(Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions) Pamela Bianchi - Displaying Art in The Early Modern Period - Exhibiting Practices and Exhibition Spaces-Routledge (2022)

i
Displaying Art in the Early Modern Period
From aesthetic promenades in noble palaces to the performativity of religious appar-

atus, this edited volume reconsiders some of the events, habits, and spaces that
contributed to defining exhibition practices and shaping the imagery of the exhibition
space in the early modern period.
The contributors encourage connections between art history, exhibition studies,
and architectural history, and explore micro-histories and long-term changes in order
to open new perspectives for studying these pioneering exhibition-making practices.
Aiming to understand what spaces have done and still do to art, the book explores an
underdeveloped area in the field that has yet to trace its interdisciplinary nature and
understand its place in the history of art.
The book will be of interest to scholars working in art history, museum studies,
exhibition history, and architectural history.
Pamela Bianchi is an art historian and a professor in history of art and design at the
ESAD in Toulon. Since 2013, Pamela has been an affiliated researcher of the lab AI-AC
at the Paris 8 University.
ii
Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions
Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions is a new series focusing on

museums, collecting, and exhibitions from an art historical perspective. Proposals for
monographs and edited collections on this topic are welcomed.
The Twentieth Century German Art Exhibition

Answering Degenerate Art in 1930s London
Lucy Wasensteiner
Curatorial Challenges
Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Contemporary Curating
Edited by Malene Vest Hansen, Anne Folke Henningsen and Anne Gregersen
Liberalism, Nationalism and Design Reform in the Habsburg Empire

Museums of Design, Industry and the Applied Arts
Matthew Rampley, Markian Prokopovych, and Nóra Veszprémi
The Venice Biennale and the Asia-Pacific in the Global Art World
Stephen Naylor
A History of Aboriginal Art in the Art Gallery of New South Wales

Vanessa Russ
Contemporary Curating, Artistic Reference and Public Reception

Reconsidering Inclusion, Transparency and Mediation in Exhibition Making Practice
Stéphanie Bertrand
Exhibiting Italian Art in the United States from Futurism to Arte Povera
‘Like a Giant Screen’
Raffaele Bedarida
Displaying Art in the Early Modern Period

Exhibiting Practices and Exhibition Spaces
Edited by Pamela Bianchi
For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Routledge-

Research-in-Art-Museums-and-Exhibitions/book-series/RRAM
iii
Displaying Art in the Early

Modern Period
Exhibiting Practices and Exhibition Spaces
Edited by Pamela Bianchi

iv
Cover image: ‘Men and two dogs in a bookshop’ by Dirck de Bray 1607-1678. Pen in brown,
brush in grey. 76mm x 76mm. RP-T-1884-A-290 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
First published 2023
by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
and by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2023 selection and editorial matter, Pamela Bianchi; individual chapters, the contributors
The right of Pamela Bianchi to be identified as the author of the editorial material,
and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance
with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,
and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bianchi, Pamela, editor.
Title: Displaying art in the early modern period : exhibiting practices and
exhibition spaces / edited by Pamela Bianchi.
Description: New York : Routledge, 2022. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022009434 (print) | LCCN 2022009435 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781032202884 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032214719 (paperback) |
ISBN 9781003268550 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Art–Exhibition techniques.
Classification: LCC N4395 .D574 2022 (print) |
LCC N4395 (ebook) | DDC 707.4–dc23/eng/20220521
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022009434
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022009435
ISBN: 978-1-032-20288-4 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-032-21471-9 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-26855-0 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550
Typeset in Sabon
by Newgen Publishing UK
v
Contents
List of Figures vii

List of Contributors ix
PART 1
Introduction 1
1 Reason for a Research 3

PA M E L A B I A N CH I
PART 2
Public Spaces 13
2 Trading Spaces: The Display Practices of an Early Modern

Auction in Edinburgh 15
A N TO N I A L AURE N CE A L L E N
3 The Discourse of the Salon 39

I SA B E L L E P I C H E T
4 Royal Spectacles and Social Networks: Early 18th-Century

Salon Exhibition Practices 54
M A N DY PA I GE -L OVIN GO O D
PART 3
Domestic Spaces 71
5 Exhibition Design, Display Strategies, and Aesthetic Promenades

at the Court of Gonzaga 73
PA M E L A B I A N CH I
6 “A Treasure of Riches and Curiosities”: Politics of Display at the

Garde-Meuble de la Couronne, 1680–1789 87
B A R B A R A L A SIC
vi
vi Contents
7 The Display of Metalwork in North European Domestic Spaces
in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries 110
HILA MANOR
PART 4
Religious and Political Spaces 129
8 Displaying Art in a Sacred Space: The Artworks for the Triunfo

of St. Ferdinand in Seville Cathedral (1671) 131
CA R M E N GO N ZÁL E Z-R O MÁN A N D H IL ARY MACART NEY
9 The Ephemeral Façade of Cardinal de Solis’s Palace: Aesthetics

and Politics in 18th-Century Rome 153
G I N E V R A ODO N E
Index 169
vi
Figures
.1 Title page of Edinburgh auction catalogue

2 22
2.2 Page 5 of Edinburgh auction catalogue 23
2.3 Interior of Riddle’s Court, from the entrance on the south side of
Lawn Market, Edinburgh, opposite Gladstone’s Land 25
2.4 Gladstone’s Land on north side of Lawn Market, Edinburgh 28
2.5 “The Quack” by an unknown painter c. 1619–1625 30
2.6 “Men and two dogs in a bookshop” by Dirck de Bray 1607–1678 31
3.1 Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, Vue du Salon en l’année 1753, National
Gallery of Art, Washington 40
3.2 Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, Detail of Vue du Salon en l’année 1753 45
4.1 Pierre Lepautre (1660–1744), Représentation de la statue de Sa
Majesté eslevée dans la Place de Louis-le Grand le 13 Aoust 1699 58
4.2 Nicholas Langlois (French, 1640–1703), The Salon of 1699, 1700 60
4.3 Liste des tableaux et des ouvrages de sculpture exposés dans la
grande galerie du Louvre par MM 62
6.1 Hôtel de la Marine, Place de la Concorde (formerly Place Louis XV),
c. 1920 89
6.2 Plan du Premier Etage du Gardemeuble du Roy à Construire à la Place
Louis XV (annotated by author), Ange-Jacques Gabriel, c. 1768 97
6.3 Elevation of the Galerie des Grands Meubles at the Garde-Meuble,
Jean-Démosthène Dugourc, c. 1778 98
6.4 Elevation of the Galerie des Antiques at the Garde-Meuble,
Jean-Démosthène Dugourc, c. 1778 99
6.5 Nicolas Chevalier after René Charpentier, La Galerie de Girardon,
18th century 100
7.1 Spoon and case, 15th c., the Low Countries 117
7.2 Pendant Triptych, c. 1460–1500, France (Paris or Tours) 119
7.3 Spice container, c. 1550, repairs and additions 1650/51, Frankfurt am
Main (?) Germany 120
8.1 Juan de Valdés Leal, The Triumph (“El Triunfo”), 1671 134
8.2 Juan de Valdés Leal, Main Doorway of the Church Leading to the
Steps, Facing the Triumph (“Puerta principal, que sale a gradas, en
frente del Triunfo”), 1672 136
8.3 Matías de Arteaga, Seville Cathedral, West Front (“Occidens”), 1672 140
vi
viii List of Figures

9.1 Israël Silvestre, Place de la Colonne Antoniane du Cours a Rome,
1643–1644 155
9.2 Giovanni Battista Falda, Piazza Colonna su la via del Corso spianata
et ampliata da N. Sig. Papa Alessandro VII, 1665 156
9.3 Giovanni Ottaviani, Prospetto della facciata del palazzo
d’abbitazione in Roma à Piazza Colonna del emo, e rmo sig.r card.
D. Francesco de Solís, arciv.o di Siviglia fatta illuminare il di
10. 11. 12. Agosto 1769, 1769 158
newgenprepdf
xi
Contributors
Pamela Bianchi (PhD, University of Paris 8) –Contributor and Editor

