorf, 82 (1982), 209–18 Varela, Javier, La muerte del rey. El ceremonial funerario de la monarquía española (1500– 1885) (Madrid: Turner, n.d.) Vaughan, Richard, Charles the Bold. The last Valois duke of Burgundy, (London: Longman, 1973), re-ed. (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2002) Zalama, Miguel Ángel, ‘El rey ha muerto, el rey continúa presente. El interminable viaje de Felipe I de Burgos a Granada’, in Miguel Ángel Zalama and Paul Vandenbroeck (eds), Felipe I El Hermoso. La belleza y la locura (Madrid: Centro de Estudios Europa Hispánica, 2006), pp. 195–210.

Joel Burden

Chapter 4. English Royal Funerals in the Fifteenth Century Royal funerals played an increasingly prominent role in the ritualized passage of royal accession in Europe during the later Middle Ages. In England, the primary innovation during this era was the practice of displaying a lifelike effigy of the dead king dressed in full royal robes and regalia, creating an anthropomorphic focal point within the ritual celebrations. This tradition of displaying a funeral effigy probably originated in the peculiar circumstances of the funeral of Edward II (d. 1327).1 It had been customary since at least the twelfth century to display the embalmed corpse of a dead king wearing his coronation robes and regalia, and indeed burial in consecration robes was also sometimes practised. As kings were commonly buried several weeks or even months after their death, practical considerations over the showing of the corpse inevitably intervened. Edward II had been deposed prior to his probable murder, leaving his already crowned son and successor to organize the funeral after a three-month delay. It was not in Edward III’s interests to diminish the royal status of a safely dead father upon whom his own claims of royal legitimacy ultimately depended. Since the delay made it impossible to display Edward II’s corpse, his regality was instead emphasized retrospectively through the prominent display of a funeral effigy of the king dressed in his actual coronation robes and wearing a specially-made copper crown. This singular arrangement, intended to underline the legitimacy of a usurper king, came to be adopted as standard practice in the English tradition, being reprised for Edward III’s own funeral in 1377 and that of Queen Anne of Bohemia in 1394, and eventually was exported to France during the English occupation of Paris in the 1420s. Surviving examples of royal funeral effigies indicate that they were manufactured with considerable craft and care, and with facial elements modelled directly from death masks to ensure that the effigy conveyed an exact likeness of the dead king or queen (Figures 4.1 and 4.2).2  1 Joel Burden, ‘Re-writing a Rite of Passage: The Peculiar Funeral of Edward II’, in Nicola McDonald and Mark Ormrod (eds), Rites of Passage: Cultures of Transition in the Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2004), pp. 13–29.  2 The funeral effigies of Edward III and Anne of Bohemia are preserved at Westminster Abbey. For these and other surviving effigies, see Anthony Harvey and Richard Mortimer (eds), The Funeral Effigies of Westminster Abbey (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1994). Edward III’s effigy was manufactured ‘pro imagine Joel Burden, Doctor in History, is an independent scholar and an illustrated books publisher. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 89–106  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120753

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Despite some interplay of influences between the monarchies, royal funeral practice in England did not evolve into as rigid or prescriptive a ceremonial tradition as in France. This situation is partially explained by differences in the tone of English kingship. Following a fateful attempt by Richard II in the late Figure 4.1. Restored 1390s to appropriate greater sacerdotal funeral effigy head of powers to his practice of kingship, no Edward III, London, Westminster Abbey. subsequent medieval monarch made much progress towards a concept of ruling by divine right. Political theories on kingship were by no means absent from the English context, but the relative weakness of the English monarchy constrained their impact on the exercise of kingship and its visual expression through heightened ceremony.3 Moreover, the political context of fifteenth-century England was unconducive to the development of rigid ritual practices of a type that might solidify into fully ‘ceremonial’ expressions of majesty. This is not to suggest that royal funeral practice in England was incoherent or failed to evolve. The fifteenth century saw the full emergence of written protocols for royal funerals and it is possible to discern some clear patterns in their organization and performance over the period such as the increasing prominence given to heralds and heraldic accoutrements. However, it is also undeniable that the funerals of fifteenth-century English kings were both disparate in character and manifested many aspects which barely distinguished them from the funerals of other leading members of the nobility and episcopacy.4 ad similitudinem regis… ante diem sepulture’ at a cost of £22 4s 11d (National Archives E361/5/18) and seemingly was modelled from his death mask, as evidenced in a discernible twisting of the mouth consistent with his death from a stroke. The funeral expenses were paid for by Edward III’s household which remained in existence for a month after his death to oversee arrangements. See Chris Given-Wilson, ‘The Exequies of Edward III and the Royal Funeral Ceremony in Late Medieval England’, English Historical Review, 124 (2009), 257–82.  3 Chris Given-Wilson (ed.), Chronicles of the Revolution 1397–1400: The Reign of Richard II (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993) is perhaps the best introduction to source material for Richard II’s infamous period of tyranny. Sir John Fortescue’s The Governance of England: Otherwise called The Difference between an Absolute and a Limited Monarchy, ed. by Charles Plummer (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1885) was written during the reign of Edward IV and is the most important English work on political theory of the fifteenth century. Its advocacy of a limited monarchy in contrast to the perceived absolute monarchy of Louis XI of France is tempered by an understanding that the king needed to strengthen the authority of the Crown in the face of an over-mighty aristocracy in England.  4 Mark Duffy, Royal Tombs of Medieval England (Stroud: Tempus, 2003) provides a broad and detailed comparative survey of royal funerals and tombs.

c h a p ter 4 . en glish royal f un era ls in the fifteenth century

The deposition of Richard II in 1399 ushered in a century during which no English monarch enjoyed an undisputed claim to the throne, and the throne itself changed hands between rival dynasties, or rival members of the same dynasty, on no less than six separate occasions — in 1399, 1461, 1470, 1471, 1483 and 1485. The political turbulence Figure 4.2. of the fifteenth century greatly complicated Restored funeral the ritualized passage of accession tradition- effigy head of ally vested in the sequential ceremonies of Henry VII, London, royal funerals and coronations. Of the eight Westminster Abbey. English kings who occupied the throne in the period 1399 to 1509, just four were buried by their acknowledged successor. Three of the remaining four (Richard II, Henry VI and Richard III) were buried by a king who had recently ejected them from the throne, while the fourth (Edward V) disappeared in murky circumstances that leave no trace of his death or funeral. Richard II (d. 1400) and Henry VI (d. 1471) were both buried after their successor had been crowned, thereby inverting the normal passage of accession, only to be disinterred and reburied for a second time by later kings with revisionist political agendas. Protocol and Practice In strict liturgical terms the funeral of a king was no different from the funeral of any other elite member of society, and there was no requirement to draw up a special liturgical handbook as was the case with coronation.5 Instead, royal status was expressed outside the strictures of liturgy in terms of the wider trappings of funerals — in terms of scale, expense and degree of elaboration; in certain ritualized acts such as the offering of the king’s horse, arms and standard at the funeral hearse; and in the multifarious representation of royal symbols ranging from the facsimile crown and royal regalia worn by the funeral effigy to displays of the royal arms and the attributed arms of royal saints. The physical location of the grave was also an indicator of royal status, both in terms of the choice of mausoleum and the proximity of the grave to the high altar or the shrine of a favoured saint.

 5 Joel Burden, Rituals of Royalty: Prescription, Politics and Practice in English Coronation and Royal Funeral Rituals c. 1327 to c. 1485 (PhD thesis, University of York, 1999, online at [accessed 15 June 2020]), pp. 32–71, offers a detailed comparative analysis of prescriptive textual traditions for English coronation and royal funeral rituals.

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Figure 4.3. Antiquarian drawing of the opened tomb of Edward I in 1774, London, Society of Antiquaries of London.

Although certain practices within the royal funeral such as the dressing of the corpse or the funeral effigy in royal robes and regalia were relatively long-established, the earliest surviving written protocol for a royal funeral is dateable only to the period 1362–1383. This short text, De Exequiis regalibus, survives in three illuminated copies, each compiled with a copy of the fourth recension of the English coronation ordo. All three copies are associated with Westminster Abbey, which increasingly sought to claim privileged rights over royal burials equivalent to those of the Basilica of Saint-Denis in France.6 The Abbey’s proprietary ambitions were ultimately defeated in the fifteenth century, not only by the limited availability of burial space within the shrine chapel of St Edward the Confessor, but also by the increased emphasis placed on dynastic identity within English kingship, which tended to encourage the emergence of rival centres of royal memorialization, first at Canterbury Cathedral in the early Lancastrian period, and later at St George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle. De Exequiis regalibus is concerned purely with outlining preparatory arrangements for a royal funeral, particularly with respect to the washing and visual presentation of the king’s corpse, and it concludes with the instruction that once suitably attired, the corpse shall be reverently delivered by bishops

 6 Two of the three surviving copies are preserved in the Westminster Abbey Muniments — Westminster Abbey MS 37 (The Westminster Missal) and Westminster Abbey MS 38 (Liber Regalis). The Westminster Missal is known to have been owned by Abbot Nicholas Litlyngton (d. 1386) of Westminster Abbey. It is published in Missale Ad Usum Ecclesesie Westmonasteriensis, ed. by John Wickham Legg, 3 vols (London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1893), vol. 2, pp. 734–35. The third copy, Archivo General de Navarra MS 197 (Pamplona Coronation Order), has been in Pamplona since at least the fifteenth century, but textual analysis reveals that it was copied directly from The Westminster Missal or from another source common to both manuscripts.

c h a p ter 4 . en glish royal f un era ls in the fifteenth century

Figure 4.4. Illumination of the funeral of the king, London, Westminster Abbey MS 37 (Westminster Missal), fol. 224.

and nobles to the king’s chosen place of burial. There is no explicit reference to the use of a funeral effigy, as the text assumes the actual corpse will be displayed in death. The royal pallium is to be placed over the king’s tunic, a crown placed on his head, and a gilded ring on the middle finger of his right hand. In his right hand should be placed an orb-like sceptre (pila) comprising a gilded ball surmounted by a long rod and cross, while in his left hand should be placed a gilded rod (septrum).7 These injunctions broadly match archaeological records relating to the opening of the tomb of Edward I (d. 1307) in 1774 (Figure 4.3).8 Although the accompanying illuminations show variations from the text of De Exequiis regalibus in their detailing and positioning of the sceptre and rod about the royal corpse (Figures 4.4 to 4.5), what really mattered was the actual presence or absence of regalia, as much as its precise appearance, combination or disposition. When Edward IV organized the reburial of his father, Richard, duke of York (d. 1460), at Fotheringhay in 1476, the funerary arrangements were replete with political iconography. The duke’s funeral effigy, itself a privilege of royalty, wore a ducal mantle and cap of maintenance, but had the figure of an angel holding a gold crown over but not upon the effigy’s head, thereby signifying York’s justified but unsuccessful bid to claim the throne.9  7 Missale, pp. 734–35.  8 Joseph Ayloffe, ‘An Account of the Body of King Edward the First, as it Appeared on Opening his Tomb in the Year 1774’, Archaeologia, 3 (1775), 380–84.  9 British Library MS Egerton 2642, fols 191–91v ‘…and above the chest an image like to the prince lying upright in a surcott, and a mantle of blewe velvet furred with ermyns. And between the image and the chest

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Figure 4.5. Illumination of the funeral of the king, London, Westminster Abbey MS 38 (Liber Regalis), fol. 33v.

c h a p ter 4 . en glish royal f un era ls in the fifteenth century

There is no particular reason to think the writing-down of procedure in the late fourteenth century attempted to do anything other than record established custom, or what was thought to be established custom. Administrative records relating to the funeral of Henry III (d. 1272) demonstrate that regalia was used in royal funerals from an early date. Nonetheless, De Exequiis regalibus came to be regarded as a canonical text and it remained integral to all known prescriptive royal funeral texts of the fifteenth century. The most fully developed of these is found in the Liber Regie Capelle, a custumal of the Royal Chapel compiled in 1448–1449.10 Here, the core De Exequiis regalibus text is greatly expanded to include instructions concerning the preparation of the royal hearse and the sepulchral church, the spatial arrangement of the principal mourners and officiating clergy at the office of the dead, the ordering of the funeral masses, the scale of the oblations of gold cloths on the day of burial, and the arrangements for offering the king’s chivalric ‘achievements’ at his tomb. The text additionally provides the earliest prescriptive record for the use of a funeral effigy, together with instructions for the suitable procession of the royal corpse from the place of death to the chosen place of burial. The proximity of the text’s composition to the royal household lends it considerable authority since it was to the royal household that responsibility for making practical arrangements typically fell. Detailed surviving accounts compiled by heralds relating to the funerals of Henry V (d. 1422) and Edward IV (d. 1483) confirm the accuracy of much of the detail contained in the Liber Regie Capelle funeral text.11 Contemporary records for the funeral of Henry V are particularly detailed and as it was organized in the context of an unusually secure royal succession it proceeded with a greater degree of ‘normality’ than was generally the case during the fifteenth century.12 The king died at Vincennes outside Paris on 31 August 1422. His corpse was embalmed and enclosed in a lead coffin before being processed in great state to Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris for a solemn mass, and then onwards to Rouen.13 Here a long delay occurred during which time detailed arrangements were made for the final journey of the cortège to England.

 10  11

 12  13

a blewe clothe of gold, and on his hed a cappe of meyntenance with an awngell standing in white holding a crowne over his hed in token that hee was kinge of right’. See also British Library MS Harley 48, fol. 78 and British Library MS Harley 4632, fol. 123. All these texts and other surviving records are collated and translated in Anne Sutton, Livia Visser-Fuchs and Peter Hammond (eds), The Reburial of Richard Duke of York, 21–30 July 1476 (London: Richard III Society, 1996). Liber Regie Capelle: A Manuscript in the Biblioteca Publica, Evora, ed. by Walter Ullmann (London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1959), pp. 111–15. On Henry V, see College of Arms MS M 14, fol. 29, published in William Henry St John Hope, ‘The Funeral, Monument and Chantry Chapel of King Henry the Fifth’, Archaeologia, 65 (1913–1914), 129–86. See also College of Arms MS R 36, fol. 87. On Edward IV, the fullest heraldic account is College of Arms MS I 7, fol. 7, published in Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Reigns of Richard III and Henry VII, ed. by James Gairdner, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1861), vol. 1, pp. 3–10. College of Arms Arundel MS 51 has a less detailed contemporary account written in French. Hope, ‘The Funeral, Monument and Chantry Chapel of King Henry the Fifth’, 129–86, collates and translates the key primary sources. Chronicles of Enguerrand de Monstrelet, ed. and trans. by Thomas Johnes, 13 vols (London: H. Bohn, 1853), vol. 1, pp. 483–84.

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The funeral carriage was laid with bales of hay covered over in black cloth and on these the coffin was placed under a cloth of majesty showing an image of Christ seated in Judgement. The effigy was placed above the coffin dressed in a purple mantle trimmed with ermine, with a crown on its head and a sceptre and orb in its hands. Two large mortiers candles burned at the head and foot of the carriage while three large banners of the saints surrounded it — those of the Trinity and the Virgin at the head, and of St George at the foot.14 The carriage was pulled by four to six horses (the records differ on this point), each led by a groom of the stable and ridden by a page dressed in a hooded black robe. Each horse had a distinct heraldic trapper bearing respectively the arms of St George, the royal saints St Edward the Confessor and St Edmund the Martyr, the quartered arms of England and France as borne by Henry himself, and separately the arms of England and of France.15 Henry V’s cortège was headed by the chief officers and gentlemen of the household, followed by various ranks of the clergy, including the Royal Chapel. Next came various lords and knights followed by an earl riding fully armoured but bareheaded on a horse caparisoned in the king’s arms and carrying a battle-axe pointing downwards. He was followed by a mounted knight carrying the royal standard and four further knights mounted on horses, all trapped in black velvet, and bearing the shields and crested helms of England and of France. Next came the heralds of arms wearing the king’s coat of arms and a further mounted knight carrying the king’s personal banner. The funeral carriage was immediately preceded by a contingent of the worthy poor and was surrounded by yeomen dressed in hooded black robes and carrying lighted torches.16 The most important mourners generally followed after the coffin, headed by the chief mourner. In France, the widowed Queen Katherine of Valois took her place in the cortège, but later at the actual burial service in Westminster Abbey it was the captive King James I of Scotland who served as chief mourner. The absence of Henry’s infant heir may have been explained by convention as much as by his age, since it is notable that the chief mourners at the later funerals of Edward IV and Henry VII were senior nobles, while royal widows and heirs stayed away.17  14 College of Arms MS M 14, fol. 29. See also Thomas Walsingham, Historia Anglicana, ed. by Henry Thomas Riley, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1863–1864), vol. 2, pp. 345–46.  15 Monstrelet states that there were four horses, but the College of Arms account suggests five. Edward Hall’s The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Families of Lancastre and Yorke (London: Richard Grafton, 1548) suggests six horses. Hall’s account, though late in date, relied on earlier source records which are now lost.  16 College of Arms MS M 14, fol. 29 gives the most detailed description of the processional order, reflecting the professional interest of the herald who wrote the account.  17 The principal mourners for Henry V were King James I of Scotland, who was held captive in England; Thomas Beaufort, duke of Exeter, the king’s uncle; and the earls of March, Stafford, and Warwick, who had all been close companions in arms of the dead king. See College of Arms MS I 7, fol. 7 for Edward IV’s funeral, where the principal mourners were all close associates of the king: John de la Pole, earl of Lincoln, his nephew; Thomas Grey, marquess of Dorset, his step-son; and William Herbert, earl of Huntingdon, who was married to the queen’s sister. Most other leading nobles were absent, including the king’s brother, Richard, duke of Gloucester, the future Richard III. On Henry VII’s funeral see British Library MS Harley 3504, fol. 264b, collated with other sources

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Figure 4.6. Drawing of the funeral hearse of Abbot Islip of Westminster (d. 1532), London, Westminster Abbey, Obituary Roll of Abbot Islip.

The journey to the sepulchral church was punctuated with overnight stops at the principal churches en route, in each of which a processional hearse was constructed to receive the coffin. An impression of these remarkable structures can be gleaned from a drawing of the early sixteenth-century funeral hearse of Abbot John Islip (d. 1532) of Westminster Abbey (Figure 4.6). They were built in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, of the reign of Henry VIII, Volume 1: 1509–1514, ed. by John Sherren Brewer (London: HM Stationery Office, 1920). pp. 20–21. The leading mourners comprised the senior titled nobility led by Edward Stafford, duke of Buckingham, and accompanied by the earls of Arundel, Northumberland, Shrewsbury, Surrey, and Essex.

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from wood, hung with black cloth, and were bedecked with a dazzling array of candles, ranging from giant cierges placed at the corners of the hearse to the myriad torches or lights which crammed the pinnacled superstructure. The London wax chandler, Simon Prencot, was paid £310 1s 6d to provide seven hearses between Dover and Westminster Abbey for the funeral of Henry V, the final hearse being entirely railed around and much the most splendid.18 Inevitably, enormous quantities of candle wax were required for such occasions. The surviving expense accounts for the funeral of Henry VII in 1509 reveal that the whole occasion cost more than £8000, with much of this staggering cost relating to the purchase of vast quantities of wax (including 3606 lbs of candle wax for the hearse at Westminster Abbey alone).19 The arrival of Henry V’s cortège in London was a major civic occasion for which the streets were cleaned and elaborate arrangements made. It was met at Blackheath by the mayor, aldermen, and other senior officers of the city, all dressed in black and accompanied by 300 torch-bearing citizens dressed in white. Entering the city across London Bridge, the coffin rested overnight in St Paul’s Cathedral, before being processed through crowded and torch-lined streets on its final journey to Westminster Abbey. Each city ward that was passed through took responsibility for its section of the route, whilst the clergy stood at the doors of their churches in full vestments chanting the Venite and censing the funeral carriage as it passed.20 As the principal church of London, St Paul’s was used as a staging point in the funeral celebrations of most English kings from Edward III onwards. Even deposed kings such as Richard II and Henry VI were allowed funerary celebrations at St Paul’s, though scrupulously denied them in the more regalian surroundings of Westminster Abbey. The culminating phases of a royal funeral were performed at the sepulchral church and were invariably spread over two days. The royal coffin was installed within its specially constructed hearse before the high altar and enclosed within a wooden barrier hung with black cloth. Considerable attention was given to the spatial arrangement of the mourners at the obsequies performed on the eve of the king’s interment. A detailed eyewitness account of the funeral of Edward IV makes it clear that the principal distinction of rank was drawn between those mourners standing ‘within’ the hearse (i.e. inside the wooden barriers) and the other mourners standing outside of it, both groups being dressed in black hooded robes made from velvet.21 The clergy sat in the choir stalls of the church, the bishops above, and the clerics of the Royal Chapel below, while the officiating archbishop sat in the choir or to the right side of the high altar. Black hats and  18 Issues of the Exchequer … from King Henry III to King Henry VI inclusive, ed. by Frederick Devon (London: John Murray, 1837), p. 376. Prencot had previously supplied the hearses for the Canterbury funerals of Henry IV in 1413 and Thomas, duke of Clarence in 1421.  19 Letters and Papers Henry VIII, pp. 10–20. A further 1557 lbs of wax was purchased for the hearse in St Paul’s Cathedral, while £1000 was paid to 56 London merchants for the purchase of black cloth.  20 Calendar of Letter Books of the City of London: K: Henry VI, ed. by Reginald R. Sharpe (London: Corporation of London, 1911), pp. 2–3.  21 Letters and Papers Richard III and Henry VII, pp. 5–8.

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mitres were removed during readings made by the archbishop, who censed the coffin during the singing of the psalm Benedictus. Following the conclusion of the service the clergy and mourners were allowed to retire for dinner, although a vigil was maintained over the corpse by selected mourners throughout the night.22 On the following day at least three masses were celebrated, the first to the Virgin, the second to the Trinity and the third a requiem mass during which the interment took place. Oblations of cloths of gold were made at each mass by the principal mourners, with the number of cloths being determined by considerations of rank. The Liber Regie Capelle text instructs that during the final requiem mass a knight mounted on the dead king’s horse and dressed in his armour should approach the altar step and humbly offer up the king’s horse and military achievements as an oblation. At the end of the mass and following the interment of the king a second knight mounted on a similar caparisoned horse should then enter the church carrying a shield bearing the heraldic arms of the king in an inverted position ‘as if to say he is dead’. Once placed at the foot of the grave an attendant lord of royal blood was to seize up the shield in an upright position ‘as if to say the king lives’.23 This ritualized surrendering and taking up of the royal arms was intended to convey the notion that the accession of the new king was already accomplished even though he was (usually) still uncrowned. Alms were then distributed and food solemnly partaken of by the mourners. The eyewitness account of Edward IV’s funeral differs in certain details from the prescriptions contained in the Liber Regie Capelle text, placing particular emphasis, for example, on the offering of the mass penny by the principal mourner at each mass. The process by which the king’s military achievements were offered is described in some detail with the principal heralds given the role of fetching each item (coat of arms, shield, sword and helm) and presenting them to designated lords to make as offerings at the altar. The presiding archbishop, who received each oblation, immediately returned it to the heralds. Gold cloths were then offered to the coffin by all the principal mourners in accordance with their rank, the chief mourner offering four cloths and the other mourners fewer.24 Items offered in oblation were generally retained by the sepulchral church. A note in the Sacrist’s Roll at Westminster Abbey relating to the funeral of Henry V reveals that the Abbey received 222 gold cloths over two days of celebrations, 40 of which were later redeemed for cash or an exchange item, while the remainder were delivered into the Abbey’s vestry with various other offerings and items including the funeral effigy and all of its regalia.25

 22  23  24  25

Liber Regie Capelle, pp. 112–13. Liber Regie Capelle, pp. 113–14, ‘… quasi diceret Consummatum est … quasi diceret Vivit rex’. Letters and Papers Richard III and Henry VII, pp. 4–10. Westminster Abbey Muniments 19664, reprinted in Hope, ‘The Funeral, Monument and Chantry Chapel of King Henry the Fifth’, pp. 137–43, 186.

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Politics and Performance The prescriptive injunctions of the Liber Regie Capelle funeral text and the detailed heralds’ records of the funerals of Henry V and Edward IV provide only a partial picture of English royal funeral practice in the fifteenth century. The other side of the story is what happened in the all too frequent circumstance of funerals occurring in the contexts of royal depositions and dynastic power-politics. When Richard II drew up his last will, in April 1399, it set out in considerable detail his funerary plans and set aside an enormous sum of £4000 to cover the related costs. Four funerary hearses were envisaged, two at principal churches on the route to be taken by the cortège, one in St Paul’s Cathedral and the last in Westminster Abbey, where Richard wished to be buried beside his queen, Anne of Bohemia (d. 1394), in their already completed double-tomb in the royal shrine chapel of St Edward the Confessor.26 Richard was soon afterwards deposed and died mysteriously in captivity at Pontefract Castle in February 1400. His funeral was a public celebration, but it was modest in scale and fell short of the standards normally expected of a king or specified by Richard himself.27 Henry IV paid for 1000 masses to be sung on the processional route from Yorkshire to London, where the cortège was met on its entry into the city by 30 citizens dressed in white who were accompanied by 100 torchbearers.28 There was no use of a funeral effigy dressed in royal robes and regalia, and instead it was Richard’s actual embalmed corpse that was publicly shown, with the king’s face visible in proof of his demise [Plate V]. Two days of obsequies were celebrated at St Paul’s Cathedral in the presence of Henry IV and prominent members of the nobility and citizenry of London, but thereafter Richard was pointedly buried in the Dominican Priory at King’s Langley rather than in his extravagantly furnished tomb in Westminster Abbey. King’s Langley was a royal foundation of secondary status which housed the bodies of Richard’s elder brother Edward, who had died in childhood, and his aunt Isabella of Castile, duchess of York (d. 1394). The monastic chronicler, Thomas Walsingham, whose abbot presided at the burial service, recorded that Richard’s corpse was brought to King’s Langley at the dead of night, and on the following day ‘without ceremony and almost unattended, was this royal corpse committed to the grave’.29 Richard II was eventually reburied in his Westminster Abbey tomb by order of Henry V in 1413. The reburial was an occasion of some splendour, although  26 A Collection of all the Wills, now known to be extant, of the Kings and Queens of England, ed. by John Nichols (London: Society of Antiquaries, 1780), pp. 191–202.  27 Joel Burden, ‘How Do You Bury a Deposed King? The Funeral of Richard II and the Establishment of Lancastrian Royal Authority in 1400’, in Gwilym Dodd and Douglas Biggs (eds), Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime, 1399–1406 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2003), pp. 35–53.  28 Issues of the Exchequer, p. 276; Chronicque de la traïson et mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre, ed. by Benjamin Williams (London: English Historical Society, 1846), p. 261.  29 ‘Annales Ricardi Secundi et Henrici Quarti’, in Johannis de Trokelowe et Anon Chronica et Annales, ed. by Henry Thomas Riley (London: Rolls Series, 1866), p. 331.

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the cash-strapped king had to resort to borrowing banners from his father’s funeral hearse at Canterbury Cathedral.30 Normal protocol dictated that royal funerals were financed from the dead king’s estate, but Henry IV’s executors found his estate to be insufficient to meet the king’s debts and so were unable to finance it. In such circumstances the financial burden of paying for the consecutive funerals of Henry IV and Richard II fell directly on the new king’s household.31 An unusual stipulation that the surplus wax from 120 torches kept burning around Richard’s hearse at Westminster was to be secured for the royal household was indicative of the straitened times.32 Although Henry V’s decision to rebury Richard II has sometimes been ascribed to a childhood fondness for the king, more prosaic motivations can be found in the relatively unstable political conditions which coloured the first two years of his reign, combined with a palpable desire on the young king’s part to make a concerted break with the preoccupations and policies of his own father, Henry IV. Returning Richard II to his empty Westminster Abbey tomb symbolized the resumption of political normality and by implication suggested that the new Lancastrian dynasty was merely a continuation of what had gone before.33 This point was further underlined by Henry V’s own decision to be buried in Westminster Abbey in accordance with fourteenth-century royal tradition, breaking the precedent set by Henry IV and other senior Lancastrians in choosing burial in Canterbury Cathedral.34 History repeated itself in 1471 when the deposed king Henry VI was buried with unseemly haste at Chertsey Abbey, a Benedictine monastery singularly lacking any prior royal connections, just two days after his murder in the Tower of London. The funeral and burial expenses amounted to just £33 6s 2½d compared to the estimated £1496 17s 2d spent 12 years later on the funeral of his supplanter, Edward IV.35 The choice of Chertsey Abbey as a burial church was probably explained by its convenient accessibility by river barge from London, where Henry’s corpse had briefly been displayed in St Paul’s Cathedral and the Blackfriars’ Church ‘open visaged that he might be known’.36 The exchequer  30 Issues of the Exchequer, pp. 325–27; The Brut, or the Chronicles of England, ed. by Friedrich W. D. Brie, 2 vols (London: Early English Text Society, 1908), vol. 2, p. 373; British Library Cotton MS Claudius A VIII, fol. 7.  31 Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1413–1416 (London: HM Stationery Office, 1910), p. 54.  32 Issues of the Exchequer, p. 328.  33 Burden, Rituals of Royalty, pp. 158–63; Paul Strohm, England’s Empty Throne: Usurpation and the Language of Legitimation, 1399–1422 (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 1998), pp. 101–27.  34 Christopher Wilson, ‘The Tomb of Henry IV and the Holy Oil of St Thomas of Canterbury’, in Paul Crossley and Eric Fernie (eds), Medieval Architecture and Its Intellectual Context: Studies in Honour of Peter Kidson (London: Hambledon Continuum, 1990), pp. 181–90; Duffy, Royal Tombs, pp. 199–206, 223–29. The other senior Lancastrians buried at Canterbury were Henry IV’s queen, Joan of Navarre (d. 1437); his half-brother, John Beaufort, earl of Somerset (d. 1410); and his second son, Thomas, duke of Clarence (d. 1421).  35 Issues of the Exchequer, pp. 495–96; Registrum Thome Bourgchier, 1454–1486, ed. by Robin Du Boulay, 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1957), vol. 2, pp. 54–55.  36 John Warkworth, A Chronicle of the First Thirteen years of King Edward the Fourth, ed. by James Orchard Halliwell (London: Camden Society, 1839), p. 21.

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records describe Henry as ‘late de facto et non de jure king of England’,37 and the symbolic indignity of his blunt ritualized exit from the political stage stood in marked contrast to the quasi-royal treatment bestowed on the disinterred remains of Richard, duke of York (considered by Yorkists as ‘de jure et non de facto’ king), when these were translated amidst much stately pomp at Fotheringhay, just five years later.38 In 1484 Henry VI’s remains were themselves translated by Richard III (his alleged murderer according to Tudor historians) to St George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle, the new Yorkist mausoleum re-founded by Edward IV. Richard’s decision to rebury Henry VI was perhaps motivated less by a sense of contrition so much as by the desire to suppress a nascent miracle cult growing up around the king’s grave at Chertsey. Although Henry was reburied in a prominent position in the second bay to the right of the altar (possibly suggesting that the first bay was reserved for Richard himself ), a sepulchral tomb was not commissioned, and the miserly sum of £5 10s 2d spent on translating the body from Chertsey suggests the occasion was not a splendid one.39 The restless remains of Henry VI very nearly bore witness to a third funeral as Henry VII and Westminster Abbey made ultimately unsuccessful efforts during the 1490s and 1500s to secure his canonization, as well as permission to translate his remains to a magnificent shrine chapel being specially constructed at Westminster Abbey.40 Henry VII’s intrinsically weak dynastic claim to the throne rested very largely on his much vaunted half-nephew relationship with Henry VI, and there is some irony in the fact that this king by right of conquest was himself laid to rest in a chapel ostensibly built out of devotion to the memory of his predecessor, but which has ever afterwards been known as the Henry VII Chapel. It was a different story for Richard III, whose death in battle at Bosworth Field in 1485 was followed by the unceremonious interment of his corpse without a coffin before the high altar at the Grey Friars’ Church in Leicester. Polydore Vergil’s description of proceedings is broadly consistent with other surviving accounts: The body of King Richard, naked of all clothing, and laid upon a horse’s back, with the arms and legs hanging down on both sides, was brought to the abbey of Franciscan monks at Leicester, a miserable spectacle in good truth, but not unworthy for the man’s life, and there was buried two days after without any pomp or solemn funeral.41

 37 Issues of the Exchequer, p. 495.  38 See note 9 above on sources.  39 William Henry St John Hope, Windsor Castle: An Architectural History, 3 vols (London: Country Life, 1913), vol. 2, p. 383 n.; Duffy, Royal Tombs, pp. 243, 265.  40 Duffy, Royal Tombs, pp. 243–47, 277–89, provides a comprehensive summary of the complex corres­ pondence and claims involving Henry VII, the Papacy, and the rival communities at Windsor and Westminster.  41 Three Books of Polydore Vergil’s English History, comprising the reigns of Henry VI, Edward IV and Richard III, ed. by Sir Henry Ellis (London: Camden Society, 1844), p. 226.

c h a p ter 4 . en glish royal f un era ls in the fifteenth century

Conclusions The complicated circumstances of the funerals of Richard II, Henry VI and Richard III, not to mention the complete absence of a funeral for Edward V, explain why it is misleading to develop any notion of a quintessential English royal funeral of the fifteenth century. It is certainly true that a prescriptive written tradition had emerged and was strengthening by this period, shaped in part by older royal conventions over the displaying of kings in death, but also influenced by prevailing fashions and customs in elite society more broadly as seen in the increasing intrusion of heraldic motifs into ritual performance and display. The funerals of Henry V, Edward IV and Henry VII offer a resonant glimpse of how royal death was expected to be celebrated when politics was not allowed to get entirely in the way. Too often this was not the case though. Most royal funerals of the fifteenth century were highly politically charged occasions, to be understood as much in terms of their short-term political use for a successor king as for their symbolic messaging on wider themes of monarchical government. The bitter dynastic politics of the later fifteenth century served to erode the sacral aura of kingship during this period with the profound consequence that incoming kings increasingly paid less and less respect to the memory of their immediate predecessor when burying him. Indeed, considerable political capital could be made from challenging the legitimacy of a predecessor’s royal authority, a process which led inexorably to the treatment of dead deposed kings as though they were undeserving of royal status as much as they were unentitled to the exercise of kingship. The contrast between the funerals of two kings named Richard, both of them deposed from the throne, is indicative of this general decline through the fifteenth century. While neither the first funeral of Richard II in 1400 nor the funeral of Richard III in 1485 were normal in character as measured against prescriptive funeral texts or the recorded events of Henry V’s funeral in 1422, it is nevertheless notable that Richard II, whose sovereign legitimacy was not disputed, was far better treated in death than Richard III, whose opponents regarded him as an regicidal interloper with little or no legitimate claim to the throne. England’s most notorious monarch had to wait 527 years for his remains to be rediscovered in remarkable fashion beneath a car park in central Leicester. On 19 March 2015 the opportunity finally arrived for him to be reburied in Leicester Cathedral, in a style a little more befitting a consecrated king.

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Bibliography Manuscripts

London, British Library, Cotton MS Claudius A VIII —— , MS Egerton 2642 —— , MS Harley 48 —— , MS Harley 3504 —— , MS Harley 4632 London, College of Arms, Arundel MS 51 —— , MS I 7 —— , MS M 14 —— , MS R 36 London, The National Archives, E361: Exchequer, Pipe Office: Enrolled Wardrobe and Household Account London, Westminster Abbey, MS 37: The Westminster Missal —— , MS 38: Liber Regalis —— , Muniments 19664 Pamplona, Archivo General de Navarra, MS 197: Pamplona Coronation Order Early Printed Books

A Collection of all the Wills, now known to be extant, of the Kings and Queens of England, ed. by John Nichols (London: Society of Antiquaries, 1780) Hall, Edward, The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Families of Lancastre and Yorke (London: Richard Grafton, 1548) Printed Primary Sources

‘Annales Ricardi Secundi et Henrici Quarti’, in Johannis de Trokelowe et Anon Chronica et Annales, ed. by Henry Thomas Riley (London: Rolls Series, 1866) The Brut, or the Chronicles of England, ed. by Friedrich W. D. Brie, 2 vols (London: Early English Text Society, 1908), vol. 2 Calendar of Letter Books of the City of London: K: Henry VI, ed. by Reginald R. Sharpe (London: Corporation of London, 1911) Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1413–1416 (London: HM Stationery Office, 1910) Chronicles of Enguerrand de Monstrelet, ed. and trans. by Thomas Johnes, 13 vols (London: H. Bohn, 1853), vol. 1 Chronicque de la traïson et mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre, ed. by Benjamin Williams (London: English Historical Society, 1846) Fortescue, Sir John, The Governance of England: Otherwise called The Difference between an Absolute and a Limited Monarchy, ed. by Charles Plummer (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1885) Issues of the Exchequer … from King Henry III to King Henry VI inclusive, ed. by Frederick Devon (London: John Murray, 1837)

c h a p ter 4 . en glish royal f un era ls in the fifteenth century

Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, of the reign of Henry VIII, Volume 1: 1509–1514, ed. by John Sherren Brewer (London: HM Stationery Office, 1920) Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Reigns of Richard III and Henry VII, ed. by James Gairdner, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1861), vol. 1 Liber Regie Capelle: A Manuscript in the Biblioteca Publica, Evora, ed. by Walter Ullmann (London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1959) Missale Ad Usum Ecclesesie Westmonasteriensis, ed. by John Wickham Legg, 3 vols (London: Henry Bradshaw Society, 1893), vol. 2 Registrum Thome Bourgchier, 1454–1486, ed. by Robin Du Boulay, 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1957), vol. 2 Three Books of Polydore Vergil’s English History, comprising the reigns of Henry VI, Edward IV and Richard III, ed. by Sir Henry Ellis (London: Camden Society, 1844) Walsingham, Thomas, Historia Anglicana, ed. by Henry Thomas Riley, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1863–1864), vol. 2 Warkworth, John, A Chronicle of the First Thirteen years of King Edward the Fourth, ed. by James Orchard Halliwell (London: Camden Society, 1839) Secondary Sources

Ayloffe, Joseph, ‘An Account of the Body of King Edward the First, as it Appeared on Opening his Tomb in the Year 1774’, Archaeologia, 3 (1775), 380–84 Burden, Joel, ‘How Do You Bury a Deposed King? The Funeral of Richard II and the Establishment of Lancastrian Royal Authority in 1400’, in Gwilym Dodd and Douglas Biggs (eds), Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime, 1399–1406 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2003), pp. 35–53 —— , ‘Re-writing a Rite of Passage: The Peculiar Funeral of Edward II’, in Nicola McDonald and Mark Ormrod (eds), Rites of Passage: Cultures of Transition in the Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2004), pp. 13–29 —— , Rituals of Royalty: Prescription, Politics and Practice in English Coronation and Royal Funeral Rituals c. 1327 to c. 1485 (PhD thesis, University of York, 1999, published online at [accessed 15 June 2020]) Duffy, Mark, Royal Tombs of Medieval England (Stroud: Tempus, 2003) Given-Wilson, Chris (ed.), Chronicles of the Revolution 1397–1400: The Reign of Richard II (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993) —— , ‘The Exequies of Edward III and the Royal Funeral Ceremony in Late Medieval England’, English Historical Review, 124 (2009), 257–82 Harvey, Anthony and Richard Mortimer (eds), The Funeral Effigies of Westminster Abbey (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1994) Hope, William Henry St John, ‘The Funeral, Monument and Chantry Chapel of King Henry the Fifth’, Archaeologia, 65 (1913–1914), 129–86 —— , Windsor Castle: An Architectural History, 2 vols (London: Country Life, 1913), vol. 2 Langley, Philippa and Michael Jones, The King’s Grave: The Search for Richard III (London: John Murray, 2013) Strohm, Paul, England’s Empty Throne: Usurpation and the Language of Legitimation, 1399–1422 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1998)

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Sutton, Anne, Livia Visser-Fuchs and Peter Hammond (eds), The Reburial of Richard Duke of York, 21–30 July 1476 (London: Richard III Society, 1996) Wilson, Christopher ‘The Tomb of Henry IV and the Holy Oil of St Thomas of Canterbury’, in Paul Crossley and Eric Fernie (eds), Medieval Architecture and Its Intellectual Context: Studies in Honour of Peter Kidson (London: Hambledon Continuum, 1990), pp. 181–90.

Mikhail Boytsov

Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes in the Fifteenth Century In numerous German principalities (just as in other parts of medieval Europe), the funeral ceremonies proper were often anticipated by more or less specific rituals of death, performed by the court, as well as by the dying prince himself. It was quite usual, for example, to invite all councillors into the residence of the dying prince as soon as physicians declared that there was no hope left. The councillors then sat together in silence next to the chamber where their lord agonized, waiting for the minute when the doors would suddenly open wide and they would be invited to observe his already breathless body.1 In their last hours the dying princes (for as long as they were able to control themselves) grasped at traditional patterns of conduct developed by the church, presenting themselves as pious and god-fearing Christians, repenting their sins and desiring salvation for their souls. To attend the mass, to pray, confess, and receive the last sacrament were regarded as common and obligatory. In addition, however moribund, princes often used less regulated means to manifest, in the liminal situation, their personal piety, humility, and hope. Gestures of this kind were often standard and passive, such as holding a burning candle in the weakening hand to the very end, possibly with the aid of a servant.2 But sometimes they were much more active and personal. William IV, count of Henneberg, facing his death in 1480, declared that he wanted to die ‘as [a] pious, just, obedient, patient and humble servant of the omnipotent Lord’: he asked for a Crucifix and began to kiss it, passionately and by no means randomly. At first he kissed the feet of Christ, thereafter His palms, later on His ‘heart’ and finally he kissed Christ on His mouth. Then he pressed the Crucifix to his breast repeating: ‘Almighty,  1 For example, see the discussion of the decease of Archduke Albert VI of Habsburg in 1463 by Hanns Hierszmann, ‘Thürhüthers Herzog Albrechts VI. von Österreich, Bericht über Krankheit und Tod seines Herren. 1463 und 1464’, in Theodor Georg von Karajan (ed.), Kleinere Quellen zur Geschichte Österreichs (Vienna: Gerolds Sohn, 1859), pp. 25–51, especially pp. 42, 44. The same model can be found in the fifteenth century far beyond the borders of the Reich, from the papal curia to the English royal court.  2 Hierszmann, ‘Thürhüthers Herzog Albrechts VI. von Österreich’, p. 44.

Mikhail Boytsov is Professor of Medieval History at the National Research University ‘Higher School of Economics’ of Moscow, and Head of the Centre for Medieval Studies. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 107–122  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120754

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eternal Lord! In my heart enclose I thee and in my heart desire I to retain thee to let you go with me from here, if this would agree with the wish of the Lord’.3 Official announcements were sent to the vassals of the dead, as well as to big imperial cities, to related or allied princes, and they normally contained requests for arranging mourning rituals in their patrimonies, districts, or principalities. First there were memorial liturgies in all churches as well as tolling the bells.4 Replies to official requests often made clear that mourning acts had in fact been successfully organized and sometimes even on a larger scale than requested. Such ceremonies were held within close districts or in distant regions of the principality or in that of its neighbours, and these could have been completed much earlier than the principal celebration in the church where the prince was to be buried. For this performance a long time was needed and much organizational effort. This is why the ‘main’ festivities, most elaborate in terms of technique and art as well as richest in symbolic and political meaning, were usually not carried out directly after the decease of the prince, but only on the so-called ‘thirtieth day’ (die Dreißigsten). In reality, the necessary preparations could take substantially more time than the 30 days. So, in 1493, three and a half months separated the death of Emperor Frederic III in Linz and the solemn mourning act in Vienna. Nevertheless, the guests at this celebration did not hesitate to call it ‘die Dreißigsten’.5 In many cases, such a ceremony was not a funeral in the technical meaning of the word. The coffin with the corpse could have been for weeks or even months (as it might have been with Frederic III) in the family vault. The English and French custom of using funeral effigies as artificial substitutes for dead bodies was not usually adopted in German lands. The mourning festivity was centred very often therefore on an empty ‘symbolic coffin’, creating only the illusion that rituals were being fulfilled presente cadavere. Contemporaries nevertheless seem to have been absolutely satisfied with this illusion and never complained of its non-authenticity. A monumental tomb or cenotaph, built after the ceremony, would become the focus of commemorative acts (that would be repeated every year or even more frequently).6 If it were decorated with a sculptured effigy and covered on such occasions with a piece of luxurious cloth, it could create a very realistic effect, as if the intact body were still present. One of the first stages of the funeral act was the corpse displayed in death for a longer or shorter period. In the case of Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg (1437), this was done in a rather intriguing way, at least if we can trust his con-

 3 Ernst Koch, ‘Der Lebensausgang und die Bestattung Graf Wilhelms IV. zu Henneberg’, Zeitschrift des Vereins für Thüringische Geschichte und Altertumskunde, New Series, vol. 12 (1902), 433–88 (451).  4 For example, see a letter announcing the death of William III, Landgrave of Hesse to his father-in-law Philipp Palatine of the Rhine (1500), (Marburg, Hessischer Staatsarchiv, 2a, 13).  5 See for example: Innsbruck, Tiroler Landesarchiv, Oberösterreichisches Kammerraitbuch 1493/ II (Band 35). Bl. 138.  6 For detail see Karl-Heinz Spiess, ‘Liturgische Memoria und Herrschaftrepräsentation im nicht­f ürst­ lichen Hochadel des Spätmittelalters’, in Werner Rösener (ed.), Adelige und bürgerliche Erinnerungs­ kulturen des Spätmittelalters und der Frühen Neuzeit, Formen der Erinnerung, 8 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), pp. 97–123.

Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes

temporary biographer and confidant Eberhard Windecke (c. 1380–1440/1441). According to Windecke, Sigismund decided to die sitting on his throne — and even succeeded in doing this. But when he was still alive, Sigismund had ordered that his body remain in the same position for the next two or three days, so that everyone could see ‘that the Lord of the whole world is dead and deceased’.7 Windecke’s account can scarcely be accurate in all its details. The very fact of the public display of the Emperor’s corpse for several successive days assumes that the body had first been embalmed. But if that was so, then the story about the spectacular death while sitting on the throne and about the body remaining there in the same position untouched for several days was surely fictional. The fable does not seem to have been a personal invention of Windecke; rather it had been deliberately propagated by Sigismund’s courtiers to explain the unusual form for displaying the prince’s corpse. The reasons for this innovation remain unclear and should be possibly sought for in eschatological rather than in political concepts of that time. We hear again of exposing a dead German Emperor sitting, but unfortunately only in an account written much later after the event it describes. A well-known merchant and Maecenas from Augsburg, Hans Jakob Fugger, commissioned from Clemens Jäger (c. 1500–1561), archivist and historian, a luxurious history of the Habsburg dynasty. In one of the chapters of this ‘Mirror of Honour of the House of Austria’, Jäger depicts vividly the last days and death of Frederic III in 1493. According to the author, the corpse of the Emperor was embalmed, dressed in full garments and seated ‘upon a very beautiful armchair’ in a big room, where everyone could see it sitting.8 If we set aside the improbable ‘dying on the throne’ scene by Windecke, both episodes mentioned above differ in only one important respect. Whereas dead Sigismund was sitting dressed modestly like a deacon,9 the corpse of Frederic III (if the episode really took place) was decorated with the entire magnificence of his imperial dignity. Humility in the exposure of Sigismund’s body had given place to the idea of majesty.10 The most impressive (as well as the best documented) demonstration of a seated dead prince is well known from the traditional and obligatory part of funeral ceremonies held in the ecclesiastical principality of Würzburg, where it was practised from the fifteenth century (or maybe even earlier) until 1617. After embalming and dressing (‘as if for liturgy’), the body of a deceased princebishop was set in an armchair installed upon a bier. Decorated with the insignia of ecclesiastical and secular power — the crosier and sword respectively — the body on the bier was carried by 14 young noblemen in solemn procession from  7 Eberhard Windecke, Denkwürdigkeiten zur Geschichte Kaiser Sigmunds, ed. by Wilhelm Altmann (Berlin: Gaertner, 1893), p. 447.  8 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, cgm 896, fol. 383r.  9 Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cvp 13975, fol. 439r.  10 For more about deceased princes sitting on their thrones, see Michail A. Bojcov, ‘Der tote Papst im Sessel und andere Gespenster’, in Hans-Joachim Schmidt and Martin Rhode (eds), Papst Johannes XXII. Konzepte und Verfahren seines Pontifikats, Scrinium Friburgense, 32 (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, 2014), pp. 501–33 (pp. 513–21).

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one important church in Würzburg to another for three or four days. On the first day it was usually brought with different ceremonies from the main bishops’ residence (the fortress Marienberg), to the ancient convent of St Jacob on the same left bank of the Main. There the corpse was positioned in the middle of the church before the high altar, guarded by courtiers, and remained the centre of vigils over the next night and during two masses following each other in the morning.11 In the afternoon, the entire clergy from the cathedral (on the right bank) arrived in a solemn procession at St Jacob and thereafter returned in the same order back again — with all bells tolling — escorting the body over the bridge, up to the market square and along the central streets towards the Dome.12 At the end of this journey the bier with its sitting corpse was set upon the stone font in the main nave in front of the high altar. The only parallel to this last custom (as far as we know) can be identified in Florence, where there was a long tradition of setting the coffin with the mortal remains of ecclesiastical persons as well as laymen upon the font in the famous baptistery facing the main entrance of the cathedral. The idea of this symbolic gesture was to render visible to the congregation the end of the circle of life as well as the eternal rotation of life and death (which may be an allusion to Romans 6. 3–5, pointing to the connection between baptism, death, and resurrection).13 In Würzburg on the second day of the funeral ritual, in the morning, the sitting bishop’s corpse was moved to the New Minster (Neumünster). There, in the crypt, the corpse spent one more night, close to the sarcophagus with the remains of the three saints, ‘Apostles of Frankenland’: Kilian, Kolonat and Totnan,14 heavenly patrons of the episcopacy and the principality. Only on the fourth day, after being returned back into the cathedral and after completion of the burial service, was the body taken down from its armchair; the crosier and sword were exchanged for their cheap funeral substitutes, and the bishop was at last buried, laid (not sat!) into the grave ‘with usual church rites’ and all the bells pealing out. Court officials threw their staves into the open grave to show that they laid down their functions. The last rite, mentioned by scholars principally in relation to the funeral rituals of French kings was in fact the practice also in German principalities: not only in Würzburg, but also in Bamberg, and possibly elsewhere.

 11 Friedrich Merzbacher, ‘Die Begräbnisordnung der Würzburger Fürstenbischöfe im späteren Mittel­ alter’, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 69 (1952) (Kanonistische Abteilung, 38), 500–06 (501–03).  12 See also a new survey of this local funeral rite: Malte Prietzel, ‘Le corps des évêques. L’exemple de Wurtzbourg aux XVe et XVIe siècles’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (ed.), Le corps du Prince, Micrologus, 22 (Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), 67–104 (88–95).  13 Sharon T. Strocchia, Death and Ritual in Renaissance Florence, The John Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science, Series 110, vol. 1 (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1992), p. 139.  14 Christian Grebner, ‘Tod und Begräbnis des Würzburger Fürstbischofs Konrad von Thüngen (1519–1540)’, Würzburger Diözesangeschichtsblätter, 50 (1988), 121–29 (126).

Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes

In contrast to most German princes of that time, each bishop of Würzburg received not one or two, but three graves. His viscera, withdrawn from the body in the course of embalming, were shortly thereafter (possibly without much ceremony) interred in the ancient St Mary’s Church within the fortress Marienberg (built as early as the eleventh century) (Figure 5.1). The heart was secured in a separate vessel (from the fifteenth century usually made of glass), and was later solemnly carried by the bishop’s marshal leading the 14 noblemen with the bier on their shoulders, as they transported the corpse from one church to another. At each station the heart remained lying at the feet of the deceased bishop. Only after the body was finally put into its grave in the cathedral, was the heart sent in a specially decorated mourning carriage to the ancient Cistercian convent Ebrach, about 50 km to the east of Würzburg. The conveyance of the heart was traditionally given to the eldest servant of the deceased bishop. But first he had to play one more modest, but important, role in all the Figure 5.1. St Mary’s Church in Marienberg funeral processions. In spite of a ‘robust stake’ (Würzburg) (photo by the author). (mentioned in contemporary accounts)15 driven into the corpse of the bishop up to the neck in order to let it sit upright, the head of the corpse remained always swinging. The eldest servant, dressed in black, had to stand upon the bier behind the armchair and to hold with both hands draped in a white scarf the head of the deceased crowned with his mitre. Having completed this mission and having delivered the bishop’s heart to Ebrach, the servant would remain in the abbey, where the monks took care of him until the end of his life. The Cistercians of Ebrach used to greet the hearts of their deceased princes with elaborate ceremonies, prayers, and liturgy, burying them in a special tomb dedicated to them beyond the high altar of the abbey church. This unusual sepulchre was constructed in Ebrach in 1287 by bishop Berthold II, who was especially devoted to this convent. It was destroyed in the Bauernkrieg in 1525,

 15 For one case from 1558, see August Schäffler, ‘Tod und Bestattung des Würzburger Fürstbischofs Melchior Zobel’, Archiv des Historischen Vereins von Unterfranken und Aschaffenburg, 23 (1875–1876), 193–232 (218).

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was reconstructed again then and remained in use until 1573 (Figure 5.2).16 The setting up of this ‘Theatrum et Cordium Episcopalium Mausolaeum’ was both unusual and innovative; Berthold II (or rather his successors who turned his initiative into a consistent tradition) could have had only one model: the tombs for the hearts of Plantagenet kings in the Abbey of Fontevrault. The special necropolis for princes’ hearts in Ebrach, so far as is known, remained unique in German lands. In contrast to French custom,17 the separating of hearts and maintaining supplementary dynastic tombs exclusively for them seems not to have been popular for high nobility in the empire, even in the fifteenth century. German kings or emperors in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries had two graves: one for the intestines and another for the corpse, a custom in use since Otto I; they did not have three graves. This does not mean that the custom of dividing the corpse into three parts was known only in Würzburg, since one archbishop of Trier described in his will (1455) the monument he wished to be erected at his future heart’s tomb in Metz.18 No less unique was one local custom observed in the burials of bishops of Speyer. This arose not from individual devotion or imitation of authoritative models (as possibly had been the case at Würzburg and Ebrach), but from merely political circumstances. As soon as the body of a deceased bishop of Speyer was displayed in public (lying, not sitting) in the cathedral, there approached the members of the chapter on the one side, as well as those of the city council on the other. Both these parties were prepared for a robust dialogue, because the relations between the city community and the episcopacy of Speyer were often rather tense, especially in the fourteenth century (and even later). ‘Do you recognize here your lord?’ asked one of the canons, pointing to the lying body. ‘Yes, we recognize here your lord!’ was the immediate and challenging answer.19 The chapter made a resolute protest; the city council rejected it no less resolutely. After performing this ritual wrangle, the canons proceeded together with the burghers to the funeral meal, possibly in a most friendly atmosphere. The ceremony included a clear ‘constitutional’ motive reflecting the continuous, mostly latent conflict between the two political institutions. At the same time, ritual mitigated the conflict, transforming it into a ceremonial exchange of heated remarks.

 16 Ignaz Gropp, Monumenta sepulchralia ecclesiae Ebracensis (Würzburg: Fuggart, 1730); Alfred Wendehorst (ed.), Das Bistum Würzburg. Germania Sacra. N.F. 4, 6 vols (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1969), vol. 2, p. 28; Helmut Schulze, ‘Der Würzburger Dom und sein Bereich als Grablege. Teil 3’, Würzburger Diözesangeschichtsblätter, 41 (1979), 1–77 (55).  17 Jean Nagle, La civilisation du coeur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France, du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998); Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres: la mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), pp. 315–44.  18 Koblenz, Landeshauptarchiv. 1 D No. 1171. fol. 5.  19 Kurt Andermann, ‘Zeremoniell und Brauchtum beim Begräbnis und beim Regierungsantritt Speyerer Bischöfe. Formen der Repräsentation von Herrschaft im späten Mittelalter und in der frühen Neuzeit’, in Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, Jg. 42 (1990), 125–77 (136–39).

Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes

Figure 5.2. Tombs of hearts of bishops of Würzburg in Ebrach (Engraving, seventeenth or eighteenth century).

Such colourful funeral ceremonies, as in Würzburg and Speyer, were not encountered everywhere in German lands. In many cases the sources recount a very traditional church funeral, only ‘enlarged’ or even ‘multiplied’ almost in its every detail, in order to reflect the princely standing of the deceased. Thus it was normal to gather as many priests as possible for the main act of celebration. At the funeral ceremony of the Saxon duchess Margarethe in 1486, 179 prelates and priests were present.20 In the hierarchy of the Reich, the counts of Henneberg were a step or two lower than the dukes of Saxony. ‘Only’ 103 prelates, priests and monks gathered for the impressive memorial feast after the decease of count  20 Meiningen, Thüringisches Staatsarchiv. Gemeinschaftliches Hennebergisches Archiv. Hennebergica aus Magdeburg, no. 50, fol. 12v.

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William IV in 1480.21 Organizers of a similar ceremony for the count Philipp of Hanau-Münzenberg in 1500 had reason to be proud of themselves, because of the 214 clergymen who attended.22 Not only was the number of clergy present important, but also their rank: there were more bishops and venerable abbots among the clergymen attending the funeral of Margarethe than among those at Philipp’s ceremony. The position of the deceased prince in the imperial hierarchy was represented through many other details, both great and small. For example, it was significant how many masses were held (counted normally in hundreds, but sometimes in thousands): how many poor men arrived to pray for the soul of the deceased; what sums of money were distributed among them; how many lights burned; what amount of wax was consumed for all candles and torches used; what princes personally attended the feast; who sent their representatives and in what order were they all, standing in the church or sitting at meals. Many handwritten reports with descriptions of such matters can be found in diverse archives. The invention of printing did not much change the style of such accounts but made them much more accessible to an interested public. The first intensive use of the new technology in German lands for informing the public about a court funeral was made for the burial of Emperor Frederic III in 1493. There are eight known incunabula concerning this event, two in Latin and six in different German dialects,23 published in Vienna, Augsburg, Leipzig, Antwerp, Freiburg and Mainz. From the evidence available, funeral feasts in the German principalities in the fifteenth century remained generally rather conservative. There were variations from one residence to another, but normally it was the traditional liturgical rite that determined the mourning act, followed by a no less traditional funeral meal. It must not have been easy to bring new forms into this rigid framework. Nevertheless, one important change from the traditional church model of mourning and commemoration emerged at several European courts in the fourteenth century. The old custom of making offerings at the altar of the sepulchre church evolved into a magnificent and impressive procession, rich in the use of secular symbols, especially with regard to heraldic elements.24 Persons taking part presented solemnly not only candles with golden coins (as principal mourners used to do), or small pieces (prepared beforehand by courtiers for the poor in order to aid their oblations) but also the arms and horses of the deceased. (In such cases the horses were led inside the church along the entire nave up to the main altar and then they left either by a side door or back out through the main entrance. Later they were mostly redeemed by the court.)  21 Meiningen, Thüringisches Staatsarchiv. Gemeinschaftliches Hennebergisches Archiv. Sektion I, no. 46.  22 Marburg, Hessisches Staatsarchiv, 81 A, Rubr. 26, no. 7, fol. 1r.  23 Otto Schottenloher, Drei Frühdrucke zur Reichsgeschichte, Veröffentlichungen der Gesellschaft für Typenkunde des 15. Jahrhunderts, Wiegendruckgesellschaft Reihe B, 2 (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1938), p. 29, numbers 16 to 23.  24 On the oblations in detail see Arnold Angenendt, Offertorium. Das mittelalterliche Meßopfer. Liturgiewissenschaftliche Quellen und Forschungen, 101 (Münster: Aschendorff, 2013), especially in connection with royal and princely funerals, pp. 461–68.

Chapter 5. Death and Funerals of German Emperors, Kings, and Princes

This original ceremony was enriched step by step in a sort of highly theatrical performance — both of mourning and of knighthood. Particularly impressive must have been the illusion that the late lord himself was taking part in his own funeral procession. One knight (often having the visor of his helmet closed) dressed in the armour of the deceased and carried his heraldic arms, riding the lord’s horse.25 Where this ‘new style’ was originally created still remains unclear. It might have emerged in England,26 or in Flanders,27 in the late thirteenth century and seems to have been implemented for the funeral of Emperor Henry VII in Pisa (1313).28 The earliest extended descriptions surviving for Central Europe relate only to the funeral feasts for Charles I Robert of Anjou, King of Hungary (1342) and Gunther of Schwarzburg, abdicated King of Germany (1349). Unfortunately, there is almost nothing known about the ceremonies that accompanied the funerals of German kings and emperors in the first decades of the fifteenth century. Only for the funeral of the King Albert II of Habsburg in Stuhlweissenburg (Székesfehérvár) in 1439 does there survive an ordo of the procession in the ‘international style’. The unknown author of the ordo planned to aggregate 17 groups of participants, proceeding one after another, each symbolically representing one of the possessions (or one of the titles) of the deceased. Fourteen such groups were composed equally, each consisting of four noblemen with heraldic emblems of ‘their’ land: the first one (and as a rule the highest in rank) carried its banner, the second — the crested helm, the third — the shield bearing coat of arms, the fourth — the sword. In addition, probably two more persons (not noble ones) led a horse caparisoned in the land’s arms.29 The last three ‘modules’, visualizing the Czech Kingdom, the Kingdom of Hungary, and finally the Holy Roman Empire, consisted not of four but of seven noblemen each. Within each of the ‘modules’, banner, crested helm, and shield were again in the leading position, but additionally they were followed by the crown, orb, and sceptre, while the sword remained at the very end of the list. On the one hand, all the crowns, mentioned here, could certainly not have been the real state crowns of the empire and both kingdoms (Albert did not  25 For details see Mikhail A. Boytsov, ‘Ghostly Knights: Kings’ Funerals in Fourteenth-century Europe and the Emergence of an International Style’, in Joëlle Rollo-Koster (ed.), Death in Medieval Europe: Death Scripted and Death Choreographed (London and New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 140–63.  26 Nadia Pollini, La Mort du Prince. Rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451), Cahier Lausannois d’Histoire Médiévale, 9 (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994), p. 89; Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ‘L’offrande des chevaux. Une question ouverte’, in Eva Maier, Antoine Rochat and Denis Tappy (eds), A cheval entre histoire et droit. Hommage à Jean-François Poudret, Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 115 (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1999), pp. 109–17 (p. 115).  27 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 179–80. The author does not exclude also possible English origins of the custom.  28 ‘Cuius […] funus octo comitatus Lutzelnburgensis et sedecim in armis imperialibus, clyppeis et vexillis controversis, antecedebant’, in Kurt-Ulrich Jäschke (ed.), Imperator Heinricus. Ein spätmittelalterlicher Text über Kaiser Heinrich VII. in kritischer Beleuchtung. Beiheft zu Hémecht 1988 (Luxemburg: St-Paulus-Druckerei, 1988), p. 130.  29 Wilhelm Hauser, ‘Der Trauerzug beim Begräbnis des deutschen Königs Albrecht II. († 1439)’, Adler. Zeitschrift für Genealogie und Heraldik, 7 (21) (1967), 191–95.

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have them with him). On the other hand, organizers of the funeral ceremony had scarcely enough time at their disposal to commission special funeral crowns as simplified copies of the true ones. They might have used the first available crowns that were found in the king’s treasury. A similar procession on the same ‘royal and imperial’ level took place in 1493 in Vienna on the ‘Dreißigsten’ of the Emperor Frederic III.30 The procession was headed by eight heralds. This time there were no ‘representatives’ of the Czech Kingdom, but Austria was represented as a double ‘module’ (for ‘Old Austria’ and ‘New Austria’). There were no crowns, swords, or orbs carried, but each ‘module’ was enriched with eight noblemen, holding burning candles. The ‘module’ of Hungary was organized in the same way as all other groups and only that of the empire was visually emphasized with the figure of the herald Romrich pacing before the banner of the Reich bearing a golden cloak decorated with imperial coats of arms. Some two years later there was another significant funeral in the House of Habsburg: archduke Sigismund of Tirol, cousin of the Emperor, died in 1496 in Innsbruck. As for the funeral of 1493, the mourning feast must have been supervised personally by Maximilian I (the heir of the deceased), or at least by his close councillors. A surviving draft of Sigismund’s funeral procession illustrates how different such celebrations could be, even within the same family.31 Strangely enough, this time the planned procession had nothing to do with the ‘international style’. Even if Sigismund had abdicated in 1490 for the benefit of Maximilian, he had reserved all his titles which could be represented in a funeral procession with the usual heraldic means: charges and arms. Yet, in the draft there is not a single word concerning representative ‘modules’, horses, or heraldry. All the provisions were made only for the young widow, her ladies-in-waiting and other courtiers, members of the local government, as well as the respectable burghers of Innsbruck. Their planned procession did not involve any offertory: it consisted simply in the conduct of the body from the prince’s residence to St Jacob, the main church of Innsbruck. Doubtless, this funeral procession was to be solemn: the author planned to have 18 pages with torches and 12 noblemen with burning candles. (There were in fact many more candles expected, for the mendicants had to bring their own candles with them.) Ahead of the bier with the prince’s body, four personally named high noblemen would solemnly carry the vessels containing Sigismund’s viscera. Although the document does not clearly specify, these vessels were no doubt intended to be buried at St Jacob, whereas the corpse would be transported to the old sepulchre of the Counts

 30 For detail see Hans Peter Zelfel, Ableben und Begräbnis Friedrichs III., Dissertationen der Universität Wien, 103 (Vienna: Verband der wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaften Osterreichs, 1974) and Michail A. Bojcov, ‘Totenfeier für Kaiser Friedrich III.: Die Vorbereitungen des Veranstalters’, in Franz Fuchs, Paul-Joachim Heinig and Martin Wagendorfer (eds), König und Kanzlist, Kaiser und Papst. Friedrich III. und Enea Silvio Piccolomini in Wiener Neustadt, Forschungen zur Kaiser- und Papst­ geschichte des Mittelalters, 32 (Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 2013), pp. 281–305.  31 Innsbruck, Tiroler Landesarchiv, Ältere Kopialbücher, Teilband S (19), p. 221.

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of Tirol in the convent of Stams about 40 km to the West of Innsbruck. Yet, all these solemnities give the impression of being outdated for the late fifteenth century and no longer signs of honour. Perhaps it should be assumed that the ‘international style’ was deemed appropriate only for the ‘royal level’ and was perceived as unduly ambitious for burials of imperial princes? However, the fact is that this assumption is incorrect, as is demonstrated by the example of the counts of Württemberg: they adopted the ‘international style’ not later than 1417.32 The procession designed for the funeral of Ulrich III at the Holy Cross church in Stuttgart proved to be so elaborate that there was obviously no need to modify its structure for the following funerals. Sixty-three years later, when Ulrich V died in 1480, the procession was designed in the same way.33 Its description adds a few more details to our knowledge, such as that the procession began after three masses had been sung one after another. The core of the procession consisted, both in 1417 and in 1480, of six horsemen (men and horses dressed in black) of rather humble origin as, it seems, all of them were servants. There were only noblemen (among them four counts) leading the horses by the bridle, at least in 1480. This honourable escort was considered not appropriate for these modest riders. They all arrived in different armour, the first horseman in 1480 was in an armour called ‘cancer’, the second looked as if he were prepared for serious battle (his horse was also protected by a cuirass), the third and fourth were equipped for two diverse types of tournament, the fifth was in a light armour, whereas the sixth mounted an ambler and held a battle-axe. Although there is no clear evidence in the accounts themselves, there is no doubt that the armour and horses had belonged to the late prince, and the ‘offertory cavalcade’ as a whole was but a symbolic representation of the dead. Weapons and horses were offered up in oblation to the church (the horses were later redeemed by the court), as well as three further objects: Ulrich’s banner, his sword, and shield. In 1480 the first rider (Gabriel Marstaller) made a short but pathetic speech as he passed the banner over to the young count, standing in front of the altar: ‘My lord kept fidelity to this banner during his entire life, spilling his blood for it; that is why the banner is to be donated to the church for the salvation of his soul’. Both processions in 1417 and 1480 were rich in symbols of death: coats of arms were held in an inverted position (an old semantic technique used already after the demise of Emperor Henry VIII in 1313, as well as by English, Italian or French dynasties possibly several decades earlier); sword pointing downwards with three candles burning on its hilt; the tip of the banner’s staff bent to the

 32 Stuttgart, Hauptstaatsarchiv, A 602 WR 28, fols 7r-8r.  33 Stuttgart, Hauptstaatsarchiv, A 602 WR 211, fols 18r-34r; Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cvp 9030, fols 132r-44v. Existing publications of this account do not meet modern scholarly standards, see Johann Ulrich Steinhofer, Ehre des Herzogtums Wirtenberg In seinen Durchlauchtigsten Regenten, Oder Neue Wirtenbergische Chronik. Part 3 (Stuttgart: Jenisch, 1752), pp. 304–17, and Friedrich Carl von Moser, Kleine Schriften, zur Erläuterung des Staats-und völckerrechts, wie auch des Hof-und Canzley-Cermoniels. Part 11 (Frankfurt am Main: Andreä, 1764), pp. 323–40.

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right side, as well as heraldic decorations on all crested helms. The concluding parts of both processions were also similar: either two riding servants (1417), or only one (1480) leading a horse with a ‘load’, described in 1480 as a ‘velvet sack, covered with black cloth’, suggesting that the prince was setting out on a very long expedition. The ‘international style’ was adopted early by the Württemberg dynasty. The funeral custom in Stuttgart demonstrated astonishing consistency: from the very beginning and over a long period, we observe the same stable tradition optimized in the offertory procession. That this was not the general rule can be shown by an example from another burial usage from South Germany, practised at the Cistercian Heilsbronn Abbey. This abbey, not far from Ansbach, remained the family burial place of the Hohenzollern dynasty even after 1415, when its members were raised to prince-electors, margraves of Brandenburg. Here, the ‘international style’ is documented for the first time much later than in Württemberg, only in 1440,34 but from the very beginning all three basic elements were present: banners, armour and shields, as well as horses. The accounts of the first funeral ceremonies (1440, 1464)35 indicate that organizers did not have a clear model for the offertory procession yet and were ready to experiment with different forms. They oscillated between aggregating banners, arms and horses in three different ‘blocks’, or distributing all of them together among several mixed ‘modules’ of the same type as we encountered above by the Habsburgs. On the other hand, it was not clear how many such ‘modules’ were needed. In 1440 and 1464 there were only three of them (Margraviate Brandenburg, Burgraviate of Nuremberg, County of Zollern), in 1471 — there were already ten. Only in 1471 was, at last, a suitable combination of ‘blocks’ and ‘modules’ found.36 The funeral of 1471 seems to have been crucial, perhaps because it turned out to be very successful: according to one account, it was attended by 5000 spectators.37 The solid basis for a dynastic tradition was created on this occasion, since the burial of Albert Achilles in 1486 reproduced exactly the model of 1471.38 These three examples, from Stuttgart, Ansbach and also from Innsbruck, are sufficient to arrive at the conclusion that the ‘international style’, in its different variations, began to be adopted by German princes’ courts in the fifteenth century, but was also adjusted to meet the specific needs of individual dynasties. However, this was not everywhere: the new mode was not adopted even in the Tirol, which was usually open to innovation in the matter of political  34 Adolph Friedrich Riedel (ed.), Codex diplomaticus Brandenburgensis. Sammlung der Urkunden, Chroniken und sonstigen Quellenschriften für die Geschichte der Mark Brandenburg und ihrer Regenten, Hauptteil 3, 85 vols (Berlin: Reimer, 1859), vol. 1, p. 237, no. 147.  35 Carl Ferdinand von Jung, Miscellanea, 5 vols (Frankfurt am Main and Leipzig: [Feise], 1739), vol. 1, pp, 314–15; Riedel, Codex, p. 373, no. 253.  36 Riedel, Codex, pp. 546–48, no. 391.  37 Riedel, Codex, p. 548, no. 391.  38 Jung, Miscellanea, vol. 1, pp. 322–39; Carl Ferdinand von Jung, Miscellanea, 5 vols (Ansbach: Rönnagel & Keul, 1740), vol. 3, pp. 300–05.

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representation. For the historian, it is especially interesting to track the way along which the ‘international style’ descended gradually from the ‘royal level’ to that of the secular princes of the empire. But the range of these innovations should not be overestimated. The German offertory processions in the fifteenth century were not renaissance triumphs, inspired by antiquity or Petrarch. In this regard, any search for a direct impact of Italian humanism on the funeral culture of German high nobility in the period earlier than the reign of Maximilian I can be deeply disappointing.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Innsbruck, Tiroler Landesarchiv, Ältere Kopialbücher, Teilband S (19), p. 221, Die Proceß Ertzhertzog Sigmund von Osterreich löblicher gedechtnuss —— , Tiroler Landesarchiv, Oberösterreichisches Kammerraitbuch 1493/ II (Band 35), fol. 138 Koblenz, Landeshauptarchiv, 1 D, no. 1171. fol. 5r, Testament of Archbishop Jakob von Sierck of Trier 1455 Marburg, Hessisches Staatsarchiv, 81 A, Rubr. 26, no. 7, fol. 1r, Beerdigung des Grafen Philipp d.J. von Hanau. Münzenberg. 1500 —— , Hessisches Staatsarchiv, 2a, 13, Letter to Philipp Palatine of the Rhine, announcing the death of William III of Hesse (1500) Meiningen, Thüringisches Staatsarchiv, Gemeinschaftliches Hennebergisches Archiv, Hennebergica aus Magdeburg, no. 50, Tod und Begräbnis der Gräfin Margarete von Henneberg geb. Herzogin von Braunschweig 1509 —— , Thüringisches Staatsarchiv, Gemeinschaftliches Hennebergisches Archiv, Sektion I, no. 46, Akten betreffend die Krankheit und den Tod des Grafen Wilhelm IV. zu Henneberg 1480–1498 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, cgm 896, Johann Jakob Fugger, Clemens Jäger, Ehrenspiegel des Hauses Österreich Stuttgart, Hauptstaatsarchiv, A 602 WR 28, Ceremoniae funebres —— , Hauptstaatsarchiv, A 603 WR 211, fols 18r-34r, Ordnung der Leichbegängnus Graff Ulrichs von Württemberg zu Studtgartten vff Sontag dionisii Anno etc. 1480 Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cvp 9030, fols 132r-44v —— , Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cvp 13975, Eberhard Windecke, Kaiser Sigismunds Buch Early Printed Books

Gropp, Ignaz, Monumenta sepulchralia ecclesiae Ebracensis (Würzburg: Fuggart, 1730) Jung, Carl Ferdinand von, Miscellanea, 5 vols (Frankfurt am Main and Leipzig: [Feise], 1739), vol. 1 —— , Miscellanea, 5 vols (Ansbach: Rönnael & Keul, 1740), vol. 3 Moser, F. C. von, Kleine Schriften, Part 11 (Frankfurt am Main: Andreä, 1764) Steinhofer, Johann Ulrich, Ehre des Herzogtums Wirtenberg In seinen Durchlauchtigsten Regenten, Oder Neue Wirtenbergische Chronik, Part 3 (Stuttgart: Jenisch, 1752) Primary Sources

Hauser, Wilhelm, ‘Der Trauerzug beim Begräbnis des deutschen Königs Albrecht II. († 1439)’, Adler. Zeitschrift für Genealogie und Heraldik, 7 (21) (1967), 191–95 Hierszmanns, Hanns, ‘Thürhüthers Herzog Albrechts VI. von Österreich, Bericht über Krankheit und Tod seines Herren. 1463 und 1464’, in Theodor Georg von Karajan

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(ed.), Kleinere Quellen zur Geschichte Österreichs (Vienna: Gerolds Sohn, 1859), pp. 25–51 Jäschke, Kurt-Ulrich (ed.), Imperator Heinricus. Ein spätmittelalterlicher Text über Kaiser Heinrich VII. in kritischer Beleuchtung. Beiheft zu Hémecht 1988 (Luxemburg: StPaulus-Druckerei, 1988) Koch, Ernst, ‘Der Lebensausgang und die Bestattung Graf Wilhelms IV. zu Henneberg’, Zeitschrift des Vereins für Thüringische Geschichte und Altertumskunde, New Series, vol. 12 (1902), pp. 433–88 Merzbacher, Friedrich, ‘Die Begräbnisordnung der Würzburger Fürstenbischöfe im späteren Mittelalter’, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, vol. 69. 1952 (Kanonistische Abteilung, 38), 500–06 Riedel, Adolph Friedrich (ed.), Codex diplomaticus Brandenburgensis. Sammlung der Urkunden, Chroniken und sonstigen Quellenschriften für die Geschichte der Mark Brandenburg und ihrer Regenten, Hauptteil 3, 85 vols (Berlin: Reimer, 1859), vol. 1 Schäffler, August, ‘Tod und Bestattung des Würzburger Fürstbischofs Melchior Zobel’, Archiv des Historischen Vereins von Unterfranken und Aschaffenburg, 23 (1875–1876), 193–232 Schottenloher, Otto, Drei Frühdrucke zur Reichsgeschichte, Veröffentlichungen der Gesell­ schaft für Typenkunde des 15. Jahrhunderts, Wiegendruckgesellschaft Reihe B, 2 (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1838) Windecke, Eberhard, Denkwürdigkeiten zur Geschichte Kaiser Sigmunds, ed. by Wilhelm Altmann (Berlin: Gaertner, 1893) Secondary Sources

Andermann, Kurt, ‘Zeremoniell und Brauchtum beim Begräbnis und beim Regierungsantritt Speyerer Bischöfe. Formen der Repräsentation von Herrschaft im späten Mittelalter und in der frühen Neuzeit’, Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, 42 (1990), 125–77 Angenendt, Arnold, Offertorium. Das mittelalterliche Meßopfer, Liturgiewissenschaftliche Quellen und Forschungen, 101 (Münster: Aschendorff, 2013) Babendererde, Cornell, ‘Totengedenken, Begräbnis und Begängnis’, in Werner Paravicini, Jan Hirschbiegel and Jörg Wettlaufer (eds), Höfe und Residenzen im spätmittelalterlichen Reich. Bilder und Begriffe, Residenzenforschung, 15, II. Part 1. Begriffe (Ostfildern: Thorbecke, 2005), pp. 495–99 Bojcov, Michail A., ‘Totenfeier für Kaiser Friedrich III.: Die Vorbereitungen des Veranstalters’, in Franz Fuchs, Paul-Joachim Heinig and Martin Wagendorfer (eds), König und Kanzlist, Kaiser und Papst. Friedrich III. und Enea Silvio Piccolomini in Wiener Neustadt, Forschungen zur Kaiser- und Papstgeschichte des Mittelalters, 32 (Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 2013), pp. 281–305 —— , ‘Der tote Papst im Sessel und andere Gespenster’, in Hans-Joachim Schmidt and Martin Rohde (eds), Papst Johannes XXII. Konzepte und Verfahren seines Pontifikats, Scrinium Friburgense, 32 (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, 2014), pp. 501–33 —— , ‘Ghostly Knights: Kings’ Funerals in Fourteenth-century Europe and the Emergence of an International Style’, in Joëlle Rollo-Koster (ed.), Death in Medieval

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Europe; Death Scripted and Death Choreographed (London and New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 149–63 Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres: la mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), pp. 315–44 Grebner, Christian, ‘Tod und Begräbnis des Würzburger Fürstbischofs Konrad von Thüngen (1519–1540)’, Würzburger Diözesangeschichtsblätter, 50 (1988), 121–29 Nagle, Jean, La civilisation du coeur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France, du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998) Paravicini Bagliani, Agostino, ‘L’offrande des chevaux. Une question ouverte’, in Eva Maier, Antoine Rochat and Denis Tappy (eds), A cheval entre histoire et droit. Hommage à Jean-François Poudret, Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 115 (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1999), pp. 109–17 Pollini, Nadia, La Mort du Prince. Rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451), Cahier Lausannois d’Histoire Médiévale, 9 (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) Prietzel, Malte, ‘Le corps des évêques. L’exemple de Wurtzbourg aux XVe et XVIe siècles’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (ed.), Le corps du Prince, Micrologus, 22 (Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), 67–104 Schulze, Helmut, ‘Der Würzburger Dom und sein Bereich als Grablege. Teil 3’, Würzburger Diözesangeschichtsblätter, 41 (1979), 1–77 Spiess, Karl-Heinz, ‘Liturgische Memoria und Herrschaftrepräsentation im nichtfürst­ lichen Hochadel des Spätmittelalters’, in Werner Rösener (ed.), Adelige und bürger­ liche Erinnerungskulturen des Spätmittelalters und der Frühen Neuzeit, Formen der Erinnerung, 8 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000) pp. 97–123 Strocchia, Sharon T., Death and Ritual in Renaissance Florence, The John Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science, Series 110, vol. 1 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992) Wendehorst, Alfred (ed.), Das Bistum Würzburg 2: Die Bischofsreihe von 1254 bis 1455 (Germania Sacra, Neue Folge vol. 4), (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter, 1969) Zelfel, Hans Peter, Ableben und Begräbnis Friedrichs  III, Dissertationen der Universität Wien, 103 (Vienna: Verband der wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaften Osterreichs, 1974)

Maria Nadia Covini

Tran sl at e d by J. R . M ul ry ne

Chapter 6. Between Visconti and Sforza Notes on the Funeral Ceremonies of the Dukes of Milan in the Fifteenth Century In 1402, the funeral of the first duke of Milan, Gian Galeazzo Visconti, was celebrated with elaborate and solemn ceremony. The means adopted might have created a precedent for Visconti’s successors and the beginning of a ‘ducal’ or even ‘royal’ tradition of funeral celebration. For a number of reasons, this did not happen. The funerals of the Lombard princes of the fifteenth century were celebrated in a modest and at times hasty fashion. The exequies of the first duke nevertheless deserve special attention, both because of the novel ceremonies they introduced, and because of their imitation of the customs and practices characteristic of ultramontane monarchies. Gian Galeazzo, struck down by increasingly intense fevers, died in the ducal castle of Melegnano, a few miles from Milan, on 3 September. If attempts were made to conceal what happened — an event which changed the entire political complexion of Italy — ambassadorial dispatches quickly divulged the news. The Florentines, who feared the increasing aggressiveness of the Visconti, rejoiced, and the allies who had supported the claims and striking successes of Milanese expansionism were in despair. Following the official announcement, Gian Galeazzo’s body was carried to the nearby abbey of the Humiliati of Viboldone, whence the confessor came who had administered the last rites to the dying prince.1 The holiness of the place was suited to the sacred role recently adopted by the Visconti, who in 1395 had obtained from Emperor Wenceslaus the title of dukes and princes of the empire. Gian Galeazzo’s funeral was celebrated in Milan several days later, on 20 October, with especially solemn pomp, but without the duke’s body, which remained at Viboldone. The grand cortège departed from the castle of Porta Giovia, and proceeded to the Duomo.2 Overseen with great

 1 Giacinto Romano, ‘Di una nuova ipotesi sulla morte e sulla sepoltura di Giangaleazzo Visconti’, Archivio storico italiano, ser. V, 20 (1897), 247–85.  2 Andrea Billia, ‘Mediolanensium rerum historia’, in L. A. Muratori, Rerum italicarum scriptores, 28 vols (Mediolani, 1731), vol. 19, cols 491–96; Bernardino Corio, Storia di Milano, ed. by A. Morisi Guerra (Turin: Unione tip. ed. torinese, 1978), pp. 971–77. Maria Nadia Covini is Associate Professor of Medieval History at the Università degli Studi, Milan. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 123–139  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120755

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care by the masters of ceremonies, and in particular by first secretary Francesco Barbavara, the ceremony lasted more than 14 hours and culminated in a sermon by Pietro da Castelletto3 rehearsing the genealogy of the Visconti,4 a central text in the assembly of an ambitious ‘memory project’, conceived as inaugurating not merely a ducal but potentially a ‘royal’ tradition.5 The ceremony fully realized the wish of the Visconti to celebrate their exequies with every kind of splendour and thereby to display the dukedom’s power. This entailed a coherent and explicit narrative setting out an apotheosis of the power acquired by Milanese conquest. The ordo funeris drawn up by the masters of ceremonies6 sought to ensure the perfect geometry of the cortège, divided into various sections and choreographed around a central point, the ‘corpus capsae’ or coffin, surmounted by a baldacchino featuring ‘gold panels, secured by rings from above the said coffin’ (panni auri, fodratum de armellinis desuper dictam capsam). Enumeration of the insignia et vexilla (‘regalia and banners’) of the Visconti rehearsed their diverse heraldic iconographies and gave special prominence to images of the eagle and the lily, representing the dukedom’s two chief allies, the Emperor and the kingdom of France respectively. The compiler of the ordo takes care to record the grandeur of the cortège. He describes its various sections, the presence of squads of men on horseback ‘carrying arms and regalia and banners’, the thousands and thousands of ordinary citizens dressed in mourning holding flaming torches ‘unum cilostrum pro quolibet’, a numerous company of clergy, servants and family members dressed in mourning, and the courtiers (familiares) of the duchess Caterina Visconti, who was herself probably absent from the procession. As the writer comments, all the participants expressed their emotions with heartfelt sighs, fortiter plorantes et plangentes, adeo quod maxima pietas et maximus plantus ibi aderat (‘loudly weeping and crying out, to the extent that the greatest piety and the greatest grief were there expressed’). The compiler of the account wished also to preserve a complete record of the participants, with their name and rank. He listed the orators and ambassadors who came from many cities and foreign nations to represent the wide international connections of the dukedom, together with the representatives of cities, towns, walled villages, and lordships, in order of importance, making evident popular

 3 Pietro da Castelletto, ‘Epitaphium sepulchri ill. mi domini Iohannis Galeaz ducis Mediolani’, in L. A. Muratori, RIS (Mediolani, 1730), vol. 16, cols 1037–50.  4 Alessandra Malanca, Testi composti per l’incoronazione ducale e per i funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti con l’edizione critica del Sermo e della Genologia di Pietro da Castelletto (Doctoral Thesis, Università di Firenze, 2010–2011); Barbara Pagliari, ‘I Funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti di Pietro cantarino da Siena: novità documentarie e prospettive di ricerca’, paper presented at the conference, L’Antique, les arts, la littérature à la fin du Moyen Âge. Le cas de l’Italie du Nord, CEMEP, 25 March 2011, Lausanne.  5 Francesca Tasso, ‘Il progetto della memoria. Testimonianze documentarie e presenze sul territorio per una ricostruzione dell’attività di committente di Gian Galeazzo Visconti’, Nuova rivista storica, 86 (2002), 129–54; Evelyn Welch, Art and Authority in Renaissance Milan (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995).  6 Ordo qui tentus fuit obsequio et associatione funeris quondam recolende memoriae ill. mi principis … Iohannis Galez Vicecomitis ducis Mediolani, in L. A. Muratori, RIS (Mediolani, 1730), vol. 16, cols 1025–36.

