Part I
1
Fernando Checa Cremades*
By the end of the Middle Ages a particular way of representing the image of warfare had developed in Europe, in which a narrative language was often employed in a monotonous way, imitating the literary genre of the chronicles of history.1 When transferred to images this language proved a complex way to highlight a military campaign’s most relevant exploits, to call attention to specific individuals, or to underscore the role played by the heroes. This language of triumph achieved its greatest splendour in the frescoes with a martial theme that decorated European castles, palaces and residences. This language was particularly deployed in the tapestry series that were among the customary ways of decorating the large rooms in noble, religious and royal buildings.
The four tapestries that comprise the series The Conquest of Asilah and Tangiers by Afonso V of Portugal (c. 1475), known as the ‘Pastrana tapestries’, are an excellent example of this artistic development. Together they form a series of around 45 metres (49 yards) in length that develops a panoramic overview of this military campaign fought in North Africa. Most certainly commissioned by their leading protagonist, King Alphonse V of Portugal (r. 1438–1477), this series is one of the most powerful images of warfare in Renaissance European art that is linked to an actual historical event, such as Alphonse V of Aviz’s 1471 expedition.2
The famous series of tapestries The Conquest of Tunis (1546–1553), commissioned by Mary of Hungary (1505–1558) in honour of her brother the Emperor Charles V (r. 1519–1558),3 undoubtedly represents the culmination of the representation of warfare and the image of triumph as developed over the course of the Renaissance. These tapestries were among those most often used by the Spanish Habsburgs in festivals and celebrations of every kind, a fact which signals the symbolic and representative importance attributed to them. The series expresses the complex and contradictory characteristics that conveyed the public image of the Emperor Charles V at the end of his reign.4
The aim of this chapter is to analyse the complexity and disparity of what could be termed ‘the language of triumph’ in a medium such as tapestry during one of its moments of greatest splendour, which developed from the end of the fifteenth century to the mid-sixteenth century. To this end, this chapter explores two series of fundamental importance: The Conquest of Asilah and Tangiers by Alphonse V of Portugal (Pastrana, Colegiata de Santa María), dated to c. 1475; and The Conquest of Tunis (Madrid, Patrimonio Nacional) completed in 1553. This chapter explores how these two artistic endeavours express in different ways the languages of triumph and military victory using the narrative of a historical chronicle. Thus this analysis enables us to contextualize the functions of the tapestries and the use of such representations of warfare in Renaissance festivals and commemorations.
The Conquest of Asilah and Tangiers by Alphonse V of Portugal: A Series Woven in the Workshop of Pasquier Grenier in Tournai
The tapestries of this series were almost certainly woven in the workshop of Pasquier Grenier (1447–1493), which was active in Tournai during the second half of the fifteenth century, as they reveal analogies in terms of composition and conception with other series on military themes produced by this workshop, such as Deeds of Alexander, c. 1455–1466 (Rome, Galleria Doria Pamphili).5 This would explain the images’ intricate narrative, as well as the taste for the compositional horror vacui, which was a typical feature of the Tournai workshops’ style at this time. The majority of the Latin inscriptions that accompany the series have been damaged or lost. Despite the extent of the information provided, it is insufficient for a complete, comprehensive reading of the series; instead the spectator is left fascinated by its panoramic spectacle.
The narrative formed by the four pieces has to be read in sequence from left to right, as the military encounters unfold visually one by one. The story represented has strong parallels with the chronicles written at the time, especially that of Ruy de Pina (1440–1521).6 The tapestries recount:
1. Landing in Asilah (Figure 1.1). In this first tapestry the action is introduced through the depiction of the Portuguese boats appearing on the left-hand side, filled with soldiers and profusely ornamented with heraldic devices. The central part of the tapestry shows King Alphonse V and his son John overseeing the landing of the troops from aboard their boat, and the march towards Asilah. The latter includes a second image of the royal figures, this time shown on foot. The arrival at the city is shown on the right-hand side. The tapestry develops a movement from left to right and this is the basic direction in which it has to be read.
2. Siege of Asilah. Both this tapestry and the one that follows lack any internal movement and so should be viewed by working from the centre, rather than from left to right. The scene is organized with the image of the city besieged by the Portuguese at its centre. The king and his son on horseback are depicted symmetrically on the right and the left in strict profile; the Grenier workshops produced a number of figures in the same manner in other tapestry series, such as Deeds of Alexander of which only the petits patrons have survived.
3. Assault on Asilah. This is also a static scene. Again the city is in the centre and the royal protagonists on horseback are shown on the left- and right-hand sides. The difficulty in reading the tapestries comes from the abundance and prolixity of the scenes depicting the assault on the fortress and the horror vacui that pervades the whole series.
4. Capture of Tangiers. The history of the campaign concludes in this final tapestry, which moves, like the first, from left to right. The capture of Asilah has now taken place and the army, without the royal protagonists, begins its march towards Tangiers. As in the first scene, this can be divided into three parts: the march towards Tangiers is an authentic triumphal parade, which occupies the left-hand side of the composition; the image of the city is in the centre; and on the right-hand side, also moving in the same direction, the flight of the Muslims leaving the city is shown. This is arguably one the best images of the Muslim world seen through European eyes produced during the later fifteenth century.
In conclusion, the four tapestries compose a panorama of war governed by a deep compositional coherence: from the initial appearance of the ships in the first tapestry to the final scene of the fleeing Muslims. The series is thus an extraordinary (woven) fresco, which provides abundant and detailed information on the military world of the period. Weapons proliferate (artillery, firearms, lances, shields) and armour of every type is depicted, thereby documenting the state of these elements in the mid-fifteenth century. The luxurious armour and garments of the two royal protagonists, and the saddlecloths and bridles of their mounts, help to distinguish them from the multitude of other figures. A similar point may be made with regard to the symbolic use of heraldry, which was one of the most important iconographical and cultural elements at that time. Without a thorough knowledge of heraldry we can understand neither the architectonic ornamentation of palaces and public religious buildings at the end of the fifteenth century nor the iconography of festivals and triumphal entries in early modern Europe, of which we lack an abundant corpus of images.7 This series of tapestries, like others from the end of the fifteenth century and even from the beginning of the sixteenth century are essential aids to imagining the special world of the Joyeuse Entrée, of which we possess many textual accounts but very few images. In essence, the visual style of the tapestry in its narration of the historical events imitates the chronicles of history that were replicated in the festival booklets of the period.8
1.1 Landing in Asilah, Pastrana Tapestry Series Copyright © 2014 Fundación Carlos de Amberes
The series allows us to consider the significance of the image of kingship and the representation of political and military power at the time. In addition, the tapestries show that martial iconography was in a period both of splendour and transition towards ‘modernity’. The abundance of heraldic elements and the actual images of Alfonso V and his son continued to draw on the language of medieval knighthood. However, the presence of the boats, the fortification systems and the easily identifiable firearms inform us of a new concept of warfare, a ‘modern’ warfare, which was taking hold towards the end of the fifteenth century.
