2015_2_Lozano

Cristina Bravo Lozano

Madrid as Vienna, Besieged and Saved.

The ceremonial and political dimensions of the royal cavalcade to Atocha (1683)*

 

This paper focuses on the festive practices in the Spanish court and the diplomatic problems of etiquette and personal position in the planta of the procession that emerged in relation to both the Count of Mansfeld, imperial ambassador, and the Cardinal-Nuncio Savo Mellini. It also examines the opposition of the royal authorities to any kind of “innovation,” in the ceremony, the different interpretations of the image of Carlos II, and the political discourse of this public cavalcade to the Royal Convent of Our Lady of Atocha. The ceremonies were used to celebrate and elevate the position of this king, who had not taken part in the victorious siege of Vienna. An analysis of the celebratory representations allows one to establish an interpretative framework in which to consider the political functions of the rituals surrounding concerning the triumph of the allied Christian armies over the Turks. The symbolic language of the festivities, which included visual images, the meaning-laden choreography of the events, and the composition of works of imaginative literature, was intended to emphasize the majesty of the Spanish monarch, his devotion to the Christian faith, and the tremendous debt of thanks he was, implicitly, due.

 

Keywords: cavalcade, diplomacy, ceremonial, Ottomans, Madrid, Vienna, Carlos II, Count of Mansfeld, Savo Mellini.

 

From the Turkish camp, in the very tent of the defeated Vizier Kara Mustafa, the king of Poland Jan III Sobieski announced to the Marquis of Grana, General Governor of Low Countries, that his victory was the opposite of a departure “in silence” or “disappointing unjustly to the common people of Christianity.” On September 12 1683, the coordinated military intervention of the imperial, Polish and Lorraine armies forced the Ottoman army and Hungarian rebels to abandon the siege of Vienna.1 The newsletters disseminated word of the liberation of the city to all European monarchies and republics. The shared success was celebrated with luminaries, religious processions and various forms of rejoicing.

This singular triumph meant the retreat of the Sublime Porte from the Austrian territories in the face of determined action by the allied powers. The aid to the imperial capital, begun earlier in the summer of that year, served as an incentive to intensify the joint military interventions against the Turks. With the liberation of one of the main threatened bastions, the Christian princes started to recover territories and consolidate this geostrategic space. The religious significance and subsequent political implications of this success strengthened the emperor’s authority as defender of the Catholic faith in Central Europe and the Balkans. One of the repercussions of this was that Leopold’s prestige eclipsed that of Carlos II: the emperor now stood as the secular sword of Catholicism, while the Spanish monarch represented the main branch of the House of Habsburg, the dynasty to which both sovereigns belonged.

The public procession of the Spanish king through the streets of Madrid to the convent of Atocha was a majestic event the function of which was to reinforce the political discourse of the monarchy. This paper offers an analysis of the ritual and courtly ceremonial programs that were used by the parties to commemorate the Turkish retreat from Vienna. Thus, they are studied the effects and the diplomatic interests of the participants in this most solemn cavalcade as reflected in the controversies over etiquette generated by the Count of Mansfeld, imperial ambassador, and the Cardinal-Nuncio Savo Mellini. The examination of baroque language and the symbolism of the iconographic program stress the celebrative messages and the ideals they advanced. These symbolic expressions were intended to reinforce specific meanings of the Carolinian crown at the delicate moment of conjuncture of 1683.

“De este menguante, no es fácil que sus Lunas tengan creciente.” Reception of the News and the First Manifestations of Celebration

The gazette Nuevas ordinarias de los sucesos del Norte published the extraordinary news from Flanders, together with two other letters sent by the aforementioned Polish king. It communicated the Christian triumph to Pope Innocent XI, accompanied by the captured Ottoman banner, and the Venetian doge.2 In the Spanish court, there was an avid interest in the news and a public expectation for further information about the course of events. As of September 1683, a range of notices about the progress of the campaign was received. Thus, an enormous amount of information emerged in the proliferation of “true” accounts of events, the regular publication of newsletters and a panegyric literature dedicated to the siege which extolled the glorious actions of the Christian heroes.3 The void left by La Gazeta ordinaria de Madrid, which had been discontinued after the death of Juan José of Austria, created a demand for other “media outlets” and channels of information providing news on a variety of political topics and developments in European conflicts.4 In a number of different editions, the Nuevas ordinarias set out the events of the Austro–Turkish war in great detail. These accounts constituted a sort of proto-war journalism in the last decades of the seventeenth century.5

Yet, paradoxically, as the advances of the Christian flag against the Crescent Moon became known, the Spanish monarchy found itself at a crossroads. Carlos II was the “Catholic king” and a member of a dynasty committed to a religious cause. As such, he might have been thought of as destined to take part in the “crusade” of his time. However, the military realities in the Southern Low Countries, threatened by the expansionist designs of Louis XIV, limited his capacity for maneuver to purely symbolic participation.6 Under these conditions, the contribution of Spain to this confessional counteroffensive was limited by the resilience of the “Flanders wall” and the necessity of sending soldiers to defend it. Thus, Carlos II could only contribute with a pecuniary assistance of 125,000 escudos to the supply of materials, the maintenance of allied troops, and saying of prayers and masses for Christian success.7

