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The Wedding Processions of the Dukes of Braganza (1633) and Medina Sidonia (1640): Power and Fiesta in Portugal and Spain

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Bulletin for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies
Journal of the Association for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies
Volume 40 |Issue 1 Article 3
2015
'e Wedding Processions of the Dukes of Braganza
(1633) and Medina Sidonia (1640): Power and
Fiesta in Portugal and Spain
Luis Salas Almela
University of Córdoba, lsalmela@uco.es
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Recommended Citation
Salas Almela, Luis (2015) "=e Wedding Processions of the Dukes of Braganza (1633) and Medina Sidonia (1640): Power and Fiesta
in Portugal and Spain," Bulletin for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies: Vol. 40 : Iss. 1 , Article 3.
Available at: h?p://digitalcommons.asphs.net/bsphs/vol40/iss1/3
'e Wedding Processions of the Dukes of Braganza (1633) and Medina
Sidonia (1640): Power and Fiesta in Portugal and Spain
Cover Page Footnote
=is article is a result of the project HAR2010-17797 >nanced by the now defunct Spanish Ministry of
Science and Education. Spanish version by Ruth MacKay.
=is article is available in Bulletin for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies: h?p://digitalcommons.asphs.net/bsphs/vol40/
iss1/3
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
44
The Wedding Processions of the Dukes of Braganza (1633)
and Medina Sidonia (1640): Power and Fiesta in Portugal and
Spain
Luis Sales Almela
As dawn broke on January 12, 1633, near the Portuguese-Castilian border
not far from Badajoz and close to the spot where Charles V’s (1500-1556)
emissaries in 1526 had received the emperor’s new wife, Elisabeth of Portugal
(1503-1539),
1
the splendid entourage led by the most excellent duke John of
Braganza (1604-1656) came to a halt. The reason was the delay in the arrival of
Luisa Francisca de Guzmán (1613-1666), daughter of Manuel Alonso Pérez de
Guzmán (1579-1636), duke of Medina Sidonia, to whom the Portuguese duke had
been married by proxy. The bride’s entourage took so long to arrive that at around
nine in the morning, Braganza (fig. 1), by that time tired of waiting, decided to
cross the border and travel a few leagues into Castile to meet Luisa and, with her,
the most excellent Gaspar Alonso Pérez de Guzmán (1602-1664), the count of
Niebla, the bride’s brother. Crossing a border without express royal permission
was not illegal but nor was it something commonly done by aristocrats. Seven
years later, on Easter Sunday, that very same Gaspar, by then the new duke of
Medina Sidonia (fig. 2), traveled to collect Juana Fernández de Córdoba (1611-
1680) from her parents’ home. The bride, whom he already had married by power
of attorney in Madrid, was the daughter of the marquises of Priego.
Three chronicles of those two marriages and of the festivities with which
they were celebrated constitute the basis for this article. The significance of the
sources is the fact that they were carefully planned and displayed as acts of power
by two outstanding noble families. This article explores the forms of symbolic
expression used by the nobility during the vitally important ceremony of
marriage. As I look at the festivities and pomp in both processions I will consider
celebration as an illusory space or an ideal representation of a given social order
displayed in a public space.
2
In that sense, though the language in these texts was
full of references to the world of chivalric culture, as also was true with court
fiestas, my hypothesis is that the rituals reflect a specifically seigneurial symbolic
code. Above all I wish to point to a festive world in seigneurial courts parallel to
that of the royal court, which has been nearly ignored in the historiography. This
1
Antonio J. Morales, “Recibimiento y boda de Carlos V en Sevilla,” in La fiesta en la Europa de
Carlos V (Madrid: Museo del Prado, 2000), 27-47.
2
Here I am using the term following Diogo R. Curto, O discurso politico em Portugal (1600-
1650) (Lisbon: Centro de Estudos de História e Cultura Portuguesa, 1998), 143-155.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
45
neglect is related to the scarce attention given to the Iberian festive tradition in
general and to all that occurred away from the royal courts.
3
My objective is not
to study the “circulation of culture” — using Teofilo Ruiz’s words — but to
concentrate on two significant case studies. My aim is to go beyond the general
idea that all baroque festivities were more or less structured around royal court
practices and that seigneurial festivities were simply imitations, on a smaller
scale, of court ceremony.
4
Though clearly I do not wish to deny the influence of
courtly festivities or the power of the monarchy in the early modern period, I
nonetheless do want to suggest that the central role of the crown did not eliminate
all other festive events. In other words, I want to draw attention to other spaces
and sites of power, albeit fragmented power, that wished to claim legitimacy and
whose symbolic languages deserve historiographic attention.
The processions in our cases are manifestations of a specific legitimizing
discourse rooted in two paradigmatic examples of noble power, each driven by
desires and needs. With that in mind, I will examine four symbolic elements in the
three texts, referring to wealth, the social justification of seigneurial power,
recognition by other social powers, and magnanimity. The ritual served not only
to distinguish one noble family from the rest in terms of opulence and splendor, it
also presented a highly favorable image of the family itself vis-à-vis the only
temporal power to which it was subservient, that is, the crown. From that
perspective, it would be right to call the rituals ceremonies of state, albeit a
seigneurial state, and not simply entertaining ceremonies.
As Richard Trexler pointed out, ritualized languages embody a tension
between novelty and what already exists.
5
Ceremonies as elaborate as these,
programmed by two such outstanding, powerful families, must be understood as
political actions in and of themselves that in turn could make political tensions
manifest. Given the outstanding role of both dukes in their kingdoms, I suggest
that an analysis of the concrete, ritualized language deployed by Braganza and
Medina Sidonia should be linked to specific, political meaning. In other words, I
am studying the ritual as an idealized construction of a social order seen through
the prism of concrete seigneurial figures with very high aspirations. The social
3
Teófilo F. Ruiz, A King Travels. Festive Traditions in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), positions 249, 268 and 1553.
4
Four other recent works on fiestas in early modern Spain: María L. Lobato and Bernardo J.
García García (eds.), La fiesta cortesana en la época de los Austrias (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla
y León, 2003); José J. García Bernal, El fasto público en la España de los Austrias (Seville:
Universidad de Sevilla, 2006); Bernardo J. García García and María L. Lobato (eds.),
Dramaturgia festiva y cultura nobiliaria en el Siglo de Oro (Madrid: Iberoamericana-Vervuert,
2007); and Carmen Sanz Ayán (coord.), “Informe: Fiesta y poder (siglos XVI y XVII),” Studia
Histórica. Historia Moderna 31 (2009): 11-152.
5
Richard Trexler, Public Life in Reinassance Florence (New York: Academic Press, 1980), 331-
364.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
46
order is thus a reflection of those aspirations. Taking into account the events of
1640-1641, the ritual potentially could construct reality; at the very least, it could
influence it.
The two seigneurial houses involved in these weddings were conspicuous
examples of noble power. The ducal houses of Braganza and Medina Sidonia
were at the apex of the social pyramid in their respective kingdoms, Portugal and
Castile. Their ancient lineages and unquestioned prestige, along with their vast
jurisdictional holdings, bestowed upon these titled aristocrats, simply for having
inherited their ducal estates, a political role that went far beyond their local
region, extending to the crown and even throughout Europe. There were
additional similarities between the two noble houses, such as the proximity of
their estates, on either side of the Guadiana River, and the family ties that had
linked them since the early sixteenth century. Both houses formed part of the two
monarchies whose overseas expansion in America, Asia, and Africa was the
earliest and the most successful. And these two imperial structures, the
Portuguese and the Castilian, were themselves integrated in one enormous,
composite political body: the Hispanic Monarchy.
In Portugal not only were the Braganzas the only lords able to entitle other
individuals, a truly exceptional power anywhere in Europe, but they had claimed
the Portuguese throne in 1580 after the extinction of the house of Avis with the
deaths of King Sebastian (1554-1578) and King Henry (1512-1580). As it turned
out, the successful claimant to the throne of Portugal and its empire was Philip II
(1527-1598), whose list of crowns, titles, and seigneurial lands already was
immense. Though the Braganzas submitted to the sovereignty of the Hispanic
Hapsburgs, the fact that they had legitimate claims to the throne made the
Portuguese dukes very special vassals indeed.