The Conquest of Tunis, A Work By Willem de Pannemaker
The Conquest of Asilah series was owned by the Infantado family from at least 1532 onwards, although the exact date at which they acquired it and under what circumstances has not been ascertained.9 The Infantado family were great collectors of tapestries and had an important armoury, among many other works of art. The Conquest of Asilah series was used on repeated occasions to decorate their palace in Guadalajara.10 However, despite this repeated use, the image of warfare underwent an important evolution across Europe from the end of the fifteenth century. It should be noted in passing that the languages and motifs developed from medieval origins continued to be used in ‘decorative’ programmes, but this is an issue that cannot be addressed within the constraints of this chapter. Suffice it to say that in the field of tapestries, the image of war underwent an important advance in series such as The Battle of Pavia (c. 1528–1531), the cartoons for which were created by Bernard Van Orley (c. 1491–1541), and it reached its peak, as stated above, with the commission of The Conquest of Tunis series.11
Any study of these tapestries must begin by addressing the problem of the disparity between the date on which the events recounted took place (the summer of 1535) and the commissioning of the series (1546), the agreement to produce the tapestries (1548), and their actual manufacture (1550–1553). The key question is why there was a delay of over ten years in commissioning the painter Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen (1500–1559) to produce the cartoons, when this artist, in the company of the chronicler Alonso de Santa Cruz (1505–1572) among others, had travelled as part of the military expedition led by Charles V in order to make the necessary notes and drawings to produce a series of images.12 However, these initial images need not have been the cartoons for the later tapestries, which would commemorate and serve as propaganda, an event that soon came to be presented as one of the great imperial victories.
What is certain, nonetheless, is that from 1535 to 1546 the court of Charles V, despite significant approaches to international artists such as Titian, had yet to see the need for a comprehensive policy for propagandistic imagery using art. Unlike a number of Italian courts, Charles V’s retinue had yet to deploy art as a means to project royal magnificence.13 At present we cannot engage in an analysis of phenomena such as the lack of a more concrete and abundant policy of artistic imagery or the lack of interest in a more ‘modern’ form of artistic collecting. Yet we can affirm that from the mid-1540s a change in cultural paradigms begins to occur in the Habsburg court that signals the definitive adoption of an Italian Renaissance rhetoric of magnificence. Those responsible for this were Charles V’s sister, Mary of Habsburg and Queen of Hungary, and the Chancellor Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle; both were very conscious of the need to articulate a specific image of power linked to the House of Austria and to provide the dynasty with architectural spaces for its visual representation (the latter were to be supplied with abundant art collections).14 These were, above all, the old palace of Coudenberg, the historic seat of the Dukes of Burgundy, which Mary of Hungary submitted to a series of important reforms, and the new palace of Binche, which was the work of the architect and sculptor Jacques Du Broeucq (c. 1505–c. 1584). The latter was inaugurated with spectacular festivals in August 1549.15
At this time, which coincided with the victory in 1548 over the alliance of German princes in the Schmalkald League, the search for an ad hoc image of the emperor through works of art was subject to elaborate rhetoric. This programme developed an image of Charles V as conqueror not only of his political and military enemies but also as master of himself and his own passions, resembling Stoic notions. Stoicism was one of the emperor’s favourite philosophies.16 This image-making resulted in its best examples in Titian’s 1548 equestrian portrait, and in Leone Leoni’s sculpture, in which Charles appears as a dominating Fury, based on the famous verses from The Aeneid, which celebrate the august peace that follows civil war.17 Together with this rhetoric, which could be described as conciliatory in nature since it eulogizes Charles’ political and Christian virtues, the imperial court developed another image that sought to justify a bellicose policy considered absolutely necessary in the context of the maintenance of power and imperial status; this was a less philosophical image, but it was not, as a result, especially domineering.
The tapestries commissioned and undertaken in the context of the court of Charles V always engaged with this dual need to combine a conciliatory image with a celebration of realpolitik. This dual kingly image can be seen in the series The Foundation of Rome (c. 1535) and The Battle of Pavia woven by Van Orley at the end of the second decade of the sixteenth century. The first series represented Charles V as a peace-seeking ruler, protector of agriculture, livestock and fields, as well as lawgiver, and drew on histories of Rome based on Titus Livy. The second series continued the form of representation begun by Charles’ antecedents of presenting a relevant military event as it if were a chronicle, in this case the victory against the King of France in 1525.18 Thus the ‘chronicle’ form, deployed in the fifteenth century, continued to be used and it would be taken up once more in The Conquest of Tunis.
By 1546 the martial feats that had occurred 11 years earlier in Tunis were considered to be a decisive event in the imperial career that Charles V presented as defender of the faith, not against an ‘uncomfortable’ internal enemy such as the German princes, many of whom were followers of the Lutheran faith, but against Muslim forces, the ‘natural’ enemy of Christianity for around 800 years. Thus, it proved easier and more justifiable to present the image of defensor fidei in a struggle against Islam, rather than against those who had recently been central European allies. On the other hand, the commissioning of this series extended the classical imperial image of Charles V as a new Scipio Africanus, which had begun to flourish since the 1535 campaign with spectacular demonstrations in the triumphs celebrated in Charles’ honour in Messina, Naples, Rome, Florence, Lucca and Siena.19
Therefore, between 1546 and 1548 when the tapestries were commissioned, an artistic programme could be developed that adequately combined a representation of Charles V as both Christian ruler and Renaissance hero. This was achieved by foregrounding the ‘milder’ aspects of his military deeds together with a more domineering image of his policy, given that it was directed at, as pointed out above, the ‘natural enemy’, together with a representation of the enemy, which we might say allowed for the expression of cruelty.