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endorsement of Gian Galeazzo and his subjects’ love for the deceased duke. As the various groupings of ambassadors and diplomats gathered at Milan for the occasion, members of the many branches of the house of Visconti assembled in turn, according to a strict precedence representing prestige and authority. These family members were accorded special notice, as were the courtiers, the prince’s familiares, the counsellors and magistrates, the condottieri and the representatives of the chief families of Milan, Pavia, and other cities and lordships.7 The imperious commands of those in charge of the cortège, mounted on horseback, kept strict order in the vicinity of the coffin ensuring that the various groups of people dressed in mourning were appropriately managed to give the cortège ample breathing room. The different phases of the complex ceremony lasted a full 14 hours. At length, the empty coffin, covered in rich fabrics, was carried inside the Duomo and placed at a high level between two pillars. In the nineteenth century, the body — finally buried in Pavia — was exhumed and further details of the clothing and the funeral possessions of the deceased were revealed, including a prayer book in the duke’s hands, signifying the devotion of a Christian prince.8 Staged as a grand celebration of the greatness of the Visconti dukedom, or quasi-kingdom, and in a total break with the seigneurial family’s preceding funeral customs,9 the ceremony took place when the Lombard state authorities were already showing signs of imminent decline. The traditional conveyance of the corpse from Viboldone to Pavia, in homage to the last wishes of Gian Galeazzo, turned out to be a problem because of the difficult political and military circumstances of a fragmented state, a prey to civil conflict and war. According to chronicle histories of the time, transfer of the remains to Pavia took place between 1404 and 1406, in a context of political disarray and military conflict, including danger to the corpse of being treated irreverently or stolen by enemies during the journey.10 The first stop was the Augustinian church of San Pietro in Ciel d’Oro, the church which held the mortal remains of Saint Augustine and those of Gian Galeazzo’s father, Galeazzo II, of his sister Violante, and of a little daughter who died in infancy, not to mention various notabilities and

 7 For a comparison with the funeral ceremonies of Francesco il Vecchio da Carrara of 1393 see Antonio Rigon, ‘Echo la bona memoria dil signor. I funerali carraresi nella cronachistica’, in P. Marini, E. Napione and G. M. Varanini (eds), Cangrande della scala. La morte e il corredo di un principe nel medio­evo europeo (Venice: Marsilio, 2004), pp. 193–99. Federico Del Tredici, ‘I due corpi del duca. Modelli monarchici, fazioni e passioni nei funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti’, Società e storia, 41 (2018), 315–342.  8 Angelo Cerri, ‘Gian Galeazzo Visconti e i frammenti di un suo libro devozionale: considerazioni storico-psicologiche’, Bollettino della società pavese di storia patria, 84 (1984), 159–254.  9 Stefania Buganza, ‘I Visconti e l’aristocrazia milanese tra Tre e primo Quattrocento: gli spazi sacri’, in F. Del Tredici and E. Rossetti (eds), Famiglie e spazi sacri nella Lombardia del Rinascimento (Milano: Scalpendi, 2015), pp. 129–168.  10 Romano, ‘Di una nuova ipotesi’, 276–77; on the theft of the body of Alfonso il Magnanimo, see Giuliana Vitale, ‘Pratiche funerarie nella Napoli aragonese’, in Francesco Salvestrini, Gian Maria Varanini and Anna Zangarini (eds), La morte e i suoi riti in Italia tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Florence: University Press, 2007), pp. 377–440.

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dignitaries of the ducal court — a well-protected location within the huge ducal stronghold next to the Visconti castle. It was not possible at that turbulent time to respect Gian Galeazzo’s wishes to be buried in the Certosa di Pavia, which he founded, because construction works at the monastery, and the abbey church, had scarcely begun. The decision in 1394 to found the Certosa di Pavia, and to make it the dynastic burial place, was inspired by the example of monarchies and great European princedoms, especially those of France and Burgundy. Gian Galeazzo had specified that his own corpse and those of his first and second wives — Isabella, sister of Charles V, king of France, and Caterina di Bernabò Visconti — and their natural and legitimate children, should be buried there. He had set aside huge tracts of land for the construction of the building, located in the magnificent park of the ducal castle built by Galeazzo II, and provided other valuable grants towards the maintenance of the friars.11 The history of Pavia, the ancient capital of Lombard reign, made it an ideal location for a dynastic project and for the ambitious scheme of going beyond the scope of a ducal title.12 A short time before he died, according to Bernardino Corio, Gian Galeazzo had ‘prepared the regal context for being crowned king of Italy’.13 The pomp of his funeral and burial marked a departure from the wishes of his predecessors, the signori of Milan, who were not yet princes of the empire. Archbishops Ottone and Giovanni had been buried in the principal church of Milan, the Duomo, which at the end of the thirteenth century was undergoing rebuilding. The other Visconti, honoured by the imperial hierarchy and strengthened with popular acclaim, had preferred to select for their burial places one of the ‘palatine’ churches: for Azzone, San Gottardo ‘in court’ (see Figure 6.1) — for Luchino also perhaps, who according to other accounts found his burial place in a church on the outskirts of Milan — and for Bernabò, San Giovanni in Conca, the church of his magnificent palazzo, where an outrageous equestrian monument was located representing a kind of ‘golden idol’ [see Plate VI].14 The church in Pavia of Saint Agustine-Saint Peter in Ciel d’Oro held the remains of Gian Galeazzo’s father, who however made it possible (somewhat against the

 11 M. Grazia Albertini Ottolenghi, ‘La Certosa di Pavia’, in Storia di Pavia, III/III, L’arte dell’XI al XVI secolo (Milan: Banca del Monte di Lombardia, 1996), pp. 579–670.  12 Aldo A. Settia, ‘Il sogno regio dei Visconti, Pavia e la Certosa’, Annali di Storia Pavese, 25 (1997), 13–15; Piero Majocchi, Pavia città regia. Storia e memoria di una capitale altomedievale (Rome: Viella, 2008); Jane Black, Absolutism in Renaissance Milan: Plenitude of Power under the Visconti and the Sforza 1329–1535 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Federica Cengarle, Immagine di potere e prassi di governo. La politica feudale di Filippo Maria Visconti (Rome: Viella, 2006); Andrea Gamberini, Lo stato visconteo. Linguaggi politici e dinamiche costituzionali (Milan: F. Angeli, 2005).  13 Corio, Storia di Milano, p. 968.  14 Graziano A. Vergani, L’Arca di Bernabò Visconti al Castello Sforzesco di Milano (Milan: Credito artigiano, 2001); Massimo Della Misericordia, ‘Altari dei morti. Spazio sacro, sepolture e celebra­ zione degli edificatori fra basso medioevo e prima età moderna (a partire da chiese alpine)’, in Del Tredici and Rossetti (eds), Famiglie e spazi sacri nella Lombardia del Rinascimento (Milan: Scalpendi, 2015), pp. 345–411; Buganza, ‘I Visconti e l’aristocrazia milanese tra’, in Tredici and Rossetti, Famiglie e spazi sacri (in press).

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Figure 6.1. Giovanni di Balduccio, funeral monument for Azzone Visconti (after 1337), Milan, Chiesa di San Gottardo in Corte.

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builders’ wishes) to have his remains taken back to Milan and deposited in the Duomo, in accordance with the dynastic project which was being devised.15 From many points of view, the final wishes of the first duke of Milan in regard to his exequies and the treatment of his corpse drew inspiration from the practices and funeral customs of the princes and monarchs of France and Burgundy.16 The links with monarchies and princedoms beyond the Alps, strengthened by the marriages of Gian Galeazzo with Isabella of France and of Valentina Visconti with Louis of Touraine, were further reinforced by frequent journeys by Milanese ambassadors to France, who no doubt informed the duke of the magnificence of the royal burial places of Saint-Denis and of foundations such as the Chartreuse of Champmol, the burial place chosen by the dukes of Burgundy.17 The scheme of dispersing the burial places of the dukes in various sacred locations, as set out in their wills, was also modelled on these precedents.18 The corpse of the first duke of Milan remained for a long period in the Augustinian church at Pavia until, in 1474, it was solemnly removed for the last and final time to the abbey church of the Certosa di Pavia. This very solemn and elaborate last funeral took place on 1 March 1474. The casket with the corpse of the deceased, draped with a beautiful fabric and surrounded by the arms of all the cities of the dukedom, was surmounted by a baldacchino carried by prelates, learned men, gentlemen, and citizens. All components of the city marched in the procession — the observant and mendicant friars, the clergy, the canons, the abbots and monks carrying crosses, the professors and students of the city’s Studium, the officers and leading figures of the great Council, the jurists, the gentlemen and principal citizens, and the artisans with the badges of their guilds. After the celebrations, the divine offices, and the sermon, the corpse of the deceased was carried by two groups of 16 persons in turn, dressed in cloaks ‘dark as death’, while 200 others clad in cloaks of grey fabric carried an equal number of flaming torches to light the scene. The huge and sumptuous funeral procession stretched from the largest church in Pavia, across the area known as the Drapers’ Quarter, the Piazza Grande, the Strada Nuova, into the duke’s great park and after that took a lengthy detour to the church of the Certosa, where the most important guests stayed for a grand banquet — we know the details of all this from a letter of ducal instruction of 1 March 1474, which described the huge participation of the common people, a sign of their love for the dynasty.19  15 Tasso, ‘Il progetto della memoria’, pp. 129–54.  16 Tasso, ‘Il progetto della memoria’, pp. 129–54; Luisa Giordano, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti Antonii Viennensis. Gian Galeazzo Visconti e la dinastia ducale a Saint-Antoine di Vienne’, Artes, 7 (1999), 5–24 (9–15).  17 Giordano, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti’, 9–15; Albertini Ottolenghi, ‘La Certosa di Pavia’, p. 580; Tasso, ‘Il progetto della memoria’, 148–49.  18 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres: La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005), p. 24; Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘Le cœur couronné. Tombeaux et funérailles de cœur en France à la fin du Moyen Âge’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 241–65; Giovanni Ricci, Il principe e la morte: corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998).  19 Carlo Magenta, I Visconti e gli Sforza nel castello di Pavia e loro attinenze con la Certosa e la storia cittadina, 2 vols (Milan: U. Hoepli, 1883), vol. 2, pp. 360–61, note 372; Annibale Zambarbieri, ‘La vita

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The first duke of Milan was finally buried in the abbey church of the Certosa with his burial place further embellished by monuments commissioned by Lodovico il Moro at the end of the fifteenth century. So Gian Galeazzo had a ‘long’ funeral lasting more than 70 years, with complex events which got in the way both of establishing an enduring ceremonial tradition and of inaugurating dynastic and ducal funeral procedures which could then be imitated and repeated by his successors. The Certosa di Pavia did not therefore become a small Lombard Saint-Denis. Nevertheless, the exequies of 1402 were a unique event, carefully planned and staged according to solemn and lavish ceremonial protocols adapted to a new ducal status, and in a complete break with the traditions of a citizen seigniory. This was a spectacular reflection of the status the dukedom had achieved thanks to conquest and to political events, prelude to the transformation of the dukedom into a monarchy, with an outward appearance reminiscent of transalpine monarchies as its model. Similarly, testamentary dispositions relative to the treatment of the corpse were based on practices in use in the royal courts of Europe. Gian Galeazzo Visconti set down that his mortal remains should be buried in two, or perhaps three, places dear to him in deference to his ‘wish to spread his territorial influence in the absence of political and military control’,20 but also, as a slightly earlier episode shows, as a means of expressing his devotion to certain sacred places and a personal sensitivity to the treatment of the bodies of the deceased. In 1393, he had honoured the remains of Francesco il Vecchio da Carrara, signore of Padua, who died while a prisoner in the ghastly prisons of the Forni in Monza.21 This had entailed the arrangement of a solemn funeral with much provision ‘of wax and horses’, with the corpse of the deceased clothed in rich garments and with precious objects, the spoils of war, placed in the coffin. These attentions were greatly appreciated by the Paduans, who thought of them as a kind of compensation for the mistreatment inflicted on the old Paduan signore.22 Special sensitivity towards honouring the corpse of the deceased also inspired the duke’s last wishes for his own burial. There are, however, unclear points about Gian Galeazzo’s real wishes as testator. In the middle of the fifteenth century his testamentary provisions were obscured by the Sforza, who feared that certain clauses could be read as confirming the hereditary claims of the dukes of Orléans, heirs of Valentina Visconti.23 The first will of 1388, now lost, was probably more favourable to the French; that of

religiosa’, in Storia di Pavia, III/I, Dal libero Comune alla fine del Principato indipendente (1024–1535) (Milan: Banca del Monte di Lombardia, 1992), pp. 263–358 (p. 344).  20 Ricci, Il principe e la morte, p. 90.  21 Rigon, ‘Echo la bona memoria del signor’, in Marini, Napione and Varanini (eds), Cangrande della scala, pp. 193–99.  22 Bartolomeo Galeazzo and Andrea Gatari, ‘Cronaca carrarese’, ed. by Antonio Medin and Guido Tolomei, in RIS 2, 17, 1 (Città di Castello, 1931), pp. 441–42. All’apertura della bara Francesco Novello apprezzò quanto il Visconti aveva fatto fare a Milano: ‘era dal corpo trato ogni viserra e tutto balsimado, per che il signor ebe ancora più caro’.  23 Magenta, I Visconti e gli Sforza, vol. 1, p. 204; Giordano, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti Antonii Viennensis’, 7–33.

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1397, the only one known with its text complete,24 laid down the burial of the corpse ‘and the heart’ in the Certosa di Pavia, and of the viscera in the abbey of Saint Antony of Vienne in the Dauphiné, a place sacred to Gian Galeazzo even before he donated a precious reliquary to the Certosa and where he had founded and endowed a richly ornamented chapel. It has been pointed out that these practices were in imitation of the French. When he became king, Charles V, a brother-in-law of Gian Galeazzo, founded an altar and commissioned precious dynastic and celebratory works of art for the abbey church.25 Before he died he had chosen Saint-Denis for the burial of his corpse, Rouen for his heart, and the abbey of Maubuisson for his viscera. According to an epitaph displayed in Milan cathedral, Gian Galeazzo too had resolved to divide his remains between not only two but three separate burial places, including provision for a ‘tomb of the heart’ in the church of San Michele in Pavia. Plans were similar for the abbey of Viboldone in the days immediately following Gian Galeazzo’s death, when his corpse was embalmed. But even up to the time of the final burial in the church of the Certosa in Pavia the anticipated dispersed burials had not been effected: the viscera never arrived at Vienne, nor had anyone any knowledge of a ‘tomb of the heart’ at Pavia.26 Other Funerals of the Fifteenth Century The funeral ceremonies of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, in particular the first, were characterized by sumptuousness and princely ambition, by the participation of huge numbers of guests and public, by celebration of the achievements of the deceased and the power of the dukedom, and by imitation of regal pomp with regard to corpse and burial. Nevertheless, these features were not repeated and imitated in the exequies of other fifteenth-century dukes of Milan, who were always honoured with little splendour and with an absence of ceremonial grandeur, even in some cases in a hasty and off-hand fashion. No notable innovations were reported nor were any burial places suited to becoming seats of dynastic memory created. Accounts of exequies are often lacking or marked by lacunae. The underlying reason for this low-level ceremonial observance was a matter of politics: the passing of the various dukes of Milan was always accompanied by grave anxieties over law and order, and by fear that disorders and tumults would put in peril dynastic succession and the political security of the state. Also from this perspective signs of institutional fragility erupted

 24 Documenti diplomatici tratti dagli archive milanesi, ed. by Luigi Osio, 3 vols (Milan: tipogr. Giuseppe Bernardoni, 1864), vol. 1, pp. 318–38, note 323; original in the Archivio di Stato di Milano, Sforzesco 18, fasc. 5, atti del notaio Giovanni Oliari; collected in Corio, Storia di Milano, pp. 968–70.  25 Giordano, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti Antonii Viennensis’, 7–33.  26 Giordano, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti Antonii Viennensis’, p. 5. For the heart burials, see Gaude-Ferragu, ‘Le cœur couronné’, passim.

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which often rendered difficult the exercise of ducal authority in renaissance Lombardy.27 In 1412, the corpse of the second duke of Milan, Giovanni Maria, assassinated by conspirators after a brief, despotic, and cruel regime, received a hasty burial in a marble tomb close to the altar in the palatine church of San Gottardo in Corte.28 Bernardino Corio tells us that a single prostitute paid pious homage to the hated duke, tossing roses on the mutilated corpse.29 The exequies of the third duke, Filippo Maria Visconti in August 1447 were also hasty and disputed.30 There was no pompous ceremonial, both because of the haste imposed by the summer season and the corpulence of the body, and because the members of the cubiculum were seeking to keep the death hidden in order, by further delaying public exequies, to seize the duke’s wealth stored in the castle. At length, Filippo Maria’s corpse was carried outside the castle and taken to the Duomo, where an empty coffin was positioned in the choir, in an elevated position between two pillars. Milan was in uproar, with insurgents already dismantling the ducal castle stone by stone — these were no conditions in which to organize solemn funeral celebrations. In the absence of legitimate male heirs, the succession was contested and, in the presence of various claimants, the Milanese elite proclaimed the Ambrosian Republic. After three years, in 1450, the condottiere Francesco Sforza da Cotignola conquered the ducal lands by virtue of force of arms and thanks to marriage with Bianca Maria Visconti. In March 1466, his funeral did not lack solemnity, but was again celebrated in the context of political unrest which prevented the staging of splendid exequies. The duke, ill for some time, was attending as usual to state affairs when death struck. The duchess ruled the state in the absence abroad of her eldest son, the rightful heir, who should have returned from France but had been intercepted and detained in Piedmont by a dangerous plot. The funeral ceremonies were celebrated in Milan and the coffin containing the duke’s corpse, dressed in rich garments and wearing the ducal insignia — the sword which stood for his victories in battle and the sceptre in his right hand — was carried to the Duomo in the evening and placed in the middle of the church in the presence of a large crowd, while those scholars closest to the ducal court recited memorial texts.31 This brief resumé is all that has come down to us about the ceremony — surviving correspondence of March 1466 does not provide useful

 27 Giorgio Chittolini, ‘La crisi dello stato milanese alla fine del Quattrocento’, in Giorgio Chittolini (ed.), Città, comunità e feudi negli stati dell’Italia centro-settentrionale (Milan: UNICOPLI, 1996), pp. 167–80.  28 Giulio C. Zimolo, ‘Il ducato di Giovanni Maria Visconti’, in Scritti storici e giuridici in memoria di Alessandro Visconti (Milan: Istituto editoriale Cisalpino, 1955), pp. 438–39.  29 Corio, Storia di Milano, p. 1028.  30 For ‘Tumultuario funere’, see Pier Candido Decembrio, ‘Vita Philippi Mariae tertii ligurum ducis’, in Opuscula historica, ed. by F. Fossati et al., in RIS 2, 20, 1 (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1925–1958), p. 434.  31 Giovanni Simonetta, Rerum gestarum Francisci Sfortiae commentarii, a cura di Giovanni Soranzo, in RIS 2, 21, 2 (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1932), p. 7.

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information32 and state papers concern themselves with other matters, dealing in agitated and dramatic terms with measures taken to protect the territory of the state, organization of the defence of the city, the obtaining of support from allied powers, putting down uprisings and dealing with noble dissidents, and meeting requests for financial relief and special privileges for parts of the city and state lands. The biographer Giovanni Simonetta places emphasis on a moving detail: the duchess Bianca Maria Visconti detained Sforza’s corpse for a long period in the ducal apartments, until on the insistence of the courtiers she agreed to a hasty funeral without pomp. Ten years later, on 26 December 1476, the young duke Galeazzo Maria Sforza was assassinated in the church of Santo Stefano in Milan by a group of conspirators belonging to his court circle. The fear of a larger dissidence led to the celebration, yet once more, of a hasty funeral without ceremonial pomp. The burial, in line with precedent, took place in the Duomo, set as before high up between two pillars, perhaps to keep the dukes’ tombs clear of profanation and outrage. The young duke, Gian Galeazzo Maria Sforza died on 21 October 1494 in Pavia, possibly of poison. His paternal uncle, Ludovico il Moro, was already de facto lord of the dukedom and for some months had enjoyed the imperial privileges secretly obtained from the Habsburg Emperor Maximilian. In this case too, the exequies were celebrated with solemnity but with little ceremonial observance. Dispatches of the Gonzaga ambassadors indicate that the prince’s corpse was taken to Milan and accompanied to the city gates; after a pause a cortège was formed composed of counsellors, courtiers, and gentlemen. On entering Milan, the deceased was placed in the Duomo, before the high altar, on a pallium of cloth-of-gold ‘in a sufficiently eminent position’. The corpse, displayed for some days so that it could be seen ‘by everybody’, was clothed with a turca of white damask fringed with ermine, an ermine collar, a brocade cloak (zipone) of white gold, his ducal cap of gold damask and his sceptre. Many grieved at the death of this young Sforza, who, setting aside his lack of political experience, embodied the legitimate succession, which had been usurped by his uncle Ludovico il Moro.33 There were no further exequies; the coffin was suspended in the Duomo close to those, for the most part empty, of Gian Galeazzo Maria’s predecessors. In the interval, Ludovico Maria Sforza had assumed power and was proclaimed duke. While Gian Galeazzo Maria’s corpse was still on display in the Duomo the bells of Sant’Ambrosio rang for festival, an occurrence that the historian Bernardino Corio considered a lack of respect for the deceased.34 Once again, political considerations had prevented a solemn celebration or one worthy of remembrance. In reality, the young Sforza, however much he was loved and pitied by the Milanese people, was a duke deposed.

 32 Archivio di Stato di Milano, Registri Missive, nn. 70, 72, 74, 75; Sforzesco, 532, 425, 845, 823, 861, 878; Archivio di Stato di Modena, Ambasciatori, busta 1; Carteggio degli oratori mantovani VII; Ticino ducale 1999.  33 Carteggio degli oratori mantovani, vol. 14, ed. by Marzia de Luca (in preparation), letter 22 October 1494.  34 Corio, Storia di Milano, pp. 1563–64.

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Conclusion In conclusion, chronicles and other documents have little to say about the funeral ceremonies of the princes of the fifteenth century, which were characteristically hasty and dominated by a fear of disorder and uprising. From many indications one has the impression that at Milan, as elsewhere, interest in funeral solemnities had diminished. At the end of the fourteenth century, when Gian Galeazzo Visconti made arrangements, in imitation of the prestigious monarchical traditions of France, for his own funeral and the dispersal of his burial places, ultramontane kings and princes had already given up eye-catching practices and chosen instead less showy arrangements, in the service of a more humble spirituality and forms of devotion less ostentatious.35 The consorts of the Visconti in the fourteenth century had anticipated these circumstances. Bianca of Savoy and Isabella of France chose to be buried in the convents of the mendicant orders in Pavia, shunning grandeur and preferring sober and modest customs (Figure 6.2). The biography of Duke Filippo Maria Visconti tells us that in his last months he had expressed a wish for burial in the Carmelite church close to his castle, in a place where everyone could trample on his tomb.36 Similarly, before his death in 1458, the king of Naples, Alfonso the Magnanimous, chose to be buried in the bare earth of his birthplace, without pomp, as ‘a model of humility’.37 Even Cosimo de’ Medici, the great accumulator of riches and power, preferred in 1464 exequies shorn of splendour.38 The dukes of Savoy in the fifteenth century abandoned magnificent funerals and the practice of multiple burials, and simplified their ceremonies — because of uncertain political circumstances (‘almost invariably, the dukes of Savoy at the end of the fifteenth century met their deaths in a context of disturbances, whether of invasion or civil war’)39 or because, following the geographical expansion of the dukedom towards Piedmont, funerals became something other than a solemn journey to Hautecombe Abbey, and because the physical weaknesses of various members of the sub-alpine dynasty led to a close-packed series of deaths and funerals. In the Sforza era, the disdain for grand funerals continued. The mother of Francesco Sforza, Lucia di Torsano, died in 1461 and the ‘principe nuovo’, for understandable political reasons, ordered the celebration of an especially solemn and honourable funeral. But soon afterwards he put an end to any show of the  35 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 332–35.  36 Decembrio, Opuscula historica, chap. 70, p. 427.  37 Vitale, ‘Pratiche funerarie nella Napoli aragonese’, p. 380.  38 Ivana Ait, ‘I costi della morte’, in Francesco Salvestrini, Gian Maria Varanini and Anna Zangarini (eds), La morte e i suoi riti in Italia tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Florence: University Press, 2007), pp. 275–321 (p. 304).  39 Laurent Ripart and Bernard Andenmatten, ‘Ultimes itinérances. Les sépultures des princes de la Maison de Savoie entre Moyen Âge et Renaissance’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Eva Pibiri and Denis Reynard (eds), L’itinérance des seigneurs (XIVe–XVIe siècles): Actes du colloque international de Lausanne et Romainmôtier, 29 nov.-1° dic. 2001 (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 2003), pp. 193–248 (p. 207); Nadia Pollini, La mort du Prince, rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994).

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Figure 6.2. Giacomo da Campione, funeral monument for Bianca di Savoia (c. 1387), Milan, Museo d’arte antica del Castello sforzesco.

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sadness which was not to his liking (‘because he had no taste for displays of melancholy’).40 His son, Galeazzo Maria, abandoned the grand procession staged in 1474 for the shift to Pavia of the mortal remains of the first duke of Milan, preferring to go hunting with his courtiers at a castle in Novara.41 Courtly pleasures took precedence over an event memorable, even so, for magnificence and solemnity, which might have offered an opportunity for dynastic glorification and an occasion for strengthening the ‘memory project’ initiated by Gian Galeazzo. Celebration of the dynasty was entrusted, rather, to other ceremonial occasions, and other types of ritual. Great coronation ceremonials, such as the especially splendid one Figure 6.3. Cristoforo Solari, funeral monuments for Ludovico Maria Sforza and Beatrice d’Este (Certosa di Pavia, 1497), for Alfonso II of Naples in Milan, Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Grazie. 1494,42 were not within the grasp of the Sforza, who had not obtained imperial recognition and a royal title. Galeazzo Maria, however, organized great festivals on an annual basis, in particular the magnificent military parade in April dedicated to Saint George, and the courtly festivals ‘del Ciocco’ at Christmas, in which a gathering of nobles, feudal lords and local notabilities, ambassadors and foreign guests sought to imitate the splendour of festivals they had seen in ultramontane courts.43 Ambassadorial receptions, courtly festivals, banquets and celebrations

 40 Maria Nadia Covini, ‘Feste e cerimonie milanesi tra città e corte. Appunti dai carteggi mantovani’, Ludica: annali di storia e civiltà del gioco, 7 (2001), 122–50 (134).  41 Magenta, I Visconti e gli Sforza, II, document n. 373, pp. 361–62.  42 Johannis Burckardi, ‘“Liber notarum”, a cura di Enrico Celani’, in RIS 2, 32, 1 (Città di Castello, 1906), pp. 506–16.  43 Welch, Art and Authority in Renaissance Milan, pp. 203–18; Maria Nadia Covini, L’esercito del duca. Organizzazione militare e istituzioni al tempo degli Sforza (1450–1480) (Rome: Istituto storico per il Medioevo, 1998), pp. 318–26; Luisa Giordano, ‘L’autolegittimazione di una dinastia: gli Sforza e

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staged at great cost and with newly devised rituals, became ever more splendid from the beginning of the Sforza era to the time of Ludovico Maria.44 Ludovico ‘il Moro’, who became duke in 1494 with imperial sanction on the death of his nephew, fired by a lofty sense of his own importance, was able to pay attention to a renewed interest in dynastic funeral practices. In the same year, the exequies of Ferdinando of Aragon were celebrated in Naples with a magnificence that was already ‘sixteenth-century’.45 In his political will, Ludovico directed that his own funeral should be staged with great splendour, with his corpse clothed in the garments of, and wearing the ducal insignia used in, his coronation ceremonies ‘which stood for the assumption of the dukedom’.46 Moreover, il Moro assigned dynastic burials to the Observant Dominican church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, recently founded in Milan in the vicinity of the castle at Porta Giovia, in a citizen quarter completely restored and inhabited by the more loyal of his courtiers — in 1497 his consort Beatrice d’Este buried together with two natural sons of Ludovico who had died at a young age (Figure 6.3). These ambitious projects, crowned by important artistic manifestations to which artists such as Leonardo and Bramante47 contributed, were not successfully realized. The Sforza dynasty entered a difficult period, started out on adventurous policies, was derailed by financial collapse and at length, after the military expedition of Charles VIII of France, entered the maelstrom of the Italian wars. Forced to take flight, the last Sforza died a prisoner of the French king in the castle of Loches in 1508.

 44  45  46  47

la politica dell’immagine’, Artes, I (1993), 7–33; Gregory Lubkin, A Renaissance Court: Milan under Galeazzo Maria Sforza (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994). Covini, ‘Feste e cerimonie milanesi tra città e corte’, 122–50. Vitale, ‘Pratiche funerarie nella Napoli aragonese’, pp. 384–85, 393–94, 401–22. Cited in Giordano, ‘L’autolegittimazione di una dinastia’, 9. Francesco Malaguzzi Valeri, La corte di Ludovico il Moro, I: La vita privata e l’arte a Milano nella seconda meta del Quattrocento; II, Bramante e Leonardo da Vinci; III, Gli artisti lombardi (Milan: U. Hoepli, 1915–1929; 2nd edn, Nendeln, 1970); Alessandro Ballarin, Leonardo a Milano. Problemi di leonardismo milanese tra Quattrocento e Cinquecento. Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio prima della pala Casio, in collaboration with M. Menegatti and B. M. Savy, 4 vols (Verona: Edizioni dell’Aurora, 2010); Giovanni Romano, Rinascimento in Lombardia. Foppa, Zenale, Leonardo, Bramantino (Milan: Feltrinelli, 2011). On the quartiere ludoviciano see E. Rossetti, La città cancellata. Residenze aristocratiche, spazi urbani e interventi principeschi nella Milano di Ludovico Maria Sforza (1480–1499) (in press); Buganza, ‘I Visconti e l’aristocrazia milanese’, pp. 128–68.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Archivio di Stato di Milano, Registri Missive, nn. 70, 72, 74, 75 —— , Sforzesco, 532, 425, 845, 823, 861, 878 Archivio di Stato di Modena, Ambasciatori, busta 1 Early Printed Books

Billia, Andrea, ‘Mediolanensium rerum historia’, in L. A. Muratori, Rerum italicarum scriptores, 28 vols (Mediolani, 1731), vol. 19 Castelletto, Pietro da, ‘Epitaphium sepulchri ill. mi domini Iohannis Galeaz ducis Mediolani’, in L. A. Muratori, RIS (Mediolani, 1730), vol. 16, cols 1037–50 Ordo qui tentus fuit obsequio et associatione funeris quondam recolende memoriae ill. mi principis … Iohannis Galeaz Vicecomitis ducis Mediolani, in L. A. Muratori, RIS (Mediolani, 1730), vol. 16, cols 1025–36. Primary Sources

Carteggio degli oratori mantovani alla corte sforzesca (1450–1499), vol. 7 (1466–1467), ed. by Maria Nadia Covini (Rome: Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Ufficio centrale per i beni archivistici, 1999) Carteggio degli oratori mantovani alla corte sforzesca, vol. 14, ed. by Marzia de Luca (in preparation) Documenti diplomatici tratti dagli archivi milanesi, ed. by Luigi Osio, 3 vols (Milan: tipogr. Giuseppe Bernardoni, 1864), vol. 1 Ticino ducale. Il carteggio e gli atti ufficiali, 2, 1, ed. by Giuseppe Chiesi (Bellinzona: Ed. della Stato del Cantone Ticino, 1999) Secondary Sources

Ait, Ivana, ‘I costi della morte’, in Francesco Salvestrini, Gian Maria Varanini and Anna Zangarini (eds), La morte e i suoi riti in Italia tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Florence: University Press, 2007), pp. 275–321 Albertini Ottolenghi, M. Grazia, ‘La Certosa di Pavia’, in Storia di Pavia, III/III, L’arte dell’XI al XVI secolo (Milan: Banca del Monte di Lombardia, 1996), pp. 579–670 Ballarin, Alessandro, Leonardo a Milano. Problemi di leonardismo milanese tra Quattrocento e Cinquecento. Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio prima della pala Casio, in collaboration with M. Menegatti and B. M. Savy, 4 vols (Verona: Edizioni dell’Aurora, 2010) Black, Jane, Absolutism in Renaissance Milan: Plenitude of Power under the Visconti and the Sforza 1329–1535 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009) Buganza, Stefania, ‘I Visconti e l’aristocrazia milanese tra Tre e primo Quattrocento: gli spazi sacri’, in F. Del Tredici and E. Rossetti (eds), Famiglie e spazi sacri nella Lombardia del Rinascimento (Milano: Scalpendi, 2015), pp. 129–168.

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Burckardi, Johannis, ‘“Liber notarum”, a cura di Enrico Celani’, in Rerum italicarum scriptores 2, 32, 1 (Città di Castello: S. Lapi, 1906) Cengarle, Federica, Immagine di potere e prassi di governo. La politica feudale di Filippo Maria Visconti (Rome: Viella, 2006) Cerri, Angelo, ‘Gian Galeazzo Visconti e i frammenti di un suo libro devozionale: considerazioni storico-psicologiche’, Bollettino della società pavese di storia patria, 84 (1984), 159–254 Chittolini, Giorgio, ‘La crisi dello stato milanese alla fine del Quattrocento’, in Chittolini (ed.), Città, comunità e feudi negli stati dell’Italia centro-settentrionale (Milan: UNICOPLI, 1996), pp. 167–80 Corio, Bernardino, Storia di Milano, ed. by A. Morisi Guerra (Turin: Unione tip. ed. torinese, 1978) Covini, Maria Nadia, L’esercito del duca. Organizzazione militare e istituzioni al tempo degli Sforza (1450–1480) (Rome: Istituto storico per il Medioevo, 1998) —— , ‘Feste e cerimonie milanesi tra città e corte. Appunti dai carteggi mantovani’, Ludica: annali di storia e civiltà del gioco, 7 (2001), 122–50 Decembrio, Pier Candido, ‘Vita Philippi Mariae tertii ligurum ducis’, in Opuscula historica, ed. by F. Fossati et al., in Rerum italicarum scriptores 2, 20, 1 (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1925–1958) Del Tredici, Federico, ‘I due corpi del duca. Modelli monarchici, fazioni e passioni nei funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti’, Società e storia, 41 (2018), 315–342 Della Misericordia, Massimo, ‘Altari dei morti. Spazio sacro, sepolture e celebrazione degli edificatori fra basso medioevo e prima età moderna (a partire da chiese alpine)’, in F. Del Tredici and E. Rossetti (eds), Famiglie e spazi sacri nella Lombardia del Rinascimento Milan: Scalpendi, 2015), 345–411 Galeazzo, Bartolomeo and Andrea Gatari, ‘Cronaca carrarese’, ed. by Antonio Medin and Guido Tolomei, in Rerum italicarum scriptores 2, 17, 1 (Città di Castello: S. Lupi, 1931) Gamberini, Andrea, Lo stato visconteo. Linguaggi politici e dinamiche costituzionali (Milan: F. Angeli, 2005) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, ‘Le cœur couronné. Tombeaux et funérailles de cœur en France à la fin du Moyen Age’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 241–65 —— , D’or et de cendres: La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) Giordano, Luisa, ‘Ad ecclesiam sancti Antonii Viennensis. Gian Galeazzo Visconti e la dinastia ducale a Saint-Antoine di Vienne’, Artes, 7 (1999), 5–24 Giordano, Luisa, ‘L’autolegittimazione di una dinastia: gli Sforza e la politica dell’immagine’, Artes, 1 (1993), 7–33 Lubkin, Gregory, A Renaissance Court: Milan under Galeazzo Maria Sforza (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994) Magenta, Carlo, I Visconti e gli Sforza nel castello di Pavia e loro attinenze con la Certosa e la storia cittadina, 2 vols (Milan: U. Hoepli, 1883) Majocchi, Piero, Pavia città regia. Storia e memoria di una capitale altomedievale (Rome: Viella, 2008) Malaguzzi Valeri, Francesco, La corte di Ludovico il Moro, I: La vita privata e l’arte a Milano nella seconda meta del Quattrocento; II, Bramante e Leonardo da Vinci; III, Gli artisti lombardi (Milan: U. Hoepli, 1915–1929; 2nd edition, Nendeln, 1970)

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Malanca, Alessandra, Testi composti per l’incoronazione ducale e per i funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti con l’edizione critica del Sermo e della Genologia di Pietro da Castelletto (Doctoral Thesis, University of Florence, 2010–2011) Pagliari, Barbara, ‘I Funerali di Gian Galeazzo Visconti di Pietro cantarino da Siena: novità documentarie e prospettive di ricerca’, paper presented at the conference, L’Antique, les arts, la littérature à la fin du Moyen Âge. Le cas de l’Italie du Nord, CEMEP, 25 March 2011, Lausanne Pollini, Nadia, La mort du Prince, rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: University of Lausanne, 1994) Ricci, Giovanni, Il principe e la morte: corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998) Rigon, Antonio, ‘Echo la bona memoria del signor. I funerali carraresi nella cronachistica’, in P. Marini, E. Napione and G. M. Varanini (eds), Cangrande della Scala. La morte e il corredo di un principe nel medioevo europeo (Venice: Marsilio, 2004), pp. 193–99 Ripart, Laurent and Bernard Andenmatten, ‘Ultimes itinérances. Les sépultures des princes de la Maison de Savoie entre Moyen Âge et Renaissance’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Eva Pibiri and Denis Reynard (eds), L’itinérance des seigneurs (XIVe–XVIe siècles): Actes du colloque international de Lausanne et Romainmôtier, 29 nov.–1° dic. 2001 (Lausanne: University of Lausanne, 2003), pp. 193–248 Romano, Giacinto, ‘Di una nuova ipotesi sulla morte e sulla sepoltura di Giangaleazzo Visconti’, Archivio storico italiano, ser. V, 20 (1897), 247–85 Romano, Giovanni, Rinascimento in Lombardia. Foppa, Zenale, Leonardo, Bramantino (Milan: Feltrinelli, 2011) Rossetti, E., La città cancellata. Residenze aristocratiche, spazi urbani e interventi principeschi nella Milano di Ludovico Maria Sforza (1480–1499) (in press) Settia, Aldo A., ‘Il sogno regio dei Visconti, Pavia e la Certosa’, Annali di Storia Pavese, 25 (1997), 13–15 Simonetta, Giovanni, Rerum gestarum Francisci Sfortiae commentarii, ed. by Giovanni Soranzo, in Rerum italicarum scriptores 2, 21, 2 (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1932) Tasso, Francesca, ‘Il progetto della memoria. Testimonianze documentarie e presenze sul territorio per una ricostruzione dell’attività di committente di Gian Galeazzo Visconti’, Nuova rivista storica, 86 (2002), 129–54 Vergani, Graziano A., L’Arca di Bernabò Visconti al Castello Sforzesco di Milano (Milan: Credito artigiano, 2001) Vitale, Giuliana, ‘Pratiche funerarie nella Napoli aragonese’, in Francesco Salvestrini, Gian Maria Varanini and Anna Zangarini (eds), La morte e i suoi riti in Italia tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Florence: University Press, 2007), pp. 377–440 Welch, Evelyn, Art and Authority in Renaissance Milan (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995) Zambarbieri, Annibale, ‘La vita religiosa’, in Storia di Pavia, III/I, Dal libero Comune alla fine del Principato indipendente (1024–1535) (Milan: Banca del Monte di Lombardia, 1992), pp. 263–358 Zimolo, Giulio C., ‘Il ducato di Giovanni Maria Visconti’, in Scritti storici e giuridici in memoria di Alessandro Visconti (Milan: Istituto editoriale Cisalpino, 1955).

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Chapter 7. The Funerals of the Dukes of Savoy in the Fifteenth Century Between Austerity and Splendour Fifteenth-century Savoy was characterized by the powerful influence of Duke Amadeus VIII, whose reign (1391–1439) is considered the dynasty’s golden age, thanks to his roles as mediator during the Hundred Years’ War, as a fine politician who successfully enlarged his States by adding the Genevan lands, Piedmont, and Vercelli to the domain, and as a legislator in the composition of the Statuts de Savoie in 1430. In this context, Amadeus VIII’s funeral should have been grandiose, like the duke himself. Yet it was not, since Amadeus VIII was not interred as the Duke of Savoy but, rather, as a great prelate. Indeed, in 1434 he had retired to the hermitage of Ripaille, near Thonon and, in December 1439, he had been chosen by the Council of Basel to become pope under the name Felix V. However, in 1449 Amadeus VIII renounced the papal tiara and, in 1451, finished his days as Cardinal of Saint Sabina and Bishop of Geneva. It was thus more than 11 years since Amadeus VIII had ceased to be duke and his son Louis reigned in his place. It was, therefore, not until Louis I of Savoy’s death on 29 January 1465 that, for the first time in the fifteenth century, the court had to think about organizing the funeral of its duke. Louis I died in Lyon, en route back to Savoy after having sojourned at the court of his son-in-law, the king of France, Louis XI, and was in all likelihood buried without pomp dressed in Franciscan clothing in the chapel of Our Lady of Bethlehem at the convent of the minor



* The content of this chapter has been published in part as Thalia Brero and Eva Pibiri, ‘Le corps du prince au sein des rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (XIVe–XVIe siècles)’, in Le corps du prince. Micrologus, 22 (2014), 393–427. Eva Pibiri wrote the section on the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries for this article and Thalia Brero wrote the part which treats the sixteenth century. The earldom of Savoy was established as a duchy in 1416 by the King of the Romans, Sigismond of Luxembourg. Amadeus VIII was the first duke of Savoy, see Francesco Cognasso, ‘Amedeo VIII, duca di Savoia’, in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani (henceforth DBI), 100 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2020), vol. 2 (1960), pp. 749–53. On Amadeus VIII, see Bernard Andenmatten and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (eds), with the collaboration of Nadia Pollini, Amédée VIII-Félix V premier duc de Savoie et pape (1383–1451) (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1997). Eva Pibiri is Maître d’enseignement et de recherche in Medieval History at the University of Lausanne. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 141–153  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120756

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friars of Geneva, which he had founded with his wife, Anne of Cyprus, in 1457.1 Louis’s heart was buried in the church of the Celestines in Lyon, founded by his ancestor, Amadeus VII.2 The rare accounts which have been located indicate only that a black livery was given to the household members who accompanied the duke during his voyage; that the coffin was placed on a litter covered with a black velvet cloth ornamented with a white cross to be transported to Geneva, and that 134 gowns were fashioned for the poor, so that they could pray for the soul of the deceased.3 Without a doubt, the apparent simplicity emphasized in the duke’s funeral expenses can be linked to the personal devotion he dedicated to Franciscan rite,4 which likely caused him to refuse ‘funerary pomp’, as had certain French princes since the end of the fourteenth century.5

The Return of Spectacular Ceremonies In contrast to the sobriety of Duke Louis I’s 1465 funeral, the ceremony organized for Amadeus IX offered a mise-en-scène that was both spectacular and complex. Amadeus IX died of illness at the age of 37, in the castle of Vercelli, on 30 March 1472. After a brief, one-day exposure, the body was interred in the cathedral of Saint Eusebius of Vercelli, not far from the place of his death. The very short lapse in time between the duke’s death and burial is easily explained by the anguished political situation faced by his wife, the duchess Yolande of France. Her husband had died intestate and her son, Philibert, whose power was threatened by Amadeus IX’s brother, Philip of Bresse (among others), was just seven years old. Yolande of France decided to proceed with her husband’s burial as quickly as possible, so that her son could be acclaimed by an assembly of the states and so that she could assume the regency before her brother-in-law reached Vercelli. The ceremonies for the duke’s burial were thus hurriedly prepared for 1 April. Emphasis was of course placed on prayer and contemplation, all the more so given that Amadeus IX died in a state of virtual holiness. For this reason, 1156 low masses were recited and alms were offered to 5832 poor people, for an amount of 182 florins. Four hundred and seven candles and torches were

 1 Eva Pibiri, ‘Les franciscains dans l’entourage du duc Louis de Savoie et d’Anne de Chypre (XVe siècle)’, in Frédéric Meyer and Ludovic Viallet (eds), Le silence du cloître, l’exemple des saints, XIVe– XVIIe siècles (Clermont-Ferrand: Presses Universitaires Blaise Pascal, 2011) (Identités franciscaines à l’âge des réformes, 2), pp. 311–28 (p. 311). The general treasury indicates that a Franciscan frock was bought for Louis of Savoy for his burial in 1465, Trésorerie Générale de Savoie, Archivio di Stato di Torino (henceforth TGS), no. 111, 1465–1466, fol. 316r.  2 Louis of Savoy was 51 or 52 years old at the time of his death: see François-Charles Uginet, ‘Ludovico I di Savoia, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, vol. 66 (2007), p. 432.  3 TGS, no. 111, 1465–1466, fols 313v-16r, 369v.  4 Pibiri, ‘Les franciscains dans l’entourage du duc Louis de Savoie et d’Anne de Chypre’, pp. 313–28.  5 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres: la mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005).

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purchased for more than 400 florins. In a very classic manner, the church was hung with black fabric and decorated with the escutcheons of Savoy: 16 large crests around the coffin and the chapelle ardente and 120 more on the church walls, with 300 smaller escutcheons attached to the candles. The coffin was covered with a black pall embellished with a white cross.6 Some trays were positioned directly on the duke’s body in order to receive offerings amounting to 2 florins 7 gros.7 The crosses of all the parish churches were also present to keep vigil over the deceased. These ceremonies were followed by a second funeral service which at last allowed homage to be paid to the duke in a majestic manner. These double funerals, practised by certain great noble families since the fourteenth century,8 were often celebrated several months or even a year after the prince’s death,9 permitting relatives, vassals, and friendly lords’ representatives to travel to pay homage to the deceased. This also gave the court time to prepare the decor and to purchase the necessary effects. The effigy, like those which the kings of France used from the fifteenth century on,10 was never employed in Savoy. Thus, on 1 April 1473, one year after Amadeus IX’s burial, Yolande of France organized a ceremony without precedent.11 The duchess adopted as her model the only documented example of such an event organized for the counts of Savoy: the funerals of Amadeus VI in 1383 and Amadeus VII in 1391. The lapse in time which separated the first funeral of Amadeus IX and the second already marked a first rupture with the Amadeus VI and Amadeus VII examples, which occurred 40 days and six months respectively after their burials. Furthermore, Duchess Yolande was not content simply to honour her husband’s memory, as on this occasion she also celebrated the memory of the duke’s parents, Louis of Savoy and Anne of Cyprus, at Vercelli, as well as at other locations that were highly symbolic for the dynasty. Indeed, ceremonies similar to the one organized at Vercelli were to take place at the Carthusian monastery of Pierre-Châtel,12 sanctuary of the

 6 TGS, no. 117, 1471–1472, fols 108r-09v.  7 In general, during the masses, the trays were carried in the church to receive offerings, Nadia Pollini, La mort du Prince. Rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) (Cahiers lausannois d’histoire médiévale, henceforth CLHM, 9), pp. 86–87.  8 Double funerals are attested to among the French nobility and the princes of Achaea in the fourteenth century, as well as among the Visconti and the Foix-Béarn at the beginning of the fifteenth century, Luisa Clotilde Gentile, Riti ed emblemi. Processi di rappresentazione del potere principesco in area subalpina (XIII–XVI secc.) (Turin: S. Zamorani, 2008) (Corti e principi fra Piemonte e Savoia, 2), pp. 72–73; Pollini, La mort du Prince, p. 76; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, p. 287. In contrast, this practice is not attested to among the dukes of Burgundy, nor is it found among the dukes of Lorraine. Among the counts of Savoy, the first documented case is that of Amadeus VI in 1383, Pollini, La mort du Prince, p. 75; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 283–90.  9 Pollini, La mort du Prince, pp. 75–76; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 283–89.  10 Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance, trans. by D. Ebnöther (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), pp. 48–51; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 239–57.  11 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 53v-67r.  12 Jean Létanche. ‘La chartreuse-forteresse de Pierre-Châtel en Bugey’, Mémoires de la Société Savoisienne d’Histoire et d’Archéologie, 47, Series 2, 22 (1909), 411–502.

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ordre du Collier, the knightly order Amadeus VI created in 1364,13 and in the Franciscan chapel where the ducal couple lay in Geneva. This exceptional event was not solely dictated by the desire to pay homage to Amadeus IX, but responded to the extremely strong pressure exerted against young Philibert’s power and his mother’s regency since, although Philibert had been acclaimed by the states, numerous vassals refused to offer him homage and his uncle, Philip of Bresse, was unhappy about his exclusion from the regency and the government. It is in this context that Duchess Yolande organized a second funeral for her husband, insisting on her son’s filiation so as to reinforce the legitimacy of his power. In including Louis of Savoy and Anne of Cyprus (who died in 1465 and 1462 respectively) in an original manner in Amadeus IX’s sepulchre, Yolande broadcast Philibert’s primogeniture and his legitimate claim to power, dismissing Philip of Bresse’s pretentions. The duchess could have settled for the ceremonies at Vercelli, but the commemorations at Geneva and Pierre-Châtel permitted her to proclaim forcefully her son’s power in territories where Philip of Bresse and his brothers exercised great influence. In order to provide a sumptuous setting for the funeral, the church and the three chapels were hung with precious fabrics: damasks, taffetas, velvet, satin — materials which also adorned the deacons and sub-deacons who officiated. While the cathedral was hung with black, the chapels and the officiants were adorned in white, green, red, violet, and crimson. The sum of nearly 2900 florins invested for this effort clearly demonstrates the décor’s importance and the wonder it must have provoked in those present. The cross of Savoy was omnipresent throughout the cathedral; on the 24 large escutcheons placed around the chapels, but also on 3400 smaller crests which decorated the walls, torches, and candles. While one year earlier the lighting furnished for Amadeus IX’s burial had cost around 400 florins, no less than 4538 livres of wax costing 1134 florins were required for this second funeral. The ambassadors of the Duke of Milan, the Marquis of Saluces, as well as the heralds of the Duke of Burgundy and the Marquis of Montferrat represented their lords during these sumptuous commemorations. In the same way, numerous barons, lords, and nobles from both sides of the mountains had travelled to render a final homage to their duke.14

 13 Laurent Ripart, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie: genèse d’un ordre monarchique de chevalerie (milieu XIVe–début XVe siècle)’, in Luisa Clotilde Gentile and Paola Bianchi (eds), L’affermarsi della corte sabauda. Dinastie, poteri, élites in Piemonte e Savoia fra tardo medioevo e prima età moderna (Turin: S. Zamorani, 2006), pp. 93–113.  14 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 53v-57r.

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Knightly Offering The central aspect of this second funeral was a chivalric offering. This practice developed in aristocratic milieux in the mid-thirteenth century, notably in Flanders and England. During the ceremony, the deceased’s combat and tournament equipment were exhibited on an altar and then offered to the church, as were horses, sometimes mounted by armed men who represented death.15 In 1473, the offering was not individual as was usually the case, since it was organized for Amadeus IX as well as for his father, Louis, following the model of Amadeus VI in 1383.16 The latter’s offering is known in precise detail thanks to a document which mentions the order in which the offered pieces were presented as well as the gestures performed on the occasion. Although no such document exists for the ceremony of Amadeus IX and Louis, accounts nonetheless attest to the presence of similar objects and establish a correspondence between the two ceremonies. All of the elements found in the Amadeus VI offering were also offered in 1473. First, a banner of Our Lady, then two banners of Saint Maurice and two of Saint George.17 The Virgin, protector of the knightly ordre du Collier18 of Savoy, was thus evoked, as were the saints of knighthood, with a place of honour given to Saint Maurice, protector of the Savoyard dynasty since the twelfth century.19 References to these two saints were more prominent in the offerings of Amadeus IX and Louis than in those of their ancestor, as the saints appeared not only on banners, but their arms were also present on crests and helms20 and on a horse blanket ornamented with the cross of Saint Maurice.21 As in Amadeus VI’s funeral, in 1473,22 a necklace of the ordre du Collier23 was offered, reminding viewers that the duke was head of the order. Knots of love, Amadeus VI’s personal emblem which decorated the necklace of the order,24 were also present in the offering for Amadeus IX and Louis. The knots were

 15 The knightly offering is also attested in Burgundy, Brittany and Savoy in the fourteenth century: Pollini, La mort du Prince, pp. 88–89; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 178–82, pp. 289–91.  16 This case is studied in depth in Pollini, La mort du Prince, pp. 88–99.  17 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 65v-66r.  18 Emprise created by Amadeus VI in 1364, during preparations for a crusade against the Turks. Thereafter, the Collier transformed into a monarchical order over the years 1383–1409, see Ripart, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie’, pp. 93–94.  19 Laurent Ripart, ‘L’anneau de saint Maurice’, in Bernard Andenmatten, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani and Annick Vadon (eds), Héraldique et emblématique de la Maison de Savoie (XIe–XVIe s.) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) (CLHM, 10), p. 74.  20 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 66r.  21 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 65r.  22 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 64v.  23 Dino Muratore, ‘Les origines de l’Ordre du Collier de Savoie dit de l’Annonciade’, Archives héraldiques suisses (1909) 5–12, 59–66, (1910) 8–16, 72–88; Ripart, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie’, p. 102; Gentile, Riti ed emblemi, pp. 36–41.  24 Ripart, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie’, pp. 99–100.

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placed on a covering, in concert with the motto ‘fert’,25 which also decorated the necklace of the order.26 This last aspect nonetheless differed from previous offerings, when the motto had been absent. Over time, Amadeus VI’s personal emblems, like the love knots, had become ‘integral’ elements of the dynasty and were presented in this manner in the 1473 offering. Together, the Savoyard emblems constituted the décor of the cathedral of Saint Eusebius, insistently recalling the dynasty. Although the dynasty was present, the deceased was by no means forgotten. Presenting his pieces of armour — helm, shield, coat of arms, sword, standard, banners — permitted the duke to be represented in the absence of his body and to recall his membership in the world of chivalry and warriors, as well as his prowess. This aspect nevertheless marked the limitations of reusing the model created for Amadeus VI’s funeral. Amadeus VI was an accomplished warrior and died during a military campaign, thus it was natural to represent him in this way. In the case of Amadeus IX, who had suffered from epilepsy throughout his life and was neither a jouster nor a warrior, it was more difficult to associate the offered objects with the deceased. Yet this questionable representation of the duke made reference to the chivalric model of Amadeus VI and justified the power of the deceased, who incarnated ducal power. It is therefore through the profusion of his personal emblem and his motto on the horses’ blankets, the arms tunics, and, above all, via a twelve by two metre standard that the person of the duke was evoked.27 The same was true for Duke Louis. It is worth signalling the appearance of a new element in relation to previous funerals in the presence of the gilded letters ‘A’ and ‘Y’,28 which were represented on a cover and a tunic of arms. These initials, which refer to the ducal couple, Amadeus and Yolande, created a pendant for the ducal couple of Louis and Anne, visualizing the ancestry of young Philibert, who was not present, and insisting once again on the primogeniture and legitimacy of the government of the son of Amadeus IX and Yolande of France.29 The 1473 celebrations also followed the model set in place for Amadeus VI and Amadeus VII in its offering of horses. This practice, present in Flanders and England beginning in the mid-thirteenth century,30 is attested for the first time in Savoy in 1328 during the funeral of Othon I of Grandson, a noble of Vaud and vassal of the Savoy who had long served at the court of Edward I.31 The knight  25 The motto, attested in 1382, was systematically associated with love knots beginning at the end of the fourteenth century, Ripart, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie’, p. 100.  26 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 64v-65v.  27 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 65v-66r.  28 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 64v-65r, 65v.  29 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fols 57v, 59r.  30 Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ‘L’offrande des chevaux. Une question ouverte’, in Eva Maier, Antoine Rochat and Denis Tappy (eds), A cheval entre histoire et droit. Hommage à Jean-François Poudret (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1999), pp. 114–17; Pollini, La mort du Prince, pp. 88–90; Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 208–13, 290–91.  31 Pollini, La mort du Prince, p. 89; Bernard Andenmatten, ‘Grandson, Othon Ier de’, in Dictionnaire historique de la Suisse, chief ed. M. Jorio, 13 vols (Hauterive: G. Attinger, 2006), vol. 5, p. 760.

chapter 7. the funerals of the dukes of savoy in the fifteenth century

had undoubtedly brought back this custom from his career in England, and it was later imitated by the counts of Savoy. In this way, 19 equestrian mounts were offered for Amadeus VI in 1383 and 23 for Amadeus VII in 1391;32 yet we find only ten for Louis and the same number for Amadeus IX.33 This reduction should probably be attributed to the number of horses given in the Statuts de Savoie promulgated by Amadeus VIII in 1430. Therein, the duke had strictly regulated the number of mounts that could be presented during such ceremonies: ten horses were authorized for the princes of Savoy, whereas barons had to be satisfied with just four.34 This rule was enacted in order to delineate clearly the hierarchy at the heart of the duchy and to discipline nobles by constraining them to a certain modesty but, above all, the rule served to recognize the ducal family’s supremacy and to regulate the sumptuous clothing and expenses used in ceremonies. The offering was also a moment to express the continuity of dynastic power in the face of the duke’s physical obsolescence. Since the early fifteenth century under the French kings, the red robes of members of the Parlement of Paris had been used to mark royal immortality in the funerary train, whose members mostly dressed in black to accompany the deceased to the abbey of Saint-Denis for burial,35 however the House of Savoy used a sword for this purpose. Already, during Amadeus VI’s funerary ceremonies in 1383, three swords were present: one gripped by the point and therefore useless, representing the deceased’s terrestrial wartime victories; another, broken, referring to the tournaments in which the count jousted and in which he could no longer participate. Both were given as offerings. The final sword, also the most precious, was held by the pommel and pointed towards the sky, so as to show the immortality of the count’s power. For this reason, the final sword was not offered.36 In 1473, swords also constituted part of the offering, however the accounts do not tell us which gestures were associated with them. The records indicate only that one of the swords cut, while the other did not.37 It would be tempting to see here the same symbols described above, attributing the role of the sword of justice to that which cut, yet this time both swords were offered. Furthermore, there is nothing to suggest that a supplementary sword was not used, without figuring in the account. Despite this uncertainty, the sword of justice’s role in the transmission of Savoyard power is unquestionable. Indeed, during the

 32 Pollini, La mort du Prince, p. 96.  33 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 65r.  34 Compendium statutorum generalis reformacionis Sabaudie, introduction, critical edition and index by Chantal Ammann-Doubliez, in La Loi du Prince. La raccolta normativa sabauda di Amedeo VIII (1430), ed. by Franco Morenzoni, with the collaboration of Mathieu Caesar, vol. II (Turin: Deputazione subalpina di storia patria, 2019) (Biblioteca storica subalpina, CCXXVIII/2), p. 348.  35 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 151–52; Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 94.  36 Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 94; Gentile, Riti ed emblemi, pp. 74, 76, 115. Since the ninth century, the return of the sword constituted one of the essential rites of the coronation of the French kings and represented the transmission of political and judiciary power, Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, p. 232.  37 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 65r.

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nobles’ and the states’ oath to young Philibert, which took place just three days after Amadeus IX’s burial at the castle of Vercelli on 4 April 1472, a missal and a sword were brought to Philibert before the oath was made to the new duke. The sword had always been a symbol of the transmission of power, but it was even more necessary in a funerary setting. In addition to the sword, the young duke received the ring of Saint Maurice as a sign of his investiture.38 This ring, considered a relic of Saint Maurice, was used by the counts of Savoy since the mid-thirteenth century for the transmission of the ducal title, but it had lost its importance after Amadeus VIII.39 However, in the context of 1473, when Yolande insistently appealed to tradition in order to legitimate her son’s contested power, the use of the ring of Saint Maurice in the ceremony represented a constitutive act of Philibert’s reign. This could also explain why the objects, with the saint’s cross, were increased during the 1473 offering. The second funeral organized for Amadeus IX was the last for the dukes of Savoy during the fifteenth century, as his successors died young and without leaving instructions. Philibert I died childless in 1482, at the age of 17 [see Plate VII].40 His brother, Charles I, inherited the title but died in 1490 at the age of 22,41 leaving only a nine-month old son, Charles Jean Amadeus, to succeed him. Charles’ widow, Blanche of Montferrat, found herself in the same situation as Yolande of France in 1473, with an heir too young to reign and whose power was coveted by the Duke of Milan, Galeazzo Maria Sforza, and Philip of Bresse, the deceased’s uncle. Following the model Amadeus IX’s wife had established, the widow had herself proclaimed as regent and her son acclaimed by an assembly of the states.42 Henceforth, the transmission of power was executed without recourse to the funeral and the body of the deceased prince. However, Charles John Amadeus did not have time to reign, as he died at the age of seven. Philip of Bresse, who had waited as governor for more than 20 years, finally became duke under the name of Philip II, yet he died a year later, in 1497.43 His funeral was particularly characterized by its religious tone. In fact, the account mentions only the expenses for masses and pious alms totalling 1717 florins,44 which seems  38 Elia Colombo, Iolanda, duchessa di Savoia: 1465–1478 (Turin: G. B. Paravia, 1893), pp. 263–64.  39 Ripart, ‘L’anneau de saint Maurice’, pp. 45–91.  40 Bernard Andenmatten and Laurent Ripart, ‘Ultimes itinérances. Les sépultures des princes de la Maison de Savoie entre Moyen Age et Renaissance’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Eva Pibiri and Denis Reynard (eds), L’itinérance des seigneurs (XIVe–XVIe siècles) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 2003) (CLHM, 34), pp. 241–42; Renata Crotti Pasi, ‘Filiberto I, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, vol. 47 (1997), pp. 651–52.  41 Andenmatten and Ripart, ‘Ultimes itinérances’, pp. 242–43; François-Charles Uginet, ‘Carlo I, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, vol. 20 (1977), pp. 288–94.  42 Parlamento Sabaudo VI. Atti delle Assemblee costituzionali italiane dal medioevo al 1831, ed. by Armando Tallone, parte prima, Patria cismontana, 16 vols (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1932), vol. 6 (1490–1524), pp. 1–7.  43 Andenmatten and Ripart, ‘Ultimes itinérances’, pp. 210, 213, 241–43; Gentile, Riti ed emblemi, p. 76.  44 Emmanuel de Quinsonas, Matériaux pour servir à l’histoire de Marguerite d’Autriche, duchesse de Savoie, régente des Pays-Bas, 3 vols (Paris: Delaroque frères, 1860), vol. 3, pp. 1–4. See also Andenmatten and Ripart, ‘Ultimes itinérances’, p. 213; Ferdinando Gabotto, Lo Stato sabaudo da Amedeo VIII ad Emmanuele Filiberto, 3 vols (Turin: Roux, 1895), vol. 3, pp. 73–76.

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absurd given the cost of Amadeus IX’s funeral: 10,634 florins.45 There was no second funeral, nor was a chivalric offering made. Likewise, the texts do not mention a sword and, more surprisingly, there is also no record of a dynastic emblem or blazon. It is evident, therefore, that the second funeral which Yolande of France organized in 1473 was, without contest, the most sumptuous funerary ceremony in Savoy during the fifteenth century. The event impressed peoples’ spirits to the extent that the Marquis of Mantua’s envoy, Raphael of Catanei, declared that it consisted of ‘the most beautiful demonstration ever made upon the occasion of the death of a lord in this region’.46 Jacques Lambelet, Philibert I of Savoy’s counsellor and maître des requêtes, outdid Catanei, recording in his register: ‘that the ceremony was such that in the memory of no man living had such a funeral been held, neither in France nor elsewhere’.47 Yet these sumptuous ceremonies were incongruous in relation to those of the dukes of Savoy in the latter half of the fifteenth century, who refused knightly offerings and ostentation in their funerals, much like Louis of Savoy’s burial dressed in the Franciscan habit.48 These dukes thus joined several princes of the fleurs-de-lis who, at the end of the fourteenth century, requested humble celebrations, concretely manifesting their ties to the Carthusians and Celestines, who granted much importance to poverty and asceticism.49 For its part, the court of Savoy, which was very close to the Franciscan observance,50 followed this tendency beginning in 1450, and this practice also clearly appeared in the counts of Challant’s testaments.51 It is therefore only because Amadeus IX’s second funeral was organized and inspired by the chivalric offering practised at Amadeus VI’s funeral almost 100 years earlier and arranged so as to signal the young Duke Philibert I’s legitimacy uncontestably, that the ritual of the offering, abandoned by the dukes of Savoy, was revived in 1473, only to be forgotten once again until the following century.52 The court of Savoy, a peripheral court, showed a certain delay with regard to the ceremonial innovations and changes adopted by certain French and

 45 TGS, no. 121, 1474, fol. 67r.  46 ‘de la plus belle démonstration jamais faite à l’occasion de la mort d’un seigneur dans cette région’, Gabotto, Lo Stato sabaudo da Amedeo VIII ad Emmanuele Filiberto, vol. 2, p. 99.  47 ‘que la cérémonie fut telle que de mémoire d’aucun homme vivant de semblables funérailles n’avaient été faites ni en France ni ailleurs’, Léon Ménabréa, Chroniques de Yolande de France, duchesse de Savoie, sœur de Louis XI, documents inédits (Chambéry: impr. de Puthod fils, 1859) (Académie des sciences, belles-lettres et arts de Savoie), pp. 54–55.  48 Pibiri, Les franciscains dans l’entourage du duc Louis de Savoie et d’Anne de Chypre, p. 311.  49 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 271–81.  50 Pibiri, Les franciscains dans l’entourage du duc Louis de Savoie et d’Anne de Chypre, pp. 311–28; Laura Gaffuri and Lorena Barale, ‘L’Osservanza minoritica in Piemonte nel Quattrocento’, in Letizia Pellegrini and Gian Maria Varanini (eds), Fratres de familia. Gli insediamenti dell’Osservanza minoritica nella penisola italiana (sec. XIV–XV) (Verona, 2011), pp. 27–74.  51 Orphée Zanolli, Les testaments des seigneurs de Challant (Aoste: ITLA (tip.), 1974), pp. 238, 275, 314; Alison Rosie, Ritual, Chivalry and Pageantry: The Courts of Anjou, Orléans and Savoy in the Later Middle Ages, PhD thesis (University of Edinburgh, 1989), p. 99.  52 Thalia Brero and Eva Pibiri, ‘Le corps du prince au sein des rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie’, pp. 413–19.

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Burgundian princes. The appearance of the ducal hat — pendant to the royal crown — during Philibert II’s funeral further confirms this. Indeed, this emblem of power was carried for the first time in 1504 in front of the body of the duke of Savoy’s funerary cortège,53 while the Burgundian court had already employed it in 1473 during the transfer of Philip the Good’s corpse to Champmol during his second funeral. Charles the Bold justified borrowing a royal symbol through his pretentions to the title of King of the Romans, a title he coveted.54 Beyond the styles and trends that are perceptible in all courts at various intervals, the principal motivation which drove the changes and appropriation of funerary rituals was power and the necessity of legitimating or laying claim to it. This was the case in Savoy for the minor duke Philibert in 1473, and several months later, for Charles the Bold in Burgundy. A robust ceremony, combined with a brilliant spectacle that inspired the spirit, was an essential component of the process necessary to obtain power.

 53 Account of Etienne Capris, trésorier général of Savoy, published by Quinsonas, Matériaux pour servir à l’histoire de Marguerite d’Autriche, vol. 3, pp. 75–105. The ducal hat had already been presented on Philibert I’s tomb in 1482, but it did not take part in the cortège on this date; see Joseph Jacquemoud, Description historique de l’abbaye royale d’Hautecombe et des mausolées élevés dans son église aux princes de la Maison royale de Savoie (Chambéry: Puthod: Perrin, 1843), p. 120.  54 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 229–34; Thalia Brero and Eva Pibiri, ‘Le corps du prince au sein des rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie’, p. 411. On the funerary rituals of the dukes of Savoy in the sixteenth century, see the thesis of Thalia Brero, Rituels dynastiques et mises en scène du pouvoir. Le cérémonial princier à la cour de Savoie (1450–1550) (Florence: SISMEL, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017) (Micrologus Library, 84)

chapter 7. the funerals of the dukes of savoy in the fifteenth century

Bibliography Abbreviations

CLHM: Cahiers lausannois d’histoire médiévale DBI: Dizionario biografico degli Italiani TGS: Trésorerie générale de Savoie, Archivio di Stato di Torino, Sezioni Riunite, inv. 16 Primary Sources

Compendium statutorum generalis reformacionis Sabaudie, introduction, critical edition and index by Chantal Ammann-Doubliez, in La Loi du Prince. La raccolta normativa sabauda di Amedeo VIII (1430), ed. by Franco Morenzoni, with the collaboration of Mathieu Caesar, vol. II (Turin: Deputazione subalpina di storia patria, 2019) (Biblioteca storica subalpina, CCXXVIII/2) Jacquemoud, Joseph, Description historique de l’abbaye royale d’Hautecombe et des mausolées élevés dans son église aux princes de la Maison royale de Savoie (Chambéry: Puthod: Perrin, 1843) Ménabréa, Léon, Chroniques de Yolande de France, duchesse de Savoie, sœur de Louis XI, documents inédits (Chambéry: impr. de Puthod fils, 1859) (Académie des sciences, belles-lettres et arts de Savoie) Parlamento Sabaudo VI. Atti delle Assemblee costituzionali italiane dal medioevo al 1831, ed. by Armando Tallone, parte prima, Patria cismontana, 16 vols (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1932), vol. 6 (1490–1524) Quinsonas, Emmanuel de, Matériaux pour servir à l’histoire de Marguerite d’Autriche, duchesse de Savoie, régente des Pays-Bas, 3 vols (Paris: Delaroque frères, 1860), vol. 3 Secondary Sources

Andenmatten, Bernard and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani (eds), with the collaboration of Nadia Pollini, Amédée VIII-Félix V premier duc de Savoie et pape (1383–1451) (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1997) Andenmatten, Bernard, ‘Grandson, Othon Ier de’, in Dictionnaire historique de la Suisse, chief ed. M. Jorio, 13 vols (Hauterive: G. Attinger, 2006), vol. 5, p. 760 Andenmatten, Bernard, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani and Annick Vadon (eds), Héraldique et emblématique de la Maison de Savoie (XIe–XVIe s.) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) (CLHM, 10) Andenmatten, Bernard and Laurent Ripart, ‘Ultimes itinérances. Les sépultures des princes de la Maison de Savoie entre Moyen Age et Renaissance’, in Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Eva Pibiri and Denis Reynard (eds), L’itinérance des seigneurs (XIVe–XVIe siècles) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 2003) (CLHM, 34), pp. 193–248

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Brero, Thalia and Eva Pibiri, ‘Le corps du prince au sein des rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (XIVe–XVIe siècles)’, in Le corps du prince, Micrologus, 22 (2014), 393–427 Brero, Thalia, Rituels dynastiques et mises en scène du pouvoir. Le cérémonial princier à la cour de Savoie (1450–1550) (Florence: SISMEL, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017) (Micrologus Library, 84) Cognasso, Francesco, ‘Amedeo VIII, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960– ), vol. 2, pp. 749–753 Colombo, Elia, Iolanda, duchessa di Savoia: 1465–1478 (Turin: G. B. Paravia, 1893) Crotti Pasi, Renata, ‘Filiberto I, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1997), vol. 47, pp. 651–52 Gabotto, Ferdinando, Lo Stato sabaudo da Amedeo VIII ad Emmanuele Filiberto, 3 vols (Turin: Roux, 1895), vol. 3 Gaffuri, Laura and Lorena Barale, ‘L’Osservanza minoritica in Piemonte nel Quattrocento’, in Letizia Pellegrini and Gian Maria Varanini (eds), Fratres de familia. Gli insediamenti dell’Osservanza minoritica nella penisola italiana (sec. XIV–XV) (Verona, 2011) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres: la mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) Gentile, Luisa Clotilde, Riti ed emblemi. Processi di rappresentazione del potere principesco in area subalpina (XIII–XVI secc.) (Turin: S. Zamorani, 2008) (Corti e principi fra Piemonte e Savoia, 2) Giesey, Ralph E., Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance, trans. by D. Ebnöther (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Létanche, Jean, ‘La chartreuse-forteresse de Pierre-Châtel en Bugey’, Mémoires de la Société Savoisienne d’Histoire et d’Archéologie, 47 (2nd series, 22), 1909, 411–502 Muratore, Dino, ‘Les origines de l’Ordre du Collier de Savoie dit de l’Annonciade’, Archives héraldiques suisses (1909), 5–12, 59–66, (1910), 8–16, 72–88 Paravicini Bagliani, Agostino, ‘L’offrande des chevaux. Une question ouverte’, in Eva Maier, Antoine Rochat and Denis Tappy (eds), A cheval entre histoire et droit. Hommage à Jean-François Poudret (Lausanne: Bibliothèque historique vaudoise, 1999), pp. 109–117 Pibiri, Eva, ‘Les franciscains dans l’entourage du duc Louis de Savoie et d’Anne de Chypre (XVe siècle)’, in Frédéric Meyer and Ludovic Viallet (eds), Le silence du cloître, l’exemple des saints, XIVe–XVIIe siècles (Clermont-Ferrand: Presses Universitaires Blaise Pascal, 2011) (Identités franciscaines à l’âge des réformes, 2), pp. 311–28 Pollini, Nadia, La mort du Prince. Rituels funéraires de la Maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) (CLHM, 9) Ripart, Laurent, ‘Du cygne noir au Collier de Savoie: genèse d’un ordre monarchique de chevalerie (milieu XIVe–début XVe siècle)’, in Luisa Clotilde Gentile and Paola Bianchi (eds), L’affermarsi della corte sabauda. Dinastie, poteri, élites in Piemonte e Savoia fra tardo medioevo e prima età moderna (Turin: S. Zamorani, 2006), pp. 93–113

chapter 7. the funerals of the dukes of savoy in the fifteenth century

Ripart, Laurent, ‘L’anneau de saint Maurice’, in Bernard Andenmatten, Agostino Paravicini Bagliani and Annick Vadon (eds), Héraldique et emblématique de la Maison de Savoie (XIe–XVIe s.) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994) (CLHM, 10), pp. 45–91 Rosie, Alison, Ritual, Chivalry and Pageantry: The Courts of Anjou, Orléans and Savoy in the Later Middle Ages, PhD thesis (University of Edinburgh, 1989) Uginet, François-Charles, ‘Carlo I, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1977), vol. 20, pp. 288–94 Uginet, François-Charles, ‘Ludovico I di Savoia, duca di Savoia’, in DBI, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 2007), vol. 66, pp. 430–33 Zanolli, Orphée, Les testaments des seigneurs de Challant (Aoste: ITLA (tip.), 1974).

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Part II

Sixteenth Century Edited by

Monique Chatenet

Marie Madeleine Fontaine

Chapter 8. Funerary Rites and Mysteries held in Connection with Treatises on Ancient Funerals in Sixteenth-Century France Without avoiding the immense complexity that characterized the reception or inheritance of ancient civilization up to the Renaissance, the convergence of two very distinct traditions in funerals makes possible — briefly of course — to show how one could conduct ancient funeral rites during the Renaissance. This in turn prompts an analysis of the manner in which princes and the nobility have revived certain ancient rituals or monuments since the fifteenth century, while other practices may have survived in a much humbler and less conspicuous fashion. We will see that the coming together of these two traditions brought tentative attempts and confusion but that their convergence was perfectly achieved in mid-sixteenth-century France in the project for the ‘Mausoleum of Henri II’ — called the Valois Rotunda — for which Catherine de Médicis gathered together historians, poets, architects, and artists immediately after the king’s death in 1559. The most obvious source, as it was also the most abrupt and unexpected, came from late quattrocento humanism and was absorbed into the Roman Church’s practices: this was the discovery, just before 1459,1 of the Greek text of Herodian on the funerals of the Roman emperors which immediately inspired popes and princes who were under the sway of learned humanists. The second source descended from the long moral heritage of the history of Artemisia, Queen of

 1 Date on which Flavio Biondo, in his De Roma triumphante libri decem, published his friend Ognibene dei Bonisoli’s Latin translation on the deification of the emperors according to Herodian (Historiae, IV. 1. 2–11 and 2.1). This same text would spread everywhere via Poliziano’s translation of Herodian’s Historiæ (Bologna: Plato de Benedictis, 1493; Lyon: S. Gryphe, 1533–1578; and Paris: Robert Estienne, 1544). Through its bias, this Latin translation, if it did not orient the reader, at least greatly contributed to imposing a partial reconstruction of the ceremonial described in Greek around ad 250. On these points, see the edition by Marie Madeleine Fontaine of a text by Jean Lemaire de Belges (1507), copied around 1511 ( Jean Lemaire de Belges, Des Anciennes pompes funeralles, MS of 1507 copied in Pierre Sala, Les Antiquités de Lyon, BnF, Ms. fr. 5447 (c. 1511), in Marie Madeleine Fontaine, Des anciennes pompes funeralles (Paris: Société des Textes Français Modernes, 2001), Introduction, pp. lxii–lxvi), as well as Marie Madeleine Fontaine, ‘Antiquaires et rites funéraires’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 329–55. Many thanks to G. and C. Leadbeater, and to M.-A. Maignan for revising the translation of this article.

Marie Madeleine Fontaine, Professor Emerita, University of Lille III. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 157–183  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120757

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Caria, which Greek and Latin authors2 had maintained and transmitted to one of the major phases of medieval humanism, in which Boccaccio made Artemisia the model of widows. Artemisia’s example influenced an entire series of ladies and authors until the end of the fifteenth century,3 since, after she religiously swallowed her husband Mausolos’s ashes, Artemisia dedicated to him the famous ‘Mausoleum’ of Halicarnassus, listed since antiquity as the ‘fifth wonder of the world’.4 Among the numerous ancient sources in which Artemisia appears,5 Vitruvius’s architectural manual became a model for the celebration of conjugal fidelity after death and for recalling precisely the queen’s story. Over time, his treatise created in its readers’ minds a relationship between a funeral rite and funerary monuments ‘à l’antique’. The discovery of the Greek text of Herodian’s Histoires and its ‘apotheosis’ of the Roman emperors was sufficient to provoke intense confrontation with ancient and recent excavations of ‘antique’ tombs and funerary monuments, or with the medals and coins that were so passionately passed on to enrich the collections of princes, ecclesiastics and finally all the wealthy enthusiasts.6 It was the popes who introduced the ritual of ‘apotheosis’ into fifteenth-century ‘canonizations’7 according to the testimony of Flavio Biondo and Volaterranus.8 This ritual continued under Popes Leo X (1513–1521) and Adrian VI (1522–1523),

 2 The antique sources treating Artemisia were well known in the sixteenth century: Herodotus, VII. 99 only speaks of Artemisia the warrior, but for the other Artemisia, the wife of Mausolos, who also belonged to history, see especially Vitruvius, II. 8; Valerius Maximus, IV. 6; Pliny, XXXVI. 30–31; Aulus Gellius, X. 3–4. Many other authors, including Cicero and Propertius, also refer to Artemisia.  3 See the influence of Boccaccio’s famous De mulieribus claris (1361–1362) on the many works in numerous languages concerning ‘illustrious ladies’, notably Giacomo Filippo Foresti, called Giacomo da Bergamo (1497), and Antoine Dufour (1504) in the service of Louis XII and Anne de Bretagne.  4 According to Vitruvius, II. 8, ‘On Pieces of Masonry’, regarding the royal palace and mausoleum of Halicarnassus (trans. by Jean Martin, Paris, 1547, fols 22v-23v, and Claude Perrault, 1684, pp. 47–48). Vitruvius also relates that Artemisia first imposed ‘her image’ on public buildings in the conquered town of Rhodes [which is not unimportant to princes…].  5 Ancient traces of Artemisia had long been sought, and in 1581 Claude Guichard reproduced medals which were supposedly ‘antique’ representing Artemisia and Mausolos, figuring in the Lyon collections of Antoine de La Porte and M. de Saint-Irigny (François Laurencin, M. de Saint-Irénée); see Claude Guichard, Funerailles et diverses manieres d’ensevelir des Rommains, Grecs, et autres nations, tant anciennes que modernes (Lyon: Jean de Tournes, 1581), pp. 375–76 and 378. He further cites, pp. 379–80, the report of La Tourette to Dalechamp on the supposed site of the mausoleum of Halicarnassus, complaining that the crusaders had destroyed a monument that had survived ‘2,247 years’ (a large square room richly ornamented and encircled by marble columns, above a cave containing the sepulchre).  6 See the omnipresent word Consecratio (that is, the deification of emperors Marcus Aurelius, Trajan and Antoninus) on numerous medals which many people possessed and reproduced. See especially the reports of Guillaume Du Choul, Discours de la religion des Anciens Romains (Lyon: G. Roville, 1555–1556), with the illustration of Consecratio, p. 72; and of Fulvio Orsini, and Antonio Agostin, Familiæ Romanæ quæ reperiuntur in antiquis numismatibus (Rome: M. Tramezini and G. de Angelis, 1577).  7 French authors (Du Choul and Vigenère, among others) never speak of an ‘apotheosis’ for the ‘deification’ of the Roman emperors, but of their ‘canonization’, even when examining medals of imperial Roman Consecratio, showing the extent to which pagan-Roman and Roman-Christian vocabularies were definitively mixed.  8 Raffaele/Volaterranus Maffei, Commentariorum urbanorum libri XXXVIII, vol. De philologia (Rome: J. Besicken, 1506); cited in the 1544 edn (Basel: Froben).