Art Historian and Professor in History of Art at the ESAD of Toulon
Carmen González-Román (University of Málaga)
Senior Lecturer in Art History at the University of Malaga
Barbara Lasic (Sotheby’s Institute of Art, London)
Lecturer at the Sotheby’s Institute of Art
Antonia Laurence Allen (National Trust for Scotland)
Regional Curator for Edinburgh and East Scotland and has been with the National
Trust for Scotland over seven years
Hilary Macartney (University of Glasgow)
Lecturer in History of Art at the University of Glasgow, where she directs the Stirling
Maxwell Research Project
Hila Manor (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem)
PhD student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and a fellow in the Outstanding
Doctoral Students Program of the Jack, Joseph, and Morton Mandel School for
Advanced Studies in the Humanities
Ginevra Odone (Université de Lorraine, La Sapienza Università di Roma)
Lecturer in Art History at the University of Marseille
Mandy Paige-Lovingood (North Carolina State University)
PhD student at North Carolina State University specializing in 18th-century exhib-
ition practices and the cross-
cultural connections between France and the
Ottoman Empire
Isabelle Pichet (Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières –UQTR)
Associate Professor at the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières (UQTR)
x
1
Part 1
Introduction
2
3
1
Reason for a Research
Pamela Bianchi
Introduction
Paintings […] fed the architectural imagination and visual culture of the period,
often foreshadowing what was built by a decade or even a generation. Pictures were
storehouses of architectural ideas.1
The idea of exhibition space, intended as a specific model of sociability, has crossed
over the years with numerous social practices and has shaped complex mechanisms
of circulation and hybridization. The need for social acclamation, which refers as
much to Jurgen Habermas’ idea of public space in the 18th century as to the will
for self-representation that developed in the 16th and 17th centuries, has profoundly
transformed public and private spaces, trying to adapt them to specific social practices.
The artistic and collecting methods then completed the picture, often remodelling
the spaces according to different exhibition needs and making them free to produce
knowledge by staging multiple forms of representation.
While this reflection has been widely developed especially in recent years, on the
other, it has mostly focused on a series of well-known spaces (such as medieval studioli
or Renaissance galleries). However, especially between the 16th and 17th centuries in
western Europe, before the museum became an academic dogma –at a time when
the modern idea of exhibiting had not yet been fully defined –other venues were
used as ideal spaces for setting up temporary exhibition events: tents, cubicula, villas,
churches, chapels, convents, cloisters, facades, squares, ephemeral pavilions, concert
halls, auction houses, merchant fairs, and botteghe. These places, where the very idea
of sociability was experienced and performed, included all the social practices impli-
citly linked to the act of exhibiting. Three main categories emerge clearly: domestic
spaces (understood as the matrix of the owner’s need for social self-representation),
public spaces (as the public theatre for feasts and celebrations), and religious and pol-
itical spaces (as a frame where artists could exhibit their works during ceremonies).
In this regard, some studies, such as by Francis Haskell, Georg Friedrich Koch, and
Thomas Crow,2 have expanded the idea of exhibiting to various contexts of public
life. These studies have particularly suggested the genealogical link between an art
exhibition and the plurality of historical circumstances and places in which the act
of exhibiting can be identified. Above all, they highlighted the need to define new
approaches and viewpoints from which to study the history of exhibitions and their
spaces.
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-2
4
4 Pamela Bianchi
Following this consideration, the edited volume3 aims to reconsider those events
and habits that contributed to defining exhibition practices and shaping the imagery
of the exhibition space in the early modern age. It tries to shape a new “geography of
exhibiting,” exploring the imagery of the exhibition in the early modern period. In this
sense, the choice of the historical period (from the Renaissance to the early 18th cen-
tury) is iconic. Indeed, “limiting” the study to the period preceding the idea of a fully
public museum removes research from traditional museum studies. By expanding the
ancient history of the exhibition space beyond and before museum history, the volume
thus renews the conventional methodology and integrates other stories (of exhibitions
and set-ups) by highlighting a complex network of themes and structuring a historical
glimpse on specific categories of study. Indeed, studying the origins of the exhibition
space also means extending the research to an interdisciplinary approach capable of
intersecting the historiographical study of the social contexts concerned with the ana-
lysis of the exhibition arrangements and the semiotic understanding of the works. That
is why the volume encourages connections between art history, exhibition studies, and
architecture and explores micro-stories and long-term changes.
The choice of articles reflects then the shared desire to define a new epistemological
characterization of the exhibition space, free from any institutional and museum logic
but permeable to the social and cultural conditions of the time. All the articles use
various documents, both written and visual, as a means to rethink the history of
the exhibition space and art display from a new perspective, that is, as a sort of
historical source (indirectly represented evidence).4 The nature5 of these resources
required a different and precise study methodology. Indeed, although many pictured
or described contexts are documentary snapshots of a specific historical period (a
“straightforward reportage”),6 many others are mere depictions that shape a space in
which history disappears.7 Therefore, depending on the nature of the documents (lit-
erary descriptions or pictorial representations), each document developed an adaptive
approach to analysis. Since they invest the field of iconography in the recognition of
semiotic signs, all chapters have considered images as exemplary devices that facilitate
the epistemic processes of historical reading. Since they treat images as models that
produce new forms of knowledge, contributors offer new tools for understanding the
logic underlying the complex structure of images and their interpretative framework.
The geographical scope (concentrated especially in Europe) is critical too. Focusing
attention on the contexts that have marked the history of exhibiting and exhib-
ition spaces means insisting precisely on the need to define a new historiographic
approach, disconnected from traditional museum studies, and rather inserted within
an expanded idea of social and cultural history. The volume thus subtly highlights
the emergence of a new concept of sociability that, especially up to the 18th cen-
tury, defined the evolution and creation of new places dedicated to exhibiting as an
accepted and shared representative practice. Ultimately, this volume offers itself as
a possibility of re-reading the idea of exhibition space (and therefore of exhibiting)
through a new study perspective.
Case Studies and Spaces

Before the appearance of the early painting exhibitions and the first spaces specially
designed to collect and to present collections, the action of showing was mainly related
to the habit of “dressing up”8 buildings for political commemorations, religious
5
Reason for a Research 5

processions, or social events. In Italy, France, and Spain, already in the 15th century,
there was the habit to decorate façades of buildings with tapestries or paintings to
celebrate the passage of politicians or prelates (as depicted by Canaletto in La visita
del doge alla Chiesa di San Rocco, 1735). Paintings were also hung on the vaults of
the churches to celebrate liturgical functions, as recorded by Andrea Sacchi’s painting,
Festa al Gesù per l’apertura dell’anno secolare, in 1639, and even more by the com-
memoration organized every first day of May, from 1639 to 1707, by the Parisian
guild of goldsmiths (the Confraternity of Saint Anne and Saint-Marcel) to celebrate
the saint. During this occasion, a“ May” (a large-dimension painting)9 was displayed
at the church of Notre Dame.10 Following these cases, Carmen González-Román and
Hilary Macartney examine in this volume the role of Seville Cathedral as an exhib-
ition space, and the collaboration between the artists involved in the construction
and decoration of the Triumph around 1670, which combined paintings, sculptures,
emblems, and inscriptions in a multi-layered display. Above all, the authors analyse
here the role of the public and the performativity of the Cathedral space and empha-
size the idea of proto-exhibition in the early modern period by studying two etchings
contained in Torre Farfán’s volume Fiestas de Sevilla, which illustrate the Triumph, its
location and the relationship between the interior and exterior space of the Cathedral.
This kind of event and the related spaces were used indeed not only to commem-
orate festive circumstances but above all to stage temporary exhibitions. Although at
the time the interest in the organization of these occasions was predominantly linked
to the social, political, or religious issues of the commemoration itself, some of these
circumstances were also for many artists and collectors of the time an opportunity
for sales and public promotion. This was a recurring situation in Italy already in the
15th century. In this regard, among several fairs (such as those in Alessandria, Verona,
and Padua), the Festa della Sensa in Venice was so famous among the society and
the artists of the time that some sources11 recorded paintings by Lorenzo Lotto and
the Bassano brothers. However, it was mainly from the 17th and 18th centuries that
various religious and social events ended up becoming annual painting exhibitions,
such as the well-known “Mostra dei quadri”12 held under the colonnade of the por-
tico and above the balustrade of the Pantheon, in Rome. The first testimony of the
presence of a few paintings exhibited at the Pantheon dates back to 1578, when the
feast was not yet understood as an exhibition, but still as a liturgical celebration of
the patron. In that year, a chronicler recorded the set-up of the place, where “the
chapel and the oratory were adorned with cloths and festoons.”13 In 1633, the feast
then acquired the status of an exhibition, and paintings started to be also hang in
the adjacent porticos. This event was iconic not only for artists but also for many
collectors who lent their paintings to publicly show off their intellectual and eco-
nomic power.
Collectors exhibited their collection (and, symbolically, themselves) also on other
social occasions by lending some artworks to decorate the city. In 1513, for instance,
the Cardinal Della Valle lent a series of statues to adorn the arch erected expressly to
celebrate the Possession of Leone X.14 Others instead took the initiative to decorate
the façade of their own house by setting up a few pieces of their collection, as Gabriele
de’ Rossi did during the same occasion of the Cardinal Della Valle: “[…] the de’ Rossi
had set up their antiquities, including a ‘Diana di alabastro che proprio parlar volessi’,
on high platforms arranged on either side of the street in front of their house.”15 This
custom of experimenting with the communicative potential of the architectural façade
6
6 Pamela Bianchi
lasted until the 18th century, as Ginevra Odone describes well in her chapter focusing
on the message behind the ephemeral façade commissioned by the Spanish Francisco
de Solís Folch de Cardona in Rome in 1769. Through the analysis of the symbology
behind the ephemeral orchestration and the reorganization of Piazza Colonna, the
author develops here an in-depth historiographical study on the role of art within the
relationship between the Roman Church and the Spanish Kingdom.
Urban space was also one of the first places for public exhibitions in France. As
early as the 15th century, sacred or profane recurrent events staged rudimentary
exhibitions in which paintings were hung from windows, façades, or walls. In France,
for instance, the Beaucaire fair in Occitanie, the fair of Troyes in Champagne, or the
Lendit fair in Saint-Denis, near Paris, allowed artists to exhibit their creations. These
occasions also were real opportunities to experiment with temporary exhibition space
and display modalities. The medieval feast organized on the Île de la Cité,16 by the
parish of Saint-Barthélemy on the day of Corpus Christi, was one of these occasions.
During the 18th century, this one-day event was held at the Place Dauphine;17 the
nearby bridge (Pont-Neuf) and the buildings along the northern corner of the square
were dressed up with paintings and tapestries hung from the windows. As in the
Italian 17th-century examples, this feast became more an occasion to exhibit, to sell
and to buy art, rather than a mere religious event. The Place Dauphine turned into a
kind of hybrid theatre (simultaneously a public place, an exhibition space, and a stage
for a religious event) which would then be called the Salon de la Jeunesse (Exhibition
of Youth),18 an event in which young artists exhibited their works together with
amateurs and academic artists. Stemmed from a religious festival, this annual exhib-
ition ended up promoting a collective awareness regarding the need for a “unitary
conception of artistic culture.”19
These kinds of events, which took place in the city regularly, were notably an
opportunity above all for the artists “rejected” by the Academy and the young ones
to sell and present paintings to a varied audience (paintings were sometimes hung
on the walls of churches, sometimes on sidewalks and in mobile display structures).
As moments of sociability and artistic recognition, these occasions also responded
to a new idea of artistic sociability. Indeed, the increased participation and consent
of the artists in these events also contributed to build-up20 the social affirmation of
these associations, to the point that even the Salon began to modify certain activities
and regulations (especially the spatial layout and the accessibility) to get closer to
the exhibiting formulas of these organizations.21 In 1725, for instance, the Academy
decided to set the exhibition in the Louvre’s Salon Carré for more setting-up freedom
(as it was in the Place Dauphine); then, between 1720 and 1730, despite the official
ban, academic painters, like François Lemoyne, decided to exhibit at the Salon de la
Jeunesse; and also, in 1728, the success of a painting by Chardin exhibited at the Place
Dauphine determined the painter’s access to the Academy.
Throughout the 18th century,22 in a climate of emancipation from the academic
regulations forbidding the organization of independent exhibitions outside the
Salon,23 these places became the theatres of alternative forms of exhibiting and artistic
promotion. Halfway between the domestic and the public dimension of cultivated
social places,24 they were mostly houses, ateliers, mansions, and urban contexts for
fairs or religious festivals. These venues, such as the Bullion Hotel, the Jabach Hotel,
or the Convent of the Filles-Saint-Thomas, were alternatives to those places institu-
tionally recognized by the Academy. Isabelle Pichet’s chapter as well as that of Mandy
7