The series of tapestries that we refer to as The Conquest of Tunis (of which only 10 of the original series of 12 tapestries survive, due to the loss of numbers 8 and 11) is held in the collections of the Patrimonio Nacional in Madrid. A significant number of cartoons of the series are preserved in Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum with a number of related works of art that assist the study of the tapestries. The creator of the cartoons was the Flemish painter Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen and the inventor of their subjects was, most likely, the chronicler and imperial cosmographer Alonso de Santa Cruz, who drew above all on three artistic, imaginative and linguistic resources that are analysed as follows.
Word and Image in the Tunis Series and the Language of Chronicles
Firstly, we must place particular emphasis on the highly efficient and original combination of word and image in the Tunis tapestry series; and secondly on the deliberately ‘objective’ presentation of events which develops the notion of the series as a ‘historical chronicle’; and finally, we must draw attention to the great importance that is given to geographical and topographical features. In this chapter only the first two aspects of the series outlined above are studied in detail.
As in The Conquest of Asilah and Tangiers series, the inscriptions play a crucial role in The Conquest of Tunis, although by now with a much greater complexity. We have already seen how in the fifteenth-century series the Latin inscriptions, located in the upper section of the tapestries, were limited to explaining the events narrated in each image. However, in The Conquest of Tunis each tapestry possesses at least two inscriptions and in many cases three: one in Spanish in the upper section; a different inscription in Latin in the lower section; and an indication of the observation point from which the image was created, which is included to one side of the tapestry. This last type of inscription features from the third tapestry in the series onwards; these tapestries narrate the events of the campaign itself. The only exception is the ninth tapestry, which forms a visual and compositional unit with the tenth and thus only needs one topographical indication.
Despite the fact that the compositional system and organization of the series implied a very important advance by way of representing martial events through the medium of tapestries, the complexity of the story being narrated meant that these written indications were essential for the series to be understood correctly. If we compare any one of the tapestries in The Conquest of Tunis with the series depicting the conquests of Tangiers and Asilah, the change in the concept of the image of the military events developed in Vermeyen’s cartoons is evident. However, these cartoons also drew on other precedents, developed at the court of Charles V, such as the Battle of Pavia, for which the petits patrons were produced by Van Orley. In the Tunis series the clarification of the message is produced through a double channel: the application of an interpretation that we could term topographical or perspectival, supported by the inscriptions explaining the scene. Seen in this way it is not so difficult to relate it to the narrative systems that were used in the Renaissance world of festivals and triumphal entries, in which the language, whether historical, mythological or allegorical, was ‘commented upon’ with a sense of continuity through inscriptions, which were also frequently bilingual. Examples of this may be read in the famous book, El Felicísimo Viaje… which recounts the tour made by Prince Philip to the Italian, German and Flemish territories, and describes all the triumphal entries in minute detail, including their arches with their iconography and inscriptions. The festivals described in the chronicle constituted a political–festive event, which was closely related to those that motivated the Tunis tapestry series.20
One of the most extraordinary moments of the whole series is the long inscription in the first tapestry, The Map (Figure 1.2). It is a programmatic declaration by the cartoons’ creator, Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen, concerning the artistic language employed, which offers a genuine aesthetic and linguistic manifesto. The inscription reads: ‘In this work only the likeness of the event is depicted in as fitting a manner as possible.’21
Therefore the series aimed to achieve a high degree of historical verisimilitude, which extended not only to the events but also to the places, as it was also deemed necessary that ‘information about the regions and provinces in which the events took place’ should feature as part of an interest that had to surpass even the strictly aesthetic and artistic.22 Indeed the inscription continues by stating that these features were depicted with: ‘much more respect for the precision of their placement, than the propriety of their depiction’. It is thus clear that a high degree of topographical precision was intended, as is also demonstrated by the inscriptions for the locations that appear in the side borders. In addition, the abundant representations of compasses included in the tapestries were obviously intended to provide a sense of orientation. With regard to this aspect of the series one may note the contribution of the Emperor’s chronicler and cosmographer, Alonso de Santa Cruz, and also the broader interests of Charles’ court in maps, topography and instruments for making geographical measurements. A good demonstration of the interest in maps is the protection given to Mercator, while the abundance of maps and scientific instruments that Charles V took with him when he retired to Yuste clearly demonstrates his personal interest in topography and geography and the tools of science.23
1.2 The Map, tapestry from the Conquest of Tunis series in the collections of Patrimonio Nacional, Madrid Source: Brussels, workshop of Willem de Pannemaker based on cartoons by Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen, 1548–1554. Copyright © 2014 Patrimonio Nacional, Madrid.
The opening inscription presents a clear commitment to a dual representational language, which responded to the type of events being narrated: ‘And so that which was undertaken with regard to the sea adheres to cosmography, while for that regarding the land the painter has observed what his art dictates.’24 Therefore the series’ commemorative rhetoric is based on a twofold awareness of the artistic considerations employed: for everything that refers to the narration of the journey by sea a ‘scientific’ and topographical narrative system is deployed, while the land-based campaign description follows the ‘languages of art’, which naturally allowed greater freedom.
As a result it is the war scenes and the campaign itself that are worth highlighting. Although this 1535 African campaign ‘was prompted by serious causes and great need’, as the inscription states, these are set aside in the series’ narrative system so that ‘only the likeness of the event is depicted in as fitting a manner as possible’.25 The first tapestry underscores the significance of a place such as Barcelona, the expedition’s point of departure, for the events shown; the inscription states: ‘being founded on this truth, one may go on to better understand the particular features of the other tapestries and the location of the places where the events contained in them took place’.26 Thus the historical narrative system employed gave great importance to verisimilitude and adherence to the real account of events.