After the siege, and despite the military circumstances and the perennial shortages affecting the royal finances, the Madrid court enthusiastically partook in the celebrations and demonstrations of delight that were held in the main European cities. The first festivities occurred on October 2, following the arrival of the Burgundian Jean-Claude Prudhomme, who announced the victory to the king. This cavalry captain had previously been sent by the Marquis of Grana to the imperial army with the aim of informing him of the “end-point of the battle.” By informal arrangement, this initiative by the General Governor provided an almost immediate account of events, faster than the postal service. According to different accounts, the messenger returned to Flanders the very night of the liberation of the city. Without delay, the marquis sent him on, with the imperial news, from Brussels to Madrid.8 Upon arrival, this extraordinary emissary met the Duke of Medinaceli, the king’s first minister. Afterwards, he was dispatched to the king, who was returning from a journey to the countryside.9

The notice of the lifting of the siege of Vienna spread like wildfire through courtly circles. On receipt of the happy news, Carlos II went in search of his two queens, Maria Luisa of Orleans and Mariana of Austria, who now resided in the convent of Atocha. During this time, the palatine rooms and the royal antechambers were filled by “lords and the nobility, who out of curiosity and the desire to assure themselves of the truth of the news, had gathered together without having actually been eligible for any congratulatory office.” The news also quickly spread to the streets, where no one seemed inclined to follow custom and wait for the official announcement. With an outpouring of festive pleasure, information regarding the success was received with great joy and praise. The climate of opinion had been created in the course of the previous weeks by the reports and newsletters that had been printed, which had fed popular clamor. Many subjects expressed their joy by running to ring village church bells and disseminating news to the adjoining settlements. Balconies and windows were suddenly lit up by torches and candles as mute voices made manifest the “faith, glory and indisputable conviction found in the hearts of Spaniards.” Bonfires were lit in the squares, sometimes fueled with belongings taken from neighbors who destroyed their own “possessions as they leapt into the night.” Fireworks were set off and shotguns were fired into the air, so that “Madrid seemed Vienna, besieged and saved.”10

These first demonstrations of delight, which lasted for some three days, were not echoed in the royal households. The absence of any public sign of festivity and the retreat of the royalty after the initial celebrations in the palace gave an indication of the official stance. Without any discussion of the news carried by Prudhomme, the desire for royal prudence complied with the customary practice of waiting for the imperial gentlemen or a letter with the formal announcement of the news from Austria. This decision silenced courtiers and contained the enthusiasm of the people of Madrid, despite the fact that the missive sent by Leopold I was intercepted at Bayonne.11 Twenty-one days later, the much anticipated letter was finally received in the king’s palace. Immediately, Carlos II commanded three days of official celebrations and festival bonfires, beginning on Saturday 6 of November, and announced a royal cavalcade through the streets of Madrid, to be held on Monday 8.12

 

 

Ceremonial Controversies Surrounding the Ritual Accompaniment: Diplomacy, Planta and Etiquette

The traditional style of the Madrid court for demonstrations of religious fervor to commemorate the triumphs of the House of Habsburg decreed that the Spanish monarch would proceed through the streets before the public to the Convent of Atocha.13 The organization of the ceremony represented a solemn ritual for the monarchy, centered around Carlos II and his pleiad of ministers and palace courtiers, a combination of royal power and sacred values, and accompanied by the singing of the Te Deum hymn. The Viennese celebration aimed to strengthen the image of the sovereign through the political and religious elements expressed in the royal cavalcade. The triumph thus was reconfigured and claimed as his own or, alternatively, as one belonging to a shared Habsburg dynastic identity and mission. It emerged as a favorable opportunity to undermine or at least counterbalance the popularity that Leopold I had won as he had come to be seen as the leader of Christendom and also to stress Spanish preeminence and the links between the branches of the Habsburg House.14 The projection of Carolinian magnificence would transform this splendid parade into a spectacle with which to express symbolically the majesty of the Spanish king to his subjects and, indeed, the other European representatives.

The procession on horseback portrayed the court system as a baroque theater.15 As a commemorative festival it was conceived as open to popular participation. This was a way for the monarchy to legitimate and integrate in the same celebration the different members of the body politic and the public of Madrid. As part of an extensive itinerary, the cavalcade would pass by distinguished spaces which underlined the attendance of the people.16 This deliberate rejection of the concept of a hidden majesty, an idea expressed by the monarchs in a number of ceremonies celebrated in the Royal Chapel, was intended to reinforce the authority of the sovereign through an extraordinary occasion of collective festivity.17

During the ritual, the exaltation of royal dignity and the political meaning of the festival were made explicit in its arrangement around Carlos II, who emerged as the central axis of the cavalcade.18 The ceremonial traditions and the rigidity of palace etiquette determined the forms and order of the courtly accompaniment and the duration of the procession. The component parts were arranged according to their hierarchy and social position.19 This ritual codification of prestige meant that the planta of the entourage (the specific order of the participants, which was regulated by the code governing such ceremonies) gave symbolic and public expression to the hierarchy of the various political circles.20 In a culture which valued appearance, in which the place that someone held in the royal parade represented a definite sign of socio-political status and personal distinction, it was necessary to have strict and clear regulations in order to prevent any controversy over protocol.21

These rules and the royal decisions, which enabled ambassadors of chapel to convene, did not prevent bitter disagreements, which began with a remonstrance from the Cardinal-Nuncio Savo Mellini, the Count of Mansfeld, ambassador of the emperor, and the French envoy, the Count of the Vauguyon. These complaints concerned their position in the entourage, which they saw as an affront to their prerogatives and standing. Taking the disputes over the cavalcade of 1678 on occasion of the surrender of Messina as the basis for their arguments (the first time that Carlos II had been seen on horseback in public), the foreign ministers found cause to justify their complaints about their respective locations in the planta.