Paige-Lovingood fit into this historiographical context by bringing a crossed and sim-
ultaneously diverse perspective around the Parisian Salon. Pichet’s research focuses
on critical writings about the 1753 Salon of the Académie royale in Paris and, above
all, on the set-up designed by the artist/curator Jacques André Portail to organize
the reception of the artworks and to shape a public and critical judgement. On the
contrary, Paige-Lovingood’s paper revaluates early salon exhibition practices in rela-
tion to the rules, regulations, and theories of the Académie to unpack French display
in early 18th-century Paris. Through an analysis of the salon exhibition practices of
1699 and 1704, she offers a gaze on how the hierarchical ranking system tried to
counter critics and maintain its grip on regulating aesthetics and maintaining an abso-
lutist judgement.
Beyond feasts, street displays, and public venues, also pharmacies, libraries, ateliers,
botteghe, and auction houses make it possible to draw the social geography25 above
all of the 17th-and 18th-century art venues by offering a transversal reinterpret-
ation of the spatial and cultural history of an evolving society. There, spaces not
only harboured the changes of society but also laid the foundations for a new art-
istic, exhibiting, and architectural consciousness. These places also underline the link
established between new cultural phenomena and a new urban spatiality, interested
in architectural and societal changes, as described by Antonia Laurence Allen in her
chapter. There, the author develops an in-depth analysis of the first known public
auction of pictures in Scotland. Examining the original catalogue of the event, she
builds a study to demonstrate the extent to which early modern display practices in
Scotland were guided by trade, class, and consumption. Following the same idea of
hybrid space, Barbara Lasic’s chapter delves into the same issues. She focuses on the
ontology of the Garde Meuble de la Couronne, both private and public place founded
in the early 17th century by French King Henry IV, that housed a permanent supply
of goods in several “boutiques” for the conservation and repair, and also in dedicated
display spaces. Lasic thus examines the identity of its exhibition spaces as hybrids
between museum sites and commercial premises and finally interrogates the role of its
intendants as proto-curators.
Contrary to the idea of public space (that was considered as the place in which
artists, collectors, merchants, and amateurs could exhibit, sell, buy, and contem-
plate arts), the house was rather intended as a place to exhibit first the collector’s
symbolic image and then artworks. Collectors thus dressed domestic interiors with
their collections (of paintings, sculptures, and other artefacts), bringing the house
to become a place of social self-representation, both exhibition space and “architec-
tural” portrait of its owner. This situation reflects the habit spread in the 16th and
17th centuries, within the European upper bourgeoisie and aristocracy, that led to
the definition of specific forms of exhibiting. Especially starting from the Italian 16th
century, a complex interplay took place between the form, the function, and the use
of early modern dwellings, their interiors, their architecture and decoration, and the
works of art displayed there. Sometimes, the works of art on display affected the
spaces in which they were seen or for which they were made, altering their structures
and forms. Often, paintings, sculptures, and other objects reflected upon the social
meanings of the specific space, helping define the social activities taking place there,
and the social meaning and image the owner wanted to show off. This habit still
reflected the medieval idea of collection, intended as a “[…] projection towards the
outside of the original primitive concept of possession as an ornament.”26 Therefore,
8
8 Pamela Bianchi
the act of projecting one’s power outward through the theatricalization of one’s goods
was pronominally understood as a means of asserting oneself publicly. Finally, the
collection was mainly considered as a symbol, as a device of staging, and thus, its set-
up, composition, and volume had to be carefully designed, to shape a precise message.
This reflection is developed in the volume by Pamela Bianchi who consecrated the
study to the Ducal Palace of the Gonzaga family in Mantua and in particular to the
relationship between the display of collections, the furniture design, the performativity
of the wandering, and the architectural decoration, at the time of Ferdinando Gonzaga,
in 1626. From another point of view, with a gaze turned towards the symbolic and
communicative power of domestic objects and their design arrangement, the article
of Hila Manor is instead interested in the role of domestic objects in early modern
North European households. Intended as devices capable of creating knowledge and
transmitting a message beyond their functionality, metal artefacts are here studied for
their power to stage the psychology of design.
In the end, the notions of the temporary and the changeable, as well as the idea
of the theatricality of gestures and behaviours, highlighted the hybridization of
spaces permeable to interdisciplinarity: domestic places that implicitly became spaces
for social representation or propaganda; external public spaces that have been
transformed, for the duration of an event, into places of knowledge where culture and
intellectual thought have reached the society. An aesthetic of the ritual dictated acts of
exhibiting and choices of venues, ending up dramatizing spaces and gestures. Those
places, not only concerning the ritualization of diplomatic manoeuvres by collectors,
patrons, or clerics but also the aesthetic affirmation of artists and the expectations of
spectators, have thus laid the foundations for the structuring of an exhibiting policy.
From the aesthetic walks inside the noble palaces to the performativity of the religious
apparatuses, up to the reading of the French salons, this edited volume, finally, aims
to reconsider some of those events, habits, and spaces that have contributed to define
pioneering exhibition practices and to shape the imaginary of the exhibition space in
the early modern period.
“The monograph stems from the study day “Displaying Art in the Early Modern
Period”, directed by Pamela Bianchi and organized during the AAH annual con-
ference, from 14 to 17 April 2021 with the collaboration of the University of
Birmingham.”
Notes
1 Amanda Lillie, “Introduction,” in Building the Picture: Architecture in Italian Renaissance
Painting (London: The National Gallery, 2014), www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/resea
rch/exhibition-catalogues/building-the-picture/introduction (accessed 14 January 2022).
2 See Thomas Crow, Painters and Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Paris (New Haven,
London: Yale University Press, 1985); Georg Friedrich Koch, Die Kunstausstellung. Ihre
Geschichte von den Anfangen bis zum Ausgang des 18 (Jahrhunderts, Berlin: Walter
de Gruyter & Co, 1967); Kenneth Luckhurst, The Story of Exhibitions (London,
New York: Studio Publishing, 1951); Francis Haskell, “Art Exhibition in 18th Century
Venice,” Venetian Art, Vol. XII (1958): 179–185; Francis Haskell, “Art Exhibition in 17th
Century Rome,” Seventeenth-Century Studies, edited by C. Jannaco and U. Limentani,
Vol. 1 (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1960): 107–121.
9

3 On this subject, see the volume currently being published: Pamela Bianchi, The Origins of
the Exhibition Space in the Early Modern Period. 1450–1750 (Amsterdam, AUP).
4 For further information, see Guido Rebecchini, “Evidence: inventories,” Display of Art
in the Roman Palace. 1550–1750, edited by Gail Feigenbaum (Los Angeles: The Getty
Research Institute, 2014): 27–28.
5 Over the years, various studies have debated the historical truth of representations. See
Francis Haskell, History and Its Images. Art and the Interpretation of the Past (New Haven,
London: Yale University Press, 1993); Luke Syson, “Representing Domestic Interiors,”
At Home in Renaissance Italy, edited by Marta Ajmar- Wollheim and Flora Dennis
(London: V&A, 2006): 86–101.
6 Francis Haskell, History and Its Images. Art and the Interpretation of the Past, op.cit., 81.
7 Painters often preferred the imaginative and symbolic power of the pictorial gesture to the
historical truthfulness; they often depicted pictures for a specific reason indeed. Often, they
were in the habit of eliminating details to make room for a higher aesthetic and symbolic
refinement of the depiction. Charles Harrison, “The Effects of Landscape,” Landscape and
Power, edited by W.J.T. Mitchell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994, 2002): 215.
See also W.J.T. Mitchell, “Nature for Sale: Gombrich and the Rise of Landscape,” The
Consumption of Culture in the Early Modern Period, edited by Ann Bermingham and John
Brewer (New York: Routledge, 1997) 103–118.
8 Francis Haskell, The Ephemeral Museum. Old Master Paintings and the Rise of the Art
Exhibition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000); Alessandra Rodolfo and Caterina
Volpi (ed.), Vestire i palazzi. Stoffe, tessuti e parati negli arredi e nell’arte del Barocco (Città
del Vaticano: Edizioni Musei Vaticani, 2014).
9 This recurring traces back to the 1st of May 1449 when the goldsmiths of Paris (at that
time, not yet a confraternity) showed a decorated tree in front of the gate of Notre Dame, to
celebrate the Virgin. Over the years, the tree was substituted with a tabernacle embellished
with small paintings hung on the sides, depicting scenes of the Old Testament. From 1630,
the tabernacle was replaced with a big painting made every year by an artist of the time.
According to Robert W. Berger, despite not having clear sources, the passage from the tab-
ernacle to the painting could be traced back to the high social impact the cycle of Rubens’s
paintings had when it was installed at the Luxembourg Palace, in 1625. See Robert
W. Berger, Public Access to Art in Paris. A Documentary History from the Middle Ages to
1800 (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University, 1999): 53–55.
10 This habit became so famous within the Parisian society and above all for the artists of the
time that this religious commemoration turned into a true exhibition. However, this case
remained for the French context a sporadic example of the “conversion” of a liturgical
feast into an artistic event, and it would have been followed by the exhibitions of the 18th-
century Salon.
11 See Mario Labò, ad vocem “Esposizioni,” in Enciclopedia universale dell’arte, Vol. V
(Venice, Rome: Istituto per la collaborazione culturale, 1958): 42–54.
12 Stefano Marson, Allestire e mostrare dipinti in Italia e Francia tra XVI e XVIII secolo
(Rome: Edizioni Nuova Cultura, 2012): 4.
13 See I libro del Camerlengo (f. 37, 48) quoted by Halina Waga, “Vita nota ed ignota dei
Virtuosi al Pantheon. Notizie d’Archivio,” L’urbe. Rivista Romana, Vol. 5 (1967): 1–2.
14 Marcello Fagiolo and Maria Luisa Madonna, “Il possesso di Leone X: il trionfo delle
prospettive,” La festa a Roma dal Rinascimento al 1870, edited by Marcello Fagiolo
(Turin: Umberto Allemandi, 1997): 42–49.
15 See Giovanni Giacomo Penni, Cronicha delle magnifiche & honorate pompe fatte in Roma
per la Creatione & Incoronatione di Papa Leone X Pont. Max (Rome, 1513), quoted
byKathleen Wren Christian, “The De’ Rossi Collection of Ancient Sculptures, Leo X, and
Raphael,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, Vol. 65 (2002): 132–200,
here 156.
01
10 Pamela Bianchi