Chapter 8. Funera ry Rites a nd Mysteries

as Giraldi demonstrated in 1539,9 and princes began to imitate them. Herodian’s success among humanists is puzzling when viewed alongside the intense research by editors and commentators on all other Greek and Roman texts on funerary rituals. These included Homer up to the time of Virgil, and poets who were more verbose regarding these rites, such as Ovid, Statius, Silius Italicus, Martial, and Lactantius. Included also were works by Greek and Roman historians, geographers, and savants such as Herodotus, Strabo, Diodorus of Sicily, Pliny, Tacitus, Suetonius, Plutarch, the Historia Augusta, and even a reflection or a detail found in philosophers including Plato, Cicero, Seneca, and Clement of Alexandria.10 The greatest scholars of the time, Poliziano, Philippo Beroaldo, Marco Antonio Sabellico, Gian Battista Egnazio, Guillaume Budé, and many others made available through their commentaries new treatises in Latin or in the vernacular which, in some way inspired by this Herodian fragment, dedicated themselves exclusively to the subject of funerals, whether they were Italian, French, or Austrian. Singlehandedly, Herodian’s Greek text, brief and sparsely detailed though it was, had the power to impress the whole of Christian Europe, through its description of the eagle’s flight over the Imperial Roman pyre, and all the sacredness that animated the notion of the immortality of the soul among the pagans. The version of Herodian revised by Poliziano (1493)11 carried authority and was widely cited, notably by Alessandro Alessandri (1501),12 Volaterranus (1506), Cœlius Rhodiginus (1516),13 Chasseneux (1529),14 Giraldi (1539),15 and Lazius (1551).16 Its influence spread so rapidly that we have perhaps not yet perceived its full impact: for example, in Francesco Colonna’s Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499) on the character of monuments dedicated to Roman deification — called ‘pyramids’ or ‘obelisks’ — or on the bizarre eagle which figures at the very top of  9 Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, De sepulchris et vario sepeliendi ritu, libellus (Basel: M. Isengrin, 1539) (dedication from 1533 to G. F. Pico della Mirandola); other edition: Opera omnia duobus tomis distincta (Antwerp: Hackium Boutesteyn, Vivre, Vander Aa and Luchtmans, 1696). Giraldi takes up Herodian, chap. xvi, pp. 32–25 (these examples, p. 35) in De sepulchris (Opera omnia, vol. 1, pp. 757–58), notably for the canonization of Saint Francis of Paola by Leo X and the beatification of Saint Anthony of Florence by Adrian VI, events which Giraldi attended: ‘en voilà assez sur ce point’ (enough on this point) Giraldi concluded.  10 See the very numerous sources listed in the annotation of the Anvers edition of Giraldi’s treatise in 1696; a portion is listed in ‘Antiquaires et rites funéraires’, pp. 346–49, with regard to P. Woeiriot’s album taken from fragments of this text. See also the abundant sources provided by Jean Lemaire de Belges’ treatise as documented in the introduction and annotations to the edition by Fontaine (Lemaire de Belges, Des Anciennes pompes funeralles). Guichard, Funerailles, added many others in 1581.  11 Angelo Poliziano, translator of Herodian’s Greek, Historiæ.  12 Alessandro Alessandri/Alexander ab Alexandro, Genialium dierum libri sex (Rome: I. Mazochio, 1501; Paris: Ch. Guillard, 1539).  13 Lodovico Ricchieri / Cœlius Rhodiginus, Antiquæ lectiones (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1516), IX. 44 and 46.  14 Barthélemy de Chasseneux, Catalogus gloriæ mundi (Lyon: Denys de Harsy, 1529); cited in the 1603 edn (Frankfurt: J. Saurius), book 2, chap. 6, p. 87.  15 Giraldi, De sepulchris (1539).  16 Wolfgang Lazius, Commentariorum Rei publicæ Romanæ… libri duodecim, (Basel: Oporin, 1551), vol. 3, chap. xviii, pp. 420–38 [Herodian, p. 424B].

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the temple-mausoleum, to which Italian and French illustrators gave excessive proportions despite the fact that the ‘aquila’ had slipped almost surreptitiously into the text, albeit in two important places.17 During the sixteenth century, Poliziano’s version was also translated — or, rather adapted — into French by J. Lemaire de Belges (1507), Guillaume Du Choul (1555),18 in A. Allègre’s translation of Antonio de Guevara (1556),19 Nicolas Houël (before 1571),20 Claude Guichard (1581),21 and Blaise de Vigenère (1583).22 Beginning in 1507, the poet Jean Lemaire de Belges combined this Herodian heritage with the more ancient tradition of Artemisia, in order to convince Marguerite d’Autriche, regent of the Low Countries, to use ancient funerals as the inspiration for the tomb projects at Brou, and to assist her father, Maximilian I, who had recently become Emperor of Germany and thus the heir to the Roman emperors, in designing the funerary church at Innsbruck. Although Lemaire saw his patroness Marguerite d’Autriche as an Artemisia in the vein of so many other widowed ladies, the discovery in the summer of 1507, of an intact gallo-roman burial tumulus near Brussels prompted him to write a brilliant and concise treatise, whose main lines were followed in the Renaissance in the texts and in the facts.23 Lemaire dedicated a special chapter to funerary monuments, gathering together ‘inscriptions and epitaphs’, and ‘pyramids, statues, columns

 17 In Colonna’s text, the first monument of Poliphile, overtly funerary, is called a ‘pyramid’ in Italian as in French, and particularly the temple with its vault is, as a matter of priority, a mausoleum surmounted with strange superstructures dominated by an ‘aquila’ with its wings outspread, who takes flight, like the soul, in ‘regardant en l’air’ as is restated a little later: ‘sur la pointe [at the top of the arch] estoit fiché un croyssant de Lune qui sembloit comme renouvellée de huits jours, les cornes tournées vers le ciel. Dedans ce croissant estoit branché un(e) Aigle marin(e), aiant ses aelles estendues’. Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1499), sigs m7r-n. 2v. Italian translation, 1998, vol. 2, pp. 204–17 and note 3, p. 843. French translation by Jean Martin (1546), fols 71v and 74v). The crescent moon might recall the assumption of the Virgin (of Apocalypse 12. 1), that we begin to see so often in paintings at this period. But the eagle (female in Italian) is that of the emperors’ souls. See Franz Cumont, Recherches sur le symbolisme funéraire des Romains (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1942).  18 Du Choul, Discours de la religion des Anciens Romains, pp. 69–75.  19 Antonio Guevara, Decade contenant les vies des empereurs Trajanus, Adrianus […], Severus, Bassianus […] Alexander, extraictes de plusieurs auteurs grecs, latins et espagnols, et mises en françois par Antoine Allegre (Paris: Vascosan Imprimeur du Roy, 1567), pp. 389–90.  20 Nicolas Houël, L’histoire de la Royne Arthemise de l’invention de Nicolas Houël, BnF. Ms fr. 306.  21 Guichard, Funerailles, pp. 176–81, with his own commentaries and the medal figures taken from Du Choul and engraved by P. Vase (P. Cruche) which depicted the eagle’s take-off in the apotheosis; here he adds precise details and alerts the reader to the imitation of the ritual upon the death of the pope or of the cardinals, vol. 3, pp. 523–30.  22 Blaise de Vigenère, ‘Annotations à la Première décade de Tite Live’, in Les Décades… mises en langue françoise, la première par Blaise de Vigenère, … avec des annotations et figures pour l’intelligence de l’antiquité romaine (Paris: Jaques du Puy, 1583), cols 837–89.  23 See Marie Madeleine Fontaine’s edition of this copy made for Pierre Sala in BnF. Ms fr. 5447 (Lemaire de Belges, Des Anciennes pompes funeralles). Here, Lemaire first treated the ‘modes de pompes funèbres’ of the Trojans, Greeks and Romans (chaps i-x), with a special treatment of the ‘Kings of the Orient’ and Artemisia (xi). He then described the excavations of 1507 at Zaventheim in Brabant (xii), which he prolonged with a reflection on the types of funerary monuments (xiii–xiv), before returning to the deification of the Roman emperors according to Herodian (xv–xviii), ending with the Egyptians (xix–xx) and the Jews (xxi–xxii).

Chapter 8. Funera ry Rites a nd Mysteries

and needles’24 of ‘rich and precious marble engraved and carved with their arms and deeds’ like ‘those which one still sees today in Rome’.25 He immediately thought to enlarge his reflection on Greek and Roman funerals to include other ancient peoples — the Egyptians and the Jews — and he was not the last to do it, opening the way for their appearance in renaissance treatises by drawing on Herodotus and Strabo as well as on the practices of the New World discovered in 1492, in which Marguerite d’Autriche quickly became interested. While these investigations of Lemaire benefited from reflections on the traditions of the known universe by the ancients (Herodotus, Strabo, and Diodorus of Sicily above all), knowledge of the contemporary world would enable Pierre Choque to think about Turkish funerals,26 and Giraldi to compare Turkish customs with those recommended by Plato.27 The discovery of the New World brought variety and breadth to reflections on funerary rites. To the examination of the ancient rituals of Greeks, Egyptians, Scythians, Ethiopians, Indians, the peoples of the Danube, and the Gauls, were added those of the American Indians.28 Knowing the friendship that linked Lemaire to Jean Perréal and their shared service at the courts of Mechelen and in France,29 we can better understand that the funeral ceremonies of Anne de Bretagne (for which Perréal was the maître d’oeuvre) had the benefit of the humanist tradition through Lemaire de Belges.30

 24 The word ‘aiguille’ (needle), chosen by Lemaire, had, since the sixteenth century in France, designated obelisks as well as pyramids and even the spires of churches (see below notes 75 and 76). ‘Haute esguille’, for example (in Guichard, Funerailles, p. 433) designated the monument of Autun ‘en forme de pyramide’ that Chasseneux presented to François Ier. See Barthélemy de Chasseneux, Catalogus gloriæ mundi (Lyon: Denys de Harsy, 1529), 48v; cited in the 1603 edn, 2 vols (Frankfurt: J. Sauris), vol. 2, pp. 5–6v. On this monument (still visible today), see Fontaine’s translation of the text in ‘Antiquaires et rites funéraires’, p. 337. This serves to show the extent to which the reflection on funerary forms then were imprecise in French.  25 Lemaire des Belges, BnF. Ms. fr. 5447, Des anciennes pompes funeralles, ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine (2001), chap. xiv, p. 32; this chapter immediately precedes that which treats the deification of the Roman emperors.  26 See note 30.  27 Today, the Turks indicate the place where someone is buried with a stone, a grass-covered tumulus, and a tree so as to prevent animals from digging up the tomb, as in Plato’s Laws, according to Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, Opera omnia, De sepulchris, vol. 1, p. 741.  28 It is characteristic of the breadth of Claude Guichard’s French treatise to draw from Jean de Léry’s Voyage de Brésil (1574), as did ancient sources (Strabo, about Gaul in particular). He could thus compare the ritual of Brazilian mourners to those of Béarn, just as he saw in Strabo’s Gauls, a conception of the soul’s immortality that was comparable to that of the Christians.  29 Both Lemaire and Perréal served Anne de Bretagne and Louis XII, before serving François Ier’s wife, Claude de France, to whom Lemaire gave a second version of his Anciennes pompes funeralles, in which he had removed the parts concerning Marguerite d’Autriche and her father, at the moment of Anne de Bretagne’s death, in BnF. Ms. fr. 22326, with notable absences in relation to BnF. Ms. fr. 5447 (published in Fontaine’s Anciennes pompes funeralles, 2001, pp. 51–80).  30 Anne de Bretagne’s second husband, Louis XII, had evidently sought to rival the funeral of his predecessor, Charles VIII, Anne’s first husband, but also the court of Mechelen: after Anne de Bretagne’s death, the King had Pierre Choque, the deceased queen’s herald, describe the now well-known story, and order numerous copies of the beautiful manuscripts destined for important people, in order to provide publicity for the proceedings. Louis XII also sought to rival Marguerite d’Autriche as Anne de Bretagne had done, as his daughter Claude de France would later do in 1514, and later Louise de Savoie. Moreover Pierre Choque took up Lemaire’s

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Such a new access to antiquity was accompanied by comparative studies on Christian ritual, and a new understanding of the continuities and differences between the two regarding death. Although the desire to imitate the ancients was strong, since the start of the sixteenth century some words of caution had been expressed concerning the adaptation of these ancient rituals to the Christian world — in Chasseneux (1529), Giraldi (1539), Lazius (1551),31 Guichard (1581),32 and Vigenère (1583), for example. The condemnation, if indeed there was one, did not always stigmatize the ancients. Giraldi was the first to remark that ‘even in our Christian religion, there is some superstition in our burial rites’ comparable to those of antiquity.33 Without criticizing, Giraldi always attempted to understand the pagans’ religion and their ceremonies by viewing their motives and imagination through the eyes of an anthropologist and a mythologist, as he did again in his De deis gentium. Chasseneux, Giraldi, Lazius, and Guichard, all curious about excavations and new revelations, were as attentive to differences between pagan rituals and Christianity as to the frequent continuity of human expression across time and space regardless of religion. At the very least, they all agreed that the defining feature of Christianity (not believing it would be heresy) was that everyone possesses an immortal soul.

interest in foreign funerals, like those of the Turks and other ‘pagan princes’, quite preposterous in such circumstances, recalling the ‘grande pompe et triomphe des antiques obsèques’, which is more expected. See Pierre Choque, Récit des funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne précédé d’une complainte sur la mort de cette princesse et de sa genealogie, le tout composé par Bretaigne, son hérault d’armes, ed. by Lucien Merlet and Max. de Gombert (Paris: A. Aubry, 1858; repr. Slatkine, 1970), pp. 92–93. Still without knowledge of Lemaire’s 1507 text, Ralph Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), already presented an annex in which he credited Lemaire with influencing Anne de Bretagne’s funeral and the post mortem meal. On the revival of studies on this subject, see Hélène Bloem, ‘The Processions and Decorations at the Royal Funeral of Anne of Brittany’, and Pierre-Gilles Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition cat., château de Blois (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014) on the ensemble of the documentation. See also Monique Chatenet’s contribution in the present volume, Chapter 9.  31 Lazius, Commentariorum, vol. 3, chap. xviii, pp. 420–38, ‘De funerariis, vespilionibus, prolinctoribus, omnibusque ceræmoniis quæ in funeribus in Romana Republica adhibebantur’. On this little-known Austrian antiquarian and collector, very sensitive to the social and political mobility in the Roman Empire, see William Stenhouse, Reading Inscriptions and Writing Ancient History. Historical Scholarship in the Late Renaissance (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2005), chap. 5 and passim. Lazius was critical-minded, but he was strongly criticized by his contemporaries for the errors in his epigraphic summary: see Ginette Vagenheim, ‘Une amitié épigraphique: Smetius, Clusius et Justus Lipsius’, in La Société des Amis à Rome et dans la littérature médiévale et humaniste, Latinitates Series 2 (Brepols: Turnhout, 2008), pp. 305–15. On Chasseneux, Giraldi, and Guichard, see Fontaine, ‘Antiquaires et rites funéraires’, pp. 336–44.  32 Guichard, Funerailles. This edition experienced great success and is still found in numerous libraries. In his 1581 dedication to the Duke of Savoy, Guichard affirmed having reused his first notes on the Romans, which date back to his law studies in Turin, and for having added ‘les diverses manieres d’ensevelir de toutes les autres nations, tant anciennes que modernes, dont j’ai pu avoir congnoissance’. The work includes an index and an impressive bibliography, in addition to his very broad citations. It is a veritable French compendium of these subjects.  33 Giraldi, Opera omnia (1696), vol. 1, p. 731, ‘nostra Christianorum lege quoque, sua sepulchris inest religio’.

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This way the authors highlighted a certain continuity even if they did not begin to explain it. The most notable example of continuity remained the ancient protocol of the effigy in Rome.34 Continuity remained, too, in the use of the funerary beds, crowned with hanging draperies (the dais) that Lazius traced to Caesar’s death, demonstrating that in spite of a long period of disuse, these objects are used again today.35 Lazius also noted that senators carried the imperator’s body36 as was the case for nobles and high-ranking individuals of his time. All these authors pointed out the extraordinary role of the light-bearers who accompanied funerals, a tradition which the Renaissance would develop to its utmost.37 Moreover, antiquarians were obsessed with lamps and objects from which light still emanated at the moment of the excavations,38 or by the survival of embalming perfumes when urns were opened.39

 34 Chasseneux, Catalogus gloriæ mundi, vol. 2, chap, 6. p. 87, col. b, who was primarily inspired by Volaterranus; Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 423; Guichard, Funerailles, p. 177. This ritual of the royal effigy, established in France in 1422 for Charles VI, existed even before the discovery of Herodian’s text, and Lazius was right to recognize the antiquity of this ritual. He nonetheless calls the effigy or imago of the deceased (pp. 422 and 423) archymnus [sic]: an aberrant word that Vigenère, without citing what he owed to Lazius, later corrected to ‘Archimine’, providing as a source an interpretation of Florus (under Hadrian), ‘sur le 48 de Tite Live’: this would be, in addition to the wax image, a man imitating the deceased next to the bier: Vigenère thus described, ‘marcher auprès de la bière un qui le representoit et contrefaisoit’ (Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 860). It undoubtedly refers to the buffons who accompanied the dead, according to Suetonius, Vespasian, 19, cited by Guichard, Funerailles, p. 36.  35 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 423, ‘… denique et ceream imaginem in lecto fuisse et ante lectum etiam prælatam, qui mos exolevi’, a custom which the Christians had done away with as idolatrous (ob idolatriam), but which had just been re-established.  36 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 424.  37 Lazius, Commentariorum, pp. 422 and 427; Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 966, along with all the other writers attribute importance to the torches, preserved by the Christians of their time. The torches of antique cortèges were now succeeded by the thousands of candles used in the well-known funerals of princes and other notable individuals. See the recent analysis of Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘Anne de France, la mort et les corps saints’, in Th. Crépin-Leblond and M. Chatenet (eds), Anne de France. Art et pouvoir en 1500 (Paris: Picard, 2014), pp. 37–50 (pp. 39–40). The coffin of an important ecclesiastic like Sante Pagnini, the author of the new Latin translation of the Bible published in Lyon in 1528, initially scheduled for Leo X, was followed in 1536 in Lyon by a cortège of 300 notable townspeople, each individual holding a torch: see Antoine Péricaud, Notes et documents, Année 1536 (Lyon, 1840), p. 57.  38 Lazius, Commentariorum, pp. 424 and 425; Guichard, Funerailles, was very prolific on the subject, pp. 83–86, after Ermolao Barbaro, P. Appian and Lazius; Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 866. This motif of the ‘inextinguishable’ light of these lamps that was ‘still fierce’ even served to authenticate an excavation, and we see this reused by all antiquarians, particularly those in the Low Countries.  39 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 425. Lazius claimed to have experienced this in the course of an excavation near Vienna with as much pleasure as if it had been a musk or a balsamic perfume. F. de Belleforest took up this point for the fictive tombs of contemporary princes: ‘il ouvre un huys de fer qui estoit du costé du tombeau [du duc de Guise] vers l’Orient, et soudain nous sentismes une telle souëveté et odeur tant aromatique qu’il ne nous souvenoit plus de chose de ce monde[…] Ceste senteur si souëve sortoit des ossements et baume, duquel estoient oints les corps des [princes] les plus excellens qui eussent, il y avoit longtemps gouverné les Gaules [la France]’, François de Belleforest, La Pyrénée et Pastorale amoureuse (Paris: G. Mallot, 1571), p. 158. (The priest who guides visitors ‘opens an iron door which was next to the tomb [of the Duke of Guise] towards the east, and suddenly we felt such a sweetness and a scent so aromatic that we did not remember anything from this world […] This sweet fragrance emanated from the bones and the balm, with which the bodies of the most excellent princes who ever governed the Gauls [France] were anointed long ago’).

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Antiquarians were fascinated, too, by the famous linen which resisted the pyre’s fire, of which they all spoke.40 All the authors eulogized the sophisticated practices of embalming, and the importance of this bodily preparation in the Renaissance is well known.41 Authors were astonished that cenotaphs (which allowed the deceased to be honoured) had been maintained even when there was not a body available.42 They noted the permanence of the offering of scented flowers and aromatic herbs,43 of libations,44 and of the funerary eulogy,45 which is not suppressed by epitaphs.46 The mourners’ improvisations, whether they occurred in Béarn or in Brazil, were very interesting to Guichard,47 as was the role of choral music, whether choirs composed of women, young boys, or of men.48 The permanent use of instruments, especially trumpets and flutes, was remarkable.49 The authors also allude to the great feasts which honoured the dead, and — often the most touching element — to the gestures of affection given to the deceased: the closing of the eyes and the giving of final kisses.50 In fact, the best judge of the respective permanent practice between ancient or medieval observance, at least for renaissance French kings’ funerals, remains Jean du Tillet.51 Du Tillet was undoubtedly right to view the transporting of Charles VIII’s body on his companions’ shoulders as a return to an ancient

 40 They all called this linen asbestos (‘inextinguishable’ in Greek), the same name in English, for the French ‘amiante’; see Vigenère, Les Décades, cols 873–74.  41 On plans and the embalmers, see Giraldi; Lazius provides the most precise and abundant information on the trade of embalming the body in antiquity: ‘polinctores, sandapilarii, vespillones et libitinarii’ (embalmers, those who carried the bier on stretchers, and others responsible for funerary festivities) that he comes close to the Austrian ‘parleiche’ of his time, pp. 421–22; Guichard and Vigenère borrowed all of his words.  42 Lazius, Commentariorum, pp. 428 and 431.  43 Chasseneux, Catalogus gloriæ mundi, vol. 2, chap. 6, following Biondo; Guichard, Funerailles, p. 89.  44 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 424 for milk and wine; Guichard, Funerailles, p. 74, for aromatic wines, saffron, etc.  45 Chasseneux, Catalogus gloriæ mundi, vol. 2, chap. 6, p. 87, col. a, recalling, as the Greek and Roman models of Pericles and Valerius Publicola eulogizing Brutus (Plutarch, Vie de Publicola, xvii). Lazius also affirmed that one could still see tabernacula in the form of a pyramide and a pulpit (suggestus) in the middle of the choir for the eulogy of a contemporary prince, as was done in Rome.  46 Giraldi, De sepulchris (1539), p. 4; but he remarks that the Greeks, Latins, and Barbarians preferred a true discourse to epitaphs’ brevity.  47 Guichard, Funerailles, pp. 34–36, citing the commentary of Servius on the Aeneid, V; and pp. 461–65 on Brazil and Béarn; Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 864.  48 Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 964, ‘For this reason, this pleasant music of the heavens…is still practised in our Church and religion; and some shadow of these two modes of song also remain […]: after the Requiem æternam in a sad and doleful tone, the Diana cries loudly Ite missa est, as if from happiness’ (‘Parquoi cette plaisante musique des cieux… est encore practiquée en nostre Eglise et religion; et de ces deux manières de chants aussi en reste quelque ombre […]: après le Requiem æternam d’un ton pitoyable et dolent, la Diane s’escrie à haute voix, comme par une alaigresse, Ite missa est’).  49 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 424 on the trumpets; p. 427 he describes the songs of children and young people, of men dressed in black, and of noble women also dressed in black as in foreign countries; Guichard, Funerailles, pp. 46–50, after Cicero, Statius, Athenaeum, cites trumpets for grand individuals, evokes the flutes, fiddles and tambourines of his time, and translates tibia as cornet or oboe.  50 Guichard, Funerailles, p. 73, after Pliny and the Latin poets.  51 Jean du Tillet, Recueil des Roys de France, leur couronne et maison (Paris: Jaques Du Puys, 1580); edn cit. ‘Funérailles et enterrements des Rois et Roynes de France’, (Paris: Houzé, 1602), pp. 235–50, 297.

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style52 which, according to Plutarch, dated back to the wise Roman King Numa Pompilius.53 Charles VIII’s body was carried atop his effigy on the lit de parement (in its entirety) upon the shoulders of his companions in arms, who were not afraid of the weight, instead of by Paris’s salt merchants (the ‘Hanoüars’), who had previously had the privilege. This is the ancient and Christian protocol wherein gentlemen ‘wished to remain near the body’, ‘a rare example of servants’ love for their good king’, as Du Tillet praised them while also criticizing the dishonourable and unchristian disorder of Charles VIII’s successors.54 Nevertheless, by the end of the century in Italy, Porcacchi55 and even the erudite Vigenère, in France, did not always have the same understanding of the spirit of the ancient sacred, a spirit that persists in Christian rites.56  52 Charles VIII’s funeral has not yet been well-studied, unlike those of Anne de Bretagne, in whom Du Tillet was much less interested; besides Du Tillet says that the post mortem meal existed earlier, as Chasseneux and Lazius prove.  53 Du Tillet, Recueil des Roys de France, pp. 240–41 (Plutarch, Vie de Pompilius, xxxv; trans. by Amyot, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, I, pp. 160–61). Du Tillet willingly cites Suetonius and also recalls that ‘the kings of France followed their father’s body from the place where they died to the place of their sepulchre, and, eventually, carried their father’s bier on their shoulders from Notre-Dame to Saint-Denis’ (‘Les rois de France suivaient le corps de leur père depuis le lieu où ils etoient morts jusqu’au lieu de leur sépulture, et eventuellement portoient la bière de leur père sur leurs épaules de Notre-Dame à Saint-Denis’).  54 Du Tillet, Recueil des Roys de France, p. 245. Louis XII’s body was under the effigy and the entirety returned to the salt merchants. François Ier’s body and effigy were disassociated from each other and the corpse placed on a chariot; the more visible effigy preceded the body and returned to the salt merchants. It was the effigy that received the honours while the body took second place, carried ‘with some pain’ by the gentlemen of the chambre with straps over their shoulders, although it was ‘le corps qui par la future résurrection sera immortel’ (the body which by its future resurrection would be immortal), as Du Tillet noted with Christian disapproval. As to Henri II’s body and the effigy, the same gentlemen were content to walk at the side, holding only the cloth-of-gold that covered the effigy.  55 Tommaso Porcacchi, Funerali Antichi di diversi Popoli et Nationi; Forma, ordine, et pompe di sepolture, di essequie, di consecrationi antiche et d’altro, Descripti in Dialogo da Thomaso Porcacchi da Castiglione Arretino. Con le Figure in Rame di Girolamo Porro Padovano (Venice: Simon Calignani, 1574). Porcacchi was always ready to mock the follies of others rather than to demonstrate a scientific and definitive distance, as did Vigenère. His intentions and the engravings that he commissioned from Girolamo Porro are indeed very different from those of authors of the first half of the century up to Guichard. For, while Porcacchi enters into an elevated conversation, repeating ‘word for word’ or citing antique inscriptions as in Giraldi’s scholarly studies (which Vigenère observed, in Les Décades, col. 886), as Lazius did, or even while citing Giraldi, Porcacchi’s aim was, above all, to flatter Venetian collectors of antiquities and medals, whom he carefully names. With particular irony, he stigmatized ‘madness’, ‘ridiculousness’, and ‘vanity’, which he saw everywhere amongst the cruel, unintelligible, and uncivilized customs of foreign peoples, without the least intuition concerning the sacred antique (see the edition of 1574, passim and, notably, pp. 51, 59 or 72–74). His work contradicted that of Woeiriot (Pierre Woeiriot, Pinax iconicus (Lyon: Clemens Baldinus, 1556)), by which Porcacchi was nonetheless inspired. He commissioned an engraving of a very demeaning funeral oration — although the funerary oration was flowering during the Renaissance and had always been treated with respect in funeral treatises — where the dead is represented as a circus animal, lowered feet first before the public on a wooden platform held on the shoulders of bare-chested workers, while he indicates the man who offered the deceased’s eulogy on a small supplementary chair, like a farcical Tabarin (figure of chap. VIII, p. 72, reproduced by Chiara Lastraioli, ‘Les funerali antichi de Tommaso Porcacchi’, in Balsamo, Les funérailles à la Renaissance, pp. 357–88; 381). The figure is also reproduced in Vigenère, Les Décades, cols 864 ff. On Vigenère and Porcacchi, see Denyse Metral, Blaise de Vigenère archéologue (Paris: Droz, 1939), p. 206.  56 Vigenère, Les Décades. Vigenère took his inspiration from his predecessors, and more particularly from Giraldi and Lazius, despite his criticism of them, and also took up Herodian’s text: ‘c’est une coutume

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When confronted by the iconography of sarcophagi, Vigenère was astonished by their ‘bizarre inventions’ and the heterogeneous objects buried in the tombs inspired his careless remark: ‘See how much imagination and curiosity [there was] to bury all of that with oneself!’.57 But among previous humanists, the pagans’ sensitivity that still persisted in the Christian ritual always prevailed — once these humanists had specified that the soul is immortal and that the body of the dead man, also destined for resurrection, must be honoured as a living person, even if the most rigorously religious humanists thought that funerary rites, if they were useful only to the survivors ‘by accident’, and not to the dead man ‘per se’, at least provided some helpful consolation to the living. 58 In other words, as Du Tillet said very directly on the subject of the royal procession which always made its way towards Saint-Denis, this ‘representation’, still had the intention of ‘moving the people to honour the body enclosed in the coffin’.59 ** * Yet, obviously, the domain in which the ancient model was most visibly transmitted to the Renaissance was that of funerary monuments and décor, where iconography and the terminology of the ancient model was most marked. Ancient rituals would not have tempted popes, princes, and the powerful, who were their almost exclusive users, if the beauty of ancient excavations and the research of ancient ways of life had not gone hand-in-hand with the work of imaginative aux Romains de canoniser ceux de leur Empereur…’ (‘it is a custom among the Romans to canonize their Emperor’, cols 880 ff.). Simultaneously, engravings attempted to reconstruct the monumentpyre of the apotheosis or the ‘consecratio’ according to Ligorio and well-known medals presented in Du Choul, Discours de la religion des Anciens Romains, and Orsini and Agostin, Familiæ Romanæ 1577, cols 876–80. For the posthumous editions whose text and illustration of these pages were not noticeably modified in 1606, 1615 and 1617, see Metral, Blaise de Vigenère archéologue, pp. 254–55. The ‘Annotations’ also adopted Porro’s engravings, but Vigenère hardly seems to have appreciated the engraver’s spirit (nor that of Porcacchi’s text), and carried the responsibility of having introduced them to his own bookseller (a usual author’s approach): ‘Je ne pense pas que personne me veuille imputer de chercher quelque bruit ny reputation par telles sortes de battelleries, qui sont plustost un vain et frivole jouet de personnes oisives, qu’aucune satisfaction de gens doctes, ausquels tout mon principal but seroit de plaire. Parquoy je les en remetray s’il leur plaist au libraire qui s’est elargi en cela, pensant leur faire un plus agreable service’ (‘I don’t think anyone would want to charge me with searching for some news or reputation for such types of battelleries, which are rather a vain and frivolous plaything of idle people than a source of satisfaction for learned people, for whom my principal aim would be to please. For this reason, I refer them to a bookseller (if they wish) who has experience in this field, in the hope of furnishing them with a more pleasurable service’; 1583, cols 886–87).  57 ‘Voyez un peu quelle fantaisie et curiosité d’ensevelir tout cela avec soy!’ Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 876.  58 This is what Chasseneux remembered, with the aid of citations from the Bible, from Saint Augustine and from other fathers of the Church, or from the imperatives of the Spanish Dominican Jean de Torquemada (vol. 2, chap. 6, p. 87), and he found that there were many good things (multa valde excellentia) in the funerals of contemporary notables, as they permitted the giving of alms to the poor and the ‘gathering of numerous Christians’ for prayer. As a corollary, funerals allowed the Church to conserve its decorum; according to Chasseneux, it was thus necessary to search and reflect on ‘l’origine de telles pompes’, vol. 2, chap. 6.  59 ‘esmouvoir le peuple à honorer ledit corps clos au cercueil’, Du Tillet, Recueil des Roys de France, p. 244.

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erudites like Ligorio, and the efforts of all those who preceded or accompanied him in this long process. Novelists and poets, even historians of antiquity, did not just echo what artists and architects envisaged, or what they themselves had already imitated. They also contributed to creating a desire to imagine something else, to dream of new forms, often born of ancient interpretations, and gave an entirely new extension to artists’ creations, as they all worked, for example, on a unique sepulchre project with its funeral and ceremonial programme, real or imaginary by the planned iconography. Giraldi had understood that he could not treat antique funerals without methodically studying the manner of transporting the body, of burying it, of choosing the ceremonies with which it was to be surrounded, and the places where everyone assembled. But, like his contemporaries, he depended on the meaning given to Greek and Latin words. These words gave variety to the sepulchre’s forms, as they often belonged to other domains, and needed to be precisely specified as ‘funerary’: vases of varying sizes (vasa or vascular sepulchralia), urns or pots of all sorts (urna, olla), small columns (colunella), varieties of chests and coffrets (arca, arcella, arcula) or ‘dressed panels’ (plutei), ‘little beds’ (lectuli), pyramids, obelisks, colossi, sarcophagi, tombs, crypts or catacombs (conditoria),60 mausoleums, and Christian cemeteries. Giraldi also dealt with diverse materials, all things which would inspire the creation of renaissance sepulchres.61 For his part, Lazius classified sepulchres according to the dignity accorded to the deceased, distinguishing royal or imperial funerals, and honorific funerals for citizens who merited the respect of the homeland (funus censorium) from those of the ensemble of pagan peoples, without a monument (funera gentilia).62 Lemaire de Belges dedicated a special chapter to funerary monuments and Rabelais used the same words to describe a funerary décor as ‘polyphilesque’,63 deriving from Herodian humanism and contemporary archaeology, words which Francesco Colonna had brought together. In a very organized manner, he condensed universal words-objects-images, enough to simply signify, at this date, the dead hero’s ‘deification’,64 thus bringing together all the  60 Which he had seen in Rome and Baia. He had seen catacombs in Verona, where Lazius would also see them in 1551.  61 Giraldi, De sepulchris (1539), chaps i-xiii. The 1696 annotated edition (pp. 676–772), with engravings by E. Boitard, illustrated all of these forms (p. 685). The use of marble and polychrome must be considered as an antique practice which was increasingly used in Italy, then in Catherine de Médicis’s France; see Geneviève Bresc-Bautier, ‘Catherine de Médicis: la passion du marbre’, in Sabine Frommel and G. Wolf (eds), Il mecenatismo di Caterina de’ Medici (Venice: Marsilio, 2008), pp. 251–77.  62 Lazius, Commentariorum, p. 420.  63 An ironic word used by Guichard (Funerailles, p. 495) to describe everything that inspired Francesco Colonna’s Poliphile, like Perceforest, Alector, the Amadis. On the funerary character of Colonna, see Martine Furno, Une ‘fantaisie’ sur l’antique: le goût pour l’épigraphie funéraire dans l’Hypnerotomachia Poliphili de F. Colonna (Geneva: Droz, 2003).  64 Rabelais implicitly evokes a consecratio of the military and political person that was Guillaume de Langey, his patron, who died in 1543, on an island in the afterworld, the Island of the Macraeons: an old Macrobe [according to Herodotus, the Macrobes — of ‘long life’ — (Thalie, III. 24), conserving their dead forever in glass vases so as to always remember them and their ‘image’] welcomed the arrivals and made them discover, by the same ‘forêt umbrageuse et deserte’ which opened the

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hopes which, in the Renaissance, animated both the powerful and the artist in their dreams of death. This inspiration, very close to the pagan concept of death, fittingly enriched the emotive, collective, and spectacular nature of ceremonies. Research on recreating funerals with new gestures and monuments appropriate to current tastes would soon figure in funerals in France and throughout Europe. Yet it is also worthwhile to examine carefully the Latin and Herodian words65 that contributed to their imagining of new funerals. They were all ambiguous, changing according to whether the author or artist knew the Egyptians a little or not at all, and had some idea of their monuments’ forms. The first Latin word — consecratio — which figures on the emperors’ medals and coins,66 perfectly conveys the sacred and collective character which had moved humanists. As for the Latin deificare, it seems to date from the Christian period, when it appears in Augustine’s City of God. Naturally used more often without humour, although this may have been included, sixteenth-century French erudites, from Du Choul to Vigenère, usually preferred to translate consecration as ‘to canonize’ rather than as ‘to deify’, even when they translated Herodian. This confusion tells us a lot about the rapid assimilation, at least mentally, of pagan ritual. There is another confusion: in humanists’ Latin, as in French, ‘sepulchre’ (Lat: sepulc(h)rum) is understood either as tomb, tombstone, coffin, or even as the pyre if it is conceived as a built pedestal. Herodian’s Latin text does not discuss a pyre but rather a suggestus (‘something of a quadrangle with equal sides, in the form of a dwelling’: in the Greek tetragônon ti kai isopleuron […] ev schêma oikêmatos),67 a small shrine with increasingly superimposed small levels quite funerary Poliphile, ‘plusieurs obelisces, Pyramides, monumens, et sepulchres antiques, avecques inscriptions et epitaphes divers, les uns en lettres Hiéroglyphicques, les aultres en languaige Ionicque, les aultres en langue Arabicque, Agarene, et aultres’ (‘several antique obelisks, pyramids, monuments, and sepulchres, with diverse inscriptions and epitaphs, some in hieroglyphics and others in the Ionic language, and still others in Arabic, Agarene, among others’); in François Rabelais, Le Quart Livre, in Œuvres complètes, ed. by M. Huchon, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), p. 598, Quart Livre, chap. 25 (1548–1552).  65 We refer particularly to consecratio*, apotheosis, deify, canonize*; sepulchre; tabernaculum-tabernacle*; lectus-lit de parement, bed; suggestus-suggest; pyramid; obelisk; hieroglyphic; aquila-eagle; mausoleum; column. The asterisks above indicate the presence of these words in the translation of Herodian by Du Choul, Discours de la religion des Anciens Romains, which seems to have long been the most-used edition in France. Many of these words are ambiguous with diverse uses, notably in the manner in which authors understood Herodian’s text, were informed by Egyptian monuments with a relative exactitude, or to identify quickly antique practices with those of contemporaries.  66 Much-collected by Du Choul and Fulvio Orsini. Before the imperial era, Cicero had used the Greek apotheosis, as did Strabo and Herodian.  67 Herodian, IV. 1, 6. Compare Porcacchi’s loose translation: ‘un pergolo quadro co’ lati eguali, fatto in forma di tabernacol’ (Porcacchi, Funerali Antichi, p. 31). Guichard’s translation (Guichard, Funerailles, pp. 176–79), on the other hand, is more exact in its casual manner: ‘au Champ de Mars, au milieu duquel, à l’endroit le plus large et commode, s’eslevoit je ne sçay quelle charpenterie, en forme d’un tel edifice, quarrée, et ayant ses faces esgales, bastie de grosses pieces de bois, et n’estant remplie par le dedans que de fagots, broussailles et autres matieres seiches […] Au dessus du premier estage, y en avoit un autre […] ayant les portes et fenestres ouvertes d’une part et d’autre, mais un peu plus petit que le premier, puis un troisiesme, et un quatriesme toujours moindre que le dessous, jusques au dernier’ (‘on the Campus Martius, in the middle of which, in the largest and most comfortable place, was raised I don’t know what carpentry, in the form of such a square edifice, and having equal sides, built of large

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filled with flammable materials which, in a final act, were set aflame once the ‘image’ of the deceased68– or even the emperor’s body itself — had been left on its bed on the first level (second ‘floor’). Bestowed with doors and windows, the ‘tabernacle’ (Latin tabernaculum) was also topped with smaller and smaller levels. This word, ‘tabernacle’, is very ambiguous in renaissance Latin, as it is in French; Flavio Biondo and, later, Poliziano used it to translate Herodian’s Greek oikêma as ‘a little edifice in the form of a house’, and this is fitting in its approximation of the initial notion of ‘tent’ (Latin tabernaculum)69 where one laid the lectus or the lit de parement on which the body or effigy was placed. Giraldi endorsed this translation of Poliziano,70 even if it seems quite shocking since, in the vernacular, this term ‘tent’ could be confused with tabernacle which, from the twelfth century onward, designated a small shrine kept in the mind of Christians, for the preservation of the ciborium.71 In any case, this humanist usage of the word in a funerary context was much more widespread than one might imagine.72 It is the same for ‘suggest’ (Latin suggestus) which usually designated the stone pedestal (where there was a pulpit or platform from which one spoke)73 but which is often confused in texts on ancient funerals with the ‘tabernacle’s base, or even with a small pyramidal construction from which the eagle (the aquila) flew away when everything was set aflame at the end of the apotheosis. The confusion deepened during the sixteenth century, when the general form of the ‘suggest’ began to be confused both with one of the levels (‘the tabernacle’) and with a ‘pyramid’ because of its form of diminishing levels atop a square base. Undoubtedly translating Herodian erroneously, Chasseneux and Guichard seem to have believed that an obelisk or a pyramid — even a column — provided the

pieces of wood, and not being filled on the inside except for bundles of twigs, scrub and other dry materials […] Above the first floor, there was another […] having its doors and windows open on each side, but a little smaller than the first, then a third, and a fourth that was still smaller than that below it, until the last’). But he was wrong to believe that the emperor’s ‘carroche’ [‘le grand chariot’, a humorous word with which to designate the corpse’s mode of transport, the bed or stretcher] was ‘on the gable’ (‘sur le pignon’) as at the top of a pyre.  68 As it was in Herodian, since Septimius Severus died in England and his sons returned only his ashes, not his body, to Rome.  69 It is possible that this image had contributed to the form of certain funerary dais.  70 Giraldi, Opera omnia (1696), book I, chap. xvi, pp. 757–58.  71 But the notion of a tent is justified by the allusion to the Jews’ ‘tent’ in the desert, a kind of ‘portable sanctuary’, as Littré described it.  72 See for example Barthélemy Aneau, Alector (Lyon: P. Fradin, 1560; ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine (Geneva: Droz, 1996), who spoke in 1560 of the ‘tabernacle of glass’ which conserved the body of his hero, Franc Gal, like a reliquary (fol. 150v and notes on pp. 815–16), taking inspiration from Herodian’s description of the Ethiopians’ sepulchres, either in its reprise by Giraldi, De sepulchris (1539), p. 46, or in Pierre Saliat’s translation, Herodotus III. 24, 1556, fol. lxix r. A little earlier, Guillaume Aubert’s adaptation of the Douziesme livre d’Amadis de Gaule offered a ‘Knight enchanted inside a Glass Vase’, and the corresponding engraving of the knight held by a sort of pieta, both of them captured in a closed vase on circular tiers, surrounded by very high candles. Yet none of their contemporaries thought of catholic tabernacle when they read these texts.  73 A learned usage which was not uncommon: see Aneau, Alector, fols 115 and 136r, and notes pp. 736 and 800 of the 1996 edition.

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place where the body was temporarily kept before being laid in the tomb after its cremation.74 The pyramid was most often conceived of as a small, more or less flattened obelisk placed on a square base, often topped by a motif (a ball, a winged statue, or something else), and perhaps covered with hieroglyphics or, if not, with geometric designs. The pyramid was omnipresent as a requisite funerary symbol. Many engravings from Parisian, Lyonnais, or other printers present us with a collection of variously sized, pointed or flattened, more or less square-based funerary monuments that one could easily call obelisks or pyramids according to the terminology of the time, although the monuments were neither of these things.75 One should not forget that in French, the word ‘pyramid’ was still used in 1588 to designate a church’s high, slender spire.76 The forms of the pyramid and the obelisk were gradually distinguished thanks to a better understanding of the reality of Egyptian structures. This was true for learned Italian artists like Primaticcio or Nicolo dell’Abate, who loved to represent them in their landscapes, along with the common rotunda form, in which was mixed not only little pyramids and large obelisks, but also colossal columns.77 Based on the model of the great ‘with histories’ Roman columns,  74 Chasseneux and Guichard. Interpretation confirmed by Houël, Arthemise, chap. ix, ‘Comme le corps du roy Mausole fut tiré de l’obelisque puis bruslé aveq grandes cerimonies, et de ce que dict la royne Arthemise au paravant que boyre la cendre de son mari’ (‘Just as the body of king Mausolos was drawn from the obelisk then burned with great ceremony, and of what Queen Artemisia said before drinking her husband’s ashes’). Two of the drawings created for Houël (Nicolas Houël, Trente huit dessins et cartons pour l’histoire de Catherine de Médicis [title given in the eighteenth century], BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105) surmise this: Figure 8.1, where the obelisk appears to the right of the mausoleum, where the king’s coffin was laid; and Figure 8.4, where a Corinthian column, topped with the imperial eagle taking flight (like the soul) according to Herodian, appears next to the great pyre where Mausolos was burned (in the sixteenth-century manner, this pyre was conceived in the manner of the Roman pyre in Woeiriot’s album, taken from Giraldi in 1556). The sonnet (Figure 8.2) explains: ‘Cet ouvrage advancé, la Royne commanda / Qu’on tirast le feu Roy hors du grand Obelisque, / Pour suivant la coustume et la façon antique / estre en cendre reduict […] On lui fit un autel […] Où le Roy fut posé au spectacle publique / du peuple…’ (‘This advanced work, the Queen commanded / That we draw the defunct King out of the great Obelisk, / To follow the antique custom and fashion / and to ashes reduced […] We made him an altar […] Where the king was placed in public spectacle / of the people…’).  75 See the French Poliphile of 1546, where the figure of fol. 5 is particularly ambiguous since it labels a series of conical tiers and a spire as a ‘pyramid’; but we find ‘obelisk’ conforms better to that which we understand as an obelisk today, in fol. 10, under the name of a ‘pedestal’ with ‘three faces’, ‘carved with Egyptian letters’, fol. 44, under the label ‘pedestal’, and fol. 85, under the label ‘grand obelisk’. The motif of the ‘pyramid-obelisk’ continued to play a role in the Eloge funèbre de Henri II, in lat. and fr., 1560, written in Latin by Pierre Pascal: see Isabelle de Conihout and Pascal Ract-Madoux, ‘Veuves, pénitentes et tombeaux. Reliures françaises à motifs funèbres de Catherine de Médicis à Henri III’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 225–28 and fig. 6.  76 Bourgueville always used the term ‘pyramid’ to designate church spires in Caen in his Les recherches et antiquitez […] de Normandie (Caen: imprimerie de J. le Fèvre, 1588), passim. We must also not forget Isidore of Sevilla’s (erroneous) etymology of ‘pyramid’ which was the Greek pur, meaning fire or flame, hence its use to describe soaring forms; the same in Thevet for the towers of Notre-Dame de Paris, ‘les plus grandes pyramides du monde’ (the biggest pyramids in the world).  77 See G. Monnier and W. McAllister Johnson, who compare Antoine Caron’s ‘funerary column’ or ‘funerary pillar’ with Giulio Romano’s cycle, the Triomphes de Scipion, where we see Artemisia swallowing Mausolos’s ashes. The authors note that this motif was quite commonplace for Primaticcio and Germain Pilon (Geneviève Monnier and William McAllister Johnson, ‘Caron

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such as Trajan’s column to which Giraldi refers,78 at first the ‘column’ was not developed as a triumphant or colossal funerary motif, but, rather, as columns of lesser height,79 used for the urns containing the kings’ and other notable individuals’ hearts — as we see in the heart monuments of François II, Henri II, Anne de Montmorency or Henri III.80 For its part, literary fiction imagined a ‘high marble column, honoured with an infinite number of excellent epitaphs’ to bear Romeo and Juliet’s coffin,81 or bronze columns for the imaginary tomb of the great Prior François de Guise.82 The Valois Rotunda, added to the royal sepulchres of Saint-Denis, which Catherine de Médicis had planned since the death of Henri II (d. 1559), was destined to rival the ancient mausoleum. It was simply the logical and longawaited result of all the successive confusions and clarifications on this matter. Artists and writers needed to work hard to satisfy the Queen; and although the monument disappeared less than a century after its conception, it so mobilized the imagination at this time that the term ‘mausoleum’ (already in use in

antiquaire’, Revue de l’Art, 14 (1991), 28). In Houël’s Dessins, BnF. Est. Rés, this corresponds with the sonnet ‘Donc le corps consumé et tout reduit en cendres…’ (Thus the body was consumed and everything was reduced to ashes; Gallica, final view, 97). But, above all, it is the simultaneity of these different motifs that is striking, for example the two exemplary drawings in Primaticcio’s Histoire d’Aréthuse (drawings at the Louvre), proposed between 1545 and 1553 for Anet’s stained-glass windows (Bernadette Py, ‘Deux projets de Primatice’, in Sabine Frommel and Flaminia Bardati (eds), Primatice architecte (Paris: Picard, 2010), pp. 245–50).  78 Colossal columns (Lat. ingentes), like the ‘smallest columns’ appear in the list of ‘various forms’ of funerary monuments that Giraldi provides (Giraldi, De sepulchris (1539), p. 5; Giraldi, Opera omnia (1696), book 1, p. 722, with an engraving of these motifs, p. 685).  79 It seems to us that use of this particular funerary motif in France can be attributed to the influence of Giraldi’s De sepulchris, along with Roman models.  80 The practice of separating the princes’ and kings’ hearts from their bodies already existed in France in the fourteenth century, but the motif of an urn posed atop a very high base appeared for François Ier (d. 1547), (P. Bontemps, 1551, Saint-Denis). It became the three graces, posed in ‘Triple Hecate’ to form a column supporting Henri II’s urn (d. 1559), (commissioned from G. Pilon in 1561, in the Celestines and currently in the Louvre). A high column on a pedestal was created for François II (d. 1560), (1562–1570, commissioned from Primaticcio, designed by Gaignières, and currently in Saint-Denis), and a twisting Solomonic column surrounded by the three virtues on a marble base for the urn of Anne de Montmorency’s heart (d. 1667), ( J. Bullant and B. Prieur, 1578–1582, in the Celestines and currently in the Louvre). Another Solomonic column was created for Henri III (d. 1589), (commissioned from Epernon and executed 1635, design by Gaignières, Saint-Cloud).  81 ‘Haute colonne de marbre, honorée d’une infinité d’excellens épitaphes’. In his translation of the Amants de Vérone, Pierre Boaistuau (d. 1566), whose work, if not his acquaintance, was known to apothecary Nicolas Houël, invented the erection of this type of column for Romeo and Juliette’s tomb (Boiastuau, Histoires tragiques, 6 vols (Paris: [n. pub.], 1559), vol. 3, although this tomb did not exist in Bandello’s original Italian text.  82 François de Belleforest, La Pyrénée, pp. 155 and 158: after the presumed tomb of François de Lorraine, one discovers (p. 171) the ‘pedestal’ of the ‘grand tomb’ of his younger brother (the Grand Prieur, François, second of this name) ‘tout entouré de lettres Hiérogliphiques et les soubassements estoient de Jaspe le plus beau’ (‘entirely encircled with hieroglyphic letters and its foundations were of the most beautiful Jasper’); the ‘bronze pillars’ each supported one of the ‘four virtues which are the ornament of our soul’ (‘quatre vertus qui sont l’ornement de nostre ame’) and the armed knight rests on his ‘bed’, ‘pleuré de quatre belles Nymphes’ (‘mourned by four beautiful Nymphs’). The bronze pillars supporting the virtues somehow once more separated the heart from the monument of Henri II, once in the church of the Celestines and now in the Louvre.

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Italian), only appeared in France at this time, permanently entering the funerary domain while still being a creation ‘à l’antique’.83 The visit to the ‘mausoleums of Saint-Denis’ quickly became a sort of obligatory initiation to the voyages and dreams of the next world. First of all, the mausoleums were tied to female widowhood in France, and were generalized to the point of gradually losing their initial specificity, later retaining only their element of funerary construction ‘à l’antique’. Literary fiction accompanied, even preceded in a significant way,84 the realization of monuments like the mausoleum of Henri II, which was of particular interest between 1562 and 1571.85 In the mausoleum, the essential characteristics of contemporary projects are recognizable; their forms and privileged materials depended on a group of artists and writers who worked for or near the Queen. One labours hard to identify them in the sonnets or the cartoons which Nicolas Houël assembled,86 but they were necessarily more numerous than has been said. We know little of the iconography intended to ornament the Valois Rotunda’s interior and exterior, and there remains much to be said about the diverse and anonymous inventions superimposed, but often of great quality in Houël’s second collection.87 The sonnets were themselves intermediaries between Houël’s initial prose projects and the drawings,88 but perhaps not always. Antiquarian knowledge is often more evident and more precise in the drawings than in the sonnets, and it is grander in the sonnets than in the former prose. La Croix du Maine had barely begun his list of ‘excellens poètes’ and the artist’s own references in the drawings are not sufficient to be identifiable. In any case, we do not know whether it was an unknown poet or an anonymous artist who contributed these new details to this phase of the Rotunda project, nor under what circumstances. To better understand the preparations for the Valois Rotunda and the entourage of sponsors and artists who were invited to it, it would be necessary to exploit the sources that Houël gives us with admirable honesty in his own Ms. fr. 306 of L’Histoire d’Artémise. Houël was self-taught and rather confused about the

 83 Not just in the texts, but also in actual projects, ‘mausoleums’ were to multiply: see the heroic ‘mausoleum’ of Marie-Félicie des Ursins which was raised in the chapel of the Visitation in Moulins for her husband, Henri II de Montmorency, in 1632.  84 As we see in the heroic consecration according to Rabelais (1548, see above note 64), and Boaistuau’s history of Romeo and Juliette (1559, see note 81).  85 See Saint-Denis’ basilica, pyramids, tombs, cenotaphs, and mausoleums: a true renaissance funerary programme ‘à l’antique’ in the Printemps of Yver ( Jacques Yver, Le Printemps d’Yver (Paris: J. Ruelle, 1572) ed. by M.-A. Maignan, in collaboration with M. M. Fontaine (Geneva: Droz, 2015), fols 81–83v; and pp. lxxvi-lxxxvii); and in the Pyrénée (Belleforest, La Pyrénée et Pastorale amoureuse), or L’inceste innocent (Nicolas Mary Desfontaines, 1638, beginning and finishing with ‘les Mausolées des Roys à St-Denis’).  86 Houël, Arthemise; Houël, Dessins.  87 A satisfactory list of places is still lacking, despite some premature attempts, like that of Valérie Auclair (‘De l’exemple antique à la chronique contemporain, L’histoire de la Royne Arthemise de l’invention de Nicolas Houël’, Journal de la Renaissance, 1 (2000), 155–88).  88 The sonnets, as we know, were preceded by ‘huitains’ (see the correction of the word ‘huitain’, crossed out in the initial text to be corrected as ‘sonnet’ in the marginal note of BnF. Ms. fr. 306, Houël, Arthemise); huitains belonged more properly to epitaphs. Sonnets, on the other hand, permitted more detailed descriptions of scenes.

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Figure 8.1. The obelisk and king’s tomb in the Mausoleum, presented by Artemisia to her son, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 95.

truly great scholarly treatises on funerals and those which were inspired by them. Although Du Choul’s medals and coins,89 like Alciato’s Emblems,90 (both of which Houël read) had been in the public domain since their publication, other sources which Houël claims to have read are more surprising. These sources were all the more reputable since they had been dedicated to Catherine de Médicis: for example, the translation of Antonio de Guevara’s Lives of the Ten Roman Emperors by Antoine Allègre, a lettered gentleman who called himself the Queen’s ‘vassal’, and offered his translation to her in 1556, during Henri II’s lifetime.91 Yet, to translate both Herodian’s suggestus and tabernaculum, Allègre concluded with a veritable anachronism, which represents the funerary imagination of its time: ‘a throne of stone, made of levels around it, rising in a pyramid’.92  89 Du Choul, Religion des ancient Romains. These medals showed, among others, chariots pulled by elephants or oxen.  90 See the article by Monnier and W. McAllister Johnson, who link to these two evident sources the famous figure of the ‘Ancienne Sabine… ou bien le vray entretien de fidelité’ (‘old Sabine…or the true keeping up of fidelity’, as Aneau said in the 1549 translation of Alciato) and other sources which allow a better dating of this great motif spreading like wildfire (Monnier and McAllister Johnson, ‘Caron antiquaire’, 23–30).  91 Houël, Arthemise. Among his other readings, Houël indicates the title and the name ‘Guevare’, fol. 10 in the alphabetical list of works which he consulted. See Marie Madeleine Fontaine, ‘Un lecteur de Pierre Boaistuau, l’apothicaire Nicolas Houël’, Littérature et science à la Renaissance. Essays in honour of Stephen Bamforth Nottingham French Studies, 56 (3) (2017), 272–84.  92 ‘Un throsne de pierre, faict de degrez aux environs, montans en pyramide’, that is ‘un trône fait de marches sur tous les côtés, et qui vont en diminuant vers le haut’ (‘a throne made of steps on all sides, and which

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Figure 8.2. Sonnet of the five workers of the Mausoleum, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 94.

This is what Houël preferred to Du Choul: every construction with successively diminishing levels was still a pyramid. Even if this translation had a certain visual power, it perpetuated the formal confusions highlighted above. The stepped cupola which was to crown the projects for Henri II’s mausoleum, such as is described in a sonnet from Houël’s collection, is also called a ‘pyramid’ (Figure 8.1).93 continued diminishing towards the top’). Guevara, Decade contenant les vies, p. 390. The translator’s dedication to Catherine de Médicis, in Henri II’s lifetime, made a long eulogy to the historians who ‘enseignent aux princes humanité, clemence, justice, prudence et autres telles vertus’ (‘taught humanity, clemency, justice, prudence, and other such virtues to the princes’, as Houël would do in similar words).  93 In Houël, Dessins, ‘Ces ouvriers en quarré ce sepulcre ordonnerent…’(‘These workers in this square sepulchre ordered…’ (see Figure 8.2); no. 36 in the eighteenth-century explanations, with the first word poorly turned out) currently precedes the engraving of the finished mausoleum, but presented as a section to show the king’s coffin at the centre (see Figure 8.1a); Jean Ehrmann, Antoine Caron

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Here, the construction work was shared by six ‘workers’, masons, architects and sculptors (Figure 8.2).94 The fifth of these was charged with crowning the monument with a cupola-‘pyramid’ of 24 steps. The sixth worker was to place a horse-driven chariot above it — as on the former Mausoleum of Hadrian which had become the Castel Sant’Angelo: […] Un cinquiesme95 survint, qui bravement monta De vingt quatre degrez plus qu’on ne le planta96 L’excessive hauteur d’une grand Piramide Et Pithis, pour le six, dont la dexterité Assit avec un Char des Chevaux mis en bride Sur le plus hault sommet de son extremité. Another text contemporary to Allègre and Houël — who, in 1571, was better informed on the real size of the pyramids, which he corrected — is at pains to specify the difference, but also immediately creates a new confusion by placing the ‘tabernacle’ of the Campus Martius inside a church. As the text praises the fictive tombs of the Guises, everything seems correct, but the detour through antiquity is distorted and useless since it does not relate to the same tabernacle.97 (Paris: Flammarion, 1986), no. 59); but this sonnet better fits the drawing of the elevation of the finished mausoleum, conserved in the Louvre’s Cabinet des Dessins (reproduced in Monnier and McAllister Johnson, ‘Caron antiquaire’, 23–30). The sonnet that should be tied to the presentation of the mausoleum in section is in fact missing in BnF. Ms. Res. Ad-105.  94 Houël, Dessins, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105 (Figure 8.2). The sonnet names the first five: Scopas, Lotharis, Thimothée, Briagés, and Pithis. Thimothée is precisely one of the names which Vitruvius gives to a sculptor in his passage on Artemisia, translated in French by Jean Martin, 1547, fol. 22v.  95 While all the ‘workers’ of the construction ‘où l’exquis de leur art ces maistres massonnèrent’ (‘where these masters practised the excellence of their art’) were bestowed with antique names in the sonnet, the creator of the cupola-pyramid is the only one who remains anonymous, which is interesting for the chronology of the Valois Rotunda’s creation and for identifying this still unknown architect. We know that the model of this cupola came from the Pantheon, from Bramante’s S. Pietro in Montorio or from S. Giovanni dei Fiorentini, a building dear to Catherine de Médicis. See the analyses of Christoph Frommel, ‘Primaticcio architetto in Francia’, in S. Frommel and F. Bardati (eds), Francesco Primaticcio (Milan: Electa, 2005), pp. 148–71), and the restorations brought by Sabine Frommel, in Sabine Frommel and G. Wolf, (eds), Il mecenatismo di Caterina de’ Medici (Venice: Marsilio, 2008), p. 486, fig. 24, axiometry in which the ‘steps’ are quite visible; see Sabine Frommel, ‘L’architecture sacrée: la chapelle de Diane de Poitiers à Anet et la Rotonde des Valois’, in Primatice architecte (Paris: Picard, 2010), pp. 193–226, with several figures of axiometric restitutions (figs 192, 196) or of a model (fig. 199), and the diverse drawings of Scamozzi, Jean Marot, and anon. (figs 182–84).  96 We understand: ‘the 24 steps more than those which we’d initially drawn’ (‘de 24 degrés (marches) de plus que ce qu’on avait dressé initialement’).  97 Belleforest, La Pyrénée et Pastorale amoureuse, p. 155: ‘Au plus profond du temple vous apercevez une voute [une voûte de rotonde italienne, à la fois antique et contemporaine?]. Et derrière le pourpris estoit dressé un tabernacle en forme de tombeau, lequel ressembloit une Pyramide, non qu’il eust la hauteur monstrueuse que l’on nous dit estre en ces folies des roys Egyptiens à Memphis et Babilonne Egyptienne, mais qui, avec l’industrie de l’ouvrier, monstroit la gentillesse de l’ouvrage mis dans le plus saint et honorable lieu du temple’ (‘At the very back of the temple you perceive a vault [a vault of the Italian rotunda, simultaneously ancient and contemporary?]. And behind the enclosure was placed a tabernacle in the form of a tomb, which resembled a Pyramid, not that it had the monstrous height that we are told were achieved in those follies of the Egyptian kings in Memphis and Egyptian

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Figure 8.3. The rhinoceros chariot, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 35.

The sense of the sacred and of death are nonetheless both essential and perfectly preserved. It was thus not so simple to think about ancient funerals which honoured one’s heroes, as does the very honourable Belleforest (1583), who might well have been one of Houël’s poets. As for Vigenère, who had not yet published his own commentaries on Titus Livius’s Decades, but who had already been cited by Houël, he allows us to identify many details a posteriori — notably the origin of the chariot pulled by rhinoceroses that figures in the sonnet as well as in a drawing of the funerary cortège, where it comes after a chariot pulled by elephants (Figure 8.3). Ce premier char passé, un autre le suivoit Trainé d’une façon et dolente, et tardive Par des Rhinocéros de grandeur excessive […]98 Babylon, but which, with the worker’s industry, showed the attraction of the work placed in the most holy and honourable place in the temple’).  98 Houël, Dessins, sonnet of the rhinoceros chariot which carried the king’s tableaux, depicting his victories, his cities, his love of peace and his wartime deeds (Gallica, view 56; eighteenth-century explication no. 8). The corresponding figure, now misplaced (Figure 8.3), is taken up again in a tapestry in the Mobilier national (signalled by Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, no. 22, but he does not reproduce the drawing). Houël did not invent the subject, as revealed later by Vigenère, who knew Rome well: it was related to a relief seen on a sarcophagus, ‘in the church of Santa Maria in Via’ in Rome, where ‘souloit estre représentée une femme en un chariot attelé de deux Rhinoceres [sic] menez par le nez comme un buffle, par un Faune qui les conduit, et de deux petits garçons montez dessus: un joueur de harpe marchant devant avec des hommes nus, et des filles de même, jusqu’à un autel pour y faire un sacrifice’ (‘used to be represented a female in a chariot pulled by two Rhinoceres [sic] led by the nose like a buffalo, by a Faun who drove them, and with two little boys mounted atop: a harpist marching

Chapter 8. Funera ry Rites a nd Mysteries

Figure 8.4. The king’s body in armour laid on the pyre, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad105, Gallica view 97.

One of the major problems for the illustrators of the History of Artemisia in the manuscripts of Nicolas Houël was the impossibility of satisfying both Christian representation and pagan ritual, since this latter was unacceptable for Henri II. The sonnets permanently took account of the numerous details proper to the funerals of a French king and, like the drawings, integrated themselves into the subtle games of the differences between antiquity and Christianity in order to avoid any risk of being accused of paganism. In this context, therefore, it is absolutely necessary to analyse the complementary nature of sonnet and drawing, to understand them and, in so far as is possible, to relate them to each other. Their similarities are particularly visible, for example, in the case of the exhibition of the deceased, where it was necessary to make the French royal distinction between the body and the effigy [Plate VIII].99 Cremation was even more difficult to treat, as it was not acceptable to Henri II; this forced ahead of naked men, and girls the same, until they arrived at the altar to make a sacrifice there’). It is about the presence of these images on ancient sepulchres that Vigenère asked himself, not without irony, (‘A quelle fin tout cela, il faudrait le deviner!’ (‘To what end is all this, it must be guessed!’) (Vigenère, Les Décades, col. 865). The elephant-pulled chariot, which this sonnet logically follows in the order of the sonnets, contrary to the misplaced figures, is, on the other hand, widespread in the collections of antique medals (G. Du Choul or F. Orsini and A. Agostin).  99 Houël, Dessins, BnF. Ms. Res. Ad-105, fol. 8r. The artist clearly represents an effigy in the French manner: dressed, but soberly, and laid on a lit de parement under a dais, however the scene around the body more or less follows Herodian’s text: senators to the left, noble ladies to the right, and the king’s body is not pictured; he nonetheless adds to Herodian’s text with the presence of Catherine and her ladies before the ‘Roman senators’ (Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, no. 30).

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Figure 8.5. Artemisia, the mathematicians and the astrologers, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 85.

discrepancy with antiquity was rectified by the allegorical apparition of Fame, a figure à l’antique who is shown pouring consolatory water over the funeral pyre (Figure 8.4). Only the sonnet provides us with an explanation.100 But the History of Artemisia, whose possible role in the construction of the Valois Rotunda disappeared with the monument, has for a moment reconciled the essential aspect of the treatises on ancient funerals with a history-cum-creative fiction — that of the Queen of Caria — for the benefit of the current Queen’s true mourning, associating her, almost physically, with all of her character traits, her tastes, and her projects. Book I exhibited everything concerning the funeral proper, long and methodically insisting on the preparations and exhibition of   100 Houël, Dessins, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, fols 43v-44r (Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, no. 60; Gallica views 96–98). The artist represents the king in his armour just as he appears on his tomb (for which we saw the maquette above, fols 38v-39r; Ehrmann, Antoine Caron, no. 55; Figure 8.6), and he shows well, as does the sonnet, the ancient story of Mausolos, cremated on his grill (closer, even ornamented, to Saint Laurent’s grill as in Woeiriot’s album, followed by Porro in Porcacchi and others, than to an antique pyre). But the scene is dominated by a very graceful Fame who pours a little water and the grill is surrounded by young women: one carries a palm and a crown, while the other sets fire to the corpse; but, finally, only Houël’s own long account in his initial manuscript (Houël, Arthemise, chap. ix, fols 54v-55v), allows the viewer to understand all of the royal virtues who encircled this final pyre in the form of allegories and ancient gods, as they are not always obvious: Victory, Justice, Faith, Science, Piety accompanied by little children who throw flowers in the fire, Prudence, Peace, Honour, with their attributes, like Mercury with the terrestrial globe, while the Roman emperors’ eagle (per Herodian) who takes flight to the right of the top of the triumphal column, evoked the immortality of the king’s soul.

Chapter 8. Funera ry Rites a nd Mysteries

Figure 8.6. Artemisia receiving the model of the tomb of Mausolos, in Nicolas Houël, BnF. Est. Res. Ad-105, Gallica view 87.

the effigy on the lit de parement, the services of the priests and the sacrifices, the funerary meals, then on the diverse components of the ‘triumphal’ cortège which leads the body to the pyre amidst choirs of children, nobles, and women, accompanied by musicians, an order which approximately followed Herodian’s protocol. Book II organized the construction of the mausoleum itself, first highlighting the architect’s formation that the Queen, keen on mathematics and astrology,101 had given to her son (Figure 8.5). But it was the Queen herself who personally directed the project, and who, in a very informal way, organized the successive restricted meetings of scholars, artists, and architects in order in the first instance to obtain a model of the coffin surmounted by a statue of Henri II half-reclining in armour,102 and then to monitor the stages of the construction of the Rotunda itself, where the tomb would finally be placed (Figure 8.6). One can truly say that the two very distinct sources of ancient funerals — Herodian and Artemisia — merged in this ephemeral renaissance apotheosis of ancient funerals that was the Mausoleum of Saint-Denis.

  101 To calculate the best ‘sky’, the best conditions and the best placement for the mausoleum (Gallica, view 85 (Figure 8.5), explained in the sonnet; Gallica, view 86, vv. 8–14).   102 Gallica view 87 (Figure 8.6), explained in the sonnet; Gallica view 86, vv. 1–7.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF), Ms. fr. 306, Nicolas Houël, L’histoire de la Royne Arthemise de l’invention de Nicolas Houël, —— , BnF. Estampes Res. Ad-105, Nicolas Houël, Trente huit dessins et cartons pour l’histoire de Catherine de Médicis [title given in the eighteenth century] Early Printed Books

Alessandri, Alessandro /Alexander ab Alexandro, Genialium dierum libri sex (Rome: I. Mazochio, 1501; Paris: Ch. Guillard, 1539) Aneau, Barthélemy, Alector (Lyon: P. Fradin, 1560; ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine, Geneva: Droz, 1996) Belleforest, François de, La Pyrénée et Pastorale amoureuse (Paris: G. Mallot, 1571) Boccace, De mulieribus claris (Ferrara: L. de Rubeis, 1455; Paris: Simon de Colines, 1521) Boiastuau, Pierre, Histoires tragiques, 6 vols (Paris: [n. pub.], 1559) Bourgueville, Les recherches et antiquitez […] de Normandie (Caen: imprimerie de J. le Fèvre, 1588) Chasseneux, Barthélemy de, Catalogus gloriæ mundi (Lyon: Denys de Harsy, 1529); cited in the 1603 edn (Frankfurt: J. Saurius, 1603), vol. 2 Colonna, Francesco, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1499); facsimile, ed. by M. Ariani and M. Gabriele (Milan: Adelphi, 1998), 2 vols. French trans. by Jean Martin, Discours du songe de Poliphile (Paris: J. Kerver, 1546) Desfontaines, Nicolas Mary, L’inceste innocent (Paris: T. Quinet, 1638) Du Choul, Guillaume, Discours de la religion des Anciens Romains (Lyon: G. Roville, 1555–1556) Du Tillet, Jean, Recueil des Roys de France, leur couronne et maison (Paris: Jaques Du Puys, 1580); 1602 edn, ‘Funérailles et enterrements des Rois et Roynes de France’ (Paris: Houzé, 1602), pp. 235–50 Foresti, Jacopo Filippo/Jacques de Bergame, De plurimis claris selectisque mulieribus (Ferrara: L. Rossi, 1497) Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio, De sepulchris et vario sepeliendi ritu, libellus (Basel: M. Isengrin, 1539); dedication from 1533 to G. F. Pico della Mirandola. Another edn in Opera omnia duobus tomis distincta (Antwerp: Hackium Boutesteyn, Vivre, Vander Aa and Luchtmans, 1696), De sepulchris, vol. 1, pp. 676–772 Guevara, Antonio, French translation by Antoine Allègre, Decade contenant les vies des empereurs Trajanus, Adrianus […], Severus, Bassianus […] Alexander, extraictes de plusieurs auteurs grecs, latins et espagnols, et mises en françois par Antoine Allegre (Paris: Vascosan Imprimeur du Roy, 1556); cited in the 1567 edn (Paris: Vascosan, 1567), pp. 389–90 Guichard, Claude, Funerailles et diverses manieres d’ensevelir des Rommains, Grecs, et autres nations, tant anciennes que modernes (Lyon: Jean de Tournes, 1581) Historiarum libri IX, Herodotus, Latin trans. by Lorenzo Valla [1474] (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1502); French trans. by Pierre Saliat, Histoire des Neuf livres des histoires de Herodote d’Alicarnasse (Paris: J. de Roigny, 1556); edn used, E. Talbot (Paris: 1864)

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Lazius, Wolfgang, Commentariorum Rei publicæ Romanæ… libri duodecim (Basel: Oporin, 1551), book 3, chap. xviii, pp. 420–38 Maffei, Raffaele/Volaterranus, Commentariorum urbanorum libri XXXVIII, vol. De philologia (Rome: J. Besicken, 1506); cited in the 1544 edn (Basel: Froben, 1544) Martin, Jean, Architecture ou Art de Bien Bastir de Marc Vitruve Pollion […], (Paris : Jacques Gazeau, 1547). Orsini, Fulvio and Antonio Agostin, Familiæ Romanæ quæ reperiuntur in antiquis numismatibus (Rome: M. Tramezini et G. de Angelis, 1577) Perrault, Claude, Les dix livres d’Architecture de Vitruve […] Seconde édition revue, corrigée et augmentée, (Paris : J.-B. Coignard, 1684) Poliziano, Angelo, translator of Herodian’s Greek Historiæ (Bologna: Plato de Benedictis, 1493; Lyon: S. Gryphe, 1533–1578; and Paris: Robert Estienne, 1544) Porcacchi, Tommaso, Funerali Antichi di diversi Popoli et Nationi; Forma, ordine, et pompe di sepolture, di essequie, di consecrationi antiche et d’altro, Descripti in Dialogo da Thomaso Porcacchi da Castiglione Arretino. Con le Figure in Rame di Girolamo Porro Padovano (Venice: Simon Calignani, 1574) Ravisius Textor / Jean Tixier de Ravisi, Officina, partim historiis, partim poeticis referta disciplini (Paris: P. Vidoue, 1532), chap. ‘De vario inhumandi ritu’ Ricchieri, Lodovico / Cœlius Rhodiginus, Antiquæ lectiones (Venice: Aldus Manutius, 1516) Suetonius, Vitæ XII Cæsarum, ed. by Ognibene Leoniceno (Rome: 1490); edn with the commentaries of Filippo Beroaldo (Bologna: B. Hector, 1493), and Marc’Antonio Sabellico (Venice: Bevilaqua, 1496); shared edn of the two commentaries (Venice: B. Zanni, 1500); Commentationes conditæ a Philippo Beroaldo in Suetonium Tranquillum. Additis quamplurimis annotamentis (Lyon: J. Frellon, 1548) Vigenère, Blaise de, ‘Annotations à la Première décade de Tite Live’, in Les Décades… mises en langue françoise, la première par Blaise de Vigenère, … avec des annotations et figures pour l’intelligence de l’antiquité romaine (Paris: Jaques du Puy, 1583), cols 837–89 Woeiriot, Pierre, Pinax iconicus (Lyon: Clemens Baldinus, 1556) Yver, Jacques, Le Printemps d’Yver (Paris: J. Ruelle, 1572); ed. by M.-A. Maignan with M. M. Fontaine (Geneva: Droz, 2015) Primary Sources

Brown, Elizabeth A. R., Cynthia Jane Brown, and Jean Luc Deuffic (eds), Les funérailles d’une reine, Anne de Bretagne, in Pecia le livre et l’écrit, 15 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012) Choque, Pierre, Récit des funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne précédé d’une complainte sur la mort de cette princesse et de sa genealogie, le tout composé par Bretaigne, son hérault d’armes, ed. by Lucien Merlet and Max. de Gombert (Paris: A. Aubry, 1858; repr. Slatkine, 1970) Lemaire de Belges, Jean, Des Anciennes pompes funeralles, Ms of 1507 copied in Pierre Sala, Les Antiquités de Lyon, BnF. Ms Fr. 5447 (c. 1511) ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine, Des anciennes pompes funeralles (Paris: Société des Textes Français Modernes, 2001) Rabelais, François, Le Quart Livre, in Œuvres complètes, ed. by M. Huchon, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), chaps 25–28, pp. 597–605

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Auclair, Valérie, ‘De l’exemple antique à la chronique contemporaine, L’histoire de la Royne Arthemise de l’invention de Nicolas Houël’, Journal de la Renaissance, 1 (2000), 155–88 Balsamo, Jean (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002) Bloem, Hélène, ‘The Processions and Decorations at the Royal Funeral of Anne of Brittany’, Bibliothèque d’humanisme et renaissance, 54 (1992), 131–60 Bresc-Bautier, Geneviève, ‘Catherine de Médicis: la passion du marbre’, in Sabine Frommel and G. Wolf (eds), Il mecenatismo di Caterina de’ Medici (Venice: Marsilio, 2008), pp. 251–77 Chatenet, Monique, ‘Quelques aspects des funérailles nobiliaires au XVIe siècle’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 37–54 Conihout, Isabelle de, and Pascal Ract-Madoux, ‘Veuves, pénitentes et tombeaux. Reliures françaises à motifs funèbres de Catherine de Médicis à Henri III’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 225–68 Cumont, Franz, Recherches sur le symbolisme funéraire des Romains (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1942) Ehrmann, Jean, Antoine Caron (Paris: Flammarion, 1986) Fontaine, Marie Madeleine, ‘Antiquaires et rites funéraires’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 329–55 —— , ‘Un lecteur de Pierre Boaistuau, l’apothicaire Nicolas Houël’, in Neil Kenny (ed.), Littérature et science à la Renaissance. Essays in Honour of Stephen Bamforth, Nottingham French Studies, 56 (3) (2017), 272–84 Frommel, Christoph, ‘Primaticcio architetto in Francia’, in S. Frommel and F. Bardati, Francesco Primaticcio (Milan: Electa, 2005), pp. 148–71 Frommel, Sabine, ‘L’architecture sacrée: la chapelle de Diane de Poitiers à Anet et la Rotonde des Valois’, in Primatice architecte (Paris: Picard, 2010), pp. 193–226 Frommel, Sabine and Flaminia Bardati (eds), Francesco Primaticcio (Milan: Electa, 2005) Frommel, Sabine and G. Wolf (eds), Il mecenatismo di Caterina de’ Medici (Venice: Marsilio, 2008) Furno, Martine, Une ‘fantaisie’ sur l’antique: le goût pour l’épigraphie funéraire dans l’Hypnerotomachia Poliphili de F. Colonna (Geneva: Droz, 2003) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, ‘La mort du prince: les funérailles de Pierre II de Bourbon (1503)’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 55–76 —— , ‘Anne de France, la mort et les corps saint’, in Th. Crépin-Leblond and M. Chatenet, Anne de France. Art et pouvoir en 1500 (Paris: Picard, 2014), pp. 37–50 Giesey, Ralph, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Girault, Pierre-Gilles, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition cat. château de Blois (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014) Metral, Denyse, Blaise de Vigenère archéologue (Paris: Droz, 1939) Monnier, Geneviève and William McAllister Johnson, ‘Caron antiquaire’, Revue de l’Art, 14 (1991), 23–30 Péricaud, Antoine, Notes et documents, Année 1536 (Lyon, 1840)

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Py, Bernadette, ‘Deux projets de Primatice’, in Sabine Frommel and Flaminia Bardati (eds), Primatice architecte (Paris: Picard, 2010), pp. 245–50 Schnapp, Alain, La conquête du passé. Aux origines de l’archéologie (Paris: Éditions Carré, 1993); repr. Le Livre de Poche, coll. ‘références, Art’, 1998 Settis, Salvatore (ed.), Memoria dell’antico nell’arte italiana, 3 vols (Turin: Einaudi, 1984–1986) Stenhouse, William, Reading Inscriptions and Writing Ancient History. Historical Scholar­ ship in the Late Renaissance (London: Institute of Classical Studies, University of London, 2005) Vagenheim, Ginette, ‘Une amitié épigraphique: Smetius, Clusius et Justus Lipsius’, in La Société des Amis à Rome et dans la littérature médiévale et humaniste, Latinitates, Series 2 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), pp. 305–15 Weiss, Roberto, La Scoperta dell’Antichità classica nel Rinascimento (Padua: Editrice Antenore, 1989)

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Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the Sixteenth Century The spectacular development of French royal funerals in the sixteenth century has drawn much attention since Ralph Giesey, in his justly renowned The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France, detected in these ceremonies an expression of the monarchy’s progress towards absolutism.1 However, in spite of its great success and the author’s impressive erudition, this interpretation does not seem to have stood the test of time and analysis. It is true that, as Kantorowicz pointed out, the metaphor of ‘the king’s two bodies’ has been used since the late Middle Ages to distinguish the king as a person — and consequently mortal — from the king as the incarnation of the State and therefore immortal.2 Nevertheless, the deliberate choice made by Giesey — in the absence of any decisive proof — to reduce to this metaphor the moving ceremony that escorts le roi Très Chrétien in his pilgrim’s progress from the terrestrial life to the eternal one, strikes one as extremely simplistic. Furthermore, the studies of the funerals of queens and princes, undertaken in the last two decades, demonstrate that the royal rite involving a wax effigy was not reserved exclusively for the sovereign.3 Consequently, the effigy cannot symbolize stricto sensu the perpetuity of the royal power ‘that never dies’. It should be more broadly associated with the ‘représentation extérieure’,4 that

* I wish to express my gratitude to Valery Afanassiev and Robert J. Knecht for the English translation of my text.  1 Ralph Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flam­ marion, 1987); first edn, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France (Geneva: Droz, 1960).  2 Ernst-Hartwig Kantorowicz, Les deux corps du roi. Essai sur la théologie politique au Moyen Âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1989).  3 Alain Boureau, Le simple corps du roi (Paris: Ed. de Paris-M. Chaleil, 1988); Elizabeth A. R. Brown, ‘Royal Bodies, Effigies, Funeral Meals, and Office in Sixteenth-Century France’, Micrologus. Natura, scienze e società medievali, 7, Il cadavere. The Corpse (Florence, Simnel, 1999), pp. 437–508; Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au Bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005); Murielle GaudeFerragu, ‘“L’honneur de la reine”: la mort et les funérailles de Charlotte de Savoie (1–14 décembre 1583)’, Revue historique, 652 (2010), 779–804.  4 BnF. Ms. fr. 10792, p. 354 (Treaty of public law, eighteenth century): ‘Les reines ne règnent point effectivement, puisque rien ne se fait par elles ny en leur nom. Si l’autorité leur manque, elles en ont au

Monique Chatenet is Conservateur en chef honoraire and honorary member of Centre André Chastel, CNRS – Paris-Sorbonne Université. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 185–207  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120758

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is to say the dignity independent of the authority shared by the king and queen, and which also includes the princes and the nobles of the kingdom who enjoy it in accordance with their rank — ‘chacun selon son degré’. The cultural hypothesis introduced by Elizabeth Brown, who sees in the introduction of the funeral meals in front of the effigy an urge to imitate the rites of the ancients revealed by the first treatises on funerals, is certainly more plausible.5 Besides, this hypothesis is explicitly voiced by the member of the Parlement, Jean du Tillet, in his description of François Ier’s funeral.6 Apart from the Christian faith that should by no means be forgotten, one cannot indeed explain the extraordinary developments of the ars moriendi in the Renaissance outside the context of the renovatio antiquitatis. Nor should we overlook the importance of the beliefs and rites that have surrounded the great mystery of death since time immemorial. Finally, one should also take into consideration the theatrical aspect of ceremonies whose first aim was to arouse the emotion, and the quasi-magic power exercised in those days by images. In fact, several factors coincided to bring about the extraordinary development of this rite in the sixteenth century. Apart from the undeniable literary influence of antiquity which added an unexpected episode to the scenario, that of funeral meals, the considerable expansion of court society in those times produced further developments in the ceremonial. It also contributed to the growth of the implacable power struggle — and the war of images that accompanies it — to which the Grands indulged in as a preamble to the Wars of Religion. The royal mortuary rite which, contrary to the coronation, was not governed by the ordo, stemmed from a custom, if not a convenance, and could eventually be borrowed or rather usurped by those for whom it was not destined. In a society where one pushed one’s way through a crowd of upstarts, the respect of hierarchy was consumed by the fever of social climbing. Last but not least, let us not forget that the ceremony was not a masculine privilege and that the funerals played a role of equal importance for both sexes. The Last Triumph The funeral of Charles VIII,7 which was entrusted to the Master of the Horse (Grand écuyer) Pierre d’Urfé, stood out for the special honour bestowed on a chef de guerre. It was marked by the appearance of several ‘pieces of moins toute la représentation extérieure par la cour qui les environne et par le titre des officiers qui forment leur maison’. See also Fanny Cosandey, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir XVe–XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Gallimard, 2000).  5 Brown, ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post Mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002, Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 356), pp. 113–30. On this subject, see the chapter by Marie Madeleine Fontaine in the present volume, pp. 157–83.  6 Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 224, and appendix 1. Jean du Tillet, Recueil des rois de France, BnF. Ms. fr. 17294, fol. 377.  7 The tripartition of the corpse persists throughout the sixteenth century. The heart of Charles VIII was buried in Notre-Dame of Cléry.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

honour’8 — guidon, pennon, bannière — in the processions; and also by the leading place given to the king’s companions. Jean du Tillet detects in this phenomenon the first literary influence of antiquity.9 The eminent role of the household could be seen even in the first ceremonies that took place at Amboise, and led to the dramatization of the last episodes in Paris and Saint-Denis.10 After the display of the body ‘sur un lit de parement’ (a bed of state), and that of the coffin in the ‘salle de deuil’ (hall of mourning), covered in black,11 the king’s body was brought in procession to the collegiate church of Saint-Florentin situated nearby. Lit by hundreds of emblazoned torches carried by the ‘archers of the body’ (archers du corps) and the poor clad in black, the procession was preceded by ushers and their batons determined to maintain order, offering first a silent parade of trumpeters ‘resting the poles of their banners on their shoulders as low as possible, the mouthpieces of their trumpets removed’.12 Then followed the heralds wearing their coats of arms, two ‘sergents à masse’ holding their maces upside down, the two kings of arms likewise wearing their coats, and the Master of the Horse. All heads were covered with big black hoods. Finally, accompanied by the city clergy, the coffin moved ahead carried by sixteen gentlemen of the king’s chamber, whereas four chamberlains held the corners of the poêle (pall: generally made of red silk or golden cloth). After a long journey, the funeral procession reached Paris and the church of Notre-Dame-des-Champs13 where the wax effigy, invisible so far, made its appearance on the coffin. The participants engaged in a discussion with the representatives of Parlement, the Chambre des comptes, the university, the aldermen and the provost of the merchants who ‘showed the edicts and the ancient privileges’ they felt privileged, each in his own right, to accompany the body to the ‘Croix pendant’ near Saint-Denis. The Parisian councillors took their traditional places in the procession, but the hanouars (the salt carriers) had to give up theirs; and the heavy coffin, topped by the effigy, was carried by the king’s gentlemen from Notre-Dame-des-Champs to Notre-Dame de Paris and thence to the abbey church of Saint-Denis.