As of his consecration as cardinal, the nunciature of Savo Mellini encountered a variety of problems over ceremony and etiquette in the royal celebrations.22 The interest provoked by his diplomatic participation worried the nuncio with respect to his place and influence in any intervention and the “custom” that he would be expected to enforce. Moved only by the aim of clarifying his position, he requested that he be shown the plans for the entourage. He warned his court intermediary and the chief chamberlain of the Queen Mother, the Marquis of Astorga, that the planners of the ceremony should consider not only his status as a representative of the pope, but also his high ecclesiastical position.23 He thus attempted to prevent the appearance of the “irregularities” which had obliged the monarch to order that in the future, in the course of festivities involving a royal procession on horseback the ambassadors should form a separate body.24 In similar terms, but in conversation with the conductor of ambassadors Juan de Idiáquez Isasi, Mansfeld also asked to be shown the planta. However, Idiáquez was unable to give it to him, stating it was not yet available and he could not provide it without a royal order to do so.25 Apart from this, there was no controversy regarding the order of the carriages of the ambassadors in respect to that of Juan José of Austria, as had been the case in Messina during a previous dispute over precedence.26 Rather, the complaints came up in relation to the coach of chamber and of the monarch himself. As the Constable of Castile, Íñigo Melchor Fernández de Velasco y Guzmán, put it, the carriages “form an inseparable body and all of them [must] go for the service of his royal person and all are necessary.”

Given these arguments over the cavalcade, the council of State discussed the qualms presented by the nuncio and Mansfeld, to which were added the complaints presented by Vauguyon, the French ambassador. The counselors were unanimous in their refusal to show them the planta. The Constable contended that it brought “demasiada y poco decorosa satisfacción”. It was a matter that belonged properly to the royal household and any novelty in the matter was regarded as a potential source of conflict. Etiquette had to be defended. For his part, the Marquis of Astorga fully understood the intentions of Mellini, which had been communicated to him in an informal conversation when the news of Vienna had arrived. Deeming it dangerous to trust Mellini on account of his well-known shrewdness, the aristocrat recognized that the nuncio only would yield if his coach proceeded directly behind that of the king. However, the other foreign ministers, in particular Mansfeld, argued that the cardinal-nuncio should serve as the voice of everybody on account of his double condition as prince of the church and representative of the papacy. Vincenzo Gonzaga added, after having spoken with the imperial ambassador, that he was not very convinced he should be behind the cardinal. Considering these observations, the Count of Oropesa concluded that their places should be explained to them in detail and that they should know the rank afforded to their rivals, “with whom they compete so that they do not fail to understand this in the procession.”27

While the decisions of the counsellors were pending, Mellini offered an explanation to cardinal Alderano Cybo, secretary of pontifical State, of how he had conducted himself in the matter. He had adopted two parallel approaches to negotiation. On the one hand, he raised his complaint with Astorga; and, in turn, he discussed the matter with both Cardinal Primate Luis Fernández de Portocarrero and Mansfeld, deciding “that they would have to undertake these offices separately.” The Frenchman Vauguyon joined them in this. He was interested in finding out about discussions over the planta. Likewise, it seems that the nuncio sounded out Portocarrero and proposed a prospective agreement to him. The concurrence of both cardinals in the religious functions caused certain problems concerning the question of their precedence.28 Mellini noted that the archbishop of Toledo was recovering from an illness at the time and contended that he should be excused from participation in the ceremony. Instead, he suggested that he be entrusted to preside over the ceremonies to be held in Atocha. In view of the difficulties, the Castilian cardinal decided to exempt himself, and he retired to the country. Thus, the nuncio remained as the only candidate to celebrate the Te Deum. The veiled suggestions of the secretary of the royal chamber, Sebastián de Vivanco, persuaded him to recommend an improvised solution, “it being fitting that I take part, or at least that I represent the [papacy], because any other solution would be an insult to His Holiness.”