From this point of view it is interesting to highlight the attention given to the ideas related to history recording and the manner of narrating it used by Lucian of Samosata, an author of late antiquity, who was widely read during the Renaissance. Lucian believed that history should explain itself with clarity and ought to recount the events with as much evidence as possible, ‘avoiding abstruse out-of-the-way expressions… we wish the vulgar to comprehend, the cultivated to commend us’.27 The system of maintaining an equilibrium between verisimilitude and narration, which could be termed ‘poetic’, was set out by Lucian in his treatise, The Way To Write History. He considered it logical that the mind of the historian should be influenced by poetry, ‘especially’ he states,
when it finds itself in the midst of battle array and conflicts by land or sea; it is then that the poetic gale must blow to speed the vessel on, and help her ride the waves in majesty. But the diction is to be content with terra firma, rising a little to assimilate itself to the beauty and grandeur of the subject, but never startling the hearer, nor forgetting a due restraint.28
The precepts of this classical author, clearly based on Quintilian’s ideas of Rhetoric and Aristotle’s on Poetics, may be observed in the series’ third tapestry, which depicts the arrival and landing of Charles V’s fleet at Carthage. On closer inspection it can be seen how the narration begins in the upper right-hand corner where the fleet is seen travelling from Italy. It advances towards the left until it arrives at the lagoon where the city can be seen. On the right-hand side we see the arrival of the boats. At the centre of the tapestry is a depiction of Andrea Doria (1466–1560), whose vessel stands out (which serves to introduce Doria, who was in charge of the sea forces), while on the left we see the landing of the troops, the soldiers’ salute to Charles V, a series of military skirmishes and the depiction of Alfonso d’Avalos, Second Marquis of Vasto (1502–1546), one of the generals, who is highlighted among Charles’ troops. In the background, which always plays an important role in tapestries, the lagoon appears, along with the fort called La Goleta, the rooftops of Tunis and the classical ruins of Carthage. The inscription referring to the location states: ‘It should be assumed that this third scene is observed from the fleet while following the coast from the Porto Farina [Ghar El Melh]: until it rounds the Cape of Carthage….’29
If Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen was the author of the cartoons, the selection of the events, as well as the Spanish inscriptions, was undoubtedly the work of Alonso de Santa Cruz. Comparing some of the paragraphs from his description of the Tunis campaign included in his Crónica del emperador Carlos V [Chronicle of the Emperor Charles V] with the tapestries’ inscriptions, the parallels are unequivocal.30 At one stage of his chronicle Alonso de Santa Cruz describes the initial moments of the fight against Carthage:
The Emperor left the port with his navy on the 14th of June and arrived in good time to sight the cape of Carthage, and with his galleys he entered Porto Farina, where the city called Utica in ancient times used to be, and four hours later the ships arrived, as the weather had not been in their favour they had been slow, and from there the navy followed the coast in good order stopping just off the ruins of ancient Carthage….31
He went on to describe the coast, the lagoon, the La Goleta fort and the first shots fired against what is called the Water Tower. The comparison of this part of the chronicle with the inscription of the series’ third tapestry is very eloquent. It reads:
With the galleys the emperor enters Porto Farina: which is the city known in antiquity as Utica, and four hours later the ships arrived: as the wind was light they had gone more slowly. From there the navy followed the coast according to the good order established by Prince Doria, who after the Emperor is its principal commander. And it arrived at the port of the famous city of Carthage, where the emperor calmly passes them all with some galleys to reconnoitre the Goleta fort. Shots are fired from one side and some artillery strikes are made from another. The following day on the 16th of June the infantry begins to disembark: whereby all at once twelve thousand infantrymen from three nations disembark together with the Emperor and the grandees and knights of his household and court. Three places are taken: they capture from those at the cape of Carthage that which still retains the name of that great city. The same day from the galleys the artillery fought against the two towers of Water and Salt: they capture the shoreline. And the enemy abandons them. There are a number of skirmishes: in which the Marquis of Vasto as second in command to the Emperor takes the principal command of the land army: with some Spanish harquebusiers: he bears down on the enemy, who here lose men and horses.32
In Santa Cruz’s description of what happened on 16 June, the relationship between the texts is still more evident:
and then on the day of the 16th of June the galleys came alongside the ships and with small boats and skiffs the men were all loaded and disembarked on land, and squadrons were formed: one made up of experienced soldiers from Italy and Sicily, that numbered 10,000; and another of Germans, that numbered 8,000; and another of Italians, which numbered about the same; and another squadron of around 700 knights, the Comendadors of Rhodes… and likewise they left the tower of Water, and that of Salt and another valuable tower nearby … and as they were standing their ground in this way the moors began to fire on them with three artillery pieces, and his Majesty ordered the Marquis of Vasto to send out some harquebusiers. They went to where the moors were to reconnoitre how many of them there were, and while there they engaged them in a skirmish, during which many of them [the moors] were killed and injured, and this made them retreat with their large artillery piece, although it was with loss to some of their horses.33
It is clear, therefore, that the inscription of the tapestry follows Santa Cruz’s chronicle, either citing it word for word or by summarizing it.
A similar relationship may be noted with regard to the fourth tapestry, First Skirmishes Around Carthage. Santa Cruz’s chronicle recounts that
on the nineteenth of June, as the army had been on the high ground in the olive groves and ancient buildings, the Emperor ordered it down to the plain to siege La Goleta, and thus began the army’s withdrawal [from the high ground], leaving five platoons of Italian infantry guarding the places taken….34
The inscription reads as follows: ‘The army spent two days in the high ground, where there were some skirmishes. Having disembarked the rest of the troops: the emperor agreed to bring them down to the plain to begin sieging La Goleta.’35
The different ways in which Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen, the creator of the cartoons, portrayed himself in the series are equally expressive of these variations concerning linguistic verisimilitude and the relationships between word and image that are one of the core constituent elements of the linguistic system of the series. Vermeyen’s self-assured nature may be inferred from both his sense of his own innate good looks and his long beard, and it is clear from the self-portrait included in the Schilderboeck of Karel van Mander (1548–1606); he abandoned the traditional way of presenting himself as an author in this and other artistic genres.36 Usually artists would write or present a text to the person who financed the work. However, in the first tapestry of the series, its author included his life-size, full-length effigy looking out at the spectator and wielding not a brush, but a compass. This highlights the decisive importance that geography and topography had in the series, as well as the intellectual and scientific character of its creation. In addition to the realistic tone of the tapestries’ rigorous chronicle for which the literary source has been discussed, further emphasis on the verisimilitude of the events portrayed is made with the insertion of the artist’s own image. Although not especially prominent, Vermeyen appears on various occasions, drawing the incidents around him amidst the clamour of the battle: this is the artist who wants to capture the events ‘exactly’ as they took place. Finally, in the ninth tapestry, Vermeyen again appears as a protagonist: he includes himself on a large scale together with another figure, who is even more accentuated and is very probably Alonso de Santa Cruz (see Figure 1.3). The latter is depicted as if writing a chronicle, and listened to by an attentive and expressive Vermeyen. Without any doubt, an allusion is thus made to the written word and the chronicle; presented visually in this manner it appears of equal status to the image.