6
The dukes of Medina Sidonia, meanwhile, whose seigneurial power since
around 1300 had been based in Andalusia, in the sixteenth century had managed
to add what we might call an imperial aspect to their influence. In part this was
the result of the Indies trade, a highly favorable historical circumstance for them
being that the maritime and commercial routes tying Castile with its vast
American possessions literally crossed the Medina Sidonia seigneurial lands
(señorío). If one crossed the Atlantic and wanted to reach Seville the
theoretically exclusive seat of the commercial route one had to sail up the
Guadalquivir River, whose mouth was situated at the capital town of the Medina
Sidonia señorío, Sanlúcar de Barrameda. As a result, the dukes constructed their
own complex fiscal structure to take advantage of the trade, the benefits of which
6
Mafalda Soares da Cunha, A casa de Bragança, 1560-1640. Práticas senhoriais e redes
clientelares (Lisbon: Stampa, 2000), 13-44; Leonor Freire Costa and Mafalda Soares da Cunha, D.
João IV (Lisbon: Temas e Debates, 2008), 50-57.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
47
they largely invested in service to the monarchs through military protection of the
ships as they crossed the ocean.
7
Beyond these circumstances, however, the 1630s marked a key period in
the struggle for European hegemony. The Hispanic Monarchy of Philip IV (1605-
1665), whose prime minister was the Count Duke of Olivares (1587-1645), was
trying desperately to hold on to its dominance throughout the succession of
conflicts that became known as the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648). After a series
of victories in the early 1620s, the growing number of forces allied against the
two branches of the Hapsburgs the imperial house in Vienna and the Hispanic
in Madridmeant the king had to demand more and more of the territories that
made up his dominion.
8
Olivares resorted to authoritarian means to extract men,
money, and supplies for the war, causing hostility even within the traditionally
loyal crown of Castile.
9
These efforts had a significant impact on the nobility. In
the midst of these circumstances, France whose chief minister was Cardinal
Richelieu (1585-1642) declared war on Spain in 1635, making a grave
situation even worse for the Hispanic Hapsburgs.
Their positions at the apex of their respective social pyramids meant the
dukes of Braganza and Medina Sidonia had to accept commitments and
responsibilities to maintain order in accordance with their privileges. These
obligations went beyond rhetoric; they were what was expected of such powerful
lords. Not only were they expected to exercise power; it was assumed they also
could influence how the court’s dictates would be implemented in regions over
which they had direct seigneurial authority. In this regard, both Medina Sidonia’s
and Braganza’s relationship with the Olivares regime was smooth, at least on
paper, until 1637-1638. At that point, a revolt in southern Portugal, which
extended to the regions of Alentejo and the Algarve, forced Olivares to ask the
two dukes for their assistance in putting down the protest movement, which
threatened to quickly turn into a more general challenge to Philip IV’s authority in
Portugal. Both men, on either side of the Guadiana border, firmly supported the
king.
10
7
Luis Salas Almela, Medina Sidonia: El poder de la aristocracia, 1580-1670 (Madrid: Marcial
Pons, 2008), 143-150; Luis Salas Almela, The Conspiracy of the Ninth Duke of Medina Sidonia
(1641). An Aristocrat in the Crisis of the Spanish Empire (Boston-Leiden: Brill, 2013), 11-26.
8
John H. Elliott, Richelieu y Olivares (Barcelona: Crítica, 1984), 151-187; John H. Elliott, El
conde-duque de Olivares. La pasión de mandar (Barcelona: Crítica, 1991 [1985]), 489-581.
9
Beatriz Cárceles de Gea, Fraude y administración fiscal en Castilla. La Comisión de Millones
(1632-1658): Poder fiscal y privilegio jurídico-político (Madrid: Banco de España, 1994); Juan E.
Gelabert, La bolsa del rey. Rey, reino y fisco en Castilla (1598-1648) (Barcelona: Crítica, 1997),
81-126; Juan E. Gelabert, Castilla convulsa (1631-1652) (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2001), 179-236.
10
Elliott, El conde-duque, op.cit, 508-519; Rafael Valladares, Epistolario de Olivares y el conde
de Basto (Badajoz: Diputación de Badajoz, 1998), 67-90.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
48
Nevertheless, it is also true that the two dukes were growing increasingly
impatient with royal demands. Medina Sidonia in particular had complained for
quite some time that his support for crown activities all along the Andalusian
Atlantic coast and beyond, including in North Africa and the Indies route, had not
been sufficiently recognized or compensated.
11
Moreover, he felt that his
authority was being undermined by certain royal institutions, such as the
Admiralty of Seville (created in 1625 with important jurisdiction in overseas trade
which affected Sanlúcar), and by attempts by the house of Arcos to split apart
Medina Sidonia’s military district by creating another military jurisdiction in his
estates. In reply, the duke was trying to shore up his authority and prestige
through a series of initiatives that were beginning to bear fruit, including
extensions of military competency and patronage over religious orders in
Andalusia.
12
The young duke of Braganza, meanwhile, since the death of his
father had moved his house in a decidedly imperial direction, probably motivated
by signs that his family's political reputation had fallen off somewhat.
13
But their dissatisfaction was not much different from that of other
Castilian and Portuguese seigneurial lords whose responses to royal demands just
made the wars longer, despite the resources they invested. In July 1640 the Revolt
of the Catalans broke out, potentially opening the doors of Catalonia to France,
which presented a serious threat to Castile, the political and strategic heart of
Philip IV’s monarchy. It was in this context that the more or less generic
complaints turned concrete. Then, in December 1640, Portugal rebelled, putting
the duke of Braganza on the Portuguese throne.
14
Nine months later, in August
1641, Medina Sidonia led a failed coup d’état of August 1641 against his king,
which ended up costing the Pérez de Guzmáns the jewel of their crown, the town
of Sanlúcar de Barrameda, and an irreversible fall from their previous primacy
among Castilian grandees.
15
With Philip IV seriously weakened, political
realignments took place in both very frustrated ducal lineages, with very different
results. Marriage between members of social forces as powerful as the families
under discussion here was a matter of seigneurial estates but also, using the term
as it was used then, a matter of state. Among the principal means with which
monarchs tried to control their nobility was the obligation to obtain a ruler’s
11
Salas, Medina Sidonia, 273-348.
12
Salas, Medina Sidonia, 309-348.
13
On the Braganza's change of direction see Costa and Cunha, D. João, 76-102; and Mafalda
Soares da Cunha, “Estratégias matrimoiais da casa de Bragança e o casamento do duque D. João
II,” Hispania 216 (2004): 39-62.
14
Rafael Valladares, La rebelión de Portugal, 1640-1680. Guerra, conflicto y poderes en la
Monarquía Hispánica (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León, 1998), 19-110; Costa and Cunha, D.
João IV.
15
Salas Almela, Medina Sidonia, 395-408; Salas Almela, The Conspiracy, 142-150.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
49
consent for marriages. Monarchs wished to avoid the accumulation of too much
power, resources, or territories by any one dynasty, and they also wished to ensure
that marriages would not negatively affect the royal government. Marriage, the
linkage between two lineages, was quite clearly a political act.
So the staging of these acts of marriage, with all that that implied
regarding legitimation and propaganda, must have appeared appropriate to the
noble hierarchy.
16
Two elements stood out in both festivities: the new link
between two seigneurial families, and the lay rite of the exaltation of power
expressed through symbols of a certain political language. Dynastic union, in fact,
constituted one of the most basic elements of traditional European celebrations.
17
The deployment of a language of power with a family motif can be seen as the
strategic self-affirmation of a lineage at a given moment, and in this article I will
seek common characteristics as well as contrasts in the language of power and its
meaning as it was deployed in both wedding celebrations. The very fact that the
celebrations were commemorated in written, published documents makes the
chronicles their last act. Their purpose was to empower and communicate the
effects of the celebrations.