 8 Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres, pp. 208–14. During the fifteenth century, the pieces of honour are mainly used by the dukes of Burgundy. They are also present at the funeral of Dunois at Cléry in 1468. See Monique Chatenet, ‘Piteux triomphes et lamentables pompes: les obsèques des OrléansLongueville aux XVe et XVIe siècles’, in Jean Guillaume (ed.), Demeures d’éternité. Églises et chapelles funéraires aux XVe et XVIe siècles (Paris: Picard, 2005, coll. De Architectura), pp. 225–46.  9 See the chapter by Marie Madeleine Fontaine in the present volume, pp. 157–83.  10 Pierre d’Urfé, La vraie ordonnance … in Alain Boureau, Le simple corps du roi (Paris: Ed. de Paris-M. Chaleil, 1988), pp. 93–114.  11 It was the grande salle of the Logis des Sept Vertus (Evelyne Thomas, ‘Les logis royaux d’Amboise’, Revue de l’art, 100 (1993), 44–57.  12 The trumpeters already marched silently in front of the coffin of Charles VIII. They impressed a diplomat of Mantua who notes them in his description of the funeral of François Ier (AS Mantua, AG 640, mai 1547, anon.).  13 This was then the name of a church in the Faubourg Saint-Jacques which was given to the Carmelite nuns in 1604.

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Following the first part of the cortège, clad in black, and with six horses also in black — only their eyes were visible — majestically pulling the big funeral chariot that had brought the coffin to Paris, the heralds carrying their gleaming coats, the Master of the Horse brandishing a sword decorated with fleurs-de-lis, and a ‘cheval de parement’ covered with a big caparison of mourning came in front of the king’s effigy enthroned on its golden sheet, surmounted by the emblazoned canopy, surrounded by the presidents of the Parlement, clad in scarlet, followed by pennon, guidon, enseigne, and the grand banner of France flapping in the wind. Lit by thousands of torches carried by the participants — symbols of eternal life — and accompanied by the incessant jingling of the bells of ‘cryers’ (crieurs) and by the tolling of the church bells, the gloomy cortège against which stand out the azure and gold of thousands of royal coats of arms affixed everywhere, made up a sort of Entry. Painful rather than joyful, this Entry was the last sovereign’s triumph, which indicated his passing from terrestrial glory to the ‘renommée de perpétuelle mémoire’ (renown of perpetual memory). This theatrical aspect of the ritual was further emphasized in the course of the inhumation at Saint-Denis. At Charles VII’s funeral, the rite had been rather simple. Between the first shout (‘Pray for the soul of King Charles’) and the second (‘Long live King Louis’), the herald had come down into the pit, carrying his mace turned upside down. Then, after a prayer, he had righted the mace to show the arms of France turned upwards.14 In the course of Charles VIII’s inhumation, the gesture was repeated by all of the officers of the house: the kings of arms called one after another the maîtres d’hôtel who threw their batons into the pit. Then the sergeants put their maces on the tomb and the heralds did the same with their coats of arms, whereas the guidon, the enseigne, the pennon, and the banner were lowered. Eventually the Master of the Horse laid down the unsheathed sword at the entrance to the pit, then raised it ‘pointe contremont’ (point heavenward), shouting ‘long live the King!’. The heralds recovered their coats of arms and the first chamberlain raised the banner, for ‘it never dies’.15 In fine, the same night, in the course of the meal at the abbey marking the end of the ceremonies, the Grand Master of France, controller of the household of the late king, proclaimed in front of the officers that the household was dissolved and that each and every one should provide for himself. Acting on this declaration, he grasped the baton symbolizing his charge, painted black in sign of mourning, broke it, and threw it on the table accompanied by the lamentations of the assistants.16  14 Philippe Contamine, ‘Le sang, l’hôtel, le conseil, le peuple: l’entourage de Charles VII selon le récit de ses obsèques en 1461’, in Alain Marchandisse and Jean-Louis Kupper (eds), A l’ombre du pouvoir. Les entourages princiers au Moyen Âge (Liège: Université de Liège, 2003), pp. 149–67.  15 As we see here, Pierre d’Urfé distinguishes the ‘two bodies’ of the king, but it is the banner and the sword, not the effigy, which, according to him, represent the immortality of the monarchy.  16 This event, which is not mentioned by Pierre d’Urfé, appears in a relation recorded in a register of the Parlement (copy BnF. Ms. fr. 18534, fol. 84; see Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 123). According to Jean Chartier, Dunois had pronounced the same sentence at the funeral of Charles VII, but there is no testimony of the broken stick. It should be noted that the words and the gesture appear again

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

The Funeral all’antica of Anne de Bretagne and Louis XII: The Invention of the ‘Piteux Service’ The funeral of the body and the heart of Anne de Bretagne [Plate IX] which has been the object of an unprecedented publicity,17 seems to have been inspired directly — at least as far as the body is concerned18 — by the ordinance of Pierre d’Urfé, with a few variants, however, among which three at least are important. The first concerns the display of the body. After a short exposure, the face uncovered, the embalmed body of Charles VIII was placed in a coffin and carried to a ‘salle de deuil’ draped in black; that of Anne, after spending five days in the ‘mortuary chamber’, was transferred to a ‘salle de parement’ hung with sumptuous tapestries. It was situated on the first floor of the new wing of the château de Blois where it remained for two days on a bed covered with a golden sheet, clad in royal garments and accompanied by the regalia19 [Plate X]. Afterwards, the body was transferred to the coffin20 and the sumptuous tapestries were replaced by black drapery in the room that was renamed ‘salle de deuil’ (hall of mourning) (Figure 9.1). This short triumphant display of the queen’s body in the ‘salle de parement’ — a new feature in the royal ceremony — might have been inspired by the funeral of Pierre de Bourbon (1503).21 For the composition of the cortèges, at Blois as well as at Paris, the ceremony was reproduced without major alterations except that this time there was no room for ‘pieces of honour’, which were specifically masculine war symbols. On the other hand, the six mourning horses, the ‘cheval de croupe’, the ‘haquenée d’honneur’, the French and Breton heralds wearing their coats of arms, were conspicuously present — as well as the scarlet robes of the presidents of the Paris Parlement. It was — after the fashion of Charles VIII’s funeral — the officers of the queen’s household, not the hanouars, who carried the coffin topped by the effigy from Paris to Saint-Denis [Plate XI]. The scenario of the inhumation was particularly solemn. For the first time the regalia came to the fore (Figure 9.2). After the Libera me Domine, the Brittany herald called first the queen’s Grand Master, her Chevalier d’Honneur, and the

 17

 18  19  20  21

in 1513 and 1516 for the funerals of François II and Louis I de Longueville (see Monique Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects des funérailles nobiliaires au XVIe siècle’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, pp. 46–47). Pierre-Gilles Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition cat. (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014), p. 65 ff. The Commémoration et advertissement of Pierre Choque can be found in 37 manuscripts, each one accompanied by 11 illustrations. They were destined for the members of the most important families in France and Europe. The other manuscript, Le trespas de l’hermine regrettée is only known in two copies. It exists also in a printed booklet ‘L’ordre qui fut tenu à l’obsèque…’ which is a summary of Pierre Choque’s text. The funeral of Anne de Bretagne’s heart in Nantes was especially magnificent. See Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne. These are the crown, the sceptre, and the hand of justice. The body was exposed for nine days. This must have been exceptional, for Pierre Choque to have noted it. Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘La mort du prince: les funérailles de Pierre de Beaujeu, duc de Bourbon (1503)’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, pp. 55–76.

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Figure 9.1. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the placing of the body in the coffin, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Figure 9.2. Funeral of Anne de Bretagne, the burial, Paris, Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris.

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Master of the Horse of Brittany who handed him the sceptre, the hand of justice, and the crown so that he might put them on the coffin. Then the maîtres d’hôtels broke their batons and threw them into the pit. Eventually Bretagne carried his own coat of arms towards the coffin before shouting ‘the queen is dead’. For obvious reasons, no one shouted ‘long live the queen’ nor even ‘long live the duchess’ after the fashion of Pierre de Bourbon’s funeral.22 But in the evening, in accordance with tradition, the Grand Master of Brittany broke his baton above the table of the last meal. The third innovation — the most important one — had taken place during the journey from Blois to Paris. That is how it is depicted in passing by Pierre Choque at the Montlhéry stage: The noble queen and duchess, our sovereign lady and mistress, from the time of her death until she was laid to rest in her mother earth, was always served, both dinner and supper, with table set and spread, and blessing and grace said in the chamber of her chief lady in waiting, the abbé of La Roe acting as chaplain and Monseigneur d’Avaugour of Grand Master [of Brittany]. A lot of crying officers could be seen at this piteux service.23 Thus, at Blois and during the journey, the officers of the household would set the table ‘à la royale’ in accordance with the existing ceremonial and, under the direction of the Grand Master, were serving the dishes as if the queen were still alive. The ceremony took place in the room of Jacqueline d’A starac, Dame of Mailly, the queen’s maid of honour, far from the queen’s body lying in a church under a chapelle ardente at the stopping-off points. Though the text is not clear on this point, one might imagine that the maid of honour did not usurp the queen’s place, which would have been most improper but, leaving the ‘high end’ of the table empty, she might have joined the other ladies at the ‘low end’ — the left end — as she habitually did during her mistress’s lifetime.24 Pierre Choque, the Brittany king of arms, might have been behind this ‘piteux service’. But even in this case he was not the only one to hit upon the idea. The organizers of funerals must have known Jean Lemaire de Belges’ treaty Des Anciennes pompes funeralles. This treaty enlarged upon the custom of the ancients, according to which the meals were served to the late prince: ‘Encoires asseoit on auprez de luy sur une table dressée le service ordinaire de vin et de viande comme s’il fust vif’25 (‘Then one placed near him a table prepared with the regular service of wine and meat as though he were still alive’). In the meantime Jean Lemaire, who had written this work in 1507 for Marguerite of Austria, had joined the  22 See Pierre-Gilles Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, p. 46. The future François Ier, responsible for the funeral, avoided carefully any allusion to the succession of Brittany, while on the contrary, at the burial of Pierre de Bourbon, Anne de France had wanted to secure the succession of the duchy.  23 Translation in Brown, ‘Royal Bodies’, p. 452.  24 For the funeral of François de Lorraine in 1546, a literal copy of Anne de Bretagne’s funeral, the high end of the table was left empty. See Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, pp. 48–49.  25 Jean Lemaire de Belges, Des anciennes pompes funeralles, ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine (Paris: Société des textes français modernes, 2001), p. 19.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

service of Anne of Brittany and was duty-bound to dedicate his treaty to her daughter Claude de France.26 Let us not forget that in those days the princes of Europe did all they could to resurrect antiquity. Thus, in 1502, Louis XII performed a triumphal entry in Milan on a mock Roman chariot.27 Ten years later, also in Milan, the funeral of his brother-in-law, Gaston de Foix, was used as a pretext for a ‘pompe plus triomphante que funèbre ni chrétienne’ (‘a pomp more triumphant than funereal or Christian’), the chained enemies walking in front of the body after the fashion of Roman triumphs.28 As for Anne of Brittany, her confessor, Guillaume Parvy, reminded people in his funeral oration of the fact that the deceased was a direct descendant of Brutus of Troy, the great-grandson of Aeneas, who, after his Odysseus-like wanderings around the seas, had come to the Breton port of ‘Le Troysic’.29 A spectacular revival of mythical antiquity was unanimously approved of, and its introduction into the funeral ceremony was particularly judicious: according to Choque’s testimony, everyone dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs while staring at the empty chair. Odd and surprising as it may seem at first glance, it was logical that this moving improvement should be added to the existing scenario. It is a well-known fact that in 1498, in the course of the funeral procession from Amboise to Paris, Charles VIII’s officers were fed at the late king’s expense, the royal household being dispersed only after the inhumation. The breaking of the Grand Master’s baton which, as we have seen, takes place at the last meal, symbolized this dispersion.30 Yet, contrary to the king’s procession which was made up exclusively of men, that of the queen included the women who had been in charge of the household. The princesses too were entitled to a certain amount of intimacy — in remembrance no doubt of the journeys of the court. Consequently their meals were served at stopping-off points in the maid of honour’s room. In other words, only the solemnity of the service ‘à la royale’ was permitted to interfere with the customary ritual, modifying it to some extent. Several months later, the ‘piteux service’ was carried out during Louis XII’s funeral, in January 1515. These ceremonies are known with less precision than the previous ones,31 but luckily for us, a diplomat of Ferrara, who had witnessed them, noted down an essential detail:

 26 See Marie Madeleine Fontaine’s chapter in the present volume, p. 157–83.  27 Luisa Giordano, ‘Les entrées de Louis XII en Milanais’, in Jean Balsamo, Passer les monts. Français en Italie – l’Italie en France (1494–1525) (Paris: Champion, 1998), pp. 139–48.  28 Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de Brantôme, Œuvres complètes, ed. by L. Lalanne, 11 vols (Paris: Renouard, 1864–1882), vol. 3, pp. 16–17. See also Alain Marchandisse and Jonathan Dumont, ‘Issues funestes de la bataille de Ravenne: les funérailles de Gaston de Foix’, in Dante Bolognesi, Giorgio Chittolini, Marco Pellegrini and Giovanni Ricci (eds), Ravenna 1512. La battaglia, la città, l’Europa (Ravenna: Longo editore, 2014), pp. 101–15.  29 Play on words with the name of the Breton port of Le Croisic renamed ‘Le Troysic’ in reference to Troy, an exercise of false etymology very much in fashion at the time. See Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, p. 25, and the famous ‘Beau ce’ of François Rabelais’s Gargantua.  30 It was probably already the case for Charles VII. See above, note 16.  31 For the bibliography, see see Ralf Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), pp. 176–77.

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His maître d’hôtel and his trenchant prepare for him morning and evening his meal and present it to him (once it is taken away, the poor avail themselves of this dainty dish) with all the show and reverences due to a king, exactly as if he were alive. And this they do daily until he finally disappears under the earth’s surface.32 The king having died in Paris, the meals were served in front of his body, then of his effigy33 exhibited on a bed of state for nine days in a ‘salle de deuil’34 (hall of mourning) at the hotel des Tournelles, inaugurating the rite that was to last until Henri IV’s death. As for the rest, the ceremonies seem to have unfolded exactly as they did during the previous reign except that the funeral chariot took care of the coffin, whereas the gentlemen of the household were carrying in triumph the effigy accompanied by the presidents of the Parlement, the canopy, the ensigns, and the banner. According to Giesey, this dissociation and the presence of the Parlement around the effigy instead of the coffin, were meant as a sign of the superiority of the immortal ‘corps politique’ over the king’s mortal body. The hypothesis is however hardly plausible, for in the eyes of the contemporaries the body and its représentation ‘portrayed from live and in a manner that many thought that it was the real body’35 were one and the same thing. It was not even an innovation. Inaugurated five years earlier in Lyon, on the occasion of the funeral of Cardinal Georges d’Amboise, the procedure was dictated by sheer pragmatism: to avoid carrying over a long distance a heavy coffin lined with lead by a few pairs of hands.36 As for the presence of the Parlement around the effigy and not near the body, obviously we are dealing with a question of prestige: the wax image of the deceased was the climax of the show, and if the presidents of the Parlement prided themselves on the privilege of parading in their scarlet robes, they could hardly do so with a view of going unnoticed.

The Grand Spectacle of the Death of the Prince: Evolution of the Ceremony under François Ier Gradually set up for the funeral of Charles VIII, of Anne de Bretagne and Louis XII, the scenario was taken up, in its feminine version, for Claude de France’s funeral. It was slightly modified — or rather adjusted — to that of

 32 Cansachi to the Duke of Ferrara, January 1515, AS Modena, Ambasciatori, Francia 5; quoted by Brown, Refreshment of the Dead, pp. 127–28.  33 Robert Gaguin, Mer des chroniques, fol. 229, quoted by Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 177, note 39.  34 According to these documents, there was no salle d’honneur as for Anne de Bretagne and later for François Ier.  35 ‘Pourtraicte sur le vif et de telle sorte que plusieurs estimoyent que ce fust le propre corps’, Funérailles de Georges d’Amboise, archevêque de Rouen, cardinal […] célébrées à Lyon et à Rouen du 25 mai au 20 juin 1510, ed. by Édouard Frère (Rouen: Société des bibliophiles normands, 1864), p. 15.  36 Notre-Dame-des-Champs and Saint-Denis are 12 km distant from each other.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Louise de Savoie.37 It remained quasi unchanged in the course of François Ier’s funeral,38 but every episode of the ritual was amplified and intensified beyond measure to adjust to the ambient magnificence of the court of the sumptuous prince-mécène of the Renaissance. At Francis’s death, which took place at the château de Rambouillet on 30 March 1547, it was resolved to bury the king with his two late sons, the dauphin François and the duc d’Orléans. Their coffins were provisionally deposited in Beaune and Tournon, and it took almost two months to convey them to Paris. Thus the king’s body stayed for a long time in the château de Saint-Cloud, property of the bishop of Paris. During this period,39 the meals were served ‘à la royale’, first in front of the coffin placed in a richly hung chamber, then near the effigy wearing the coronation robe and resting on the lit de parement installed in the ‘salle d’honneur’ adorned with the sumptuous tapestry of the Acts of the Apostles.40 During the time the body was in the chamber next to the great hall, as well as while the effigy was in that hall, the forms and fashions of service were observed and kept just as was customary during the lifetime of the king: the table being served by the officers of the commissary; the service carried by the gentlemen servants, the bread-carrier, the cupbearer and the carver, with the usher marching before them and followed by the officers of the cupboard, who spread the table with the reverences and samplings that were customarily made. After the bread had been broken and prepared, the meat and other courses were brought in by an usher, steward, bread-carrier, pages of the chamber, squire of the cuisine and garde-vaisselle. The napkin was presented by said steward to the most dignified person present, to wipe the hands of Monseigneur. The table was blessed by a Cardinal; the basins of water for washing the hands presented at the chair of Monseigneur as if he had been living and seated in it. The three courses of the meal were carried out with the same forms, ceremonies and samplings as they were wont during the life of Monseigneur, without forgetting those of the wine, with the presentation of the cup at the places and hours that Monseigneur had been accustomed to drink twice at each of his meals. At the end of the meal, water to wash with was offered and grace said by a Cardinal in the usual form and manner, except that the De profundis and the orison Inclina Domine auram tuam were added. Assisting at the repast were the same people who  37 For Louise de Savoie, it was a ducal crown; the sceptre and the hand of justice had been replaced by a palm leaf and an olive branch. See Monique Chatenet, ‘Les funérailles de Louise de Savoie’, in Pascal Brioist, Laure Fragnart and Cédric Michon (eds), Louise de Savoie (1476–1531) (Rennes: Publications universitaires de Rennes, 2015), pp. 155–63.  38 Complete bibliography in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, Appendix 1, to which must be added a report by a diplomat of Mantua: AS Mantua, AG 640, May 1547 (anon.).  39 According to the ambassador of Ferrara Alvarotti (cited in Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 242) the ritual of the meal began at Rambouillet.  40 This tapestry designed by Raphael, was, with that of the Triumph of Scipio, the most prestigious tapestry of François Ier’s collection. It was later used for the funerals of Henri II and Charles IX.

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had been accustomed to speak or respond to Monseigneur during his life and also others accustomed to be present.41 After presentation of the coffin in the salle de deuil, the funeral procession set off. The cortège that traversed Paris from Notre-Dame-des-Champs to Notre-Dame, and then to Saint-Denis had new dimensions, if only on account of the three effigies exhibited in the midst of it. Of course, the ritual was inspired by previous ceremonies, but this time it displayed more amplitude, setting off the contrast between the first part, in which the colour black dominated absolutely, and the second. The first part ended with the ‘chariot d’armes’ holding the three coffins accompanied by twelve horses of mourning ridden by pages. From every point of view it was different from the second part, in the course of which one could see multi-coloured ‘pieces of honour’. They reminded one of the Entrée: gauntlets, crowned helmets, shields, coats of arms, ensigns, swords decorated with fleursde-lis, spurs. This time the horse of honour was carrying a golden saddle and a huge caparison strewn with fleurs-de-lis. The three effigies accompanied them, ensconced on the litter of golden sheets. They wore crowns and coats decorated with fleurs-de-lis and lined with ermine: first the duc d’Orléans, then the dauphin, and in fine the king bearing his imperial crown, holding in his waxed hands the sceptre and the hand of justice. The presidents of the Parlement held the corners of the golden sheet and the canopy was carried behind the effigy so as not to hide it from the spectators.42 Behind the effigy, admiral d’Annebault, the funeral organizer, held the banner of France. He preceded the ‘princes du grand deuil’, clad in black hooded coats. The spectacle ‘of such a great impressiveness and magnificence moved to tears even those who seldom if ever shed tears’. What is more, it impressed the foreign ambassadors who accompanied the cortège — in particular the ambassador from Turkey who had an account of the ceremony translated for the attention of his master.43 The ritual of burial was also prolonged. The principal king of arms invited first the royal officers to deposit one after another the seven ensigns and all other ‘pieces of honour’. And then, carrying out the Grand Master’s orders, the maîtres d’hôtel flung their batons into the pit. The regalia were carried on the coffin, as was done at Anne de Bretagne’s funeral. At last, admiral d’Annebault shouted, ‘The king is dead’. Then, raising the banner of France that he had previously lowered, he shouted, ‘Long live King Henry, second of this name’. Those in attendance repeated this cry, accompanied by fifes, drums, and trumpets that had so far been silent.  41 Report of Pierre du Chastel, pub. in Théodore Godefroy, Le cérémonial de France (Paris: A. Pacard, 1619), pp. 280–81; translation in Ralph Giesey, The royal funeral ceremony in Renaissance France (Geneva: Droz, 1960), p. 5.  42 The canopy was already in this position at the funerals of Charles VII and Louis XII.  43 ‘D’une si grande sumptuosité et magnificence esmouvait les plus durs aux larmes’, see Vincent Carloix, ‘Mémoires de la vie de François de Scépeaux, sire de Vieilleville’ (Paris: Foucauld, 1822), p. 191. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, appendix 1, p. 292, cites an Italian report published in Venice. He also mentions the reports of the ambassadors Alvarotti and Saint-Mauris (Le roi ne meurt jamais, appendix 1, p. 242). See also note 39, above, for the report of the ambassador of Mantua.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Henri II’s funeral that we know in minute details from the account of François de Signac, seigneur de La Borde, Dauphiné king of arms,44 took its cue from the scenario laid down for François Ier’s funeral, namely for the expansion of the first episodes in the chambre du trépas, the salle d’honneur, and the salle de deuil. This time no practical requirements could justify this expansion. The ritual of meals served in front of the effigy remained. What is more, one variant was added: the mass ‘à la royale’ in the salle d’honneur in front of an empty seat. Actually, it was not an invention: this element was borrowed from the scenario devised in 1546 by the herald of Lorraine, Emond du Boullay, for François de Lorraine’s funeral.45 Two years after the massacre of Saint-Barthélemy, Charles IX’s funeral unfolded in accordance with the henceforth traditional custom, but in an atmosphere envenomed by quarrels.46 Catherine de Médicis’s and Henri III’s funerals were just postponed. In spite of the fact that Catherine de Médicis, who died at Blois on 5 January 1589, was honoured with the ritual of meals in front of her effigy, her coffin remained in the collegiate church of Saint-Sauveur in the castle, waiting for better times.47 Several months later, Paris and Saint-Denis being in the hands of the Leaguers, the coffin of Henri III, who had been assassinated at Saint-Cloud, was conveyed to the church Saint-Corneille of Compiègne where it remained until 1610 before being deposited in Saint-Denis on Marie de Médicis’s orders.48 The Funeral of Henri IV: Restoration of Royal Majesty The funeral of ‘Henry the Great’, the restorer of peace and founder of a new dynasty, revived the sumptuous Valois tradition, the queen having wished that ‘his funeral would be in both expense and magnificence beyond whatever has been done before’.49 Given the prestige of the king and the tragic circumstances of his death, the emotion was high. The numberless funeral orations printed on this occasion in various parts of the kingdom testify to this. The numerous brochures and, for the first time, a gazette, the Mercure François, published more or less detailed accounts of the whole or parts of the ceremonies, and a set of engravings assured the diffusion in images, in particular those of the effigy on

 44 Godefroy, Le cérémonial de France, p. 404 ff.  45 Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, pp. 49–50.  46 Carloix, p. 190, note 73.  47 See Armand Baschet, La diplomatie vénitienne. Les princes de l’Europe au XVIe siècle: François Ier, Philippe II, Catherine de Médicis (Paris: H. Plon, 1862), p. 599. The body was to stay in Blois for 20 years.  48 BnF. Ms. fr. 4338 (1610).  49 ‘Ses obsèques fussent en despence et en magnificence au-delà de tout ce qui s’estoit fait auparavant’. See Pierre Matthieu, ‘Histoire de la mort de Henri IV’, in Cimber and Danjou (eds), Archives curieuses de l’Histoire de France […], Series 1/15 (Paris: Beauvais, 1837), p. 76. Gérard Sabatier, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 17–18. Joël Cornette, Henri IV à Saint-Denis: de l’abjuration à la profanation (Paris: Belin, 2010), pp. 177–200.

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Figure 9.3. Funeral of Henri IV, the effigy on the lit d’honneur, engraved by Isaac Briot, 1610, Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

the bed of honour as well as the long cortège moving to Saint-Denis (Figure 9.3). Taking up textually the Valois ceremony, Marie de Médicis and her councillors wished to ‘gloss over the dynastic break, showing in their way that monarchy in France will never die’.50 All the refinements added to the ceremony in the middle of the sixteenth century were therefore followed to the letter and the cortège, moving from the Louvre to Notre-Dame and from Notre-Dame to Saint-Denis, reached unheard-of dimensions and a sense of hierarchy so characteristic of Henri IV’s ceremonies. The Funerals of the Grands There is no denying that royal funerals in the sixteenth century borrowed a few elements from those of princes, namely the pieces of honour that originated in Burgundy or the hall of honour borrowed from the duke of Bourbon. But the royal ceremony exerted in its turn a considerable influence over the funeral of the Grands, in particular the effigy adopted in 1481 at the funeral of René d’Anjou (the holder, it is true, of a royal title). It was taken up in 1503 in honour of Pierre de Bourbon,51 in 1508 in honour of René II de Lorraine52 and in 1510 for Georges d’Amboise, for whom Louis XII had prescribed ‘the greatest honours one could display’.53 The House of Lorraine, which descended from the king of Sicily, played an important role in the diffusion of royal customs. In the printed account of Antoine’s and François de Lorraine’s funerals at Nancy in 1545 and 1546, the herald of arms, Emond du Boullay, explains how he had been given responsibility for restoring the ‘antique’ ceremonial of princes ‘sovereigns in between the banks of the Meuse and the Rhine’. In fact, he reinvented it:54 it is not sheer coincidence if the rite carried out in 1546 at the funeral of François de Lorraine stems directly from that of Anne de Bretagne. Only four ‘non-royal’ effigies can be found before François Ier’s death and no trace of the innovations introduced for the sake of Anne de Bretagne’s funeral until 1546. Yet we are surprised at seeing the extraordinary success enjoyed in the second half of the century by the funeral effigy and the meals served in front of its waxen eyes. The first princely funerals in which one comes across the rite of François Ier’s memorial service is that of Marie d’Albret, princess of Clèves and duchess of Nevers who died in Paris in October 1549. As her body was embalmed and placed in the coffin, a chamber was hung with gold-brocaded satin, and the effigy of the deceased ‘portrayed from life’ was put on the state bed draped in golden  50 ‘Eclipser la rupture dynastique et montrer ainsi à leur manière qu’en France la monarchie ne mourrait jamais’: see Gérard Sabatier, ‘Les funérailles royales’, vol. 1, p. 30.  51 Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘La mort du prince’, pp. 55–76.  52 A descendant of René d’Anjou.  53 ‘Les honneurs les plus grands que faire se pourrait’. See Chatenet and Marchandisse, Les Funérailles de Georges d’Amboise, pp. 159–69, and Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, pp. 37–54.  54 ‘Souverains entre les rivages de la Meuse et du Rhin’. See Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, pp. 37–54.

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Figure 9.4. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Chambre du trépas, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grand tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608).

sheets. The effigy adorned with a ducal crown and clasping its hands, wore a dress hemmed with ermine and a long ducal coat. During a week ‘during the time that the said effigy was lying on the said bed, at the hours of dinner and supper, the forms and the manners of the services were observed and kept as we had accustomed when the said lady was alive’.55 Shortly afterwards the effigy disappeared and the coffin was deposited in a ‘chambre de deuil’ (chamber of mourning) hung with black. Eventually, the cortège set off to Nevers where the effigy showed up again to parade through the city, carried by six gentlemen, ‘the four corners of the golden sheet being on the lit de parement of the said effigy carried by the four barons of the duchy of Nivernois’,56 whereas four aldermen of the city were holding the canopy adorned with the deceased’s coat of arms.  55 ‘Tirez d’après le vif et naturel […] Pendant le tems que étoit ladite effigie sur ledit lit et aux heures de disner et souper les formes et façons des services furent observées et gardees tout ainsy qu’on avoit accoustumé du vivant de madite Dame […] les quatre coings du drap d’or étant sur le lit de parement d’icelle effigie portés par les quatre premiers barons du duché de Nivernois’. See Arch. Ministère des Affaires étrangères, M. D. France, 182 (Saint-Simon), quoted by Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, p. 51.  56 The body followed in a chariot.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Figure 9.5. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Salle d’honneur, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grand tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608).

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Figure 9.6. Funeral of Charles III de Lorraine, 1608, Salle de deuil, engraved by Herman de Loye, in Claude de La Ruelle, Dix grand tables contenantes les pourtraictz des cérémonies […] faitz au corps de feu […] Charles 3 du nom […] (Nancy: Blaise André, 1608).

François de Clèves, who seems to have paid close attention to his mother’s funeral, took advantage of the occasion to bury two other members of his family who had not yet been entitled to a ceremony worthy of their rank. The splendour of these funerals was clearly prompted by the same motivation that, several years before, had inspired the funeral of the princes of Lorraine. The Clèves, ‘foreign princes’ at the court of France and ducs et pairs since only 1539,

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

likewise wished to emphasize their dignity in front of the princes of the fleurs de lys. Several disagreements had already opposed these rival families in spite of the alliances forged between them. It is little wonder that, under the circumstances, the Guises had thought it advisable to borrow in their turn the ritual of François Ier ’s funeral for that of Claude in 1550.57 The same goes for the princes de La Trémoille: they opted for the same solution when arranging Anne de Laval’s funeral in 1554.58 Not to be outdone, the Montmorency, first barons of France, followed this example in 1567 and 1579 for the funerals of Anne de Montmorency59 and his son.60 Naturally enough, the descendants of Saint Louis did not wish to be outdone either. In 1557, the effigy of the cardinal Louis de Bourbon was exhibited in a salle d’honneur.61 But what happened to Léonor de Longueville is even more unusual. In the course of the festivities in Bayonne in 1565, an argument broke out between the ducs de Guise and de Longueville about the order of precedence at the dinner table. In the heat of the moment, the duc de Guise dropped an unpleasant hint as to the obscure origins of the founder of the dynasty of Orléans-Longueville.62 The quarrel grew more and more acrimonious and only in 1571 did Charles IX put an end to it, coming out in favour of Léonor.63 One might think, however, that Marie de Longueville, née Bourbon-Saint-Pol, had not forgotten the affront: when Léonor died in 1573, she turned to Emond du Boullay. The renowned organizer of funerals of the House of Lorraine proposed a ceremony so sumptuous that it was first postponed until the following year and eventually took place in a watered-down version, which did not

 57 Emond du Boullay, Le tres excellent enterrement du treshault & tresillustre Prince Claude de Lorraine, duc de Guyse & d’Aumalle, pair de France […] Faict par Emond du Boullay, Roy d’armes de Lorraine (Paris: A. L’Anglier, 1550).  58 AN, 1 AP 244, published by Louis de La Trémoille, Chartrier de Thouars. Documents historiques et généalogiques (Paris: [n. pub.], 1877), pp. 70–72; cited by Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, p. 52.  59 BnF. Dupuy 324, fol. 11, published by Guillaume Fonkenell, Les funérailles d’Anne de Montmorency Connétable de France (1567), (Paris: RMN, 2018)  60 Archives of the Ministère des Affaires étrangères, M D France 182.  61 Archives of the Ministère des Affaires étrangères, M D France 181, fols 37–44v (1557).  62 The dukes of Longueville descend from Jean d’Orléans, known as Dunois, earl of Dunois and Longueville, illegitimate son of Prince Louis d’Orléans and illegitimate grandson of King Charles V.  63 BnF. Dupuy 286, 5 avril 1571.

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Figure 9.7. Effigy of Marguerite de Valois, 1615, engraving.

prevent the family of Longueville from carefully keeping the grandiose memory of the original project in their archives.64 Be that as it may, people eventually came to get tired of this bidding war and to wonder whether all this was compatible with Christianity. As a result, some intellectuals such as Pasquier, La Noue and the more modest Louis Guyon,65 set about making a mockery of the whole thing. However, the fashion of antiquity-oriented funerals did not peter out:66 its most spectacular manifestations date to the early years of the seventeenth century, if we take into consideration the above-mentioned funeral of Henri IV and that of Charles III de Lorraine in 1608 (Figures 9.4, 9.5 and 9.6). And if Louis XIII opted for Christian humility, the princes were dragging their feet and did not follow suit at once. There are a few examples of princely funeral effigies dating from the first decades of the seventeenth century — that of Marguerite de Valois (Figure 9.7), for instance, or that of the Duchesse de Montpensier, mother of the Grande Mademoiselle, and even in 1646 that of the Prince de Condé.67 Not until the heyday of catafalques and other apparatuses borrowed from Italy at the Baroque Age did this ritual — a curious cross between the medieval tradition and the reinvented antiquity — disappear forever.

 64 Monique Chatenet, Piteux triomphes, pp. 225–46.  65 See Chatenet, ‘Quelques aspects’, note 55.  66 See for instance the funerals of the duke of Anjou in 1584 (Godefroy, Le cérémonial de France) and the duke of Joyeuse in 1588. (BnF. Dupuy 324).  67 The most important collection of reports on funerals with effigies dating from the end of sixteenth century and the beginning of the seventeenth century, is the Saint-Simon collection in the Archives of the Ministère des Affaires étrangères, M D 180 to 182.

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Mantua, Archivio di Stato di Mantua (AS Mantua), AG 640, May 1547, anon. Report on François Ier’s funerals Modena, Archivio di Stato di Modena (AS Modena), Ambasciatori, Francia 5. F. Diplomatic correspondence. Cansachi to the Duke of Ferrara, January 1515 (funerals of Louis XII) Paris, Archives Nationales (AN), 1 AP 244, chartrier de Thouars Paris, Archives of the Ministère des Affaires étrangères, M D 180–182 (Saint-Simon collection). Reports on funerals, fifteenth to eighteenth centuries Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF), BnF. Ms. fr. 4338. Burial of Henri III at Saint-Denis —— , BnF. Ms. fr. 10792, p. 354. Treaty of public law, eighteenth century —— , BnF. Ms. fr. 17294. Jean du Tillet, Recueil des rois de France —— , BnF. Ms. fr. 18534, fol. 84. Report on the funerals of Charles VIII —— , BnF. Dupuy 286. Funerals of the duke of Longueville, 1571 —— , BnF. Dupuy 324. Reports on funerals Early Printed Books

Du Boullay, Emond, Le tres excellent enterrement du treshault & tresillustre Prince Claude de Lorraine, duc de Guyse & d’Aumalle, pair de France […] Faict par Emond du Boullay, Roy d’armes de Lorraine (Paris: A. L’Anglier, 1550) Du Tillet, Jean, Recueil des Roys de France, leur couronne et maison […] (Paris: Jaques Du Puys, 1580); ed. cit. (Paris: Houzé, 1602) Godefroy, Théodore, Le cérémonial de France (Paris: A. Pacard, 1619) Printed Primary Sources

Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, seigneur de, Œuvres complètes, ed. by L. Lalanne, 11 vols (Paris: Renouard, 1864–1882) Carloix, Vincent, Mémoires de la vie de François de Scépeaux, sire de Vieilleville (Paris: Foucauld, 1822). Funérailles de Georges d’Amboise, archevêque de Rouen, cardinal […] célébrées à Lyon et à Rouen du 25 mai au 20 juin 1510, ed. by Édouard Frère (Rouen: Société des bibliophiles normands, 1864) La Trémoille, Louis de, Chartrier de Thouars. Documents historiques et généalogiques (Paris: [n. pub.], 1877) Lemaire de Belges, Jean, Des anciennes pompes funeralles, ed. by Marie Madeleine Fontaine (Paris: Société des textes français modernes, 2001) Matthieu, Pierre, ‘Histoire de la mort de Henri IV’, in Cimber and Danjou (eds), Archives curieuses de l’Histoire de France […], Series 1/15 (Paris: Beauvais, 1837)

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Baschet, Armand, La diplomatie vénitienne. Les princes de l’Europe au XVIe siècle: François Ier, Philippe II, Catherine de Médicis (Paris: H. Plon, 1862)

Boureau, Alain, Le simple corps du roi (Paris: Ed. de Paris-M. Chaleil, 1988)

Brown, Elizabeth A. R., ‘Royal Bodies, Effigies, Funeral Meals, and Office in SixteenthCentury France’, Micrologus. Natura, scienze e società medievali, 7, Il cadavere. The Corpse (Florence: Simnel, 1999), pp. 437–508 —— , ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post Mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002, Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 356), pp. 113–30 Chatenet, Monique, ‘Quelques aspects des funérailles nobiliaires au XVIe siècle’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002, Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 356), pp. 37–54 —— , ‘Piteux triomphes et lamentables pompes: les obsèques des Orléans-Longueville aux XVe et XVIe siècles’, in Jean Guillaume (ed.), Demeures d’éternité. Eglises et chapelles funéraires aux XVe et XVIe siècles (Paris: Picard, 2005, coll. De Architectura), pp. 225–46 —— , ‘Les funérailles de Louise de Savoie’, in Pascal Brioist, Laure Fragnart and Cédric Michon (eds), Louise de Savoie (1476–1531) (Rennes: Publications de l’Université de Rennes, 2015), pp. 155–63 Chatenet, Monique and Alain Marchandisse, ‘Les funérailles de Georges d’Amboise (Lyon et Rouen, 25 mai–20 juin 1510)’, in Jean-Pierre Chaline (ed.), Au seuil de la Renaissance: le cardinal Georges d’Amboise (1460–1510) (Rouen: Société de l’histoire de Normandie, 2012), pp. 159–69 Contamine, Philippe, ‘Le sang, l’hôtel, le conseil, le peuple: l’entourage de Charles VII selon le récit de ses obsèques en 1461’, in Alain Marchandisse and Jean-Louis Kupper (eds), A l’ombre du pouvoir. Les entourages princiers au Moyen Âge (Liège: Université de Liège, 2003), pp. 149–67 Cornette, Joël, Henri IV à Saint-Denis: de l’abjuration à la profanation (Paris: Belin, 2010) Cosandey, Fanny, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir XVe–XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Gallimard, 2000) Fonkenell, Guillaume, Les funérailles d’Anne de Montmorency - Connétable de France (1567) (Paris: RMN, 2018) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, ‘La mort du prince: les funérailles de Pierre de Beaujeu, duc de Bourbon (1503)’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002, Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 356), pp. 55–76 Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au Bas Moyen Age (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) —— , ‘“L’honneur de la reine”: la mort et les funérailles de Charlotte de Savoie (1er-14 décembre 1583)’, Revue historique, 652 (2010), 779–804

Chapter 9. Royal and Princely French Funerals in the 16 th Century

Giesey, Ralph, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987); first edn, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France (Geneva: Droz, 1960) Giordano, Luisa, ‘Les entrées de Louis XII en Milanais’, in Jean Balsamo, Passer les monts. Français en Italie – l’Italie en France (1494–1525), Xe colloque de la Société française d’étude du Seizième siècle (Paris: Champion, 1998), pp. 139–48 Girault, Pierre-Gilles, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition cat. (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014) Kantorowicz, Ernst-Hartwig, Les deux corps du roi. Essai sur la théologie politique au Moyen Âge (Paris: Gallimard, 1989); first edn, The King’s two bodies, a study in mediaeval political theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957) Marchandisse, Alain and Jonathan Dumont, ‘Issues funestes de la bataille de Ravenne: les funérailles de Gaston de Foix’, in Dante Bolognesi, Giorgio Chittolini, Marco Pellegrini and Giovanni Ricci (eds), Ravenna 1512. La battaglia, la città, l’Europa (Ravenna: Longo editore, 2014), pp. 101–15 Sabatier, Gérard, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherches du Château de Versailles, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 17–18 Thomas, Evelyne, ‘Les logis royaux d’Amboise’, Revue de l’art, 100 (1993), 44–57

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Chapter 10. Double Funerals and Funeral Effigies in Italian States The ritual of double funerals including effigies did not originate in an Italy typified by small city or regional states and by the obstructive presence of papal universalism. The geographical origins of the ritual derive from the nation states of England and France, that is from sacred monarchies. Italian funeral effigies served above all to hide weakness and were an attempt to compensate symbolically for the demographic and military deficiencies of the peninsular states. It is not by chance that the use of effigies in funeral rites was introduced late in Italy — only in the sixteenth century — when direct contact with the strength of national states forced the governments of the peninsula to seek new forms of legitimacy for their shaky power. For an Italy which was then — and above all was so considered as being — in the front rank in every field, the rite of the funeral effigy was one of the most significant cultural borrowings from the transalpine world. In spite of its grandeur, the rite on Italian soil showed signs of inward collapse — in contrast to its national origins, where it was a sign of ambitious advance. We may begin with effigies considered as material objects. The essay on ceroplastics by the great art historian Julius von Schlosser eloquently responds to those who consider them merely a niche curiosity. That study, which has only recently been translated from German into English (and Italian),1 reminds us that wax figures, paralleled by figures in stucco, are linked with the very underpinnings of modern European history: the sacralization of royalty, the construction of absolutism, and the victory of political Aristotelianism. Consequently, in addition to the techniques and styles documented by extant works, we must turn to more general fields of study.

 1 Julius von Schlosser, ‘Geschichte der Porträtbildnerei in Wachs. Ein Versuch’, in Jahrbuch der Kunst­ historischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses in Wien, 29 (1911); in English as ‘History of Portraiture in Wax’, in Roberta Panzanelli (ed.), Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure (Los Angeles, Getty Research Institute, 2008); in Italian in Andrea Daninos (ed.), Storia del ritratto in cera: Un saggio (Milan: Officina Libraria, 2011). See also Andrea Daninos, ‘Qualche novità sulla scultura in cera fra Cinquecento e Settecento’, Prospettiva (2008), 88–89.

Giovanni Ricci is a former Professor of Modern History at the University of Ferrara. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 209–221  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120759

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It is well known that work by Ernst Kantorowicz, continued by Ralph Giesey and other historians, has focused on the meanings of double funerals in royal and princely houses.2 At once a political celebration and a rite of passage, the double funeral was first recorded in England in 1327 for Edward II and in France for Charles VI in 1422. This essentially entailed placing on the bier a three-dimensional effigy bedecked with the distinctive emblems of sovereignty: a crown on the figure’s head, and an orb and sceptre in its hands. The funerary ritual represented a political theology that would then be developed by Tudor jurists, based on the Christocentric distinction between the mystical and physical bodies, which became the well-known theory of the king’s two bodies. An effigy was regularly used for the burials of English and French royalty. It played a highly important role in funerary protocol, overshadowing the corpse, a threatening and unstable presence. The basic issue involved — facilitating the transition to a new stability, whether from a skeleton or a mummy — is largely transcultural, as can be gleaned from studies of double burials in primitive societies. What emerges firstly is a functional constraint — decomposition — that must be given due consideration if we are to avoid merely cultural interpretation. The unsolved tension of the relationship between nature and history is always present. As far as double burials are concerned, the most complete examples occurred in 1514 with the death of Anne of Brittany, wife of Louis XII of France, when the effigy took centre stage, and in 1515 for Louis XII himself, when his effigy was lavishly fed.3 At the funeral of François Ier in 1547, the survival of the deceased’s political persona was underscored by 40 days of mourning, during which the effigy was displayed on a bed of honour; for the first 11 days, the effigy was served meals like the effigy of Louis XII. But when his successor, Henry II, came to sprinkle the king’s body, the effigy had already been removed.  2 Ernst H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), pp. 409–37; Ralph Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais: Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), pp. 60–61, 138–39, 176–85; Ralph Giesey, Cérémonial et puissance souveraine: France XVe–XVIIIe siècles (Paris: A. Collin, 1987), pp. 27–31. For later examinations: Elizabeth A. R. Brown, ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post Mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges, and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funerailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 113–30; Gérard Sabatier, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Engerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 17–47; Monique Chatenet, ‘Le dernier triomphe. Les funérailles royales de Charles VI à Henri IV’, in Le roi est mort, Exhibition cat., Versailles 26 octobre 2015–21 février 2016 (Paris: Tallandier/Château de Versailles, 2015); Giovanni Ricci, Le effigi funebri europee della prima Età moderna: varianti senza un modello?, in Luigi Canetti (ed.), Statue. Rituali, scienza e magia dalla Tarda Antichità al Rinascimento (Florence: SISMEL – Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017), pp. 443–61.  3 Elizabeth A. R. Brown, ‘The French Royal Funeral Ceremony and the King’s Two Bodies. Ernst H. Kantorowicz, Ralph E. Giesey and the Construction of a Paradigm’, Micrologus, 22 (2014), 105–37; Jean-Luc Deuffic (ed.), ‘“Qu’il mecte ma povre ame en céleste lumière”. Les funérailles d’une reine: Anne de Bretagne (1514). Textes, images et manuscrits’, Pecia. Le livre et l’écrit, 15 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012) ; Pierre-Gilles Girault, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France (Paris: GourcuffGranedigo, 2014); Jacques Santrot, Les doubles funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne. Le corps et le coeur (Geneva: Droz, 2017).

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The new king was not permitted to approach the image, because it was equivalent to the living, reigning king. Only one king could give personal expression to immortal values. Moreover, during the funeral cortège, the mortal remains of François Ier were separated from the effigy and the royal insignia. The effigy took its place in the position of honour at the back of the procession, while the body was paraded in a less significant place at the beginning. Such a separation had already occurred at the funeral of Louis XII in 1515, but in 1547 the dignitaries quite naturally grouped around the effigy, leaving the corpse virtually on its own. The case of François Ier is worth emphasizing, since it offers a visual transcription of political theory: the mortal remains perish, but immortal values survive. In the Tudor-Valois version, the effigy was also a way, backed by juridical thought, of confirming instantaneous dynastic succession. The effigy thus helped stem the feudal and centrifugal turmoil of critical periods represented by interregna. There is a further implication, pertaining solely to the sphere of mentalités. The effigy performed the function of substitution rather than that of simple mimetic evocation. It is the import and ambiguity of a word such as ‘representation’ that permits oscillation between these two semantic poles. The substitutive function of images refers us to a comparative anthropological series involving the mental category of the Doppelgänger, masterfully illustrated by Jean-Pierre Vernant: that is to say, the emblem of presence and absence at the same time.4 We can thus understand why the Church’s subtle misgivings never ceased in regard to funeral effigies, which were also targeted by the Reformation iconoclasm of the sixteenth century. Due in part to this, in part to the fact that they were made of perishable materials and in part because they were swept away by the Revolution, the French funeral effigies stored at the abbey of Saint-Denis have not survived. What has instead come down to us is a group of English effigies in Westminster Abbey, although these cannot be reliably interpreted due to heavy-handed restoration following damage sustained during the Second World War.5 We must therefore refer to written sources to try to understand what the funeral effigy of a prince must have looked like, and how it was managed. Italy offers us some exemplary case studies. Let us examine the funeral of Duke Ercole II d’Este, celebrated in Ferrara on 27 November 1559. The funeral of the effigy was the official one, because the physical body had already been buried secretly a few days earlier. The baroque historiographer Agostino Faustini clearly explains that ‘the solemn funeral was staged with the statue of the late Duke  4 Jean-Pierre Vernant, Mythe et pensée chez les Grecs. Etudes de psychologie historique (Paris: Maspero, 1965); Luigi Canetti, Impronte di gloria. Effigie e ornamento nell’Europa cristiana (Rome: Carocci, 2012), pp. 384–431.  5 See Julian Litten, ‘The Funeral Effigy: Its Function and Purpose’, in Anthony Harvey and Richard Mortimer (eds), The Funeral Effigies of Westminster Abbey (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1994), pp. 3–19; J. Arnold, ‘The “Pair of Straight Bodies” and “A Pair of Drawers” Dating from 1603 Which Clothe the Effigy of Queen Elizabeth I in Westminster Abbey’, Costume, 41 (2007), 1–10; Giovanni Ricci, ‘Le effigi funebri europee della prima Età moderna: varianti senza un modello?’, in Luigi Canetti (ed.), Statue. Rituali, scienza e magia dalla Tarda Antichità al Rinascimento, pp. 443–61.

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Hercole’.6 The statue was placed in a ‘coffin’ in the mortuary chapel where his body had lain, ‘in such a way that nothing could be seen but its face and feet’. The fact that the face and feet were visible tells us that the statue imitated the arrangement of the corpse on the funeral bed. The face and feet — in addition to the hands — were the parts of the body which were left uncovered when the bodies were displayed, in order to certify the death publicly; naturally, this caused serious problems for preserving and presenting the corpse. At this point, however, the body of Ercole II was simply an effigy that, in the words of another witness, Mario Equicola, merely ‘represents the dead signore’. As to the appearance of the simulacrum, the chronicler Paolo da Lignago, who attended the ceremony, provides a detailed description: ‘they made a stucco statue that is identical to the image of the dead duke […] and they dressed that statue just as he was when the people viewed him in death’.7 Based on these testimonies, the duke looked dead. In this case, therefore, the Ferrara effigy parted company with the French custom of portraying the prince with his eyes open, as if he were alive. Nevertheless, not everyone viewed the effigy of Ercole II as the statue of a dead man. In fact, the ‘fake body of the dead duke’ looked alive to one spectator, the gentleman Alessio Visdomini: ‘they made such a handsome face that it looked exactly like Duke Hercole when he was alive, and no one has ever seen anything that resembled him more’.8 In short, as far as likeness is concerned, there was great indecision among the witnesses. Unlike the face, the body of the effigy became secondary, a shapeless mass essentially identified by robes and insignia. Only the face was truly of interest. In this regard, some sources also mentioned ‘the imprint of Duke Ercole’ — that is, a cast. The casting technique, which Vasari says was invented by Verrocchio, was fully developed by the mid-sixteenth century and aroused morbid curiosity. Theoreticians of the visual arts were intrigued by it. In Bologna, Cardinal Gabriele Paleotti noted in 1582 that ‘some use death casts to make effigies and colour them so they seem alive, or make portraits that are excellent likenesses’.9 An inventory of the Estense wardrobe (guardaroba) dated 1561 even included a specific item: ‘various portraits and other paintings and casts’. Listed among others are a ‘head of the duke Ercole I in plaster in a box’; heads in ‘plaster’ of Cardinal Ippolito d’Este and of the Duchess Eleonora d’Aragona; and an unspecified ‘portrait of

 6 Regarding what follows, see Giovanni Ricci, Il principe e la morte: Corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998), pp. 49–60; Giovanni Ricci, I giovani, i morti: Sfide al Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2007), pp. 153–69.  7 Mario Equicola di Alveto, Annali della città di Ferrara, Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea di Ferrara, MS II 355, s.p., ad annum; Paolo da Lignago, Cronica estense, Archivio di Stato di Modena, Biblioteca, MS 69, c. 354r.  8 Alessio Visdomini, Sopra l’avvenimento al seggio ducale di Ferrara di Ercole secondo e di Alfonso secondo, ed. by L. Maini (Modena: L. Maini, 1856), p. 23.  9 Gabriele Paleotti, ‘Discorso intorno alle imagini sacre et profane’, in Paola Barocchi (ed.), Trattati d’arte del Cinquecento fra manierismo e controriforma, 3 vols (Bari: G. Laterza e figli, 1961), vol. 2, p. 338; Paolo Prodi, Ricerca sulla teorica delle arti figurative nella Riforma Cattolica (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1984), pp. 40–44.

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his highness the Duke Ercole II’.10 One wonders whether this was the funeral effigy used two years earlier … Regardless of whether Duke Ercole seemed dead or alive during the funeral, everyone agreed on the fact that the effigy was quite realistic. By striving to copy a life that had just ended, it saved the individual features from oblivion; it did not settle for alluding to the personage by showing his genealogy or the attributes of his status, as had often been the case in medieval sculpture. In the transition between Middle and Modern Ages, the funerary effigies of princes denote a first attempt to portray likeness.11 Nevertheless, this new physiognomic approach had difficulties progressing, given the prevailing idealizing principles of royalty. In the meantime, a cast such as that of Duke Ercole took the naturalism of prior funerary sculpture to extremes. What emerges here is a specific relationship between portraiture and the occasion of death; and perhaps the eternal seduction of the Doppelgänger that lurks in the background. The funeral ceremony of 1559 in Ferrara, revolving around the effigy, is significant for its relative rarity. Rooted in the history of national monarchies, this ritual practice was not common in Italy, nor would it become so. In Ferrara itself, the predecessor of Ercole II d’Este, Alfonso I, who died in 1534, enjoyed a lavish but also unique funeral, observing the usual rules of leading Italian dynasties, as we can see in two anonymous miniatures painted shortly after the event [Plates XII and XIII]. In the double funeral of 1559 the wishes of the widow of Ercole II, Renata de Valois, are unambiguously expressed. She intended memories of her own family (her father Louis XII and her mother Anne of Brittany) to be recalled, and in ritual terms to associate the dukedom of Ferrara, by then absorbed into a Spanish-controlled Italy created by the peace of Cateau-Cambrésis, with France. A single further instance of the double funeral in effigy is recorded in Ferrara in 1561, for the wife of Duke Alfonso II d’Este, Lucrezia de’ Medici, daughter of the duke of Tuscany Cosimo I.12 What we may call for brevity the Salic Law forbade the conferring of such an honour on women, at least on those who had not held their office in their own right — as Anne of Brittany, hereditary duchess of Brittany before she became queen consort of France had done. As with Lucrezia de’ Medici, the sources lay stress on the early decomposition of her body, a functional limitation which would not of itself have been the principal cause for a double funeral being organized — at most it would have been enough

 10 Giuseppe Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi ed inventarii inediti di quadri, disegni, bronzi, dorerie, smalti, medaglie, avorii, ecc., dal secolo XV al secolo XIX (Modena: Tip. Di C. Vincenzi, 1870), pp. 39–40.  11 Roland Recht, ‘Le portrait et le principe de réalité dans la sculpture: Philippe le Bel et l’image royale’, in Akten des XXV. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte. Europäische Kunst um 1300, 9 vols (Vienna: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1986), vol. 6, pp. 189–201; Stephen Perkinson, The Likeness of the King: A Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2009).  12 Giovanni Ricci, ‘Prigioniera dei simboli: Lucrezia de’ Medici da Firenze a Ferrara’, in Giulia Calvi and Riccardo Spinelli (eds), Le donne Medici nel sistema europeo delle corti. XVI–XVIII secolo (Florence: Polistampa, 2008), pp. 227–30.

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to call for rituals with the coffin sealed. Rather we can count as precedent the funeral of her father-in-law, Ercole II, which took place two years previously. By conferring the highest honours on a woman, the Estense dynasty hoped to transform honours into a stable institution, strengthening in this way its aspiration to a royal crown. If this outcome did not happen for Ferrara, we may nevertheless see that the funeral of this Tuscan princess influenced the ambitious funerals of the Medici in Florence. In order to build a small catalogue of double funerals and funeral effigies in Italy, let us begin with Venice.13 Here, the first effigy funeral took place in 1485, when Doge Giovanni Mocenigo was cut down by plague and had to be buried post-haste. Until then, the funerals of doges had been characterized by modesty, in keeping with the idea that the destiny of the republic was independent of the personal fate of the elective prince. The doges’ effigies were subsequently used every so often until Figure 10.1. Funeral mask of the doge Francesco the eighteenth century, generally at Loredan (?), Venice, Museo Correr. the dying man’s request. In 1612, the austere Leonardo Donà, who played a leading role in Venice’s opposition to the papal Interdict, was the first doge who did not want to be embalmed, and was buried privately the very night he died. His body was replaced by a wax effigy for the rituals, which lasted several days, between the Doge’s Palace and the church of Santissimi Giovanni e Paolo. In an oil painting on canvas by Gabriel Bella (eighteenth century), the arrival of the funeral procession at the church is shown. The image depicted does not refer to a specific funeral, but generically to the funeral of a doge, therefore it can be taken as a visual compendium of a ceremonial tradition.

 13 Ricci, Il principe e la morte, pp. 119–20; Gherardo Ortalli, ‘Corpo serenissimo e sacco di paglia: Le onoranze funebri dei dogi’, in Paola Marini, Ettore Napione and Gian Maria Varanini (eds), Can­ grande della Scala: La morte e il corredo di un principe nel medioevo europeo (Venice: Marsilio, 2004), pp. 201–07.

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In 1623, Antonio Priuli likewise set down in his will that he did not want to be embalmed and that a ‘figure’ be placed on the litter, as had been done for his predecessor, Leonardo Donà. Yet the relationship between not embalming the body and the use of an effigy is not as close as these two episodes might lead us to believe. Embalming often went wrong — the nobleman and chronicler Marin Sanudo mentions the ‘great stench’ of doges’ corpses — but this is not why the effigy became an institution during a vacancy of dogal power. Indeed, there is no question that, when the effigy was employed in Venice, it acquired powerful values of substitution, to the point that seals could even be placed on it if the deceased had left outstanding debts — another instance of the effigy as Doppelgänger. The effigy had to bear a strong resemblance to the person portrayed. This was guaranteed by the skill of artisans who also made death masks — which are not the same thing as funerary effigies. Two relatively late death masks (said to be the Doges Alvise III Mocenigo, who died in 1732, Figure 10.2. Funeral effigy of the doge Alvise IV and Francesco Loredan, who died in Mocenigo (?), Venice, Arciconfraternita di San Rocco. 1762, Figure 10.1), and one funerary effigy (Alvise IV Mocenigo, who died in 1778, Figure 10.2) survive today and were displayed in an exhibition in 2011.14 Antonio Luciani was the most famous maker of death masks in Venice in the eighteenth century. He was so talented that some of those attending the doges’ funerals were deceived — or pretended to be — in order to ridicule the dead doge and the ceremony. This is what happened with the anonymous author of vernacular quatrains about the death of Giovanni Corner II in 1722. The poet was wandering through the calli when, ‘amidst a hundred torches’, he saw a bier coming towards him ‘borne by ships’ captains’. But princely mystique was the  14 See Andrea Daninos (ed.), Avere una bella cera: Le figure in cera a Venezia e in Italia (Milan: Officina libraria, 2012); in English as Waxing Eloquent: Italian Portraits in Wax (Milan: Officina libraria, 2012), pp. 78–87.

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last thing that came to mind: ‘A sack of straw and mask of wax / it’s the body of the Serenissimo / so that I would most certainly swear / that he was there in the air and in the wax’.15 Turning to Florence, effigies were used even more sporadically than in Venice.16 The Republic’s ideological structure authorized nothing of the kind for anyone, nor did the first century of Medici rule introduce anything new on the subject. Furthermore, the custom of burying the dead within a day made effigies unnecessary. However, the same cannot be said for the paintings and sculptures in gesso or wax that emulated the likeness of the dead, but were not used at funerals. According to Vasari, these artefacts, produced skilfully and ‘at low cost’, invaded every domestic recess: ‘a number of these life-like portraits may be seen in every house in Florence, over chimney-pieces, doors, windows and cornices’.17 Despite the evident connections, the hyper-realistic votive statues made of wax (the boti) offered at the church of Santissima Annunziata also had different purposes.18 Possibly facilitated by these technical traditions, the age of the funerary effigy with political significance finally reached Florence. In 1574, shortly after his upgrading to grand duke, Cosimo I de’ Medici was given a funeral in effigy at San Lorenzo church. Organized by his heir Francesco I, Cosimo’s funeral included references to the theory of the king’s two bodies (on an ideological level) and to Roman imperial apotheoses (on a formal level),19 emphasizing the legitimacy of instantaneous succession. Great care was lavished on the preparation of Cosimo’s effigy. The cast of the deceased grand duke was crafted and a sculptor in vogue at the time, Giambologna, made wax images of the face and hands that emerged from the effigy’s robes. No one forgot that some years previously, in 1561, a funeral was celebrated in Ferrara for Cosimo’s daughter, Lucrezia, and that some weeks after her death Lucrezia received a second, identical, funeral in Florence. Apparently, the absence of the corpse was irrelevant on both occasions. The Florentine reiteration was celebrated in the Medici basilica of San Lorenzo opposite her ‘true image … sculpted with artistic naturalism’, that is, opposite a realistic three-dimensional image. So says the court historian Benedetto Varchi in his official oration.20 This double precedent of Lucrezia — at Ferrara and Florence — ought to have made easier a decision to honour the death of Cosimo de’ Medici in princely fashion. But on the other hand, political considerations were pressing. Cosimo belonged to

 15 See Antonio Pilot, ‘Quartine vernacolari inedite in morte del doge Giovanni Corner II’, Nuovo archivio veneto, n.s., 14 (1914), 425–34 (430).  16 Ricci, Il principe e la morte, pp. 121–22.  17 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, ed. by G. Milanesi, 9 vols (Florence: Sansoni, 1906), vol. 3, p. 373.  18 A. M. Warburg, The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural History of the European Renaissance (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute for the History of Art and the Humanities, 1999).  19 Elias Bickermann, ‘Die römische Kaiserapotheose’, in Archiv für Religionswissenschaft (1929), 1–34.  20 Benedetto Varchi, Orazione […] nelle essequie dell’illustrissima […] Lucrezia de’ Medici duchessa di Ferrara (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1561).

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a dynasty of merchant parvenus (so the ancient feudal houses of the Este, the Gonzaga and the Savoy thought) and held a grand-ducal title conferred by the pope but not subsequently recognized by the emperor. Cosimo’s effigy, as was the case with Ercole II in Ferrara, was dressed in the same garments and with the same paraphernalia used the previous month to represent his body. A contemporary description summarizes the two functions satisfied by this mise-en-scène, substitution and likeness: ‘here was the duke’s dead body, and for it a fake statue that resembled him’.21 Once more, as in Ferrara but unlike the French custom, the new ruler, Francesco I de’ Medici, also attended the effigy’s funeral. Aside from differences in details, the effigy confirmed its prime meaning as a despairing attempt to negate the undeniable supremacy of death. In addition to the great capital cities of Venice and Florence, as well as the exceptional instance of Ferrara, in sixteenth-century Italy other states occasionally organized double funerals in which they expressed the ambitions of renaissance despotism. None of these cases represented a true symbolic use of effigies, with the partial exception of the Gonzaga lordships. Francesco II Gonzaga died in 1519, after death throes suffered in public. At once a pyramid-shaped catafalque was constructed, at the summit of which the sarcophagus was placed, in turn surmounted by an effigy of the marquis clad in armour. The catafalque of the Duke Guglielmo Gonzaga had a similar structure in 1587, with the exception that the stucco effigy wore a crown on its head and in its hands held other symbols of rule. Guglielmo’s wife was Eleonora, daughter of the Hapsburg Emperor Ferdinand I. Violating unwritten laws, as had already been done for Lucrezia de’ Medici, Eleonora too had an effigy for her funeral in 1594. But instead of being clothed as her rank dictated, this time the effigy was dressed in mourning and positioned at the base of the catafalque where the corpse was placed. Each of these modifications signal that the presence of an effigy did not equate to the celebration of a double funeral. At Mantua, the ceremony was always single, with the corpse and effigy lying close together and cleared away after a few days. Mantuan effigies served memorial and honorific rather than substitutive functions.22 Something similar happened at Milan in 1535 when Francesco II Sforza died without heirs.23 His body was conveyed in secret for burial, while the solemn ritual was restricted to an effigy without ducal insignia — Charles V was engaged in re-taking Milan, so that the eternity of the body politic was ruled out. Other important figures in Italy in fact joined in with the transalpine world. The dukes of Savoy, at least from 1383 with the funeral of Amadeus VI at Hautecombe Abbey, employed live performers wearing the armour of the dead person in place of a

 21 See Susanna Pietrosanti, Sacralità medicee (Florence: Firenze libri, 1991), p. 101 (‘il corpo morto del duca e per quello una statua finta che lo somigliava’).  22 Giovanni Ricci, ‘Les funérailles en effigie en Italie’, in Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, pp. 166–70.  23 Silvio Leydi, Sub Umbra Imperialis Aquilae: Immagini del potere e consenso politico nella Milano di Carlo V (Florence: Olschki, 1999), pp. 63–74.

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lifeless effigy.24 The same happened for the French commander Gaston de Foix, who died at the battle of Ravenna in 1512 and was buried at Milan under the regime of the marshal Jacques de Chabannes. A little later, the marshal organized the double funeral of Louis XII in Paris.25 We may recall that the king’s daughter, Renée, taking inspiration from this funeral, was responsible when she was duchess of Ferrara for the exequies of Ercole II d’ Este in 1559. Perhaps the removal of papal remains to a final resting place was also equivalent to a second funeral rite, a rite which began to emerge in the fourteenth century with the residence of the popes at Avignon.26 In the case of the popes, however, any connection with the theory of the king’s two bodies can be ruled out. In contrast to secular states, the eternity of the Church of Christ is sufficiently guaranteed by the double nature, earthly and heavenly, of papal theocracy.27

 24 Nadia Pollini, La mort du prince: Rituels funéraires de la maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994), pp. 93–94.  25 Silvio Leydi, ‘“Con pompa más triunfante que fúnebre”: I funerali milanesi di Gaston de Foix (25 aprile 1512)’, in Letizia Arcangeli (ed.), Milano e Luigi XII: Ricerche sul primo dominio francese in Lombardia (1499–1512) (Milan: Franco Angeli, 2002), pp. 59–73 (pp. 66–69); Alain Marchandisse and Jonathan Dumont, ‘Esiti funesti della vittoria di Ravenna. La morte e i funerali di Gaston de Foix, duca di Nemours’, in Dante Bolognesi, Giorgio Chittolini, Marco Pellegrini and Giovanni Ricci (eds), Ravenna 1512. La battaglia, la città, l’Europa (Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2014), pp. 101–115.  26 Maria Antonietta Visceglia, ‘La translation de la dépouille du Pontife romain: un rite de secondes funérailles’, in José Pedro Paiva (ed.), Religious Ceremonials and Images: Power and Social Meaning (1400–1750) (Coimbra: Palimage, 2002), pp. 87–102.  27 Paolo Prodi, The Papal Prince, One Body and Two Souls: The Papal Monarchy in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 1987); Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, The Pope’s Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000).

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Ferrara, Biblioteca Comunale Ariostea di Ferrara, MS II 355, Mario Equicola di Alveto, Annali della città di Ferrara Modena, Archivio di Stato di Modena, Biblioteca, MS 69, Paolo da Lignago, Cronica estense Early Printed Books

Varchi, Benedetto, Orazione […] nelle essequie dell’illustrissima […] Lucrezia de’ Medici duchessa di Ferrara (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1561) Primary Sources

Pilot, Antonio, ‘Quartine vernacolari inedite in morte del doge Giovanni Corner II’, Nuovo archivio veneto, n.s., 14 (1914), 425–34 Vasari, Giorgio, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, ed. by G. Milanesi, 9 vols (Florence: Sansoni, 1906), vol. 3 Visdomini, Alessio, Sopra l’avvenimento al seggio ducale di Ferrara di Ercole secondo e di Alfonso secondo, ed. by L. Maini (Modena: L. Maini, 1856) Secondary Sources

Arnold, J., ‘The “Pair of Straight Bodies” and “A Pair of Drawers” Dating from 1603 Which Clothe the Effigy of Queen Elizabeth I in Westminster Abbey’, Costume, 41 (2007), 1–10 Bickermann, Elias, ‘Die römische Kaiserapotheose’, Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, (1929), 1–34 Brown, Elizabeth A. R., ‘Refreshment of the Dead: Post Mortem Meals, Anne de Bretagne, Jean Lemaire de Belges, and the Influence of Antiquity on Royal Ceremonial’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funerailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 113–30 —— , ‘The French Royal Funeral Ceremony and the King’s Two Bodies. Ernst H. Kantorowicz, Ralph E. Giesey and the Construction of a Paradigm’, Micrologus, 22 (2014), 105–37 Campori, Giuseppe, Raccolta di cataloghi ed inventarii inediti di quadri, disegni, bronzi, dorerie, smalti, medaglie, avorii, ecc., dal secolo XV al secolo XIX (Modena: tip. di C. Vincenzi, 1870) Canetti, Luigi, Impronte di gloria. Effigie e ornamento nell’Europa cristiana (Rome: Carocci, impr., 2012) Chatenet, Monique, ‘Le dernier triomphe. Les funérailles royales de Charles VI à Henri IV’, in Le roi est mort, Exhibition cat., Versailles 26 octobre 2015–21 février 2016 (Paris: Tallandier/Château de Versailles, 2015), pp. 61–69

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Daninos, Andrea, ‘Qualche novità sulla scultura in cera fra Cinquecento e Settecento’, Prospettiva, (2008), 88–89 ——— (ed.), Avere una bella cera: Le figure in cera a Venezia e in Italia (Milan: Officina libraria, 2012); in English as Waxing Eloquent: Italian Portraits in Wax (Milan: Officina libraria, 2012) Deuffic, Jean-Luc, (ed.), ‘“Qu’il mecte ma povre ame en céleste lumière”. Les funérailles d’une reine: Anne de Bretagne (1514). Textes, images et manuscrits’, Pecia. Le livre et l’écrit, 15 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012) Giesey, Ralph, Cérémonial et puissance souveraine: France XVe–XVIIIe siècles (Paris: A. Collin, 1987) —— , Le roi ne meurt jamais: Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Ginzburg, Carlo, ‘Représentation: le mot, l’idée, la chose’, Annales. Economies, Societés, Civilisations (1991), 1219–34 Girault, Pierre-Gilles, Les funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne, reine de France. L’hermine regrettée, Exhibition cat. (Paris: Gourcuff-Gradenigo, 2014) Kantorowicz, Ernst H., The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957) Leydi, Silvio, Sub Umbra Imperialis Aquilae: Immagini del potere e consenso politico nella Milano di Carlo V (Florence: Olschki, 1999) —— , ‘“Con pompa más triunfante que fúnebre”: I funerali milanesi di Gaston de Foix (25 aprile 1512)’, in Letizia Arcangeli (ed.), Milano e Luigi XII: Ricerche sul primo dominio francese in Lombardia (1499–1512) (Milan: Franco Angeli, 2002), pp. 59–73 Litten, Julian, ‘The Funeral Effigy: Its Function and Purpose’, in Anthony Harvey and Richard Mortimer (eds), The Funeral Effigies of Westminster Abbey (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1994), pp. 3–19 Marchandisse, Alain and Jonathan Dumont, ‘Esiti funesti della vittoria di Ravenna. La morte e i funerali di Gaston de Foix, duca di Nemours’, in Dante Bolognesi, Giorgio Chittolini, Marco Pellegrini and Giovanni Ricci (eds), Ravenna 1512. La battaglia, la città, l’Europa (Ravenna: Longo editore, 2014), pp. 101–15 Ortalli, Gherardo, ‘Corpo serenissimo e sacco di paglia: Le onoranze funebri dei dogi’, in Paola Marini, Ettore Napione and Gian Maria Varanini (eds), Cangrande della Scala: La morte e il corredo di un principe nel medioevo europeo (Venice: Marsilio, 2004), pp. 201–07 Paleotti, Gabriele, ‘Discorso intorno alle imagini sacre et profane’, in Paola Barocchi (ed.), Trattati d’arte del Cinquecento fra manierismo e controriforma, 3 vols (Bari: G. Laterza e figli, 1961), vol. 2 Paravicini Bagliani, Agostino, Il corpo del Papa (Turin: G. Einaudi, 1994), in English as The Pope’s Body (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000) Perkinson, Stephen, The Likeness of the King: A Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009) Pietrosanti, Susanna, Sacralità medicee (Florence: Firenze libri, 1991) Pollini, Nadia, La mort du prince: Rituels funéraires de la maison de Savoie (1343–1451) (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne, 1994)

chapter 10. double funerals and funeral effigies in italian states

Prodi, Paolo, Il Sovrano pontefice: un corpo e due anime, la monarchia papale nella prima età moderna (Bologna: il Mulino, 1982), in English as The Papal Prince, One Body and Two Souls: The Papal Monarchy in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987) —— , Ricerca sulla teorica delle arti figurative nella Riforma Cattolica (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1984) Recht, Roland, ‘Le portrait et le principe de réalité dans la sculpture: Philippe le Bel et l’image royale’, in Akten des XXV. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte. Europäische Kunst um 1300, 9 vols (Vienna: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1986), vol. 6, pp. 189–201 Ricci, Giovanni, Il principe e la morte: Corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998) —— , ‘Les funérailles en effigie en Italie’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz 2002), pp. 159–70 —— , I giovani, i morti: Sfide al Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2007) —— , ‘Prigioniera dei simboli: Lucrezia de’ Medici da Firenze a Ferrara’, in Giulia Calvi and Riccardo Spinelli (eds), Le donne Medici nel sistema europeo delle corti. XVI–XVIII secolo (Florence: Polistampa, 2008), pp. 217–31 —— , ‘Le effigi funebri europee della prima Età moderna: varianti senza un modello?’, in Luigi Canetti (ed.), Statue. Rituali, scienza e magia dalla Tarda Antichità al Rinascimento (Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017), pp. 443–61 Sabatier, Gérard, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Engerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 17–47 Santrot, Jacques, Les doubles funérailles d’Anne de Bretagne. Le corps et le cœur (Geneva: Droz, 2017) Schlosser, Julius von, ‘Geschichte der Porträtbildnerei in Wachs. Ein Versuch’, in Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses in Wien, 29 (1911); in English as ‘History of Portraiture in Wax’, in Roberta Panzanelli (ed.), Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2008); in Italian in Andrea Daninos (ed.), Storia del ritratto in cera: Un saggio (Milan: Officina Libraria, 2011) Vernant, Jean-Pierre, Mythe et pensée chez les Grecs: Etudes de psychologie historique (Paris: F. Maspero, 1965) Visceglia, Maria Antonietta, ‘La translation de la dépouille du Pontife romain: un rite de secondes funérailles’, in José Pedro Paiva (ed.), Religious Ceremonials and Images: Power and Social Meaning (1400–1750) (Coimbra: Palimage Ed., 2002), pp. 87–102 Warburg, Aby Moritz, The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural History of the European Renaissance (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute for the History of Art and the Humanities, 1999).

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Chapter 11. The Funeral of Charles V Reassured by the final sacraments, surrounded by his close friends and family and a few notable figures, Charles V died in affliction on Wednesday 21 September 1558 at two in the morning at the monastery of Yuste, where he had decided to reside following his abdication.1 He received a brief funeral ceremony, modelled on a mock funeral with lighting, chants, mourning dress

* A preliminary remark: in accordance with the considerations of the editors of the present book and with the objectives of the collection to which it belongs, the following pages focus on the spectacle of death and establish the essentials of a synthesis created through numerous studies which it was possible for me to assemble on a subject which is not totally new; this chapter also contains more original paragraphs, based as they are on the sources, all of which are given here so as to permit the reader to explore further. I thank Renaud Adam (Université de Liège-Transitions) and Jonathan Dumont (Institut für Mittelalterforschung-Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften-Vienna) for the assistance they provided in producing this study.  1 Among his entourage are mentioned Luis Méndez de Quijada, his chamberlain, Martín de Gaztelu, his secretary, the doctor Henri Mathys, the Archbishop of Toledo, Bartolomé Carranza y Miranda, who went to Yuste to discuss political matters with the sovereign, as well as the bastard son of the latter and page of Quijada, the little Jeronimo, soon called Don Juan of Austria, the future victor of Lepanto. On the health and the death of Charles V, see Victor Guerrero Cabanillas, ‘Enfermedades y muerte de Carlos V’, Revista de Estudios Extremeños, 65 (3) (2009), 1163–1203. On the funeral of Charles V at Yuste, see principally: Louis-Prosper Gachard (ed.), Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint au monastère de Yuste. Lettres inédites, 3 vols (Introduction, 2 vol.) (Brussels: Commission royale d’histoire, 1854–1855), vol. 1, pp. 383–95, 397–414, 432–35, 439–41; vol. 2, pp. 501–03 (especially the letters of Quijada and Gaztelu; some of these are translated in Stanis Perez (ed.), La mort des rois. Documents sur les derniers jours de souverains français et espagnols, de Charles Quint à Louis XIV (Grenoble: Editions Jérôme Millon, 2006), pp. 129–36); Martín de Angulo, Vida y fin que ha tenido la cesaréa, sacra y real majestad de nuestro señor don Carlos, en este monasterio de San Jerónimo de Yuste, ed. by Domingo Sanchez Loro, La inquietud postrimera de Carlos V. El retiro imperial de Yuste a través de los cronistas (Cáceres: Publicaciones del Movimiento, 1958), pp. 21–55 (pp. 50–55); Hernando del Corral, Historia breve y sumaria de como el emperador don Carlos V, nustro señor, trato de vernirse a recoger al monasterio de San Jerónimo de Yuste […], ed. by Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 2, pp. 1–68 (pp. 49–57) (another edn by Sanchez Loro, La inquietud postrimera, pp. 71–154 (pp. 134–44)); Miguel Salvá and Pedro Sainz de Baranda (eds), Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España, 113 vols (Madrid: Imprenta de la viuda de calero, 1842–1895), vol. 6 (1843), pp. 667–70; Prudencio de Sandoval, Historia de la vida y hechos del emperador Carlos V […], ed. by Carlos Seco Serrano, Biblioteca de autores españoles desde la formación del lenguaje hasta nuestros dias (continuación), 305 vol. (Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, 1954–1999), vol. 82 (3) (1956), pp. 505–08 (on this subject, see José Goñi Gaztambide, ‘Art. Sandoval, Prudencio de’, Diccionario de Historia Eclesiástica de España, 5 vols (Madrid: Instituto Enrique Florez, 1972–1987), vol. 4 (1975), pp. 2174–79; José Maria Canal Sánchez-Pagín, ‘Fray Prudencio de Sandoval, obispo e

Alain Marchandisse is Maître de Recherche at the F.R.S.-FNRS, University of Liège, R.U. Transitions. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 223–245  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120760

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and weeping, organized three weeks before his death, on his own initiative, it is said.2 The deceased’s body was in all likelihood embalmed — during the various openings of the imperial sepulchre, a mummified body was discovered — cloaked in a dressing gown, a black taffeta fabric wrapped around his chest and the late empress’s crucifix placed over his heart, and crowned with an embroidered hat, then laid on his bed, where he was watched for hours by four monks. All of the fabric necessary for the decoration of the church where the funerary ceremonies were to take place, as well as for the group of attendees, was procured. The Emperor’s body, placed in a lead tomb covered with a wood envelope and topped with a black velvet pall, was introduced into the oratory and placed in a chapelle ardente facing the main altar. In the presence of the imperial household and monks of nearby establishments, the funeral

historiador (familia y estudios)’, Príncipe de Viana, 41 (158–59) (1980), 161–90); José de Sigüenza, Historia de la Orden de San Jerónimo, ed. by Juan Catalina García, 2 vols (Madrid: Bailly Baillière e Hijos, 2nd edn, 1907–1909), vol. 2, pp. 161–62; José de Sigüenza, El nido de aguila, ed. by Sanchez Loro, La inquietud postrimera, pp. 155–297 (pp. 255–57); Vicente de Cadenas y Vicent, Carlos de Habsburgo en Yuste (3-II-1557–21-IX-1558) (Madrid: Ediciones Hidalguía, 3rd edn 2000), pp. 141, 166–68; Reinier Cornelis Bakhuizen van den Brink, ‘La retraite de Charles-Quint. Analyse d’un manuscrit espagnol contemporain, par un religieux de l’ordre de Saint-Jérôme à Yuste’, Bulletin de la Commission royale d’histoire, Series 2, 1 (1851), 57–117 (106–12); Francisco Javier Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, ‘Exequias privadas y funerales de estado por Carlos I/V: Yuste y Bruselas (1558)’, Boletín de Arte, 22 (2001), 15–43 (21–29); Pierre Chaunu and Michèle Escamilla, Charles Quint (Paris: Fayard, 2000), pp. 718–19; William Stirling Maxwell, The Cloister Life of the Emperor Charles the Fifth (London: J. W. Parker & son, 3rd edn, 1853), pp. 246–50. Critique of the sources: Alfred MorelFatio, Historiographie de Charles-Quint, part I, followed by the Mémoires de Charles-Quint. Texte portugais et traduction française (Paris: H. Champion, 1913); Benito Sánchez Alonso, Historia de la historiografía española, 2 vols (Madrid: Imp. J. Sánchez de Ocaña, 1941–1944), vol. 2, De Ocampo a Solís (1543–1684); Chaunu and Escamilla, Charles Quint, pp. 796–806.  2 On this famous and controversial question, see the various divergent opinions, among others, of Gachard — founded, among the sources related to the Emperor’s last days, on the report of Hernando del Corral, monk of Yuste (Hernando del Corral, Appendice C. Extrait du séjour de Charles-Quint à Yuste, par un Religieux de ce couvent, ed. by Gachard, Retraite et mort de CharlesQuint, vol. 1, pp. lxxxviii-xc), the Historia de la Orden de San Jerónimo of José de Sigüenza ( José de Sigüenza, Appendice D. Extrait de l’Histoire de l’Ordre de Saint-Jérôme, ed. by Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 1, pp. xc-xcii) and the account of the prior of Yuste, Martín de Angulo (texts assembled and translated in Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 1, pp. lii-lxvi), and confronted with the correspondence of the Emperor’s close circle which say nothing (Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 1, pp. 322, 324, 326, 420): in 1855 (Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 2, p. clv), he ‘was inclined to believe more so than to doubt’ (‘incline à croire plus qu’à douter’) the episode; of Stephanie Schrader, ‘“Greater than Ever He Was”. Ritual and Power in Charles V’s 1558 Funeral Procession’, in Reindert Falkenburg, Jan de Jong, Mark Meadow, Bart Ramakers, and Herman Roodenburg (eds), Hof-, Staats- en Stadsceremonies/Court, State and City Ceremonies, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek/Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, 49 (1998), 68–93 (69), which he considered proven (avérée); of Stanis Perez (ed.), La mort des rois, pp. 87–88, which he calls ‘unverifiable, yet possible’ (‘invérifiable, quoque plausible’); and of Cadenas y Vicent, Carlos de Habsburgo en Yuste, pp. 135–38, which he qualifies as absurd. Summary of the question by Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, Exequias privadas y funerales, 16–21. Without wanting to take a position on this question here, note that the attitude of Érard de La Marck, bishop-prince of Liège (1505–1538), who, in his lifetime, obliged all of his religious colleagues of Liège to visit his tomb, already constructed, the day of the procession of Saint Lambert, seems quite comparable. See Paul Bruyère, ‘Érard de La Marck, promoteur en 1512 de la procession de la translation de saint Lambert’, Bulletin de la Société royale ‘Le Vieux-Liège’, 16 (2012), 129–76 (156).