1.3 Portrait of Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen (with Alonso de Santa Cruz ?), Detail Source: Cartoon copyright © Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna Photograph copyright © 2009 Dr Juan Luis González García
The Language of Triumph
One of the most notable aspects of the series’ iconography is that the image of Charles V himself seems to be scarce. However, careful study of the tapestries reveals this to be a more subtle issue, one underpinned by the particular characteristics that Charles’ imperial image acquired during the first half of the sixteenth century. In this regard attention should be drawn to the presence of the principal imperial emblems in the tapestries’ borders: the double-headed eagle in the upper corners, the St Andrew’s Cross in the lower ones and the columns of Hercules on either side. It should not be forgotten that in the context of the visual culture of the period, widely disseminated through festivals and triumphal entries, as well as the presence of these symbols in architectural decorations, the mere appearance of these emblems was a clear and direct sign of the imperial content of the message. As a result, the specific iconography of the series continued to use the imperial language of symbols in every type of adornment, including weapons, the decorative cloths for trumpets, clothes and other details. The language of symbols is established as one of its leitmotivs, something we have also seen earlier in the series The Conquest of Asilah and Tangiers.
The clearest and largest image of Charles V is that in the second tapestry, The Review of the Troops in Barcelona, in which the monarch is placed in the centre of the composition and on horseback, as in his other appearances in the series. He is clad in armour, holding a general’s baton and wearing the chain of the Order of the Golden Fleece (Figure 1.4). Charles V’s other appearances in the series, which are less obvious and on occasions hard to locate, present him commanding his troops or taking part in skirmishes, as occurs in the tapestry that narrates the advance of the army on Radès. In this image he is shown in a pose that recalls that of Titian’s equestrian portrait. However, he never appears alone and is always integrated into units or blocks of soldiers. In this way his military character is indicated, just as the written sources repeatedly tell us. He appears as miles christi rather than a triumphal hero superior to other humans. However, the imperial image does not cease to be triumphant, as is apparent in the ninth tapestry. In this image the emperor, again with the same red horse and again clad in a black cloak, is welcomed and greeted as triumphant by the inhabitants of Tunis as he victoriously marches towards the city following its capture. His posture and the composition echo a relief on the west wall of the Arch of Constantine in Rome, showing Trajan hailed by the Dacians.
The second tapestry demands closer study. In his chronicle Santa Cruz recounts the arrival of the different troops in Barcelona and the panorama of the flags and their adornments. He highlights the presence of the Portuguese fleets, Andrea Doria’s Italian ships, those from Malaga under the Marquis of Mondéjar, the one from the Basque Country, and the 20 large vessels (urcas) from Flanders. He comments on their flags, colours and arms and highlights Doria’s fleet,
which entered with 16 galleys, all adorned, with their oars coloured and flying taffeta flags in his majesty’s colour as well as his [Doria’s] own, which were red and black, and the captain’s galley was flying 254 large flags of gold cloth with His Majesty’s arms and three crimson satin standards, one of which was exquisitely bordered with a large crucifix and Our Lady and Saint John, while the other bore an image of Our Lady with her son in her arms, and another Saint Elmo. All the galleys rigged seemed like gardens, and there was a loud music of trumpets, … bugles, drums and fifes.37
1.4 Detail of the Portrait of Charles V in the cartoon drawn by Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen for the tapestry The Review of the Troops in Barcelona from the Conquest of Tunis series Source: Cartoon © Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna Photograph copyright © 2009 Dr Juan Luis González García
In this tapestry the luxurious garments, weapons, armour and the special ornamentation of the horses stand out. It is logical that the participants of the Barcelona parade would show off their best finery as it was one of the most important parades of Charles V’s reign. We also have a multitude of written sources, some of which are detailed: ‘The Emperor,’ stated Santa Cruz,
appeared as a true gentleman riding a Turkish horse holding a mace, moving from platoon to platoon, ordering and assigning the men. Once he had formed a squadron of 700 cavalrymen he made them ride round the parade ground and then enter the city in threes and ride up to the palace.38
In addition, in 1535 the all’Antica fashion had firmly taken hold and this is reflected in the attire, the armour and the vessels represented in the series.
The eleventh tapestry is very important when it comes to analysing the languages of triumph in The Conquest of Tunis series, as it combines in its upper section the march of the imperial armies on the port of Radès and in its central part Charles V appears on horseback. The foreground scene, in which (as in the rest of the series) the figures appear largest, seems to be some kind of special triumphal retinue – not of a military nature like the parade and review of the troops in the second tapestry, but rather a civic one, not wholly exempt from a somewhat classical nuance, with the presence of animals such as oxen, goats, ostriches and even camels, one driven by a child carrying palm leaves. A similar classical tone can be noted in the presence of a young, elegantly garbed Tunisian at the centre of this part of the composition, which recalls the sculpture of the conquered Dacians that adorns the attic register of Constantine’s arch in Rome, as well as that of a woman carrying a basket of fruit on her head that recalls the classical iconography of triumph.