18
Both seigneurial houses opted to celebrate the marriages with processions
and a fiesta lasting several days. These entailed cycles including various
subgenres of baroque festivities ranging from the procession per se to entrances
into cities, and a wide array of secondary activities including bullfights, cañas
(mock battles on horseback), masked balls, fireworks, festivals of lights, etc. The
first set of texts describes the duke of Braganza’s journey from Vila Viçosa to
Elvas and then to the border with Spain. The accounts whose authors we know
were by either Alonso Chirino Bermúdez (ca. 1600-ca. 1650), who at that point
had worked for the dukes for at least seven years in various judicial and financial
capacities, allowing him to be a close witness and a member of the procession; or
16
JoM. Nieto Soria, Ceremonias de la realeza: Propaganda y legitimización en la Castilla
Trastámara (Madrid, Nerea, 1993), 15-26. This study does not distinguish between ceremonies of
legitimation and propaganda, probably because it associates the concepts of ideology and
propaganda, which does not make much sense for the medieval and early modern world.
17
Edward Muir, Fiesta y rito en la Europa moderna (Madrid, Editorial Complutense, 2001), 30.
18
There are two copies of Relassao do Cazamento do duque de Bragança, João Segundo, in the
Biblioteca Nacional de España (BNE): ms 18.633, no. 53 and ms 2.364. The latter is credited to
António de Oliveira de Cardonega. Two additional accounts of the fiesta can be found in the
Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal (BNP). The first, by Diego Ferreira, is called Epitome das festas
que se fizeram no cazamento do Serenissimo Principe Dom João, deste nome Segundo, published
in Évora in 1633, BNP, RES 58 P. The second, Templo da memoria. Peoma epithalamico, by
Manuel de Galhegos, BNP, RES 216 V, currently is unavailable to researchers. An additional
account of the Medina Sidonia wedding was written by Alonso Chirino Bernárdez, Panegírico
nupcial. Viaje de D. Gaspar Alonso Pérez de Guzmán, duque de Medina Sidonia, en las bodas con
Doña Juana Fernández de Córdoba, published in Cádiz in 1640, BNM ms. 18.635, no. 18.
Referred to hereafter as Relassao, Epitome and Panegírico.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
50
Diego Ferreira, a servant of the Braganza family.
19
Nonetheless, Chirino adopts
an ambiguous position; at times he refers to himself as a member of the entourage
while at others he presents himself as a mere spectator, making his account typical
of the genre of relaciones de fiestas.
20
In so doing he gives up his privileged
position in order to reinforce the idea of a spectacle open to general
contemplation.
The inclusion of details in the three accounts that violated protocol would
seem to reinforce the idea that they were reliable accounts. Stylistic usage also
made them similar, perhaps giving the appearance that expressive forms were
more stable than in fact they were. One element found in processional accounts
from at least the mid-sixteenth century onward is the tendency toward atonal
narrative,
21
descriptions of people and objects with little mention of action as a
way of making established social hierarchies visible.
22
The authors’ attention was
focused on the splendor and the symbolic world displayed before them. But the
lack of action also helped emphasize elements that were unusual, that is,
exceptions to the expected formalism, such as Braganza’s decision to cross the
border.
Grandeur and pomp: the procession
One of the principal goals of a procession is to point to and visually
demonstrate difference and hierarchy in a ceremonial space that is codified and
symbolically concordant with the didactic function of the baroque fiesta.
23
The
ability of visual symbols to transmit political messages had been recognized and
consciously used for many years.
24
The choice of a procession as the anchor of a
particular celebration thus meant an expensive outlay of resources and a large
19
Chirino says that he participated in the procession in the party of servants who “for reasons of
age or impediment” rode in carriages. Panegírico, f. 149v. Ferreira is mentioned by Monique
Vallance, A rainha restauradora. Luísa de Gusmão (Lisbon: Círculo de Leitores, 2012), 36.
20
See the introduction to José Simón Díaz, Relaciones de actos públicos celebrados en Madrid de
1541 a 1650 (Madrid: Ayuntamiento de Madrid, 1982), VII-LIV.
21
José M. Díez Borque, “Los textos de la fiesta: ritualizaciones celebrativas de la relación del
juego de cañas,” in Pierre Córdoba et al. (eds.), La fiesta, la ceremonia, el rito, (Granada:
Universidad de Granada, 1990), 181-193, 186.
22
Da Cunha, A casa de Bragança, 153.
23
John Chroscicki, “Ceremonial Space,” in A. Ellenius, ed. Iconography, Propaganda, and
Legitimation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 193-216, 193-194. On the importance of
visual elements in Portuguese political discourse in the early seventeenth century see Curto, O
discurso, 12-13.
24
Roy Strong, The Cult of Elizabeth: Elizabethan Portraiture and Pageantry (Los Angeles-
London: University of California, 1977), 118. This author cites a member of Henry VIII’s court
who recommended that the king break with Rome by using festivals and visual symbols: “Into the
common people things are sooner enter by the eyes then by the ears; remembering more better that
they see then that they hear.”
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
51
audience that included the lower classes. The display of heraldic symbols, with
the family’s coat of arms visible everywhere, underlined to the audience that
power was not simply a matter of estate but of family, or lineage. Both the
protagonists and the audience were framed by this duality, which integrated the
particular within the community. For Medina Sidonia and Braganza, public
ostentation was something of a family tradition; the Andalusian nobleman wished
to amaze a region, Andalusia, that was accustomed to being amazed by noble
opulence, most notably by the Medina Sidonias themselves. Braganza's fiesta in
1603 to receive the new duchess, Ana de Velasco, mother of duke D. João, was
still remembered in Portugal.
25
The image portrayed in the sources we are using is one of wealth beyond
the wildest dreams of common people. Clothing played a key role.
26
The
association of certain ornaments (precious stones, pearls, gold, and silver
embroidery) with the wealthiest social groups was not just a symbol, it was the
concrete and visible illustration of nearly unlimited economic means,
27
so much
so that some accounts of festivities confined themselves almost entirely to
describing these elements.
28
That is not the case with the texts we are analyzing,
but they illustrate how personal adornment identified the distinction of the wearer.
Luxury was visible not only in one’s clothing; one also was supposed to
be accompanied by a certain number of retainers and servants who themselves
exhibited their social standing and bestowed splendor upon the procession and,
therefore, upon their lord. The fact that our chronicles note that many members of
the dukes’ retinues were dressed in their own clothing but that all were very
elegant, rather than pointing to limits in the lord’s generosity is a way of
indicating the high social position of the members of the seigneurial household as
an institution. This, along with the internal order of the procession itself, reflected,
according to the chroniclers, the “majesty” of both dukes.
Certain elements of the processional organization are repeated in both
cases. Both processions were led by that classic referent of Fama, musicians
playing wind instruments
29
. Pack animals followed, carrying the travelers’
25
The reception for Philip IV and the count-duke of Olivares in Doñana in 1624 included an
opulent little city that was built in the middle of a forest in just a few weeks. See Jesús Mercado
Egea, Felipe IV en las Andalucias (Jaén: Gráficas Catena, 1980). On the Braganza fiesta in 1603,
see Costa and Cunha, D. João, 58-59.
26
Even when the occasion called for nobles to be dressed in mourning, descriptions always
emphasized their accessories and trim (ribbons, chains, embroidery, and jewels). For example see
Simón Díaz, Relaciones, 294-302.
27
Díez Borque, “Los textos”, 187-189; Fernando Bouza Álvarez, Palabra e imagen en la corte:
Cultural oral y visual en el Siglo de Oro (Madrid: Abada, 2003), 69-88.
28
For example, Anonymous, “Memoria de la ida de la condesa de Niebla a su Casa”, 1555, BNE,
ms 20.262, N. 28.