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took three days, accompanied by chants and funerary music, vigils, masses celebrated by the Archbishop of Toledo and sermons which would survive for a long while in all the memories. On 23 September, once the codicil amending the imperial testament had been read in the presence of the civil authorities of Plasencia, the putrid odour exhaled by the body made burial a matter of urgency. The monks of Yuste accepted that it would take place in their church; the coffin would be placed without delay under the great altar — in the crypt, it seems — in such a fashion that, as the Emperor desired, the priest would stand upon his head and chest during celebrations, but without affronting canon law prescriptions reserving burial under the altar for saints and their relics. The next day, the external assistants of the Hieronymite monastery having taken their leave, the clergy of Yuste continued the ceremonies with the same solemnity, asta el novenario, and prayers of intercession and masses multiplied everywhere. Following this first funeral, which the Emperor had wanted to be modest,3 but which nonetheless observed the pomp appropriate for an august deceased, thanks primarily to its music, Charles V knew a number of other ceremonies — 3700 (as has often been noted).4 To be precise, these were grandiose commemorations absent from the mortal body, which took place throughout the ensemble of countries over which Charles had reigned as well as beyond, according to Philip II’s well-developed programme which had the objective of advertising the transmission of the Spanish crown from father to son. From 28–29 October 1558 to 30 November–1 December the following year, ceremonies were organized from Barcelona5 to Lima,6 and  3 Charles Quint, Testamento y codicilo de Yuste, transcr. by José Luis de la Peña, introd. by Manuel Fernández Alvarez (Madrid: Edit. Nacional, 1982; re-ed. 2000), p. 36; the testament is dated 6 January 1554, the codicil 9 September 1558.  4 Gregorio Leti, Vita dell’Invittissimo Imperadore Carlo V. Austriaco, 4 vols (Amsterdam: Georges Gallet, 1700), vol. 4, p. 413.  5 On Spanish royal funerals, see María Adelaida Allo Manero and Juan Francisco Esteban Lorente, ‘El estudio de las exequias reales de la monarquía hispana: siglos XVI, XVII y XVIII’, Artigrama, 19 (2004), 39–94 (notably for its methodology and bibliography); Maria Adelaida Allo Manero and Juan Francisco Esteban Lorente, ‘Les catafalques dans les funérailles royales espagnoles, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Rennes-Versailles, Presses Universitaires de Rennes-Centre de recherche du Château de Versailles, 2012–2015), vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (2013), pp. 297–325; Maria Adelaida Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V en la monarquía hispana’, in María José Redondo Cantera and Miguel Ángel Zalama (eds), Carlos V y las artes. Promoción artística y familia imperial (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León-Universidad de Valladolid, 2000), pp. 261–82 (pp. 261–75).  6 11–12 November 1559. José Torre Revello, ‘La crónica de las exequias de Carlos V en la ciudad de los Reyes. Año 1559’, Boletín del Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, 10, 14 (51–52) (1932), 60–78; Sonia V. Rose, ‘La hija pródiga del Imperio: Honras fúnebres a Carlos V en la Ciudad de Los Reyes’, in Mariel Reinoso and Lilian von der Walde (eds), Dossier Virreinatos, Revista destiempos.com, 3 (14) (March–April 2008), 129–41. For a lack of place, we can’t here evoke the funeral of Charles V ‘in the Indies’, funerals which were quite close to those organized in Spain (they were evidently influenced by these latter events), notably in the habitual ‘túmulo’, but, of course, in new cities, which had limited populations. On these South American ceremonies, see Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, pp. 279–81; Franck Lafage, Le théâtre de la mort. Lecture politique de l’apparat funèbre dans l’Europe du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012), pp. 227–35.

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Mexico,7 passing through Toledo, Alcalá de Henares,8 Zaragoza,9 Saint James of Compostela,10 Valladolid,11 Seville,12 Madrid,13 Piacenza, Brussels, Milan, Augsburg, Naples, Rome, and Bologna.14 In Spain, in Toledo,15 for example, on 13 and 14 of November 1558, the ceremonies were certainly characterized by the mourning of representatives of the public authorities, a procession, chants, and cries, but, among a funeral device ‘más solenes que los vivos vieron ni oyeron’, funerals over which the Archbishop had presided, it is the catafalque, placed in the cathedral ‘túmulo o cadahalso en medio de los dos coros de esta Santa Iglesia’, made of four levels, which caught

 7 Francisco Cervantes de Salazar, México en 1554 y Túmulo imperial, ed. by Edmundo O’Gorman (Mexico: [n. pub.], 1985), pp. 173–212.  8 16–17 November 1558. Fernando Checa, ‘Un programa imperialista: el túmulo erigido en Alcalá de Henares en memoria de Carlos V’, Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos, 82 (1979), 369–79; Francisco-Javier Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, ‘Exequias en la Universidad de Alcalá por el emperador Carlos V’, in Actas del IV Encuentro de Historiadores del Valle del Henares, Alcalá de Henares, noviembre de 1994 (Alcalá de Henares: Institución de Estudios Complutenses, [1994]), pp. 103–12.  9 26–27 November, 1558. Antonio Polo, Caenotaphium in obitu Caroli V Imperatoris Caesaraugustae celebrato (Zaragoza: [no. pub.], 1558), non vidi, after Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, p. 272 note 18.  10 27–28 November 1558. Fernando Bouza Brey, ‘Las exequias del emperador Carlos I en la Catedral de Santiago’, Cuadernos de Estudios gallegos, 14 (43) (1959), 267–76.  11 2 December, 1558. Juan Cristóbal Calvete de Estrella, El Túmulo Imperial, adornado de Historias y Letreros y Epitaphios en Prosa y verso Latino (Valladolid: Francisco Fernandez de Cordoue, 1559); Juan José Abella Rubio, ‘El túmulo de Carlos V en Valladolid’, Boletín del Seminario de Estudios de Arte y Arqueología, 44 (1978), 177–200. Funerals organized by the order of Joana of Castile, the daughter of the deceased and regent of Spain in the absence of Philip II, who was then in England and the Low Countries.  12 4–5 December 1558. Description of the Exequias del invictíssimo emperador Carlos V en Sevilla by Laurencio de San Pedro from fols 162r-87r of MS Sevilla, Biblioteca Colombina y Capitular, 59–1-3, according to Bartolomé Pozuelo Calero, the editor of Francisco Pacheco, El túmulo de la reina doña Ana de Austria, ed. by Bartolomé Pozuelo Calero (Alcañiz-Madrid: CSIC, 2004), p. ci; 84–7-19, after Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, p. 270 note 14.  13 7–13 December 1558.  14 On the Italian ceremonies, see Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, pp. 275–79; Minou Schraven, Festive Funerals in Early Modern Italy. The Art and Culture of Conspicuous Commemoration (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2014), pp. 53–80; Jaynie Anderson, ‘“Le roi ne meurt jamais”: Charles V’s Obsequies in Italy’, in Evelio Verdera y Tuells (ed.), El Cardenal Albornoz y el Colegio de España, vol. 5, Studia Albornotiana, 36 (1979), 379–94. This list is undoubtedly incomplete, notably for South America, where there were ceremonies at Potosí (Bolivia, dep. Potosí, prov. Tomás Frías) and also, very probably, in Cuzco (Peru) and Quito (Ecuador) (Rose, ‘La hija pródiga del Imperio’, 129–30 note 1); Hugo Hernán Ramírez, ‘Las relaciones fúnebres sobre la muerte de Carlos V: aproximación a una tradición discursiva’, Calíope, 15 (1) (2009), 85–109 (91)). The celebrations in Lisbon organized by Catherine of Portugal, wife of King John III and youngest sister of Charles V; in France at Notre-Dame and other churches under the guidance of King Henri II; in London, and even in Constantinople, at the request of Queen Elizabeth I and of the Sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent, have been evoked (Anderson, ‘“Le roi ne meurt jamais”’, 381–82 (who does not provide a reference); Achim Aurnhammer and Friedrich Däuble, ‘Die Exequien für Kaiser Karl V. in Augsburg, Brüssel und Bologna’, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 62–63 (1980–1981), 101–57 (153–54); Schraven, Festive Funerals, p. 54).  15 Sebastián de Horozco, Memoria de las honras que se hizieron en esta çibdad de Toledo por la muerte de el emperador don Carlos, nuestro señor, que es en gloria, ed. by Jack Weiner, Relaciones históricas toledanas (Toledo: Instituto Provincial de Investigaciones y Estudios Toledanos, 1981), pp. 169–74.

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the attention of witnesses and chroniclers. In the ceremonial perspective of this study, one notes on the first level the presence of an important heraldic apparatus, of una grande tumba covered with rich brocade fabric and the armas reales given by the Catholic kings to the cathedral of Toledo, of a ‘coxín de brocado y ençima una grand corona imperial y un estoque dorado desenbaynado tenido sobre la tumba’ and, in the corners, of four kings of arms wearing arms and mourning vestments in gold and silver, and holding golden rods. Above, and on the upper levels, appeared eulogies to the deceased, enormous heraldic giants dressed in black with the arms of each country over which the late Emperor Charles had reigned, paintings that represented his victories, his son, Philip, his grandfather, the Emperor Maximilian, Kings John II and Ferdinand of Aragon, as well as, among others, the figures of virtues and of boats, all punctuated by innumerable heraldic elements, in which black competed with gold, and significant lighting fixtures — all placed in the contemplative ambiance created by the celebrations and the chants of the members of all the religious orders. Italy also wished to render the homage owed to the deceased Emperor.16 In addition to a requiem mass and an oration, the funerary ceremony, organized in Piacenza to honour Charles’ natural daughter, Margaret, Duchess of Parma and of Piacenza,17 principally consisted of a procession of individuals dressed in mourning habits walking from the ducal residence to the cathedral of Piacenza. In Milan,18 the cortège counted amongst its ranks the city’s governor and the commander-in-chief of the Spanish army in Piedmont and Lombardy, the Duke of Sessa and the Marquis of Pescara y Vasto, both of whom wore the Golden Fleece and were followed by urban authorities and the ambassadors of Savoy, Ferrara, and Mantua. Nevertheless, in these towns as well as in Naples,19 at the church of Saint John of the Spaniards in Rome,20 during solemnities organized  16 Schraven, Festive Funerals, specifies, pp. 68–69, 78 notes 75–77, that orations were also pronounced on 13 November, 10 and 12 December in Ferrara, Florence, and Lucca, as well as 2 January 1559 in Genoa. In Rome, on 12 December 1558, a papal ceremony took place in the Sistine Chapel in the presence of Pope Paul IV and his court, accustomed to celebrate the funerals of the owners of the Empire, here ‘vacato per la morte di Carlo, e non pel suo rinunziamento’ (Anderson, ‘“Le roi ne meurt jamais”’, 381–82).  17 16 December 1558 (Schraven, Festive Funerals, p. 69). Tiberio Pandola, Il funerale dello Imperatore fatto dalla M. Communità di Piacenza nella Giesa Maggiore con dietro le ultime parole che Sua Maestà disse avanti la sua morte cavate da una lettera mandata in Italia (Piacenza: Pietro Pugnetti, 1558), non vidi, after Schraven, Festive Funerals, pp. 69, 79 note 79.  18 9 January 1559. Essequie celebrate con solenne Pompa nella Chiesa del Duomo di Milano per la Cesarea Maesta di Carlo Quinto Imperatore Romano, & per la Serenissima Regina Maria d’Inghilterra ([n. p. n. p.], 1559); Francesco Grassi, Oratio. Habita Mediolani in funere Caroli V. Imp. Caes. Aug. (Milan: Francesco Moscheni, 1959); Sonia G. Grandis, ‘Teatri di sontuosissima e orrida maestà. Trionfo della morte e trionfo del re nelle pompe funebri regali’, in Annamaria Cascetta and Roberta Carpani (eds), La scena della gloria. Drammaturgia e spettacolo a Milano in età spagnola (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1995), pp. 659–715 (pp. 663–65).  19 24 February 1559.  20 4 March 1559 (Schraven, Festive Funerals, p. 55). Prudencio de Sandoval, Historia de la vida y hechos del emperador Carlos V, pp. 517–529; Joan De Montoya, Relacion de las honras, y exequias del Emperador Carlos V de buena memoria (Rome: 1598), non vidi, according to Schraven, Festive Funerals, pp. 53–54, 72–73 (with unpublished sources); Minou Schraven, ‘Contesting Supremacy. Funerals

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by the Spanish nation of the city, as well as at the Spanish College of Bologna21 — in 1530, Charles had received the imperial crown from Pope Clement VII at Saint Petronius —, it is once more the imposing catafalque, an apparato, that attracted much notice. To give just one example, in Rome during the celebrations at which Philip II’s minister, along with ambassadors, numerous cardinals and bishops representing the Holy See, and the ensemble of Spaniards living in Rome, were present among a profusion of torches and candles (so numerous that a window had to be opened to prevent the attendees’ suffocation), of amidst black drapery, trophies, banners and emblems, in addition to 13 monochromatic canvases presenting the deceased Emperor’s victories, there stood the majestic apparatus. With its usual trappings of heraldic elements and inscriptions, the catafalque was, like its most sophisticated Spanish homologues of the time, spread over four levels, and featured 12 Doric columns with golden bases and capitals. Sixteen paintings illustrating the female virtues with emblems to the deceased’s glory appeared on the second and third floors, while the ensemble was surrounded with a triumphal chariot driven by four white horses accompanied by a representation of Victory, who was crowned with laurels and carrying a palm, called to drive Charles’ soul to the heavens. Four men dressed in black had the mission of protecting the bier, with its cloth-of-gold pall and the imperial insignia, found inside the baldachin’s interior, from the insects. After the requiem mass and oration, the bier received absolution from four bishops. Among the most recent pages devoted to Charles V’s funeral à apparati in Spain and Italy,22 funerals which demonstrated, through the ‘túmulo’, ‘la generalización de un intencionado y novedoso proceso de introducción de imágenes plásticas en el codificado aparato fúnebre de tradición medieval’,23 some more traditional (at Saint James of Compostela or Barcelona, for example), others more monumental and innovative, at Toledo, as we have seen, and also at Seville, but particularly at Valladolid and undoubtedly in all the Italian towns — these latter presented the most evolved form of the ephemeral funerary apparatus which derived from the medieval example —24 one must remember that even if each ceremony was a unique production, its sophisticated iconographic programme, with its paintings, sculptures, and ephemeral emblems, always had the goal of celebrating the deceased’s virtues, his achievements, and his imperial identity. The ceremony thus reached its apotheosis, a modern avatar which was very close in its proceedings to the consecratio or the apotheôsis in which Roman emperors had been deified. of the Spanish Monarchy in the Church of San Giacomo degli Spagnoli in Rome, 1497–1559’, in É. Bousmar, H. Cools, J. Dumont and A. Marchandisse (eds), Le corps du prince, Micrologus, 22 (2014), 367–91 (387–90).  21 L’essequie fatte per la morte dell’Imp. Carlo Quinto nell’honoratissimo Collegio di Spagna in Bologna. M.D.LIX, ed. by Jaynie Anderson, ‘“Le roi ne meurt jamais”’, 395–99; Aurnhammer and Däuble, ‘Die Exequien für Kaiser Karl V’, 135–52.  22 Schraven, Festive Funerals, pp. 53–80; see once again Ramírez, ‘Las relaciones fúnebres’, 85–109.  23 Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, p. 261.  24 Allo Manero and Esteban Lorente, Les catafalques, pp. 299, 302–03 and passim.

c hapte r 11. the funera l of cha rles  v

Figure 11.1. Augsburg, funeral, crowned helm, 24–25 February 1559, Aigentliche beschreibung […], Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek.

It seems that the only funeral ceremony organized in Charles V’s honour in the territories which, after all, had formed the base of his imperial crown, the most illustrious, but not of a radiant power, took place in Augsburg from 24 to 25 February 1559 on the initiative of Charles’ brother and successor, Emperor Ferdinand I.25 This was, moreover, a major politico-religious act. Rome had not yet  25 [Friedrich Staphylus?], Aigenntliche, unnd warhaffte Beschreibung , weß bey der herrlichen Besingknuß, so die Röm. Kay. May. Kaiser Ferdinand etc. irer May. lieben Bruder unnd Herrn Kayser Carlen dem fünfften, Hochlöblichster gedächtnuß, am 24. und 25. februarii, des 59. Jars, ordenlich und zierlich gehalten, sich allenthalben verloffen unnd zugetragen (Dillingen: [n. pub.], 1559); Friedrich Staphylus, Historia de vita, morte, et iustis Caroli V. Maximi, Imperatoris Rom. etc. nunc recens edita, & variis illustrata virtutum fortunaeque exemplis (Augsburg: Philipp Ulhart, 1559); Aigentliche beschreibung mit sambt der abcontrafectum der Panner unnd Pferde von Lauder samet sein bedeckht gwessen Wer die selbigen tragen unnd gefuert haben mit namen beschriben so die Rö. Kay. Mt. Kaiser Ferdinandt etc. Irer Mt. geliebten Herrn und Brueder Kaiser Carlen den Funfften Hochloblicher gedechtnuß am 24 unnd 25 februari zu Augspurg solliche besingckhnuß gehalten worden ist Im 1559 Jarr (Vienna:

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confirmed Ferdinand’s imperial title — it never will — and the Bavarian town was eminently tied to Protestantism. These ceremonies consisted of a procession of individuals dressed in black moving towards the cathedral, with vigils on the 24th followed the next day by the funeral. The clergy who assembled at the church of Saint Maurice were joined by the court clergy, the town’s representative, the Emperor’s and the princes’ household. Appearing next were representations of the diverse States over which Charles had reigned, with the spectacle of the Empire appearing last. This included draperies and saddle blankets decorating the horses, the Klagroß, the mourning mount [Plate XIV], then the objects of honour — the crowned helm, escutcheon, paludamentum (Kürisklaid, the court’s mantle), and the sword of the court26 — soon joined by the sceptre, the globe, and the crown, symbols of the deceased’s imperial rank (Figures 11.1 and 11.2). The representatives of the diet and the mourners, with Ferdinand at their head, were followed by the envoys of the electors and the imperial council. In the black-decorated Augsburg cathedral there was an imposing castrum doloris of black-painted wood Figure 11.2. Augsburg, funeral, crowned helm, with its covering of candles (close to examples Augsburg, Diözesanmuseum St Afra. from Spain or Italy but, it seems, of an even greater simplicity), the Emperor’s plus ultra motto, the two-headed imperial eagle crowned and figures dressed à l’antique holding escutcheons. During the funerary masses, these were joined by all of the elements which had evoked the Emperor during the procession, in particular the imperial insignia, which were placed on the bier inside the chapelle ardente.

Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, MS 7566 —https://digital.onb.ac.at/RepViewer/viewer. faces?doc=DTL_2986455&order=1&view=SINGLE); Aurnhammer and Däuble, ‘Die Exequien für Kaiser Karl V’, 104–16; Naïma Ghermani, Le prince et son portrait. Incarner le pouvoir dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2009), pp. 278–79.  26 The helm, the escutcheon and the sword are conserved to this day at Diözesanmuseum St Afra of Augsburg (Inv. DM IX 12). On these objects, see Hugo Soly and Johan Van de Wiele, Carolus. Charles Quint 1500–1558 (Ghent, Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 1999), p. 321, numbers 233–35; Wilfried Seipel (ed.), Kaiser Karl V. (1500–1558). Macht und Ohnmacht Europas. Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien 16. Juni bis 10. September 2000 (Vienna: KHM, 2000), pp. 352–53; Bruno Thomas, ‘Die Augsburger Funeralwaffen Kaiser Karls V. Ein Beitrag zur 400. Wiederkehr des Tages seiner Totenfeier’, Waffen- und Kostümkunde. Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für historische Waffen- und Kostümkunde, Serie 3, 1 (1959), 28–45.

c hapte r 11. the funera l of cha rles  v

Figure 11.3. Frans Hogenberg, the funeral procession of Charles V in Brussels, engraving, 1559.

If Charles’ Spanish and Italian solemnities were spectacular and innovative with regard to the catafalque, one must recognize that in terms of human deployment, the solemnities offered to the deceased in Brussels from 29–30 December 1558 (which must be considered as the official State funeral) were unrivalled (Figure 11.3).27 This event also shows how close Joyous Entries were to princely funerals, which were also entries, but into the heavens.28 A precise idea of these events  27 Schraven, Festive Funerals, pp. 56–61; Francisco-Javier Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, ‘Los funerales de Carlos V en Bruselas (29/30-XII-1558)’, Carlos I y su tiempo. Actas del Congreso Beresit III Toledo (Toledo: Archivo Municipal de Toledo, 2002), pp. 319–33; Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, ‘Exequias privadas’, 15–21, 30–43; Lafage, Le théâtre de la mort, pp. 37–50; Schrader, ‘“Greater than Ever He Was’”, 68–93 (an interpretation which I find a bit outrageous); Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, pp. 262–65; Jean Jacquot, ‘Panorama des fêtes et cérémonies du règne. Évolution des thèmes et des styles’, in Jean Jacquot, Elie Konigson (eds), Les fêtes de la Renaissance, 3 vols (Paris: Centre de la recherche scientifique, 1956–1972), vol. 2, Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint. IIe Congrès de l’Association Internationale des Historiens de la Renaissance (2e section), Bruxelles, Anvers, Gand, Liège, 2–7 septembre 1957 (1960), pp. 467–73, 490–91, plates XLV-XLVII; Aurnhammer and Daüble, ‘Die Exequien für Kaiser Karl V’, 117–35, which mentions, pp. 117–19 and notes, several sources of which we could not have been aware.  28 A coincidence (?): in 1549, during Philip II’s Joyous Entry into Brussels, the Emperor and his son celebrated the tenth anniversary of the death of Charles V’s wife. See Jean de Vandenesse, Journal des voyages de Charles Quint, after Paul van Peteghem, ‘Une oraison funèbre pas comme les autres: celle

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is possible thanks not only to detailed accounts,29 but also to a very long frieze composed of engravings for which we owe the drawing (and also most probably the printing) to the Antwerp printer and engraver Hieronymus Cock, and its realization to brothers Johannes and Lucas Duetecom. The frieze appears in a commemorative album edited in several languages by Christophe Plantin and largely financed by the Milanese herald of arms, Pierre de Vernois, with the support of Margaret of Parma.30 This time it was Philip II, present on site but confined for two months to the priory of Groenendael where he observed the

de François Richardot pour Charles V. Les pompes funèbres de Bruxelles (29 et 30 décembre 1558)’, in Jacques Paviot, André Tourneux, Joost Vander Auwera (eds), Liber Amicorum Raphaël De Smedt, 4 vols (Leuven: Peeters, 2011), vol. 3, Historia, éd. Jacques Paviot, pp. 259–87 (p. 263).  29 These reports often converge on the essential, however they are also sometimes quite specific in their details: the order of the cortège, the importance of the representations, and so on; a detailed comparison of these texts is not possible here: Vandenesse, Journal des voyages de Philippe II, in Louis-Prosper Gachard and Charles Piot (eds), Collection des voyages des souverains des Pays-Bas, 4 vols (Brussels: F. Hayez, 1874–1882), vol. 4, Charles Piot (ed.), pp. 1–82 (pp. 34–62) (Vandenesse was close to the Habsburgs and described a number of princely funerals. He must have remembered those of these earlier sovereigns, and, above all, obviously organized those which are in question here.); De exequiis Reginae Mariae Angliae, et Caroli Quinti Imperatoris Maximi, Brussellae celebratis. Cum additione Inscriptionum [Dillingen: [n. pub.], 1559]; Letter from Richard Clough to Thomas Gresham, 2 January 1559, in Joseph Kervyn de Lettenhove (ed.), Relations politiques des Pays-Bas et de l’Angleterre sous le règne de Philippe II, 11 vols (Brussels: F. Hayez, 1882–1900), vol. 1, pp. 380–85; Nicolas Mameranus/de Mamer, Solemnitas exequiarum Caroli V imperatoris, Mariae, reginae Angliae, Mariae, reginae Hungariae, in Jules Chifflet (ed.), Pièces historiques cérémoniales, 4 vols (Besançon: Bibliothèque municipale, Fonds Chifflet, MS 68), vol. 4, pp. 185–203 — a text which requires more research and contains a certain number of precisions which cannot be discussed here for a lack of space; Prudencio de Sandoval, Historia de la vida y hechos del emperador Carlos V, pp. 509–16; Alfonso de Ulloa, Vita dell’invittissimo, e sacratissimo Imperator Carlo V (Venice: Vincenzo Valgrisio, 1566), fols 336v-39v; Pasquier de Le Barre, Journal d’un bourgeois de Tournai. Second livre des chroniques (1500–1565), ed. by Gérard Moreau (Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique. Commission royale d’histoire, 1975), pp. 392–96 (vigils and funeral masses at the cathedral of Tournai, in January (?) 1559); Bernardetto Minerbetti, L’esequie di Carlo Quinto Imperadore fatte nella Villa di Bruscelles (Florence: Lorenzo Torrentino (Laurens Leenaertsz van den Bleeck), 1559), non vidi, after Schraven, Festive Funerals, pp. 56, 73, ‘la más conocida pues conforma la versión italiana de la descripción de los funerales carolinos en el famoso libro de exequias […] Plantin’ and ‘el modelo a partir del cual el que el resto de relaciones se articulan’ (on this topic, see Annette Popel Pozzo, ‘Un “Torrentino” ignoto per le esequie di Carlo V. La placchetta del 1559 sfuggita ai repertori’, La Biblioteca di via Senato, 4 (6) ( June 2012), 12–19; more generally: María José Bertomeu Masia, ‘Aproximación a los textos italianos del siglo XVI entorno al funeral de Carlos V’, e-Spania [online] , online since 1 February 2014, accessed 15 June 2020).  30 La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles, le XXIX. jour du mois de decembre M.D.LVIII. aux obseques de l’empereur Charles V. de tres digne memoire, icy representee par ordre, et figures, selon les mysteres d’icelle (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559); Léon Voet, The Plantin Press (1555–1589). A Bibliography of the Works printed and published by Christopher Plantin in Antwerp and Leiden, 6 vols (Amsterdam: Van Hoeve, 1980–1983), vol. 3 (1980), pp. 603–08, numbers 939, 939A; Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, p. 262; Jan Gustaaf de Brouwère, ‘La magnifique et somptueuse Pompe funèbre de Charles-Quint — 1558’, Annuaire de la Société héraldique luxembourgeoise, 3 (1950), 47–62. The Spanish edition contains one engraving more than the other editions, which contain 33. In 1619, editor of prints Hondis put a reprint containing three supplementary plates representing a macabre dance up for sale (de Brouwère, La magnifique et somptueuse pompe, 52, 59, 62; Jacquot, ‘Panorama des fêtes et cérémonies du règne’, pp. 472–73, plate XLV, 2; Allo Manero, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V’, p. 262).

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mourning period31 (and where he was soon to receive the news of the death of his second wife, Mary Tudor, Queen of England) who was the maître d’oeuvre, in a location judged to be more appropriate for this funeral: the royal palace in which Charles had abdicated in 1555, renouncing power over his lands in favour of Philip.32 This funeral was part of the ceremonies required in each ecclesiastical establishment in Philip’s States, along with the ringing of the bells. In these circumstances, the ultimate and decisive step in the process which made Philip II the successor of Charles V, which gave Philip the opportunity to give substance to his royal status in a troubled political period and to commune with his subjects, that is the Burgundian ceremonial, adopted for the funerals of Charles’ parents, Philip the Fair, in Mechelen on 18–19 July 1507, and Joan of Aragon-Castille in Brussels on 15–16 September 1555 (the first organized by Margaret of Austria and the second by Charles V himself ),33 which would also be followed for the funeral of the deceased Emperor. In the early afternoon of 29 December, the cortège ‘de la representación dolorosa’ advanced for the vigils.34 Ordered by the herald of the Order of the Golden Fleece, alias Golden Fleece, Antoine de Beaulaincourt, inside the enclosure of the royal palace of Coudenberg, which was decorated in mourning colours, the cortège reached the collegiate church of Saint Gudule, where religious ceremonies must have occurred. The cortège was protected from the crowd by barriers, behind which were 2000 representatives of the trades of Brussels, each holding a candle bearing the arms of the deceased. Following several guards, a group of ecclesiastics opened the procession: many of them held candles. The clergy of Brussels, who had earlier followed the path from the collegiate church to the palace, the cantors of the royal chapel in mourning garments covered in coats of cloth-of-gold, their hood on their shoulders, the king’s ordinary chaplains, followed by dozens of prelates, abbots, and bishops — three suffragan bishops and the bishops of Liège and Arras, Robert de Berghes and Antoine Perrenot of Granvelle —, some wearing their order’s habit and others in pontifical vestments. Then came the

 31 Retreat seems to have been habitually associated with funerals. Thus, after his wife’s funeral in Toledo, Charles V practically retired for two months in a monastery, just as Philip II commemorated the fourth anniversary of his first wife’s death in a Brussels establishment. Vandenesse, Journal des voyages de Charles Quint, cited by van Peteghem, ‘Une oraison funèbre’, pp. 262–63 (p. 150 to be corrected on 151, for the first case; pp. 309–311 are erroneous on the second).  32 Letter of the English commissioners to the Council of England, 4 November 1558, in Kervyn de Lettenhove (ed.), Relations politiques, vol. 1, p. 272.  33 Two precisions: it was during the funeral of Philip the Fair that Charles fully succeeded him; in 1548, the former had imposed the Spanish court’s adoption of Burgundian etiquette (Christina Hofmann-Randall, Das spanische Hofzeremoniell 1500–1700 (Berlin: Frank & Timme, re-ed., 2012), pp. 43 and following; Javier Varela, La muerte del rey. El ceremonial funerario de la monarquía española (1500–1885) (Madrid: Turner, n.d.), p. 15; Jean-Marc Buiguès, La ‘monarchie catholique’ de Philippe II et les Espagnols (Paris: Ed. Messene, 1999), p. 73; Sylvène Édouard, L’empire imaginaire de Philippe II. Pouvoir des images et discours du pouvoir sous les Habsbourg d’Espagne au XVIe siècle (Paris: H. Champion, 2005), p. 354). On these questions, see Jonathan Dumont, Alain Marchandisse and Christophe Masson, ‘Les funérailles de Philippe le Beau, survivance ducale bourguignonne ou prémices royales espagnoles?’, in preparation.  34 The expression is from Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, ‘Los funerales de Carlos V en Bruselas’, p. 323.

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notable citizens of Brussels, numerous members of the States General, representatives of the institutions of Brabant — the Court of Accounts of Brabant and Luxembourg and the Council of Brabant — and then 200 poor people in mourning garb holding torches with a double escutcheon, followed by Spanish and German halberdiers of the royal guard, all placed in two lines between whom walked members of the royal household and individuals who had exercised the same functions in the Emperor’s household — members of the stable, doormen, ushers, Figure 11.4. Brussels, funeral, 29–30 December, Philip II, quartermasters, apothecaries, La magnifique et sumtueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville surgeons and doctors, masters de Bruxelles […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559) of the wardrobe and jewels, pages, gentlemen of the household and of the bouche. According to certain sources, at this point in the cortège, there were members of the Savoyard court and representatives of the orders of Saint James and of the Holy Sepulchre. Preceded by an ensemble of cymbalists and trumpeters whose instruments bore the imperial arms and three officers of arms wearing tabards with the arms of the Empire, of Hainaut and of Artois, were the ‘Mysteries’, in this case the objects of honour such as the colour standard (cornette des couleurs), the guidon (heraldic flag),35 the jousting helmet, and the shield (targe). Then appeared the heart and masterpiece of the machine of dynastic promotion and political, as well as religious, propaganda: the ‘pegma’, that is, the State’s ambulatory theatre and, very specifically, what constitutes its most perfect expression in Charles V’s funeral36: a triumphal chariot, which took the form of an allegorical ship called Victoria37 [Plate XV], cutting through the waves thanks to the energy of two equine creatures. The ship was covered in gold, bedecked with the colours of the imperial possessions, and embellished with flags adorned with the Golden Fleece, the cross of Saint Andrew, the Burgundian fire-steel (briquet), the Emperor’s  35 On the first were the House of Burgundy’s traditional emblems juxtaposed with the Habsburg colours, with the columns of Hercules and the Emperor’s motto. On the second, Saint Andrew replaced the columns.  36 Allo Manero and Esteban Lorente, ‘Les catafalques’, pp. 307–09; Allo Manero and Esteban Lorente, ‘El estudio de las exequias reales’, 80–83.  37 It is the name of the boat which completed the first circumnavigation of the globe in 1522. Allo Manero and Esteban Lorente, ‘Les catafalques’, p. 308; Lafage, Le théâtre de la mort, p. 40 note 82.

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motto Plus ultra, the Christic martyrdom, as well as an ensemble of grisailles illustrating Charles’ victories over the Turks — their standards thrown onto the ground of several islets where the imperial colours proudly floated — as well as his victories in the Indies, Italy, and the Empire. Alongside a vacant imperial throne, a worldly hetoimasia, and in front of each of its masts, hung three female figures incarnating the theological virtues of Hope, Faith, and Charity, along with two elephantine monsters attached to the crowned columns of Hercules — those of the Temple of Jerusalem, those of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius, sovereigns of the Empire that had been transmitted to Charles V, as well as the mountains lining the Straits of Gibraltar, from whence Charles had extended the Christian world and his universal sovereignty — completed the presentation of this vehicle charged with leading the victorious deceased’s spirit to Paradise. This was undoubtedly an impressive spectacle and, in all likelihood, an instrument of continuity, because an equally imposing structure, similar in certain ways — the empty throne and the motto, at the origin of Charles V’s — had already been used during the Brussels funeral of Ferdinand of Aragon on 14–15 March 1516.38 Following a palfrey and a grand colour standard (grand étendard des couleurs),39  38 Hans Cools, ‘Uitvaarten als intredes. De scenografie van de successie bij aristocratische begrafenissen in de Bourgondisch-Habsburgse landen en in de jonge Republiek’, in Mario Damen and Louis Sicking (eds), Bourgondië voorbij. De Nederlanden 1250–1650. Liber alumnorum Wim Blockmans (Hilversum: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2010), pp. 193–206 (pp. 199–200); Robert W. Scheller, ‘Jan Gossaerts Triomfwagen’, in Anne-Marie Logan (ed.), Essays in Northern European Art Presented to Egbert Haverkamp-Begemann on his Sixtieth Birthday (Doornspijk: Davaco, 1983), pp. 228–36, plates.  39 On the caparison of the palfrey as on the standard is expressed an illustrious ascendance — the badges of Burgundy and the colours of the Habsburgs —, the emperor’s personal emblems — the motto, the columns of Hercules and the imperial shield —, and the goal of Charles’ life: the fight for the Church’s defense. Brouwère, ‘La magnifique et somptueuse pompe funèbre’, 55.

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came the kings of arms Empire, Brabant and Flanders followed a bit further back by Empire, once more, Austria and Burgundy; there were no fewer than 20 horses caparisoned with the arms of the diverse lands reunited under Charles V. These arms also appeared on the banners held by noblemen. Once more, two kings of arms — whose tabards bore the Empire’s arms —, the imperial pennant and guidon as well as the great standard and banner with the imperial arms, just like the two destriers at their sides, then Charles’ paternal and maternal escutcheons, the objects de parade (notably the stamped helm, the shield with the full arms, along with the imperial crown and collar of the Golden Fleece, the sword and the coat of arms on its handle), soon trailed by two sergeants of arms, three kings of imperial arms, a new horse — this time in mourning and with a black blanket stamped with the cross of Burgundy [Plate XVI] — then the most precious insignia of the deceased and of his imperial dignity: the collar of the Golden Fleece, the sceptre, the sword of honour, the globe, and the crown. It was then that the head mourner, King Philip II (Figure 11.4), finally came dressed in a hood, a long cornette, a robe, and a long, ample mantle whose tail was carried by the most intimate of the sovereign, childhood friend Ruy Gómez de Silva, count of Mélito and first sommelier de corps. Philip II was preceded by the maîtres de l’hôtel, the Duke of Alba — the Grand Master — and the herald of arms of the Golden Fleece. The cortège ended with the party of the knights of the Golden Fleece, presided over by Duke Emmanuel-Philibert of Savoy, also dressed in great mourning.40 The knights of the Golden Fleece went two by two, with their hoods on their shoulders: Jean V of Hénin, First Count of Boussu, Lamoral, Count of Egmont, Jean of Ligne, Count of Arenberg, Jean of Lannoy, Seigneur of Molembaix, Philip III of Croÿ, Duke of Aerschot, and their homologues. They were followed by the treasurer, chancellor, and registar of the Golden Fleece and, finally, a group of representatives of the councils of Italy, of the Chamber of Castile, of the Low Countries, the viceroys and provincial secretaries of the State, and by the lieutenant of the captain of the archers of the King’s body and his men. Like every church under such circumstances but even more so in this case due to the deceased’s status, the collegiate church of Saint Gudule was hung in black, dazzling in candlelight and decorated with innumerable heraldic elements. The King, who oversaw an audience which was very strictly divided by rank, had a raised seat reserved for him which was entirely covered in black and, behind him, a ‘retraicte fermée de bois pour retirer le Roy en ung besoing’. A pyramidal chapelle ardente, like those used for Philip the Fair and Ferdinand of Aragon 50 years earlier, stood in the centre of the nave (Figure 11.5). The simulacrum of the body, which was covered with a pall of cloth-of-gold topped with a crimson velvet cross — the red cross of Burgundy — and with the imperial crown  40 He had also enacted the great mourning and, it seems, served as head mourner during the funeral of Mary Tudor at Saint Gudule of Brussels, in the absence of Philip II, which was unsurprising given that he was then the Governor-General of the Low Countries. Vandenesse, Journal des voyages de Philippe II, p. 35.

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Figure 11.5. Brussels, funeral, 29–30 December 1558, chapelle ardente, La magnifique et sum­ tueuse pompe funebre, faite en la ville de Bruxelles […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559)

accompanied by Charles’ armarium honoris (the collar of the Golden Fleece, the tunic and sword of arms, the sceptre and the orb), took place beneath a four-level structure — a baldachin and a three-level tent — hung with black serge and velvet with insignia, with cloth-of-gold decorated with red, then with white, and a cloth-of-gold. At the top of the structure hung blazons with the arms of the deceased. It was also crowned with a series of racks supporting a cloud of candles as well as four crowns representing the ensemble of Charles’ kingdoms, the kingdoms of the Lombards — the iron crown — and of the Romans, then the Empire. The group, at the head of which were found ‘les mistères servans à

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ladicte pompe comme escuz aux playnes armes, heaulmes, banières et aultres pièces’, revealed itself in a stroke which was surely impressive but devoid of the Spanish and, especially, the Italian catafalques’ iconographic apparatus. Once the bishop of Liège had celebrated the vigils, the cortège, less the clergy, the banners, and the mysteries, which remained in place, returned to the palace before once again taking the path to Saint Gudule the next morning, 30 December, for the funeral masses. The offertory was the occasion for Golden Fleece and the gentlemen present to make the offering of horses, banners, and insignia, with the obvious exception of the four quarters, the crown, sceptre, sphere, tunic, sword of honour, and the collar of the Golden Fleece, which did not leave the representation of the body. The herald of arms of the Golden Fleece put an end to the mourning; Philip II was not invested with any additional dynastic power, as Charles had stripped himself of all of his titles before his death. Such was the assessment of one of the funeral’s organizers.41 Only an English merchant, an eyewitness to the events, who took the care to explain: ‘beying in the kyrke, I dyd all that I could to have seene what was done ther, but I could not’, declared that in front of the chapelle ardente someone, who in his estimation must have been the Prince of Orange — Guillaume of Orange-Nassau, the Taciturn — touched the bier, saying ‘He is dead.’ ‘He will remain dead.’ ‘He has died but another, grander than he ever was, henceforth occupies his place,’ a variation on the formula ‘Le roi est mort, vive le roi!’ — at which point the King removed his hood, thus abandoning the period of mourning.42 Whatever he was, Philip then opened a passage between the two lines of the knights of the order and approached to offer gold and wax, as a King and as a simple mortal, for his father’s soul. The moment had come for the suffragan bishop of Arras, François Richardot, to pronounce the defunct Emperor Charles’ funeral oration,43 before the mass and the ceremonies concluded. Meanwhile,44 Charles’ body remained at Yuste, a place which, according to the codicil’s provisions, the Emperor, confronted with the dilemma of not

 41 Vandenesse, Journal des voyages de Philippe II, p. 47.  42 Letter from Richard Clough to Thomas Gresham, 2 January 1559, in Kervyn de Lettenhove (ed.), Relations politiques, vol. 1, p. 384.  43 Le sermon funèbre, fait devant le roy, par messire Francois Richardot, Evesque de Nicople, & Suffragant d’Arras: Aus Obseques et Funerailles du Tresgrand, & Tresvictorieus Empereur Charles Cinquéme. Celebrées à Bruxelles en la grande Eglise ditte Sainte Gudle […] (Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1559). See van Peteghem, ‘Une oraison funèbre’, pp. 259–87; Gustaaf Janssens, ‘El sermón fúnebre predicado por François Richardot en Bruselas ante Felipe II con la ocación de la muerte del emperador Carlos V’, in José Martínez Millán and Ignacio J. Ezquerra Revilla (eds), Carlos V y la quiebra del humanismo político en Europa (1530–1558), Congreso Internacional, Madrid, 3–6 de julio de 2000, 4 vols (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2001), vol. 1, pp. 349–62.  44 On the following, see Charles Quint, Testamento y codicilo de Yuste, pp. 35, 129, 131; Manuel Fernandez Alvarez (ed.), Corpus Documental de Carlos V, 5 vols (Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad, 1975–1981), vol. 4 (1979), pp. 67–68; Codicilo del Emperador Carlos V de gloriosa memoria, in Prudencio de Sandoval, Historia de la vida y hechos del emperador Carlos V, p. 553; Hernando del Corral, Historia breve, ed. by Gachard, Retraite et mort de Charles-Quint, vol. 2, pp. 57–65; and ed. by Sanchez Loro, La inquietud postrimera de Carlos V, pp. 144–51; Varela, La muerte del rey, pp. 20–22; Chaunu

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wishing to dominate the Kings — his parents and grandparents — but unable to avoid it, had, in the end, privileged the royal chapel of Granada, leaving it to his son to choose the location for his final repose. Aside from the Andalusian town, from 1522 on Charles had considered Bruges and, especially — except in the event that he died in Spain or en route there — Champmol, the necropolis of his ancestors the dukes of Burgundy, if this patrimonial land reintegrated into his possessions. From 1565 with the founding act for the Escorial, Philip II specified that, in ordering the construction of this monumental complex, he intended it primarily to offer a dignified sepulchre to his parents, who he said were called to be reunited in the company of his two late wives, Maria Manuela of Portugal and Isabelle of France, as well as the infants John and Ferdinand, his brothers. In January 1574, the bodies of Empress Isabelle, of Philip’s brother and sister, as well as that of Eleanor of Austria — twice widowed by the King of Portugal, Manuel I, and by King Francis I of France — were brought from Granada and Mérida, leaving Yuste for the Escorial in the company of Charles V’s corpse, which then accomplished its final voyage at the heart of a particularly luxuriant cortège. After the five funerary litters, preceded by mendicant clergymen, the monks of Yuste and Philip II’s chaplains, with the royal pennant and standard, and drawn by mules, came the representatives and the King’s mounted archers, who were surrounded by the pedestrian guard and this latter by 24 pages, also on horseback and carrying candles, all dressed in or expressing mourning. Along the route, prayers and religious celebrations of all sorts were chanted. The convoy arrived at the Escorial on 4 February. The moment had come for the corpses, received in great pomp by the Escorial’s clergy and several times inserted into richly decorated catafalques, to know grandiose funerals. Grandeur and decadence, splendour and misery: it is reported that during the Emperor’s last voyage, it rained such that the waterlogged coffins were occasionally abandoned in the razed countryside.45

and Escamilla, Charles Quint, pp. 652, 718–20; Ivan Cloulas, Philippe II (Paris: Fayard, 1992), pp. 293–94; Michel Combet, Éléonore d’Autriche, seconde épouse de François Ier (Paris: Pygmalion, 2008), pp. 255–56; Mia J. Rodríguez-Salgado, ‘Charles Quint et la dynastie’, in Hugo Soly (ed.), Charles Quint 1500–1558. L’empereur et son temps (Antwerp: Fonds Mercator, 1999), pp. 27–111 (pp. 110–11).  45 Chaunu and Escamilla, Charles Quint, p. 720.

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Abella Rubio, Juan José, ‘El túmulo de Carlos V en Valladolid’, Boletín del Seminario de Estudios de Arte y Arqueología, 44 (1978), 177–200 Allo Manero, María Adelaida, ‘Exequias del emperador Carlos V en la monarquía hispana’, in María José Redondo Cantera and Miguel Ángel Zalama (eds), Carlos V y las artes. Promoción artística y familia imperial (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y LeónUniversidad de Valladolid, 2000), pp. 261–82 Allo Manero, María Adelaida and Juan Francisco Esteban Lorente, ‘El estudio de las exequias reales de la monarquía hispana: siglos XVI, XVII y XVIII’, Artigrama, 19 (2004), 39–94 —— , ‘Les catafalques dans les funérailles royales espagnoles, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Rennes-Versailles: Presses Universitaires de Rennes-Centre de recherche du Château de Versailles, 2012–2015), vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (2013), pp. 297–325 Anderson, Jaynie, ‘“Le roi ne meurt jamais”: Charles V’s Obsequies in Italy’, in Evelio Verdera y Tuells (ed.), El Cardenal Albornoz y el Colegio de España, vol. 5, Studia Albornotiana, 36 (1979), 379–99 Aurnhammer, Achim and Friedrich Däuble, ‘Die Exequien für Kaiser Karl V. in Augsburg, Brüssel und Bologna’, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 62–63 (1980–1981), 101–57 Bakhuizen van den Brink, Reinier Cornelis, ‘La retraite de Charles-Quint. Analyse d’un manuscrit espagnol contemporain, par un religieux de l’ordre de Saint-Jérôme à Yuste’, Bulletin de la Commission royale d’histoire, Series 2, 1 (1851), 57–117 Bertomeu Masia, María José, ‘Aproximación a los textos italianos del siglo XVI entorno al funeral de Carlos V’, e-Spania [Online], , online since 1 February 2014, accessed 15 June 2020

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Bouza Brey, Fernando, ‘Las exequias del emperador Carlos I en la Catedral de Santiago’, Cuadernos de Estudios gallegos, 14 (43) (1959), 267–76 Brouwère, Jan Gustaaf de, ‘La magnifique et somptueuse Pompe funèbre de CharlesQuint — 1558’, Annuaire de la Société héraldique luxembourgeoise, 3 (1950), 47–62 Bruyère, Paul, ‘Érard de La Marck, promoteur en 1512 de la procession de la translation de saint Lambert’, Bulletin de la Société royale ‘Le Vieux-Liège’, 16 (2012), 129–76 Buiguès, Jean-Marc, La ‘monarchie catholique’ de Philippe II et les Espagnols (Paris: Ed. Messene, 1999) Cadenas y Vicent, Vicente de, Carlos de Habsburgo en Yuste (3-II-1557–21-IX-1558) (Madrid: Ediciones Hidalguía, 3rd edn, 2000) Campos y Fernández de Sevilla, Francisco-Javier, ‘Exequias en la Universidad de Alcalá por el emperador Carlos V’, in Actas del IV Encuentro de Historiadores del Valle del Henares, Alcalá de Henares, noviembre de 1994 (Alcalá de Henares: Institución de Estudios Complutenses, [1994]), pp. 103–12 —— , ‘Exequias privadas y funerales de estado por Carlos I/V: Yuste y Bruselas (1558)’, Boletín de Arte, 22 (2001), 15–43 —— , ‘Los funerales de Carlos V en Bruselas (29/30-XII-1558)’, Carlos I y su tiempo. Actas del Congreso Beresit III Toledo (Toledo: Archivo Municipal de Toledo, 2002), pp. 319–33 Canal Sánchez-Pagín, José María, ‘Fray Prudencio de Sandoval, obispo e historiador (familia y estudios)’ Príncipe de Viana, 41 (158–59) (1980), 161–90 Chaunu, Pierre and Michèle Escamilla, Charles Quint (Paris: Fayard, 2000) Checa, Fernando, ‘Un programa imperialista: el túmulo erigido en Alcalá de Henares en memoria de Carlos V’, Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos, 82 (1979), 369–79 Cloulas, Ivan, Philippe II (Paris: Fayard, 1992) Combet, Michel, Éléonore d’Autriche, seconde épouse de François Ier (Paris: Pygmalion, 2008) Cools, Hans, ‘Uitvaarten als intredes. De scenografie van de successie bij aristocratische begrafenissen in de Bourgondisch-Habsburgse landen en in de jonge Republiek’, in Mario Damen and Louis Sicking (eds), Bourgondië voorbij. De Nederlanden 1250–1650. Liber alumnorum Wim Blockmans (Hilversum: Uitgeverij Verloren, 2010), pp. 193– 206 Dumont, Jonathan, Alain Marchandisse and Christophe Masson, ‘Les funérailles de Philippe le Beau, survivance ducale bourguignonne ou prémices royales espagnoles?’ (in preparation) Édouard, Sylvène, L’empire imaginaire de Philippe II. Pouvoir des images et discours du pouvoir sous les Habsbourg d’Espagne au XVIe siècle (Paris: H. Champion, 2005) Ghermani, Naïma, Le prince et son portrait. Incarner le pouvoir dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2009) Goñi Gaztambide, José, ‘Art. Sandoval, Prudencio de’, Diccionario de Historia Eclesiástica de España, 5 vols (Madrid: Instituto Enrique Florez, 1972–1987), vol. 4 (1975), pp. 2174–79 Grandis, Sonia G., ‘Teatri di sontuosissima e orrida maestà. Trionfo della morte e trionfo del re nelle pompe funebri regali’, in Annamaria Cascetta and Roberta Carpani (eds),

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La scena della gloria. Drammaturgia e spettacolo a Milano in età spagnola (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1995), pp. 659–715 Guerrero Cabanillas, Victor, ‘Enfermedades y muerte de Carlos V’, Revista de Estudios Extremeños, 65 (3) (2009), 1163–1203 Hofmann-Randall, Christina, Das spanische Hofzeremoniell 1500–1700 (Berlin: Frank & Timme, re-ed., 2012) Jacquot, Jean, ‘Panorama des fêtes et cérémonies du règne. Évolution des thèmes et des styles’, in Jean Jacquot, Elie Konigson (eds), Les fêtes de la Renaissance, 3 vols (Paris: Centre de la recherche scientifique, 1956–1972), vol. 2, Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint. IIe Congrès de l’Association Internationale des Historiens de la Renaissance (2e section), Bruxelles, Anvers, Gand, Liège, 2–7 septembre 1957 (1960), pp. 413–91 Janssens, Gustaaf, ‘El sermón fúnebre predicado por François Richardot en Bruselas ante Felipe II con la ocación de la muerte del emperador Carlos V’, in José Martínez Millán and Ignacio J. Ezquerra Revilla (eds), Carlos V y la quiebra del humanismo político en Europa (1530–1558). Congreso Internacional, Madrid, 3–6 de julio de 2000, 4 vols (Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 2001), vol. 1, pp. 349–62 Lafage, Franck, Le théâtre de la mort. Lecture politique de l’apparat funèbre dans l’Europe du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012) Morel-Fatio, Alfred, Historiographie de Charles-Quint, part I, followed by the Mémoires de Charles-Quint. Texte portugais et traduction française (Paris: H. Champion, 1913) Popel Pozzo, Annette, ‘Un “Torrentino” ignoto per le esequie di Carlo V. La placchetta del 1559 sfuggita ai repertori’, La Biblioteca di via Senato, 4 (6) ( June 2012), 12–19 Ramírez, Hugo Hernán, ‘Las relaciones fúnebres sobre la muerte de Carlos V: aproximación a una tradición discursiva’, Calíope, 15 (1) (2009), 85–109 Rodríguez-Salgado, Mia J., ‘Charles Quint et la dynastie’, in Hugo Soly (ed.), Charles Quint 1500–1558. L’empereur et son temps (Antwerp: Fonds Mercator, 1999), pp. 27–111 Rose, Sonia V., ‘La hija pródiga del Imperio: Honras fúnebres a Carlos V en la Ciudad de Los Reyes’, in Mariel Reinoso and Lilian von der Walde (eds), Dossier Virreinatos, Revista destiempos.com, 3 (14) (March–April 2008), 129–41 Sánchez Alonso, Benito, Historia de la historiografía española, 2 vols (Madrid: Imp. J. Sánchez de Ocaña, 1941–1944) vol. 2, De Ocampo a Solís (1543–1684) Sanchez Loro, Domingo, La inquietud postrimera de Carlos V. El retiro imperial de Yuste a través de los cronistas (Cáceres: Publicaciones del Movimiento, 1958) Scheller, Robert W., ‘Jan Gossaerts Triomfwagen’, in Anne-Marie Logan (ed.), Essays in Northern European Art Presented to Egbert Haverkamp-Begemann on his Sixtieth Birthday (Doornspijk: Davaco, 1983), pp. 228–36 Schrader, Stephanie, ‘“Greater than Ever He Was”. Ritual and Power in Charles V’s 1558 Funeral Procession’, in Reindert Falkenburg, Jan de Jong, Mark Meadow, Bart Ramakers, and Herman Roodenburg (eds), Hof-, Staats- en Stadsceremonies/Court, State and City Ceremonies, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek/Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, 49 (1998), 68–93

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Schraven, Minou, ‘Contesting Supremacy. Funerals of the Spanish Monarchy in the Church of San Giacomo degli Spagnoli in Rome, 1497–1559’, in É. Bousmar, H. Cools, J. Dumont and A. Marchandisse (eds), Le corps du prince, Micrologus, 22 (2014), 367–91 —— , Festive Funerals in Early Modern Italy. The Art and Culture of Conspicuous Commemoration (Farnham and Burlington VT: Ashgate, 2014) Seipel, Wilfried (ed.), Kaiser Karl V. (1500–1558). Macht und Ohnmacht Europas. Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien 16. Juni bis 10. September 2000 (Vienna: KHM, 2000) Soly, Hugo and Johan Van de Wiele, Carolus. Charles Quint 1500–1558 (Ghent, SnoeckDucaju & Zoon, 1999) Stirling Maxwell, William, The Cloister Life of the Emperor Charles the Fifth (London: J. W. Parker and son, 3rd edn, 1853) Thomas, Bruno, ‘Die Augsburger Funeralwaffen Kaiser Karls V. Ein Beitrag zur 400. Wiederkehr des Tages seiner Totenfeier’, Waffen- und Kostümkunde. Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für historische Waffen- und Kostümkunde, Serie 3, 1 (1959), 28–45 Torre Revello, José, ‘La crónica de las exequias de Carlos V en la ciudad de los Reyes. Año 1559’, Boletín del Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, 10, 14 (51–52) (1932), 60–78 van Peteghem, Paul, ‘Une oraison funèbre pas comme les autres: celle de François Richardot pour Charles V. Les pompes funèbres de Bruxelles (29 et 30 décembre 1558)’, in Jacques Paviot, André Tourneux, Joost Vander Auwera (eds), Liber Amicorum Raphaël De Smedt, 4 vols, (Leuven: Peeters, 2011), vol. 3, Historia, éd. Jacques Paviot, pp. 259–87 Varela, Javier, La muerte del rey. El ceremonial funerario de la monarquía española (1500– 1885) (Madrid: Turner, n.d.) Voet, Léon, The Plantin Press (1555–1589). A Bibliography of the Works printed and published by Christopher Plantin in Antwerp and Leiden, 6 vols (Amsterdam: Van Hoeve, 1980–1983), vol. 3 (1980)

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Seventeenth Century Edited by

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Gérard Sabatier

Chapter 12. The Funerals of Louis XIII and Louis XIV If the funerals of Henri IV in 1610 identically reproduced those of the Valois, then those of Louis XIII in 1643 marked a profound break. Considering the destitution of his people, he declared that he did not want any of the traditional ceremonies performed for the death of kings because of the excessive expenditure that cannot be avoided. And having greater esteem for prayers than for pomp, he recommended that these should not be forgotten after his death, ordering that he shall be displayed simply and without ceremony on his deathbed, attended to during this time by members of the Church with prayers and continuous masses, and transported from Saint-Germain to Saint-Denis without any apparatus.1 The sudden death of Henri IV by assassination stunned the kingdom and explains the funeral strategy of the queen and the deceased king’s ministers. In keeping with secular ritual, it signified that Ravaillac’s blade failed to halt the resurrection of the monarchy initiated by the first Bourbon. Contrary to what happened to his father, deprived of his own death, the death throes and the funerals of Louis XIII were a personal affair and reflective of his own will. Assisted by Vincent de Paul and his Jesuit confessors, he was infused with the spirit of the Catholic Counter-Reformation and the precepts of the Council of Trent. With charity towards his people and Christian humility, he refused all post mortem honour upon his person. The king thus removed all that had become, over the course of time, paradigmatic of French royal funerals: the exposure of the corpse in majesty, ‘its royal’ treatment and its triumphal convoy through the capital. This ‘ceremonial coup d’état’2 did not, however, put an end to the monarchic funeral. The ‘inaugural death of Louis XIII’3 announced, in fact, a new development in a royal ceremony that would reach its point of perfection  1 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536. This collection (ex Harlay, Obsèques, vol. 3) contains one eighteenth-century copy of Procès verbal de tout ce qui s’est faict et passé en la cérémonie et pompe funèbre du Roy Louis XIIIe du nom dernier décédé le 14e jour de mois de May 1643, written by Sainctot, Master of Ceremonies, fol. 128.  2 Jean-Marie Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis entre Renaissance et Révolution (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2007), p. 398.  3 Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, p. 390.

Gérard Sabatier, Professor Emeritus, was formerly professor of Modern History at the University of Grenoble II. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 249–271  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120761

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with the death of Louis XIV in 1715. Far from making a clean break with the past, it preserved numerous traditional practices, and the 1643 removals were transformed and adapted to the political and cultural changes of the age of ‘absolutism’. The ‘Good Death’ In 1643 the king of France could join the European union of ‘holy kings’, which had been ruled out by the violent death of his predecessors (Henri II, Henri III and Henri IV), and his illness gave him time to manage his death throes and add a new ritual to the royal funerals: the final moments of the king’s death and exposure, ‘which henceforth constitutes the first stage of the ceremony, the agony, a sort of royal passion’.4 These methods of passing from life to death were introduced throughout Christian society in the west with two reforms, Protestant then Catholic,5 but it was in the case of princes that they took on particular importance. Accounts of a king’s death are published by the witnesses: by the servant Marie Dubois, by the Jesuit confessor P. Jacques Dinet for Louis XIII, and by the porte-arquebuse Anthoine Girard for Louis XIV;6 in the almanacs — Renaudot’s Gazette for Louis XIII and the Nouveau Mercure Galant for Louis XIV;7 and in the memoirs of chroniclers and throughout enlightenment literature. These accounts follow the same linear blueprint: the first symptoms of the end, the powerlessness of the physicians, the progression of the disease with a kindness towards the suffering, crude physical descriptions, the visits, the grief of the assistants compared to the serenity of the dying, the preoccupation in royal affairs, and above all the piety and detachment from the world, concluding with the last rites and a calm death. It would be vain to look for consistent realistic accounts from these fragments. The ‘good death’ is a literary construct with an edifying aim, where the monarch is transformed into a sacrificial prince and saint king. The origin of this approach is twofold. It is religious since the CounterReformation included the king in the choir of martyrs. It is political, aiming to conceal (even redeem?) the responsibility of the king from the misfortunes of

 4 Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, p. 393.  5 Michel Vovelle, La mort et l’Occident de 1300 à nos jours (Paris: Gallimard, 1983), pp. 315–42.  6 Marie Dubois, Mémoire fidèle des choses qui se sont passées à la mort de Louis XIII, fait par Dubois, l’un des valets de chambre de Sa Majesté, le 14 mai 1643, in Félix Danjou, Archives curieuses de l’histoire de France depuis Louis XI jusqu’à Louis XVIII, Series 2, 12 vols (Paris: Lépine, 1837–1840), vol. 5, pp. 423–47; Antoine Girard, L’idée d’une belle mort, ou d’une mort chrétienne, dans le récit de la fin heureuse de Louis XIII surnommé Le Juste, roy de France et de Navarre, tiré de quelques mémoires du feu P. Jacques Dinet son confesseur, de la compagnie de Jésus, et dédié au roy par le P. Antoine Girard de la mesme compagnie (Paris: Imprimerie Royale, Sébastien Cramoisy, 1656); La mort de Louis XIV. Journal des Anthoine (Paris: A. Quantin, 1880).  7 Théophraste Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes et nouvelles tant ordinaires que extraordinaires et autres relations des choses avenues toute l’année 1643 (Paris: 1644). Le Fevre de Fontenay, Journal historique de tout ce qui s’est passé depuis les premiers jours de la maladie de Louis XIV jusqu’au jour de son service à Saint-Denis, second part of the Nouveau Mercure Galant (October 1715).

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the age: the poverty of the people in 1643 following fiscal pressure, foreign wars and rebellions, and familial disagreement — especially the discord between the royal couple. The ‘good death’ of Louis XIV was a response to the explosion of defamatory libels in the final years of his reign. Intentionally oriented, these accounts nevertheless testify to a new ritual: the successive ‘entries’ around the dying person and the final stages of ars moriendi. A ‘good death’ requires time, so that all the steps may be observed. This was missed for the assassinated Henri IV, Marie-Thérèse, or the Grand Dauphin, who passed away in a matter of days or even hours. For Louis XIII the death lasted just over three weeks (26 days, from 19 April to 14 May) and as well as for Louis XIV (23 days, from 10 August to 1 September). If the sequences are of an identical nature, the personality of each prince, the familial and political conditions, and sensitivities, and consequently the intentions of the narrators (Father Dinet was a Jesuit, the Anthoines were Jansenists) introduced variations. Louis XIII hardly left his room at the Chateau Neuf in Saint-Germain. Louis XIV continued for some time to carry out a ‘normal’ life in Versailles in his private apartments in The Marble Court: the lever and coucher in the 1701 chamber, the council chamber, Madame de Maintenon’s apartment, working with his ministers, listening to his musicians, eating in public. More than Louis XIII, he occupied himself to the end with State affairs, his principal preoccupation: ‘I am going, but the State will forever remain’.8 The two sovereigns are concerned about their succession in a similar situation: a dauphin of five years of age, a regency, and fear of familial discord. Louis XIII receives Anne of Austria and their two sons, his brother Gaston of Orléans and his cousin the prince of Condé, Louis XIV receives the Dauphin, the Duke of Orléans and his bastards the Duke of Maine and the Count of Toulouse. The nobility and members of the Parlement gathered around their deathbed, and they registered their will and testament.9 Both confessed the vanity of this world and stoically exhibited their physical degradation: Louis XIII his skeletal thinness; Louis XIV the gangrene that consumed his left side. Echoing the VIRO IMMORTALI of his statue in the Place des Victoires, Louis XIV declared, ‘Why do you cry? Is it because you thought me immortal? For me, I have never believed [myself ] so to be’.10 Louis XIII gave proof of an ardent piety, reading the lives of the saints and passages from the Imitation of Jesus Christ, from Introduction to the Devout Life, as he contemplated from his window far-off Saint-Denis, where he would lie in rest before long. Louis XIV’s piety was more formal, listening to daily mass from his bed and ordering hundreds of masses to be said after his passing. The goodbyes finished, in an official order, the final entries were given to members of the Church, in whose arms the monarch died.

 8 16 August, Mercure galant (1715), p. 39.  9 One could consider the meeting on 20 April 1643 around Louis XIII’s deathbed, as the bed of justice, which inaugurated his reign following the death of Henri IV. Fanny Cosandey, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir (Paris: Gallimard, 2000), p. 241.  10 28 August, Mercure galant (1715), p. 53.

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The Exposure of the Corpse What follows is the treatment of the corpse and its public exposition. Three sequences were to be observed. Louis XIII had ordered that he should be displayed simply and without ceremony on his deathbed, attended during that period by members of the Church with continuous masses. His wishes were only partially met as it was necessary to find a compromise between what was owed to the man and what was owed to the king. Deceased on 14 May 1643, in the early afternoon, he was ‘dressed in a satin camisole and a white-cloth cap, his hands joined over a wooden cross’.11 This account exactly repeated the description of the body of Philip II at the Escorial in 1598. Louis XIII had wanted a death ‘in the Spanish manner’. A funerary apparatus was installed: candlesticks surrounding the bed, a credenza at its feet, chairs and benches on both sides with those reserved for the clergy on the right, and those for the officers of the king’s wardrobe and his chamber on the left. Two altars were raised, where the successive masses were conducted, while the crowd flocked to throw holy water, without regard to rank or ceremony. Louis XIV died on 1 September 1715, at eight in the morning, in Versailles in the chamber at the centre of the chateau, which he had occupied since 1701; he was displayed in the same manner, on his deathbed and in a similar disposition. The crowd, nevertheless, was strictly directed and marched without stopping in front of the balustrade throughout the entire day, until eight at night.12 This traditional sequence aimed at verifying the king’s death while it also initiated the cycle of religious services. On the following day the autopsy and embalming would take place. These operations would unfold early in the morning (from six to nine) near the chamber in which the death occurred; in 1643 in the gallery and in 1715 in the antechamber known as the ‘salon de l’Œil de Bœuf’. The witnesses and the participants were a prince and several gentlemen, officers and valets of the king’s chamber, masters of ceremonies, doctors of the court and from the faculty of Paris, and surgeons (all requested by royal letter) — about thirty persons in all. An official report was drafted each time and then published.13 The state of the corpse was thoroughly recorded and the cause of death certified. The embalming of the bodies of sovereigns is a secular tradition, necessary if one wants to preserve it for some time for the veneration and homage of his subjects.14 Louis XIII, who

 11 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 143v.  12 For Louis XIV, see Archives nationales, O1 821, fols 78–120: Pompe funèbre de Louis XIV, mort à Versailles le 1e septembre 1715, Journal of the Master of Ceremonies, Desgranges, fol. 82.  13 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 144–47v; Mercure galant (1715); Archives nationales, O1 821(Desgranges), fols 84–85; La mort de Louis XIV. Journal des Anthoine, pp. 77–78.  14 Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance [1960], (Paris: Flammarion, edn 1987); Jean Nagle, La civilisation du cœur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998); Patrice Georges, ‘Mourir, c’est pourrir un peu […] Inventions et techniques contre la corruption des cadavres à la fin du Moyen-âge’, Micrologus, 7 (1999), 359–82; Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles

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had initially refused on the grounds of modesty, refusing to be treated differently from any other Christian, yet yielded to the reasons given by his confessor, who expressed the necessity of a prolonged exposure.15 The entrails, for physiological reasons, were removed and embalmed separately and then deposited in a lead box. The same was done for the heart, but in this case because of its symbolic value, once embalmed it was, in 1643, placed ‘in a small vessel the same shape as the heart, also of lead, and gilt on the exterior’,16 with an identifying plaque.17 At the moment of being placed in the coffin, the embalmed corpse was first deposited in a sealed lead casket, which was in turn placed in a second coffin made of oak, covered with a drapery of black velvet crossed with white satin, also with an identifying plaque. The third sequence was the prolonged exposure. The embalmed corpse of Louis XIII was laid in the ‘chambre de parade’close to that in which he had died, decorated with a rich tapestry of the crown depicting the story of Coriolanus, with a ‘King’s bed in crimson velvet richly brocaded in with thick gold cord, in which he queen a few years before had given birth to the now reigning king’. It was erected on a platform, beneath a dais, behind a balustrade, surrounded by silver candelabras, and four heralds at arms standing watch at the foot. Despite the splendour of the decor, the modesty in the exposure of a monarch maintained the fiction of simplicity. The King was dressed in a satin camisole with a cap in the same, without crown, sceptre in the hand of justice nor royal mantle, given that he is only on his deathbed and not lying in state.18 It was seen in this state by an incredible multitude of people, without any one giving rank to those who one sees fit to have the same opportunity, on the grounds that the body of the king was left on display so that his subjects had the satisfaction of viewing him without any ceremony required.19 Masses with music, high masses and ordinary masses followed successively without interruption. This sequence lasted four days, from 15 May to 18 May. On the eve of his transport to Saint-Denis, the body of Louis XIII was placed in a

des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’A scq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005); Stanis Perez, La mort des rois (Grenoble: Jérôme Millon, 2006); Alexandre Bande, Le cœur du roi: les Capétiens et les sépultures multiples, XIIIe–XVe siècle (Paris: Tallandier, 2009); Gérard Sabatier, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe– XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols, vol. 1. Le grand théâtre de la mort (Paris: Centre de recherche du château de Versailles/Editions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 17–47 (pp. 18–19).  15 Girard, L’idée d’une belle mort, ou d’une mort chrétienne, p. 43.  16 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 148; Recueil des gazettes, 1643, p. 415.  17 For Louis XIV, Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 84.  18 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 148–50. Although on a ‘king’s’ bed, the appearance of Louis XIII maintained the fiction that he lay on his ‘deathbed’. Dressed like a king, with his regalia, as on the effigy, he was said to lie in state.  19 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, 1643, p. 416.

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casket and the coffin was then covered in a gold cloth depicting the crown and brought into the room until it was time to depart.20 It went differently for Louis XIV. Following the autopsy he was immediately placed in a casket. The coffin was carried ‘into the grand apartment where the king would give his grand audiences’,21 ‘to the chamber of the grand apartment that leads from the gallery to the chapel, as the most convenient for this ceremony’,22 that is to say, in the bed chamber, the Salon of Mercury, so chosen for reasons of protocol as well as for ease of circulation. That chamber was hung with the finest furnishing [ensemble of tapestries and chairs] which were at Versailles. The base of the bed was made with four or five forms [oblong crates] covered in a rich drapery of gold. The casket was then placed on top and draped with the same covers as the bed, and the heart was placed under the quilt on the same coffin [the entrails were placed at the foot of the bed, in the credenza]. In this fashion, the king was meant to be in his deathbed in which he would essentially be left uncovered, if it was possible to keep him as such, in imitation of what was done for Louis XIII. It had been agreed that there would be no great ceremony, which is only suitable when the king dies in Paris.23 The Master of Ceremonies’ (Desgranges) notes are revealing of the mode of operation in matters of ritual: reproduce that which preceded. He deplored the innovation that had the body exposed in the casket. This was because of the gangrene that made it ‘impossible to keep’. One regretted not having made ‘a grand ceremony’, that is to say, giving it the Valois treatment. The reasons put forward by Louis XIII were kept silent, as personal, and a motive of a rational nature was provided. Public opinion was not used to this novelty introduced by Louis XIII and maintained for Louis XIV. So, the truly royal funerals should be celebrated like those held up until the death of Henri IV. The engraving depicting Louis XIII lying in state was a reuse of the one produced for his father: it is the effigy one sees with only the face changed. The process was the same for depicting Louis XIV exposed: placed in an unidentifiable location that clearly has no relation to the Salon of Mercury, the remains of the king lie in state, but it is still the same effigy in royal robes, crowned, and holding the sceptre and the hand of justice.24 The exposure of the casket in the bedchamber lasted for one week, from 2 to 9 September, with the same measures as those put in place on the first day for the corpse on its deathbed, as it was always meant to be. The bed was surrounded by a dozen candelabras, with the clergy on the right, the officers of the chamber and the wardrobe on the left, and the guards of the

 20  21  22  23  24

BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 160, 160v. La mort de Louis XIV. Journal des Anthoine, p. 79. Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 86. Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 86. Presented in Vovelle, La mort et l’Occident, pp. 340–41, under the title ‘Louis XIV lying in state’ (Louis XIV sur son lit de parade) without indicating whether it was an iconographic display.

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Manche at the bottom. Outside the balustrade, two heralds at arms were seated. At the four altars, lower masses were conducted in sequence from dawn to midday, followed by requiem masses; 72 clergymen in total were mobilized, in the antechamber the king’s music performed the De profundis, Miserere, psalms, vespers of the dead, etc. while the members of the court and of the city filed past, and the ecclesiastics and diplomats came to throw holy water. Neither Anne of Austria and Louis XIV in 1643, nor Louis XV in 1715 participated in the funeral of the deceased king. Since the fifteenth century in France, the king had been absent from the funeral services of his predecessor. The reason for this is not clearly established. Giesey offers a ‘constitutional’ explanation: the effigy maintains the fiction of the living king in that he was not interred, and there cannot be two kings at once. Other conjectural motifs might be advanced, such as the untimely presence of an heir at the time of controversial or indirect inheritances in the fifteenth century. The successor did not appear in public prior to the burial of the deceased at Saint-Denis, except to make a brief appearance during the ceremony to give him holy water. This tradition was violated in 1610 when Louis XIII appeared the day after the death of Henri IV to hold a lit de justice and confer the regency on his mother, then came in full ceremonial to throw the holy water over his father. The public appearance of the new king became the rule. Immediately following Louis XIII’s death, Louis XIV was taken to the chapel in the old castle of Saint-Germain where he was recognized, honoured, and proclaimed king by the queen regent, his mother, his brother, his uncle Orléans, and the princes of the blood.25 At 11 the next morning, everyone left Saint-Germain in a grand convoy for Paris where Louis XIV was welcomed to the Louvre by the sovereign courts.26 On 1 September 1715, the Duke of Orléans, and regent, announced aloud the death of Louis XIV, then ‘went to the Dauphin who had become king. He paid him a brief compliment, bent with one knee on the ground, and kissed his hand’, followed by the princes of the blood and the bastards.27 But the proclamation took on a more public character and anticipated the ceremony of Saint-Denis in using the cries of both heralds during the burial. After the death of the king, one officer would, at that moment and having a single black feather in his cap, appear at the window, and being on the balcony, loudly proclaim: ‘the king is dead’. The same officer would then retire, and having changed the black feather for a white one, appeared a second time on the same balcony and would thrice cry, ‘Long live the King Louis XV’. After the ceremony […] the bodyguards would line up in the salons at the end of the gallery. The young king would then appear on the balcony to show

 25 Register of the parish church of Saint-Germain en Laye, cited by Christophe Levantal, Louis XIV. Chronographie d’un règne, 2 vols (Paris: INFOLIO editions, 2009), vol. 2, pp. 44, note 90.  26 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, 23 May 1643, n. 64, pp. 424–25.  27 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 79.

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himself to the people who were crowded in the courtyard, where each person had the opportunity to cry out: long live the King Louis XV. More surprising was the presence of little Louis XV in the room where his deceased grandfather lay. On the third day we chanted Requiem Mass with music in the presence of the young king and of Monsieur the Duke of Orléans, all the princes and princesses, and the lords and ladies of the court, all dressed in mourning. On the fourth day, we celebrated Mass in the same manner, in the presence of the king and the whole court. Was the prohibition of the presence of two kings violated? We must return to Desgranges: ‘the great ceremony’ had not yet been performed and Louis XIV ‘was supposed to be in his death bed’. Like Louis XIII in 1643, he lay as a man, not as a king. There was thus only one king present in the room: Louis XV. The next day, the sovereign courts and the marshals of France returned to Versailles to pay tribute to the young king who then bore the mantle of royal mourning: ‘He had on a violet habit with a plume in the same colour’. In the early afternoon of 9 September, several hours before his grandfather’s convoy would depart for Saint-Denis, the child-king was taken to Vincennes. ‘He was dressed in black, a jerkin with a black cap, all matched’.28 The royal mourning had ceased. No more than his predecessors, Louis XV participated in the funerals of the deceased king. The Funeral Convoys While the late king’s corpse, or the casket in which it was contained, was exposed, his entrails and his heart undertook some unpredictable peregrinations. The day that Louis XIII was embalmed his entrails were transported to Saint-Denis by a small crew between the evening hours of ten and midnight, and there deposited until the opening of the will and testament which happened two days later. The king’s wish to have his entrails deposited in Notre-Dame was known. A canon therefore came to collect them. They arrived on the night of 17 May and were placed at the foot of the high altar.29 This arrangement can be explained thus. By his declaration on 10 February 1638, Louis XIII had placed the monarchy and the kingdom of France under the protection of the Virgin Mary. The king had committed to building in Notre-Dame a new altar with a pieta, in front of which he would be depicted in prayer. This would not be completed in his lifetime. His entrails were, therefore, at least laid within the choir. It was Louis XIV who finally realized the altar and the pieta, with the praying figures of himself and his father on either side. His own entrails had also been taken to Saint-Denis but

 28 Buvat, Journal de la régence, 1715–1723, 2 vols (Paris: Plon, 1865), vol. 1, pp. 47, 49, 52, 53.  29 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 164–65, Michel Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de Saint-Denis en France (Paris: Fréderic Léonard, 1706), p. 469.

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Cardinal de Noailles, Archbishop of Paris, had asked for them ‘in imitation of what had been done at the death of Louis XIII’. On 4 September 1715, they were removed from Versailles and taken in a carriage by the Master of Ceremony and a chaplain, with some pages and footmen, and six Scottish guards. They were placed on a credenza in the middle of the choir at Notre-Dame,30 and then later under the pavement at the foot of the steps of the altar. It was different for the heart, an object of special veneration for centuries. Henri IV had given his to the Jesuits of La Fleche, in the Maine. There it had been conducted with pomp, and was honoured by the people. Louis XIII maintained the custom for the Jesuits, but for their Parisian church in the Marais. That monument was particularly dear to him. The first stone was laid in 1627 under the patronage of Saint Louis, his eponymous ancestor. His heart had been transferred there, like his entrails to Notre-Dame, without ceremony.31 The queen would have it placed within a large silver heart held aloft by two angels beneath the arcade to the right of the choir. On the afternoon of 6 September 1715, the heart of Louis XIV was taken to the same location in a carriage by the chaplain, Swiss guards, and bodyguards bearing torches. The convoy arrived at ten. In the church draped in black, the urn with the heart was placed on a credenza at the top of a platform underneath a canopy at the crossing of the transept.32 In 1730 it was installed in a silver reliquary similar to that of Louis XIII’s in the facing arcade. At three in the afternoon on 19 May, exactly five days after his death, Louis XIII was taken directly from Saint-Germain to Saint-Denis where he arrived at ten in the evening. Ahead travelled the king’s musketeers, the chevaux-légers of the guard, the squires of the Small Stable, the officers of the household, His Majesty’s chaplains in coaches, the valets of the chamber and the wardrobe, ‘the entire troupe of three hundred masters on horseback riding two by two in two lines’. At the centre of the convoy were six horses, caparisoned in black, pulling the chariot of arms that carried the casket covered in a black velvet pall crossed in white satin with six crests bearing the French coat of arms. It was preceded by the king of arms and six heralds, by guards of the Manche on horseback, pages bearing torches, and by footmen, followed by the captain of the bodyguards, the squires of the Small Stable, and two hundred gendarmes of the guard. Following at the rear was a large group of cavalry.33 By the time they arrived at Saint-Denis, the procession numbered approximately six hundred persons.34 On 9 September 1715 at eight in the evening the convoy of the body of Louis XIV set off from Versailles to Saint-Denis. The casket was transported in a chariot similar to that of Louis XIII, and the composition of the convoy was the same, albeit larger, with approximately 2500 people on foot, on horseback,

 30 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 89–90.  31 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 167.  32 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 91–92.  33 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 188v-90; Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, pp. 476–80.  34 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 469.

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Figure 12.1. Funeral convoy of Louis XIV to Saint-Denis, Print, 1715.

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or in coaches,35 stretching two kilometres and progressing slowly by the glow of their torches. The guards carried halberds and muskets pointed to the ground, drums were struck by a single stick and the sound of trumpets was muffled. They crossed the Seine at the Pont de Sèvres, went along the walls of Paris, and crossed the plain of France. At five the following the day, on the grand road that leads from Paris to Saint-Denis, they reached the Croix penchée that marked the limit of the abbey’s jurisdiction. The 120 monks, the clergy, and the officers of the town were waiting and joined the procession. By seven they were in the square in front of the church, after 11 hours of marching (Figure 12.1).36 Contrary to what has been written by Republican historians of the nineteenth century,37 the nocturnal transport of Louis XIV’s remains was in no way a means of removing the king’s corpse in a virtually clandestine fashion from a vindictive populace. It is correct to note that the solemnity was troubled by manifestations of a large crowd that had come to express their loathing of a reign that, for many, was achieved through oppression and misery. But the scale of the procession and the grandiloquence of the ceremony did nothing to obscure this. As for the nocturnal hours: this was not new. On 30 June 1610 the convoy of Henri IV left Notre-Dame at two in the afternoon38 to arrive at Saint-Denis at eleven at night. On 21 July 1616 the body of his first wife, Queen Marguerite, left the vigil of the Petits-Augustins and arrived at the abbey between five and six in the morning. The remains of Marie de Bourbon, first wife of Gaston d’Orléans, was taken to Saint-Denis on the night of 24 to 25 June 1627. The transport of Louis XIII on 19 May 1643 was done between three in the afternoon and ten at night. The convoy of Marie-Thérèse left Versailles on 10 August 1683 at six in the evening and would arrive at Saint-Denis the following day.39 All of these processions are similar in having been conducted during the hottest season, which explains without a doubt the reason for the late, even nocturnal, departure. The convoy of Anne of Austria in 1666 left the Louvre at eight in the evening of 28 January and arrived at the abbey by midnight.40 This practice, had it merely acquired a ritual characteristic, or was this a Spanish influence? Whichever it may be, whether utility, tradition, or another influence, the practice of the funerary convoy processing at night had become habitual. One even finds a soteriological meaning: the mortal corpse traverses through the night of its death to be reborn in the day with the arrival at Saint-Denis at the dawn of the resurrection.