For the reasons set out above, another problem emerged: the position of Juan Gaspar Enríquez de Cabrera y Sandoval, Admiral of Castile and master of the king’s horse, and the constable of Castile, chief chamberlain. In his own words, the pontifical legate explained the negative response to the counselors as an indication of the fact that they did not want to “go against these principal lords.”29 However, in the Council of State the question of the royal procession and the respective places of each of the participants within it were again discussed. This debate concerned a plan that had been drawn up. It was decided not to show this draft proposal to the ambassadors (Fig. 1).30

At the same time, the location of the offices of the house was not set down. In order not to spend more time on the question, the recommendation of the ministers was to announce it to the ambassadors individually. Sticking to etiquette, they were allocated the same places that they would have had in a procession on foot, while the members of the royal household took up their positions according to their posts and their length of service. The carriages would form an indivisible body, following those of cardinals and ambassadors, in compliance with their rank of precedence. To follow any other plan, the Admiral argued, “would be to risk casting into doubt what they know or what they want to give to understand that they do not know.”31

Another delicate point, and cause of diplomatic discontent, was the entry and mounting of horses in the palace hall. According to the etiquette of 1650, in this part of the palace only the horse of the king and the mount of the master of king’s horse could enter.32 This rule was clearly codified in the court ceremonial regulations. A discussion was begun in the Council on how to respond to their proposals about the planta. In order to “have less reasons for controversy,” it was convenient to do this in writing. Thus, in his resolution, the sovereign determined that

 

the cardinals have to enjoy the same place in this royal procession that they have held in those on foot and the ambassadors are going to adopt the position that rightly befalls them behind my royal person in an equal queue. To the master of the king’s horse and chief chamberlain I have given commands concerning what they should do [in this matter]. The coaches of my person and family have to form a body and proceed united, without interruption, and these must be followed by the cardinals and ambassadors, to whom we should respond with news of my resolution in the form that the Council believes best, anticipating that in the hall of the palace there should be no more horses than those by my royal person and the mount of my horse master, as is the style and as etiquette decrees.33

 

Astorga, Gonzaga and the Marquis of Balbases transmitted this decision to the nuncio, the imperial ambassador and the French minister.34 The strict, narrow margins of the order did not make these representatives particularly happy, and they vented their doubts regarding it, according to the historical records of the nunciature.35 Both Mellini and Mansfeld responded by exhorting the Council and Carlos II to examine the planta “set out in [the] paper of [a] geographer.” These responses revealed their particular interests in the function, as well as their concerns about the nature of the plans and their disregard for historical precedents, as they understood them.

The cardinal analyzed how, if his position was the same as in processions on foot, he should have to move just a step behind the royal person. With the difficulties already encountered and the handful of changes made by the king in their favor, he proposed that he himself celebrate the mass in Atocha. This would be a role in line with both his ecclesiastical status and diplomatic character. His informal influence in the court was made evident on November 4 on the occasion of the festival held in El Retiro to celebrate the king’s saint day. Mellini dealt with the royal officials hoping to secure the right to celebrate the liturgy of thanksgiving. After representing his case to the Duke of Medinaceli, he “thanked him for sending the file and for responding to me that I could celebrate this function and that the Lord Patriarch would be sent to invite me.”36 With this decision, which was formally communicated by Antonio de Benavides, the dispute with the cardinal-nuncio was resolved without damage to his prerogatives.37

For his part, Mansfeld justified his decision to request the planta “for a fixed and reliable rule” regarding how he was to conduct himself. He wanted to know his position and to understand those of the other of ministers, “so the difference of the others would alter the meaning of mine.” He also made clear his disagreement with his being granted only limited access to the palace hall and presented a certified document belonging to one of his predecessors, dated 1657. It indicated how the legates led their horses “very close to the place where the king mounts his horse” and that they alighted next to the door of Atocha, not in the street, as the courtiers did.38 This testimony acquired more weight in an incisive discourse. The determination to “maintain the representation of the emperor, your uncle and my lord,” in his prerogatives and the fact that Leopold I was one of the leaders of the siege of Vienna led the ambassador to remind the Spanish how “everything results in the grandeur and greater glory of His Majesty [Carlos II].”39

Referred again to the Council of State, the problem was resolved by the king and the ministerial organism did not permit any more discussion. The counselors rejected the validity of the records, which indeed had remained unknown to them until then. Moreover, the Constable stressed how Mellini and Mansfeld were wrong in their proposals, not Vauguyon, who had not made any other contention on this matter. In his vote, he made no effort to disguise his annoyance: “the matters of the royal house belong only to the knowledge of the bureo and deliberations of Your Majesty, which he has ordered be viewed in the Council to remove any doubt and keep them recognized with this honor.” Considering the etiquette, the other ministers agreed with him, and they proposed to Carlos II that it was not necessary to add anything to the existing decrees so as not to provoke new pretensions, since “there [would be] nothing worse than to halt the plan that has been established by [submitting it to] the judgement of nobodies,” meaning figures with no say on the matter.40 Taking into consideration the prospective problems, they thus decided that the cavalcade would be celebrated without the assistance of the cardinals and ambassadors and thus without them having to bother with any alterations in these matters, as the Admiral observed. Having renounced his prerogative of master of the king’s horse in favor of Medinaceli, he proposed that a new planta be fixed for the future.41

Carlos II was convinced by this reasoning, so the arguments over the procession were concluded. No additions were made and the royal opposition to any alteration was communicated to the ambassadors.42 The aristocratic and diplomatic ethos having been questioned, Mellini, Mansfeld and Vauguyon felt that their place in the planta somewhat undermined their status, as did the order of the coaches and the entry into the hall. However, the validity of the etiquette and the stylized ceremonial praxis in the Spanish court was of more significance than the complaints of the European ministers who had been invited to the function. Their presence at the festivities was not required, although they gave more luster to a ritual in which the main actor was to be the “victorious” Carlos II on horseback.