29
Ferreira, Epitome, 14r.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
52
wardrobes, evidence of the lavish outlay and the lavish outlay to come. Chirino in
his Panegírico refers to one hundred and fifty mules “carrying His Excellency’s
dressing room, travel accessories, and servants’ clothing,” all covered with richly
embroidered fabrics decorated with the Medina Sidonia arms. The presence of all
this luggage was explained later on when he wrote that the duke’s servants
“changed their clothes every day.” In contrast, the duke of Braganza’s six mules
would appear paltry, but one must take into account that Elvas, where the
wedding was to take place, and Vila Viçosa, the capital of the Braganza estate,
were just a half-day’s journey from one another.
After the pack animals came the military companies, followed by the
carriage in which the dukes traveled. The carriage itself was an interesting
element, as in both processions it marked the limits of courtly space, an
ambulatory replica of the lord’s chamber inside of which rode the dukes.
Braganza used a Roman-style carriage, which was recognized and admired for its
luxury.
30
The inside of the carriage was thus the most honorable site in the
processions. The space around the carriage was organized symbolically such that
participants’ distance from the core of the procession reflected their importance or
precedence according to the ducal organizational flowchart. For example, the fact
that the duke of Braganza was accompanied in his carriage by his brothers Duarte
and Alexander can be interpreted as a message that they were the people closest to
him within the domestic hierarchy. So the functions assigned to each member of
the court by protocol also reflected the political balance of power among the
subgroups in each seigneurial estate.
31
Nevertheless, at times lords had to make themselves more available to the
public gaze. For those occasions, they rode beautiful horses from their famous
stables, making themselves the vivid image of noble values. This can be
understood as a sign of deference by noblemen toward those looking at them and
part of a studied act of self-fashioning. This public show of nobility is at that
moment directly expressed in their own image, the supreme form of personal
honor. Thus the duke of Braganza and his brothers left their carriage a half-league
away from Elvas to make their entrance into the town on horseback.
32
There
ensued a variation in the symbolic distribution of space, as the most distinguished
spot was to the right of the duke, which corresponded to don Fernando da Silva,
the city’s captain major, relegating the bishop of Elvas to the duke’s left
33
.
Similarly, Medina Sidonia entered Écija on horseback to the cheers of the crowd,
30
Ferreira, Epitome, 12v.
31
This is similar to the royal court; see Fernando Bouza Álvarez, “El espacio en las fiestas y en las
ceremonias de corte: Lo cortesano como dimensión” in Lobato and Bernado (eds), La fiesta, 155-
173.
32
The same distance was the minimum in royal receptions. See Ruiz, A King, position 2.851.
33
Anonymous, Relassao.
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which had asked that he make himself seen. Chirino’s combination of the
concepts of majesty and pleasure indicates a symbolic world in which equestrian
abilities were a metaphor for social discipline and the mastery of noble virtue, and
the horse was the symbol of the irrationality of the disorderly commoners.
34
Following the dukes’ carriages came the lords and hidalgos (fidalgos, in
the Portuguese case), whose names, honors, and posts were all listed in the
chronicles, which reinforced the entourages’ ties to their lords.
35
The seigneurial
domus comprised those who took personal and physical care of the duke, and their
presence should be seen as a reflection of the symbolic value of the duke’s body
as both a man and a lord.
36
Along with them came many other servants. The description of the
Braganza entourage in the Relassão is succinct, mentioning only twenty-four
chamber servants for the duke and thirteen “young hidalgos,” while Chirino’s
description is the most detailed. First, Medina Sidonia’s carriage was followed by
six more carriages carrying fifteen gentlemen and their servants who, for
whatever reason, needed to be transported this way. Then came the bulk of the
distinguished members of the entourage, on mule, accounting for a total of sixty-
six servants. Additionally, we get an early glimpse of the future duchess’s
household.
Some of the personages were there because they were Medina Sidonia’s
clients or associates from the more important royal cities near the seigneurial
estate. For example, we have don Agustín Adorno, a member of the Jerez city
council, who was particularly favored by the Medina Sidonia. There was the
Novela family, from Cádiz, several of whom appear listed in the account and who
held financial posts for the ducal house. In the case of Braganza’s entourage,
those who came from outside the territories or the administrative structure of the
house notably included members of the Elvas oligarchy. The case of the forty men
who accompanied Braganza was similar, though the accounts offer no details
about them.
34
Pierangelo Schiera, “Socialità e disciplina: la metafora del cavallo nei trattati rinescimentali e
barochi di arte equestre,” in Il potere delle immagini. La metafora politica in prospettiva storica,
(Bologna: Il Mulino, 1991), 143-182; Rafael Valladares, “El arte de la guerra y la imagen del rey:
Siglos XVI-XVIII”, in Salustiano Moreta et al. (eds), La guerra en la Historia (Salamanca:
Universidad de Salamanca, 1997), 163-189.
35
In Ruiz’s words, it “served as important additional tools of rulership.” Ruiz, A King, position
1.510.
36
Braganza took with him his chief cup bearer, an inspector (veedor), chief steward, meat carver,
and chamber secretary. From Sanlúcar, Luisa took with her ten ladies and eight maids. Relassao,
passim. Medina Sidonia took his chief butler, chief steward, the count of Niebla’s tutor, his chief
accountant, master of rooms (maestresalas), a chaplain, an alms collector, chief stable groom, two
“gentlemen of the golden key,” a page, two accountants, and a treasurer assigned specifically to
the journey. Panegírico, passim.
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At the back of both processions we find the servants of the servants,
pages, and lesser positions. Chirino speaks of “a multitude of pages ... numbering
one hundred, and more than two hundred and fifty servants of servants.” Though
the chronicler leaves some doubt as to the exact number of people in the retinue, it
appears there were more than five hundred. At the duke of Braganza’s wedding,
an occasion for both houses to show off, the duke of Medina Sidonia, the father of
the bride, organized a retinue to accompany his son and heir as he went with his
sister to the Portuguese border; this comprised two hundred and twenty-seven
people, all itemized by the anonymous chronicler at the end of his description of
the wedding, taking up one-third of the total text, [mientras Ferreira aporta una
cifra de en torno a los 200 hombres y mujeres de acompañamiento]. In short, the
orderly multitude of the retinue is hardly a minor matter. A large retinue reflected
the social status of its protagonist; the message of power and influence was
reinforced by the undeniable physical presence of the entourage.
37
The lord’s social function: judge and soldier
Along with images of wealth, the texts we are analyzing present a
complete staging of these great jurisdictional lords’ social function. In both
accounts, this is apparent in the inclusion of servants who held positions on the
estates and who accompanied the dukes.
The appointment of the dukes of Medina Sidonia as Captain General of
the Ocean and Coast of Andalusia since 1588 went far beyond mere decorative
ceremony.
38
Chirino’s attention to the military components of the procession,
starting at the front with the impressive armed guard of one hundred and forty
horsemen with lances adorned with banners, shows the importance of this aspect.
In front of the armed guard were three lancemen with bugles, yet another allusion
to the duke’s fame, in this case military. After the guards, flanked by riflemen,
came the company’s standard along with an image of the Archangel Saint
Michael and a third banner displaying the coat of arms of the company’s captain,
don Miguel Páez de la Cadena Ponce de León, a member of the military order of
Calatrava. In the rear, Pedro Casabante carried another standard “among forty
riflemen; it was embroidered with the royal arms, with gold ribbons along the
sides and the bottom, with two lesser crests, and the arms of His Excellency were
also embroidered in gold.” Clearly this standard was the most honored
iconographic symbol in the entire procession, glorifying the duke as ruler.
The structure of military functions reflected here, with the ducal house
holding a delegated post, raises the issue of the respective heraldic prominence of
37
See the fabulous description of the “parade of Fortune” in Luis Vélez de Guevara, El diablo
Cojuelo, (Madrid: Cátedra, [1641] 2001), 137-147.
38
Luis Salas Almela, Colaboración y conflicto. La Capitanía General del Mar Océano y Costas
de Andalucía (Córdoba: Universidad de Córdoba, 2002), 211-216.