6 For further information on this feast, see Ibid., 95–101.
1
17 This square had already been the theatre of other exhibiting forms, as recorded by Stefano
Della Bella’s etching, in 1638. Here, the artist painted the tapestries depicting the Acts of
the Apostles from Raphael’s drawing. Cf. Caroline Joubert, Stefano Della Bella 1610–
1664, exh. cat., Caen, Musée des Beaux-Arts, 4 July –5 October 1998 (Paris: RMN,
1998), 70–71.
18 Émile Bellier de la Chavignerie, “Notes pour servir à l’histoire de l’exposition de la Jeunesse,
qui avait lieu, chaque année, à Paris, les jours de la grande et de la petite Fête-Dieu,” Revue
universelle des arts, Vol. XIX (1864): 38–72; Gérard-Georges Lemaire, Histoire du Salon de
peinture (Paris: Klincksieck, 2004): 35.
19 Thomas Crow, Painters and Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Paris, op. cit., 116.
20 Ibid., 60.
21 Although the Salon of the Royal Academy (1648) can be seen as one of the first public art
exhibitions, it was not until 1737 that the Salon acquired a regular and biannual frequency,
being held in the Salon Carré at the Louvre.
22 At least until 21 August 1791, i.e. the date that marks the opening of the Salon to all French
and foreign artists.
23 “Nous avons fait et faisons expresses inhibitions et défenses à toutes personnes, de quelque
qualité et condition qu’elles soient, d’établir des exercices publics desdits arts de peinture et
de sculpture, de poser le modèle, faire montre ou donner des leçons en public, touchant le
fait desdits arts, qu’en ladite Académie Royale ou dans les lieux par elle choisis et accordés,
et sous sa conduite ou avec sa permission.” Article published in 1777 which ratified the mon-
opoly of the Royal Academy on the artistic system of the time. See Léon Aucoc, L’Institut de
France. Lois, statut et règlement concernant les anciennes Académies et l’Institut de 1635 à
1889 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1889).
24 See Paul Rasse, “La médiation scientifique et technique, entre vulgarisation et espace
public,” La Science dans la cité, Quaderni, Vol. 46 (winter 2001–2002): 73–93.
25 For an in-depth look at the spatial, urban, and societal changes in Paris in the 18th cen-
tury, and at the links between the establishment of the aristocracy and the geography of the
Parisian Salons, see Antoine Lilti, “Espace urbain, espace mondain: Paris et la sociabilité
mondaine au XVIIIe siècle,” La Ville et l’esprit de société, edited by Katia Beguin and Olivier
Dautresme (Tours: Presses universitaires François-Rabelais, 2004): 111–127.
26 Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunst-und Wunderkammern der Spätrenaissance (Lipsia
Verlag: Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1908).
References
Marta Ajmar- Wollheim and Flora Dennis (ed.), At Home in Renaissance Italy (London:
V&A, 2006).
Léon Aucoc, L’Institut de France. Lois, statut et règlement concernant les anciennes Académies
et l’Institut de 1635 à 1889 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1889).
Katia Beguin and Olivier Dautresme (dir.), La Ville et l’esprit de société (Tours: Presses
universitaires François-Rabelais, 2004).
Émile Bellier de la Chavignerie, “Notes pour servir à l’histoire de l’exposition de la Jeunesse,
qui avait lieu, chaque année, à Paris, les jours de la grande et de la petite Fête-Dieu”, Revue
universelle des arts, Vol. XIX (1864): 38–72.
Robert W. Berger, Public Access to Art in Paris. A documentary History from the Middle Ages
to 1800 (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University, 1999).
Ann Bermingham and John Brewer (ed.), The Consumption of Culture in the Early Modern
Period (New York: Routledge, 1997).
Kathleen Wren Christian, “The De’ Rossi Collection of Ancient Sculptures, Leo X, and Raphael”,
Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, Vol. 65 (2002): 132–200.
1

Thomas Crow, Painters and Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Paris (New Haven, London: Yale
University Press, 1985).
Marcello Fagiolo (ed.), La festa a Roma dal Rinascimento al 1870 (Turin: Umberto
Allemandi, 1997).
Gail Feigenbaum (ed.), Display of Art in the Roman Palace. 1550–1750 (Los Angeles: The Getty
Research Institute, 2014).
Georg Friedrich Koch, Die Kunstausstellung. Ihre Geschichte von den Anfangen bis zum
Ausgang des 18 (Jahrhunderts, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter & Co, 1967).
Francis Haskell, “Art Exhibition in 18th Century Venice”, Venetian Art, Vol. XII (1958): 179–185.
Francis Haskell, “Art Exhibition in 17th Century Rome”, Seventeenth-Century Studies, edited
by C. Jannaco and U. Limentani, Vol. 1 (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1960): 107–121.
Francis Haskell, History and Its Images. Art and the Interpretation of the Past (New Haven,
London: Yale University Press, 1993).
Francis Haskell, The Ephemeral Museum. Old Master Paintings and the Rise of the Art
Exhibition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000).
Caroline Joubert, Stefano Della Bella 1610–1664, exh. cat., Caen, Musée des Beaux-Arts, 4
July—5 Oct. 1998 (Paris: RMN, 1998).
Gérard-Georges Lemaire, Histoire du Salon de peinture (Paris: Klincksieck, 2004).
Amanda Lillie, Building the Picture: Architecture in Italian Renaissance Painting (London: The
National Gallery, 2014), online.
Kenneth Luckhurst, The Story of Exhibitions (London, New York: Studio Publishing, 1951).
Stefano Marson, Allestire e mostrare dipinti in Italia e Francia tra XVI e XVIII secolo
(Rome: Edizioni Nuova Cultura, 2012).
W.J.T. Mitchell, Landscape and Power (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994, 2002).
Paul Rasse, “La médiation scientifique et technique, entre vulgarisation et espace public”, La
Science dans la cité, Quaderni, Vol. 46 (winter 2001–2002): 73–93.
Alessandra Rodolfo and Caterina Volpi (ed.), Vestire i palazzi. Stoffe, tessuti e parati negli arredi
e nell’arte del Barocco (Città del Vaticano: Edizioni Musei Vaticani, 2014).
Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunst-und Wunderkammern der Spätrenaissance (Lipsia, 1908).
Halina Waga, “Vita nota ed ignota dei Virtuosi al Pantheon. Notizie d’Archivio”, L’urbe. Rivista
Romana, Vol. 5 (Rome: Fratelli Palombi 1967): 1–2.
21
31
Part 2
Public Spaces
41
51
2
Trading Spaces
The Display Practices of an Early Modern
Auction in Edinburgh
Antonia Laurence Allen
Introduction
“A curious collection of pictures of all sorts and sizes,” an advert declares to Edinburgh
citizens in 1697, “fit for Halls, Stair-Cases, Chambers and Closets…” A sale of pictures
is being held in the “Land Mercat,” with morning and afternoon hours to accom-
modate a range of clients. The auction will continue until all the pictures are sold.
Paintings can be viewed, and catalogues are available at the auction house, which is
“over-against Gladstone’s Land.”1
So reads the first page of a catalogue promoting the first-known public auction
of pictures in Scotland. This study examines the document’s language and contents
to demonstrate the extent to which early modern display practices in Scotland were
guided by trade and consumption. In doing so, it builds on the scholarship into
changing 17th-century markets and auctions for pictures held across Europe and in
England.2 It extends preliminary work into Scottish auctions undertaken by Murray
Pittock in his survey of Edinburgh’s civic development in the latter half of the 17th cen-
tury.3 Also, it builds on the assertions of Fern Insh, who has examined the visual cul-
ture of Scotland and noted that “the images and the people of the early modern period
were far more aspirational than is popularly conveyed.”4 This is research that aims to
bring early modern practices out of the “Enlightenment shadow” and challenge the
assumption that Scotland’s cultural awakening did not occur until the 18th century.
As Pittock has evidenced, Edinburgh was highly cosmopolitan in the mid-17th
century. It was a city where information and innovation spread rapidly, with heter-
ogenous groups of people living in close quarters and spending a great deal of time in
the street (due largely to poorly ventilated, badly lit, cramped quarters).5 It is this geo-
spatial information –of citizens living, working, and socializing in the marketplace –
that provides the backdrop and context to the 1697 auction. The language of the
catalogue makes it clear that the event was aimed at both the elite connoisseur and the
novice. The auction specifically catered to clients with country estates, for example,
the catalogue including a special note at the bottom of the first page, which reads:
That if any shall buy any Pictures, and desire to have them Packed up in Cases, to
send them into the Countrey [sic], they may have them so done by the Undertaker,
they paying only for the Cases and Charges, otherways [sic] happening.
This statement suggests the auction organizers had professional and bespoke
packing services, as well as ample spaces to wrap and case paintings for dispatch.6
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-4
61
16 Antonia Laurence Allen