Although Mansfeld eventually declined to participate in the procession, he considered his absence enough to repair the damage that he felt had been done to his diplomatic standing. On the morning of Sunday 7, he made his public entry in Madrid. From the old residence of the imperial legates, the minister traveled to the Buen Retiro, where he had his official audience with Carlos II. The accounts tell of how the count was received according to the royal protocol, “with signs of his true love for the august blood of the lord [Leopold I] whom he represented.”43 The intervention of Vauguyon in the dispute was indirect and circumstantial, following the endeavors of the imperial representative and the nuncio to put more pressure on the king. In the last moment, however, he decided to excuse himself from the celebration and, apparently, he attributed the failed diplomatic initiative to the separate negotiations undertaken by Mellini, which meant that the ambassadors did not act as united body.44 However, in the letter with which he informed Louis XIV of the organization of the cavalcade, he admitted that did not involve himself decisively in the diplomatic debates because he had not taken part in the negotiations from the outset and he lacked orders from Paris on how to conduct himself in this matter.45 Unlike his colleagues, Mellini believed that it was beneath him to officiate over the religious function in Atocha, so “one hour before the start of the cavalcade, he passed through all the streets through which the [royal entourage] had to pass, accompanied by a large entourage.”46

Riding to Atocha: Iconography and Ostentation of Austrian Maiestas

With certain wit, the poet José Pérez de Montoro described the courtly feast of that Monday in one of his works. He observed that, “from Madrid they tell, how they went / to Atocha with elegance, / giving thanks for the triumph, carrying / calzas atacadas / and in this applause / men went without them / very atacados.”47 The absence of cardinals and the refusal of the diplomatic corps to participate in the cavalcade deprived the ceremony of much of its splendor and caused great consternation in the court.48 At two o’clock, six bugles and kettledrums announced the emergence of the royal entourage, as etiquette dictated.49 Together with his cohort of courtiers, Carlos II, dressed in a rich embroidered garment “in the usual custom,” began his parade with gallantry and vigor. He left the royal palace on a magnificent Andalusian mount named Quijarudo.50 With great pomp, he was accompanied by the Duke of Medinaceli, master of the king’s horse, on his right hand side and the Constable of Castile, chief chamberlain, to his left. They rode a short distance behind the king. The prime equerry, Pedro de Leyva, count of Baños, proceeded on foot and close to the person of the king.51 In his delineation of the royal outing, Bernardo de Robles, a servant of Queen Mariana, defined it as a “circular table,” meaning the royal entourage was composed of the Spanish and German guards, two majors of House and Court (Juan Antonio de León and Manuel de Arce), gentlemen of the Royal Bedroom and de la Boca, three secretaries of State (Joseph de Veitia, Crispín González Botello and Manuel Francisco de Lira, who held a prestigious position in the ceremonial space that, until then, had been occupied only by an aristocratic elite), Grandees of Spain according to their position within this hierarchy, and others lords and nobles of the first rank.52 Following the planta, a number of “carriages of respect” accompanied the sumptuously decorated royal coach and its symbolic portrayal of the “Sun of Spain,” the lions of the monarchy and both of the crowns which Carlos wore, the first denoting his status as king of Spain and the second his title of “emperor of America”.53

This spectacle of the court coincided with the feast day of the Santi Quattro Coronati. Thus, the exaltation of Christian unity found physical expression in the representation of the four tiaras: the pontifical tiara of Innocent XI, the imperial tiara “who has played the greatest role in this scourge”; the Polish tiara was located at the exit to the Plaza Mayor and alluded to in the portrait of Jan III Sobieski; and the Spanish tiara, “column of the faith.”54 Though he had not actually taken part in the campaign, the representative culture and rhetoric of the images lauded Carlos II as the “victorious” king, thus explicitly including him as a protagonist in these narratives. The visual reading of gestures and the court system were intended to legitimize his authority and strengthen his political position in Europe. For instance, over the main door of the church of El Salvador linen representations of Felipe IV, Mariana of Austria, Carlos II and Maria Luisa of Orleans were hung, and on the door of the Atocha’s college the portrait of the Virgin, “patron saint of the monarchy,” was placed. It was guarded by a representation of the pope and the monarchs of Spain at the time.55

The politicization of this laudatory feast was also intended to win the hearts of the king’s subjects.56 The intervention of the highest courtly circles in the plans for the festivities was designed to direct the popular jubilation in favor of the dynasty and its prestige. The active and noisy participation of the people in the royal functions was accompanied by joyous demonstrations and reverential allusions to the monarch.57 According to the accounts, the streets echoed with harmonies, the sounds of oboes, and the applause and the cheers of subjects, “who were keen to see such a great monarch, their king and natural lord; [these people] were not few in number and filled many streets, and they were not averse to [running around] to catch a second glimpse of His Catholic Majesty, even if this made them hot and sweaty.”58