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the Guzmán cauldrons and Castile’s castles and lions (fig. 3). Though it is true
that the company’s standard was an insignia given by the king to the duke for him
to take care of, it is also true that the protagonist of the procession was the
seigneurial power of the duke of Medina Sidonia. The goal was to present the
señorío as the bastion and protector of the kingdom of Seville. At the same time,
the duke as military authority was accompanied by interesting religious
references, including Saint Michael, associated with the company’s standard,
visually sacralizing the military procession and to some degree justifying the
existence of the captaincy itself as an advance guard against Islam. Taken
together, this underlined the two-way connection between monarch and duke; the
king relied upon the opulent house of Medina Sidonia, allowing the duke to
accumulate powers, in exchange for bestowing upon him great military
responsibility.
39
Reinforcing these symbols in key parts of the procession were military
officers attached to the captaincy and appointed by the duke. In the duke’s own
carriage there were three men with military posts. In addition, throughout the
procession, we encounter around twenty men with military posts along with a
large number of members of the military orders.
40
Although membership in the
orders at this time was largely a social distinction with scarcely any military
significance, the fact is that in a seigneurial estate that saw itself as the last border
between Christendom and Islam, the latter being represented principally by North
African pirates, the presence of these theoretical knights had definite symbolic
value.
41
Furthermore, in many cases membership in the orders was the result of
favors (mercedes) by Medina Sidonia for military services performed under his
command. Thus the duke displayed his identity as a soldier and as a promoter of
the military careers of his subordinates.
In Braganza’s case, military orders also had a notable presence, though the
military aspect as such was far less, in part because the duke at that point had no
specific military duties.
42
So the presence of the knights of the military orders in
his entourage was more a matter of social distinction, given that the encomendas
awarded by the duke mostly concerned domestic service and access to ducal
rents.
43
The difference lay in the way Medina Sidonia assumed and proclaimed
39
Salas, Medina Sidonia, 133-150; José J. Ruiz Ibáñez, “Repúblicas en armas: huestes urbanas y
ritual político en los siglos XVI y XVII”, in Sanz Ayán (coord.), “Informe”, 95-125, underlined
the symbolic importance of the military presence in municipal festivities.
40
There were eight from Santiago, four from Calatrava, one from Alcántara, and one from St.
John. Panegírico, passim.
41
Salas, Medina Sidonia, 243-256.
42
According to the Relassão, of the thirteen fidalgos accompanying Braganza, eleven were
members (comendadores) of the Order of Christ. Ferreira mentions forty “fidalgos comendadores”
appointed by the dukes of Braganza.
43
Soares de Cunha, A casa de Bragança, 28-29 and 312-331.
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his protective function, which finally was incorporated into the legitimizing ducal
iconography. Nevertheless, it is interesting to note the armed guards
accompanying the Portuguese duke; he was flanked by “twenty-four tedescos
around his carriage.
44
The tedescos were a military body associated with
Hapsburg ceremonies, and their use by the Braganzas was with the knowledge
and consent of the crown; the guards’ presence was a clear sign of social
distinction and symbolic proximity to the sovereign which, for a seigneurial house
with claims to the throne, had particular significance. However, the most relevant
idea that emerges from the presence of the tedescos is that, when necessary, the
Braganza house was attached to military duties in the kingdom of Portugal, as it
was the highest noble house in the realm, as the revolt in Elvas soon proved.
Hence, both cases show that military symbols in the retinues were not simply
rhetorical imitations of royalty but rather an appeal to the concrete duties of the
dukes corresponding to their outstanding position among the nobility.
In order to present a complete portrait of the señorío as an institution of
government, the jurisdictional functions of the lord of vassals had to be made
apparent. The inclusion of several of the dukes’ personal councilors was a way of
exhibiting that essential aspect of good government, the election of good advisers.
The accounts of Braganza's wedding make this element more implicit than
explicit, in contrast to Chirino, who includes more detail. In Medina Sidonia’s
wedding entourage in 1640, the most expressive moment of jurisdictional
representation came when the dukes returned to Sanlúcar, where a new procession
was assembled for the party’s solemn entry into the town. There, the original
wedding party was joined by representatives of the ducal territories to reflect the
towns’ obedience and respect for their new mistress.
45
Behind them came the
duke’s council, the final piece of this jurisdictional array.
The processional route through Sanlúcar included going under a triumphal
arch representing a pyramid with allusions to fame, rigged with fireworks, next to
which there was a castle, all surrounded by musicians playing wind instruments.
46
Approaching the ducal palace there was another arch on whose crest was a
44
Tudescos generally means Germans. Their use by Braganza was in imitation of Austrian
protocol; Soares da Cunha, A casa de Bragança, 153, 266n. They appear only in the Relassao.
45
The personification of the constitutive elements of a territory, associated with weddings, had a
long tradition in Europe. In Florence, for example, we find an early example with the wedding
between Cosimo I and Leonor of Toledo in 1539 in which the city and the towns ruled by the
dukes were personified in the cycle of festivities in honor of the wedding. Bonner Mitchell, Italian
Civic Pageantry in the High Renaissance: A Desciptive Bibliography of Triumphal Entries and
Selected Other Festivals for State Occasions (Florence: Leo S. Olchki, 1979), 50-54.
46
On this ephemeral art, see Alicia Cámara Muñoz, “La fiesta de corte y el arte efémero de la
monarquía entre Felipe II y Felipe III”, in Luis Ribot Garcia and Ernest Belenguer Cebria, eds.
Las sociedades ibéricas y el mar a fines del siglo XVI, La corte: Centro e imagen del poder
(Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Conmemoración, 1998, vol.4), 67-98.
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portrait of the duke himself shown pacifying the Portuguese town of Évora three
years earlier after it revolted. The painting (fig. 2) shows the duke on horseback
receiving the Portuguese authorities, who are on their knees as they offer him the
keys to their city. In this manner, the prestige and power exhibited throughout the
entire journey reached a sort of climax with the representation of the duke
fulfilling a military obligation which, in the case of the revolt of Évora, carried
with it the message of imposing order.
Finally, the following morning, the festive cycle ended with the entry of
groups whose participation until then had been minimal, including associations of
foreign merchants who lived in Sanlúcar, organized by country of origin, and the
principal religious orders, of which the dukes of Medina Sidonia were patrons and
benefactors. Both accounts leave the reader with the impression that the festivities
continued in subsequent days. Nevertheless, the fact that there are no details of
these more ordinary celebrations suggests that such displays on the señorío itself
were more frequent and not worthy of much attention.
Recognized power: reception and tribute
On February 28, 1624, the young Philip IV and his new first minister, the
count of Olivares (not yet the count-duke), made their entry into Seville. Along
with them came the marquis of Carpio (1598-1661) and the duke of the Infantado
(1555-1624), the latter as chief steward. The city council, despite the king’s
request to keep reception expenses down, had made sure the streets were newly
paved, the city clean, and the storehouses full. Certain sorts of festivities were
considered essential when the king visited; buildings were decorated, fireworks
were set off, and dance performances were held in his honor. Finally, there was
the official reception by the local judicial and political authorities, who were
followed by the militias of the city of Seville and of the province.
47
These
celebratory elements of royal authority were considered the minimum necessary
for receiving one’s lord. Minimum, given that the account describing them
continually laments the restrictions imposed by the king, as the city would have
been happy to make the festivities more lavish.
48
It is no surprise that Seville, one of the monarchy’s richest cities, would
aspire to offer the young monarch a sumptuous reception. Nevertheless, it is
noteworthy that this celebration of royal power was not much different than the
47
The order of the reception line was quite different when Philip II visited Seville in 1570, when
the city council was only sixth. British Library Add., 28.708, ff. 276r-280v.
48
Seville was notified of the king’s arrival on February 5, less than a month ahead of time. Lucas
García Picaño, Breve relación de la venida y recibimiento en Sevilla de Su Majestad el rey don
Felipe IV, (Seville: 1627), in Real Biblioteca III/6466. In any case, complaints over the tight
schedule may have been rhetorical, given that similar complaints were made in 1570 over Philip
II’s visit.