At the same time, the introductory sentence in the catalogue’s title paragraph
suggests an invitation is being made to new consumers. The term “auction” is expli-
citly translated as “who bids most is the buyer,” for those who may need clarifica-
tion on its meaning.
Who were the consumers? We do not know precisely. But this was an era when
the very concept of “the public” was changing to encompass more than the mon-
arch and its political body, to include the literate. More people were self-identifying
as individuals who operated within both local and overseas networks. There is no
doubt that early modern Scots were self-aware and public-minded; after all, this is
the same moment that individuals in burghs and towns grouped together to invest in
the ill-fated Darien scheme, emboldened by the belief in a “New Caledonia.”7 And,
to be a maker of furniture or a wright in the city of Edinburgh meant you were
part of a familial and professional network of burgesses and guild-brothers, town
commissioners, lawyers, artisans, and traders of all types.8 Karen Bowie has evidenced
how the early modern Scots participated in a “public” sphere through pamphlets and
petitions, so much so that it was beginning to be understood that “individuals outside
the state could act for the common good, that opinions were exposed to the world
through print, and that readers formed an evaluative body.”9 Thus, print culture was
forging connections between literate citizens participating in public life in cities like
Edinburgh. The painting auction should be viewed in this context. It was preceded by
book auctions, which appeared in Edinburgh a few years before.10 And, its catalogue
and display would have echoed the practices of participation being played out in the
marketplace.
There are no visual images or descriptions of the display practices used in this
auction. Therefore, this study makes suppositions about the spatial experience of
visiting the auction in 1697, by referencing language used in the catalogue, the kinds
of consumers found in Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket, the spaces available in 1697, and
the display practices evident in early modern displays of paintings in both private
collections and retail spaces. The argument being, even if paintings were not purchased
by all types of consumers, they were displayed in familiar terms within a transitory
landscape on Edinburgh’s high street, where foreign “curios” were known to come
and go with the seasons. Primed by the merchant and professional classes who had
sustained networks in both trade and learning with Flanders and Holland, as well as
professional and familial London connections, this was a public sale of art. As such,
the auction would have used exhibiting practices familiar to Edinburgh’s vast array of
literate citizens, who lived amongst ephemeral trading spaces in the tenements off the
high street where changing displays were part of everyday consumerism.
The Catalogue
The 1697 catalogue has 442 listings. A deceptive figure, disrupted by the array of
missing numbers and listings that note two or more items. It is also clear there were
paintings on exhibit that were not listed at all; a handwritten message on the fifth
page notes a “battaill [battle] ... not in the catalogue.” The document is not exacting;
therefore, its omissions and additions perhaps suggest more items were accepted into
auction after the catalogue was published. The document is archived in the Leven
and Melville muniments, held at the Scottish Records Office. Deduction presumes it
was from the household of David Melville, the 3rd Earl of Leven from 1681 and the
71
Trading Spaces 17
Governor of Edinburgh Castle. At the time of the auction in 1697, Melville was also a
Privy Councillor and the Governor of the newly established Bank of Scotland.
As Governor of the castle, David had lodgings just steps away from the Land Mercat –
or Lawnmarket –where this auction was held. He had married Anna Wemyss Leslie
in 1691, and she died suddenly at the castle in 1702. The Countess of Leven may have
been the owner of the catalogue, furnishing lodgings some years after her marriage; a
common practice for women of status in Scotland. Women were certainly part of the
customer base at the earliest art auctions, where viewing prior to buying was already
an established practice. The English auctioneer Edward Millington had advertised a
“Conveniency of galleries” in the 1680s, set apart for ladies and gentlewomen who
wished to view before purchasing at his “Barbados Coffeehouse” in London.11
The 3rd Earl and Countess were keen patrons of the arts. John Medina, the
Brussels-born portrait painter, had made a name for himself in royal circles after
arriving in London in 1686. The year the 3rd Earl married he was urged by his wife,
his mother (the Countess of Melville), and his cousin (Margaret Countess of Rothes)
to encourage Medina to come to Scotland and paint their portraits. Medina would
arrive in Edinburgh during the winter of 1693–1694 and, with Leven’s encourage-
ment and little competition, Medina settled into a profitable niche, quickly sending for
his family and house contents to set up a permanent studio in the Canongate. He had
clients from the professional classes, most notably members of the old Incorporation
of Surgeons whose portraits were installed in James Smith’s Surgeon’s Hall that
opened in 1697.12
The Earl and Countess of Leven also had the requisite country seat. One of their
residences was Balgonie Castle, located between Markinch and Leven in Fife, where
a three-storey addition was being planned to link the north range with the south-east
building. Construction began a few years after the Edinburgh auction, in 1702. There
are no inventories in the muniments for the Leven’s residences for these years, but
the presence of the catalogue in the family papers does suggest the Earl and Countess
may have purchased several pictures. Indeed, the catalogue is marked with notations
that indicate someone went to the auction house on the Lawnmarket, surveyed the
pictures, took note of prices, and penned a line next to several listings that caught
their attention. How this pre-sale viewing process was managed is difficult to ascer-
tain. Yet the catalogue provides clear evidence a process existed: “The Pictures may be
Viewed, and Catalogues had at the place of Sale.” This headline statement on the title
page suggests a notable spatial design that allowed varieties of consumers to browse
hundreds of paintings. The catalogue also announces that the paintings would be on
display until all of them are sold. The front page informed consumers that the sale
opened on Wednesday, the 3rd of March from 10 a.m. to 12 in the Fore noon. Then,
after a three-hour break, the sale continued from 3 p.m. until 5 p.m. These timings
were presumably designed to cater to the Lawnmarket trading hours, as well as to pro-
vide time for viewing hours, for pictures to be removed and to packed for transport.
The listings and instructions in the catalogue mimic London documents for auctions,
which had been circulating since 1674. The term “curious” was used in the Edinburgh
1697 catalogue to describe the picture collection, and then used frequently to describe
individual paintings (e.g. No.377. “A curious Landskip by Coxy”; No.420. “A large
prospect of Naples curiously painted”). In the early modern period “curious” used
this way meant “varied” and was used in many preceding auction catalogues.13 The
Edinburgh catalogue is laden with aesthetic language found in English precursors. The
81

text is persuasive, and the language is designed to stimulate sales. With value-laden
terms like “by a good hand” and “finely painted” or “rare,” the auction catalogue
hoped to capture the “virtuoso,” or elite collector, as well as pique the interest of
new buyers in the mercantile and professional ranks.14 Almost all the auctions were
held in London in the 1670s, gradually emerging in university cities like Oxford and
Cambridge, resort towns such as Epsom and Tunbridge Wells, and major ports like
Plymouth in the following decades. Catalogues were often made available to peruse
in a range of coffeehouses, where auctions often took place. Research has discerned
that later provincial auctions in England were often held in a “private residence or a
marketplace” while “London auctions were overwhelmingly located in coffeehouses
or taverns.”15
Coffeehouses were good exhibition spaces. Surviving images reveal English
coffeehouses had spacious interiors, with ample wall space for hanging pictures,
trestle tables and long benches or seats easily manoeuvred to accommodate temporary
displays, as well as a dais (where a proprietor might sit to serve coffee) that could
have been transformed into an auctioneer’s platform.16 Coffeehouses were opening in
Scotland by 1673, with the first in Edinburgh run by John Row in “Robertson’s Land,”
located just a three-minute walk from Gladstone’s Land on the west side of what is now
Parliament Square.17 In the same year in Glasgow, a Colonel Walter Whiteford opened
a coffeehouse on the corner of Trongate and Saltmarket.18 Glasgow’s Saltmarket was
equivalent to Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket, in terms of its role as a trading centre; in
1702, an auction of pictures was held here.
Coffeehouses in Scotland were carefully monitored by officials, as they became
places where politicians, lawyers, merchants, and literate citizens gathered to talk.
There was a concerted effort to ensure that the coffeehouse was seen as a place for
intelligent debate, not riotous (or revolutionary) behaviour. In the 1680s, the Scottish
Privy Council declared that coffeehouses were only allowed to sell or advertise news
approved by the bishop of Edinburgh, a clerk of the Privy Council, or a “responsible
officer of state.”19 It is why, when Edinburgh’s Town Council became aware of the cha-
otic and disruptive behaviour occurring at ship “roups” (auctions), the Keeper of the
Exchange (who was responsible for granting licenses for all auctions) was given the
job of ensuring they were contained within the orderly confines of the coffeehouse.20
As a “provincial” place (as Edinburgh may well have been viewed by an English auc-
tioneer), it is likely the auction was held in a private residence or a marketplace. There
is no mention of a coffeehouse in the 1697 catalogue.21 The language does distinguish
itself from the roup, promising an orderly sale with clear rules. The Conditions of Sale
provides guidance on what will occur if there is a disagreement on price: “…if any
difference arise by two more claiming any Lot, then the Picture to be re-exposed.”22
The catalogue exudes professionalism, copying the formality established by its English
predecessors. With five clear “Conditions of Sale,” the catalogue aims to connect with
a wide audience. First, it includes provision for new consumers by clarifying that an
auction literally means “that whoso bids most is the Buyer”; second, it is deferential,
gently stating that buyers be pleased to “give their Names, and places of abode, and
pay down a third part of the value of what they buy, if desired.” Third, it outlines the
flexibility of its pricing to tempt a broad consumer base. The default coinage is sterling
(another hint the auction is a derivative of its English predecessors), and the auction’s
conditions of sale take pains to stress how Scots money will be exchanged.23 Finally,
one condition notes: “That no person advance less than Six Pence Sterling on any Lot
91
Trading Spaces 19
exposed to Sale.” This is a sentence that conversely confirms quality while also adver-
tising low prices, in order to promote the auction to a range of customers.
Six pence sterling in 1697 translates to roughly six shillings five pence Scots. In rela-
tive terms, by the 1690s, most skilled workers like masons earned an average of 15 Scots
shillings a week, making it unlikely they’d have the time, money, or inclination, to spend
most of their weekly wage on a painting. However, Edinburgh had burgeoning pro-
fessional classes, with advocates, lawyers, and surgeons outnumbering the number of
merchants registered in the city by the late 17th century. A six-roomed apartment, on the
fourth storey of a newly built tenement further down the high street from Gladstone’s
Land, was purchased by a lawyer in the 1690s for £2,666 Scots.24 This lodging would
have consisted of a large hall, chambers, and closets, fit for the kinds for paintings being
advertised at the auction. An “original of K. James the 6 by Myyttèns to advance at 5L.
Sterling” is the only listing that mentions a starting price.25 £5 Sterling converted to £65
Scots, perhaps even out of reach for the wealthy lawyer. However, it is worth noting that
auction prices still tended to be significantly lower than paintings sourced from private
dealers, or commissioned directly from an artist. Scotland’s own portrait painter, David
Scougall (c.1610–1680), was already charging £24 Scots for a framed half-length and
£36 for a three-quarter length portrait by the 1660s, prices.26
The auction has prices and subject matter designed to cater to small rooms and
small budgets. Listings note the size of an artwork, its originality, and its artistic value.
64 paintings are specifically described as “small” and only 38 as “large.” There are
more paintings of working life and less depicting history, military, and mythological
subjects. Analysis of the subject matter shows that well over half of the 400+paintings
are of everyday scenes; with 50 still life’s (including birds and fruit pieces), over 65
images of peasants and family life, and nearly 150 landscapes (including winter scenes
and seascapes). As well as this, there are 90 royal portraits, many of which were
lockets or miniature versions of larger paintings by named artists like Van Dyck or
Titian. 20% of these pictures were of the Dutch and British King William and his
consort Queen Mary.27 Many Dutch and Flemish painters are mentioned by name,
including: de Meyer (likely Hendrik de Meyer, also known as Cornelis de Meijer, who
specialized in landscapes and coastal scenes, who had a career in Rotterdam from the
1640s) and Van Vleiger (likely Simon de Vlieger, a marine painter born in Rotterdam
c.1601 and worked in Amsterdam from 1638). For those listings that are unattrib-
uted, the language stresses other factors –such as size, quality, and subject matter,
which were of “paramount importance in the valuation process” in early modern art
markets, “especially for novice consumers.”28
The Consumer
The catalogue is a product of its time with a high percentage of landscapes and
everyday scenes painted by Dutch and Flemish artist and imported into Britain in
the 17th century, after a burgeoning art market in the Low Countries overflowed
onto British soil. The English traveller Peter Mundy noted of the Dutch in 1640: “As
for the art of painting and the affection of the people to Pictures, I think none other
go beyond them….”29 Mundy reported “bakers, cobblers, butchers, and blacksmiths
as avid art collectors,” a customer base that had changed the types of pictures being
produced and increased the demand for affordable art.30 Dutch and Flemish con-
sumers were forcing artists to “rethink their modus operandi in order to speed up the
02