With this opulent display of courtly representative culture, the streets and squares of the city were embellished in a manner that harmonized well with baroque decorative models. The attraction of this sensationalist iconographic program was clear in the draperies and images hung from balconies and illuminated with torches. In the palace’s square, “tapestries depicting the battles of the unconquered Carlos V were displayed.” This was a series of representations depicting his campaign in Tunis, a powerful reminder of the operations of the king-emperor against the Ottoman Empire in the Mediterranean and an event that was intimately related to the first siege of Vienna of 1529.59 The palace of Mariana of Austria was also covered for this function with “an intense light of gold.” According to the plans, the royal parade would stop in front of this spectacularly-adorned building. From one of its balconies, the queen mother and the Queen Maria Luisa waited to review Carlos II on horseback, “tribulando both their hearts before the eyes of Carlos, which defeated the soul.”60 Accounts also described how the church of Saint Mary of Almudena resembled a sky, and the square of the Villa was a paradise of taffetas and tapestries.61

The spectacular nature of the ornamental program that decorated the royal route was accompanied by “inventions of fire” of the merchants of the Gate of Guadalajara and the castle and pyrotechnic machines of the Tower of Santa Cruz which, in addition to being adorned with banners and flags, boasted a statue of the Hungarian “rebel” Thököly that was set aflame in the night. The following day the same procedure was repeated with a portrayal of the vizier, who went up in flames in Postas street.62 These events were accompanied by temporary constructions, such as the hill of flowers provided by the council and the town gaol, where a number of prisoners were released as a result of the general pardon issued by the king to commemorate the success.63 Musical compositions, dances and theatrical pieces were performed on different stages across the city. To this end, platforms were erected in specific places where entertainment was arranged for the crowds while they awaited the arrival of the king. The rhetoric of these representative tools and cultural mechanisms was used by the royal court as a means of persuasion. They stressed the imago of the prince and his deep religious zeal. They extolled the virtues of the Pietas, and Habsburg devotion to the Christian faith was highlighted along the route of the cavalcade.64

The destination of the entourage was the convent of Atocha, the traditional center of public devotion and a point of reference in the ideology of Spanish sovereigns for the expression of their dynastic and religious values.65 Within this festive milieu, the courtly ritual of thanksgiving was displayed in the Te Deum, the central feature of these festivities. Intoned by Mellini and accompanied by musicians of the Royal Chapel, this hymn conferred even greater solemnity to the liturgical celebration. The armed uprising of Vienna, the grandeur of the dynasty and the political power of Carlos II were all celebrated with prayer, music, fervor, and pomp. After the ceremony had come to a close, the king came back to the palace following the same itinerary. In line with royal instructions, these festivities, with their clearly structured temporal and spiritual dimensions, concluded with bonfires and fireworks in the palace square.66

Publishing and Court Epithets on the “Great Lion of Spain”

In his prologue to El sitio de Viena, Pedro de Arce referred to the popular acclaim in Madrid for the success of the allied armies. He also described some aspects of the cavalcade of November 8. In a dialogue, he used three anonymous characters to express how “Everybody comes to the Palace, then the king goes out to the chapel, / because it begins with the worship / his religious happiness. / Other.- He is also going about the streets / to be at the front of the day / that the Sun should illuminate the hills, / just as he inspires hearts. / Another.- Go out, and we will see him on horseback, / which is the required outcome, / that he who was born to the throne / holds the success of the See.”67

On December 22 (coincidentally the queen mother’s birthday), the companies of Manuel Vallejo and Fracisca Bezón, la Bezona, presented this play in the Golden Chamber of the Royal Alcazar.68 The use of the theater as an expression of power and a reflection of the political society was recognized. Arce himself must clearly be interpreted in the context of these mechanisms.69 Author of a variety of literary plays and publications, knight of Santiago, councilor of Madrid and aposentador of House and Court, he was designated to write a festive comedy dedicated to Mariana of Austria.70 The historical nature of a celebrative play, composed ex professo and set in the present-day, determined its contents and final form. It commemorates Christian triumphs that had happened only two months earlier and provided the title of the composition. Given the proximity of the events discussed by characters both historical and fictional, the comedy was developed around three journeys and was accompanied by a prologue, two one-act farces and a dance ending in a feast. Reproducing the events that taken place in Vienna in great detail upon the stage, the play was performed over the course of two days, and the playwright was widely praised for his great success in framing the narrative.71

The storyline had an obvious propagandistic orientation, with the aim of showering praise on the royal figure. The author relates the imperial and Polish campaign in detail, using an epic tone and presenting the narrative as if it were a chronicle and also making use of the gazettes and letters that had arrived from Austria.72 In a panegyric and theatrical language, he involves Carlos II in the final triumph, including him in an allegorical manner as the character of Spain. In the prologue, Arce tries to link the Carolinian court to the events in Vienna and thereby demonstrate the centrality of the Catholic Monarchy in the defense of religion and the exercise of political authority. Despite his exiguous contribution to the war effort, Spain assumed the role of victor, sharing it with Germany. In the praises showered upon these figures, the playwright conferred upon the Spanish monarch a pivotal (purely metaphorical) role, and the writer even raised Carlos II to the same level as Leopold I. It underlined and reinforced the dynastic identification and the general projection of the Habsburgs as guarantors of Christianity. Thus, referring to the royal Household in an encomiastic manner, the Fame character asks itself: “Generous Spain? / Great Germany? My care does not like to find them together / because they are two united souls.”73