Both prior to and after the Conquest of Tunis Vermeyen accompanied Charles V on two journeys through Spain. It was during these, and most certainly during the second, between 1537 and 1539, that he produced a number of drawings and paintings of imperial festivities, in which bullfighting and the juego de cañas, played an important role.39 These were a surviving legacy of late medieval Moorish culture that was undoubtedly stimulated by the 1535 Tunisian expedition. This fact is interesting as it helps us to understand some aspects of the languages of triumph that have been discussed with regard to these series of tapestries. Despite the tapestries’ continued ‘declarations’ about what is referred to as the ‘realism’ and ‘verisimilitude’ of the facts of war, in so far as they were depicted by Vermeyen, the compositions showing many figures, above all those referring to lance-bearing equestrian fighters, appear very similar to the artist’s drawings of tourneys and the festivals of bullfights and juegos de cañas. The tumult of war is presented in this way on many occasions in a style typical of a ‘Moorish tourney’, just as the various positions and expressions of other figures were inspired by Hellenistic and Roman culture. As a result, this series is a peculiar mixture of cultural and artistic references to antiquity, in addition to others of a Moorish and oriental nature that the Spanish court had not forgotten from earlier periods and which were recovered on the occasion of Charles V’s conquest of Tunis.
The languages of triumph made good use of the classical Roman possibilities of a place such as Carthage, which abounded in large and spectacular Roman ruins. In the prints based on Vermeyen’s drawings that were engraved prior to the tapestries’ production, the aqueduct of Carthage is given special prominence. The same use of the Roman past occurs in a good many of the series’ tapestries and their cartoons, especially in the sixth tapestry (cartoon 5), the topographical inscription for which states: ‘One should consider that this sixth piece looks out from the aqueducts that are on the outskirts of Carthage.’40 In this case the ruins appear on the left and frame the composition, while on other occasions they are located in the background and seen from a more distant perspective, but as may be expected the classical backdrop of these events is never overlooked.
The reference to these ruins could not be more opportune or more intentional, as at this time Charles V was increasingly being compared to Scipio Africanus, and his iconography, true to the fashion of the time, became ever more evocative of the Roman Empire. For the triumphant entries that marked his subsequent and immediate journey to Italy this Carthaginian triumph offered the best of pretexts for the Romanization of the imperial image. Thus it is not by chance that in the Roman entry of 1536 one of the key moments of the emperor’s classical exaltation, the parade through the city, would be adapted in an explicit way to follow the ‘ancient triumphant route’.41 Furthermore, as in the tapestry series, the classical ruins of Rome would be used as a spectacular classical backdrop for the reconstruction of the modern classical triumph, indeed to the extent that Pope Paul III Farnese (r. 1534–1549) ordered the destruction of a great number of buildings, including churches, to give greater value to the Roman ruins.42 In Florence, the triumph organized by Alessandro de’ Medici (1510–1537) and designed by Giorgio Vasari (1511–1574) in 1536 used numerous decorative elements based on trophies and all’Antica weapons, which had been made fashionable in Italy by Raphael and his followers.43
Conclusion
Many years later, on 7 October 1571, the Christian forces formed an alliance known as the Holy League and conquered the Turkish troops at Lepanto. Like the conquest of Tunis in 1535, this victory was skilfully magnified through propaganda, this time by Philip II of Spain and his allies, and through abundant works of art. Tapestries stood out among these works of art once again, as in those woven for Prince Doria with scenes of the fleet. However, the greatest symbolic endeavour of that moment was a peculiar initiative called the Galera Real [the Royal Galley],44 a ceremonial galley adorned with allegorical and mythological paintings, which focused on the conqueror of the battle, John of Austria (1547–1578), the illegitimate brother of Philip II. For this purpose the architects of the decorative programme drew once again on the poetic histories of antiquity linked to the sea, such as Ulysses, Aeneas, Jason and the Argonauts, gods such as Neptune and personifications of virtues of a political and military nature. Some of the celebrated paintings by Titian that arrived at the court with the aim of commemorating Lepanto employed a more allegorical artistic grammar. A poetic style substituted for the supposedly more objective chronicle, the allegory was a language that was more in vogue in Europe at that time and would still have to develop fully at the Spanish court. Juan de Mal Lara (1524–1571), the author of the complex programme of the Galera Real, reflected on this fact at the beginning of the explanatory text on the iconography he had created. In this text he explained to Philip II his intention to illustrate the event through histories, fables, metaphors, symbols, hieroglyphs, sayings and maxims, in such a way that, as he stated explicitly, ‘the galley itself serves as a book of memory’ to be used by John of Austria for the practice of virtue.45 As a result, and in a declaration of intentions that places us in a setting wholly different to that of the creation of the tapestries of The Conquest of Tunis, Mal Lara states, ‘there is no history ancient or modern, but only a number of inventions based on poets’ fables with the morality they contain in their secret parts’.46 Allegory and poetic language had replaced the chronicle as a renewed language of triumph. What history could teach and its moral meaning became of more interest than history itself.
It is undeniable that times were changing and that the power of the House of Habsburg sought new linguistic media in artistic images with which it could express itself. However, we should not forget that during the reign of Philip II of Spain, Vermeyen’s series of tapestries would continue to be used extensively during festivities and court ceremonies, just as they were during subsequent reigns. For example, the first time they were used was for the celebrations of Philip’s wedding to the English Queen Mary Tudor in 1554.47 This use indicates a particular play between tradition and modernity, innovation and continuity that characterized the artistic language of the early modern court. Without this interplay it is impossible to understand the variety of ephemeral structures and their decoration displayed in Renaissance and early modern festivals. From this perspective it is significant that when Philip II decorated one of the corridors of his monastery with images of battles – what is now called ‘The Hall of Battles’ in the palace of El Escorial – he made recourse to the language of tapestry; in The Battle of La Higueruela Philip asked his artists to simulate in paint an enormous sarga (i.e. a painted wall-hanging), and for them to adhere to the narrative models of the old fifteenth-century sarga, today lost, but at that time found in Segovia’s Royal Alcázar (palace).
Notes
1 The number of history chronicles that proliferated during the period in Europe is overwhelming and citing scholarship on this topic is far beyond the scope of this chapter. However, for medieval and early modern texts in Iberia see: R. L. Kagan, Clio and the Crown: The Politics of History in Medieval and Early Modern Spain (Baltimore, 2009).