production process and to increase their outputs,” which often meant leaving works
unsigned, focusing on small canvases, or copying popular styles.31
By the 1690s, Edinburgh’s Royal Burgh status no longer had a monopoly over the
sale of foreign goods. However, both Edinburgh and Glasgow were being fed imports
directly from ships arriving into the Forth and Clyde, from staple ports like Veere, in
the Dutch province of Zeeland, and Rotterdam, but also from London. There was a
domestic supply of pictures. English auctions were already calling for consignments,
and paintings were moving through a network of artists, auctioneers, and merchants.
As well as this, collectors moved pictures between their country estates and townhouses
in Scotland and England.32
It is estimated that as many as 25,000 paintings were hanging in properties
across Scotland by the end of the 17th century.33 Carol Gibson-Wood has looked at
English auction catalogues from 1689 to 1692 and house inventories between 1695
and 1715, discovering a consensus amongst connoisseurs that pictures were being
purchased more for their decorative qualities and less for their collectable value.34
Consumers were beginning to buy paintings as they might purchase a gown or a
piece of furniture in this era. And artists were catering to this; the painter Jonathan
Richardson described his trade as contributing to the art of “Ornamental furniture,”
for example.35 This shift in the consumption of paintings illustrates an emerging
market for art, where consumer activity is advancing from the domain of collector
towards the domain of the house owner –and thus the realm of interior decor-
ation and design. It is no accident that Edinburgh’s auction catalogue opens with the
statement “fit for Halls, Stair-Cases, Chambers and Closets…” for it is aimed at this
new consumer, which, in London, already consisted of drapers, haberdashers, glovers,
hosiers, stationers, chandlers, vintners, grocers, innkeepers, ironmongers, shipwrights,
skinners, poulterers, and fishmongers, all of whom are noted as having paintings in
their houses by the early 18th century.36
The very self-reflexive nature of Dutch and Flemish genre paintings on view in the
Edinburgh auction provides both a connection and reference point for those mer-
chant and professional classes trying to understand how pictures might fit in their
homes. Many paintings for sale would have literally offered a visual guide on how to
decorate your room with a new picture. Interior genre scenes, including “peasants”
cavorting in inns and taverns, often illustrated pictures hanging above mantels and
over doors, in halls and chambers. The 1697 catalogue has several entries for “a raree
show”: a perspective box with a three-dimensional interior. These optical devices were
made in the Dutch Republic from the 1650s and gave their owners a private view
of a domestic interior often enhanced using a peep hole. Such optical devices, like
the camera obscura, were known in intellectual circles by the 1690s.37 Early modern
vision was being understood by this decade as an act of observation that drew from
both internal and external “sensations.” John Locke’s Essay Concerning Human
Understanding (1690), for example, posited that the eye played an important role in
mediating a human’s understanding of, and connection to, their surroundings.38 While
Locke’s work would not have been known to most on Edinburgh’s high street, the
concept of “self” as a product of “bodily humours” was more widely understood. The
humours explained that human behaviour was guided by an individual’s constitution,
which in turn was shaped by spiritual and supernatural forces (it was thought that
people could quite literally absorb demonic and angelic spirits, for example). To be in
harmony was to have a balance of humours, and this connected your body to wider
12
Trading Spaces 21
society; when out of balance, the understanding was that both inner and outer forces
could aid your recovery. Thus, people did believe they literally absorbed the world
around them, through their breathe, their hearing, and their vision, and it affected
them physiologically.
Therefore, the act of observation and process of comprehension was both an indi-
vidual way of seeing and a physical social act that connected people through their
understanding of self.39 If the Dutch paintings themselves were a visual guide to
innovative interior design, they were also a window onto Edinburgh’s global trade.
Just being a spectator was enough to connect your body to the people around you
and the wider world, which perhaps allowed individuals to comprehend their place
in a cosmopolitan city. As Pittock has already suggested, buying a Dutch or Flemish
picture in 1697 would be less of a statement about being a collector and more about
declaring oneself a citizen of the world.40 The residents of the Lawnmarket ranged
from baxters and skinners to wrights and tailors, glovers and glaziers, all connected
through their physical experience as retailers using visual display to convert customers
into consumers.41 The auction was part of this observed and lived experience; there-
fore, its display practices must have echoed those of the marketplace.
The Auction House

The auction was held “over and against” –or opposite –Gladstone’s Land on the
“Land-Mercat”, the heart of trading in Edinburgh. It was steps away from the new
Parliament building, City Council rooms, the law courts, offices of the guilds, and
the inns for travellers. Gladstone’s Land was located on the wealthier north side
of the street, which had already benefitted from efforts to clean up the city. From
1680, the city council focused on improving conditions along the high street, including
upgrading deleterious buildings, wynds, and closes, repairing the roads and instigating
standards for building practices; all of which aimed to create a uniform aesthetic
along the high street and boost the economy.42 Just west of Gladstone’s Land was
Mylne’s Land, a new development of tenements and inner courtyards built by Robert
Mylne in 1690. It housed writers, apothecaries, watchmakers, lords, and ladies, some
of whom had commodious dwellings with seven or eight fireplaces.43
Gladstone’s Land itself had seven separate abodes with fireplaces. One apartment
was occupied by the dean of a guild who had six hearths and was charged £44s for the
privilege. In another, a wright, Robert Gairns, had two fireplaces and was charged £1. 8
shillings.44 Perhaps these are the kinds of customers the auction was hoping to attract?
In comparison, the tenements facing the High Street opposite Gladstone’s Land
were not as commodious. They were in such a ruinous state by the 1720s that, in
1726, they were sold by the town council to Captain George Riddell, a wright, who
rebuilt them and extended the tenement to five storeys, adding an attic floor and shops
at the ground level.45 At the time of the auction 30 years earlier, the street front was
probably only three storeys. There was still a mixture of tenants on this south side.
Behind the street façade (accessed through a pend) at 322–328 Lawnmarket were
the remains of a 1590s great house, built by Baille John McMorran. This included a
fore tenement, situated behind the street front buildings, and a back tenement, with
a southerly aspect over the Grassmarket and Canongate –the area of the city where
aristocrats built their mansions.46 Up towards the castle opposite Gladstone’s Land
is the West Bow –the tinsmiths and hammermen’s quarter – which was home in the
2
Figure 2.1 Title page of Edinburgh auction catalogue. National Records of Scotland, GD26/13/
271. With kind permission of the owner.
1690s to tradesmen like Robert and Thomas Moubray, who produced high-quality
marquetry, and Paul Roumieu, a French-born watchmaker.47
After McMorran died, his Land was sold in sections throughout the 17th century,
and the building was subdivided. In 1676, Sir John Clerk of Penicuik (first baronet,
1649–1722) took ownership of the southern “back tenement.” Sir John had grown
up with a father who was one of the first merchants to import art from the continent
into Scotland.48 Sir John’s back tenement in McMorran’s old house had a fashionable
plaster ceiling in a capacious room, with ample space for displaying pictures. On the
20th of May 1684, Sir John formally sold the property to Roderick Mackenzie (of
32
Trading Spaces 23
Figure 2.2 Page 5 of Edinburgh auction catalogue. National Records of Scotland, GD26/13/

271. With kind permission of the owner.
Preston Hall), together with a further four tenements of land on the south side of the
high street. It is likely that he owned the building within which the auction house
was set up in 1697. He was in the midst of building a great hall south of the city and
sold part of the back tenement (the upper lodging) to his brother George Mackenzie,
Viscount of Tarbat (later 1st Earl of Cromartie), sometime before May 1702, when
it was given, along with the “great gate,” the courtyard and a fore tenement that
bordered upon the high street, to his wife Margaret, Countess of Wemyss.49
Whether the auction house was down the pend and inside the rooms of the back
tenement, or situated on the high street, it is not known. However, there was plenty
of room to store paintings on this site. In 1684, there are 26 rooms recorded as
42