 35 Buvat, Journal de la régence, p. 54.  36 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 93–98.  37 ‘One sees clearly how everything changed in France on the day when the remains of Louis XIV were transported to Saint-Denis in a mean, even indecent, device. The convoy of a monarch who carried with him an entire century of glory arrived at his final destination amongst taunts and booing’, Henri Martin, Histoire de France depuis le temps les plus reculés jusqu’en 1789, 17 vols (Paris: 1855–1860), vol. 15, p. 7.  38 Le Mercure françois, 1610, fol. 478v; Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 435.  39 Gazette de France, 1683, fol. 419.  40 Gazette de France, 1666, fol. 123.

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Saint-Denis As the necropolis of royal couples since Saint Louis, the Benedictine abbey of Saint-Denis saw its status profoundly affected by the new mode of funerals. Until recently, the church had primarily been the site of the graves and tombs, the ritual theatre where the death and rebirth of a monarchy was manifest and ‘that never dies’. But the rite was more political than religious. The Christianization of funerals as decided by Louis XIII conferred a new status. It became the supreme place for royal funerals, to the detriment of the palace, the cathedral, and the city of Paris. The body of the king remained there for as long as was necessary to make the preparations for mourning, which necessitated large-scale mobilization,41 and the ceremonial realization, the duration of which was considerably lengthened with the adoption of the Italian funerary service introduced to France during the funeral of Anne of Austria. Since the length of time for the exposure of the corpse at the palace had been reduced, so as to not exceed one week, the abbey became the principal site for this ritual, with the solemn guard, the perpetual masses, the presence of the King’s Household, the court and its delegations, all who wished to pay homage to the deceased, and the curious. Louis XIII lay there for 34 days, from 20 May to 22 June 1643; Louis XIV for 42 days, from 10 September to 21 October, 1715. Anne of Austria in 1666 and Marie-Thérèse in 1683 remained only two or three weeks, but the Duchess and Duke of Burgundy were there for nearly two months in 1712 (from 23 February to 18 April).42 The date of the wake and the burial were not determined according to the ecclesiastical precepts of 40 days after death.43 Given the variation in duration of the exposure at Saint-Denis, it cannot be a consequence of the 40-day rule, although it did occur as such in the case of Louis XIV. The day after the arrival of Louis XIII at Saint-Denis a great requiem mass took place without rank or ceremony, in the presence of 22 bishops and archbishops and numerous members of the nobility. Alms were given to the tune of 6000 livres. The casket remained in the middle of the choir, surrounded by a dozen Scottish guards, and two clerics took turns in praying throughout the day and night.44 These measures allowed for the king’s body to be rendered visible in a specific way: The casket shall be set in such a way so that the head is closest to the altar and the feet are directed toward the bottom of the choir, because kings, like sacred persons, should so be positioned.45  41 In 1643, ‘the queen ordered everything which had been done in keeping with that of Henri IV’: hundreds of garments for the King’s household and for hers, and for 500 of the poor: 14,000 yellow and 2500 white altar candles; draping to cover the entire church […], BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 197–234.  42 Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, pp. 399–400.  43 Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais, p. 250, erroneously declared ‘it is only in the middle of the XVIIth century do we find the burial and the fortieth day coinciding’.  44 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, p. 480.  45 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 137v.

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Louis XIV’s casket was first placed from 10 to 27 September in the middle of the choir, then in the chevet (apse chapels) in order to leave the choir free for making preparations.46 Here they set up an apparatus more spectacular than that at Versailles. The chevet was draped in black with the coats of arms of France and of Navarre in a frieze and a large canopy suspended from the ceiling. The casket was placed on a platform and covered with a black cloth crossed in silver, the crown, sceptre, and the hand of justice on top. Four skeletons atop pilasters held aloft a large crown (Figure 12.2). Louis XIII had curtailed nothing in the ceremony at Saint-Denis, which unfolded according to tradition. The general appearance of the church, the actors and the audience, the office and the burial ritual were not modified in principle. The organization and the celebration were entirely taken over by the department and personnel of the King’s Household, which, as a new feature, proved to be a recurring source of conflict with the abbey’s monks as well as inflating the decor and the spectacle. It is with the death of Marie-Thérèse in 1683 that French royal funerals, also extended to the queens, the children of France and (in representation) to certain foreign sovereigns, began through their theatricality and their greater emphasis on music to become funerary operas. In 1715 the entire church was hung in black and littered with shields bearing the arms of France, including the portals, the cloisters, refectories, and the rooms reserved for the reception of the notability. In the choir above the stalls 16 tribunes — 8 on either side — were erected, taking forms similar to theatre loges with their large curtains kept open by winged genies. At the summit of the arcades one could see a large cartouche containing the allegorical representation of a royal action with a legend in Latin; on the pilasters the medallions contained emblems.47 This practice had illustrious antecedents, such as in Florence for the funerals in memoriam of Philippe II in 1598, Henri IV in 1610, and Marguerite of Austria in 1612.48 During Monsieur’s funeral in 1701, the paintings depicted the battles in which he had taken part.49 Ménestrier reported that, for the funerals of Louis XIII, 38 paintings depicted the best episodes of his life with accompanying Latin inscriptions.50 This is surprising information, because neither the records of the Master of Ceremonies nor the Gazette mentioned these panegyric images. Since Ménestrier fails to indicate where the ceremony happened (without a doubt somewhere other than at Saint-Denis), perhaps it took place during the  46 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 99.  47 La mort de Louis XIV. Journal des Anthoine, pp. 116–22; Robert N. Nicolich, ‘Les décors des pompes funèbres de Louis XIVà Saint-Denis et les services à Notre-Dame et à la Sainte-Chapelle’, Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire de l’art français (1975), 171–90; Gérard Sabatier, Versailles ou la figure du roi (Paris: Albin Michel, 1999), pp. 504–05.  48 Glorias efimeras. Las exequias florentinas por Felipe II y Margarita de Austria, Exhibition cat., Valladolid 1999–2000 (Valladolid; Societad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 1999); ‘Paris vaut bien une messe!’ 1610: Hommage des Médicis à Henri IV roi de France et de Navarre, Exhibition cat., Pau-Florence 2010 (Paris: RMN, Livorno: Sillabe, 2010).  49 Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, p. 402.  50 Claude-François Ménestrier, Des décorations funèbres (Paris: R. J. B. de La Caille, 1683), pp. 258–61. List of subjects and their inscriptions.

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Figure 12.2. The body of Louis XIV in the chevet at Saint-Denis, Print, 1715.

ceremonies organized by the Jesuits in Paris or in Lyon. An apparato had to be situated in the middle of the choir to receive the casket for the ceremony. In 1643, it was a castrum doloris burning with the light of 1500 candles, with a pyramid at each of the four corners crowned with fleurs de lys, and at the centre a large dome surmounted with an imperial crown.51 This scaffold, which was still quite medieval in appearance, was to become (in the second half of the century) a mausoleum of monumental size populated by statues and shining with light, which took, in 1715, the form of an ancient temple.52 However in the interior, the device for displaying the royal casket was unchanged: the bier was covered by a black velvet pall with silver crosses, and the royal pall was ‘on a gold background and the colour of fire’. The crown, the sceptre, and the hand of justice were placed on top. At the foot, on a credenza, was the royal mantle and the necklace of the Order of the Holy Spirit.53 The composition of the audience and the nature of the participants were determined during these centuries and, from 1643 to 1715, only the names changed.54 The entries and the positions or ‘performances’ would follow each  51 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, pp. 535–36.  52 Nicolich, ‘Les décors des pompes funèbres’, p. 174.  53 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, p. 536; Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 470; Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 113.  54 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, pp. 549–60; Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 100–09.

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other. The first to arrive would be the public (they who would stay in the nave); then the people ‘of quality’ who had tickets for places in the tribunes followed; according to protocol next came the clergy, the courts and companies (the Parlement, Chambers of Accounts, Treasury, University, Chatelet, Election,55 City of Paris), the officers of the crown and the King’s Household, and the great Lords and Princes. Grouped near the catafalque were the carriers of ‘honour’: spurs, gauntlets, shield, coat of arms, helmet, pennon,56 sword, and the banner of France. The final entrants formed a solemn procession of four hundred poor people carrying torches, who stopped in the nave, followed by the heralds at arms, the princes of great mourning and, in 1715, the regent, the Duke of Orléans — all of whom would advance just to the choir. The mass finished, the casket was then incensed and removed from the mausoleum to be taken by 12 Scottish guards to the tomb. There it rested covered in the royal pall, with the four first presidents of the Parlement each taking one of the four corners.57 At Valois funerals these same four figures manned the corners of the golden fabric that covered the litter upon which the effigy rested during the crossing of Paris. A cavity to the right of the choir contained the coffins of the Bourbons aligned along the trestles, with that of the last deceased king deposited in a small hole at the foot of the stairs, his head turned towards the opening, awaiting the remains of his successor (Figure 12.3). Precisely above the entrance to the stairs, on the church paving, a depiction of an empty casket covered in cloth besides which a lamp burns, served as a reminder after 1610 of the memory of the deceased king.58 In 1643, it was moved so that they could ‘open the tomb and arrange the bodies already there in order to find a place for the most recently deceased king’.59 In 1715, on the eve of the ceremony, before Louis XIV’s casket was transferred beneath the mausoleum, ‘the body of Louis XIII [had been] moved from the niche and placed in the large space between the remains of Henri IV and Marie de’ Medici, his mother, just as he had requested in his will’.60 The body of Louis XIV took its place, where he would be succeeded by Louis XV, 60 years later. What followed was the famous jeter des batons — a ritual performed by the Masters of the House: depositing the emblems and honours, with the exception of the sword held with the point down, removal of the banner of France, the royal regalia (crown, sceptre, hand of justice) laying on the bier, the cries of ‘the king is dead […] long live the king’, followed by the raising of the emblems (the pieces of honour and the regalia were then returned to the treasure of the abbey in order to be newly utilized in the coronation of the new king). The nave then

 55 Chatelet: provost of Paris responsible for police and justice in the capital. Election: fiscal administration responsible for the collection of taxes.  56 ‘Pennon: a standard with a long tail’ (Antoine Furetière, Dictionnaire universel contenant tous les mots françois… ([n. p.: n. pub.], 1690). It displays the personal emblem of the king.  57 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 471; Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 113.  58 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 436.  59 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 164.  60 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fol. 101.

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Figure 12.3. Plan of the vault of the Bourbons’ sepulchre at Saint-Denis in 1706, in Dom Michel Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de Saint-Denys en France.

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burst with the joyous fanfare of trumpets, accordions, oboes, fifes, and drums.61 Beginning at around 11 in the morning (although the entries had commenced at dawn), the office was terminated in 1643 at around 5 in the evening.62 The day was completed with a banquet that joined all the performers, the grand bodies of authority of Paris, and the lords and the ecclesiasts with their households. In 1643 there were 15 tables and 562 covers; in 1715 16 tables and 616 covers.63 (The numbers were reduced by half for the funerals of queens, where food was only provided for the Parisian delegations: five tables and 310 covers for Anne of Austria, and eight tables with 290 covers for Marie-Thérèse.)64 At the end of the funeral banquet, the Head of the King’s Household would declare that the king is dead, that his House had been broken and he would break his staff.65 Despite the proclamation of his death and the public accession of his successor immediately following his passing, the sovereign was not really considered deceased until entombed. As demonstrated, in the period between the physical death and the ceremonial death, the practices performed while living were maintained. The captain of the bodyguards stayed nearby the entire time. In 1643 he was on the inside of the balustrade next to the embalmed corpse;66 he followed it during its removal, ‘in accordance with what he had done at all times, always guarding the body of the king as if he were still living’.67 During the procession he came immediately after the chariot carrying the corpse.68 According to the instructions given by the Master of Ceremonies, the guards, during the exposure, ‘shall do all things as if the king was still alive’.69 The ritual meal continued. At Saint-Denis in 1715, for the guards stationed near the corpse of Louis XIV in the chevet, a table was prepared in a neighbouring room. In front of it a ceremonial seat remained vacant, and when the moment to dine arrived, the herald announced, ‘the king is served’, then, ‘the king is dead’. The banquet would then commence.70 Moreover, the king still seemed to be living. In 1643 during the exposure at Saint-Germain in the chambre de parade, then during the High Mass, ‘on portoit baiser au roy le corporallier’.71 Even dead, he continued to give his orders for the night guard. Every night, the Sieur de Souvré [first gentleman of the chamber for the year] found himself in the king’s chamber, took his place in the chair to the left of the king’s bed inside the balustrade, where the chamber’s usher, when seated, announced at around 2 hours: ‘the king will say goodnight,  61 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fols 280–83. Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 113–16.  62 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, p. 470.  63 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, p. 457. Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 117–20.  64 Félibien, Histoire de l’abbaye royale, pp. 507, 519.  65 Archives nationales, O1 821 (Desgranges), fols 119–20.  66 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 150.  67 Renaudot, Recueil des gazettes, 1644, p. 475.  68 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 189v.  69 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 132.  70 On the permanence of the ritual of the meal: Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, pp. 392–93.  71 BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 149.

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those who have to take the order come to receive it’. Then the officers of the bodyguard, and others, and the companies on duty came forward, and after paying reverence to the king, entered the balustrade; and then after approaching the king, went to Monsieur de Souvré to receive the word, and they departed as they had entered, and this lasted as long as the king was seen and remained at Saint-Germain.72 Excluded from the funeral ceremony, Paris nevertheless continued to participate intensely in the final tragedy of the king. In addition to the numerous offices celebrated before and after the death, two solemn services took place following that at Saint-Denis, in form, one could say, as to catch up. That of Notre-Dame was the most sumptuous. In 1643 it took place on 27 June. The cathedral was completely draped in black and illuminated by 1200 candles. The population began to congregate at three in the morning, directed by the French and Swiss guards. Preceeded by Mazarin and accompanied by the Duke of Orléans and the Prince of Condé, Anne of Austria took her place in the choir on the platform and beneath a canopy within an oratory in the Spanish style with glass in front and on either side, in the presence of ambassadors, the sovereign courts, the body of the City and the entire court. Mass was sung with music by the church choir and the King’s chapel.73 On 7 July, the Chambre des Comptes performed their ceremony at the Sainte-Chapelle. In 1715, the service of ‘the forty days’ was celebrated at Notre-Dame on 28 November within the same interval of 37 days as that of Saint-Denis in 1643 (23 October–28 November; 22 May–27 June). According to custom, the decor in Saint-Denis was reused in Paris: the temple-mausoleum, the ‘representation’ with the grand pall and the crown (but not in the black of mourning), the crown positioned above (but not the sceptre and the hand of justice), the royal mantle covering steps of the platform. The assistants and the participants were the same (but the cortège of poor people was decreased by half ). The king’s music was on the rood screen: the performance was incensed and sprayed with holy water. The service lasted three and a half hours. The meal was served at the episcopal palace, and only to princes.74 The service at Notre-Dame was thus a reproduction of the service at Saint-Denis, but in a slightly minor key. On 17 December, the Court of Finance performed its service at the Sainte-Chapelle. For the third time, Berain installed his decor made smaller for a smaller space. The display was uncovered except for a single pall of bereavement. The crown and the royal mantle were in their place. Mass was celebrated by the ecclesiasts of Sainte-Chapelle, and Massillon, the priest of the Oratory, delivered the funeral oration.75

 72  73  74  75

BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536 (Sainctot), fol. 160. Bernard Charles, Histoire du roi Louis XIII (Paris: veuve Nicolas de Sercy, 1646). Nicolich, ‘Les décors des pompes funèbres’, 184–86. Nicolich, ‘Les décors des pompes funèbres’, 186–87.

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1643: A Ceremonial Coup d’État? Was 1643 a ceremonial coup d’état? Historians have searched for background explanations. For Giesey, the coup d’état was a product of 1610, when Louis XIII appeared in the Parlement for the lit de justice the day following the physical death of his father without waiting for the ceremonial death at his burial. Since the royal majesty was reincarnated in his son, there was no reason for him to be represented in effigy. The reasoning implies a ‘constitutional’ status for the effigy (not a substitute for the physical body but a representation of the political body, the king’s double body) that Giesey attempts to demonstrate; but this interpretation is highly contested. Le Gall notes that the effigy was the subject of criticism from the Church, in that it was seen as bearing a trace of paganism, and, furthermore, the wax busts of Henri IV shown during the tours of the spectacle’s managers devalued royal majesty.76 In fact we must put Louis XIII’s decision in context in order to understand, and follow Vovelle rather than Giesey.77 Consider the instructions given by Louis XIII and their motivation. He refused the honours for his person: the glorious exposure, the embalmment, a discriminatory custom; he refused costly measures: no triumphal procession in Paris, rather a direct transfer to the necropolis. But he subtracts nothing from the respect due to the king or, if you will, to his double body, at least the symbolic part his person. Because he is required to be before the public for a few days ‘à la Royale’, he accepts being embalmed. Nothing is modified at Saint-Denis: neither the burial ritual nor, predictably enough, the expenditure: supplies for the ritual, the dress for the participants, candles by the thousands, and the funeral meal for hundreds of people. This ‘duplication’ is badly perceived. In public, the king is one person, and his private person does not exist. One should have done ‘as for Henri IV’. People found numerous official reasons for the ceremonies: the king died not in his palace at the Louvre, but in an unofficial residence, a house in the countryside, so then a ‘small ceremony’ was performed. Although upon a ‘royal’ bed the body, or the casket, is displayed as if on his ‘deathbed’. For Louis XIII, as for Louis XIV, the engravings reuse that of the effigy of Henri IV: the king’s clothing, the crown on his head, and his hands holding the sceptre and the hand of justice. The monarch cannot be displayed as a mere mortal. Why, for Louis XIV, did they not return to the ‘real’ royal funerals, as for Henri IV? The king did not prescribe nor forbid anything for his funeral. He had, however, plenty of time to do so, [but had only] disposed of his heart in favour of the house of the Jesuits of Paris. [As the king] had expressly and voluntarily forbidden nothing, it was the rule to observe all the ceremonies used on these occasions, as it had been done for Henri IV in the last instance, and as it would have been done for Louis XIII if he had not expressly forbidden it […] The king did not leave children who were in a position to order it,  76 Le Gall, Le mythe de saint Denis, pp. 388–90.  77 Vovelle, La mort et l’Occident, p. 336, and the following pages.

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and the Duke of Orleans had never received instructions from him […]. He therefore easily believed those who suggested to him to use it in this respect for Louis XIV as it had been done for Louis XIII, not to mention that he had neither allowed nor forbidden anything, but had implied taking the last example as a guide, because nobody cared, and this abridgement of endless ceremonies would save a lot of money, time and disputes in a difficult situation. Everything was therefore carried out on the model of the funeral of Louis XIII.78 The regent’s dodging (following the example of the latest ritual, while avoiding expense and quarrels) does not explain everything. The new course of royal funerals responded to the fundamental changes of the monarchy, with court society, and the culture of the elite. With those of Louis XIII, then Louis XIV, the funeral processions marked a fundamental break in ritual and, beyond that, in the practice of the French monarchy. The novelty was the exclusive participation of the King’s (or Queen’s) House. The great bodies of the State, the civil (the poor, the University, the city of Paris) and the religious society (secular clergy of the parish, regular clergy of the Orders — the only ecclesiastics were those who were part of the King’s or Queen’s Households) were excluded. The Parisian crossing and the stop at Notre-Dame, which traditionally consisted of the most emblematic period of the French royal funeral, were abandoned. The cost-saving measures required by Louis XIII were, without a doubt, initially unintended but, in fact, were in accordance with the ideological evolution of the monarchy as it would be theorized and practised during the period of ‘absolutism’. The association of the king with the ‘nation’ had no place. The royal person had been elevated by sycophants to an exclusionary height. The abandonment of the Louvre and installation at Versailles was symptomatic. The composition of the funeral convoy and the direct trajectory signifies an exclusive refocusing on the person of the sovereign. Royal funerals — granted by Louis XIV to all the Bourbons in his direct lineage — had become, for court society, of fundamental concern. The meticulous organization of the period of mourning at Versailles visibly matched the hierarchization and stratification both within the family and the members of the court. The regulation of appearances for the duration of mourning, the placement of the exposure in the chamber, the assignment of seats, the carriages, domestic equipment, and trappings for the horses — everything was indicative of rank and served as a pretext for the disputes and permanent competition which was deeply embedded in the microcosm surrounding the source of power. And, beyond that, it was the entire corporate structure of society under the Ancien Régime that was affected: the sovereign courts, officers of any kind, the ecclesiastical nebula found during the ceremonies which served as occasions to display their collective status as well as the individuals their personal ambitions.  78 Journal de Dangeau, avec les additions du duc de saint Simon, 19 vols (Paris: F Didot, 1859), vol. 16, pp. 170–71.

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Lastly, the Christianization of funerals had produced unintended results. Moving the ceremony to the religious service had added value to the funeral apparatus in the building’s interior. The adoption of an Italianate decor initiated with the funerals of Anne of Austria in 1666 and theorized by Ménestrier in 1683 in his Décorations funèbres was translated into an aestheticization of funerals.79 The funeral ceremonies of Louis XIII were the last to use the still medieval chapelle ardente (chapel of repose) whose efficiency was in holding the mass of candles. The Jesuits and the King’s designers then competed in architectural inventions, allegories, emblems, statues, and paintings for the gigantic pièces montées that were the mausoleums erected, dismantled, and reused by the workforce that specialized in the menus plaisirs. Cathedrals and the Gothic churches were transformed into theatres, with their draperies, their canopies, and their tribunes in the form of loges. On the rood screens or the scaffolds, the King’s musicians performed requiem masses. A mixed public attended the ritual-spectacles that could last more than an entire day. The repetition within the kingdom and beyond was associated with large crowds. Royal funerals had become funeral operas: a grand social ritual.

 79 This social shift, the incarnation of the objective of Christianization that was manifest in Louis XIII, was not mentioned by Cosandey. It appeared, it is true, in the years 1670–1680.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, BnF. Ms. fr. 18 536. This collection (ex Harlay, Obsèques, vol. 3) contains one eighteenth-century copy of Procès verbal de tout ce qui s’est faict et passé en la cérémonie et pompe funèbre du Roy Louis XIIIe du nom dernier décédé le 14e jour de mois de May 1643, written by Sainctot, Master of Ceremonies Paris, Archives nationales, O1 821, fols 78–120: Pompe funèbre de Louis XIV, mort à Versailles le 1e septembre 1715, Journal of the Master of Ceremonies, Desgranges Early Printed Books

Charles, Bernard, Histoire du roi Louis XIII (Paris: veuve Nicolas de Sercy, 1646) Félibien, Michel, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de Saint-Denis en France (Paris: Fréderic Léonard, 1706) Le Fevre de Fontenay, Journal historique de tout ce qui s’est passé depuis les premiers jours de la maladie de Louis XIV jusqu’au jour de son service à Saint-Denis, in the second part of the Nouveau Mercure Galant, October 1715 Furetière, Antoine, Dictionnaire universel contenant tous les mots françois… ([n. p.: n. pub.], 1690) Girard, Antoine, L’idée d’une belle mort, ou d’une mort chrétienne, dans le récit de la fin heureuse de Louis XIII surnommé Le Juste, roy de France et de Navarre, tiré de quelques mémoires du feu P. Jacques Dinet son confesseur, de la compagnie de Jésus, et dédié au roy par le P. Antoine Girard de la mesme compagnie (Paris: Imprimerie Royale, Sébastien Cramoisy, 1656) Ménestrier, Claude-François, Des décorations funèbres (Paris: R. J. B. de La Caille, 1683) Renaudot, Théophraste, Recueil des gazettes et nouvelles tant ordinaires que extraordinaires et autres relations des choses avenues toute l’année 1643 (Paris: 1644) Printed Primary Sources

Buvat, Journal de la régence, 1715–1723, 2 vols (Paris: Plon, 1865), vol. 1 Dubois, Marie, Mémoire fidèle des choses qui se sont passées à la mort de Louis XIII, fait par Dubois, l’un des valets de chambre de Sa Majesté, le 14 mai 1643, in Félix Danjou, Archives curieuses de l’histoire de France depuis Louis XI jusqu’à Louis XVIII), Series 2, 12 vols (Paris: Lépine, 1837–1840), vol. 5, pp. 423–47 Journal de Dangeau, avec les additions du duc de saint Simon, 19 vols (Paris: F Didot, 1859) Martin, Henri, Histoire de France depuis le temps les plus reculés jusqu’en 1789, 17 vols (Paris: 1855–1860) La mort de Louis XIV. Journal des Anthoine (Paris: A. Quantin, 1880)

chapter 1 2. the f un era ls of louis  xiii a nd louis  xiv Secondary Sources

Bande, Alexandre, Le cœur du roi: les Capétiens et les sépultures multiples, XIIIe–XVe siècle (Paris: Tallandier, 2009) Canova-Green, Marie-Claude, Faire le roi. L’autre corps de Louis XIII (Paris: Fayard, 2018) Cosandey, Fanny, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir (Paris: Gallimard, 2000), pp. 240–56 Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, D’or et de cendres. La mort et les funérailles des princes dans le royaume de France au bas Moyen Âge (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2005) Georges, Patrice, ‘Mourir, c’est pourrir un peu […] Inventions et techniques contre la corruption des cadavres à la fin du Moyen-âge’, Micrologus, 7 (1999), 359–82 Giesey, Ralph E., Le roi ne meurt jamais. Les obsèques royales dans la France de la Renaissance [1960] (Paris: Flammarion, edn 1987) Glorias efimeras. Las exequias florentinas por Felipe II y Margarita de Austria, Exhibition cat., Valladolid 1999–2000 (Valladolid; Societad Estatal para la Conmemoración de los Centenarios de Felipe II y Carlos V, 1999) Lafage, Franck, Le Théâtre de la Mort. Lecture politique de l’apparat funèbre dans l’Europe du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2012) Le Gall, Jean-Marie, Le mythe de saint Denis entre Renaissance et Révolution (Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 2007) Levantal, Christophe, Louis XIV. Chronographie d’un règne, 2 vols (Paris: INFOLIO editions, 2009), vol. 2 Nagle, Jean, La civilisation du cœur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998) Nicolich, Robert N., ‘Les décors des pompes funèbres de Louis XIV à Saint-Denis et les services à Notre-Dame et à la Sainte-Chapelle’, Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire de l’art français (1975), 171–90 ‘Paris vaut bien une messe!’ 1610: Hommage des Médicis à Henri IV roi de France et de Navarre, Exhibition cat., Pau-Florence 2010 (Paris: RMN; Livorno: Sillabe, 2010) Perez, Stanis, La mort des rois (Grenoble: Jérôme Millon, 2006) Sabatier, Gérard, Versailles ou la figure du roi (Paris: Albin Michel, 1999) Sabatier, Gérard, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds) Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols, vol. 1: Le grand théâtre de la mort (Paris: Centre de recherche du château de Versailles/Editions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 17–47 Sabatier, Gérard and Béatrix Saule, (eds), Le roi est mort. Louis XIV, 1715 (Paris: Tallandier, 2015), Exhibition cat., Château de Versailles, Octobre 2015–February 2016 Vovelle, Michel, La mort et l’Occident de 1300 à nos jours (Paris: Gallimard, 1983).

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Tran sl at e d by J. R . M ul ry ne

Chapter 13. Great Funerals in a Little State Francesco I and Alfonso IV d’Este at Modena (1659 and 1663) In the seventeenth century, as members of the older feudal aristocracy of Italy, the Signori d’Este ruled the cities of Modena and Reggio directly, as dukes. Suffused with chivalric ideology, they flaunted many other titles, more high-sounding than real. In fact, in 1598 they had to abandon their traditional capital Ferrara, along with almost half their territories. The absence of a male heir of the last Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso II, had brought about the devolution of Ferrara to the Papal States, on the grounds of ancient and not entirely conclusive grounds of ownership. The cities of Modena and Reggio remained with the dukes d’Este as the result of an Imperial edict, secured by bribery, which overrode the feudal claims of Rome. After this tussle, the ambitions of the ducal family remained, but these were much greater than the material resources the dynasty was able to deploy. This was the undoing of the dukes d’Este; and this, for present purposes, is the key to understanding their politics-driven funerals at Modena, in the years which followed the loss of Ferrara. In October 1597, in Ferrara, Duke Alfonso II had not been accorded a funeral worthy of his rank. The city was besieged politically, by papal authority; moreover, in accord with Roman practice, spiritual force had been used to resolve an entirely secular dispute. Alfonso’s designated heir, Cesare d’Este, had been excommunicated as a usurper of the rights of St Peter. The formal reason lay in the fact that he belonged to a bastard line of the marquesses of Montecchio. This branch took its origin in 1527 from a son born to Duke Alfonso I and the daughter, Laura Dianti by name, of a Ferrarese commoner. In these circumstances the exequies of Alfonso II were celebrated in stealth, by night, without public display, without processions, prayers, or public encomia.1 Not until the first anniversary of his death, at the end of 1598, was a verse elegy for Alfonso issued  1 Giovanni Ricci, I giovani, i morti. Sfide al Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2007), pp. 89–137; Giovanni Ricci, ‘The Pope as a Conqueror. Rites of Possession, Episodes and Unexpected Events in 1598 Ferrara’, in Samuel Cohn Jr., Marcello Fantoni, Franco Franceschi and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (eds), Late Medieval and Early Modern Ritual. Studies in Italian Urban Culture (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 349–64.

Giovanni Ricci is a former Professor of Modern History at the University of Ferrara. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 273–286  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120762

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Figure 13.1. Francesco Fontana e Andrea Seghizzi, façade of the church of Sant’Agostino prepared for the exequies of Francesco I d’Este.

c hapter 13. great funera ls in a little state

in Modena. This is a touching document in its attempt to associate honours never previously accorded — for a duke who had lost his State — with the mourning which was celebrated across the whole Spanish empire and beyond for king Philip II.2 In January 1599, a solemn ceremony took place in the cathedral in Modena, accompanied by a brief oration.3 In this very low-key fashion the Ferrarese phase in the funeral rites of the Este drew to a close, after the two quasi-royal funerals in effigy of Duke Ercole II and of the first wife of Alfonso II himself, Lucrezia de’ Medici.4 In their new seat at Modena, the Este took up once more the use of funeral effigies within the context of memorial ceremonies arranged many months after the death of the prince. The beginning, in truth, was less than imposing, either for duke Cesare, who died in 1628, or for his successor Alfonso III, who abdicated the dukedom and died in a convent in 1644.5 The trauma occasioned by the loss of territory and the rivalry between original inhabitants of Modena and exiled in-comers from Ferrara, weighed heavily for a long time. The city of Modena, meanly set up until then, attempted to reconceive itself as a small-scale copy of the capitals of the Old Regime.6 Everything depended on the willingness of the dynasty to rouse itself promptly from the loss of Ferrara due to illegitimacy of blood. But time went on, because the first duke who sought refuge in Modena, the excommunicated Cesare d’Este, had previously married Virginia, the illegitimate daughter of Cosimo I de’ Medici. As chance would have it, both princes of the new Modenese court entirely lacked purity of blood. The symbolic moment of recovery arrived with Duke Francesco I, son of the devout Alfonso III. Struck down by malarial fever, Francesco died at Santhià in October 1658, during a military campaign in Piedmont fought on the French side.7 Poison was suspected; and hatred for him encouraged by Spain, which  2 John A. Marino, ‘Philip II’s Royal Exequies in Two Italian Cities: His Deeds and Virtues as Seen in Florence and Naples’, in Samuel Cohn Jr., et al., Late Medieval and Early Modern Ritual, pp. 21–34; Jean-Marie Le Gall, ‘Les pompes funèbres des souverains étrangers à Notre-Dame de Paris, XVIe– XVIIIe siècles’, Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, 59 (2012), 97–123 (esp. 111).  3 Caesar Pasqualini, In funere Philippi II austriaci Hispaniarum regis catholici ac Alphonsi II estensis Ferrariae ducis (Mutina: [n. pub., n. d.]); Alphonsi Saxi, Oratio in funere serenissimi Alfonsi II Ferrariae ducis (Ferrara: [n. pub.], 1599).  4 Giovanni Ricci, Il principe e la morte. Corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998), pp. 35–60; Giovanni Ricci, ‘De Ferrare à Modène. Mort et funérailles des Este, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Engerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles; Paris: Éd. de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 201–16.  5 Tiziano Ascari, ‘Cesare d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2018), vol. 24 (1980), pp. 136–41; Guido Quazza, ‘Alfonso III d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 2 (1960), pp. 341–42.  6 Massimo Bulgarelli, Claudia Conforti and Giovanna Curcio, Modena 1598. L’invenzione di una capitale (Milan: Electa, 1999); Marco Folin, Rinascimento estense. Politica, cultura, istituzioni di un antico Stato italiano (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 2001), pp. 363–91; Guido Guerzoni, Le corti estensi e la devoluzione di Ferrara del 1598 (Modena: Archivio storico, 2000); Elena Fumagalli and Gianvittorio Signorotto (eds), La corte estense nel primo Seicento (Rome: Viella, 2012).  7 Daniela Frigo, ‘Gli Stati italiani e le relazioni internazionali’, in Giuseppe Galasso and Aurelio Musi (eds), Italia 1650. Comparazioni e bilanci (Naples: CUEN, 2002), pp. 55–58.

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considered him a traitor, provided a possible motivation. His body was opened in order to make an autopsy possible, with the discovery of a kidney stone banishing the suspicions of those present — if not ours, since the stone would not exclude the possibility of poison. At that point, the corpse was embalmed and, dressed in a monk’s habit, was taken to Modena to be solemnly buried in the funeral chapel set aside by the dynasty in the church of San Vincenzo. A month had now passed since Francesco’s death. The verbal account of the autopsy tells us that the heart was stored in a lead container placed within the coffin, while the other interior organs were buried separately.8 This procedure was in line with the symbolic treatment of hearts at the time,9 but also carried biological constraints — so much so that the heart and the interior organs, the remains of evisceration resulting from autopsy, would not receive any further public ceremony. The one clear distinction granted to the heart was that it was not in the event disposed of, like the other viscera, but remained enclosed in the coffin.10  8 Luigi Amorth, Modena capitale. Storia di Modena e dei suoi duchi dal 1598 al 1860 (Modena: Aedes Mura­ toriana, 1961), p. 44; Luciano Chiappini, Gli Estensi. Mille anni di storia (Ferrara: Corbo, 2001), p. 477.  9 ‘A record of cases’ in Charles Angell Bradford, Hearth Burial (London: 1933); Jean Nagle, La civilisation du cœur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998); Andreas Bräm, ‘Von Herzen, ein Beitrag zur Systematischen Ikonographie’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 175–79; and Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, ‘Le coeur “couronné”: tombeaux et funérailles de cœur en France à la fin du Moyen Age’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 241–65; ‘A Ferrarese dossier’, in Ricci, Il principe e la morte, pp. 87–118.  10 Amorth, Modena capitale, p. 44; Luciano Chiappini, Gli Estensi, p. 477.

c hapter 13. great funera ls in a little state

Figure 13.2 a–b. Francesco Fontana e Andrea Seghizzi, the catafalque erected in the church of Sant’Agostino for the exequies of Francesco I d’Este.

The solemn funeral of Francesco I had still to come. It was celebrated in April 1659 in Modena, in the medieval church of Sant’Agostino (Figure 13.1). The outstanding artistic feature of the church interior was a 1350 fresco of the Madonna and Child by Tommaso da Modena. The duke’s corpse was obviously absent, six months after his death, and was evidently perhaps not even relevant at this stage of the observances. Thanks to the erudite and imaginative advice offered by the Jesuit Domenico Gamberti, the funeral rite would be without precedent. Gamberti took care to avoid copying a double funeral in a rigid fashion. In fact, no effigy was carried to the place of burial, no substitute for the corpse having a part to play. Instead, a portrait of the dead duke — who was already buried — remained on display for a long period in the vicinity of the catafalque, surrounded by a profusion of statues and medals bearing portraits

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of the dynasty’s forebears (Figure 13.2). Many of these portraits had already been seen in printed volumes celebrating these forebears, drawn from a cycle of genealogical frescos completed in 1577 in the castle at Ferrara as part of a scheme by Pirro Ligorio. This cycle in turn was inspired by dynastic portraits executed in 1545 by Girolamo da Carpi in the country residence of the dukes d’Este at Copparo. With its intense realism, da Carpi’s cycle was the earliest example of this genre in Italy.11 At the official exequies of Francesco I, 124 statues and medals with dynastic significance were displayed.12 As a result of this profusion, Francesco’s exequies became celebrated across Europe. They were cited in funeral treatises as exemplary models,13 and may even have influenced by their widespread dispersal the funeral pomp of the Bourbons in France,14 which would represent a rare case of the influence of the little on the great. Every character who appeared on a representation devoted to a duke d’Este was associated with a special virtue or heroic quality which made it famous; and so it spawned inscriptions, emblems, trophies and a ‘weird bazaar of a thousand other ornaments’. This ‘funerary theatre’ had its scenic designer, Gaspare Vigarani, a native of Reggio who would soon move to France to make his contribution to the sumptuous festivals of the court of Louis XIV.15 As with every spectacle worthy of the name, Francesco’s funeral was accompanied with a libretto, or better a ‘librone’ (a very large format book), which André Chastel characterized as one of the more ‘typifying’ traces of the baroque age.16 The book was entitled Idea di un prencipe et eroe christiano (‘The model of a prince and a Christian hero’).17 In his idealized role as Christian prince, Francesco had been the subject of life portraits by Diego Velasquez and

 11 David Robbins Coffin, ‘Pirro Ligorio and Decoration of the Late Sixteenth Century at Ferrara’, Art Bulletin, 37 (1955), 67–185; Barbara Marx, ‘L’ossessione della genealogia. Incontri rinascimentali fra Ferrara e il mondo germanico’, in Barbara Marx, Tina Matarrese and Paolo Trovato (eds), Corti rinascimentali a confronto. Letteratura, musica, istituzioni (Florence: F. Cesati, 2003), pp. 109–43; Edouard Pommier, ‘Théories du portrait et pratiques du portrait. L’exemple de Ferrare’, in Gianni Venturi (ed.), L’età di Alfonso Ie la pittura del Dosso (Ferrara and Modena: [n. pub], 2004), pp. 201–13.  12 Elena Corradini, Elio Garzillo and Graziella Polidori (eds), La chiesa di Sant’Agostino a Modena. Pantheon Atestinum (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana edn, 2002), pp. 53–63, 263–73.  13 Claude-François Ménestrier, Des décorations funèbres (Paris: R. J. B. de La Caille, 1684), pp. 17, 30, 33, 196–200.  14 Frédérique Leferme-Falguières, ‘Les pompes funèbres des Bourbons, 1666–1789’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki and others (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, vol. 1, pp. 49–71.  15 Claudia Conforti, ‘Fasto simbolico e orgoglio dinastico nell’architettura funeraria di Francesco d’Este (1659)’, in Walter Baricchi and Jérôme de La Gorce (eds), Gaspare & Carlo Vigarani. Dalla corte degli Este a quella di Luigi XIV. De la cour des Este à celle de Louis XIV (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana edn; Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2009), pp. 292–97.  16 André Chastel, ‘Le Baroque et la Mort’, in Enrico Castelli (ed.), Retorica e Barocco (Rome: Bocca, 1955), p. 33.  17 Domenico Gamberti, L’idea di un prencipe et eroe christiano in Francesco I d’Este […] effigiata (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659). See Giorgio Montecchi, ‘Stampatori e librai nella Modena capitale degli Estensi’, in Angelo Spaggiari and Giuseppe Trenti (eds), Lo Stato di Modena. Una capitale, una dinastia, una civiltà nella storia d’Europa, 2 vols (Rome: Ministero per i beni e la attività culturali, Direzione generale per gli archivi, 2001), vol. 2, pp. 995–1027.

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Gian Lorenzo Bernini — two genuine masterpieces now preserved in Modena.18 The neoplatonic conceit derived however from a treatise by the Spaniard Diego de Saavedra Fajardo entitled Idea de un principe politico christiano, published at Munich in 1640 and frequently re-issued in Italian from 1648.19 Saavedra’s treatise described, for the benefit of the Spanish nobility and with the assistance of ‘historical examples’, the characteristics of the perfect prince, which needed to be reformulated in line with the morality of the Tridentine Council. In the Jesuit Gamberti’s religious and chivalric view, Francesco I d’Este became the embodiment of this ideal type of prince. Francesco’s funeral ceremonies followed a codified pattern. The real presiding officiant was not a religious but Francesco’s son and heir, Alfonso IV, ‘vestito a lutto, con cappuccio a lungo strascico, che dava un’immagine di lugubre maestà’ (‘dressed in mourning, with a long trailing hood which gave him the appearance of grieving majesty’).20 Medieval garb for great grief according to the Burgundian manner here joined up with a classic display of the baroque macabre. But the impoverishment of the contents and of the high stakes reduced these rites and symbols to matters of scene dressing.21 Bernini’s initial reluctance in 1650 to honour the duke of Modena with a portrait — Bernini, who was accustomed to dealing with popes and sun kings — is thus very revealing. As in other similar cases, the hypertrophy of the ceremonial revealed his crisis.22 In fact, an object insignificant in itself, but always replete with symbolic meaning, such as the heart, even when in fact available to call on, was not regarded as essential to the purposes of the rite. Francesco I was the last of his dynasty to hold high political ambitions, fully engaged as he was with the Franco-Spanish wars, which came to an end with the peace of the Pyrenees.23 On the other hand, the choice of the church of Sant’Agostino as the site of his exequies does not seem to have  18 Irving Lavin, Bernini e l’immagine del principe cristiano ideale (Modena: Franco Cosimo Panini, 1998), pp. 13–14, 34–40; J. Jadranka Bentini (ed.), Sovrane passioni. Le raccolte d’arte della Ducale Galleria Estense (Milan: F. Motta, 1998), pp. 296–99.  19 Diego de Saavedra Fajardo, Idea de un principe político christiano (Munich: Heinrich Nikolaus, 1640; Venice: Garzoni, 1648). See Manuel Segura Ortega, La filosofía jurídica y política en las Empresas de Saavedra Fajardo (Murcia: CajaMurcia, 1984); Hans-Otto Mühleisen, Die Friedensproblematik in den Politischen Emblemen Diego de Saavedra Fajardos (Munich: E. Vögel, 1982), pp. 356–78; Roberto Farneti, ‘Emblematica e politica. L’idea di Diego Saavedra Fajardo’, Il pensiero politico, 28 (1994), 356–78.  20 Domenico Gamberti, Corona funerale dedicata alla gloriosa ed immortale memoria del […] prencipe Francesco I d’Este (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659), pp. 4–6, 39; see also Francesco Berni, Le virtù piangenti al sepolcro […] del signor duca Francesco primo d’Este (Ferrara: A. and G. B. Maresti, 1661).  21 The technical aspects are discussed in Geneviève Barboni-Yans, ‘La morte bussa i tre colpi. Apparato funebre concepito da Gaspare Vigarani per i funerali del duca Francesco I d’Este’, in Musica, teatro, nazione dall’Emilia all’Europa nel Settecento: Dodicesimo incontro con la musica italiana e polacca (Modena: Aedes muratoriana, 1981), pp. 47–58.  22 Maria Antonietta Visceglia, ‘Riti, simboli, cerimonie tra Rinascimento e Barocco. Note per una riflessione storiografica comparativa’, in Giuseppe Galasso and Aurelio Musi (eds), Italia 1650. Comparazioni e bilanci (Naples: CUEN, 2002), pp. 165–202.  23 Marina Romanello, ‘Francesco I d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 49 (1997), pp. 731–37; Angelantonio Spagnoletti, Le dinastie italiane della prima età moderna (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2003), pp. 346–48.

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Figure 13.3. The inside of the Church of Sant’ Agostino in Modena.

been a matter of chance. Located on the Via Emilia, near Modena’s west gate, the church ideally related the capital with the state’s second city, Reggio. The irrecoverable city of Ferrara in favour of an imagined new future within Europe. The exequies for the son and successor of Francesco I, the young Alfonso IV, which took place in June 1663, were no less pretentious.24 Meanwhile, however, something surprising occurred. The church walls at Sant’Agostino had fallen into a state of disrepair, blackened as they were by smoke from the innumerable wax candles used for the exequies of Francesco I. In accordance with the wishes of the widowed duchess, Laura Martinozzi, making use of a legacy from her powerful uncle, the cardinal Mazzarino, Sant’Agostino was made over into a site fit for succeeding ducal funerals (Figure 13.3). At once, a swarm of artists and workmen came together to form the so-called Pantheon Atestinum or Pantheon of the Este, characteristic of a time when the concept of a monumental Pantheon was undergoing continuous development.25 The rectangular space dating back to the fourteenth century, not divided by chapels and proportioned like a festive hall, was lined with a covering of wood and stucco. In a strange paradox, the ephemeral apparatus of the funeral was transformed into a splendid permanent stage set  24 Guido Quazza, ‘Alfonso IV d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 2 (1960), pp. 342–43.  25 Matthew Craske and Richard Wrigley (eds), Pantheons: Transformation of a Monumental Idea (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).

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(as in Palladio’s Teatro Olympico at Vicenza).26 In contrast, the tombs’ location (the church of San Vincenzo) would receive only minor repairs, as though forgotten. This complete separation between the place of the ephemeral and the place of the permanent, with the symbolic subordination of the second to the first, represents a telling matter. In accordance with the wishes of the duchess, the Jesuit Gamberti celebrated Estense heraldry by covering the church with portraits which illustrated the sacred qualities of the dynasty. It’s not necessary here to discuss the soundness of the Este’s connections with ‘le maggiori corti sante d’Europa e d’Asia’ (‘the chief holy courts of Europe and Asia’) which this genealogical speculation devised.27 Two more important matters require attention. The first is the proposition implicit in the decor, namely that nobility rather more than poverty, can be a natural path towards holiness; and here the anti-Machiavellism of the Jesuits, in exalting the religious disposition of the prince, led to the overturning of an evangelical precept. The second matter is the predominance in the Este genealogy of female figures sharing ‘the odour of Figure 13.4. Giovanni Lazzoni, the beatified Beatrice I d’Este, sanctity’ by comparison with the male: Modena, Chiesa di Sant’ Agostino. twelve statues as opposed to three, not to mention paintings (Figure 13.4). We do not wish to introduce arbitrary gender perspectives, nevertheless in this permanent iconography here we see something further of the exaltation of a temporary female regency such as that of the duchess Laura. It is scarcely necessary to add that the chosen saintly figures, female and male, were all of great antiquity, and for that reason did not need Tridentine validation. In this way, without risking ecclesiastical condemnation, the dynastic sanctity typical of the Middle Ages could be made to flourish once again.  26 Corradini et al., La chiesa di Sant’Agostino a Modena, pp. 10–19, 65–77, 251.  27 Domenico Gamberti, Aquila grande e piena di varie piume. Opera istorica e genealogica, ovvero dovitia e varietà di attegnenze che la serenissima Casa d’Este congiungono alle maggiori corti sante d’Europa e d’Asia (n.d.), Archivio di Stato di Modena, Archivio Segreto Estense, Casa e Stato, cass. 61, fasc. 23.

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Figure 13.5. Allegory of the complaints of the arts, in Marco Boschini, Funeral fato de la pittura venetiana per il passazo de la terena a la celeste vita del serenissimo de Modena Alfonso Quarto (Venice: Francesco Valvasense, 1663).

Grand architecture, sumptuous decoration, suffocating emblematic schemes, pompous speeches, 28 musical oratorios, chivalric hyperbole — this was the dominant atmosphere during the funeral of Alfonso IV. Even ‘Venetian painting’, as characterized in the words of its historian, Marco Boschini, sought to associate itself with universal weeping (Figure 13.5).29 Everything took place for the benefit of a public of on-looking subjects rather more than for a flock of the faithful. But something had changed in a profound way. In the midst of such a bombastic setting, the effigy on the catafalque, no longer representative of the dead person, lost the unquiet density of significances with which it had been endued during the funerals of the Renaissance. Political theology had abandoned the Este state, ceding its place to choreography. Choreography can also be very meaningful. But at Modena it had to present itself in a vacuous manner because of financial restrictions, so that it did not maintain its advance after the funerals of 1659 and 1663. Despite the existence of the Pantheon Atestinum, subsequent princely exequies proceeded at a less ambitious

 28 Domenico Gamberti, Oratione funerale nelle solenni esequie di Alfonso IV (Modena: A. Cassiani, 1663).  29 Marco Boschini, Funeral fato de la pitura venetiana per il passazo de la terena a la celeste vita del serenissimo de Modena Alfonso Quarto (Venice: Franco Valvasense, 1663).

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level. First of all came the instance of the duchess Laura Martinozzi, the patron of the Pantheon. On her death in 1687, she was honoured without the hagiographic madness of father Domenico Gamberti; responsibility for delivering the funeral oration was even withdrawn from the Jesuit.30 The same relative sobriety characterized the funerals of the dukes Francesco II (1694) and Rinaldo I (1737), as well as Rinaldo’s wife Charlotte Felicity of Brunswick-Lüneburg (1711). To tell the truth, the obsessive interest in genealogy which permeated the Este was among the last to be cured, in spite of the rejection of the excesses of Gamberti. On the other hand, the shameful wound inflicted by the loss of Ferrara prevented a more placatory memory cult. On the occasion of the marriage of Rinaldo I with Carla Felicita in 1695, the two scholars appointed as genealogists were figures of the greatest eminence, Lodovico Antonio Muratori and Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz.31 Their task was to celebrate the Italian and German lineages united by that event, by demonstrating the existence of ancient (and rather unlikely) ties between them. But the blood of the ambitious d’Este princes no longer knew how to take on real political charisma.

 30 Dario Sangiovanni, Orazione funerale […] nelle solenni esequie della serenissima Laura d’Este (Modena: [n. pub.], 1688).  31 André Robinet, G. W. Leibniz Iter Italicum (Mars 1689–Mars 1690). La dynamique de la République des Lettres (Florence: Olschki, 1988), pp. 334–45.

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Modena, Archivio di Stato di Modena, Archivio Segreto Estense, Casa e Stato, box. 61, fol. 23, Domenico Gamberti, Aquila grande e piena di varie piume. Opera istorica e genealogica, ovvero dovitia e varietà di attegnenze che la serenissima Casa d’Este congiungono alle maggiori corti sante d’Europa e d’Asia (n.d.) Early Printed Books

Berni, Francesco, Le virtù piangenti al sepolcro […] del signor duca Francesco primo d’Este (Ferrara: A. and G. B. Maresti, 1661) Boschini, Marco, Funeral fato de la pitura venetiana per il passazo de la terena a la celeste vita del serenissimo de Modena Alfonso Quarto (Venice: Francesco Valvasense, 1663) Gamberti, Domenico, Corona funerale dedicata alla gloriosa ed immortale memoria del […] prencipe Francesco I d’Este (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659) —— , L’idea di un prencipe et eroe christiano in Francesco I d’Este […] effigiata (Modena: B. Soliani, 1659) —— , Oratione funerale nelle solenni esequie di Alfonso IV (Modena: A. Cassiani, 1663) Ménestrier, Claude-François, Des décorations funèbres (Paris: R. J. B. de La Caille, 1684) Pasqualini, Caesar, In funere Philippi II austriaci Hispaniarum regis catholici ac Alphonsi II estensis Ferrariae ducis (Mutina: [n. pub., n. d.]) Saavedra Fajardo, Diego de, Idea de un príncipe político christiano (Munich: Heinrich Nikolaus, 1640; Venice: Garzoni, 1648) Sangiovanni, Dario, Orazione funerale […] nelle solenni esequie della serenissima Laura d’Este (Modena: [n. pub.], 1688) Saxi, Alphonsi, Oratio in funere serenissimi Alfonsi II Ferrariae ducis (Ferrara: [n. pub.], 1599) Secondary Sources

Amorth, Luigi, Modena capitale. Storia di Modena e dei suoi duchi dal 1598 al 1860 (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1961) Ascari, Tiziano, ‘Cesare d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 92 vols (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2018), vol. 24 (1980), pp. 136–41 Barboni-Yans, Geneviève, ‘La morte bussa i tre colpi. Apparato funebre concepito da Gaspare Vigarani per i funerali del duca Francesco I d’Este’, in Musica, teatro, nazione dall’Emilia all’Europa nel Settecento: Dodicesimo incontro con la musica italiana e polacca (Modena: Aedes muratoriana, 1982), pp. 47–58 Bentini, J. Jadranka (ed.), Sovrane passioni. Le raccolte d’arte della Ducale Galleria Estense (Milan: F. Motta, 1998) Bradford, Charles Angell, Hearth Burial (London, 1933) Bräm, Andreas, ‘Von Herzen, ein Beitrag zur Systematischen Ikonographie’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 159–92

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Bulgarelli, Massimo, Claudia Conforti and Giovanna Curcio, Modena 1598. L’invenzione di una capitale (Milan: Electa, 1999) Chastel, André, ‘Le Baroque et la Mort’, in Enrico Castelli (ed.), Retorica e Barocco (Rome: Bocca, 1955) Chiappini, Luciano, Gli Estensi. Mille anni di storia (Ferrara: Corbo, 2001) Coffin, David Robbins, ‘Pirro Ligorio and Decoration of the Late Sixteenth Century at Ferrara’, Art Bulletin, 37 (1955), 167–85 Conforti, Claudia, ‘Fasto simbolico e orgoglio dinastico nell’architettura funeraria di Francesco d’Este (1659)’, in Walter Baricchi and Jérôme de La Gorce (eds), Gaspare & Carlo Vigarani. Dalla corte degli Este a quella di Luigi XIV. De la cour des Este à celle de Louis XIV (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana edn; Versailles: Centre de recherche du Château de Versailles, 2009), pp. 292–97 Corradini, Elena, Elio Garzillo and Graziella Polidori (eds), La chiesa di Sant’Agostino a Modena. Pantheon Atestinum (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana edn, 2002) Craske, Matthew and Richard Wrigley (eds), Pantheons: Transformation of a Monumental Idea (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004) Farneti, Roberto, ‘Emblematica e politica. L’idea di Diego Saavedra Fajardo’, Il pensiero politico, 28 (1994), 356–78 Folin, Marco, Rinascimento estense. Politica, cultura, istituzioni di un antico Stato italiano (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 2001) Frigo, Daniela, ‘Gli Stati italiani e le relazioni internazionali’, in Giuseppe Galasso and Aure­ lio Musi (eds), Italia 1650. Comparazioni e bilanci (Naples: CUEN, 2002), pp. 37–69 Fumagalli, Elena and Gianvittorio Signorotto (eds), La corte estense nel primo Seicento (Rome: Viella, 2012) Gaude-Ferragu, Murielle, ‘Le coeur “couronné”: tombeaux et funérailles de coeur en France à la fin du Moyen Age’, Micrologus, 11 (2003), 241–65 Guerzoni, Guido, Le corti estensi e la devoluzione di Ferrara del 1598 (Modena: Archivio storico, 2000) Lavin, Irving, Bernini e l’immagine del principe cristiano ideale (Modena: Franco Cosimo Panini, 1998) Leferme-Falguières, Frédérique, ‘Les pompes funébres des Bourbons, 1666–1789’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Engerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherche du château de Versailles; Paris: Éd. de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 49–71 Le Gall, Jean-Marie, ‘Les pompes funèbres des souverains étrangers à Notre-Dame de Paris, XVIe–XVIIIe siècles’, Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, 59 (2012), 97–123 Marino, John A., ‘Philip II’s Royal Exequies in Two Italian Cities: His Deeds and Virtues as Seen in Florence and Naples’, in Samuel Cohn Jr., Marcello Fantoni, Franco Franceschi and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (eds), Late Medieval and Early Modern Ritual. Studies in Italian Urban Culture (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 211–34 Marx, Barbara, ‘L’ossessione della genealogia. Incontri rinascimentali fra Ferrara e il mondo germanico’, in Barbara Marx, Tina Matarrese and Paolo Trovato (eds), Corti rinascimentali a confronto. Letteratura, musica, istituzioni (Florence: F. Cesati, 2003), pp. 109–43

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Montecchi, Giorgio, ‘Stampatori e librai nella Modena capitale degli Estensi’, in Angelo Spaggiari and Giuseppe Trenti (eds), Lo Stato di Modena. Una capitale, una dinastia, una civiltà nella storia d’Europa, 2 vols (Rome: Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Direzione generale per gli archivi, 2001), vol. 2, pp. 995–1027 Mühleisen, Hans-Otto, Die Friedensproblematik in den Politischen Emblemen Diego de Saavedra Fajardos (Munich: E. Vögel, 1982) Nagle, Jean, La civilisation du cœur. Histoire du sentiment politique en France du XIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Fayard, 1998) Pommier, Edouard, ‘Théories du portrait et pratiques du portrait. L’exemple de Ferrare’, in Gianni Venturi (ed.), L’età di Alfonso Ie la pittura del Dosso (Ferrara and Modena [n. pub.], 2004), pp. 201–13 Quazza, Guido, ‘Alfonso III d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2018), vol. 2 (1960), pp. 341–42 —— , ‘Alfonso IV d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2018), vol. 2 (1960), pp. 342–43 Ricci, Giovanni, Il principe e la morte. Corpo, cuore, effigie nel Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998) —— , I giovani, i morti. Sfide al Rinascimento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2007) —— , ‘De Ferrare à Modène. Mort et funérailles des Este, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Engerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, 3 vols (Versailles: Centre de recherche du château de Versailles; Paris: Éd. de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), vol. 1, pp. 201–16 —— , ‘The Pope as a Conqueror. Rites of Possession, Episodes and Unexpected Events in 1598 Ferrara’, in Samuel Cohn Jr., Marcello Fantoni, Franco Franceschi and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (eds), Late Medieval and Early Modern Ritual. Studies in Italian Urban Culture (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), pp. 349–64 Robinet, André, G. W. Leibniz, Iter Italicum (Mars 1689–Mars 1690). La dynamique de la République des Lettres (Florence: Olschki, 1988) Romanello, Marina, ‘Francesco I d’Este’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 92 vols (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1960–2018), vol. 49 (1997), pp. 731–37 Segura Ortega, Manuel, La filosofía jurídica y política en las Empresas de Saavedra Fajardo (Murcia: CajaMurcia, 1984) Spagnoletti, Angelantonio, Le dinastie italiane della prima età moderna (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2003) Visceglia, Maria Antonietta, ‘Riti, simboli, cerimonie tra Rinascimento e Barocco. Note per una riflessione storiografica comparativa’, in Giuseppe Galasso and Aurelio Musi (eds), Italia 1650. Comparazioni e bilanci (Naples: CUEN, 2002), pp. 165–202.

Maria Adelaida Allo Manero Tran sl at e d by Je an A nd r e ws

Chapter 14. Philip IV of Spain Projecting Royal Majesty through Funeral Ceremonial Studies of the funeral ceremonies of the House of Austria have identified the importance of the changes and innovations introduced by Philip IV in the long process of evolution and codification of these ceremonies.1 The construction and completion of the Royal Pantheon (1654) and, of course, the composition of a palace Etiquette (1647–1651), including two chapters laying down rules for funeral ceremonies for and the burial of royal personages, have been noted as his most important contributions. The Royal Pantheon apart, the other changes did not take effect from a particular date, rather they were introduced gradually, in response to experience accumulated over the course of the various royal funerals during his reign. The most important, however, were implemented in 1665, on the occasion of the death of their instigator, Philip IV himself. A detailed analysis of all these alterations and innovations will allow us to understand the profound change brought about by the king on the projection of royal majesty through funeral ceremonial: spectacular and extravagant, public and deliberate propaganda, but indubitably framed by Catholicism. The King’s Agony and Death From the beginning of 1665, when he was 60 years old, the king displayed severe symptoms of kidney disease. This illness had first shown itself some years previously, but this time it was aggravated. His urine turned red and he was passing stones of various sizes. In September, he was in Madrid, in the summer wing of the Alcazar Palace. His symptoms became noticeably worse from 11 September onwards. After three days of high fever and continuous evacuations

 1 See in particular Christina Horman, Das spanische Hofzeremoniell von 1500–1700 (Frankfurt am Main and New York: P. Lang, 1985), and J. Varela, La muerte del rey. El ceremonial funerario de la Monarquía Española (1500–1885) (Madrid: Turner, 1990). Maria Adelaida Allo Manero is Professor of Librarianship and Documentation at the University of Saragossa. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 287–305  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120763

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of blood which his doctors could not control, the king was aware how seriously ill he was and knew he was facing his death. With a lucidity which he retained to the end, he prepared himself for a good death.2 The detailed account of the last week of the king’s life demonstrates that, according to custom, the matters to be dealt with were related to the validation of his will;3 the farewells of his entourage, family, servants, and ministers; and the preparation of his soul. These last matters took up the final three days of his life. He was pronounced dead at 4.15 am on 17 September. At all times, he was attended by gentlemen of his chamber, his confessor, and the chaplain royal. Other officers of the palace, ministers, and religious attended as required. The conduct of events throughout these last three days shows two things: the first, that Philip IV had an exemplary death, conforming in all its basic aspects to the norms set out in the manuals on the Art of a Good Death, the application of which served to guarantee the salvation of one’s eternal soul.4 Thus, the king’s confession was heard by the Dominican Fray Juan Martínez, his personal confessor; he took Communion twice, once solemnly from the chaplain royal and chief almoner, the Patriarch of the Indies, and once from a duty royal chaplain; he received extreme unction from the Patriarch, assisted by several chaplains; he accepted the laying on of relics and healing saints initiated by his grandfather and continued by his father, though he exercised a higher degree of selectivity; he received absolution from the papal nuncio and finally, after his first convulsion, the Patriarch concluded the liturgical cycle with the commendation of the king’s soul to God. The second conclusion to be arrived at from this narration has to do with the image projected of the king before death, that is to say, with the specific account given of these events. Its emphasis on specific acts and its religious tone results in the production of an image of a king operating as the master of ceremonies at his own death, by means of orders and dispositions denoting at every stage an exaggerated religious zeal, while at the same time undergoing his death agony. Thus, for example, his refusal to say goodbye to his wife, Queen Mariana of Austria, was interpreted as an ‘indication of his concentration on his final religious duties, since he did not wish that human affection should rob him of the time remaining to him to die as he should’.5 Equally notable was his eagerness to receive the holy sacraments, without waiting for his doctors or confessor to suggest it, as was the custom. And above all, the orders issued to indicate how

 2 P. Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV (Madrid: Francisco Nieto, 1666), fols 6r-17v., gives a detailed account of the illness and death of Philip IV.  3 Testamento de Felipe IV. Written in 1658, it required the signatures of the witnesses and the king’s signature. As he was not strong enough to sign, the Count of Castrillo, president of the Royal Council, signed on his behalf.  4 F. Martínez Gil, Muerte y sociedad en la España de los Austrias (Cuenca: Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, 2000), pp. 360–92.  5 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fol. 13v.

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the sacraments should be administered to him:6 the public processing of the Sacrament: that is, solemnly, beneath a pallium and with an appropriate retinue, even going as far as to stipulate the route to be taken through the palace. As for extreme unction, he wished to see how his back was anointed with the sacred oil and he asked, though it was unnecessary, to have the process repeated on his chest. Finally, the king wished to end his life in imitation of his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and therefore, a few hours before he died, he asked for two holy images to be brought to him, a statue of the Virgin and a crucifix. This last always travelled with him and, according to the account, he died kissing it, just as his forefathers and his deceased son, Prince Baltasar Carlos, had done. In his will, he left the crucifix to Charles II, so that he could continue the devout tradition. The Preparation of the Body At 4.15 am on 17 September the inhabitants of the palace knew immediately that the king had died. This was because the Royal Guard, following the Etiquette, moved from the king’s chamber to the apartments of the now widowed queen, Mariana of Austria, at the same time as the bells of all the churches in Madrid began to sound the death knell. Throughout the two-and-a-half days that the king’s corpse remained in the Alcazar Palace, there was a multitude of tasks to be carried out. Certainly, the most immediate was that of preparing the body, following the king’s own instructions, but it was also necessary to arrange the venue in which the religious ceremonies would take place and begin preparations for the removal and burial at the Escorial. And there is not the slightest doubt that the decisions taken about the conduct of this important phase of the ceremonies constituted an enormous change compared to what happened in previous reigns. Some of these elements had immediate precedents in royal interments which had taken place during the king’s own reign, others were completely innovative, but all of them can be justified by the concept of triumphal, majestic grandeur which Philip wished to impose on the funeral ceremonies as a whole. With regard to the treatment of the corpse, it is known that up to this point the kings and queens of Spain had refused to have their bodies embalmed.7 Indeed some queens, such as Margarita of Austria (1611) and Isabel de Bourbon herself (1644), went even further, insisting in their final moments that their bodies should not be ‘touched’ nor even seen by anybody, with the logical exception of their first lady of the bedchamber and their closest ladies-in-waiting. With regard to how the bodies were shrouded, Philip II (1598), taking the Emperor Charles V (1558) as his model, decreed that he should be dressed in a white shift, wrapped in a sheet of the same colour, that a wooden cross should be placed around his neck on a ‘simple piece of string’ and two scourges placed in his hands. Philip III (1621)  6 Varela, La muerte del rey, p. 74.  7 Varela, La muerte del rey, p. 77, pp. 81–82.

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Figure 14.1. The vigil over the body of Philip IV in his study, Anonymous. Paris, La Roches, 1665.

chose a simple Franciscan habit, as did Margarita of Austria (1611) and Isabel de Bourbon (1644). This opposition to embalming meant that a double coffin had to be used: the first, of lead, in which the corpse would be laid, and the second of wood, richly lined, adorned and provided with an elaborate lock, in which the lead coffin would be placed.8 However, the body of Prince Baltasar Carlos (1646) was embalmed, owing to the circumstances of his death and on the king’s express wish, and his organs interred in a holy place.9 This new practice was continued and amplified for Philip IV, because as well as embalming his body and burying his organs at the Convent of San Gil, he was dressed in a suit, cloak, hat, and sword. According to Rodríguez de Monforte’s account, we know that after the king’s death the Duke of San Lúcar and Medina de las Torres, his first gentleman of the bedchamber (sumiller de corps) ordered everyone out of the bedroom and,  8 On the use of the lead casket: according to the official accounts of royal exequies, these are not mentioned after 1646, a date which coincides with the first use of embalming.  9 Above and beyond the practical reasons (the prince died on 9 October 1646, his body was displayed until the night of 16 October and he was buried at the Escorial on 27 October), it is very likely that this embalming was justified on the crucial grounds of finding out what caused the sudden death of the prince, about which all kinds of rumours were circulating. See F. Alonso de la Higuera, ‘El ceremonial de la muerte en la Monarquía Hispánica. El príncipe Don Baltasar Carlos de Austria (1629–1646)’, in Eliseo Serrano (ed.), De la tierra al cielo. Líneas recientes de investigación en Historia Moderna (Saragossa: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2013), p. 591, note 36.

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helped by various gentlemen of the bedchamber, moved the body to the next room, the king’s study, so that the surgeons and barbers could carry out the task of embalming. When they finished, the Marquis of Aytona, the gentleman of the bedchamber who happened to be on duty that day, dressed the king’s body in ‘a pearl-coloured camelhair suit, embroidered in silver with silver knotting, a cloak, a sword and a hat of white beaver, and the chain of the Golden Fleece’. Then he was placed on a richly dressed bed, flanked by six large candlesticks with candles, all installed in the same room, where he remained in the presence of gentlemen of his bedchamber and discalced Franciscans from San Gil (Figure 14.1).10 At around 9 that morning, a group consisting of the President of the Royal Council, the first gentleman of the bedchamber, the king’s steward (mayordomo mayor) and the king’s private secretary visited the queen to ask permission to open the king’s will. His widow granted it, at the same time nominating two commissioners to organize the funeral rites at the palace and the subsequent removal of the body to the Escorial. Immediately, in a room next to the study, the king’s final dispositions were read, before his entire household and the principal ministers of his government. Amongst the various clauses (26 folios) relating to politics and economics, there were also some dealing with his funeral. He stipulated, for example, that he should be interred in a particular place in the Escorial Pantheon; that 100,000 masses should be said for the repose of his soul and that the clergy and religious of Madrid, furthermore, should celebrate as many masses as possible during the three days after his death.11 And in order to fulfil this final clause it was necessary to get the Great Salon of the palace ready. The King’s Remains on Display at the Palace It is clear that Philip IV, nicknamed the Planet King, wanted to invest the funeral ceremonies for the Spanish royal family with grandeur and majesty. The deceased king, without distancing himself from his Catholic faith, was not — did not wish to be, could not and should not be — just another corpse. His was still the king’s body in death and for that reason should appear surrounded by power and wealth. In addition, the more subjects, nobles, and civic dignitaries that viewed it, the more the powerful and brilliant projection of the kingdom would be promulgated. In a radical change, this was nothing like the tradition followed  10 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 25v–29r. This anonymous French engraving may be a copy, made initially in 1618, to represent the chapel of repose (capilla ardiente) constructed in the Royal Palace in Brussels for the Prince of Orange, and re-engraved and printed afterwards in 1665 in Paris by La Roches. It has also been suggested as a model for the Sebastián Muñoz painting, The Chapel of Repose of Marie Louise of Orleans. See A. Martínez Ripoll, ‘Retórica del poder, persua­ sión de la pintura’, in Benito Navarrete Prieto, Teresa Zapata Fernández de la Hoz and Antonio Martínez Ripoll (eds), Fuentes y modelos de la pintura barroca madrileña (Madrid: Arco/Libros, 2008), pp. 205–43 (pp. 230–32).  11 Testamento de Felipe IV, fols 6–84. Varela, La muerte del rey, p. 85 and Martínez Gil, Muerte y sociedad, pp. 609–15, deal with the importance of these masses as means of intercession as well as the inflation of their monetary value after Philip IV’s will was made public.

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by Philip II’s court or even that of Philip III, when the religious ceremonies held before the removal in the presence of the remains did not take longer than a day and took place in small spaces, before a select group of courtiers and religious — and with the coffin closed. The casket of Isabel de Valois (1568), who died at the Alcazar Palace, remained for 24 hours in the palace chapel, placed on a graduated platform the erection of which was supervised by the chief almoner and chaplain royal. The casket of Philip II, who died at the Escorial (1598), was taken in solemn procession from his room to the church sacristy and remained there overnight, having been placed on a graduated platform covered in a richly embroidered black brocade. The casket of Margarita de Austria (1611), but not her body, was also displayed for a day in a room in the Escorial palace. These arrangements took into account the presence of members of the court who had been in attendance on the king and queen and these were accommodated on benches and in places of prominence. However, early in Philip IV’s reign, the deaths of his father (1621) and of his first wife (1644), both at the Alcazar Palace, provided the king with an opportunity to try out the magnificence of the Great Salon of the palace, the Gilded Room, as an ideal setting in which to display the caskets in public with all the grandeur he desired. Only ten hours after the king’s death, the Gilded Room was already transformed, though retaining its rich tapestries and much valued portraits in oil.12 As on the two previous occasions, a graduated platform arrayed in mourning and flanked by large candlesticks had been erected at the head of the room, with — and this was one of the innovations — a raked dais, angled at about 30º (in the form of a cradle) on top to hold the royal casket, allowing the king’s body and his face to be viewed in the open coffin from a judicious distance. The decoration of the catafalque was completed by the silver bed, a rich baldaquin made of four columns on pedestals, all in silver, with a vermillion canopy and brocade borders which invested the body with an almost sacred grandeur. This bed had already made its appearance in 1644 for the display of Isabel de Bourbon’s casket, and went on to become an indispensable item of furniture for the display of royal bodies,13 as its employment in 1689 demonstrates [Plate XVII]. The layout of the Gilded Room was finished with a main altar behind the casket and others distributed along the side walls, in order to make a distinction between sung and spoken masses, according to whether they were said by the Chapel Royal and royal convents or by the religious orders of Madrid. Rows of benches had also been set out along the side walls, some reserved for religious and the rest for distinguished personages belonging to the royal household and the Court.  12 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 29v-35r, describes in detail the arrangement of the Salon and the ceremonies held there.  13 Andrés de Uztarroz, in the account of the royal exequies for Prince Baltasar Carlos, regrets not having been able to use it in the archbishop’s palace in Saragossa because there was not sufficient time to transport it from Madrid. See J. F. Andrés de Uztarroz, Obelisco histórico i onorario que la Imperial Ciudad de Zaragoza erigió a la inmortal memoria del Serenísimo Señor Don Baltasar Carlos de Austria, Príncipe de España (Saragossa: Hospital R. G. de Nuestra Señora de Gracia, 1646), pp. 132–33.

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There were even barriers to protect the continuous stream of visitors and to facilitate their passage. These components, which are laid out precisely in the rules of the Etiquette,14 were put in place in record time, thanks to the work of the royal household (La Furriera) and the Royal Tapestries department (La Tapicería), under the vigilant supervision of the Marquis of Montealegre, named steward (mayordomo) in charge of the king’s burial by the widowed queen.15 When all this rich preparation was finished, the first lord of the bedchamber, who was watching over the king’s body with other gentlemen of his bedchamber, was informed. The remains were placed in a wooden casket, richly adorned, and taken, through the Cierzo Gallery, to the anteroom before the Grand Salon, where the ceremony of the handing over of the body was held.16 This is a formal act of protocol denoting the passage of the corpse from the Royal Chamber to the royal household. By means of this, after the identification of the body, the first lord of the bedchamber would give the keys of the casket to the steward in charge of the funeral, with a Secretary of State witnessing the act. Then the casket was taken into the Grand Salon where the steward performed another ceremony handing the body over to the vigil guard (guardia de custodia), drawn from the ranks of the Monteros de Espinosa.17 They were already positioned on either side of the casket, forming an escort. Unlike other instances, the casket was not covered by a brocade cloth nor was the traditional cushion with the royal symbols of office placed on top of it. This was because the coffin would be open to display the king’s body. The crown and the sceptre, on this occasion, were held by two Monteros, one on either side of the casket. The religious ceremonies in the presence of the remains lasted two days, 18 and 19 September. From 5 am on 18 September and according to a preordained schedule, all the religious orders of Madrid began to file in to say the usual masses and prayers for the dead on the side altars, while the main altar was used for the sung masses celebrated by the Chapel Royal and the Royal Convents of the Incarnation and the Discalced Carmelites. The king’s corpse could be viewed by all those taking part in the ceremonies, grandees and nobility, ministers, members of the royal households, the Chapel Royal, convents and religious orders, but also by all those attached to the court. It was not the first time that the body of a royal personage had been displayed in public. This innovation had taken place, with the approval of Philip IV who had been present in Zaragoza in 1646, following the death of his son, Prince Baltasar  14 Etiquetas de la Casa de Austria, ed. by A. Rodríguez Villa (Madrid: Estab. y Tip. de Jaime Ratés, 1913), pp. 217–18.  15 The palace overseer of works, Jerónimo de Ornedal, was placed in charge of preparing the platform in the Salon, the king’s tomb, and the hurdles for transporting it while the keeper of tapestries, Felipe de Torres, took charge of providing cloth and carpet for it. Archivo General de Simancas, Tribunal Mayor de Cuentas, leg. 201, fol. 1, ‘Obra en el salón de palacio’.  16 Varela seems to suggest that this was performed after the body had been displayed, p. 84.  17 On the Castilian origin of this guard corps and their presence at royal funerals since the beginning of the sixteenth century, see Varela, La muerte del rey, p. 84, note 37.

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Carlos. For this reason, it is not surprising that the king should decide to follow the same procedure for himself, so that all could see him, as the account states, ‘with the same decorum and respect as when he was alive’.18 The desire to see the king’s body caused great crowds to gather without interruption over the two days the public display lasted. Some exceptional visitors, such as the ambassador of the Holy Roman Emperor to Madrid, the Count of Pötting, and Lady Fanshawe, describe the general arrangement of the Salon, the platform and the bed on which the casket was placed and in particular the royal corpse, with the latter remarking that his hair was combed, his beard well-trimmed, and his face and hands made-up19 [Plate XVIII]. She coincides, in general terms, with Rodríguez de Monforte on the description of his suit, even if, unlike the chaplain, she says it was a reddish beige and adds that he wore a golilla (stiff neck collar) and valona (flat collar sitting on the shoulders), white stockings and shoes on his feet. The display of the body lasted until 7 pm on 19 September, at which point the steward removed the chain of the Golden Fleece from the king’s neck, locked the casket, and began the removal. The Removal of the Remains The Etiquette established precise norms for this stage in the proceedings, one organizational and two relating to protocol. The first indicated that the new monarch would be designated to appoint the time and day for the removal; the second and third specify who should carry the casket from the Gilded Salon to the palace entrance, who should place it in the carriage and, above all, it provides very precise instructions as to the composition and order of the cortège which should accompany the casket to the Escorial.20 There is no doubt that when these norms were written down experience accumulated over the successive removals of Philip III (1621), Isabel de Bourbon (1644) and even that of Baltasar Carlos from Zaragoza (1646) was very much taken into account21 and that, as with many other aspects of the funeral ceremonies,  18 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fol. 27r.  19 Memoirs of Lady [Ann] Fanshawe, 1665 (London: [S. and R. Bentley], 1829), p. 177; Diario del conde de Pötting, embajador del Sacro Imperio en Madrid (1664–1674), ed. by M. Nieto Nuño, 2 vols (Madrid: Escuela Diplomática, Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores, 1990), vol. 1, p. 137. This death portrait of Philip IV is currently kept at the Royal Academy of History (Madrid). Even though it is anonymous it has been linked to the painter and engraver, Pedro de Villafranca. See H. González Zymla, Catálogo de pinturas de la Real Academia de la Historia (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2003), no. 110. The painting was commissioned in 1666 by the Venerable Third Order of the Franciscans, the secular order of which Philip IV was patron. See D. Delgado Pavón, La Venerable Orden Tercera de San Francisco en el Madrid del siglo XVII (Sociedad confesional, caridad y beneficencia). Doctoral thesis. (Departamento de Historia II. Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, 2007), p. 195, note 602.  20 Etiquetas, pp. 218–19.  21 Varela, La muerte del rey, p. 91, suggests the influence of the removals of royal remains organized by Philip II in 1573–1574 in relation to the make-up of the cortèges. In any case, in 1646 Philip IV decreed that the 1644 structure should be taken as a model, as in 1644 that of 1580 was used.

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Philip IV deliberately sought to achieve an impactful, grandiose, and triumphalist projection of royal majesty. In the three cases mentioned, it was Philip IV himself who nominated the deceased royal personage’s steward, along with a cleric of rank, as commissioners for the funerals, in charge of organizing the removal and the corresponding cortège, which normally varied from two to three hundred members.22 Following the tradition of previous reigns, as in the case of Prince Baltasar Carlos, the funeral cortège left at nightfall from outside its starting point. The cortège was organized hierarchically, with representatives of the mendicant orders, the Chapel Royal, the Royal Household, the Bedchamber and Horse (caballeriza) of the deceased; then court magistrates (alguaciles) and judges (alcaldes), as well as a significant detachment of the Royal Guard, all duly dressed in mourning and carrying lit candles. Its imposing composition was viewed by a crowd overwhelmed by the impressive spectacle. The removal of Philip IV was organized more or less in keeping with the Etiquette he himself had laid down. After the casket was locked in the Grand Salon, it was moved by the grandees, stewards, and gentlemen of his bedchamber to the Emperor’s Garden, where it was loaded onto a waiting funeral carriage equipped with four lanterns and pulled by mules duly arrayed in mourning. The casket was secured with white silken ropes and a rich cloth of yellow brocade was draped over it. The cortège was formed of more than 250 people, all dressed in mourning and on horseback, of whom at least 100 were soldiers of the Spanish Guard, formed in a half-moon to escort the cortège. The funeral carriage, at the rear of the cortège, was flanked by 12 pages carrying lit candles and as many more Monteros de Espinosa. The two commissioners nominated by the queen, the steward and the patriarch, rode behind it (Figure 14.2). At 9 pm, the cortège moved off from the palace, and leaving Madrid by the Segovia Bridge, it passed through Arabaca, Las Rozas, and La Torre. Stops were made at the corresponding parish churches, as the clergy wished to offer prayers for the repose of the king’s soul. For this reason, the cortège did not arrive at the Escorial until 7.30 am on Sunday 20 September.23 The Burial at the Escorial The Etiquette lays down three consecutive acts for the ceremonies conducted at the Escorial: the reception of the funeral cortège by the religious community, the entry of the casket to the church for the celebration of the funeral rites and finally the moving of the body down to the crypt to be handed over to the Prior. As with the previous stages, the Etiquette is very clear as to matters

See M. A. Allo Manero, Exequias de la Casa de Austria en España, Italia e Hispanoamérica (Saragossa: Universidad de Zaragoza, 1992), p. 515 and p. 461 respectively.  22 There were 600 members in Baltasar Carlos’s funeral cortège, see Allo Manero, Exequias, p. 515.  23 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 35v-41r.

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Figure 14.2. ‘Plan for the Royal funeral’, Etiquetas de la Casa de Austria: disposición de entierros de Señores Reyes (1647–1651).

of protocol, outlining the various responsibilities of the principal actors at each point.24 Many of the proceedings considered in the elaboration of these three acts originate in the protocol designed in 1573–1574 for the reception and handing over of the first royal bodies removed from various parts of the peninsula to the Escorial, in which Philip II played a major part. From then on, some of the venues underwent change25 — the entrance, the provisional chapel was replaced by the  24 Etiquetas, pp. 220–21.  25 De la Cuadra Blanco traces the evolution of Philip II’s original project up to its definitive transformation at the hands of Philip IV.

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Figure 14.3. Pedro de Villafranca, allegorical plate, Fr. Francisco de los Santos, Descripcíon breve del Monasterio de S. Lorenzo el Real del Escorial.

permanent structure, the various funeral crypts — but the ceremonies in use, from arrival to burial, remained unaltered in their most fundamental aspects. Real change, of course, came with the completion of the Royal Pantheon. Work on this, initiated by Philip III in 1617, was completed under Philip IV in 1654. It provided, by means of the symbolic significance of its structure, its iconography, and the richness of the materials used in its construction, the most obvious and fitting demonstration of the concept of majesty with which the king wished to invest the funeral ceremonies of the Spanish monarchy (Figure 14.3). For its inauguration, on 17 March 1654, the directives sent by the King to the prior were scrupulously adhered to. These related to the selection of royal bodies to be placed in the Pantheon receptacles. Furthermore, a new procedure was established for the handing over of royal caskets to the religious community.