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celebrations the dukes of Medina Sidonia and Braganza received as they passed
through towns on their wedding journeys. They certainly were not much different
in terms of the symbolic language deployed. Processional itineraries (fig. 4)
reflected matters of courtesy and political relations with local authorities, and
hosting a festive retinue of this sort turned into an expensive obligation.
In the case of the duke of Braganza’s itinerary, there was not much choice
once it was decided that the bride would be received at the border near Badajoz.
The election of that site had a great deal to do with the comfort of the count of
Niebla, who had traveled from Madrid to represent his father in handing over his
sister. For Braganza, the route between his palace in Vila Viçosa and the border
offered just one possible stopping-off point, the city of Elvas, which therefore was
expected to receive the duke. As a first sign of recognition, one overlain with the
personal relationship of patron and dependant, eight gentlemen from Elvas had
gone first to Vila Viçosa to then turn around and form part of the ducal entourage
along its way. Second, the city’s political representatives, the city council, and the
royal delegates also participated in the symbolic recognition of the kingdom of
Portugal’s highest vassal by ritually greeting him on the outskirts of the city, an
act of perfectly choreographed protocol
49
. The distance that appears to have been
the most common for courtly receptions was half a league, which in this case
coincided with a village called Mesa do Rey.
Elvas was also the seat of a bishopric, and it was the bishop who was to
play the leading role. He offered His Excellency his cathedral for the wedding and
said he himself would officiate. The gesture was an act of deference for both the
duke and the bishop the offer for the duke, the acceptance for the bishop and
the bishop took charge of hosting and feeding the ducal retinue the only night they
spent in Elvas. The bishop also participated in the reception of the duke in Mesa
do Rey, where he went with three of his nephews along with sixty other noblemen
from the city.
The episcopal palace, whose lavish decorations for the occasion were
carefully described by the anonymous chronicler, was the center of nearly all the
wedding-related activities in Elvas, both when the duke stopped there previously
as well as on the wedding day itself. Nevertheless, the bishop was indisposed on
the wedding day and could not officiate. His illness, which perhaps was not
entirely a matter of chance, given the relative snub he had received at being
placed to the left of the duke as the latter entered Elvas, to some degree dampened
the festivities, which in any case already had been dampened by rain. At six in the
evening, the dukes returned to Vila Viçosa, where they and the inhabitants of the
surrounding villages celebrated the marriage for eight days. The Epitome reserves
49
Though there are small differences between them, the two chronicles of the Braganza wedding
(Relassao and Epitome) coincide in emphasizing the city of Elvas's reception of the duke.
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a leading role for the archbishop of Évora, whose presence in the Braganza palace
can be explained by his longstanding ties to the ducal house.
Meanwhile, Medina Sidonia also was received by local authorities a half-
league from the center of the royal towns he passed through. The ceremony was
repeated with some variations as to the participants, though the nobility and the
city councils were always represented, in part or in their entirety. The duke also
received military salutes in the towns he passed through in recognition of his role
as the region’s highest military authority. These honors took the form of gun
volleys and the formation of the local militia at the entrance to each town. The
militia also took on the functions of guardsmen outside the buildings where the
duke and his party were housed and in the various places throughout the towns
where His Excellency attended festivities.
In Écija, the most important town along the journey’s route, the reception
was especially splendid, with the royal governor (corregidor) himself coming out
to greet the duke. In return for this courtesy, the duke received him in his carriage
along with another gentleman from the city. Masked balls, theater, and fireworks
rounded out the evening’s entertainment.
50
There were more festivities when the
entourage returned to Sanlúcar. According to Chirino, the dukes observed the
festivities from the balcony of city hall, in the main square. A “sovereign canopy”
(dosel soberano) was installed to further delimit the space inhabited by the
dukes.
51
The canopy was a mark of honor typically reserved for the king, as the
highest civil power, and thus this iconography to some degree challenged the
crown by pushing the limits of the great Castilian seigneurial estates’ political
autonomy.
52
The Medina Sidonia procession was received in similar fashion in the
seigneurial towns it passed through. Nevertheless, Chirino makes two interesting
observations when describing the visit to Arahal, located in the lands belonging to
the duke of Osuna (1598-1656). He points out, first, that the town council and
nobility of the town went to receive Medina Sidonia as vassals of the duke of
Osuna. Second, he comments that the guests “were housed with unusual affection
by the town’s inhabitants, showing they were servants and vassals of their duke.”
This would seem to indicate that the difference between seigneurial and royal
towns was that, while in the latter it was the local authorities who were in charge
50
A play (comedia) was performed, and a boat was festooned with “great fireworks.” In addition,
musicians were situated beneath the duke’s balcony, and there were continual exhibitions and
fireworks. Panegírico, passim.
51
Covarrubias, in 1611, defined canopy (dosel) as “a curtain used for monarchs and then nobles,
and also in the ecclesiastical estate, among prelates.” Sebastián de Covarrubias, Tesoro de la
lengua castellana o española (Barcelona: Alta Fulla, [1611] 1998).
52
José M. Nieto Soria, “Propaganda and Legitimation in Castile: Religion and Church, 1250-
1500.” In Allan Ellenius, ed., Iconography, Propaganda, and Legitimation (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1998), 105-119, 111.
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of the reception, in the former either the duke gave the orders or his vassals
behaved according to what they thought the duke of Osuna’s wishes would be as
lord of Arahal.
Recognition and treatment by equals was another essential part of the
ceremony. When they arrived in the town of Osuna, once again there was a
reception a half-league away, but this time it was the duke of Osuna himself,
along with the duke of Lerma and the marquis of Peñafiel, who received Medina
Sidonia. They greeted each other standing, and Medina Sidonia then entered
Osuna’s coach, with the latter duke ceding the best seat to the former. When they
arrived at the ducal capital, the duchesses of Osuna and Lerma awaited them, and
Medina Sidonia visited with them. Osuna’s participation in the procession can be
seen as purely representational; there was no reason for it other than showing an
equal his friendship, economic power, and recognition. The chronicler also points
to the “demonstrations of great affection” by the town as a whole. The next
morning, Osuna offered to pay the salaries of the soldiers and the servants’
servants, which Medina Sidonia would not permit. Finally, Osuna and Peñafiel
accompanied the departing guests for a half-league.
Medina Sidonia at last met with the members of the house of Priego in the
town of La Rambla. Attending the encounter were the marquis of Priego (1588-
1645), the marquis of Montalbán (Priego’s son and heir, 1623-1665), and Father
Cañizares, rector of the Jesuit establishment in Sanlúcar, who had traveled to
Montilla to oversee the wedding arrangements. As he did in Osuna, Medina
Sidonia entered town in his hosts’ carriage, and when he reached the Montilla
palace the duke of Medina Sidonia greeted his host’s family members. As for the
wedding celebration itself, the chronicle is surprisingly brief and immediately
moves on to the fireworks. The duke and duchess spent the next day, a day of rest,
in the palace chapel. On the last day there was a masked ball, bullfights, jousting,
and just about every other element typical of baroque festivities. For the farewells,
there was a series of courtesies: the bride’s mother was driven a short way out of
Montilla, while the marquis of Priego went up to La Rambla. The bride’s brother,
the marquis of Montalbán, stayed on as host in La Rambla, where the retinue was
received with much pomp and then spent the night. The following day, the
marquis said his farewell, and Medina Sidonia traveled on to Écija.
Finally, the brilliance of the baroque fiesta required that the audience be
both moved and attracted by the displays and performances in honor of the visitor.
Despite the scant attention paid to commoners in the three texts, the
heterogeneous and scarcely-mentioned public whose absence from the text
marks a sharp contrast to the detail and categorization devoted to the noble
authorities was the ultimate object, after the personages immediately involved,
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of the entire celebration.
53
The chronicles use commoners as a symbolic
counterpoint of the ideal entourage an illusory image of harmonious political
order contrasting the ideal to the formless, varied, tumultuous, and unorganized
masses who nonetheless were admiring as the entourage passed by.