being in the back tenement alone, including vaults, pantries, and chambers. Several
“galleries” are noted, including a narrow one at the west end of the hall (a Scottish
term for a large living space). The word “gallery” derives from the French for covered
walk or passageway along a wall. In Scotland, it seems the term gallery denoted
a chamber in which decorative items were displayed. The 1631 inventory of the
Countess of Home’s Canongate mansion, Moray House, lists items in “the gallarie,”
which includes a couch bed of wrought satin that sits on a long Turkish carpet, a
wooden table, China work, a gilded elephant’s head, and over 30 “picktors.” There
are family portraits, landscapes and prospect views, pictures of country folk, Dutch
paintings, Greek mythology, and portraits of Royalty.50 It is a collection that echoes
the offerings at the 1697 auction.
While we do not know precisely what areas of the tenement building this auction
used, it is noted in the catalogue that customers are being invited to an “Auction
House” in the Land Mercat, which does suggest an internal space. It is possible
paintings were held in rooms off the Lawnmarket –perhaps being brought forward
in batches to be sold at street level. No. 483 Lawnmarket –Gladstone’s Land –still
survives as the earliest and most complete early 17th-century tenement. It has the
arcaded ground floor and dressed-stone frontage typical of Lawnmarket façades at
the time. The “piazza style” covered entrance was added in 1617 to display goods and
shelter customers approaching the window-booth.
Gladstone’s Land’s ground floor had commercial premises (noted as two booths)
on the high street, with a dwelling house of three rooms in the back and cellar rooms
below.51 In 1631, the basement and cellar of the land contained a tavern in a fore
cellar owned by a foreign goods merchant, John Riddoch. On the ground floor were
two small booths and a “pentis” (an adjoining shelter). These spaces were also occu-
pied by Riddoch who was selling all manner of imported goods, including spices and
cloth, tobacco, and rice. A back dwelling on the ground floor was occupied by James
Nicolsone, a guild officer.52
The building (or “land”) was still owned by the Gladstone family in the 1690s, who
tenanted the various apartments. The layout of the ground floor still contained two
shops, a dwelling in the back and the street arcade. This latter space was roughly six
foot deep.53 The two shops behind it were long and narrow, at roughly 18 ft deep and
8.5 ft wide.54 The right-hand shop was marginally smaller, and both spaces were awk-
ward, with uneven walls, low ceilings, and light only provided by the booth windows
and candles. If this seems confined, it is likely that the shop spaces were smaller and
less extensive on the south side of the street. Poll tax records from 1694 to 1699 show
a high concentration of wealth was in this north-west quadrant of Edinburgh where
Gladstone’s land was located.55 However, the southside was connected to the south-
west quadrant of the city, which was suffering from lack of investment and buildings
being divided and subdivided to accommodate a burgeoning populace.
As noted above, McMorran’s lodging (with back and fore tenements) lay behind
the buildings that faced the south side of the Lawnmarket. At some point during these
years, Roderick Mackenzie sold the lower lodging of the back tenement to his son-
in-law, Sir Thomas Stewart of Balcaskie, who is noted as having chambers and Lands
in this area of the city.56 It was sold again to Sir Archibald Mure, an ex-Provost of
Edinburgh, who subsequently died in 1708. The property’s sale document notes a ves-
tibule, a dining room and a gallery, a lower chamber, an upper chamber, and a stair in
the middle of the lodging. Other architectural features of note are the lockable “great
52
Trading Spaces 25
Figure 2.3 Interior of Riddle’s Court, from the entrance on the south side of Lawn Market,
Edinburgh, opposite Gladstone’s Land. The door in the foreground (bottom
right) leads into the fore tenement; the “Great Gates” can be seen straight ahead.
Image: Antonia Laurence Allen.
gate” that led into a courtyard and turnpike stairs to access lodging and rooms at all
levels.
The fore tenement (just behind the street-front buildings) had galleries and cellars
and was owned by an Edinburgh burgess Walter Rankin. It had been split into two
different properties and tenanted, the lower occupied by Catherine Hutchison and
the upper by Patrick Graham. Along this south section of the Lawnmarket, there are
properties with 2 tenants and those with over 20. Lands are owned by widows, or
individuals “on charitie,” and a small number of rooms are “waist” (empty).57 In and
amongst this dynamic and spatially complex site, the auction house opened its doors
62

for viewing in 1697. Spaces opposite Gladstone’s Land were continuously changing
hands, being purchased, subdivided, extended, and leased by people with different
varieties of professions and life experiences. As Pittock has argued, this group het-
erogeneity is what created dynamic links and fuels innovation.58 From the 1660s,
Edinburgh’s “compactness, cosmopolitanism… and intensive cultural and profes-
sional concentrations and networks” meant the city centre was a cultural dynamo,
with “fertile ground for the rapid spread of new influences” and ideas.59 A ripe atmos-
phere for a new kind of painting display.
Display
Display practices evolved from private dealers to public spaces, largely because the
merchants and artists who served the elite were also helping new consumers fur-
nish their homes. Penicuik, the art dealer (father of Sir John mentioned above, who
owned part of the tenement opposite Gladstone’s Land), had provided a service “long
before local authorities had encouraged formal channels for purchasing art.”60 He
had his own “cabinet” and helped other furnish theirs. In 1643, William, the 3rd Earl
of Lothian, had written to Penicuik, asking him for pictures to “fill my cabinet... that
place when I am at Home intertains [sic] me most…”61
The “cabinet of curiosities” was associated with trade and the discovery of new
worlds, its influence here being the exhibiting techniques it used to fit a great many
objects into a relatively small space. As Patrick Mauriès has recently explained (and
visually illustrated with paintings like The Sense of Sight (1617) by Peter Paul Rubens,
which shows a vast interior with pictures leaning against walls, propped up against
chairs and cupboards, sitting on shelves amongst marble busts and on tables laden
with jewels and scientific instruments), cabinets were for treasures and were dual in
nature:
…their intention was not merely to define, discover and possess the rare and
the unique, but also, and the same time, to inscribe them within a special setting
which would instil in them layers of meaning.62
In the first place, the cabinet was an extension of a reliquary, thus required a setting
associated with sanctuary and peace. Mauriès quotes Michel de Montaigne’s 16th-
century essay, “Of Solitude,” which directly places these sites of contemplation in
opposition to busy trading spaces.
We should set aside a room, just for ourselves, at the back of the shop, keeping it
entirely free and establishing our true liberty, our principal solitude and asylum.63
In this restorative space (inextricably linked to the place of work) was innovative
display; a range of shelves, boxes, drawers, frames, and niches to exhibit all manner
of objects, from desiccated marine animals to shells, arms, and costume. Paintings
were also part of this formative display and were sometimes found high up on walls,
marching around the room in tight formation, or neatly tucked under windows.
Invariably, however, there were always too many paintings for the room and so they
are often seen displayed in a more haphazard and crowded arrangement than other
objects. They are pictured scattered on tables, frames missing, leaning against one
72
Trading Spaces 27
another, jammed into corners, and so on. In a watercolour of a cabinet owned by
Johann Septimus, a wealthy connoisseur living in Nuremberg in the mid-17th century,
panoramic framed pictures hang neatly above one another on the right-hand wall,
which is covered with a pale fabric hanging loosely from a rail.64 These landscape
views are then surrounded and overlaid in places with smaller round-framed portraits.
Below this on the ground are framed and unframed canvases leaning unsystematically
against a linen chest, squeezed between a wall and an ancient sculpture, and lying on
a table covered by a book of sketches.
While it is true these spaces were confined to the wealthiest of consumers. The
lure of collecting was spreading into the merchant and professional classes by the
17th century. Even before this, the Belgian physician and artistic/scientific adviser to
Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, Samuel Quiccheberg, wrote what is believed to be the
first treatise on collecting and displaying. Published in 1565, Quiccheberg noted in
his title, that the reader will find “Inscriptions…of the most distinguished theatre…of
extraordinary materials and images…”65 He also specifically mentions that collecting
and displaying all manner of things, including pictures, was open for those with a
“moderate fortune” –presumably meaning it was not restricted to the nobility, but
also open to the merchants and professionals who traded and travelled. In his tract
Quiccheberg also references an array of exhibition and storage solutions, especially
recommended for those with limited space:
There is much that can be rolled up or folded and stowed away in slim cabinets,
small cupboards or boxes, but for which, when they are stretched out on the
broadest walls or exhibited on the widest tables or on measured display stands,
there would scarcely be room enough. But here, in addition to these cupboards,
chests, wall cabinets, tables and display stands, one must also call to mind that for
these practical purposes storage magazines may be of great use, as well as small
cupboards with folding doors, and likewise books with folding covers, and finally
stacked chests containing sundry works of art and prominently labelled.66
One hundred years later, in 1660, David Teniers the Younger, the court painter for
Archduke Leopold William in Brussels, published a treatise, titled Theatrum Pictorium
(Picture Theatre). It contained engraved reproductions of 243 paintings and seems to
have been the first illustrated catalogue of an art collection designed for a wide audi-
ence (rather than just an inner court circle).67 The concept of displays of art being
theatrical exhibitions was not alien to the Scottish people. In 1633, the Aberdonian
painter George Jamesone (c.1589/1590–1644) collaborated with the poet William
Drummond to devise a series of allegorical tableaux for pageants celebrating the
Scottish coronation of Charles I. Stages with curtains and backdrops were erected
along Edinnurgh’s high street, Jameson’s portraits of a Royal lineage culminated in
a picture of the newly coronated King and were hung along the Netherbow, a gate
leading onto the high street from the Canongate. Performers paraded through the
Lawnmarket and flags painted by craftsmen and artisans lined the route.68
The display of art was thus intricately bound to pageantry and public spectacle
for Edinburgh citizens, which in turn was allied with trade activity. Jamesone’s 1642
self-portrait illustrates his own mercantile display practices. He presents himself as
a master trader. Dressed in his finery, he clutches the tools of his trade (brushes and
palette) and gestures unreservedly at the paintings displayed in neat rows behind him.
82
Figure 2.4 Gladstone’s Land on north side of Lawn Market, Edinburgh. Arcade built and
front extended onto high street in 1617. Image: National Trust for Scotland,
Gladstone’s Land.
92
Trading Spaces 29
The paintings are packed side by side in a dense regimented style, crammed against
one another to suggest a workshop of limited space. Jamesone was well known for
manufacturing his own celebrity and simultaneously promoting excitement in patrons
for portraiture. He provided a portrait service to a burgeoning population of wealthy
merchants and “revolutionised how these affluent Scots viewed themselves” in a local
and global context.69 Yet, in this 1642 portrait, he is gesturing to a range of pictures
sketchily suggesting biblical or mythological subjects rather than portraiture. It has
been posited that this was a declarative display, actively promoting Jamesone as a
dealer of pictures.70
Jamesone’s arrangement of pictures seems typical of early modern display practices,
which primarily focus on maximizing space, and echo tactics used in sites both courtly
and commercial. Teniers’ mid-17th-century pictures documenting Archduke Leopold
Wilhem’s Brussel’s-based painting gallery similarly parade artworks in tight formation
along walls. These paintings also reveal a whole manner of ingenious display methods
aimed at exploiting every corner of the room.71 Pictures line the walls from floor to
the ceiling, like gilded patchwork. Cabinets, tables, and chairs are used to prop up
paintings. Life-size canvases lean against walls –often precariously balanced on one
corner –and support five or six smaller paintings. In one of Teniers illustrations of the
Brussel’s gallery (Prado collection), pictures have been strapped to a wooden balcony
that traverses the entrance, the paintings closest to the ceiling are hung at an angle,
leaning towards the viewer’s gaze. In others (Vienna Kunsthistorisches and Petworth
collections), a temporary wall is pictured, dividing the vast interior and doubling the
available wall space. This enormous screen has wooden legs that lift it from the floor,
so it rises magnificently and almost skims the ceiling.
While these are illustrations of a gallery found at the highest echelons of society,
the trade in art insured these practices of display filtered into the merchant classes,
through painters like Jamesone and picture dealers like Penicuik, as well as through
the eyes of those who had travelled to the Dutch Republic and Flanders and witnessed
art dealers selling vast quantities of pictures on high streets. The Quack (c.1619–1625)
is a painting of a Dutch street scene that focuses on the performance of a travelling
salesman. The swaggering charlatan, astride his horse, points to a large board covered
in portraits and inscriptions, some of which reads: “I have cured all these and more, as
attested to by my letters and certificates. I can also cure many hidden ailments in both
men and women…”72 This portable display, rigged up on a scaffold of long poles, is
visual evidence of how small paintings were displayed in marketplaces, similar to the
structural devices used by Jamesone in Edinburgh’s coronation pageant.
Even more intriguing, for its visual illustration of what an auction house might
look like from the street, is the small shop –pictured on the right side of the com-
position, in the mid-ground. A white dog sits on the corner, while a ghostly painted
figure leans towards a painting resting in the doorway. Inside, a man stands in front of
several framed pictures hanging on the left-hand wall, while a woman with ruff and
cap is framed by two paintings that lean precariously on the ledge of an open booth.
Similarly, a second window-booth around the corner has a painting teetering on its
ledge. A man in the shop’s interior might be reaching up to pull the painting in for a
closer look, or, perhaps passing it out through the booth to someone in the crowd.
Above this is a large painting of a seascape hanging by a white rope from a second-
storey window, under whose ledge are two portraits, somehow secured to the brick
exterior. Another painting perches on a neighbouring window ledge.
03
Figure 2.5 “The Quack” by an unknown painter c. 1619–1625. Oil on Panel. 67 cm × 90.7 cm.
Image: SK-A-1429 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
The experience of viewing art in a retail space can also be gleaned from illustrations
of bookshops. Dirck de Bray’s pen-and-ink illustrations show how art was displayed
inside small commercial spaces. Two men and a dog in a bookshop (1607–1678)
reveals what one might call a “public cabinet of curiosities,” with floor to ceiling
shelves stacked with papers, globes, pamphlets, and books. Paintings are attached
to the shelves in the background and line the wall opposite the counter, rising above
the heads of the two men who discuss the display. All the paintings are framed, some
are round and oval, there are portraits and landscapes, and most are small, easy
to access and presumably reasonably priced. This image demonstrates the spatial
design navigated by customers. And, while the images reference here are of Dutch
origin rather than Scottish, the influential professional, aristocratic, and mercantile
networks passing through Flanders and Holland in the 17th century make it
entirely plausible that these kinds of interiors were frequented by Scots who, in turn,
influenced collecting, dealing and the display of art in both Scotland’s private and
public spheres.73
Concluding Thoughts
Early modern display practices in auctions must have utilized the kinds of aesthetic
arrangements found in shops, booths, and stalls. This is for practical reasons, to do
13
Trading Spaces 31
Figure 2.6 “Men and two dogs in a bookshop” by Dirck de Bray 1607–1678. Pen in brown,
brush in grey. 76 mm × 76 mm. RP-T-1884-A-290 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
with limited space, but also for conceptual reasons, to do with being in a marketplace.
William Brereton, travelling in 1634 described Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket as a
“throng” of people, recounting:
This street, which may indeed deserve to denominate the whole city, is always
full thronged with people, it being the marketplace, and the only place where
the gentlemen and merchants meet and walk, wherein they may walk dry under
foot.74
The visual evidence of shops from the earliest times reveals densely packed displays.
A manuscript from the 15th century has an illustration of a medieval market scene,
with goods on exhibition at street level under a piazza-styled covered entrance (like
that still evident at Gladstone’s Land). The scene shows the sale of shoes, textiles, and
metalwork (including plates, goblets, and jugs). A large table covered in a green cloth
dominates the space where customers browse items brought forward from a large
wooden cabinet (storing textiles) and a temporary shelving unit (lined with table-
ware). To the side, a shoemaker has a small waist-height cabinet, at which a customer
is examining a pair of shoes. Above the door behind them are a pair of knee-high black
boots hanging from a long wooden peg. The display is accessible, organized, focused
on showing off goods and guiding the consumer on how to be a good customer. There
is time to peruse the items, communicate with others, and to pay securely.75
23