2 The tapestries were restored at the Royal Manufacturers De Wit in Malinas (Belgium). This work received the 2011 Europa Nostra prize for conservation and the works toured in several exhibitions in Europe and the US. The most important publications concerning the series are: R. Dos Santos, As Tapiçerias da tomada de Arcila (Lisbon, 1925); M. Á. Bunes Ibarra, Y. M. de Wit y D. Rodrígues, Los tapices de Pastrana (Madrid, 2010). J. Sánchez González, Á. Rodríguez Rebollo and G. Dueñas Beraiz, Las hazañas de un rey: tapices flamencos del siglo XV en la Colegiata de Pastrana. Historia y armamento (Toledo, 2010). M. Á. Bunes Ibarra, D. J. La Rocca, D. Rodrigues, The Invention of Glory: Afonso V and the Pastrana Tapestries (Madrid, 2013).
3 Charles of Habsburg was King of Spain from 1516 until his abdication in 1558 (his heir to the Spanish throne was his son Philip, who became King Philip II). Charles was Holy Roman Emperor from 1519 until his abdication in 1558 (his heir to the emperorship was his brother Ferdinand).
4 On the creation of the artistic image for Charles V see, for instance: F. Checa Cremades, Carlos V y la imagen del héroe en el Renacimiento (Madrid, 1987); F. Checa Cremades, Carlos V: la imagen del poder en el Renacimiento (Madrid, 1999).
5 F. Checa Cremades, Tapisseries flamandes. Pour les ducs de Bourgogne, l’empereur Charles Quint et le roi Philippe II, (Brussels, 2008). Thomas P. Campbell in his study on tapestries in Renaissance Italy also refers to the Deeds of Alexander piece: T. P. Campbell, Tapestry in the Renaissance. Art and Magnificence (New York, 2002), pp. 33–4.
6 Ruy da Pina’s Chronica d’el Rei D. Affonso V was first published in J. F. Correia da Serra (ed.), Collecção de livros ineditos de historia portugueza. Vol. 1 (Lisbon, 1790). R. da Pina, Chronica d’el Rei D. João II (Lisbon, 1989). U. Baquero Moreno, I. Vaz de Freitas, A corte de Alfoso V o Tempo e os Homens (Gijón, 2006).
7 A great number of Renaissance festival books have either an exiguous number of illustrations or no images at all. A browse through the books digitalized, annotated and available at the Renaissance Festival books website of the British Library confirms this. This project was directed by Ronnie Mulryne and Margaret Shewring (http://www.bl.uk/treasures/festivalbooks/homepage.html). For a study of the festival book ‘genre’ see H. Watanabe-O’Kelly, ‘The Early Modern Festival Book: Function and Form’, in J. R. Mulryne, Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly and M. Shewring (eds), Europa Triumphans: Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe (Aldershot and Burlington, 2004) vol. I, pp. 3–18.
8 For an analysis of early modern iconographic material of festivals in the Spanish Habsburg’s dominions, see, for instance: V. Mínguez Cornelles, P. González Tornell, M. I. González Moya, La fiesta barroca. El reino de Valencia (1599–1802) (Castellón, 2010) and V. Mínguez Cornelles, I. Rodríguez, P. González, J. Chiva, La fiesta barroca. Los virreinatos americanos, 1559–1808 (Castellón, 2012).
9 M. Á. Bunes Ibarra, ‘Los tapices de Pastrana y la expansión portuguesa por el norte de África’, in Bunes Ibarra, Wit, Rodrígues, Los tapices de Pastrana (Madrid, 2010), pp. 13–25.
10 On the Dukedom of Infantado and the arts see the classic work by Helen Nader: H. Nader, The Mendoza Family in the Spanish Renaissance 1350–1550 (Rutgers, 1979). On the Infantado and Guadalajara see, for instance: F. Layna Serrano, Historia de Guadalajara y sus Mendoza en los Siglos XV y XVI (Madrid, 1942).
11 For some significant publications on this series, albeit not a comprehensive list, see: H. J. Horn, Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen. Painter of Charles V and his Conquest of Tunis.(2 vols., Doornspijk, 1989); W. Seipel (ed.), Der Kriegszug Kaiser Karls V. gegen Tunis. Kartons und Tapisserien (Vienna, 2000); M. A. de Bunes Ibarra, M. Falomir Faus, ‘Carlos V, Vermeyen y la conquista de Túnez’, in J. L. Castellano Castellano, F. Sánchez-Montes González (eds), Carlos V. Europeísmo y universalidad (Madrid, 2001), vol. 5, pp. 243–57; S. Deswarte-Rosa, ‘L’Expédition de Tunis (1535): Images, interprétations, répercussions culturelles’, in B. Bennassar, R. Sauzet (eds), Chrétiens et Musulmans à la Renaissance (Paris, 1998), pp. 75–132; J. L. González García, ‘Pinturas tejidas: la guerra como arte y el arte de la guerra en torno a la Empresa de Túnez (1535)’, Reales Sitios: Revista del Patrimonio Nacional, no. 174 (2007), pp. 24–47.
12 See, for instance: E. A. Werner, ‘Der Tunis: Feldzug Karls V. und die Tapisserien Willem de Pannemakers nach Kartons von Jan Cornelisz. Vermeyen’, in Kaiser Karl V. (1500–1558): Macht und Ohnmacht Europas (Bonn, Vienna, 2000, pp. 196–205 and Seipel, Der Kriegszug, pp. 41–109).
13 In addition to the publications cited earlier concerning Charles V’s artistic representation, see studies on artistic commissions and inventories of the Habsburg Imperial family in: F. Checa Cremades (ed.), The Inventories of Charles V and the Imperial Family (Madrid, 2010).
14 See F. Checa Cremades, ‘Emperor Charles V: Inventories, Possesions and Collections’, in Checa Cremades (ed.), The Inventories, pp. 57–74.