54
This
admiration, which the chroniclers take as a given, assumes an elementary form of
assimilation of the processions’ didactic message. According to Chirino, Medina
Sidonia’s journey attracted huge crowds that scrambled everywhere to get a
glimpse of the opulence going by, even on rainy days like the one when the duke
left Lebrija.
According to some historians, ritual entrances into cities by monarchs
implied a sort of mutual appropriation in which the king made the city his own
through his presence and through acts such as receiving the keys to the city, and at
the same time the city made the king its own, recognizing him and obeying him as
sovereign.
55
Obviously, in the cases I am presenting here, this rhetoric of
vassalage and sovereignty did not exist. But there was a sort of emotional
appropriation through the reinforced connections between the nobleman who was
solemnly received and the cities and towns that celebrated. The whole range of
possible connections that a nobleman might have with a place military
dependence, patronage, commercial relations, etc. were strengthened. One
should not forget that festivities in the towns were paid for by the towns
themselves, so the fiesta became a sort of common space shared by government
entities, in this case seigneurial and urban. This reinforcement gives meaning to
the elements shared with royal entrances in cities such as the reception at a given
distance from downtown, the gun salutes, the crowd, and the triumphal arches.
Yet there was greater flexibility in noble festive language, which was far less
ritualized than royal language and lacked uniform political meaning.
The fiesta: the magnanimous lord
Magnanimity is one of the qualities most commonly mentioned in
descriptions of nobility. Generosity, beyond the images of superfluous and
irrational spending that one finds in certain historical accounts, increasingly has
come to be interpreted as a sign of social distinction. Thus it is not surprising that
the image the great nobles offered of themselves during festivities included
elements showing that the honored lord was also fundamentally generous.
53
Years ago Roger Chartier in The Cultural Uses of Print in Early Modern France (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1987), 13-31- described the transition in France from the sixteenth
century, with celebrations in which royal processions interacted with the crowd, to the seventeenth
century, when the masses were reduced to passive spectators. See also Ruiz, A King, position 338.
54
Muir, Fiesta, 288.
55
María A. Pérez Samper, “Barcelona, corte: las fiestas reales en la época de los Austrias,” in
García (ed.), La fiesta, 139-192, 143; Ruiz, A King, positions 1.795 and 2.958.
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Let us consider for a moment to whom this generosity manifested itself
and what the hierarchy of magnanimity was. To begin with, protocol for the
handing over of brides called for the groom to give something of importance and
value to his future wife, and the present usually was somehow integrated into the
festivities. Thus the duke of Bragança sent Luisa an elaborate carriage in which
the future duchess would make her entrance into Portugal with her brother
56
.
Similarly, Medina Sidonia assumed the cost of the bride’s wedding dress during
the ceremony of the veil.
Generosity also was reinforced with presents for people beyond the
immediate family circle. In these cases, gifts could be seen almost as recompense,
albeit symbolic, for the recipient having participated in the festivities, according
to a careful protocol of gratitude. In the case of a churchman, the present might be
a valuable jewel, with no discredit to his position, and the jewel might even come
with the price mentioned. The social respectability of presents could be increased
by drawing attention to their symbolic value, such as their historical significance
or sentimental value to the lineage making the present, which transformed that
meaning into a present in and of itself. Thus the duke of Braganza’s greatest show
of generosity, despite some tension, was with the bishop of Elvas, to whom he
gave a gold chain that the duke himself had worn on his wedding day.
57
The
anonymous chronicler refers not only to the great workmanship and value of the
gold but he also said the chain’s symbolic importance was infinitely greater to the
Braganzas being that it had been a present from King Manoel (1469-1521) to one
of his sons when he married a Braganza.
However, equals in nobility and standing could not compensate each other
with jewels or money. The means of mutual recognition and gratitude had to be
more subtle and indirect, such as shifting generosity onto members of the
seigneurial household. One option was simply to give money or objects of value
to servants, as Braganza tried to do with the bishop of Elvas’s servants, according
to the Relassão. With similar intentions, Medina Sidonia, on his second day in
Montilla, asked for a list of the marquis of Priego’s servants, and to each one he
gave “a great number of thick and expensive gold chains and coins [reales de a
ocho] and even the lowest servants were given dazzling evidence of his
grandeur.” The dance of gestures could be reciprocated, as when Priego paid the
salaries of some of Medina Sidonia’s servants, the ones who had formed the
guards company and a host of lesser servants. Similarly, the duke of Osuna
56
This is highlighted in the Epitome.
57
Costa and Cunha point out that the two men's disagreements were used by some chroniclers to
explain the bishop's participation in the plot against D. João in the summer of 1641 after the
bishop had become an archbishop and João was king of Portugal. In Costa and Cunha, D. João,
84.
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63
offered, though the offer was not accepted, to pay Medina Sidonia’s servants’
salaries during his stay on the Osuna estate.
Another level of gifting can be seen with the musicians, actors, and other
active participants in the festivities who received signs of seigneurial gratitude. In
this case, direct payment reflected the nobleman’s taste, as he rewarded musicians
or bullfighters according to his artistic taste or the performer’s skills or bravery.
58
In some sense, the last layer of this sequence of gratitude lay in the general
enjoyment offered to everyone, including the common people, with the
celebrations, fiestas, and performances. Bullfights, dances, and fireworks were
open to anyone able to see them. Thus the multitude was allowed into the
concrete act of matrimony, showing once again that the lord of vassals understood
that he and his activities were both personal and public.
Particular note should be taken of the compensation given to two
individuals in gratitude for their efforts on behalf of Medina Sidonia: the duke
gave habits of military orders to don Diego de Guzmán, the corregidor of Écija,
and to Alonso de Zayas.
59
Such generosity was possible only because the king had
allowed the duke to make an occasional gift of these honors. Medina Sidonia’s
use of the privilege entirely undermined the purpose, which was to reward
military services performed under his command that were, by definition, services
rendered unto the king. In this case, however, the only thing justifying the duke’s
gift, which implied nothing less than the elevation of the recipients’ social status,
was collaboration in the exaltation of the duke’s own glory. Though the habits of
military orders had lost considerable value by 1640, they were still the first step
on the road to tax exemption (enjoyed by the nobility). In any case, by
appropriating these sovereign symbols, Medina Sidonia was indicating he was an
essential site of power in Lower Andalusia.
Conclusion
At the end of his account, Chirino says he was unable to figure out how
much Medina Sidonia’s display had cost, “because even those of us who were
there throughout it all cannot believe what we saw, such are the feats of this great
house, and even more those of this lord, beyond all belief and possibility.” This
way of impressing, of causing amazement in the reading public, was part of a very
concrete political sense of how to celebrate a marriage, which was, of course, the
58
The musicians who performed for Medina Sidonia in Écija, where the duke requested encores,
received coins thrown off his balcony. Marking a certain hierarchy in the duke’s estimation, the
bullfighter in Écija did better, being the recipient of a large quantity of reales for his skill and
bravery. Braganza gave generous monetary compensation to each of the dancers who performed in
Vila Viçosa during the week following the wedding. Panagírico and Relassao, passim.
59
Alonso de Zayas offered his house to the duke to spend the night on his return, paid the cost of
the bullfight and the horses used in the rejoneo (bullfights on horseback), and even organized a
poetry competition to celebrate the marriage. Panegírico, 256r-257r.
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64
first step toward perpetuating the lineage. In this regard, the two weddings were
different. It was Braganza’s first marriage, so he had no direct heirs other than his
brothers. But Medina Sidonia did have a direct heir the count of Niebla, the
son of his first wife (who was his father’s sister, and thus his own aunt). But it
was a risky proposition to trust in the survival of just one heir, as the great noble
families knew all too well. After several failed attempts, perhaps to ensure the
support of the king, Medina Sidonia chose as his best men to sign the wedding
documents and represent him at the wedding in Madrid two outstanding courtiers
and relatives: the Count-Duke of Olivares and don Luis de Haro.
60
The choice of a procession, a ritual festivity with centuries of royal
tradition, as the means of mythologizing the duke’s power shows the linkages
between a complex event such as a wedding in essence the realization of ties
between noble families and the guarantee of their biological continuation and
political language.