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This naturally altered the traditional ceremony and had a great deal to do with the entry into use of the pudridero (decaying chambers).26 Up to 1654 all the ceremonies for the final handing over of royal caskets to the monastery community had taken place in the crypt sacristy where, after the identification of the corpse, the steward handed the keys of the casket to the prior. The Monteros de Espinosa would then lay it in its final resting place. However, the construction of the decaying chambers, created so that the smell of decomposition would not make the use of the Pantheon uncomfortable for religious purposes, resulted in Philip IV’s decreeing that this ceremony would end with the formal legal recording of the act of handing over the body. It would be the friars of the monastery who, after the ceremonies, would take the coffin to the decaying chamber, and would later on transfer the royal bones to the appropriate receptacle in the Pantheon. With these precedents in mind, when the funeral cortège of Philip IV arrived at the main entrance on the west side of the monastery, the prior came out to receive it with the three religious orders, some 170 people, all carrying small candles. The casket was placed on a table richly dressed in a black brocade, and the steward gave the queen’s letter with the order to receive and inter the king’s remains to the prior. Then, in accordance with the Etiquette guidelines, the casket, accompanied by the cortège, was brought into the church and placed on a platform constructed in the crossing, beneath the dome, surrounded by candlesticks and guarded by the Monteros de Espina. The funeral service was begun in front of a large congregation, of about two thousand people. The religious orders from the cortège and the monks of the monastery celebrated masses on the side altars of the church and the prior officiated at a sung mass, which ended with a solemn prayers for the absolution and repose of the king’s soul. Then the casket was taken to the Pantheon and placed on a table. The identification and handing over of the corpse was performed and noted formally by a Secretary of State. The Monteros swore an oath that they identified the body as that of Philip IV and, after closing the casket, the steward handed the keys to the prior so that it could be interred. The ceremonies at the Escorial had finished after five long hours of prescribed ritual protocol.27 The Raising of the Standard After the king’s burial, but always before the funeral ceremonies in his honour, the raising of the standard took place, a ceremony which was repeated without change since 1366 when it was raised for Henry (II) of Castile (Trastámara). This was later continued by the House of Habsburg. The ceremony proclaimed  26 Letter of Philip I, dated Madrid, 12 March 1654, transcribed in Rodríguez de Monforte and produced by the prior during the ceremonies because the Monteros were attempting to carry out their traditional duty of placing the casket in its final resting place. See Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 46v-48v.  27 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 41r-50r.

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what everyone already knew, that from the very instant of one king’s death, another took office. In this way, any sense of a power vacuum was dispelled and dynastic continuity underlined. Along with funeral ceremonies to honour the dead monarch, all those cities with representation at court had to perform this ritual, incorporating it into their different ceremonies. In Madrid, the organization of these ceremonies was undertaken by the city council (Ayuntamiento) and basically took the form of raising the standard or pennant of the new king on a rostrum built for the occasion in tandem with the proclamation of a pre-established form of acclamation. The ceremony was undertaken by a municipal procession accompanied by four heralds and mace bearers. It was repeated, in order, in four locations: the Plaza Mayor, the square of the Royal Convent of Discalced Carmelites, the square in front of the Alcazar Palace, and the Plazuela de la Villa. The raising of the standard and public acclamation of Charles II took place in Madrid on 8 October. The procession contained drums, trumpets and oboes (chirimías), with these musicians preceding the magistrates, mayors (regidores) and notaries public (escribanos). Finally, beside four heralds and mace bearers, came the chief magistrate (corregidor) and the deceased king’s first gentleman of the bedchamber, who took the place of the chief ensign (alférez mayor), as the latter was ill. When they arrived at the various rostra, the senior herald asked three times for the crowd to be silent, and the first gentleman of the bedchamber raised and waved the standard, shouting three times ‘Castile for our lord and king Charles II’. The new king, who was barely four years old, was seen that day on the main balcony of the palace, seated on a chair and accompanied by the queen’s chief steward, his nursemaid and the prior of the Convent of St Francis. When the ceremony was over, the standard was placed beneath a canopy on a balcony of the council building (Ayuntamiento) where it would remain for nine days, under armed guard at night.28 Funeral Ceremonies in Honour of the King The palace Etiquette dealt with the organization of funeral honours for royal personages, this being an obligation imposed not only on the new monarch but also on all the kingdoms making up the monarchy.29 Because the seat of the court was in Madrid, Philip II himself chose the church of the Royal Convent of St Dominic for the funeral honours for his son prince Carlos (1568), the Royal Convent of the Discalced Carmelites for his third wife, Elizabeth de Valois (1568), and finally, the church of the Royal Convent

 28 ‘Acclamación al señor Rey Carlos 2e por la villa de Madrid’. MS transcribed in I. Ruiz Rodríguez, Don Juan José de Austria en la monarquía hispánica: entre la política, el poder y la intriga (Madrid: Ed. Dykinson S. L., 2008), pp. 255–56.  29 Allo Manero, Exequias, pp. 29–42, examines the legal framework for the ceremonies: rules, geographic location, type of function.

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Figure 14.4. Pedro de Villa­ franca, ‘Plan for the disposition of guests’, Rodríguez de Mon­ forte, Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV.

of St Jerome for those for his fourth wife, Anne of Austria (1580). This church subsequently became the site for all future funeral honours. Funeral honours for Philip II (1598), Philip III (1621), Isabel de Bourbon (1644) and Baltasar Carlos (1646) were held there. These took place generally at least one month after the royal death and lasted two days. As well as the new monarch, grandees, ambassadors, members of the nine councils of state, prelates, chaplains and preachers from the Chapel Royal, and the stewards of the royal household attended. On the first day, vespers, matins and lauds were celebrated; on the second, three solemn sung masses; and, at the end of the third mass, the funeral oration was given. The various parts of this summarized the significance of the ceremony: the invitation, the lament, the exaltation of the virtues of the deceased, the prayer for a happy death and

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for eternal salvation. These exercises in funeral rhetoric, though undertaken within a clear religious framework, contained a strong component of political propaganda. The church of St Jerome always had brightly lit and spectacular funeral decorations. From 1575 the Royal Superintendent of Works of the Alcazar Palace took charge of these, working with his senior colleagues to meet all the artistic challenges posed in the construction of the funeral monument. This ceremony, as such, had remained unchanged since the reign of Philip II. All the details regarding its organization and the evolution of the various elements: the major actors, the presence, retinue, and role of the new monarch; the dressing of the church in mourning; the careful deployment of heraldry, in accordance with the royal personage; the religious furnishings required for the ceremonies, etc., could be found laid down in the Etiquette produced by Philip IV (1647–1651).30 The funeral honours for Philip IV followed closely the norms of the Etiquette, with the exception of the traditional location of the ceremonies. The reason for this was none other than the queen’s fear that the fragile health of Charles II, still a child, would be affected by the journey to St Jerome. Therefore, after consulting the Royal Council, she chose the nearby Royal Convent of the Incarnation, which could be directly accessed from the Alcazar Palace by means of a passage. The Marques de Velada and the Count of Peñaranda were the council representatives to speak to the queen on this occasion. With regard to the presence of the new monarch, they advised the queen that ‘it would be sufficient for him to be there for a short while, allowing himself to be seen without having to wait as long as the ceremony lasted’. As it would therefore be necessary to reduce the number of guests, they found a solution by ‘placing the benches one behind another, setting out those for the ambassadors, grandees and councils as is customary, but only three or four counsellors should accompany each president’.31 The account of the funeral exequies confirms that, in the end, the church was large enough to accommodate all the participants, following the usual protocol. This can be seen in the engraving which shows a painstaking organigram of the layout and assignment of benches (Figure 14.4). The design and construction of the funeral monument was given on the queen’s orders to the Royal Superintendent of Works, the Marquis of Malpica, while the late king’s steward, the Count of Puebla, oversaw, for his part, everything to do with materials provided by the royal tapestry, candle, and jewellery departments. As these were the honours for a king, the design for the funeral monument had to include the royal arms with imperial crown and the Golden Fleece. These coats of arms were placed on each side of the first tier, at the centre of the cornice. There was a simulacrum of the coffin, raised up and identified by the symbols of royal power, the crown and sceptre, and covered in the black brocade cloth brought from the Escorial. And finally, on the drapery hung along the nave, there  30 Etiquetas, pp. 223–26.  31 Decreto de Mariana de Austria para que se hagan las exequias de Felipe IV en la Encarnación. Notes of the Council of State, A. H. N., Sección Estado, leg. 2759.

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Figure 14.5. Pedro de Villafranca, Frontispiece, Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV.

were cards painted with the coats of arms of all the kingdoms of the monarchy, crowned and arranged in order of antiquity.32 The ceremonies took place on 30 and 31 October. Men of the Spanish and German Guard were on duty at the church door. The guests went in and took their seats and, promptly, following the protocol, the late king’s steward drew back the curtain in front of the platform where Charles II was seated. Once all the candles on the funeral monument were lit and the four heralds positioned at each side of the coffin with the mace bearers one at each corner, as the Etiquette required, the religious ceremonies began. On the first day, the ceremony took  32 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fol. 50v. and following, describes the decoration of the church in detail.

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place between 3.30 pm and 6.00 pm, with Cardinal Jerónimo Colonna officiating. On the second, from 8.00 am, the first two masses were said and the third began at 10.15 am, with the king and the counsellors present. The Royal Preacher, Fray Miguel de Cárdenas delivered the funeral sermon, glossing the virtues of the deceased king and guaranteeing his eternal salvation as well as that of his entire monarchy thanks to his successor.33 The ceremony ended at 2.30 in the afternoon with the absolution said over the coffin and the usual prayers for the repose of the soul of the dead. The illustrated book detailing the death, burial and funeral honours of Philip IV commissioned from the honorary chaplain of the Chapel Royal, Pedro Rodríguez de Monforte, transcended its function as a document of exceptional artistic value,34 becoming, perhaps without meaning to, the first detailed account of a complete set of royal funeral ceremonies, destined to be in force throughout the succeeding century (see Figure 14.5).

 33 Rodríguez de Monforte, Descripción de las honras, fols 92r-110v, includes the funeral sermon.  34 S. Orso, Art and Death at the Spanish Habsburg Court. The Royal Exequies for Philip IV (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1989), pp. 59–81, provides a detailed analysis of the decoration of the church for the ceremonies.

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Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Spain, Madrid, National Historical Archive, Decreto de Mariana de Austria para que se hagan las exequias de Felipe IV en la Encarnación. Notes of the Council of State, Sección Estado, leg. 2759. Spain, Simancas, Archivo General, Tribunal Mayor de Cuentas, leg. 201, fol. 1, ‘Obra en el salón de palacio’. Early Printed Books

Andrés de Uztarroz, J. F., Obelisco histórico i onorario que la Imperial Ciudad de Zaragoza erigió a la inmortal memoria del Serenísimo Señor Don Baltasar Carlos de Austria, Príncipe de España (Saragossa: Hospital R. G. de Nuestra Señora de Gracia, 1646) Rodríguez de Monforte, P., Descripción de las honras que se hicieron a la Católica Majestad de Felipe IV, Rey de las Españas y del Nuevo Mundo, en el Real Convento de la Encarnación (Madrid: Francisco Nieto, 1666) Vera Tassis y Villarroel, J., Noticias historiales de la enfermedad, muerte y entierro de nuestra Católica Reyna Dª Maria Luisa de Orleáns (Madrid: Francisco Sanz, 1690) Primary Sources

Diario del conde de Pötting, embajador del Sacro Imperio en Madrid (1664–1674), ed. by M. Nieto Nuño, 2 vols (Madrid: Escuela Diplomática, Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores, 1990), vol. 1 Etiquetas de la Casa de Austria, ed. by A. Rodríguez Villa (Madrid: Estab. y Tip. de Jaime Ratés, 1913) Memoirs of Lady [Ann] Fanshawe, wife of the Right Hon. Sir Richard Fanshawe, Bart. Ambas­sador from Charles the Second to the Court of Madrid in 1665. Written by Herself. To which are added, extracts for the correspondence of Sir Richard Fanshawe (London: [S. and R. Bentley], 1829) Testamento de Felipe IV, facsimile, ed. by A. Domínguez Ortiz (Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1982) Secondary Sources

Allo Manero, M. A., Exequias de la Casa de Austria en España, Italia e Hispanoamérica (Saragossa: Universidad de Zaragoza, 1992) Alonso de la Higuera, F., ‘El ceremonial de la muerte en la Monarquía Hispánica. El príncipe Don Baltasar Carlos de Austria (1629–1646)’, in Eliseo Serrano (ed.), De la tierra al cielo. Líneas recientes de investigación en Historia Moderna (Saragossa: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2013), pp. 585–99 Cuadra Blanco, Juan Rafael de la, ‘La idea original de los enterramientos reales en El Escorial’, Academia, Boletín de la Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, 85 (1997), 375–413

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Delgado Pavón, D., La Venerable Orden Tercera de San Francisco en el Madrid del siglo XVII (Sociedad confesional, caridad y beneficencia), Doctoral thesis (Departamento de Historia II. Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, 2007) Gonzalez Zymla, H., Catálogo de pinturas de la Real Academia de la Historia (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2003) Horman, Christina, Das spanische Hofzeremoniell von 1500–1700 (Frankfurt am Main and New York: P. Lang, 1985) Martínez Gil, F., Muerte y sociedad en la España de los Austrias (Cuenca: Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, 2000) Martínez Ripoll, A., ‘Retórica del poder, persuasión de la pintura’, in Benito Navarrete Prieto, Teresa Zapata Fernández de la Hoz and Antonio Martínez Ripoll (eds), Fuentes y modelos de la pintura barroca madrileña (Madrid: Arco/Libros, 2008), pp. 205–43 Orso, S., Art and Death at the Spanish Habsburg Court. The Royal Exequies for Philip IV (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1989) Ruiz Rodríguez, I., Don Juan José de Austria en la monarquía hispánica: entre la política, el poder y la intriga (Madrid: ed. Dykinson S. L., 2008) Varela, J., La muerte del rey. El ceremonial funerario de la Monarquía Española (1500–1885) (Madrid: Turner, 1990)

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Chapter 15. The Funeral of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel (1632) Dynastic or Denominational Theatre? Eminent scholar prince and protector of letters, the arts and, most of all, the sciences, Maurice, called The Learned (1572–1632), is also distinguished after death for his imposing funeral. Yet Maurice died several years after abdicating for the benefit of his son, isolated in his chateau in Eschwege on 15 March 1632, far from his successor, towards whom he remained cold, and far from his subjects, who had rebuked him for his quick and radical conversion to the Calvinist Reform.1 Nevertheless, Maurice’s death had an immediate and significant impact. Known throughout Europe and surrounded by an important network of scholars, particularly English, Maurice enjoyed indisputable prestige.2 History notes Maurice’s funeral primarily for having been the subject of a publication that exceeded all the editorial standards of the ‘funerary book’ (Funeralienbuch) as it had developed since the late sixteenth century in Germany.3 The Monumentum sepulcrale was published between 1635 and 1638.4 This grandiose  1 Gerhard Menk, ‘Die “Zweite Reformation” in Hessen-Kassel. Landgraf Moritz und die Einführung der Verbesserungspunkte’, in Heinz Schilling (ed.), Die reformierte Konfessionalisierung in Deutschland. Das Problem der ‘Zweiten Reformation’ (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus G. Mohn, 1986), pp. 154–83, and Gerhard Menk, ‘Die Konfessionspolitik des Landgrafen Moritz’, in Gerhard Menk (ed.), Landgraf Moritz der Gelehrte: Ein Kalvinist zwischen Politik und Wissenschaft (Marburg: Trautvetter und Fischer, 2000), pp. 95–138; Theodor Griewank, ‘Das christliche Verbesserungswerk des Landgrafen Moritz und seine Bedeutung für die Bekenntnisentwicklung der kurhessischen Kirche’, Jahrbuch der hessischen Kirchengeschichtlichen Vereinigung, 4 (1953), 38–73.  2 Hartmut Broszinski, ‘Die alchemistische Bibliothek des Landgrafen Moritz. Der Landgraf und die Bücher’, in Gerhard Menk (ed.), Landgraf Moritz der Gelehrte: Ein Kalvinist zwischen Politik und Wissenschaft (Marburg: Trautvetter und Fischer, 2000), pp. 253–62; Martin Bircher, ‘Der Gelehrte als Herrscher. Der Hof von Wolfenbüttel’, in August Buck (ed.), Europäische Hofkultur im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert, 3 vols (Hamburg: Hauswedell, 1981), vol. 1, pp. 105–27; Thomas Gräf, ‘The Collegium Mauritianum in Hesse-Kassel and the Making of Calvinist Diplomacy’, Sixteenth Century Journal, 28 (1997), 1167–80.  3 On funeral books: Jill Bepler, ‘German Funeral Books and the Genre of the Festival Description. A Parallel Development’, in John L. Flood and William A. Kelly (eds), The German Book 1450–1750. Studies Presented to David L. Paisey in His Retirement (London: British Library, 1995), pp. 145–60; Arnaud Rusch, ‘Livres de fête et cérémonies du pouvoir à la cour de Lorraine’, in Olivier Christin (ed.), Un nouveau monde. La naissance de la Lorraine moderne, ex. cat. (Paris: Somogy éditions d’art, 2013), pp. 58–67.  4 The texts were printed in Kassel by Johannes Saur, official printer of the university, but with the addition of copperplate engravings in the two other editions of 1638 and 1640. See Jill Bepler,

Naϊma Ghermani is Maître de Conférences at the University of Grenoble II. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 307–326  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120764

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c h a pter 1 5 . the f un er al of maurice of hesse- ka ssel (1632)

Figure 15.1. Mattheus Merian the Elder, Landgrave Maurice of Hesse-Kassel and his wife, Agnes, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

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folio of more than a thousand pages is served well by the fact that the funerals themselves have captured the attention of researchers in many fascinating and scholarly contributions.5 However, I want to question the funerary ritual in a principality both marked by Calvinism and a certain suspicion regarding rituals and other forms of religious representations. I will demonstrate that the ceremony constitutes a crucial interrogation in the empire after the Lutheran Reformation and that it crystallizes issues both dynastic and denominational. Landgrave Maurice of Hesse-Kassel’s Funeral News of the death of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel reached his son Wilhelm while he was in the battlefield against the Swedes. Wilhelm V immediately sent orders to the nobility of the region of Werra, charging them with the responsibility of conducting Maurice to his final resting place in Kassel, on 20 and 21 March, after his body had been embalmed. On 20 March, he also enacted an ordinance making the period of mourning last one year throughout the territory. Mayors, councillors and officers of the Landgrave are asked to ensure the prohibition of ‘wine fairs, games, dances, and this kind of merrymaking under pain of severe punishment […]. It is equally forbidden to celebrate any marriage for four months without our permission’.6 Pending the funeral ceremonies set for 3 May, the successor of the Landgrave requested that the older members of the court, like the Marshall Urban von Boineburg or Asmus von Baumbach, document their recollections. Meanwhile the numerous preachers of Kassel, those of the Academy and the rest of the principality busy making preparations, left a series of funeral orations and poems that would constitute the primary corpus of the thick Monumentum sepulcrale some years later.7 That publication, which would end up eclipsing the funeral itself, was written within a context of political rivalry between the House of Hesse-Kassel and that of Hesse-Darmstadt concerning the inheritance of the city of Marburg. At the death in 1567 of the hero of the Reformation, Philip of Hesse, the territory was divided into four branches, later reduced to three after the end of the HesseRheinfels line in 1583. In 1604, it was the Landgrave Louis IV of Hesse-Marburg who died without an heir. Maurice of Hesse-Kassel hoped to recover immediately a large part of his cousin’s inheritance, particularly the prestigious University of Marburg, a historical stronghold of Lutheranism. However his rival, the Landgrave Louis V of Hesse-Darmstadt — who also claimed Marburg in his ‘Das Monumentum Sepulcrale: ein Funeralwerk im Dienste dynastischer Selbstdarstellung’, in Moritz der Gelehrte, ein Renaissancefürst in Europa, Exhibition cat. (Kassel: Ed. Minerva Farnung, 1997), pp. 413–17 (p. 418).  5 Bepler, ‘Das Monumentum Sepulcrale’; Claudius Sittig, Kulturelle Konkurrenzen. Studien zu Semiotik und Ästhetik adeligen Wetteifers um 1600 (Göttingen: de Gruyter, 2010).  6 Staatsarchiv Marburg, 4a 38, 9ff, cited by Bepler, ‘Das Monumentum Sepulcrale’, p. 413.  7 Bepler, ‘Das Monumentum Sepulcrale’, pp. 413–14.

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Figure 15.2. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the Landgrave lying in state, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

inheritance — brought the case before the imperial court of justice and argued that Maurice, being too distant from a strictly Protestant lineage, could not present all the guarantees of said inheritance. With the support of the Catholic camp, Louis V of Hesse-Darmstadt won the battle despite Maurice’s numerous appeals, getting the latter to dispose of his inheritance in the upper Hesse in 1623. But upon the death of these two rivals, their successors, Wilhelm V of Hesse-Kassel and George II of Hesse-Darmstadt, reopened hostilities. The context under which Maurice’s funeral was recorded was one of intense dynastic and territorial rivalry. This rivalry exploded into two extravagant funerary publications on the occasion of the death of these two princes, multiplying the engravings and printings in a paper competition. As in his rival’s Ehrengedechtnus, published in 1626 and consisting of around 400 pages, the imposing folio of the Monumentum presented an abundant series of 52 engravings by the famed engraver from Basel, Mattheus Merian the Elder, composed of portraits of the late Landgrave, his two spouses and the children from those two marriages (Figure 15.1).8 These were followed by an image of the Landgrave’s corpse lying in state within a large room (Figure 15.2), and finally, two impressive engravings, spread out over multiple pages, depicting two funeral processions  8 For a detailed comparison of these two works, see: Sittig, Kulturelle Konkurrenzen.

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Figure 15.3. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the funeral convoy at the castle of Eschwege in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

Figure 15.4. Mattheus Merian the Elder, the funeral convoy in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

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Figure 15.5. The mausoleum in the church of Saint-Martin in Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

(Figures 15.3 and 15.4), the first at the Palace of Eschwege near Kassel and the second in Kassel proper, when the body was carried into the dynastic mausoleum in the church of Saint-Martin (Figure 15.5). Another series of engravings was dedicated to the glorious ancestors of the Landgrave, from Philip the Magnanimous to Charlemagne in the form of bountiful family trees (Figure 15.6). The two monumental engravings that unfolded over four pages meticulously describe the procession thanks to the annotations placed beneath certain figural groups, making them rare sources for the way the ceremony unfolded. They help to identify specifically the actors in the absence of a description that usually accompanies this type of engraving.9

 9 For example: Bartholomäus Clamorinus, Historica Narratio, Kurtze erzehlunge und betrübte Rede (Dresden: Gimmel Berg, 1586); Dietrich Gras / Theodorus Graminaeus, Spiegel und abbildung der Vergenchlichkeijt. Dem Durchleuchtigen hochgebornnen Fursten und Hern Johan Wilhelmen, Herzlogen zu Guilich, Cleve und Bergh, Graven zu der Marck und Ravensbergh, Herrn zu Ravenstein &c. In undertheniger gehorsam zugeschrieben Hochloblicher Christmilter gefachtnus Irer F.G. liben Hern Vatters absterben und begrebnus zuverhren und dessen enie lobliche memori (Cologne: Hogenberg, 1592), and Ehrengedechtnus deβ Durchleuchtigen Hochgebornen Fürsten und Herren Herrn Ludwigen Landgraven

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If these images are not exact representations of the ceremony but, rather, representative of the ideal, they then allow us to raise the question of the ritual behind Protestant funerals.10 Protestant Influences on Funeral Rites Maurice’s funeral seems to bring back a model of princely funerals that was specifically developed in the second half of the sixteenth century in Germany. The funerary rituals, in fact, underwent some important changes due to the effect of the Protestant Reformation. From the 1520s, Luther and those close to him who had suppressed the vigils, the wakes, the masses for the deceased and other propitiatory rituals, had early on addressed the need for establishing new ceremonies — especially those for the funeral of one of Luther’s primary patrons, the Elector Frederick the Wise.11 It was necessary to invent a new ‘State funeral’, which removed all remnants of Catholic ritual. Gabriel Zwilling, a pastor of Torgau and close friend of the Reformer, proposed that they accompany the corpse to the tomb with chants in a procession. Yet, within the difficult context of the War of the Peasants (1525) and in the absence of the successor, John of Saxony, who was then engaged in conflict, the reformers stuck with a more traditional solution, as reported by the historian Spalatin in his biography of Frederick.12 The composition of the procession was at the heart of the account that became, in the decades that followed, the object of all the attentions of princely funerary literature. To the extent it was paramount for Luther and his zealots, the community’s tribute to the deceased, as well as the celebration ‘in his honour’ and not the prayers with which he was addressed, the ritual occupied a singularly important place in the procession, which is described at length and is duly ranked. It was to represent the whole of the territorial community, the urban and political bodies who were also part of the community of faithful Lutherans whom the ceremony addressed. The procession went to the church in the chateau where the body had been left, surrounded by 20 individuals holding torches and the coat of arms, while they distributed to the poor ‘a Groschen [coin] made by the master painter Lucas [Cranach] and a Christian silversmith’.

zu Hessen Graven zu Catzenelnbogen Dietz Ziegenhain ynd Nidda (Marburg: Nicolaus Hampel and Kaspar Chemlin, 1626), which also includes a description of the participants.  10 Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, Court Culture in Dresden. From Renaissance to Baroque (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), pp. 181–201; see also the summary in Georges Fréchet, ‘Forme et fonction des livres de pompe funèbres’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque international de la Société Française d’Etude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 199–224.  11 Craig M. Koslofsky, The Reformation of the Dead. Death and Ritual in Early Modern Germany 1450–1700 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000); Naïma Ghermani, ‘Les funérailles des princes protestants dans l’Empire XVIe–XVIIe siècles’, in Juliusz Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Funérailles princières (Paris: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, Versailles; Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), pp. 251–66 (pp. 252–55).  12 Georges Spalatin, Friedrichs des Weisen: Leben und Zeitgeschichte, ed. by C. G. Neudecker and L. Preller ( Jena: Friedrich Mauke, 1851), p. 69.

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Figure 15.6. The genealogy of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel, in Monumentum sepulcrale, 1635–1638.

The service consisted of chants and sermons, including one by Luther. The burial took place the following day. The whole of this funeral was noteworthy for the complete absence of the insignia of power that would accompany the Prince in the procession. The casket is not subject to any particular description: it is unknown if it was covered by a draped cloth or if it was accompanied by other elements. One notes that the electoral regalia, like the mantel and the sword, are not mentioned. In the funeral services, the insignia related to the power of the Prince are reduced only to the coats of arms carried by the 20 individuals gathered around the coffin. Their presence is not groundbreaking. The coats of arms are the most frequent decoration for royal tombs.13 This territorial emblem had characterized princely  13 Kilian Heck, Genealogie als Monument und Argument: Der Beitrag dynastischer Wappen zur politischen Raumbildung der Neuzeit (Berlin and Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2002), pp. 161–252.

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funeral ceremonies since the fifteenth century. Surrounding the Prince’s remains, the coats of arms affirmed the Prince’s territorial seal, intimately tying his body to his possessions. Gathered around his casket, and closing in around him, the Saxon arms proclaimed the foundation of princely power, doubly sustained by their territorial axis and the transmission of their legacy through their ancestors. The promotion of territorial symbols recalls their origins and the legitimacy of a power that is inscribed in the genealogical memory, designating the deceased’s remains as part of a long chain of bodies in direct lineage. This restriction of princely symbolism into one emblematic of dynastic inheritance also better enables the interpretation of modesty in the funerals of the most powerful figure in the empire after the emperor. The second recommendation from the reformers for the burial of a prince concentrated on the sermon, delivered less for the deceased and more for the benefit of the living community in need of comfort, but which was also constructed as a warning. A prayer in Latin was delivered by Melanchthon while Luther twice preached on the First Epistle to the Thessalonians (I Th. 4. 13–18).

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The sobriety of that first ceremony, centred on the dynastic celebration of the Word of God, properly communicated the difficulty that confronted the first reformers and the princes themselves in proposing a legitimate and lasting model for funerals. The first royal funeral ceremonies that followed the development of the Reformation thus appeared to remain faithful to the theological lineage that Luther had gradually built and specifically refined in his forward to a Lutheran hymnal in 1524:14 more than the ritual of the funeral itself, or the procession where dynastic symbols prevailed, the sermons were prioritized, delivered to an assembly of the faithful and systematically published, although not always officially, revealing what was important. Funeral Rituals towards the end of the Sixteenth Century If the first Lutheran rulers should strive to develop a new ritual, this evolved and was gradually fixed by the end of the sixteenth century, particularly in the more innovative Lutheran principalities of the domain. The princely funeral rituals in these territories are consistently the subject of publications, not only for the funerary orations but for the stages of the ceremony that are delivered in the form of dry lists of the participants and the primary stages of the ritual, often illustrated by numerous — and sometimes monumental — engravings. While the early Lutherans showed a certain distrust vis-à-vis the funeral rituals, the rulers of the second half of the sixteenth century, once the initial denominational conflicts had passed, showed themselves to be particularly inventive in that regard. The transformation of their institutional position, their political autonomy reinforced by recognizing the religion in the Peace of Augsburg (1555) authorized them to make funerals a laboratory for ceremonies of power. In fact, beyond the symbolic display of the transition from the deceased prince to his heir, the ritual also took on a performative aspect important within the context of redefining princely power in the empire.15 The funeral ritual reaffirmed, or restored, political order after the death of a prince by hierarchically staging the social organization around the corpse of the deceased, but it is also a means of pursuing more personal aims: displaying the political or dynastic claims of the successor, or even redefining, through gestures or the choice of actors (horses, symbols), a changing power.16 Maurice and his successor are known for having been Calvinists even if this final confession produced no legal acknowledgement prior to the Peace of  14 ‘Vorrede zur der Sammlung der Begräbnislieder 1542’, in Martin Luther, D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Weimarer Ausgabe), 121 vols (Weimar: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1883–2009), vol. 35, pp. 478–83.  15 Gerd Althoff and Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, Spektakel der Macht. Rituale im Alten Europa 800–1800 (Darmstadt: Primus Verlag GmbH, 2008), p. 15, Zeichen Rituale; Naïma Ghermani, Le prince et son portrait. Incarner le pouvoir dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle (Rennes: Publications de l’Université de Rennes, 2009).  16 Koslofsky, The Reformation of the Dead, pp. 8–9.

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Westphalia (1648). This display of Calvinism manifested itself through a rigorous iconoclasm ordered by the Landgrave, to the chagrin of the population, however the burials were not in keeping with Calvin’s strict injunctions in that regard. Indeed, Calvin suggested not ‘bringing the funeral ceremony to the church, but to go directly to the cemetery’.17 Yet, he never legislated on the matter, leaving the task of ensuring the proper conduct of the funeral to the Council of Geneva. With Luther, Calvin and his successors shared an intense distrust with regard to the ‘papist’ ceremonies of the cult of death and emphasized, above all else, the Word of God during the ritual: for these reasons, burials in churches and cloisters were quickly abandoned before being readopted a century later.18 The funeral rituals of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel, which were also those of his grandson, Adolph, who died at a very young age, hardly seem, at first glance, to apply a strictly Calvinist ritual. They closely followed the model of the funerals of Lutheran princes, such as those which had developed 20 years earlier. In the end, the ceremony seemed to follow the same strategy as that of the princes converted during the ‘second Reformation’, adopting the use of tombs inside the churches: despite the disapproval of certain theologians regarding this form of representation, they were preserved with care, whereas the religious paintings and the altars were removed.19 In the abundant iconographic corpus of the Monumentum, one beautiful engraving (see Figure 15.2) is devoted to the exhibition of the Prince’s corpse, dressed in his courtly habits within a large space, probably the room of the Chateau Kassel where the body was exposed, and not the wake, as testified by the absence of religious symbols and the presence of two men at arms who seem to be simply keeping watch.20 Another engraving depicts the two caskets (that of Maurice and that of his grandson) situated, without a doubt, in the church of Saint-Martin, guarded by a soldier and watched by two men who seem to be commenting on the event (see Figure 15.5).  17 Aimé-Louis Herminjard, Correspondance des réformateurs dans les pays de langue française, 9 vols (Geneva: H. Georg, 1897), vol. 9, 1543–1544, no. 1291, p. 65. See also Max Engammare, ‘L’inhumation de Calvin et des pasteurs genevois de 1540 à 1620’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque international de la Société française d’étude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 271–93.  18 Engammare, ‘L’inhumation de Calvin’, pp. 291–92.  19 Nadine Lehmann, ‘Reformierter Bildersturm und Herrschaftsrepräsentation: der Umgang mit fürstlichen Grabmälern während der obrigkeitlichen Bildentfernung im Zuge der Zweiten Reformation’, in Anna-Maria Blank, Vera Isaiasz and Nadine Lehmann (eds), Bild, Macht, Unordnung: visuelle Repräsentationen zwischen Stabilität und Konflikt (Frankfurt-am-Main: Campus Verlag, 2011), pp. 165–93 (pp. 177–78); curiously surprising is this difference between the treatment of religious and profane images. However, if Calvin and Beza rejected the use of devotional images, they did permit the use of images of the deceased ‘in memory’. The portraits of illustrious, living men, however, posed more problems. See Olivier Christin, ‘Mort et mémoire. Les portraits de réformateurs protestants au XVIe siècle’, in Confesser sa foi. Conflits confessionnels et identités religieuses dans l’Europe moderne (Paris: Champ Vallon, 2009), pp. 117–44 (pp. 122–30), and Naïma Ghermani, ‘Une difficile représentation? Les portraits de princes calvinistes dans l’Empire allemand à la fin du XVIe siècle’, Revue historique, 635 (3) (2005), 561–91.  20 Jill Bepler, ‘Das Trauerzeremoniell an den Höfen Hessens und Thüringens in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts’, in Jörg Jochen Berns and Detlev Ignasiak (eds), Frühneuzeitlichen Hofkultur in Hessen und Thüringen (Erlangen and Jena: Palm & Enke, 1993), pp. 249–65 (p. 260).

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In this sense, Maurice’s funeral, like those of certain Lutheran princes, was meant to make a clear distinction from Catholic princely ceremonies: we shall not find, as we would in the territories loyal to Rome, allegorical decoration in the church interior where the body lies in state, nor the castrum doloris. The Protestant ritual consists only of a black drapery hung in the church with heraldic symbols; in this instance, 20 medallions placed on the shroud depicting the Hesse-Kassel coat of arms. Following the example of European funeral ceremonies, the procession aimed to gather together the urban body and that of the State around the remains of the Prince who, as the heart of the representation, is at the centre of the image (see Figure 15.4): artisans, schoolmasters, women of the nobility, but also musicians, and the mayor around the casket, the proximity to which was dictated hierarchically. Here again, in Kassel, the dynastic appearance took precedence through the strong presence of territorial representatives and heraldic symbols carried by numerous nobles and present on the coffin of the Landgrave.21 Followed by a group of knights, the officers of the court, and their marshals, the casket was covered with a black cloth embellished with the coat of arms and also accompanied, behind, by a riderless horse, ‘the funeral horse’ (Klagroß) led by two horsemen on foot, while in front of the nobles grouped around the casket, a rider in armour prances and carries an unsheathed sword. We must pause for a moment to focus on the assembly that surrounds the remains of the prince. The inscriptions of the engraving, contrary to other funeral books accompanied by descriptive accounts and detailed captions, are summarized here. We recognize no less than the governmental body that surrounds the coffin adorned with his coat of arms. The two horses that frame the deceased, one in front and one in back, are also very important. The use of horses by the European monarchies is quite ancient, but experienced a resurgence in the second half of the sixteenth century by the great princes of the empire for their funerals. This model seems to be borrowed from the Saxon princes, which were, in part, inspired by French and imperial royal funerals, especially in their use of horses and coats of arms. In 1586 in Dresden, a new element was introduced on the occasion of the funeral of the Elector, August of Saxony, which would then become the subject of many publications.22 Before the casket we find officers with their regalia and the Prince’s personal effects: the personal squire to the Prince, also known as the ‘Leibpage’, holding the armour with the motto of the Prince, his command staff, and mounted on his horse. The chancellor presents the electoral seal, and the ‘Stallmeister’ (the Equerry), the electoral hat. Finally, a vehicle with six horses pulls the casket covered by a black cloth crossed in white and with the arms of mourning (Trauerwappen). Behind the carriage his successor Christian, the princes of the empire, the Councillors of the Court, and  21 On the significance of genealogy and heraldry in the Monumentum sepulcrale, see Heck, Genealogie als Monument und Argument, pp. 273–88.  22 Ghermani, Le prince et son portrait, pp. 272–75.

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the widow and the princesses bring the heart of the procession to a close. In the convoy, we also note 16 horses, each adorned with the arms of the possessions of the family of Wettiner. The introduction of armour in 1586, revived by Maurice of Hesse-Kassel’s convoy, is unquestionably an innovation that borrows from the French and imperial traditions. In the funeral procession of François Ier on 21 and 22 May, 1547, close to the carriage transporting the casket bearing the king’s remains, the knights on their mounts carry the ‘pieces of honour’: spurs, shield, coat of arms, helmet, and gauntlets, preceded by the Parade Horse. It was the same in 1610 for the funeral of Henri IV.23 However, the armour for the funerals of Dresden and Kassel was not among the other weapons but was specifically isolated by being worn by the page of the deceased. This practice seems to have become fully established in the following decade, in 1591, with the funeral of Christian I of Saxony, during which the Elector’s favourite armour was worn by his page, mounted on the Prince-Elector’s personal horse.24 Some historians see the emergence of armour at the heart of funerals a reflection of a court culture that expands and multiplies the prevalence of jousts and tournaments as part of major dynastic festivals.25 The exhibition of the armour thus alludes to the prince’s taste for chivalric exercises. However, its place within the order of the procession is surprising, given the immediate proximity to the remains of the deceased and processing before the living successor. More specifically, the armour occupies the place of the effigy among the pieces of honour within the ceremonies of the French and English monarchies, to the extent that the ‘page du corps’ wearing it is a kind of living effigy of the late prince.26 In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in France and in England it was common, in fact, to march the knights in armour as ‘representatives of the deceased person when he was living’, as was written in the account of the funeral by the constable Bertrand du Guesclin in 1389.27 If, in France, the pieces

 23 Ralph E. Giesey, Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques dans la France de la Renaissance, translated from English by D. Ebnöther (Paris: Flammarion, 1987), pp. 24, 29, pl. 15; Gérard Sabatier, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises’, in Juliusz Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Funérailles princières, pp. 17–48 (p. 27).  24 Kurtze Beschreibung des Proceβ so bey deβ Durchlauchtige Hochgebornen Hertzogen Christini Churfürstens zu Sachsen etc. Begrebniβ zu Dreβden und Freyberg gehalten worden. Sampt verzeichniβ etlicher fürnemer Trostsprüche welche I.C.F. G. am letzten Ende gebraucht. Und 2. Kupffern Figuren, darinn erstlich zu sehen die wahre Abcontrafeytung von Kleydung, Kleynodien auch kunstreichen Zinnern Sarck darmit der verstorbne Churfürst mit grosser Solemnitet in seine Ruhplatz gesetzet, welchen Proceβ alles nach dem Leben im andern Kupfferstück zu sehen und ordentlich durch Ziffern erklärt wirt. (Aus dem Dreβdischen Original gedruckt zu Frankfurt an der Oder, 1592).  25 Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, Court Culture in Dresden.  26 For the other usages of the effigy, particularly in Italy, see Giovanni Ricci, ‘Les funérailles en effigie en Italie (Ferrare, Venise, Florence, Mantoue, Milan)’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.) Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque international de la Société française d’étude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 159–70.  27 Wolfgang Brückner, ‘Roß und Reiter im Leichenzeremoniell. Deutungsversuch eines historischen Rechtsbrauches’, Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde, 16 (1965), 144–209 (153).

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of honour were carried by pages of the King’s Household, they were dissociated from the representatives of the State apparatus by the effigy. As for the horse covered in black cloth following the coffin, it is somewhat reminiscent of the ‘horses of honour’ in France that were, according to Giesey, remnants of the offerings made in the era of the Crusades. The funeral of Emperor Maximilian II in 1576–1577 shows the symbolism of the riderless horse: in the immediate vicinity of the imperial coffin we find the ‘horse of mourning’ (Klagroß) of the ‘personal horse’ (Leibroß, word-for-word the horse of the corpse), sumptuously dressed in equestrian armour and ceremonial saddle, also rendering as present the absent monarch. Sometimes the two horses represent the following: the first, representing the deceased — his hooves wrapped in fabric to make his march silent; the second, symbolizing the successor, whose trot can resound against the pavement. In some funeral processions, like those of William de Jülich-Cleves, the horses numbered at least a dozen, accompanied by ‘helmets and shields’, short of forming a carriage of heraldic weaponry. The latter, according to the author, based on Pliny’s Natural History (XXXV. 2), echoed the effigies of the ancestors amongst the Romans.28 We find the same principle in the funeral procession of Joachim Ernest of Brandenburg-Ansbach in 1625, where several horsemen carried the helmet, the sword, and the deceased’s motto.29 This group of horses generally represents a lordship. G. Fréchet sees this staging as the chivalric ideal of a man who dedicated himself to God.30 If this aspect is unquestionable, the fact remains that the personal arms of the prince refer to his actions and likewise present themselves as substitutes for his person. The armour, because it is required by the prince and personalized (even though the straps allow for adjustments), can be claimed as the authentic corporeal envelope of the prince. For Maurice’s funeral, the cavalier in armour could be his heir but is, for the majority of the funeral ceremony, behind and not in front of the body of the deceased. This armoured cavalier seems, therefore, to refer to a practice already identified in other principalities: the ‘representation of the deceased person’ coming to ensure visually the continuity of dynastic power beyond death.31 In this sense, the funeral of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel testified to a movement suitable for the great principalities of the empire that tend to appropriate monarchical uses within the context of strong political autonomy in the territories.32

 28 Gras, Spiegel und abbildung der Vergenchlichkeijt, unpaginated. On the subject, see Arnaud Rusch, Entre aube et crépuscule d’un règne: les pompes funèbres gravées pour les ducs de Juliers, Clèves et Berg dans la première moitié du XVIIe siècle, Masters thesis under the direction of Sandra Costa and Naïma Ghermani (Université de Grenoble II, 2010).  29 Ordnung, Weyland deß Durchleuchtigen Hochgebornen Fürsten und Herrn, Herrn Joachim-Ernesten Marggraffen zu Brandenburg… Fürstl.LeichBegängnuß, wie dieselbe Montags den 25. Aprilis Anno 1625 zu Onoltzbach von dem Fürstlichen Schloß auß, in die Stadtkirchen … die Leichbestattung angestellet worden (Onoltzbach: Paulus Böhm, 1625).  30 Fréchet, ‘Forme et fonction des livres’, p. 214.  31 Ghermani, ‘Les funérailles des princes protestants’, p. 258.  32 Ghermani, ‘Les funérailles des princes protestants’, p. 263.

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The procession made its way towards the church of Saint-Martin of Kassel, dynastic mausoleum since the founder of the Reformation in Hesse, Philip the Magnanimous, was buried there in the crypt located beneath the choir. In doing so, Philip and his successors remained faithful to tradition despite the important theological debates occurring within their own camp that greatly challenged the ad sanctos burials in the church, especially those in or beneath the choir. Yet the princes seemed to ignore this debate magnificently and persisted in choosing the choir as the privileged site for their tombs. When the Council of Trent prohibited burials in the choir — which was to remain, from that point forward, exclusively reserved for the celebration of the Eucharist — the Lutheran princes, and Calvinists like Maurice, invested massively in that site. Certainly, in the two denominations, the church was no longer a sacred space but a place for the Word of God and the administration of the Sacraments. It was, most of all, a place for the community of the faithful to gather, where the social order was made visible by the placement of each individual and their proximity to the choir, where the altar is located. Incidentally, Luther continued to agree with having a distinct place in the choir from which to administer Communion and the celebration of God. It thus remains the ‘sanctum sanctorum, the place where God was present in the sacraments’.33 The uniqueness of the choir helps explain why the Prince would choose that place for legitimizing the power he would exercise ‘by the grace of God’. The choir was, therefore, not only the place for the social memoria but for the dynastic memoria as well. It is without a doubt for this reason that Maurice and his successor, caught in the turmoil of a territorial and familial dispute, did not dare to innovate by choosing another resting place. But despite the denominational differences dominant in their funerals, the will to be seen as the sole, legitimate successor of the first reformer Prince, Philip of Hesse, just as it had never ceased to re-establish the figure of St Elisabeth of Hesse as a dynastic figure, illustrates that he hoped to capture the appeal of a denomination yet purify the cult of the saints.34 Far from being a repetitive and traditional ritual, the funeral of Maurice of Hesse-Kassel expressed well the denominational and institutional tensions that spanned the empire in the first years of that ‘war of religion’ that is known as the Thirty Years’ War.

 33 Oliver Meys, Memoria und Bekenntnis: die Grabdenkmäler evangelischer Landesherren im Heiligen Römischen Reich Deutscher Nation im Zeitalter der Konfessionnalisierung (Tübingen: Schnell & Steiner, 2009), p. 55.  34 Naïma Ghermani, ‘Des princes plutôt que des saints? Protestantisme, pouvoir politique et sainteté dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle’, in Florence Buttay and Axelle Guillausseau (eds), Des saints d’Etat? Politique et sainteté au temps du concile de Trente (Paris: Presses de l’université Paris-Sorbonne, 2012), pp. 123–36 (pp. 129–30).

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Bibliography Early Printed Books

Clamorinus, Bartholomäus, Historica Narratio, Kurtze erzehlunge und betrübte Rede (Dresden: Gimmel Berg, 1586) Ehrengedechtnus deβ Durchleuchtigen Hochgebornen Fürsten und Herren Herrn Ludwigen Landgraven zu Hessen Graven zu Catzenelnbogen Dietz Ziegenhain ynd Nidda (Marburg: Nicolaus Hampel and Kaspar Chemlin, 1626) Gras, Dietrich / Graminaeus, Theodorus, Spiegel und abbildung der Vergenchlichkeijt. Dem Durchleuchtigen hochgebornnen Fursten und Hern Johan Wilhelmen, Herzlogen zu Guilich, Cleve und Bergh, Graven zu der Marck und Ravensbergh, Herrn zu Ravenstein &c. In undertheniger gehorsam zugeschrieben Hochloblicher Christmilter gefachtnus Irer F.G. liben Hern Vatters absterben und begrebnus zuverhren und dessen enie lobliche memori (Cologne: Hogenberg, 1592) Kurtze Beschreibung des Proceβ so bey deβ Durchlauchtige Hochgebornen Hertzogen Christini Churfürstens zu Sachsen etc. Begrebniβ zu Dreβden und Freyberg gehalten worden. Sampt verzeichniβ etlicher fürnemer Trostsprüche welche I.C.F. G. am letzten Ende gebraucht. Und 2. Kupffern Figuren, darinn erstlich zu sehen die wahre Abcontra­ feytung von Kleydung, Kleynodien auch kunstreichen Zinnern Sarck darmit der ver­ storbne Churfürst mit grosser Solemnitet in seine Ruhplatz gesetzet, welchen Proceβ alles nach dem Leben im andern Kupfferstück zu sehen und ordentlich durch Ziffern erklärt wirt (Aus dem Dreβdischen Original gedruckt zu Frankfurt an der Oder, 1592) Monumentum sepulcrale, ad illustrissimi Celsissimique Principis ac Domini, Dn.Mauritii Hassiae Landgravii…Memoriam Gloriae Sempiternam Erectum (Kassel: Johann Saur, 1638) Ordnung, Weyland deß Durchleuchtigen Hochgebornen Fürsten und Herrn, Herrn JoachimErnesten Marggraffen zu Brandenburg… Fürstl.LeichBegängnuß, wie dieselbe Montags den 25. Aprilis Anno 1625 zu Onoltzbach von dem Fürstlichen Schloß auß, in die Stadt­ kirchen … die Leichbestattung angestellet worden (Onoltzbach: Paulus Böhm, 1625) Primary Sources

Luther, Martin, D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Weimarer Ausgabe), 121 vols (Weimar: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1883–2009) Spalatin, Georges, Friedrichs des Weisen: Leben und Zeitgeschichte, ed. by C. G. Neudecker and L. Preller ( Jena: Friedrich Mauke, 1851) Secondary Sources

Althoff, Gerd and Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, Spektakel der Macht. Rituale im Alten Europa 800–1800 (Darmstadt: Primus Verlag GmbH, 2008) Bepler, Jill, ‘Das Trauerzeremoniell an den Höfen Hessens und Thüringens in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts’, in Jörg Jochen Berns and Detlev Ignasiak (eds), Frühneuzeitlichen Hofkultur in Hessen und Thüringen (Erlangen and Jena: Palm & Enke, 1993), pp. 249–65

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—— , ‘German Funeral Books and the Genre of the Festival Description. A Parallel Development’, in John L. Flood and William A. Kelly (eds), The German Book 1450–1750. Studies Presented to David L. Paisey in His Retirement (London: British Library, 1995), pp. 145–60 —— , ‘Das Monumentum Sepulcrale: ein Funeralwerk im Dienste dynastischer Selbstdarstellung’, in Moritz der Gelehrte, ein Renaissancefürst in Europa, Exhibition cat. (Kassel: Ed. Minerva Farnung, 1997), pp. 413–17 Bircher, Martin, ‘Der Gelehrte als Herrscher. Der Hof von Wolfenbüttel’, in August Buck (ed.), Europäische Hofkultur im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert, 3 vols (Hamburg: Hauswedell, 1981), vol. 1, pp. 105–27 Broszinski, Hartmut, ‘Die alchemistische Bibliothek des Landgrafen Moritz. Der Land­ graf und die Bücher’, in Gerhard Menk (ed.), Landgraf Moritz der Gelehrte: Ein Kal­vinist zwischen Politik und Wissenschaft (Marburg: Trautvetter und Fischer, 2000), pp. 253–62 Brückner, Wolfgang, ‘Roß und Reiter im Leichenzeremoniell. Deutungsversuch eines historischen Rechtsbrauches’, Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde, 15–16 (1964–1965), 144–209 Christin, Olivier, ‘Mort et mémoire. Les portraits de réformateurs protestants au XVIe siècle’, in Confesser sa foi. Conflits confessionnels et identités religieuses dans l’Europe moderne (Paris: Champ Vallon, 2009), pp. 117–44 Fréchet, Georges, ‘Forme et fonction des livres de pompe funèbres’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque international de la Société française d’étude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 199–224 Engammare, Max, ‘L’inhumation de Calvin et des pasteurs genevois de 1540 à 1620’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque international de la Société française d’étude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 271–93 Ghermani, Naïma, ‘Une difficile représentation? Les portraits de princes calvinistes dans l’Empire allemand à la fin du XVIe siècle’, Revue historique, 635 (3) (2005), 561–91 —— , Le prince et son portrait. Incarner le pouvoir dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle (Rennes: Presses de l’université de Rennes, 2009) —— , ‘Les funérailles des princes protestants dans l’Empire XVIe–XVIIe siècles’, in Juliusz Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Funérailles princières (Paris: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme; Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), pp. 251–66 —— , ‘Des princes plutôt que des saints? Protestantisme, pouvoir politique et sainteté dans l’Allemagne du XVIe siècle’, in Florence Buttay and Axelle Guillausseau (eds), Des saints d’Etat? Politique et sainteté au temps du concile de Trente (Paris: Presses de l’université Paris-Sorbonne, 2012), pp. 123–36 Giesey, Ralph E., Le roi ne meurt jamais: les obsèques dans la France de la Renaissance, translated from English by D. Ebnöther (Paris: Flammarion, 1987) Gräf, Thomas, ‘The Collegium Mauritianum in Hesse-Kassel and the Making of Calvinist Diplomacy’, Sixteenth Century Journal, 28 (1997), 1167–80 Griewank, Theodor, ‘Das christliche Verbesserungswerk des Landgrafen Moritz und seine Bedeutung für die Bekenntnisentwicklung der kurhessischen Kirche’, Jahrbuch der hessischen Kirchengeschichtlichen Vereinigung, 4 (1953), 38–73

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Heck, Kilian, Genealogie als Monument und Argument: Der Beitrag dynastischer Wappen zur politischen Raumbildung der Neuzeit (Berlin and Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2002) Herminjard, Aimé-Louis, Correspondance des réformateurs dans les pays de langue française, vol. 9 (Geneva: H. Georg, 1897) Koslofsky, Craig M., The Reformation of the Dead. Death and Ritual in Early Modern Germany 1450–1700 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000) Lehmann, Nadine, ‘Reformierter Bildersturm und Herrschaftsrepräsentation: der Umgang mit fürstlichen Grabmälern während der obrigkeitlichen Bildentfernung im Zuge der Zweiten Reformation’, in Anna-Maria Blank, Vera Isaiasz and Nadine Lehmann (eds), Bild, Macht, Unordnung: visuelle Repräsentationen zwischen Stabilität und Konflikt (Frankfurt-am-Main: Campus Verlag, 2011), pp. 165–93 Menk, Gerhard, ‘Die “Zweite Reformation” in Hessen-Kassel. Landgraf Moritz und die Einführung der Verbesserungspunkte’, in Heinz Schilling (ed.), Die reformierte Konfessionalisierung in Deutschland. Das Problem der ‘Zweiten Reformation’ (Güters­ loh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus G. Mohn, 1986), pp. 154–83 —— , ‘Die Konfessionspolitik des Landgrafen Moritz’, in Gerhard Menk (ed.), Landgraf Moritz der Gelehrte: Ein Kalvinist zwischen Politik und Wissenschaft (Marburg: Traut­ vetter und Fischer, 2000), pp. 95–138 Meys, Oliver, Memoria und Bekenntnis: die Grabdenkmäler evangelischer Landesherren im Heiligen Römischen Reich Deutscher Nation im Zeitalter der Konfessionnalisierung (Tübingen: Schnell & Steiner, 2009) Ricci, Giovanni, ‘Les funérailles en effigie en Italie (Ferrare, Venise, Florence, Mantoue, Milan)’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les funérailles à la Renaissance, XIIe colloque inter­ national de la Société française d’étude du XVIe siècle (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 159–70 Rusch, Arnaud, Entre aube et crépuscule d’un règne: les pompes funèbres gravées pour les ducs de Juliers, Clèves et Berg dans la première moitié du XVIIe siècle, Masters thesis under the direction of Sandra Costa and Naïma Ghermani (Université de Grenoble II, 2010) —— , ‘Livres de fête et cérémonies du pouvoir à la cour de Lorraine’, in Olivier Christin (ed.), Un nouveau monde. La naissance de la Lorraine moderne, Exhibition cat. (Paris: Somogy éditions d’art, 2013), pp. 58–67 Sabatier, Gérard, ‘Les funérailles royales françaises’, in Juliusz Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Funérailles princières (Paris: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, Versailles: Centre de recherches du château de Versailles, 2012), pp. 17–48 Sittig, Claudius, Kulturelle Konkurrenzen. Studien zu Semiotik und Ästhetik adeligen Wetteifers um 1600 (Göttingen: de Gruyter, 2010) Watanabe-O’Kelly, Helen, Court Culture in Dresden. From Renaissance to Baroque (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002) —— , ‘The Early Modern Festival Book: Function and Form’, in J.  R. Murlyne, Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans: Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), vol. 1, pp. 3–18.

Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen

Chapter 16. Staging the Queen’s Funeral in Seventeenth-Century Denmark The Case of Sophie Amalie of Brunswick-Lüneburg

On 20 February 1685 Queen Sophie Amalie (1628–1685), since 1670 widow of King Frederik III (1609–1670), died at her residence, Sophie Amalienborg in Copenhagen. Although the Queen had suffered from dyspnoea during her final years, death came to her suddenly and unexpectedly, apparently after an apoplectic fit. The official account of her end, published in the newsletter Maanedlige Relationer,1 described her exemplary death in the presence of her son King Christian V (1646–1699), her private chaplains, and the court staff. Back-stage testimonies, however, depicted a far more dramatic sequence of events. According to the envoy of Brandenburg, Friedrich von Brandt, the Queen had during her agony lost the faculty of speech, thus being unable in a proper way to part from the world by word of mouth. In a state of paralysis she expired, resting not in her bed, but in an armchair after having been removed from the privy.2 The King and Queen Charlotte Amalie (1650–1714) only arrived some 15 minutes before the end.3 The drama was further confirmed by the late Queen’s sister-in-law, Leonora Christine (1621–1698), daughter of King Christian IV (1577–1648) and wife of the exiled Steward of the Realm — cum traitor — Count Corfitz Ulfeldt. As a state-prisoner for 22 years after her husband’s treason against the Danish Crown, Leonora Christine did not mince her words when in her memoirs, Jammers Minde, describing the dying of her arch-enemy and rival: ‘… death would not wait for the arrival of his Majesty Christian V, so that the Queen Dowager might say a word to him. She was still alive, sitting on a chair, but she was speechless and soon afterwards, in the same position, she gave up her spirit’.

 1 Maanedlige Relationer […] (Copenhagen: Johan Philiph Bokkenhoffer, 1685–1695), p. 9 (February, 1685).  2 See J. A. Fridericia, ‘Enkedronning Sofie Amalies Testamente’, Historisk Tidsskrift, 8 (4) (1913), 83–97 (83–84).  3 ‘Kort relation om […] Joachim Henrich von Bülows beskyldninger’, in Royal Archive, Kongehusets Arkiv. Frederik 3. og Dronning Sophie Amalie, Kommissionen over overhofmarskal J. H. Bülow (202, 17, no. 5 II K).

Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen is Editor of Danmarks Kirker [Danish Churches]. Princely Funerals in Europe 1400–1700: Commemoration, Diplomacy, and Political Propaganda, ed. by Monique Chatenet, Murielle Gaude-Ferragu, and Gérard Sabatier, European Festival Studies (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021) pp. 327–344  10.1484/M.EFS-EB.5.120765

FHG

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The biased portrait of Sophie Amalie, presented in Jammers Minde (published only in 1869), would dominate the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century historiography of the Queen,4 as well as inspiring the painter Kristian Zahrtmann (in 1882) to depict the undignified aspects of the dowager’s last farewell to her son as part of a visual martyrology, dedicated to Leonora Christine, the suffering victim of ‘the evil queen’ [Plate XIX]. Sophie Amalie was presented in all her mental and corporeal decay, even stigmatizing the alleged love of splendour of the 57-year-old lady through the meticulous representation of her luxurious dress and costly paraphernalia. These prejudices have contributed to divert attention from the magnificent staging of her funeral, performed according to the prevalent tripartite structure of early modern royal funerals, yet with variations according to the Danish version since 1670.5 In the case of Sophie Amalie the ceremonials included a public lying-in-state, a castrum doloris, and a funeral service, all performed at her dowager residence; a state procession from the palace to the funeral church, Roskilde Cathedral; and the final burial in the royal crypt. Though detailed accounts of her castrum doloris and the permanent tomb monument will not be dwelt on here,6 both nevertheless constituted important elements of the general image. This was the first pompe funèbre performed for a Danish queen since the introduction of absolutism in 1660,7 displaying in several ways (including the visual memorials) a parallel to the King’s funeral — the state procession surpassed his with respect to the number of participants, the choreography, and its subsequent communication. The death and burial of Queen Sophie Amalie will be examined in the context of previous ceremonials, contrasting the performance with previous, more modest queenly practices in the seventeenth century during the constitution of Electoral Monarchy,  4 On the revaluated historiography since the 1980s, Jørgen Hein and Katia Johansen, Sophie Amalie. Den onde dronning?, Exhibition cat. (Copenhagen: Rosenborg, 1986); Jørgen Hein, ‘Sophie Amalie’, in Jytte Larsen et al. (eds), Dansk Kvindebiografisk Leksikon, 4 vols (Copenhagen: Rosinante, 2001), vol. 3, pp. 348–49.  5 Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand thêâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’homme, 2012). On royal funerals in early modern Denmark, see Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Les funérailles royales en Suède et au Danemark du XVIe au XVIIe siècle entre conflit, compétition et consensus’, in Chrościcki, Hengerer, and Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières, vol. 1, pp. 303–34; Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Mater Patriae in Memoriam. Les funérailles des reines dans le Danemark absolutiste’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2013), pp. 247–68; Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Ars moriendi more regio: Royal Death in 16th Century Denmark’, Journal of Early Modern Christianity, 1 (1) (2014), 51–90.  6 On the royal castrum doloris, Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘“Til Evig Ære Minde”. Studier i enevældens kongelige castrum doloris’, in Hugo Johannsen (ed.), Kirkens bygning og brug. Studier tilegnet Elna Møller (Copenhagen: Nationalmuseet, 1983), pp. 151–80. The Queen’s monument has been recently described by Anette Kruse, ‘Frederik 3. og Sophie Amalie’, in Karin Kryger (ed.), Danske Kongegrave, 3 vols (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2014), vol. 2, pp. 364–81.  7 See Michael Bregnsbo, ‘Danish Absolutism and Queenship: Louisa, Caroline Matilda, and Juliana Maria’, in Clarissa Campbell Orr (ed.), Queenship in Europe 1660–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 344–67.

chapter 16. staging the queen’s funeral in seventeenth-century denmark

yet at the same time anticipating by eight years the no less splendid funeral in Stockholm in 1693 for Queen Ulrica Eleonora of Sweden (1656–1693), born Princess of Denmark and the daughter of Frederik III and Sophie Amalie. In particular, the body of the Swedish queen was exposed in an exuberant castrum doloris, following models of French and Roman Baroque as transmitted through texts and images.8 To no less extent than the Danish example, this funeral was exploited as a political statement, consolidating absolute monarchy, introduced in Sweden in 1680, and acclaiming equality ‘non seulement de la monarchie la plus puissante de l’Europe contemporaine mais aussi de l’empire le plus glorieux de tout l’histoire’.9 Although Sophie Amalie’s obsequies with respect to publicity admittedly lagged behind those of her daughter, both should be taken into account in the current debate on royal bodies in the wake of the seminal research by Ernst Kantorowicz.10 Though a contested site, the body-discourse has proved its raison d’être when navigating between complex issues, raised by cases of ruling queens as heads of state, co-regents, or guardians during the minority of the King. Here the claim to a queenly body politic might have justification. Nonetheless her bodily powers would always require the proximity to a male body,11 the King’s consort in the patriarchal construction of medieval and early modern monarchy basically being ‘einen Bestandteil der korporativen Einheit, die der König repräsentiert’ and serving the essential continuity of the dynasty.12 This tradition was also applied to the early modern queens of Denmark, who never, however, acquired the status as reigning queens. Yet, as has been argued, the queens did in a figurative sense possess a ‘third’ performative or representational body,13 in particular with their death constituting a virtual platform for negotiations on the nature of royal power.

 8 Mårten Snickare, ‘De la procession à l’oeuvre d’art total. Les transformations de la cérémonie funéraire royale dans la Suède du XVIIe siècle’, in Chrościcki, Hengerer, and Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort, pp. 341–53.  9 Snickare, ‘De la procession à l’oeuvre d’art total’, p. 352 (‘not only with the most powerful monarchy in contemporary Europe, but also with the most glorious empire in all history’).  10 Ernst H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957). The subject of the duplex bodies of kings and queens was in particular debated at ‘The Royal Body Conference’, 2–4 April 2012, at Royal Holloway, University of London: for abstracts, see [accessed 15 June 2020].  11 Regina Schulte, ‘Introduction. Conceptual Approaches of the Queen’s Body’, in Regina Schulte (ed.), The Body of the Queen. Gender and Rule in the Courtly World, 1500–2000 (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2006), pp. 1–18 (p. 1).  12 ‘A part of the corporate unity, which the king represents’, see Peter-André Alt, Der Tod der Königin. Frauenopfer und politische Souveränität im Trauerspiel des 17. Jahrhunderts (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2004), p. 29. According to Alt, the political powerlessness of the queen would endow her with a victimized status as dramatized in seventeenth-century German tragedies.  13 See David Taylor, ‘Imaging the Queen’s Third Body: Displaying Desire and Expectation in Portraits of Catherine of Braganza’, Abstract from ‘The Royal Body Conference’, 2012 (note 10), abstract.

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First Act: From Deathbed to Funeral Service The final moments of Queen Sophie Amalie became, as indicated, soon after her death the object of a rewriting, transforming the apparent drama of reality into a version more compatible with the Protestant standard of ars moriendi more regio.14 Following the ideal according to Martin Luther, for the first time fully described at the demise of King Christian III (1503–1559) and subsequently witnessed at the dying of both kings and queens, she received a few hours ‘before expiring with the deepest devotion, the sacrament of the Communion’15 probably attended by her court-chaplain, Hermann Ertmann, who also delivered the German funeral sermon. This source, which equally might have testified to her end, is not extant. Missing as well is the Queen’s last will, probably delineating her personal wishes for the funeral. Indirect knowledge of its content (though not concerning the burial) can, however, be deduced from other sources,16 mentioning the extraordinary dispositions of the Queen, disregarding the normal rights of inheritance by favouring her youngest son, Prince Jørgen (George, consort to Queen Anne of England) at the expense of her other children, in particular the King. This ‘unqueenly’ lack of decorum naturally caused Christian V’s great fury. Following tradition, the course of the Queen’s last illness and death was described by her personal physician, J. H. Brechtfeldt.17 In contrast to general customs in place since the sixteenth century for kings, though only for a few queens,18 neither she, nor her immediate predecessors, Anna Cathrine (1575–1612) and Sophie (1557–1631), consorts of Christian IV and Frederik II, appear to have been the subject of an embalming procedure, as has subsequently been ascertained through archaeological examination.19 This may well have been due to a personal wish of the Queen,20 who also declined any superfluous luxury in her burial attire, as did Queen Charlotte Amalie, who expressly preferred the use of linen and lace instead of silver and gold.21 A related strategic expression of modesty and of King Frederik III’s (d. 1670) humility, most fitting for a pious Queen, was verbalized by Queen Ulrica Eleonora, who according to her funeral sermon refused ‘the placement in the coffin of royal tokens of dignity or regalia’, as well as any funerary exuberance in general, preferring instead to transfer the

 14  15  16  17  18

See Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Ars moriendi more regio’, 51–90. Maanedlige Relationer, p. 9. Fridericia, ‘Enkedronning’, pp. 83–79. Account of 21 February 1685 in Royal Archive, Privatarkiver, Christian Lente, Breve 1665–1700. See Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Ritual and Representational Aspects of the Royal Funeral Ceremonial in Early Modern Denmark’, in Torsten Fischer and Thomas Riis (eds), Tod und Trauer, Todeswahrnehmung und Trauerriten in Nordeuropa (Kiel: Ludwig, 2006), pp. 56–76.  19 On Sophie Amalie, see the report by Steen Friis, 1866, quoted in Danmarks Kirker. Københavns Amt, pub. by the National Museum, vol. 3 (4) (Copenhagen: G. E. C. Gad, 1951), p. 1872. On Anna Cathrine and Sophie, see reports of 1991 and 1995 respectively in the National Museum, Antikvarisk-Topografisk Arkiv. The coffin of Sophie Amalie was restored in 2008, yet leaving the inner coffin unexamined.  20 See also Waltraud Stangl, Tod und Trauer bei den Österreichischen Habsburgern 1740–1780 dargestellt im Spiegel des Hofzeremoniells (Saarbrucken: SWH, 2010), pp. 149 ff.  21 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘“Til Evig Ære Minde”’, p. 165.

chapter 16. staging the queen’s funeral in seventeenth-century denmark

expenses into charity.22 Fragments of lace, simple linen clothing, and only a few ornaments were indeed found in the coffins of Anna Cathrine and Sophie. Possibly clothed in a similar simple dress, which subsequently has turned into dust, the body of Sophie Amalie, however, had been wrapped in an exuberant shroud, akin to the rich silken textile with gold and silver lace, found in the coffin of Frederik III and previously presented at his lit de parade23 [Plate XX]. A cap or cloth of golden brocade covered her head. These textile expressions of majesty match the splendour of the following ceremonies. At the same time, they manifested a distinct separation from the funerary customs of the nobility and higher citizenry, from previous years, (promulgated only in 1682) — regulated by a number of consumptory laws, strictly forbidding any material extravagance relating both to dress and to the décor of the coffins.24 Details about the lying-in-state of Sophie Amalie can only be illustrated by way of scattered credit vouchers from the estate of the deceased.25 As mentioned above, her small, but fashionable dower residence, Sophie Amalienborg, became the stage for the first act of the funeral [Plate XXI].26 Expenses for mourning clothes, wax candles, and black draperies, hung in the ‘Sal’, probably her audience hall, give a glimpse of the practical arrangements, of which her First Court Marshal, Joachim Heinrich von Bülow, was in charge. The deceased Queen was apparently presented to the public in the said hall. Given the fact that Sophie Amalie was not embalmed, the body — ‘as already much disfigured’ — was deposited in the coffin only three days after her death.27 This double coffin of oak and pinewood, decorated with black velvet and lace, (made c. 1688) was placed in a permanent sarcophagus of gilded copper (see below). Neither the exact duration nor any details of the lit de parade were recorded.28 However, as an extraordinary statement of the elevated status of the absolute Queen, this act was succeeded by a castrum doloris in the chapel of the residence chapel imitating the ephemeral decoration erected in 1670 for Frederik III in the Church of Copenhagen Castle and duplicated in Sophienkirche in Dresden (Figure 16.1).29  22 Isogæus, Simon ÆTERNITATI SACRUM! Swea Pust, Himla Lust […] (Stockholm: [n. pub.], 1693), p. 118.  23 Danmarks Kirker. Københavns Amt, p. 1872.  24 Kjøbenhavns Diplomatarium, ed. by O. Nielsen, 10 vols (Copenhagen: G. E. C. Gad, 1838–1896), vol. 7 (1886), pp. 17–26. See also, Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Om kongelige begravelsesskikke på Christian IV’s tid’, in Anette Kruse, Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen et al. (eds), Fru Kirstens Børn. To kongebørns begravelser i Roskilde domkirke (Copenhagen: Poul Kristensen, 1988), pp. 35–64 (p. 42).  25 Royal Archive, Kongehusets Arkiv. Dronning Sophie Amalies dødsbo, 1685–1686. Bilag (202, 9, no. 7).  26 On the residence, see Fr. Schiött, ‘Sophiæ Amalienborg’, Architekten, 9 (1906–1907), 245–53, 257–65.  27 ‘Efterretning om huis forregangen er […]’, Royal Archive, Kongehusets Arkiv, Frederik 3, og Dronning Sophie Amalie, Kommissionen over overhofmarskal J. H. Bülow (202, 17, no. 5 II E).  28 In comparison, Frederik III was presented on a lit de parade from February, three days after his death, until 20 March, subsequently to be placed under the castrum doloris from 30 March until 3 May, see Memorial in Royal Archive, Overhofmarskallatet, Ceremonialprotokoller, Hofceremonier ved Liig-Begaengelser, 1640–1746 (212, O, no. 5), also published by C. L. Løvenskiold, ‘To Ceremonieller m.m. ved det danske Hof i det 17de Aarhundrede’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (6) (1877–1879), 7–115 (98–100).  29 On the engraving of Frederik III’s castrum doloris, either as a free depiction of the decoration in Copenhagen or more probably as a representation of the Dresden version see Birgitte Bøggild

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Figure 16.1. The castrum doloris of King Frederik III (d. 1670).

chapter 16. staging the queen’s funeral in seventeenth-century denmark

Details of the queenly structure were praised by contemporaries as both magnificent and costly,30 but they are scant and will not be elaborated upon here. However, it should be pointed out that the castrum doloris constituted the focus for the public funeral service, performed on 26 March 1685. This ritual innovation, the earliest presented in Denmark after the introduction of absolutism, would displace the moment and setting for the main liturgical act, no longer celebrated as an integrated part of the burial in Roskilde Cathedral, but now as an individual ritual, thus minimizing the final ceremonies, related to the interment. In parallel to the King’s funeral service, the primarius of the Danish Church, the Bishop of the Diocese of Zealand, Hans Bagger (1646–1693), made the Danish funeral oration,31 while — as already mentioned — the Queen’s private chaplain Hans Ertmann presented his German version of the chosen text (Psalms 16. 8–9). None of these are known. Neither available are the funeral sermons, which were presented not only in the churches of Copenhagen and Nykøbing Falster, main loci of the dowager’s private domains,32 but in every church in the double monarchy of Denmark-Norway.33 The moment of public mourning comprised a nationwide tolling of bells, orchestrated as an introitus to the funeral service and also setting out acoustically the period of general lamentation, from the day after the Queen’s death till the coffin had been safely deposited in the burial crypt. In this respect, the rites followed tradition, established at the death of Queen Anna Cathrine in 1612 and, since then, performed for kings (including the Crown Prince Christian (d. 1647) and queens alike, inspiring the mourning subjects to wail and sigh for divine protection of the government during these disturbing times, as emphasized in 1648 at the death of Christian IV.34 Second Act: The State Procession Since the death of Frederik II and Christian IV, in 1588 and 1648 respectively, a large heraldic procession with a rich display of standards and a presentation of the royal regalia had accompanied the coffin of deceased monarchs to their last Johannsen, ‘Ritual and Representational Aspects’, p. 66.  30 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘“Til Evig Ære Minde”’, p. 161.  31 See the publication of the King’s Latin funeral sermon by Bishop Hans Wandal in Johs Wandal, Gloriosa Memoria Divi Frederici Tertii […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1670).  32 Anordning, Hvorledis Wj […] ville, at med […] Dronning Sophie Amalie, […] hendis ligs begiengelse og forflottelse herfra Staden til Roskilde, oc de dertil horende Ceremonier skal forholdis, in Royal Archive, Danske Kancelli, Sjaellandske Registre, 1685–1686 (C 6 k, no. 5), with copy in Overhofmarskallatet, Ceremonialprotokoller, Hoceremonier ved Liig-Begaengelser, 1640–1746 (212, O, no. 6); P. W. Becker (ed.), ‘Ceremoniellet ved enkedronning Sophie Amalies Ligbegængelse’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (5) (1876–1877), 268–75. See also the account of the funeral in Maanedlige Relationer, pp. 17–19; Anonymous, Ihrer Kön. May. Sophiæ Amalie […] Leich-Procession […] (n. p.: n. pub., 1685).  33 See orders of 14 March 1685, in Royal Archive, Danske Kancelli, Sjællandske Tegnelser, 1685–1686 (C 8 k, no. 94).  34 L. Laursen et al (eds), Kancelliets Brevbøger1551–1660, 39 vols (Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzel, 1885–2005), vol. 13 (1609–1615), p. 481; vol. 18 (1630–1632), p. 581; vol. 26 (1647), p. 212; vol. 27 (1648), p. 48. On Frederik III, see Royal Archive, Danske Kancelli, Sjællandske Tegnelser, 1670–1672 (C 8 d, no. 98).

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station.35 Clad in mourning, representatives from the royal family, the court, government, university and the estates, including members of the local magistrates and churches, formed integral parts of this visual display en miniature of the body politic of the Realms. Queenly — that is, reduced — versions of the grand parade were demonstrated at the funerals of Anna Cathrine and Sophie. In 1612, both male and female members of the local nobility in Zealand, Lolland-Falster and Funen were summoned to escort the coffin of Anne Cathrine the short distance from Copenhagen Castle to her preliminary burial church, the city’s Church of Our Lady.36 When the Queen Dowager Queen Sophie, mother to Christian IV, died in 1631 at her residence in Nykøbing Falster, an even grander parade of the nobility of the Realms was arranged, also comprising the nobility of Jutland and the Swedish provinces, though expressly excluding the royal lord lieutenants who guarded the frontiers.37 Though the two queenly parades apparently did not include territorial heraldry or the royal regalia, both to no less a degree than the King’s processions staged the dignity of the Danish monarchy. The marked upgrading of the funeral procession in 1631 might also be read in the context of the Grand Wedding (‘Det Store Bilager’) of the Crown Prince in 1634,38 the most spectacular court festival held in continental Europe during the Thirty Years’ War, celebrated at a moment when the defeated Danish king was highly in need of symbolic compensation for his political misfortunes. The changed ritual and representational status of the absolute King was — as already inferred — openly manifested at Frederik III’s funeral in 1670, not only by introducing the castrum doloris, but equally through visualizing the difference from his predecessors with the exuberant sarcophagus of gilded silver and copper, ordered less than a fortnight after the King’s death.39 A striking contrast represented, however, the unusual simplicity of his nightly funeral procession, only mustering a limited retinue of representatives from the army and the royal horse guard as well as 20 coaches with the ministers. The hearse, drawn by eight horses, was followed by two royal coaches with the successor, Christian V, his brother, Prince Jørgen, and two more distant male relatives. Neither the Queen nor her daughters attended the well-guarded cortège, which passed through the dark streets of Copenhagen towards Roskilde. No particular measures as to illuminations along the route are mentioned, in apparent opposition to the succeeding procession of Sophie Amalie in 1685, not to mention that of Christian V in 1699, being compared to ‘Via lactea’, the celestial light show of the Milky Way.40 The remarkable de-escalation of the act was explained by contemporaries as the  35 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Les Funérailles royales en Suède et au Danemark’. Christian IV was temporarily interred in the Church of Our Lady in Copenhagen, prior to his translation to Roskilde.  36 See Laursen, Kancelliets Brevbøger, vol. 13 (1609–1615), p. 481.  37 See Laursen, Kancelliets Brevbøger, vol. 18 (1630–1632), pp. 574–84.  38 See Mara R. Wade, Triumphus Nuptialis Danicus. German Court Culture and Denmark. The ‘Great Wedding’ of 1634 (Wiesbaden: Harassowitz, 1996).  39 Danmarks Kirker. Københavns Amt, pp. 1871 ff.; Kruse, ‘Frederik 3. og Sophie Amalie’, pp. 364–81.  40 Anonymous, Udførlig Beskrivelse Paa […] Kong Christian den Femtes […] herlige Begængelse og Jordefærd […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1699), p. 16.

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expression of the King’s personal wish or — in the reverse — following economy measures by the Queen.41 The last claim, however, is completely contradicted by a referred utterance of annoyance by the Queen, regretting the ‘plain’ (slet) procession for the late monarch, including the too brief tolling of the bells at the last stage of the ritual. A moderating incentive may also have been the still unsettled choice of burial place; the court (as a remarkable break with tradition) had, apparently, during the preparations been considering St Nicholas Church in Copenhagen as an option instead of Roskilde Cathedral.42 Accordingly, the pompous funeral procession for Sophie Amalie would represent the re-establishment of previous grandeur, yet transformed in accordance with the changed political status of absolute monarchy. As mentioned above, the representational potential of a nightly pompe funèbre was now fully exploited, highlighting the drama, the exclusivity, and the symbolic connotations of a ceremony performed in the dark.43 The Queen’s coffin was placed upon the hearse at nine in the evening. The solemn procession started immediately after, accompanied by the tolling of church bells, activated two hours before the ceremony and continuing until the parade had left Copenhagen. The procession followed the main streets from the residence towards the official exit for traffic towards Roskilde, the Western Gate (Vesterport), passing the metropole’s principal public buildings and private residences.44 As explicitly commanded, the houses along the route were illuminated with ‘as many burning candles as possible’, in this way directly inviting the submissive citizens to participate.45 The cortège itself, however, had a distinctly exclusive character, being carefully guarded by the military. Companies of the civic guard and the royal halberdiers shielded the royal hearse and the King’s coach, or were deployed at the major public squares, preventing gatherings and disorder (‘ald trengen og Uorden’) among the crowds. The royal family was represented by Christian V, his half-brother, Ulrik Frederik Gyldenløve (1638–1704) and his sons, Crown Prince Frederik (1671–1730) and Prince Christian (1675–1695). A numerous array followed, comprising officials from the court, the government and civic administration, the army and navy, the majority mounted upon horseback or accompanied by mourning coaches. The usual hierarchical order was observed around the nuclei of the procession, the hearse of the deceased Queen and the King’s coach, both strategically highlighted by a multitude of torches. At the outskirts of the city, participants not invited to follow the hearse to Roskilde were strictly ordered to return to their previous duties. On the day of the  41 P. W. Becker (ed.), Samlinger til Danmarks Historie under Kong Frederik den Tredies Regering af udenlandske Archiver, 2 vols (Copenhagen: Deichmann, 1857), vol. 2, pp. 285–86; J. A. Fridericia (ed.), ‘Uddrag af Relationer fra brandenburgske Afsendinge i Danmark i Aarene 1670–1671’, Danske Magazin, 4 (6) (1886), 75–79.  42 Fridericia, ‘Uddrag af Relationer’, 77.  43 This effect was widely exploited all over Europe from the seventeenth century: see, in general, Chrościcki, Hengerer and Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières, vol. 1.  44 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Mater Patriae in Memoriam’, vol. 2, pp. 247–68.  45 See Anordning, § 5; also quoted in Becker, ‘Ceremoniellet ved enkedronning’, 271.

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Figure 16.2. Commemorative medal, distributed at the funeral of Queen Sophie Amalie 26 March 1685

funeral, memorial medals were additionally distributed following the King’s example in 1670 (Figure 16.2).46 In toto, the funeral procession of 1685 would constitute a rehearsal of the succeeding, even more pompous, staging of royal processions, keeping the tradition of the exuberant heraldic display as well as the accompaniment of kettledrums and trumpets. The show of ephemeral decorations in urban spaces would also be further elaborated, for kings and queens alike.47 The contrast to Sweden in this respect is remarkable. As argued by Mårten Snickare,48 the grand funeral parade, magnificently displayed at the burial in 1660 of Charles X Gustavus, lost its raison d’être during absolutism. At the funeral of Ulrica Eleonora, a large and militarily well-guarded procession certainly took place on the day of the obsequies, 28 November 1693. However, this served mainly as a prelude to the apogee, the combined ceremony of castrum doloris and burial service in the Ridderholmskyrkan. The coffin with the deceased Queen had already at that moment been installed in the catafalque.49 Although representatives from the estates, even including peasants, were summoned to be present, the change from the dynamic procession to the static burial ceremony in the church would emphasize the distance and perfect control, specific to the absolute monarchy, further visualizing that ‘le roi ou la reine n’appartenaient pas à la meme catégorie que

 46 Georg Galster, Danske og norske Medailler og Jetons c. 1533–c. 1788 (Copenhagen: A. F. Høst & Søn, 1936), pp. 125, 147.  47 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Mater Patriae in Memoriam’, pp. 247–68.  48 Snickare, ‘De la procession à l’oeuvre d’art totale, pp. 341–53.  49 See the printed description of the procession and castrum doloris, in Kort Relation Om Högst Sahl. […] Drottning Ulricae Eleonorae Lijk Process […] ([n. p.: n. pub.], [1693]), trans and ed. by Mårten Snickare with Mara Wade, in ‘The Funeral of Queen Ulrika Eleonora the Elder in 1693’, in J. R. Mulryne, Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans. Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), vol. 2, pp. 324–41 (pp. 228–41).

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leurs sujets’.50 During the time of Danish absolutism, a similar shift was witnessed from state ceremonial in full public view and with broad participation to court ceremonial in a confined space with distinctly more restricted participation, in particular during the royal anointings. However, the strategy of secluded distance would be abandoned at chosen occasions, not only at royal funerals, but also at weddings, diplomatic entrances, and state jubilees, in all giving way to public processions, fireworks, and festivities with the involvement of every stratum of society.51 Third Act: The Interment and Subsequent Publicity The final act of the Queen’s funeral was performed early on 27 March 1685. At eight in the morning her coffin was received at the porch of the cathedral by his Majesty in person, accompanied by his half-brother, Ulrik Frederik Gyldenløve and a chosen favourite of his, Ferdinand Wilhelm, Duke of WürttembergNeuenstadt (1659–1701), previously sharing the royal coach in the procession. The retinue, including 15 courtiers and military officers of the highest rank, followed the deceased to her final resting place in the royal crypt beneath the Chapel of Christian IV. The presence of representatives from the church, giving the deceased their last blessing, is left unnoticed, but may be deduced e silentio. The reduced ceremonial at this last phase was repeated for the King in 1699, though with a more populous parade, including the funeral paraphernalia (‘al Kongelig Sørge-Stats og Herlighed’), probably the royal canopy and the banners.52 An eyewitness, visiting the crypt in 1685 — the poet Mikkel Hansen Jernskæg — confirmed the difference between the King’s sarcophagus, sparkling in gold and silver, and the modest queenly coffin, clad in black velvet.53 Yet only a few years later, (c. 1688), the representational gap between the King’s and Queen’s memorials was to be diminished in a remarkable way. The exuberant sarcophagus of Frederik III would be replaced by a less costly monument for the King, made of copper and brass, to be exactly repeated for the Queen, though on a slightly smaller scale (Figure 16.3). The funeral equilibrium between the absolute monarch and his consort was once more established. The importance, paid to the first grand staging of a royal funeral procession after the introduction of absolutism, would be reflected by the issuing of printed descriptions in Danish and German of the Queen’s cortège, following the previous royal ordinance. The publication of the obsequies, together with two panegyrics, would also include a Latin oration, presented at the university  50 ‘The king or the queen did not belong to the same category as their subjects’, see Snickare, ‘De la procession à l’oeuvre d’art totale’, p. 350.  51 Also see Sebastian Olden-Jørgensen, ‘State Ceremonial, Court Culture and Political Power in Early Modern Denmark, 1536–1746’, Scandinavian Journal of History, 27 (2) (2002), 65–76 (especially 74).  52 Anonymous, Udførlig Beskrivelse Paa, p. 16.  53 C. Calundan, (ed.), ‘Michel Hansen Jernskjægs Beskrivelse af Roskilde Domkirke’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (6) (1877–1879), 206–29.