The link between the Spanish and imperial branches of the family was one of the distinctive aspects of the Madrid celebrations. The reasoning for the assimilation (or appropriation) of the achievements of the Austrian Habsburgs was imagined in the allegorical artistic representations that played out after 1683. In the anonymous painting La victoria de los aliados contra los turcos en Viena, a portrait of the actors who took part in the siege of Vienna, one discerns the figure of Carlos II (Fig. 2). According to the inscriptions, the king is the man wearing black, in the Spanish fashion, and kneeling in front of the Pope. Thus, following the traditional iconography of triumphs, he is portrayed as monarch victorious, presenting the Turkish capitulations to Innocent XI in place of the emperor, the Polish king or the Duke of Lorraine, also included in the scene but in secondary positions.

Literary works were also composed in which Carlos II was directly involved in the events of the victory over the Turks. His participation, indeed, was stressed in the introductory and contextual parts of different accounts presented in the public cavalcade.74 Laureate and immortal, the House of Habsburg was represented bearing the cross against the Sublime Porte. The contributions of the Polish army, to which this event “will give sacred renown,” and the Lorraine troops were not forgotten. Pride of place goes to the imperial eagle, which, having flown from its nest, wanted to search for another globe “because it would achieve this in two worlds.” With this poetry, Bernardo de Robles alluded to the dynastic unity between the branches of the House of Habsburg. In his discursive outline of the events, the author praised the pious figure of Carlos II, who would be remembered by History, while he congratulated the king’s uncle Leopold “in public festive digressions.” Thus, the unconquerable Habsburgs were presented and their successes were trumpeted.

The reputation of this lineage, which had been chosen by God (as a range of other prints clearly suggested), came from the long service of its members “eulogizing the faith and defending the Church against both Heretics and Turks.” The victory of the emperor and the allied powers in Vienna had prompted the Catholic king to emphasize the assistance he had allegedly given, since it was a military conflict with extremely pronounced political and religious connotations. In allegorical terms, “when the empire was more distraught, [the great lion of Spain] win not consolation but rather the applause of Fame.”75 The Spanish king had provided neither material means nor soldiers, but rather had been able, merely with the power his religious zeal and the claws of his faith, to finish off the Ottoman enemies and deal them a mortal blow. The heightened panegyric of the anonymous author of this Verdadera y nueva relación drove him to recreate an apparent confrontation that allowed him to locate the Habsburg of Madrid among the array of heroes, and this decision can be seen as a reply to the logical process of extolling Leopold’s virtues in works published across Europe.76

In the symbolic discourse about the royal emblem, a metaphorical mention of Carlos II as “our Spanish sun” in Salida en publico invites us think about the usefulness of iconographic language in shaping political reality in this period (Fig. 3).77 The wars of Louis XIV, le Roi Soleil, can be understood in relation to his policies of territorial expansion across the continent.78 His advance in the north and up to the Lombard wall increased his hegemonic position to the detriment of the interests of the Spanish monarchy. The war of Luxemburg and the French threat that hung over the southern Low Countries conditioned the Carolinian participation on the Austrian front. However, the refusal of the Bourbon monarch to become an ally of the emperor, Poland and Lorraine or to provide any kind of support for their counteroffensive against the Ottoman Empire contrasted with his pontifical title of the Most Christian King.79 His decisions led to the neutrality of France, an ambiguous posture towards an enemy of Europe that earned Louis XIV the name “the most Christian Turk,” as had happened with Francis I and his alliance with Suleiman the Magnificent in the 1530s and 1540s. This name was coined by anti-Bourbon pamphleteers and seriously undermined the image of the French Sun King.80

The political use of such epithets was a crucial element in influencing public opinion regarding the absence of the Catholic king from one of the main campaigns undertaken in defense of Christendom. At the same time, some elements of this court propaganda set critics against Louis XIV at the beginning of a new period of conflict, the Guerre des Réunions. Nevertheless, the power of words and their aesthetic purpose made the different celebrations a spectacle of political and religious dimensions “that exceeded in many circumstances the Roman triumphs.”81 Salida en publico concludes with the following sonnet:

 

To the dawn of Atocha lit up, / to the queen sovereign of Heaven, / Carlos, king and Sun (with human form) / to give thanks ventured out (happy outing!) / With happy soul and pure goodwill, / august nobility, between Christian loyalty, / for the fright and terror of the Ottoman, / Victory acclaimed with united glory. / In plain black with reddish hairs, strong Atlas, / of confidences and tormented enthusiasms, / so relieved that it is enjoyed / another invincible and inimitable Alexander, / to whom the Crescents their death provide / anticipate without defense, in their care.82

 

Conclusions

The celebrations of thanksgiving for the end of the siege of Vienna were shaped by the paradigm of the baroque festival in the Madrid court. With its traits and idiosyncrasies, it became one of the most distinctive and memorable courtly spectacles in the history of the Spanish monarchy. The political significance and religious connotations of the Te Deum celebrated in Atocha were proportional to the “media” interest that preceded the war against the Ottoman Turks. News, notices, periodical gazettes, accounts and panegyrics circulated in great numbers in the royal city. Attention focused on the siege of the imperial capital, awaking political concern and the curiosity of private readers of these concise snippets of news. Its spectacular emergence in the late months of 1683 caused an informational phenomenon that increased its impact on public opinion with the campaigns of Hungary and the capture of Buda three years later.