61
In the cases I have analyzed, there were no traces of
contestation.
62
But, particularly in the case of Medina Sidonia, the objective of the
lavish display most probably was to reinforce a sense of attachment toward the
person (himself) in charge of defending and protecting the community, in this
case the border of Lower Andalusia.
63
While in the early modern era there was
concrete political meaning attached to the act of appearing in public with great
pomp and a large entourage, at the same time, appearing with such a personage to
some degree implied taking sides. The support shown to Medina Sidonia along
his itinerary therefore can be interpreted as part of his consolidation of power in
the face of attempts to diminish his influence. If, on the one hand, being seen to
have more authority than was wise, as the Braganzas apparently were in Portugal,
affected a noble house’s capacity for political action, the Braganza procession was
at the same time a form of seigneurial reaffirmation.
64
At the same time, the use of terms such as majesty to describe processions
is part of the same code as that manifested in the images of the fiesta for
example, the “sovereign canopy” — whose ultimate aim was to sublimate the
60
Archivo General Casa de Medina Sidonia (AGCMS) leg. 993, October 10, 1639; and AGCMS
leg. 994, August 3, 1640.
61
Ruiz, A King, chap. II, “Festive traditions in Spain: Recording Festivals” and position 2.778. On
the political use of public fiestas and their reflection in writing, see, on the papal court, Laurie
Nussdorfer, “Print and Pageantry in Baroque Rome”, Sixteenth Century Journal, 29/2 (1998), 439-
464 and 439-464. See also Ruiz, A King, chap. IX, “Reading a princely wedding feast.”
62
On the festive space, especially in the case of urban receptions, as a channel for expressing
discontent see Ruiz, A King, ch. 1.
63
Referring to royal power and citing Saavedra Fajardo, Carmen Sanz Ayán in Sanz Ayán
(coord), “Informe”, 11-34-, has written about spiritual movements linking the lord and his
subjects.
64
Fernando Bouza, Portugal no tempo dos Felipes (Lisbon: Edições Cosmos, 2000), 216.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
65
image of seigneurial authority.
65
Those terms and symbols acquire a very different
meaning when used by a nobleman instead of by a sovereign and might even be
regarded as a challenge.
66
Thus we can see how great lords of vassals regarded
themselves as focal points of power able to mobilize loyalty on a grand scale and
devise policies to strengthen their positions. Their vital rites were conceived of as
public, to the degree that the term makes sense in the early modern era.
67
The
ideal image of social order consciously reflected throughout these acts of visual
didactics placed lords in a sphere that transcended a simple private celebration.
The array and order of the procession and the use of royal symbols lent a certain
sacral tone to the public appearance of the great nobility.
The use of military symbols in the visual discourse of the nobility added
legitimacy to the mission of the nobleman as judge.
68
Unlike some noblemen who
abandoned their weapons, certain great lords, especially those living on the
frontier of the Hispanic Monarchy, continued acting as padres de la patria, an
expression used by chroniclers in baroque Seville to refer, precisely, to the dukes
of Medina Sidonia.
69
Noblemen wielded these two traditional sources of
legitimacy jurisdiction and military might in reply to the monarchy’s efforts
to establish itself as the sole arbiter of nobility. Seen from this perspective, our
protagonists’ wedding processions can certainly enlighten us as to the political
aspirations of these two outstanding sites of power.
Given this state of affairs, it is tempting to connect the iconographic
display I have described with the plots organized by the two dukes: Braganza,
who in December 1640 would declare himself to be king of Portugal, and Medina
Sidonia, whose conspiracy was aborted in August 1641, putting an end to his
dynasty’s seigneurial primacy in Castile.
70
In the latter case, given the concrete
itinerary of the entourage, how close the two events were in time (March 1640
and August 1641), and the nature of the festivities, one can conclude that Medina
Sidonia planned his conspiracy with a clear idea in mind, thanks to the
65
On the relationship between sovereign powers and image, see M. Fantoni, “El potree delle
imagini. Reflessioni su iconografia e potere nell’ Italia del Rinascimento,” Storica 1 (1995): 43-
72.
66
A somehow different opinion in Ruiz, A King, position 6.941.
67
Following the classic analysis of royal ritual by Eric Kantarowicz, The King’s Two Bodies
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, [1957] 1997).
68
Regarding the deliverance of justice as a source of royal legitimation, see Jurgen Habermas,
Communication and Evolution of Society (Boston: Bacon Press, 1979), 178-205.
69
Vélez praises Medina Sidonia saying “the waters and the lands obey him, securing the whole
monarchy for his king.” In Vélez de Guevara, El Diablo, 147.
70
On the Portuguese revolt see Costa and Cunha, D. João IV; Vallance, A rainha; and Valladares,
La rebelión de Portugal. On the conspiracy of Medina Sidonia, see Luisa Isabel Álvarez de
Toledo, Historia de una conjura (La supuesta rebelión de Andalucía en el marco de las
conspiraciones de Felipe IV y la independencia de Portugal), (Cádiz: Diputación de Cádiz, 1985),
and Salas Almela, The Conspiracy.
BSPHS 40:1 (2015)
66
procession, of the support he enjoyed among wide sectors of the common people
and the elites of Lower Andalusia, whom he hoped would follow him. In
Braganza's case, however, the fact that there were seven years between the
wedding and the rebellion makes it impossible to assume even any indirect utility
in testing the political waters of the time through the fiesta, as his Andalusian
brother-in-law did.
We have focused more on political language than on truly iconographic
elements, but it would be useful to compare the visual aspects in the two
ceremonies, particularly taking into account that the ninth duke of Medina Sidonia
had attended Braganza's 1633 gathering as the brother of the bride. It is possible
that the idea of a great procession aimed at collecting his bride might have been
planted when the duke attended the Vila Viçosa festivities, though he would add a
much longer itinerary. In any case, iconographic innovations might be more than
a simple copy of the royal models often described in the historiography. Great
lords visually deployed their own political discourse and could take models from
elsewhere in Europe such as the Roman-style coach that drew so much
attention at Braganza's wedding and adapt these symbolic utensils to their own
needs. After all, the narrative accounts of the fiestas, when effusively describing
their various elements, could find no better praise than to say they were things
that had "never before been seen."
ResearchGate has not been able to resolve any citations for this publication.
El potree delle imagini
  • See M Fantoni
On the relationship between sovereign powers and image, see M. Fantoni, "El potree delle imagini. Reflessioni su iconografia e potere nell' Italia del Rinascimento," Storica 1 (1995): 43-72.
On the conspiracy of Medina Sidonia, see Luisa Isabel Álvarez de Toledo, Historia de una conjura
  • Vallance
  • La Valladares
Vallance, A rainha; and Valladares, La rebelión de Portugal. On the conspiracy of Medina Sidonia, see Luisa Isabel Álvarez de Toledo, Historia de una conjura (La supuesta rebelión de Andalucía en el marco de las conspiraciones de Felipe IV y la independencia de Portugal), (Cádiz: Diputación de Cádiz, 1985), and Salas Almela, The Conspiracy.
October 10, 1639; and AGCMS leg
  • Archivo General Casa De Medina
Archivo General Casa de Medina Sidonia (AGCMS) leg. 993, October 10, 1639; and AGCMS leg. 994, August 3, 1640.
On the political use of public fiestas and their reflection in writing, see, on the papal court, Laurie Nussdorfer
  • Ruiz
  • King
  • Chap
  • Ii
Ruiz, A King, chap. II, "Festive traditions in Spain: Recording Festivals" and position 2.778. On the political use of public fiestas and their reflection in writing, see, on the papal court, Laurie Nussdorfer, "Print and Pageantry in Baroque Rome", Sixteenth Century Journal, 29/2 (1998), 439-464 and 439-464. See also Ruiz, A King, chap. IX, "Reading a princely wedding feast." 62 On the festive space, especially in the case of urban receptions, as a channel for expressing discontent see Ruiz, A King, ch. 1.