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Figure 16.3. The sarcophagus of Queen Sophie Amalie.

on 30 March, in accordance with tradition since the sixteenth century.54 Yet, as mentioned above, her funeral sermons in Danish and German were never published, in contrast to previous printed funeral sermons for kings and queens alike — the earliest queenly example commemorated Anna Cathrine in 1612.55 The publishing of the solemn occasion was restricted only to her memorial medal. This was a remarkable contrast to the ambitious project, partly carried out, in the wake of Ulrica Eleonora’s funeral in 1693, which propagated a series of prints, made after drawings by the royal architect in charge of the ceremonials, Nicodemus Tessin the Younger (1654–1728) and his assistants.56 Once again, the publicity policy of the Swedish court reflects its far more focused character in comparison with that of the Danish.57 In Denmark, a Danish translation of the description of her obsequies was issued together with two Latin orations, given at the university in Copenhagen in honour of the Danish-born queen, yet none of the publications was unillustrated.58  54 See Chr. V. Bruun (ed.), Biblioteca Danica, 5 vols (Copenhagen: Gyldendal / F. Hegel & Søn, 1884), vol. 3, col. 205.  55 Hans Poulsen Resen, Anna-Catharina. Den XXIII. Kong Davids Psalme […] der Dronning AnnæCatharinæ bleff nedsæt […] i vor Frue Kircke i Kiøbenhaffn […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1612; German ed. Giessen, 1614).  56 Mårten Snickare, Enväldets riter. Kungliga fester och ceremonier i gestaltning av Nicodemus Tessin den Yngre (Stockholm: Raster, 2001), pp. 88, 191–94. See also the illustrated funeral sermon, in Isogaeus, ÆTERNITATI SACRUM!, 1693.  57 See also Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Les funérailles royales en Suède et au Danemark’, pp. 303–34.  58 Bruun, Biblioteca Danica, vol. 3, cols 210, 214.

chapter 16. staging the queen’s funeral in seventeenth-century denmark

Epilogue From a European perspective, the magnificent staging of the seventeenth-century funerals for the Danish and Swedish queens should not be regarded as isolated examples. Irrespective of the eventual reduction in their actual political power, a number of royal or princely women would be ceremonially exposed in a similar way. Though Marie-Thérèse (1638–1683), queen of France and consort to Louis XIV was not, at her accession to the throne, graced with the traditional consecration, thus depriving her of ‘la grace divine qui constitutait le fondement de sa distinction’,59 she was, nevertheless, in 1683 given a funeral, in every respect in accordance with royal dignity, even introducing innovations in relation to the lit de parade. The intensification of attention to the ceremony is further reflected in the extraordinary abundance of documentary evidence.60 The important strategy of the Queen’s funeral, to no lesser degree than that of the King — during times of political crisis or change symbolically bringing about a kind of ritual catharsis — was witnessed (for instance) at the funeral in 1646 of Maria Anna (1606–1646), Holy Roman Empress and wife of Ferdinand III, who died at Linz during the Thirty Years’ War. Yet her obsequies, for which the details were recorded by her High Steward, Friedrich Christoph von Khevenhüller, would give occasion for a thorough revision of prior uses, presenting for the first time the three principal elements of burial practice, used by the Habsburgs.61 Political stratagems, though of a more specific nature, would equally determine the sumptuous and richly documented burial in 1695 of Queen Mary II (1662–1694) of Great Britain, wife of King William III, ‘clearly intended to bolster the rule of her unpopular Dutch husband’.62 However, it became the last royal funeral to be performed in grand style for British monarchs before the nineteenth century. In the case of Queen Sophie Amalie, the ceremonial upgrading of her funeral to be equal to that of the King represented a remarkable break with tradition, in Denmark even setting a standard for the future. However, this would in no way reflect a corresponding enlargement of her political status. While the Queen, at the change of constitution in 1660, became a well-defined and integrated part of the absolute and hereditary royal body politic, her status, though second in power only to the King, would still remain secondary, as reflected in the ritual staging of her accession to the throne.63 In contrast to her queenly colleagues,

 59 ‘The divine grace, which constituted the foundation of her distinction’; see Fanny Cosandey, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir (Paris: Gallimard, 2000), p. 253.  60 Fréderique Leferme-Falguières, ‘Les pompes funèbres des Bourbons, 1666–1789’, in Chrościcki, Hengerer and Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, pp. 49–72 (pp. 50–52).  61 Beatrix Bastl and Mark Hengerer, ‘Les funérailles impériales des Habsbourg d’Autriche, XVe–XVIIIe siècle’, in Chrościcki, Hengerer and Sabatier, Les funérailles princières, vol. 1, pp. 91–116 (pp. 105–17).  62 Michael Schaich, ‘The Funerals of the British Monarchy’, in Michael Schaich (ed.), Monarchy and Religion. The Transformation of Royal Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 423.  63 Bøggild Johannsen, ‘Mater Patriae in Memoriam’, pp. 247–68.

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Figure 16.4. Frontispiece of the queen’s sarcophagus in Roskilde Cathedral.

Sophie Amalie had, during her lifetime, the misfortune of being sparsely recorded, which still leaves open the question as to whether she herself actively contributed to the planning of her own post-mortem commemoration. All the same, the Queen, whom a Danish historian, some 50 years after her death, praised for her extraordinary powers beyond her sex (‘She had the capacity as a statesman and the heart of a soldier …, so that she was regarded as the wheel, by which everything was driven’),64 would probably have rejoiced at the visual and verbal glorification in her tomb monument. Here she was portrayed between the allegories of Piety and Wisdom and eulogized for her ‘heroic virtues, pure piety, sincere royal clemency, her manly mind and countenance, replete with Majesty’ (Figure 16.4).65 Indeed, the pompe funèbre of 1685 should, in common with the contemporary memorialization in image and word, literally constitute Queen Sophie Amalie’s finest moment.  64 Ludvig Holberg, Dannemarks Riges Historie, vols 1–3 (1732–1735), in Carl S. Petersen (ed.), Ludvig Holbergs Samlede Skrifter, 18 vols (Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1913–1963), vols 6–8 (1923–1927) (Holberg, vol. 3), pp. 513–14.  65 Danmarks Kirker. Københavns Amt, p. 1870.

chapter 16. staging the queen’s funeral in seventeenth-century denmark

Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Documents

Copenhagen, National Museum, Antikvarisk- Topografisk Arkiv. Reports from 1991 and 1995 on the analysis of the bodies of the queens, Anna Cathrine and Sophie Copenhagen, Royal Archive, Danske Kancelli, Sjællandske Registre og Tegnelser, 1685–1686; on Frederik III, 1670–1672 (C 8 d, no. 98); orders of 14 March 1685, 1685–1686 (C 8 k, no. 94); Anordning, Hvorledis Wj […] ville, at med […] Dronning Sophie Amalie, […] hendis ligs begiengelse og forflottelse herfra Staden til Roskilde, oc de dertil horende Ceremonier skal forholdis, 1685–1686 (C 6 k, no. 5) —— , Kongehusets Arkiv, Frederik 3. og Dronning Sophie Amalie, Kommissionen over overhofmarskal J. H. Bülow (202, 17, no. 5 II K); Dronning Sophie Amalies dødsbo, 1685–1686, Bilag (202, 9, No. 7) —— , Overhofmarskallatet, Ceremonial protokoller, Hofceremonier ved LiigBegaengelser, 1640–1746 —— , Privatarkiver, Christian Lente, Breve 1665–1700 Early Printed Books

Anonymous, Ihrer Kön. May. Sophiæ Amalie […] Leich-Procession […] ([n. p.: n. pub.], (1685)) Anonymous, Udførlig Beskrivelse Paa […] Kong Christian den Femtes […] herlige Begængelse og Jordefærd […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1699) Isogæus, Simon ÆTERNITATI SACRUM! Swea Pust, Himla Lust […] (Stockholm: [n. pub.], 1693) Maanedlige Relationer […] (Copenhagen: Johan Philiph Bokkenhoffer, 1685–1695) Poulsen Resen, Hans, Anna-Catharina. Den XXIII. Kong Davids Psalme […] der Dronning Annæ-Catharinæ bleff nedsæt […] i vor Frue Kircke i Kiøbenhaffn […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1612; German ed. Giessen, 1614) Wandal, Johs, Gloriosa Memoria Divi Frederici Tertii […] (Copenhagen: [n. pub.], 1670) Primary Sources

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Becker, P. W. (ed.), Samlinger til Danmarks Historie under Kong Frederik den Tredies Regering af udenlandske Archiver, 2 vols (Copenhagen: Deichmann, 1857), vol. 2 —— , (ed.), ‘Ceremoniellet ved enkedronning Sophie Amalies Ligbegængelse’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (5) (1876–1877), 268–75 Bøggild Johannsen, Birgitte, ‘“Til Evig Ære Minde”. Studier i enevældens kongelige castrum doloris’, in Hugo Johannsen (ed.), Kirkens bygning og brug. Studier tilegnet Elna Møller (Copenhagen: Nationalmuseet, 1983), pp. 151–80 —— , ‘Om kongelige begravelsesskikke på Christian IV’s tid’, in Anette Kruse, Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen et al. (eds), Fru Kirstens Børn. To kongebørns begravelser i Roskilde domkirke (Copenhagen: Poul Kristensen, 1988), pp. 35–64 —— , ‘Ritual and Representational Aspects of the Royal Funeral Ceremonial in Early Modern Denmark’, in Torsten Fischer and Thomas Riis (eds), Tod und Trauer. Todeswahrnehmung und Trauerriten in Nordeuropa (Kiel: Ludwig, 2006), pp. 56–76 —— , ‘Les funérailles royales en Suède et au Danemark du XVIe au XVIIe siècle entre conflit, compétition et consensus’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 303–34 —— , ‘Mater Patriae in Memoriam. Les funérailles des reines dans le Danemark absolutiste’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (Versailles: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2013), pp. 247–68 —— , ‘Ars moriendi more regio: Royal Death in 16th Century Denmark’, Journal of Early Modern Christianity, 1 (1) (2014), 51–90 Bregnsbo, Michael, ‘Danish Absolutism and Queenship: Louisa, Caroline Matilda, and Juliana Maria’, in Clarissa Campbell Orr (ed.), Queenship in Europe 1660–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 344–67 Bruun, Chr. V. (ed.), Biblioteca Danica, 5 vols (Copenhagen: Gyldendal / F. Hegel & Søn, 1884), vol. 3 Bunnett, Fanny E. (ed.), Memoirs of Leonora Christina, Daughter of Christian IV of Denmark (New York: E. P. Dutton & Company, 1929) Calundan, C. (ed.), ‘Michel Hansen Jernskjægs Beskrivelse af Roskilde Domkirke’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (6) (1877–1879), 206–29 Chrościcki, Juliusz A., Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012) Chrościcki, Juliusz A., Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 2, Apothéoses monumentales (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2013) Cosandey, Fanny, La reine de France. Symbole et pouvoir (Paris: Gallimard, 2000) Danmarks Kirker. Københavns Amt, pub. by the National Museum, vol. 3 (4) (Copenhagen: G. E. C. Gad, 1951) Fridericia, J. A. (ed.), ‘Uddrag af Relationer fra brandenburgske Afsendinge i Danmark i Aarene 1670–1671’, Danske Magazin, 4 (6) (1886), 75–79

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Fridericia, J. A., ‘Enkedronning Sofie Amalies Testamente’, Historisk Tidsskrift, 8 (4) (1913), 83–97 Galster, Georg, Danske og norske Medailler og Jetons c. 1533–c. 1788 (Copenhagen: A. F. Høst & Søn, 1936) Hein, Jørgen, ‘Sophie Amalie’, in Jytte Larsen et al. (eds), Dansk Kvindebiografisk Leksikon, 4 vols (Copenhagen: Rosinante, 2001), vol. 3, pp. 348–49 Hein, Jørgen and Katia Johansen, Sophie Amalie. Den onde dronning?, Exhibition catalogue (Copenhagen: Rosenborg, 1986) Holberg, Ludvig, Dannemarks Riges Historie, vols 1–3 (1732–1735), in Carl S. Petersen (ed.), Ludvig Holbergs Samlede Skrifter, 18 vols (Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1913–1963), vols 6–8 (1923–1927) Kantorowicz, Ernst H., The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957) Kruse, Anette, ‘Frederik 3. og Sophie Amalie’, in Karin Kryger (ed.), Danske Kongegrave, 3 vols (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2014), vol. 2, pp. 364–81 Laursen, L. et al. (eds), Kancelliets Brevbøger 1551–1660, 39 vols (Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzel, 1885–2005), vols 13 (1916), 18 (1932), 26–27 (1989–1991) Leferme-Falguières, Fréderique, ‘Les pompes funèbres des Bourbons, 1666–1789’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 49–72 Løvenskiold, C. L., ‘To Ceremonieller m.m. ved det danske Hof i det 17de Aarhundrede’, Danske Samlinger, 2 (6) (1877–1879), 7–115 Olden-Jørgensen, Sebastian, ‘State Ceremonial, Court Culture and Political Power in Early Modern Denmark, 1536–1746’, Scandinavian Journal of History, 27 (2) (2002), 65–76 ‘Royal Body Conference’, 2–4 April 2012, at Royal Holloway, University of London: for abstracts, see [accessed 15 June 2020]. Sabatier, Gérard and Mark Hengerer, ‘Le grand théâtre de la mort’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe–XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 7–13 Schaich, Michael, ‘The Funerals of the British Monarchy’, in Michael Schaich (ed.), Monarchy and Religion. The Transformation of Royal Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), pp. 421–50 Schiött, Fr., ‘Sophiæ Amalienborg’, Architekten, 9 (1906–1907), 245–65 Schulte, Regina, ‘Introduction. Conceptual Approaches of the Queen’s Body’, in Regina Schulte (ed.), The Body of the Queen. Gender and Rule in the Courtly World, 1500–2000 (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2006), pp. 1–18 Snickare, Mårten, Enväldets riter. Kungliga fester och ceremonier i gestaltning av Nicodemus Tessin den Yngre (Stockholm: Raster, 2001) —— , ‘The Funeral of Queen Ulrika Eleonora the Elder in 1693’, in J. R. Mulryne, Watanabe-O’Kelly and Margaret Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans. Court and

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Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), vol. 2, pp. 324–41 —— , ‘De la procession à l’oeuvre d’art totale. Les transformations de la cérémonie funéraire royale dans la Suède du XVIIe siècle’, in Juliusz A. Chrościcki, Mark Hengerer and Gérard Sabatier (eds), Les funérailles princières en Europe, XVIe– XVIIIe siècle, vol. 1, Le grand théâtre de la mort (Versailles: Éditions de la Maison des Sciences de l’homme, 2012), pp. 341–53 Stangl, Waltraud, Tod und Trauer bei den Österreichischen Habsburgern 1740–1780 dargestellt im Spiegel des Hofzeremoniells (Saarbrucken: SWH, 2010) Wade, Mara R., Triumphus Nuptialis Danicus. German Court Culture and Denmark. The ‘Great Wedding’ of 1634 (Wiesbaden: Harassowitz, 1996)

Index

Achaea, princes of: 143 Achilles, Albert: 118 Adrian VI, pope (1100–1159): 158, 159 n. 9 Aeneas: 193 Agostin, Antonio: 158 n. 6, 166 n. 56, 177 n. 98 Alba, duke of: 236 Albert II of Habsburg, king of Germany (1397–1439): 115 Albret, Marie d’, duchess of Nevers (1491–1549): 199 Alcalá de Henares: 226, 294 n. 19 Alciato, Andrea (1492–1550): 173 Alençon, Catherine d’, duchess of Bavaria (before 1396–1462): 66 Alessandri, Alessandro/Alexander ab Alexandro: 159 Alexander V, pope (1340–1410): 49 Alexander VI, pope (1431–1503): 52 Alfonso II of Aragon, king of Naples. Also named Alfonso the Magnanimous (1448–1495): 135 Allègre, Antoine: 160, 173, 175 Alvarotti, Giulio: 195 n. 39, 196 n. 43 Agincourt. See Azincourt Amboise, château: 67, 187, 193 Collegiate Church of Saint-Florentin: 67 Amboise, Georges d’, cardinal (1460–1510): 19, 194, 199 Ameil, Pierre: 48–51, 53–54 American Indians: 161 Ancher of Troyes/Anchero Pantaléon, cardinal (c. 1210–1286): 54 André, Blaise: 200, 201, 202 Andronikos II Palaiologos (1259–1332), Bizantine emperor (1282–1328): 48 Aneau, Barthélemy (1506–1561): 20, 169 n. 72–73, 173 n. 90

Anet, Château: 171 n. 77 Chapelle funéraire: 175 n. 95 Anglería, Pedró Mártir de (1457–1526): 76 n. 14 Angulo, Martín de, prior of Yuste: 220 n. 1, 224 n. 2 Anjou Charles Robert of. See Charles I, king of Hungary Anjou, dukes of: 40 Anjou, René d’. See René d’Anjou Anjou, Marie d’. See Marie d’Anjou Anna Cathrine of Brandenburg, queen of Denmark and Norway (1575–1612): 330, 331, 333, 334, 338 Annebault, Claude d’, admiral of France (c. 1495–1552): 196 Anne d’Autriche, queen of France (1601–1666): 44, 251, 255, 259, 260, 265, 266, 269 Anne de Bretagne, queen of France (1477–1514): 41, 65­n. 46, 67, 68–69, 158 n. 3, 161, 162 n. 30, 165 n. 52, 186 n. 5, 189, 192 n. 22, 24, 29, 30, 31, 190, 191, 193, 194, 196, 199, 210, 213 Anne de France, duchess of Bourbon. Also named Anne de Beaujeu (1461– 1522): 67–68, 163 n. 37, 192 n. 22 Anne of Austria. See Anne d’Autriche Anne of Bohemia, queen of England (1366–1394): 89, 100 Anne of Cyprus, duchess of Savoy. Also named Anne de Lusignan (1418–1462): 142–44 Anne of Savoy, queen of Naples (1455–1480): 67 Ansbach: 118, 322 Anthony of Florence, Saint: 159 n. 9 Antoninus Pius, Roman emperor (138–161): 158 n. 6

346

i n dex

Appian, P.: 163 n. 38 Arabaca: 295 Argellata, Pietro d’ († 1423): 49 Armagnacs: 66, 84 Arnolfo di Cambio (1240–1310): 54 Artemisia, queen of Caria: 40, 157, 158, 160, 170, 173, 175 n. 94, 177, 178, 179 Artois: 79 n. 23, 80, 234 Astarac, Jacqueline d’, dame de Mailly (1476– after 1549): 192 Ath, Hainaut: 79 n. 23 Athenaeum: 164 Augsburg: 34, 41, 109, 114, 226, 229, 230 Cathedral: 230 Augsburg, Peace of (1555): 318 Augustine, Saint (354–430): 125, 166 n. 58, 168 Aulus Gellius (c. 123/130– c. 180): 158 n. 2 Austria: 80, 116, 159, 236 Austria, House of. See Habsburg Dynasty Auvergne, Martial. See Martial d’Auvergne Avalos, Alfonso de, marquès del Vasto y Pescara (1502–1546): 227 Avaugour, François II d’, comte de Vertus († 1549): 192 Avignon: 48, 54, 218 Aytona, Marquis of: 291 Azincourt, Battle of. Also named Agincourt (1415): 58 Baden, Marquis of: 79 Bagger, Hans, bishop of Zealand (1646–1693): 333 Balduccio, Giovanni di (1300–1349): 127 Baltasar Carlos of Spain (1629–1646): 289–90, 292, 294–95, 300 Bamberg: 110 Bandello, Matteo (c. 1485–1561): 171 n. 81 Barbavara, Francesco († 1513/1515): 124 Barcelona: 225, 228 Basel: 311 Basel, Council of: 141

Basin, Thomas (1413–1491): 74 n. 8 Baumbach, Asmus von (1587–1673): 310 Bayonne: 203 Béarn: 70 n. 66, 161 n. 28, 164. See also Foix-Béarn Beaujeu, Anne de. See Anne de France Beaujeu, Pierre de. See Bourbon, Pierre II de Bedford, John of Lancaster, duke of, regent of France (1389–1435): 58–59, 61, 63 Bella, Gabriel (1730–1799): 214 Beaulaincourt, Antoine de (1533–1559): 84 n. 27, 233 Beaune: 195 Belleforest, François de (1530–1583): 163 n. 39, 171 n. 82, 172 n. 85, 175 n. 97, 176 Benedict XII, pope (c. 1285–1342): 48 Bernáldez, Andrés (1415–1513): 78 n. 20 Beroaldo, Philippo (1453–1505): 159 Berghes, Robert de (c. 1520–1565): 233 Berni, Francesco (1497–1535): 279 n. 20 Bernini, Gian Lorenzo (1598–1680): 279 Beveren, Lord of: 80 Béthune: 79 n. 23 Beza, Theodorus/Bèze, Théodore de (1519–1605): 319 n. 19 Biondo, Flavio (c. 1392–1463): 157 n. 1, 158, 164 n. 43, 169 Blanche de France, duchess of Orléans (1328–1393): 66 Blanche of Navarre, queen of France (1331–1398): 66 Blois, Château: 162 n. 30, 189, 192 Collegiate church of Saint-Sauveur: 197 Boaistuau, Pierre (1517–1566): 171 n. 81, 172 n. 84, 173 n. 91 Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313–1375): 158 Boineburg, Urban von (1553–1639): 310 Boitard, E.: 167 n. 61 Bohemia, kingdom of. Also named Czech kingdom: 115, 116 Bologna: 49, 52, 212, 226

index

Basilica S. Petronius: 228 Spanish College: 228 University: 49 Boniface VIII, pope (c. 1235–1303): 48, 49, 54 Bonisoli. See Ognibene dei Bonisoli Boschini, Marco (1602–1681): 282 Bosworth Field, battle of (1485): 102 Bontemps, Pierre (c. 1507–1568): 171 n. 80 Bourbon Dynasty: 40, 44, 263, 69, 80, 264, 268, 278, 339 n. 60. See also SaintDenis, sepulchre Bourbon, Isabel de. See Isabel de Bourbon Bourbon, Jeanne de. See Jeanne de Bourbon Bourbon, Louis de, cardinal (1493–1557): 203 Bourbon, Louis II, duke of Bourbon (1337–1410): 66 Bourbon, Louis-Alexandre de, count of Toulouse (1678–1737): 251 Bourbon, Louis-Auguste de, duke of Maine (1670–1736): 251 Bourbon, Pierre II de, duke of Bourbon. Also named Pierre de Beaujeu (1438–1503): 68, 189, 192, 199 Bourbon, Suzanne de, duchess of Bourbon (1491–1521): 69 Bourbon de la Boulaye, Jean de, abbot (1418–1431) of Saint-Denis: 62 Bourbon-Condé, Henri II de (1588–1646): 204 Bourbon-Condé, Louis II de. Also named Le Grand Condé (1621–1686): 251, 266 Bourbon-Lancy: 69 Bourbon-Montpensier, Marie de, duch­ ess of Orléans (1605–1627): 204, 259 Bourbon-Saint-Pol, Marie de, duchesse d’Orléans-Longueville (1539–1601): 203 Bourdichon, Jean (c. 1556–c. 1521): 66, 67 Bourron, Jean, abbot of Saint-Germain: 62 n. 24

Bourgueville, Charles de (1504–1593): 170 n. 76 Boussu. See Hénin Brabant: 75, 80, 160, 234, 236 Bramante, Donato (1444–1514): 136 n. 47 Brandenburg, Margraviate: 118 Brandenburg-Ansbach, Joachim Ernest, margrave (1583–1625): 322 Brandt, Friedrich von, envoy of Brandenburg: 327 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeilles abbé de (c. 1537–1614): 193 n. 28 Brazil: 164 Brechtfeldt, J. H., physician: 330 Bresse, Philip of. See Savoy, Philip II Brittany, Ann of. See Anne de Bretagne Brittany, Francis II of/Bretagne François II de (1435–1488): 68 Brou, Monastery: 160 Bruges: 64 n. 38, 13 n. 1, 75, 76, 239 Church of Our Lady: 84 Ducal Chapel: 76 Saint-Donatian Cathedral: 75, 78 Bruges, Louis of (1422–1492): 62 n. 24 Brunswick-Lüneburg, Carla Felicita of, duchess of Modena and Reggio (1671–1710): 283 Brunswick-Lüneburg, Sophie Amalie (1628–1685): 37, 38, 44, 327–31, 333–35, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340 Brussels: 34, 35, 231–32, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 291 n. 10 Collegiate church of Saint Gudule: 233, 236, 238 Gallo-Roman burial tumulus: 160 Royal palace of Coudenberg: 233 Brutus of Troy: 193 Budé, Guillaume (1467–1540): 159 Bulland, Poly: 75 Bullant, Jean (c. 1515–1478): 171 n. 80 Burckard, Jean (c. 1450–1506): 52, 135 n. 42 Bülow, Joachim Heinrich von: 327, 331 Burgos: 75, 76 n. 14, 79, 83

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Burgundy: 41, 73, 80, 145, 150, 236 Burgundy, Anthony, Bastard of. Also named The Great Bastard (1421–1504): 80 Burgundy, dukes of: 62, 63, 73–84, 128, 143 n. 8, 187, 199, 234 n. 35, 235 n. 39, 239, 260. See also Charles the Bold, John the Fearless, Philip the Bold, Philip the Fair, Philip the Good Burgundy, duchess of. See Margaret of Bavaria Burgundy, Mary, duchess of (1457–1482): 74, 77 Byzantium: 48 Caesar. See Julius Caesar Calvete de Estrella, Juan Cristóbal (c. 1520–1593): 226 n. 11 Calvinist princes: 318 n. 19 Calvin, Jean (1509–1564): 319 Cambrai, bishop of. See Croÿ, Jacques de Campione, Bonino da (1325–1397): 26 Campione, Giacomo da († 1398): 134 Canterbury Cathedral: 92, 98 n. 18, 101 Cárdenas, Fray Miguel de: 303 Carloix, Vincent (1535–1571): 196 n. 43, 197 n. 46 Caron, Antoine (1520–1599): 170 n. 77, 173 n. 90, 174 n. 93, 176 n. 98, 178 n. 100 Carpi, Girolamo da (1501–1556): 278 Carranza y Miranda Bartolomé, archbishop (1503–1573): 223 n. 1 Carrara Francesco I da, signore of Padua. Also named il Vecchio (1325–1393): 125 n. 1 Casteletto, Pietro da: 124 Castile: 80 Catanei, Raphael of: 149 Cateau-Cambrésis, Treaty of (1559): 213 Catherine de France, queen of England. Also named Katherine of Valois (1401–1437): 96

Catherine de Médicis, queen of France (1519–1589): 157, 167 n. 61, 170 n. 74–75, 171, 173, 174 n. 92, 175 n. 95, 197 Catherine of Austria, queen of Portugal (1507–1578): 226 n. 14 Cervantes de Salazar, Francisco (c. 1521–1575): 226 n. 7 Chabannes, Jacques de, Seigneur de La Palice (1475–1525): 218 Challant, counts of: 149 Champmol, Chartreuse de: 75, 76, 84, 128, 150, 239 Charles I of Anjou, king of Hungary. Also named Charles I Robert of Anjou (1288–1342): 115 Charles II, king of Spain (1661–1700): 289, 299, 301, 302 Charles IV the Fair, king of France (1284–1328): 66 n. 50 Charles V, Holy Roman emperor (1500–1558): 34, 35, 41, 76 n. 14, 79, 80–84, 217, 223, 225, 226 n. 14, 231, 232 n. 28, 30, 233, 234, 235–36, 237, 238–39, 289 Charles V, king of France (1338–1380): 24, 39, 65 n. 48–49, 66 n. 50, 126, 130, 203 n. 62 Charles VI, king of France (1368–1422): 23, 39, 57–63, 64 n. 38, 66, 75 n. 9, 163 n. 34, 210 Charles VII, king of France (1403–1461): 58, 61, 64, 67, 69 n. 62, 193 n. 30, 196 n. 42 Charles VIII, king of France (1470–1498): 40, 64, 65 n. 45, 67, 69–70, 136, 164–65, 186, 188–89, 193–94 Charles IX, king of France (1550–1574): 195 n. 40, 197, 203 Charles X Gustavus of Sweden, king of Sweden (1622–1660): ­336 Charlemagne/Carolus Magnus, Holy Roman emperor (c. 742–814): 314

index

Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy. Also named Charles de Charolais, Charles Le Téméraire (1433–1477): 25, 62 n. 14, 73, 74, 76, 77 n. 18, 79, 81, 82, 84, 150 Charles de France, duc d’Orléans (1522–1545): 195, 196 Charles Le Téméraire. See Charles the Bold Charlotte Amalie of Hesse-Kassel, queen of Denmark and Norway (1650–1714): 327, 330 Charlotte de Savoie, queen of France (c. 1441–1483): 57, 66, 67, 187 n. 3 Charolais, Charles de. See Charles the Bold Chartier, Jean (c. 1385/1390–1464): 23, 61, 188 Chasseneux, Barthélemy de (1480–1541): 159, 161 n. 24, 162, 163 n. 34, 164 n. 43, 45, 165 n. 52, 166 n. 58, 169, 170 n. 74 Chastellain, George (1405/1415–1475): 74 n. 6, 76 n. 17, 79 n. 21 Châtelliers (les), Abbey: 66 Chertsey Abbey: 101–02 Choque, Pierre (c. 1450–1530): 161, 162 n. 30, 189 n. 17, 19, 192–93 Christian IV, king of Denmark and Norway (1577–1648): 327, 330–31, 333–34, 337 Christian V, king of Denmark and Nor­ way (1646–1699): 327, 330, 334, 335 Christian, Crown prince of Denmark and Norway (1671–1730): 334, 335 Christian, prince of Denmark and Norway (1675–1695): 335 Christine of Denmark, duchess of Lorraine, regent (1521–1590): 84 Cicero: 158 n. 2, 159, 164 n. 49, 168 n. 65 Clamorinus, Bartholomäus: 314 n. 9 Clarence. See Lancaster Claude de France, queen of France (1499–1524): 161 n. 29, 30, 193–94 Clement IV, pope († 1268): 51

Clement V, pope (c. 1264–1314): 48, 52 Clement VI, pope (1291–1352): 48 Clement VII, pope (1478–1534): 228 Clement of Alexandria (c. 150–c. 215): 159 Cléry, Notre-Dame Collegiate Church: 65–67, 186 n. 7, 187 n. 8 Clèves, François de, duke of Nevers (1516–1562): 202–03 Clèves Marie de, duchess of Orléans (1426–1487): 64, 67 Cleves-Jülich. See Jülich-Clèves Clough, Richard (c. 1530–1570): 232 n. 29, 238 n. 42 Cock, Hieronymus (c. 1518–1570): 232 Colonna, Francesco (1433–1527): 159, 160 n. 17, 167 Colonna, Jerónimo, cardinal († 1666): 303 Compiègne, church Saint-Corneille: 197 Condé, prince de. See Bourbon-Condé, Henri II de, Bourbon-Condé, Louis de Constantinople: 62, 226 n. 14 Conzié, François (c. 1356–c. 1432): 51, 53, 54 Copenhagen: 327–40 Castle church: 331, 332 Cathedral of Our Lady: 334 Sophie Amalienborg: 38, 327, 331, 336 Copparo: 278 Corio, Bernardino (1459–1519): 123, 126, 130–32 Coriolanus, Story of, Tapestry: 253 Corner II, Giovanni, doge (1647–1722): 215–16 Corral, Fray Hernando del: 223–24, 238 Cranach, Lucas (1472–1553): 315 Cravant: 84 Croisic, Le. Also named Le Troysic: 193 Croÿ, Jacques de, bishop of Cambrai (1503–1516): 79 Croÿ, Philip III de, duke of Aerschot (1526–1595): 236 Czech kingdom. See Bohemia, Kingdom of

3 49

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Dell’ Abate, Nicolò (1509/1512–1571): 170 De’ Medici. See Catherine de Médicis, Marie de Médicis Desgranges, Michel Ancel, Master of Ceremonies of France: 252 n. 12, 253 n. 17, 254, 255 n. 27, 256–57, 259, 261, 262 n. 53, 54, 263, 265 Des Ursins/Orsini, Marie-Félicie, duchesse de Montmorency (1600–1666): 172 n. 83 Dianti, Laura († 1573): 273 Dinet, Jacques (1584–1653): 250, 251 Dio Cassius (c. 155– c. 235): 50 Diodorus of Sicily (c. 90 bc–c. 30 bc): 159 Donà, Leonardo, doge (1536–1612): 214–15 Dover: 98 Dresden: 315 n. 10, 320, 321 Sophienkirche: 14, 331 Du Bellay, Guillaume, seigneur de Langey (1491–1543): 167 n. 64 Dubois, Marie: 250 Du Boullay, Emond (c. 1510–1576): 41, 197, 199, 203 Du Chastel, Pierre (1480–1552): 196 Du Clercq, Jacques (c. 1424–1468): 75 n. 13, 76 n. 15, 17, 79 n. 21, 82 n. 23 Du Choul, Guillaume (c. 1496–1560): 158 n. 6, 7, 160, 166 n. 56, 168, 173–74, 177 n. 99 Duetecom, Johannes (1551–1605) and Lucas (1554– 1572): 232 Dufour, Antoine, bishop of Marseille, confessor of Louis XII and Anne de Bretagne († 1508): 158 n. 3 Du Guesclin, Bertrand (c. 1320–1380): 321 Dunois. See Orléans-Longueville, Jean Du Perier, Jean: 81, 82 Du Tillet, Jean († 1570): 40, 164, 165–66 Ebrach, Cistercian convent: 111–12, 113 Edmund the Martyr, Saint († 869): 96 Edward I, king of England (1239–1307): 92, 93, 146 Edward II, king of England (1284–1327): 39, 59, 89, 210

Edward III, king of England (1312–1377): 89, 90, 98 Edward IV, king of England (1442– 1483): 90 n. 3, 93, 95, 96, 98, 100–03 Edward V, king of England (1470–1483): 91, 103 Edward the Confessor, Saint (c. 1004–1066): 92, 96, 100 Egmont, Lamoral count of (1522–1568): 236 Egnazio, Gian Battista (c. 1497–1553): 159 Egyptians: 168 n. 65, 170, 175 n. 97 Eleanor of Austria, queen of Portugal and France (1498–1558): 239 Eleonora d’Aragona, duchess of Ferrara (1450–1593): 212 Eleonora of Austria, duchess of Mantua (1534–1594): 217 Elisabeth de France or de Bourbon. See Isabel de Bourbon  Elisabeth de France or de Valois. See Isabelle de France Elizabeth I, queen of England (1533–1603): 211 n. 5, 226 n. 14 England, kingdom: 58, 70, 89, 90, 95, 96 n. 17, 101, 115, 145, 146, 147, 209, 210, 226 n. 11, 321 England, kings: 3, 9, 89–103 Epernon. See Nogaret de la Vallette Equicola di Alveto, Mario (c. 1470–c. 1525): 212 Ermolao Barbaro (1454–1493): 163 n. 38 Ertmann, Hans: 333 Ertmann, Hermann (1654–?): 330 Eschwege, Palace: 307, 313, 314 Escorial, Monastery of San Lorenzo: 41, 42, 239, 252, 289, 290 n. 9, 291, 292, 294, 295–96, 297, 298, 301 Royal Pantheon: 287, 291, 297 Decaying Chambers: 298 Escouchy, Mathieu d’ (c. 1420–c. 1482): 64 n. 41–43 Este, Alfonso I, duke of Ferrara (1476–1534): 32, 33, 213, 273, 278 n. 11

index

Este, Alfonso II, duke of Ferrara (1533–1597): 213, 273, 275 Este, Alfonso III, duke of Ferrara (1591–1644): 275 Este, Alfonso IV, duke of Modena, 13.2and Reggio (1634–1662): 273, 279, 280–81, 282 Este, Beatrice, duchess of Milan (1475–1497): 135, 136 Este, Beatrice, abbess (c. 1085–1108): 281 Este, Cesare, duke of Modena and Reggio (1562–1628): 273, 275 Este, dukes of. See Modena and Reggio, dukes of Este, Ercole I, duke of Ferrara (1431–1505): 211 Este, Ercole II, duke of Ferrara (1508–1559): 212–14, 217, 218, 275 Este, Francesco I, duke of Modena and Reggio (1610–1658): 273, 274, 275, 277, 278–80 Este, Francesco II, duke of Modena and Reggio (1660–1694): 283 Este, Ippolito I, cardinal (1479–1520): 212 Este, Rinaldo I, duke of Modena and Reggio (1655–1737): 283 Ethiopians: 161, 169 n. 72 Evreux, Jeanne d’. See Jeanne d’Evreux Fanshawe, Lady Ann (1625–1680): 294 Fauquembergue, Clément de (active 1417–1435): 58 Faustini, Agostino: 211 Felix V, pope. See Savoy, Amadeus VIII of Ferdinand I, Holy Roman emperor (1503–1564): 41, 217, 229 Ferdinand III, Holy Roman emperor (1608–1657): 339 Ferdinand of Aragon, king of Aragon (1452–1516): 136, 227, 235, 236 Ferdinand of Habsburg, Infant of Spain (1530–1530): 239 Ferrara: 40, 41, 43, 211–18, 227, 273–76, 278–80, 283 Castle: 278

Ferrara, dukes: 43, 194 Flanders: 70, 78, 80, 115, 145, 146, 236 Flèche, La, Jesuits College: 257 Florence: 110, 214, 216–17, 227 n. 16, 261, 321 n. 26 Baptistery: 110 Church of Santissima Annunziata: 216 Church of San Lorenzo: 216 Foix, Gaston de (1489–1512): 193, 218 Foix-Béarn, principality: 70, 143 n. 8 Fontana, Francesco: 274, 277 Fontevrault, Abbey: 12 Foresti, Giacomo Filippo. Also named Giacomo da Bergamo (1434–1520): 158 n. 2 Fotheringhay: 93, 102 Fouquet, Jean (c. 1520–c. 1478–1481): 63, 68 n. 54 Francis of Paola, Saint (1416–1507): 159 n. 9 François 1er, king of France (1494–1547): 161 n. 24, 29, 165 n. 54, 171 n. 80, 186–87, 192 n. 22, 194–97, 199, 203, 210–11 François II, king of France (1544–1560): 171 François, dauphin de France (1518–1536): 195 François d’Orléans, painter: 59 Frankenland, Saints Apostles of: 110 Frederick III, Holy Roman emperor (1415–1493): 80 Frederick the Wise. See Saxony, Frederick III Frederik II, king of Denmark and Norway (1559–1588): 330 Frederik III, king of Denmark and Norway (1609–1670): 38, 327, 329, 331, 332, 333 n. 34, 336, 337, 338 Frederik, Crown prince of Denmark and Norway (1671–1730): 335 Fugger, Hans Jakob, merchant of Augsburg (1516–1575): 109 Funen: 334

3 51

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Gaguin, Robert (c. 1433–1501): 194, 33 Gaignières, François Roger de (1642–1715): 171 n. 80 Gamberti, Domenico (1627–1700): 274, 277, 278 n. 17, 279, 281, 282 n. 28, 283 Gaston de France, duke of Orléans. Also named Gaston d’Orléans (1608–1660): 251, 259 Gauls: 161, 163 Gaztelu, Martin de (c. 1435–c. 1498): 223 Geneva: 141–42 Convent of Minor Friars: 141 Chapel of Our Lady of Bethlehem: 141, 144 Genoa: 227 n. 16 George, Saint: 135 George/Jørgen of Denmark and Norway, consort of queen Anne of England: 330 German principalities: 107, 110, 114 Germany, kings of. Also named kings of the Romans, 112, 115 Giacomo da Bergamo. See Foresti, Giacomo Filippo Giambologna (1529–1608): 216 Giraldi, Lilio Gregorio (1479–1552): 159, 161–62, 164–65, 167, 169–71 Girard, Antoine: 250, 253 Giulio Romano (c. 1492/ 1499–1546): 170 n. 77 Gloucester, duke of. See Lancaster, Humphrey of Godefroy, Théodore (1580–1649) and Denis (1615–1681): 190 n. 41, 197 n. 44, 204 n. 66 Gómez de Silva, Ruy, count of Mélito (1516–1573): 236 Gonzaga Ambassadors: 132 Gonzaga, Dynasty: 217 Gonzaga, Francesco II, duke of Mantua (1466–1519): 217 Gonzaga, Guglielmo, duke of Mantua (1538–1587): 217 Grailly, Archambaud of (c. 1330–1412): 70 Grailly, Jean I of (1330–1376): 70

Granada: 76 n. 14, 80, 83 Royal Chapel: 239 Grande Mademoiselle, La. See Orléans, Anne-Marie-Louise d’ Grandson, Othon I of (c. 1238–1328): 146 Granvelle. See Perrenot of Granvelle Grassi, Paride de (1470–1528): 52 Greeks: 160 n. 23, 161, 164 n. 46 Gregory I, the Great (c. 540–604), pope: 13 Gregory VII, pope (c. 1015/1020–1085): 49 Gregory X, pope (c. 1210–1276): 48 Gregory XI, pope (1329/1331–1378): 48 Gresham, Thomas (c. 1519–1579): 232 n. 29, 238 n. 42 Grudé, François, sieur de La Croix du Maine (1552–1592): 172 Guevara, Antonio de (1480–1545): 160, 173 Guichard, Claude (1545–1607): 158 n. 5, 159 n. 10, 160, 161 n. 14, 18, 162, 163 n. 34, 38, 164, 165 n. 55, 167 n. 63, 168 n. 67, 169, 170 n. 74 Guise, Claude de Lorraine, duke of (1496–1550): 203 n. 57 Guise, dukes of: 41, 163 n. 39, 175, 203 Guise, François de Lorraine, duke of (1519–1563): 171 n. 82, 192 n. 24, 197, 199 Guyon, Louis (c. 1527–1617): 204 Gyldenløve, Ulrik Frederik (1638–1704): 335, 337 Habsburg Dynasty. Also named Austria, House of: 109, 118, 132, 232 n. 29, 235 n. 38–39, 287–88, 293 n. 14, 295, 296, 298, 303 n. 14, 330 n. 20 Hadrian, Roman emperor (76–138): 163 n. 34, 175 Hainaut: 79 n. 23, 80, 234 Halicarnassus, Mausoleum: 158 Halle: 74, 75 Hanau-Münzenberg, count Philipp of (1449–1500): 114 Hanoüars: 61, 165, 187, 189

index

Harlint, Christophe de, goldsmith (active c. 1422): 60 Hautecombe Abbey: 133, 150, 217 Heilsbronn Abbey: 118 Hénin, Jean V of, First count of Boussu (1480–1562): 236 Henneberg, William IV, count of (1478–1559): 107, 108 n. 3, 113 Henri II, king of France (1519–1559): 157, 170 n. 75, 171, 172, 177, 179, 195 n. 40, 210, 250 Henri III, king of France (1551–1589): 170 n. 75, 171, 197, 250 Henri IV, king of France (1553–1610): 197, 198, 204, 210 n. 2, 249–51, 254–55, 257, 259, 260 n. 41, 261, 263, 267 Henry II, king of Castile (1334–1379): 298 Henry III, king of England (1207–1272): 95, 98 n. 18 Henry IV, king of England (1367–1413): 98 n. 18, 100–01 Henry V, king of England (1386–1422): 58, 84, 95–96, 98–100, 103 Henry VI, king of England (1421–1461): 58, 63, 91, 98, 101–03 Henry VII, Holy Roman emperor. Also named Henry VII of Luxembourg (c. 1278–1313): 115 Henry VII, king of England (1457–1509): 91, 95 n. 11, 96, 98–99, 102–03 Herodian (c. 170–c. 240): 40, 157–60, 163, 165 n. 56, 167–70, 173, 177–79 Herodotus (c. 480 bc–c. 425 bc): 158 n. 2, 159, 161, 167, 169 n. 72 Hesse-Darmstadt, George II, Landgrave of (1605–1661): 311 Hesse-Darmstadt, Louis V, Land­grave of (1577–1626): 310–11 Hesse-Kassel, Adolph (1631–1632): 319 Hesse-Kassel, Maurice, Landgrave of. Also named Maurice the Learned/ Moritz der Gelehrte (1572–1632): 307–12, 308, 309, 311, 313, 314, 316, 317–23

Hesse-Kassel, Principality: 42 Hesse-Kassel, Wilhelm V, Landgraf of (1602–1637): 311 Hesse-Marburg, Louis IV, Landgrave of (1537–1604): 310 Hesse, Philip I, Langrave of. Also named Philip the Magnan­i­mous (1504–1567): 310, 323 Hesse-Rheinfels, Dynasty: 310 Hogenberg, Franz (1535–1590): 231 Horozco, Sebastián de (1510–1579): 226 n. 15 Houël, Nicolas (c. 1524–1587): 28, 160, 170 n. 74, 171 n. 77, 81, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 179 Hungary, king of. See Charles I of Anjou Indians: 161 Innocent III, pope (1160–1216): 47, 51 Innocent IV, pope (c. 1180/1190–1254): 48, 52 Innocent VI, pope (1282–1362): 48 Innsbruck: 108 n. 5, 116 Church of St. Jacob: 116 Isabeau of Bavaria, queen of France (c. 1370–1435): 24, 40, 57, 58, 66 Isabella of Castile, duchess of York (1355–1392): 100 Isabel of Portugal, duchess of Burgundy (1397–1471): 73 n. 2 Isabella of Portugal, Holy Roman empress (1503–1539): 239 Isabel de Bourbon, queen of Spain. Also named Elisabeth de France (1602–1644): 294, 300 Isabelle de France, sister of king Charles V, duchess of Milan (1348–1372): 133 Isabelle de France. Also named Elisabeth de Valois, queen of Spain (1545–1568): 292, 299 Isidore of Sevilla (c. 560/570–636): 170 Islip, John, Abbot of Westminster (1464–1532): 97

3 53

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Jäger, Clemens (c. 1500–1561): 109 James I of Scotland, king of Scotland (1394–1437): 96 Jeanne de Bourbon, queen of France (1338–1378): 24, 39, 65, 66 n. 30 Jeanne d’Evreux, queen of France (1310–1371): 66 n. 50 Jeanne de France (1464–1505): 67 Jerónimo of Austria. See Juan of Austria Joana of Castile, queen of Castile (1479–1555): 226 n. 11 John II of Aragon, king of Aragon and Navarre (1398–1479): 227 John III of Portugal, king of Portugal (1521–1557): 226 n. 14 John XXII, pope (1244–1334): 48 John of Habsburg, Infant of Spain (1538–1538): 239 John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy (1371–1419): 73, 84 Jørgen of Denmark. See George Joyeuse, Anne, duke of (1560/1561–1587): 204 n. 66 Juan of Austria. Also named Jerónimo (1545/1547–1578): 223 n. 2 Jülich-Cleves-Berg, William, duke of (1516–1592): 322 Julius II, pope (1443–1503): 52 Julius Caesar (100 bc–44 bc): 163, 226 n. 9 Jutland: 334 Kassel: 307 n. 4, 310, 313 Château: 313, 314, 319, 323 Church of Saint-Martin: 323 Mausoleum: 314, 323 Katherine of Valois. See Catherine de France Khevenhüller, Friedrich Christoph von (1588–1650): 339 Kilian, Saint: 110 king’s Langley, Dominican priory: 100 Kolonat, Saint: 110 La Croix du Maine. See Grudé, François 

Lactantius (c. 250–c. 325): 159 La Marche, Olivier de (1426–1502): 75 n. 13 La Marck, Érard de, bishop-prince of Liège (1472–1538): 224 n. 2 Lambelet, Jacques: 149 Lamoral, count of Egmont. See Egmont, Lamoral, count of Lancaster, Humphrey of, duke of Gloucester (1390–1447): 84, 96 n. 17 Lancaster, Thomas of, duke of Clarence (1387–1421): 84, 98 n. 18, 101 n. 34 Langey, Guillaume de. See Du Bellay, Guillaume, seigneur de Langey Lannoy, Jean of, Seigneur de Molembaix (c. 1509–1560): 236 La Noue, François de (1531–1591): 204 La Palice. See Chabannes La Porte, Antoine de: 158 n. 5 La Rochetaillée, Jean de, bishop of Paris and Patriarch of Constantinople († 1437): 62 La Roe, abbé de. See Leclerc, Guy La Ruyelle, Jeannet de († c. 1521): 77 n. 19 La Trémoille, princes of: 203 La Trémoille. See Laval, Anne de Laurencin, François, prior of SaintIrénée: 158 n. 5 Laval, Anne de, princesse de La Trémoille (1505–1554): 203 Lazius, Wolfgang (1514–1565): 159, 162–65, 167 Le Barre, Pasquier de (c. 1520–1568): 232 n. 29 Leclerc, Guy, abbé de La Roe († 1523): 192 Le Clerc, Jean, Chancellor of France († c. 1424): 58 Lefèvre de Saint-Remy, Jean (c. 1395–1468): 74 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm von (1646–1716): 283 Leicester: 103 Cathedral: 103 Grey Friar’s Church: 102

index

Lemaire de Belges, Jean (1473–1524): 27, 40, 65 n. 46, 80 n. 14, 83 n. 26, 157 n. 1, 159 n. 10, 160–61, 162 n. 30, 167, 186 n. 5, 192, 210 n. 1 Leo X, pope (1475–1521): 158, 159 n. 9, 163 n. 37 Léon: 80 Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519): 136 Leonora Christine of Denmark, countess Ulfeldt (1621–1698): 327–28 Léry, Jean de (1536–1613): 161 n. 28 Lignago. See Paolo da Lignago Ligne, Jean of, count of Arenberg (1525–1568): 236 Ligorio, Pirro (c. 1513–1583): 166 n. 56, 167, 278 Lille, collegiate church of Saint-Pierre: 70 Lima: 225 Linz: 108, 339 Lisbon: 226 n. 14 Livy. See Titus Livius Lodovico il Moro. See Sforza, Lodovico il Moro Lolland-Falster: 334 London: 98–102 Blackheath: 98 London Bridge: 98 St Paul’s Cathedral: 98, 100, 101 Tower of London: 101 Westminster Abbey: 90, 91, 93, 94, 96, 97, 98–102 Henry VII Chapel: 102 Shrine chapel of St Edward the Confessor: 92, 96 Longueville. See Orléans-Longueville López de Gómara, Francisco (1510/1511–1566): 76 n. 14 Loredan, Francesco, doge (1685–1762): 214, 215 Lorraine, Charles III duke of (1543–1608): 200, 201, 202, 203–04 Lorraine, Claude de. See Guise Lorraine, dukes of: 41, 199, 307 Lorraine, François de. See Guise

Lorraine, regent of. See Christine of Denmark Lorraine, René I. See René I d’Anjou, king of Naples, duke of Lorraine Lorraine, René II, duke of (1451–1508): 74, 77, 199 Louis, Saint, king of France (1214–1270): 203, 257, 260 Louis II of Orléans. See Louis XII Louis XI, king of France (1423–1483): 64, 65, 74 n. 8, 90 n. 3, 141, 149 n. 47, 250 n. 6 Louis XII, duke of Orléans, king of France (1452–1515): 41, 158 n. 3, 161 n. 29, 30, 189, 193–94, 196 n. 31, 199, 210–11, 213, 218 Louis XIII, king of France (1601–1643): 43–44, 204, 249–69 Louis XIV, king of France (1636–1715): 45–46, 223 n. 1, 249–57, 258, 259–61, 262, 263–69, 278, 339 Louis XV, king of France (1710–1774): 255–56, 263 Louis XVIII, king of France (1755–1824): 250 n. 6 Louis de France, duke of Touraine, then duke of Orléans. Also named Louis de Touraine, Louis Ier d’Orléans (1372–1407): 128, 203 n. 62 Louis de France, fils aîné de Louis XIV. Also named Le Grand Dauphin (1661–1711): 251 Louise de Savoie, regent of France (1476–1531): 161 n. 30, 195 Louvel, Pierre, abbot of Saint-Magloire: 62 n. 25 Low countries, the: 41, 160, 165 n. 38, 228 n. 11, 236 Lucca: 227 Luciani, Antonio, maker of death masks: 215 Lutheran princes: 318–20, 323 Luther, Martin: 315–19, 323, 330 Luxembourg: 234

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Luxembourg, Henry VII of. See Henry VII, Holy Roman emperor Luxembourg, Sigismund. See Sigismund, Holy Roman emperor Lyon: 141, 163 n. 37, 194, 262 Church of the Celestines: 142 Lyon, Council of: 48 Madrid: 42, 226, 291–95, 299 Alcazar Palace: 287, 289–99, 301 Chapel: 292 Cierzo Gallery: 293 Great Salon, also called Gilded Room: 36, 42, 292 king’s Chamber: 289 king’s Study: 290 Church of the Discalced Carmelites: 293, 299 Church of the Royal convent of St Dominic: 299 Church of the Royal convent of St Jerome: 300–01 Churches: 289 Convent of St Francis: 299 Convent of San Gil: 290 Plaza Mayor: 299 Plazuela de la Villa: 299 Segovia Bridge: 295 Maffei, Raffaele/Volaterranus (1451–1522): 158 n. 7 Main, river: 110 Maine, duke of. See Bourbon, LouisAuguste de Maintenon, Madame de. See Versailles Male, Louis of, count of Flanders (1346–1384): 70 Malines. See Mechelen Malpica, Marquis of: 301 Mameranus/de Mamer, Nicolas (1500–1567): 232 n. 29 Mantua, Mantova: 217, 227 Mantua, Ambassadors: 187 n. 12, 196 n. 43 Mantua, dukes of: 41 Mantua, Marquis of: 149

Manuel I of Portugal, king of Portugal (1469–1521): 239 Marburg: 310 University: 310 Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor (121–180): 158 n. 6, 235 Margaret of Austria, duchess of Saxony (c. 1416–1486): 113 Margaret of Bavaria, duchess of Burgundy (1363–1424): 84 Margaret of Parma/Margherita d’Austria, duchess of Parma and Piacenza (1522–1586): 232 Margarita de Austria, queen of Spain (1584–1611): 261 n. 48, 292 Marguerite d’Autriche, duchess of Savoy, regent of the Low countries (1480–1530): 79–80, 148 n. 44, 150 n. 53, 160–61, 233 Marguerite de France, queen of Navarre and France. Also named Marguerite de Valois (1553–1615): 204 Maria Anna of Spain, Holy Roman empress (1606–1646): 339 Mariana of Austria, queen of Spain (1634–1696): 288, 289, 301 n. 31 Marie d’Anjou, queen of France (1404–1463): 66 n. 53 Marie de Médicis, queen and queen regent of France (1575–1642): 197, 199 Marie-Anne d’Autriche. See Mariana of Austria  Marie-Louise d’Orléans, queen of Spain (1662–1689): 36, 291 n. 10 Marie-Thérèse d’Autriche, queen of France (1638–1683): 251, 259–61, 265, 339 Marot, Jean (c. 1450–c. 1526): 175 n. 95 Martial (c. 40–c. 104): 159 Martial d’Auvergne (c. 1420–1508): 24, 61, 69 Martial de Paris: 61 n. 21 Martin, Jean (c. 1507–1553): 158 n. 4, 160 n. 17, 175 n. 94 Martínez, Fray Juan: 288

index

Martinozzi, Laura duchess of Modena and Reggio (1639–1687): 280, 283 Mary I. Also named Mary Tudor, queen of England (1516–1558): 233, 236 n. 40 Mary II, queen of England (1662–1694): 339 Mathys, Henri: 223 n. 1 Matthieu, Pierre (1563–1621): 197 n. 49 Maubuisson, Abbey of: 130 Maurice, Saint: 145, 148, 230 Mausolos, king of Caria: 40, 158 n. 2, 5, 170 n. 74, 178 n. 100, 179 Maximilian I, Archduke of Austria, Holy Roman emperor (1459–1519): 116, 119, 160 Mazarin, Jules, cardinal (1602–1661): 266 Mazerolles, Philippe de, painter (1410/1430–1479): 23, 61, 62 Mechelen: 79, 83, 161, 233 Collegiate Church of Saint Rumbold: 79–80 Medici. See Catherine de Médicis, Marie de Médicis Medici, Cosimo de’ (1389–1464): 133 Medici, Cosimo I de’, duke of Tuscany (1519–1574): 213, 216–17 Medici, Francesco I de’, duke of Tuscany (1541–1587): 216 Medici, Lucrezia de’, duchess of Ferrara (1545–1561): 216 Medici, Virginia de’ (1568–1615): 275 Mehun-sur-Yèvre: 64 Melanchthon, Philip (1497–1560): 316 Melegnano, Ducal Castle: 123 Méliador. Also named Mercadez, first stable squire of Philip the Fair: 78, 81 Méndez de Quijada, Luis († 1570): 223 n. 1 Ménestrier, Claude-François (1631–1705): 261, 269, 278 n. 13 Merian, Mattheus the Elder (1593–1650): 308–09, 305, 311, 313 Merida: 239 Metz, Tomb of the archbishop of Trier: 112

Meuse, river: 41, 199 Mexico: 41, 226 Milan, Milano: 123–36 Castle of Porta Giovia (Ducal Castle): 123, 136 Ducal Apartment: 132 Castello Sforzesco: 126 n. 14 Cathedral: 123, 125–26, 128, 130–32, 227 n. 18 Church of San Giovanni in Conca: 126 Church of San Gottardo in Corte: 126, 127, 131 Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie: 135, 136 Church of Sant’Ambrosio: 132 Church of Santo Stefano: 132 Milan, Ambassadors: 144 Milan, dukes of: 123, 130 Minerbetti, Bernardetto († 1574): 232 n. 29 Mocenigo, Alvise III, doge (1662–1732): 215 Mocenigo, Alvise IV, doge (1701–1778): 215 Mocenigo, Giovanni, doge (1409–1485): 214 Modena: 273–83 Cathedral: 275 Church of Sant’Agostino: 43, 274, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281 Pantheon Atestinum: 43, 278, 280–83 Church of San Vincenzo, Funerary Chapel: 276, 281 Modena, Ambassadors: 132 n. 32 Modena, Tommaso da. See Tommaso da Modena Modena and Reggio, dukes of. Also named dukes d’Este: 45, 273 Molinet, Jean (1435–1507): 74 n. 8, 77 n. 19 Monforte, Rodríguez de. See Rodriguez de Monforte, Pedro Monsieur. See Philippe of France, duke of Orléans

3 57

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Monstrelet, Enguerrand de (c. 1400– 1453): 58 n. 5, 59 n. 9, 12, 60 n. 14, 16, 74 n. 6, 75 n. 9, 12, 95 n. 13, 96 n. 15 Montauban, Philip of, chancellor of Brittany (c. 1445–1514): 68 Montealegre, Marquis of: 293 Montecchio, Marquesses of: 273 Montereau Bridge of: 73 Collegiate Church: 74, 84 Montferrat, Blanche of, duchess of Savoy (1472–1519): 148 Montferrat, Marquis de: 144 Montlhéry: 192 Montmorency, Anne de (1493–1567): 171, 203 Montmorency, duchesse de. See Des Ursins/Orsini, Marie-Félicie Montmorency, Henri II de (1595–1632): 172 n. 83 Montoya, Joan De: 227 n. 20 Montpensier, duchess of. See Bourbon, Marie de, Orléans, Anne-MarieLouise d’ Monza, Prisons of the Forni: 129 Moulins, Chapel of the Visitation: 172 n. 83 Nancy: 25, 73–74, 81–82, 84 n. 27, 199 Collegiate Church of Saint-Georges: 74 Nantes Cathedral: 189 Carmelite church: 68 Naples: 226–27, 275 Nevers: 200 Nevers, duchess of. See Albret, Marie d’ Nevers duke of. See Clèves, François de New World: 161 Nivelles, Jean de, Bishop, confessor of Philip the Fair: 83 Noailles, Louis-Antoine de, cardinal, archbishop of Paris (1651–1729): 257 Nogaret de La Vallette, Jean-Louis de, duc d’Épernon (1554–1642): 171 n. 80

Novara, Castle: 135 Numa Pompilius, Roman king (753 bc–673 bc): 165 Nuremberg, burgraviate of: 118 Nykøbing Falster: 333–34 Ognibene dei Bonisoli (1412–1474): 157 n. 1 Orange-Nassau, Guillaume I, prince of Orange. Also named William the Taciturn (1533–1584): 238, 291 n. 10 Orgemont, Pierre d’, chancellor of France (c. 1315–1389): 65 Orléans, Anne-Marie-Louise d’, duchess of Montpensier. Also named la Grande Mademoiselle (1627–1693): 204 Orléans, Blanche, duchesse de. See Blanche de France Orléans, François. See François d’Orléans, painter Orléans, Gaston. See Gaston d’Orléans Orléans, Louis I. See Louis de France Orléans, Louis II. See Louis XII, king of France Orléans, Marie Louise of. See MarieLouise d’Orléans, queen of Spain Orléans, Philippe, duc d’Orléans, regent de France. Also named Le Régent (1674–1723): 43, 255, 263, 268 Orléans-Longueville, Dynasty: 187 n. 8, 203–04 Orléans-Longueville, François II, duke of Longueville (1478–1513): 189 n. 16 Orléans-Longueville, Jean, count of Dunois and Longueville (1403–1468): 203 n. 62 Orléans-Longueville, Léonor, duke of Longueville (1540–1573): 203 Orléans-Longueville, Louis I, duke of Longueville (1480–1516): 189 n. 16 Ornedal, Jerónimo de: 293 n. 15 Orsini, Fulvio (1529–1600): 158, 166 n. 56, 168 n. 66, 177 n. 98 Orthez: 70

index

Otto I, Holy Roman emperor (912–973): 112 Oudergherst, Pierre: 76 n. 13 Ovid: 159 Padilla, Lorenzo de: 78 n. 20 Palatinate of the Rhine . Philip I (1489–1541): 108 n. 4 Paleotti, Gabriele, cardinal (1522–1597): 212 Palladio, Andrea (1508–1580): 281 Paolo da Lignago: 212 Papal States: 273 Paris Cathedral Notre-Dame: 43, 60–63, 66–67, 95, 165 n. 53, 170 n. 76, 187, 196, 199, 226 n. 14, 256–57, 259, 261 n. 47, 266, 268, 275 n. 2 Pieta: 256 Church of Notre-Dame-des-Champs: 187, 194 n. 36, 196 Church of the Celestines: 171 n. 80, 82 Church Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis du Marais: 257 Château du Louvre: 199, 255, 259, 267–68 City of: 43, 61, 260, 263, 268 Episcopal Palace: 266 Jesuits College: 267 Hôtel Saint-Pol: 58–60, 61 n. 22, 64, 66 Place des Victoires: 251 Sainte-Chapelle: 60, 261 n. 47, 266 Paris, Martial de. See Martial de Paris Parvy, Guillaume (c. 1470–1518): 193 Paschal II, pope (c. 1050–1118): 47 Pasqualini, Caesar: 275 n. 3 Pasquier, Etienne (1529–1615): 204 Pauwels, Thierry: 76 n. 13, 15 Pavia: 125–26, 128, 132–33, 135 Basilica San Pietro in Ciel d’Oro: 123, 126 Certosa di Pavia: 129–30, 135 Church San Michele: 130 Drapers’ Quarter: 128 Park: 126

Piazza Grande: 128 Strada Nuova: 128 Visconti Castle: 126 Peñaranda, count of: 301 Pescara y Vasto, Marquès de. See Ávalos, Alfonso de Perrault, Claude (1613–1688): 158 n. 4 Perréal, Jean (c. 1455/1460–c. 1528): 161 Perrenot of Granvelle, Antoine (1517–1586): 233 Pertinax, Roman emperor (126–193): 50 Perugia, Cathedral: 47, 51 Petrarch/Francesco Petrarca (1304–1374): 119 Philibert the Handsome. See Savoy, Philibert II Philip I of Castile, duke of Burgundy, king of Castile. Also named Philip the Fair (1478–1506): 73, 75, 77, 78–80, 82–83, 233, 236 Philip I of the Palatinate. See Pala­tinate of the Rhine, Philip Philip II, king of Spain (1556–1598): 41, 42–43, 225, 226 n. 11, 228, 231 n. 28, 232–33, 234, 236, 238, 239, 252, 275, 289, 291–92, 294 n. 21, 296, 299–301 Philip II, duke of Burgundy. Also named Philip the Bold (1342–1404): 70, 74–76 Philip III, duke of Burgundy. Also named Philip the Good (1396–1467): 64 n. 38, 70, 73, 75–80, 82–84, 233, 236 Philip III, king of Spain (1578–1621): 290–91, 294, 297, 300 Philip IV, king of Spain (1605–1665): 36, 42, 287–89, 290, 296–97, 300, 301, 302, 303 Philip IV, king of France. Also named Philippe le Bel/Philip the Fair (1268–1314): 57–58, 73 213 n. 10 Philip of France, duke of Orléans, brother of Louis XIV. Also named Monsieur (1640–1701): 256, 261

359

360

i n dex

Philip the Bold. See Philip II, duke of Burgundy Philip the Fair. See Philip I of Castile Philip the Good. See Philip III, duke of Burgundy Philip the Magnanimous. See Hesse, Philip I, Ladgrave of Piacenza: 226–27 Ducal Palace: 227 Cathedral: 227 Piccolomini, Enea Silvio. See Pius II, pope Piedmont: 131, 133, 141, 227, 275 Pierre-Châtel, Chartreuse de: 143–44 Pignon, Laurent: 84 Pilon, Germain (c. 1528–1590): 170 n. 77, 171 n. 80 Pipino, Francesco (c. 1270–after 1528): 52 Pisa: 115 Pius II, pope/Enea Silvio Piccolomini (1405–1464): 50, 116 Pius III, pope (1439–1503): 52 Plantagenet Dynasty. See Fontevrault, Abbey of Plantagenet, Richard. See Richard of York Plantin, Christophe (1520–1589): 34, 35, 76 n. 13, 232, 234, 237, 238 n. 43 Plasencia: 225 Plato: 159, 161 Plessis-Lès-Tours: 65 Pliny: 158 n. 2, 159, 164 n. 50, 322 Plutarch: 159, 164 n. 45, 165 Poliziano, Angelo (1454–1494): 157 n. 1, 159–60, 169 Polo, Antonio: 226 n. 9 Pontefract Castle: 100 Popes: 47–49, 52, 54, 157, 166, 218, 279 Porcacchi, Tommaso (1530–1576): 165–66, 168, 178 n. 100 Porro, Girolamo (c. 1520–after 1604): 165 n. 55, 166 n. 56, 178 n. 100 Pötting, count of, Ambassador of the Holy Roman Empire: 294 Prencot, Simon, wax chandler: 98

Primaticcio, Francesco (1504–1570): 170, 171 n. 77, 80, 175 n. 95 Priuli, Antonio, doge (1548–1623): 215 Propertius (c. 50–45 bc–after 15 bc): 158 Protestant princes. See Calvinist princes, Lutheran princes Puebla, count of: 301 Pyrenees Peace (1659): 279 Rabelais, François (1483/1494–1553): 167, 168 n. 64, 172 n. 83, 193 n. 29 Rambouillet: 195 Raphael, Raffaello Sanzio (1483–1520): 195 n. 40 Ravaillac: 249 Ravenna: 193 n. 28, 218 Régent, Le. See Orléans, Philip of Regent of Lorraine. See Christine de Danemark Reggio, Reggio Emilia: 273, 278, 280. See also Modena and Reggio, dukes of Religieux de Saint-Denis, Le: 75 n. 9 René I d’Anjou, king of Naples and Sicily, duke of Anjou and Lorraine (1409–1480): 199 Renée de France, Renata de Valois, duchess of Ferrara (1510–1574): 213, 218 Rhine, river: 41. See also Palatinate of the Rhine Rhodes: 158 n. 4 Ricchieri, Ludovico/Cœlius Rhodiginus: (1469–1525): 159 Richard II, king of England (1367–1400): 20, 26, 90–91, 98, 100–01, 103 Richard III, king of England (1461–1483): 91, 95 n. 11, 96 n. 17, 98 n. 21, 102, 103 Richard of York, 3rd duke of York (1411–1460). Also named Richard Plantagenet: 93, 95, J102 Richardot, François, bishop of Arras (1507–1574): 232 n. 28, 238 Ripaille, Hermitage of: 141

index

Rodríguez de Monforte, Pedro: 288 n. 2, 5, 290, 291 n. 10, 292 n. 12, 294, 295 n. 23, 298 n. 26–27, 300, 302, 303 Roichequin: 81 Roman emperors: 40–41, 157–58, 160, 161 n. 25, 173, 178 n. 100, 228. See also Holy Roman emperors Roman pontiffs. See Popes Romans, king of the. See Germany, kings of Romeo and Juliet: 171–72 Rome: 48, 54–55, 161, 163, 164 n. 45, 167 n. 60, 169 n. 68, 178 n. 98, 226, 227 n. 16, 20, 228–29, 273, 320 Campus Martius: 168 n. 67, 175 Castel Sant’Angelo: 175 Church S. Giovanni dei Fiorentini: 175 n. 95 Church S. John of the Spaniards: 227–28 Church S. Pietro in Montorio: 175 n. 95 Church of Saint Praxedes: 54 Mausoleum of Hadrian: 175 Pantheon: 175 n. 95 St Peter’s Basilica: 53, 54  Trajan’s column : 171 Vatican Palace Antechamber: 52–53 Hall of the Pontiffs: 53 Room of the Parrots: 53 Sistine Chapel: 227 n. 16 Roskilde Cathedral: 38, 328, 333, 335, 338, 340 Royal Crypt: 328, 337 Rouen: 58, 95, 130, 194 n. 35 Roye, Jean de (c. 1425–c. 1495): 25, 65 n. 47, 77 n. 18 Rozas, Las: 295 Saavedra Fajardo, Diego de (1584–1648): 279 Sabellico, Marco Antonio (1436–1506): 159

Saint-Antoine-en-Viennois, Abbey of: 128 n. 16 Saint-Cloud: 171 n. 80, 195, 197 Saint-Denis: 39, 41, 43–44, 60–66, 75, 92, 128–30, 147, 165–66, 171 n. 80, 172 n. 85, 187–89, 194, 196–99, 211, 249–57, 258, 259–61, 262, 263, 264, 265–67 Abbey Church: 44, 92, 162, 172 n. 83, 187, 260–63, 265 Chapel of Saint John the Baptist: 63, 66 Valois Rotunda: 157, 171–72, 175 n. 95, 178–79 Bourbons’ Sepulchre: 263, 264 Croix penchée. Also named Croix pendant: 187 Saint-Germain-en-Laye: 43, 249, 251, 257, 265–66 Château-Neuf: 251 Old Château: 255 Parish Church: 255 n. 25 Saint-Irénée, prior of. See Laurencin, François Saint James of Compostela: 66, 226, 228 Saint-Mauris, Jean de († 1555): 196 n. 43 Sala, Pierre (c. 1457–c. 1529): 157 n. 1, 160 n. 23 Salamanca: 75 n. 10 Salimbene de Adam (1221–1288): 52 Saluces, Marquis de: 144 Sandoval, Prudencio de (1553–1620): 223 n. 1, 227 n. 20, 232 n. 29, 238 n. 44 San Pedro, Laurencio de: 226 n. 12 Santa Cruz, Alonso de (1505–1567): 76 n. 14 Santhià: 275 Sanudo, Marin: 215 Saragossa/Zaragoza: 226, 292 n. 13, 293–94 archbishop’s palace: 292 n. 13 Saur, Johannes (c. 1573–1636): 307 n. 4 Savoy, Amadeus VI, count of Savoy (1334–1383): 143–47, 217

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Savoy, Amadeus VII, count of Savoy (1360–1391): 142–43, 146–47 Savoy, Amadeus VIII, duke of Savoy (1383–1451): 141, 147–48 Savoy, Amadeus IX, duke of Savoy, cardinal of Saint Sabina, bishop of Geneva (1435–1472): 142–48 Savoy, Anne: 67. See also Anne of Savoy, queen of Naples Savoy, Bianca of, duchess of Milan (1337–1387): 133, 141 Savoy, Charles I, duke of Savoy (1468–1490): 148 Savoy, Charles II, duke of Savoy. Also named Charles John Amadeus (1489–1496): 148 Savoy, Charlotte. See Charlotte of Savoy Savoy, duchess of. See Anne of Cyprus, Marguerite d’Autriche, Yolande de France Savoy, dukes of: 133, 141, 146, 148–49, 150 n. 54 Savoy, Emmanuel-Philibert, duke of Savoy (1528–1580): 236 Savoy, Louis I, duke of Savoy (1413–1465): 141 Savoy, Louise. See Louise de Savoie Savoy, Philibert I, duke of Savoy (1465–1482): 142, 144, 148–49 Savoy, Philibert II, duke of Savoy. Also named Philibert the Handsome (1480–1504): 27, 150 Savoy, Philip II, duke of Savoy. Also named Philip of Bresse (1438–1497): 67, 142, 144, 148 Saxony, August, elector of (1526–1586): 320 Saxony, Christian I, elector of (1560–1591): 321 Saxony, duchess. See Margareta of Austria, duchess of Saxony Saxony, John, elector of (1468–1532): 315 Saxony, Frederick III the Wise/ Friedrichs des Weisen, elector of (1463–5 May 1525): 315

Saxony, dukes of: 113 Scales, Thomas de, 7th Lord Scales (1399–1460): 66 Scamozzi, Vincenzo (1548–1616): 175 Schilling, Diebold (1445–after 1486): 74 Schwarzburg, Gunther of, king of Germany (1304–1349): 115 Scythians: 161 Seghizzi, Andrea (1630–1684): 274, 277 Seine, river: 24, 66, 259 Seneca: 159 Septimius Severus, Roman emperor (146–211): 169 n. 68 Sessa, duke of: 227 Seville: 226, 228 Sèvres, Pont: 259 Sforza, Francesco I, duke of Milan. Also named Francesco Sforza da Cotignola (1401–1466): 131 Sforza, Francesco II, duke of Milan (1495–1535): 217 Sforza, Galeazzo Maria, duke of Milan (1444–1476): 132, 135–36, 148 Sforza, Gian Galeazzo Maria, duke of Milan (1469–1494): 132 Sforza, Ludovico Maria, duke of Milan. Also named Lodovico il Moro (1452–1508): 129, 132, 135, 136 Sforza da Cotignola. See Francesco I Sforza Sicily, king of. See René I d’Anjou Sigismund of Austria. See Sigismund of Tirol Sigismund of Luxembourg, Holy Roman emperor: 108, 141 Sigismund of Tirol, Archduke of Austria. Also named Sigismund of Austria (1427–1496): 116 Signac, François de, seigneur de La Borde: 197 Sigüenza, José de (1544–1606): 224 n. 1–2 Silius Italicus (26–101): 159 Sixtus IV, pope (1414–1484): 53 Solari, Cristoforo (1460–1524): 135

index

Sophie Amalie of Brunswick-Lüneburg, queen of Denmark and Norway (1628–1685): 37–38, 44, 327–35, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340 Sophie of Mecklenburg-Güstrow, queen of Denmark and Norway (1557–1631): 334 Souvré, Sieur de: 265–66 Spalatin, George (1484–1545): 315 Speyer, bishops: 112–13 Speyer, Cathedral: 113 Stams, Convent: 117 Staphylus, Friedrich (1512–1564): 229 n. 25 Statius: 159, 164 n. 49 Sternberg, Berthold II von, bishop of Würzburg († 1287): 111–12 Strabo: 159, 161, 168 n. 66 Stuhlweissenburg (Székesfehérvár): 115 Stuttgart, Holy Cross church: 117 Suetonius (c. 70–c. 122): 159, 163 n. 34, 165 n. 53 Suleiman the Magnificent, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire (1494/1495–1566): 226 n. 14 Sweden, kingdom: 44, 329, 336 Swedish queens: 338 Taciturn, Guillaume/William the. See Orange-Nassau, Guillaume of Tacitus (58–c. 120): 159 Tessin, Nicodemus, the Younger (1654–1728): 338 Thevet, André (1516–1590): 170 n. 76 Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648): 323, 334, 339 Thonon: 141 Titus Livius (59 bc/64 –bc 17): ­176 Toledo: 226–28, 233 n. 31 Cathedral: 226–27 Tommaso da Modena, painter (1326–1379): 277 Torgau : 315 Torquemada, Jean de (1388–1468): 166 n. 58 Torre, La: 295

Torres, Felipe de: 293 n. 15 Torsano, Lucia di (1380–1461): 133 Totnan, Saint: 110 Toulouse, count of. See Bourbon, Louis-Alexandre de Touraine, Louis de. See Louis de France, duke of Orléans Tournon: 195 Tours, collegiate church of SaintMartin: 65 Trajan, Roman emperor (53–117): 159 n. 6, 160 n. 18 Trent, Council of (1545–1563): 249, 323 Trier, archbishop: 112 Troyes, treaty (1420): 58, 64 Turkey, ambassador: 196 Turks: 145 n. 18, 161 n. 27, 162 n. 30, 235 Tuscany, Grand dukes of: 41 Ulloa, Alfonso de: 232 n. 29 Ulrica Eleonora of Denmark, queen of Sweden (1656–1741): 44, 329–30, 336, 338 Urban II, pope (c. 1035–1099): 47 Urban V, pope (1310–1370): 48 Urban VI, pope (c. 1318–1389): 48 Urfé, Pierre d’ († 1508): 64 n. 45, 186, 187 n. 10, 188 n. 15–16, 189 Uztarroz, Andrés de (1606–1653): 292 n. 13 Valerius Maximus: 158 n. 2 Valladolid: 75 n. 10, 226, 228 Vallejo, Juan de (1500–1569): 76 n. 14, 78 n. 20 Valois Dynasty: 39, 43–44, 73 199, 259, 254 Vandenesse, Jean de : 231 n. 28, 232 n. 29, 233 n. 31, 236 n. 40, 238 n. 41 Varchi, Benedetto (1502–1565): 216 Vasari, Giorgio (1511–1574): 212, 216 Vaud: 146 Velada, Marques de: 301 Velasquez, Diego (1599–1660): 278

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Venice, Venezia: 214–17 doge’s Palace: 214 Church of Santissimi Giovanni e Paolo: 214 Vercelli: 141, 143–44 Castle: 142, 148 Cathedral of Saint Eusebius: 142 parish churches: 143 Vergil, Polydore (1470–1555): 102 Verrocchio, Andrea (1435–1488): 212 Vernois, Pierre de: 232 Versailles: 256–57, 259, 268 Royal Chapel: 254 Galerie des Glaces: 254–55 king’s Apartment: 251, 252 king’s Grand Apartment: 254 Bed Chamber: 254 Madame de Maintenon’s Apartment: 251 Salon of Mercury: 44, 254 Salon de l’Œil de Bœuf: 252 Vespasian, Roman emperor (c. 17–79): 163 n. 34 Viboldone, Abbey: 123, 125, 130 Vicenza, Teatro olympico: 281 Vienna: 108, 116, 163 n. 39 Vigarani, Gaspare (1588–1663): 43, 278, 279 n. 21 Vigenère, Blaise de (1523–1596): 158 n. 7, 160, 162, 163 n. 34, 37–38, 164 n. 40–41, 47–48, 165–66, 168, 176–77 Vigneulles, Philippe de (1471–1528): 77 n. 18 Villafranca, Pedro de (1615–1684): 294 n. 19, 297, 300, 302 Vincennes: 58, 95, 256 Vincent de Paul, Saint (1581–1660): 249 Virgil (70 bc–19 bc): 159 Virgin Mary: 256 Visconti, Azzone (1302–1339): 126, 127 Visconti,Bernabò (1323–1385): 26, 1 Visconti, Bianca Maria, duchess of Milan (1425–1468): 131–32

Visconti, Caterina, duchess of Milan. Also named Caterina di Bernabò Visconti (1361–1404): 126 Visconti Dynasty: 123–26, 133 Visconti, Filippo Maria, duke of Milan (1392–1447): 126, 131, 133 Visconti, Galeazzo II (1320–1378): 126 Visconti, Gian Galeazzo, duke of Milan (1351–1402): 123–26, 128–30, 133, 135 Visconti, Giovanni, archbishop of Milan (1290–1354): 126 Visconti, Giovanni Maria, duke of Milan: (1388–1412): 131 Visconti, Luchino, condottiere (c. 1287/1292–1349): 126 Visconti, Ottone, archbishop of Milan (1207–1295): 126 Visconti, Valentina, duchess of Orléans (c. 1366/1368–1408): 128–29 Visconti, Violante (1354–1386): 125 Visdomini, Alessio († 1568): 212 Viterbo, churches: 54 Vitruvius, Marcus Vitruvius Pollio (c. 81 bc–c. 15 bc): 158, 175 n. 94 Vitry, Jacques de, bishop of Saint-Jeand’Acre (c. 1160 or 1170–1240): 47, 48 n. 1, 51 Volaterranus. See Maffei Vorsterman, Willem († 1543): 77 Walsingham, Thomas (c. 1340–1422): 96 n. 14, 100 Wavrin, Jean de (c. 1394/ 1400–c. 1472–1475): 75 n. 13, 76 n. 15, 17, 79 n. 21, 82 n. 25 Wenceslaus IV, king of Bohemia, Holy Roman emperor (1361–1419): 123 Westphalia, Peace of: 319 William I, prince of Orange. See Orange-Nassau, William I William III, prince of Orange-Nassau, king of England (1650–1702): 339 William the Silent. See Orange-Nassau, William I

index

Willoughby, Robert, 6th baron Willoughby (1385–1452): 66 Windecke, Eberhard (1380–1440): 109 Windsor Castle, St George’s Chapel: 92, 102 Woeiriot, Pierre (1532–1599): 165 n. 55 Württemberg, counts of: 117–18 Württemberg-Neuenstadt, Ferdinand Wilhelm, duke of (1659–1701): 337 Württemberg, Ulrich V of (1413–1480): 117 Würzburg: 109–13 Convent of St Jacob: 110 Cathedral: 110–12 Churches of: 110 Marienberg fortress: 110 St Mary’s Church: 111 New Minster: 110 Principality of: 108–10 Würzburg, bishops: 113. See also Sternberg, Berthold II von Yolande de France, duchess then regent of Savoy (1434–1478): 149 n. 47 Yonne, river: 84 York, duke of. See Richard of York York, duchess of. See Isabella of Castile Yorkshire: 100 Yuste, monastery: 41, 223–25, 238–39 Yver, Jacques (c. 1548–1571/1572): 172 n. 85 Zaragoza. See Saragossa Zollern, county of: 118 Zwilling, Gabriel (c. 1487–1558): 315

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