With a ceremonial program heavily shaped by the etiquette of the court, the function, form or method of the eventual festivities corresponded to established models inherited from previous decades. In essence, the public image of the king did not differ from images projected at other times. The significance of the celebrative model transcended the palatine cannons of behavior and the rules of protocol. The effective application of these regulations did not prevent it from causing a diplomatic controversy over different aspects of its codification, however. The pretensions of the Cardinal-Nuncio Savo Mellini, the Count of Mansfeld, and the French Count of the Vauguyon reaffirmed the validity of the style and the cultural uses of the court. Planta, coaches and palace hall offered vindications, cited examples based upon precedent, or offered documentary proof of the validity of their claims. In each case, personal aspirations and the aspirations of respective embassies were set out. On the one hand, the nuncio avoided the problem of precedence with the Cardinal Portocarrero and he acquired a pontifical office by own petition as an honor for which he seemed to have negotiated since the beginning of the dispute. Mansfeld, for his part, referred to the rhetoric of the House of Austria as a means of preserving his prerogatives and participating in a festivity the basic purpose of which was, after all, to commemorate the success of His Caesarean Majesty. Remembering his absence, and trying to prevent any further inconvenience during the preparations for the Buda cavalcade, he warned that “for being so dissonant that in this function, [and] most exposed to the view of the world, [this ceremony] lacks a clear representation of the emperor.”83 The case of the Bourbon envoy was more peripheral, and his offices did not have the presence or significance of the others, principally due to the relatively low level of commitment of Louis XIV to the Austro–Turkish war and Vauguyon’s limited interest in the matters under discussion. Considering the respective positions of these ambassadors as a form of currency in political influence, the Council of State did not accept any of their judgments. In many discussions during the preparations for the celebrations the ministerial organism referred back to the established etiquette and traditional thinking, focusing on the exaltation of the majesty of Carlos II and therefore recasting the victory over the Turks as a shared triumph that belonged to the armies of Spain.

The spectacular stages, machines and ornaments that decorated the street of the villa therefore constituted a laudatory iconographic program set out in strategic public spaces. The sensationalist and sumptuous array extolled the magnificence of the king, strengthened the dynastic element and values, and thereby underlined the gratitude due to Carlos II for having defended Christendom. The second public procession of the monarch on horseback highlighted the political dimension of a ceremony with religious connotations that transcended the sacred rituals to offer different interpretations of the original success: the defense of Vienna. They each betrayed one basic intention: to celebrate the victory of the dynasty, and with the mediation of power to strengthen the image of the Spanish sovereign and his authority as the head of the main branch of the House of Habsburg in a Europe that was applauding the “unconquered” Leopold in Vienna. The courtly theatrical effects of the accounts represented an attempt to attenuate the increasing influence of Vienna and re-equilibrate the political reality by presenting Carlos II as the triumphant Catholic king and victorious Habsburg.

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* This study was undertaken within the framework of the program Juan de la Cierva-Formación (FJCI-2014-21225) and the project of the Dirección General de Investigación del Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad, Gobierno de corte y sociedad política: continuidad y cambio en el gobierno de la Monarquía de España en Europa en torno a la Guerra de Sucesión (1665–1725) (HAR2012-31189). It has also benefited from help from the project of the Deutscher Akademischer Austausch Dienst (DAAD), Die Kunst der guten Regierung in der Spanischen Monarchie (Projekt 57050251). I must thank Phillip Williams for the English translation of this paper and Luis Tercero for his suggestions. For additional perspectives and ideas on Buda’s cavalcade, see Cristina Bravo, “Celebrando Buda. Fiestas áulicas y discurso político en las cortes de Madrid y Londres,” published in Vísperas de Sucesión. Europa y la Monarquía de Carlos II, ed. Bernardo García and Antonio Álvarez-Ossorio (Madrid: Fundación Carlos de Amberes, 2015), 354–71.

Abbreviations: AGS (Archivo General de Simancas, Simancas), E (Estado); AHN (Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid), Cód. (Códices); and ASV (Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Vatican City), Arch. Nunz. Madrid (Archivio della Nunziatura di Madrid) and Segr. St. Spagna (Segreteria di Stato. Spagna).

Fig. 1 AGS, MPD, 7, 161. Diagram of the cavalcade that accompanied the king on the day of his public procession. Madrid, s. f., October 1683.

Fig. 2 Anonymus, Alegoría de la victoria contra los turcos en el asedio de Viena de 1683. Museo Nacional de Artes Decorativas, Madrid.

Fig. 3 Pedro de Obregón, Carlos II y su madre ante el Alcázar. Engraving to illustrate the work Nudrición Real, of Pedro González de Salcedo (Madrid: Bernardo de Villa-Diego, 1671).