15 For a contemporary and beautifully illustrated chronicle of the festival see: C. Egelnoff, L. Beck, Thournier/ Kampff/ unnd Ritterspiel/ Inn Eroberunge aines Gefährlichenn Thurns/ unnd Zauberer Schloß/ Auch der Abentheuerlichen Insell/ unnd Güldinn Schwerdts. Zu Ehren dem Hochgebornen Durchleuchtigen Fürsten und Herrn/ Herrn Philipsen/ Princen ausz Hispanien [etc.] Zu Bintz und Marienberg Ritterlich gehalten (Frankfurt, 1550). This chronicle can be accessed through the British Library’s Renaissance festival books: http://special-1.bl.uk/treasures/festivalbooks/BookDetails.aspx?strFest=0117. The fundamental reference for Prince Philip’s sojourn, including the festivals in Binche, is the account by the official chronicle: J. C. Calvete de Estrella, El Felicissimo viaje d’el alto y muy poderoso Principe Don Felipe, hijo del Emperador Don Carlos Quinto Maximo, desde España á sus tierras de la baxa Alemaña (Antwerp, 1552).
16 See, for instance P. Mesnard, ‘L’Expérience politique de Charles Quint et les Enseignements d’Erasme’, in Jacquot (ed.), Les Fêtes, pp. 45–6 and F. Checa Cremades, ‘La definición de la imagen imperial: Carlos V y Tiziano en Bolonia (1530 y 1532)’, in J. L. Colomer, A. Serra Desfilis, España y Bolonia: siete siglos de relaciones artísticas y culturales (Madrid, 2006), pp. 89–102.
17 For an extensive discussion on this topic see Checa Cremades, Carlos V: la imagen del poder and also J. F. Moffitt, ‘The Forgotten Role of a “Determined Christian Knight” in Titian’s depiction of Charles V, Equestrian, at Mühlberg’, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, CXXVII (2001), pp. 37–51.
18 Campbell, Tapestry in the Renaissance, pp. 296–8.
19 For an analysis of Charles V’s Italian sojourn see: B. Mitchell, The Majesty of the State: Triumphal Progresses of Foreign Sovereigns in Renaissance Italy (1494–1600) (Florence, 1986), pp. 151–74. As well as the seminal essays in J. Jacquot (ed.), Les Fêtes de la Renaissance II: Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles-Quint (Paris, 1960), especially A. Chastel, ‘Les Entrées de Charles Quint en Italie’, pp. 197–206 and J. Jacquot, ‘Panorama des fêtes et cérémonies du règne’, pp. 427–33. See also, among others, F. Checa Cremades, ‘La entrada de Carlos V en Milán el año 1541’, Goya: Revista de Arte, no. 151 (1979), pp. 24–31. On the idea of empire and Charles V see: F. A. Yates, ‘Charles Quint et l’idée de l’Empire’, in Jacquot, Les Fêtes, pp. 57–91.
20 Calvete de Estrella, El Felicissimo viaje.
21 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
22 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
23 F. Checa Cremades, ‘L’Espace architectonique du Monastère de Yuste’, Correspondance: Revista Hispano-belga, no. 1 (1994), pp. 156–66.
24 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
25 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
26 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
27 Translation sourced from: L. Samosata, The Works of Lucian of Samosata tr. H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler (Oxford, 1905), p. 130.
28 Samosata, The Works, pp. 130–1.
29 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
30 A. de Santa Cruz, Crónica del Emperador Carlos V (Madrid, 1922). Horn, Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen, pp. 177–9.
31 Santa Cruz, Crónica, p. 263.
32 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
33 Santa Cruz, Crónica, pp. 267–8.
34 Santa Cruz, Crónica, p. 267.
35 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
36 K. van Mander, Schilderboeck (Haarlem, 1604).
37 Santa Cruz, Crónica, p. 256.
38 Santa Cruz, Crónica, p. 259.
39 Vermeyen’s Juego de Cañas is in Drayton House, Lowick, and the preparatory drawing is held in the Cabinet des Dessins, Louvre Museum (a juego de cañas is a military game played with sticks). These images represent festivals staged in Toledo in 1539 in honour of Empress Isabella of Portugal (1503–1539). See Horn, Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen, pp. 25–6.
40 Patrimonio Nacional (Madrid), PN,TA-13/1-12.
41 R. Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals, 1450–1650 (Berkeley, 1985), pp. 7–11 and 75–9; L. Dunbar III, ‘A Rediscovered Sixteenth-Century Drawing of the Vatican with Constructions for the Entry of Charles V into Rome’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, vol. 23, no. 2 (Summer, 1992), pp. 195–204.
42 C. Robertson, ‘Il gran cardinale’: Alessandro Farnese, Patron of the Arts (New Haven and London, 1992).
43 Mitchell, The Majesty of the State, pp. 151–74. See a brief description of Charles V’s entries into Rome, Sienna and Florence in Ordine pompe, apparati, et cerimonie, delle solenne intrate, di Carlo V Imp[eratore] sempre aug[usto] nella citta di Roma, Siena, et Fiorenza (Florence, 1536). This book can be accessed on the British Library’s Renaissance Festival Books online (http://special-1.bl.uk/treasures/festivalbooks/BookDetails.aspx?strFest=0106).
44 S. Édouard, ‘Argo, la galera real de Don Juan de Austria en Lepanto’, Reales Sitios: Revista del Patrimonio Nacional, 172 (2007), pp. 4–27. A replica of this galley is exhibited at the Museo Marítimo in Barcelona.
45 M. Bernal Rodríguez (ed.), Juan de Mal Lara: Obras Completas II (Madrid, 2005), pp. 169–515 (p. 182).
46 Bernal Rodríguez, Juan de Mal Lara, p. 184.
47 The series was to decorate the walls of Winchester Cathedral for the wedding, however, the tapestries were ultimately exhibited in London, see: J. Pascual Molina, ‘Porque vean y sepan cuánto es el poder y la grandeza de nuestro príncipe y señor. Imagen y poder en el viaje de Felipe II a Inglaterra y su matrimonio con María Tudor’, Reales Sitios, 1987 (2013), pp. 6–25.
* Jeremy Roe initially translated this chapter from Spanish. Laura Fernández-González completed further editions and the translation of additional text.