The trade in art and private collecting that preceded Edinburgh’s 1697 public
auction undoubtedly influenced the display and presentation of pictures to customers.
Art dealers, artists, and collectors maximized the space they had to display pictures in
tight formation, stacked against walls, laying on tables, resting on ledges, and squeezed
into corners. Based on its location in a trading space on Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket, the
display space (whether inside or out) would have certainly been a social and tactile
experience. The function of the auction is like retailing of all types, in that it plays an
integral part in allowing citizens to “upgrade themselves and their personal environ-
ments.”76 In this regard, the public sale of pictures would have fit squarely in the geo-
spatial marketplace of Edinburgh’s 1690s, which was being actively improved during
these years. It was held just across the road from Robert Mylne’s new housing devel-
opment, for example, which was attracting wealthier tenants and owners wishing to
furnish their rooms with pictures.
The auction must have been a resounding success as, three years later, a local artist,
the English painter Kenneth Smith, applied to Edinburgh’s council to hold an auction
of his own. He argued that he generally worked on commission from “some noblemen
and others” to provide pictures for their staircases, chambers, and closets. Presumably,
the public sale of art had provided keen competition, and he may have been in finan-
cial distress. The council granted him the license for one auction only, and he was
instructed to sell his pictures unframed, to ensure local wrights procured business.77
A public auction of paintings had been immediately accepted as a successful way to
trade. Sometime after this, in Glasgow’s Saltmarket –in the main trading site in the
city –another auction of pictures was announced:
At Glasgow in the second story of the trades land in the Salt-Mercat. This pre-
sent Thursday [written by hand] being the 7th [written by hand] of this instant
month of April [written by hand] 1702, will be sold by way of auction, (or who
bids most) a fine collection of pictures, some fit for halls, staircases, chambers and
closets. The sale will begin at 3 a Clock in the Afternoon precisely, and so con-
tinues till all are sold. The Pictures maybe seen and Catalogue had at the place of
Sale.78
This auction “Conditions of Sale” are the same as Edinburgh its predecessor, with
prices in sterling, the lowest price being six pence and the buyers given three days to
take away their pictures. There is, however, no offer of carriage or the services of an
“undertaker” to arrange cases for those wishing to send their pictures to the country.
Plus, buyers in Glasgow are only requested to pay a fourth of the price at the point of
sale, rather than the larger down payment of one third in Edinburgh’s earlier auction,
suggesting that the range of consumers has further expanded. It is also a much shorter
document with only 77 listings (if indeed this is the entire document), and it seems to
be a template (with blank spaces to add the month and date of a sale), evidence per-
haps that the 1702 sale was one of many held at this site. This Glasgow auction house
is noted as being “in the second storey” of the trades land, which means an interior
display, possibly covering more than one room. This lends credence to the notion that
the Edinburgh “auction house” used some of the Lawnmarket’s southside interior
spaces and areas lockable during the day and night, which have been detailed above.
While Kenneth Smith’s auction and the Glasgow catalogue require more study,79
they serve to underline how quickly the allure and value of the public auction caught
3
Trading Spaces 33
on. They are part of an “ongoing” moment to foster an early modern retail customer
and expand consumer culture. Geoff Dyer has explored how people who have not
met constantly encounter one another when they focus on similar ideas.80 Looking
specifically at how 20th-century photographers have concentrated on subjects in city
streets, Dyer’s theory explores the philosophy of sight to suggest that, by looking,
individuals unwittingly build relationships with one another and “extend a moment.”
Photography is often used to pin down the ephemeral, which is the reason Dyer’s
theory is so apposite here. The trading spaces in the Lawnmarket were ephemeral
sites and living and working on the Lawnmarket in the 1690s people were connected
by what they witnessed, whether they knew one another or not. Their eyes and senses
absorbed visual displays of goods, pageantry, and theatre and in doing so gained a
physical geo-spatial experience that was both momentary and long-lasting, because it
fed the body’s humours and thus united people.
The auction’s code of conduct, conditions of sale, range of prices, and the sheer
volume of paintings remind us that the 1697 auction’s aim was to connect with as
many people as possible. As a retail event, it would have seamlessly added to the
ongoing moment of consumerism on Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket. It was held in a
building that was evolving and on a street in constant movement; it would be inextric-
ably linked to the displays of goods that had come before it and those that appeared
after the last painting was sold.
Notes
1 Edinburgh auction catalogue. National Records of Scotland. Leven and Melville Muniments
GD26/13/271.
2 For example, Sander Karst, “Off to a New Cockaigne: Dutch Migrant Artists in London,
1660–1715,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art, Vol. 37, no. 1 (2013–
2014): 25–60; Brian Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship in the Auction Market of Later
Seventeenth-Century London,” Mapping Markets for Paintings in Europe, 1450- 1750,
edited by Neil de Marchi and Hans J. Van Miegrot (Turnhout: Brepolis, 2006): 263–284;
Carol Gibson-Wood, “Picture Consumption in London at the End of the Seventeenth
Century,” Art Bulletin, Vol. 84, no. 3 (2002): 491– 500; Brian Cowan, “Arenas of
Connoisseurship: Auctioning Art in Later Stuart England,” Art Markets in Europe, 1400-
1800, edited by Michael North and David Ormrod (Aldershot and Brookfield, VT: Ashgate,
1998); Anne- Sophie V.E. Radermecker, “Artworks Without Names: An Insight into
the Market for Anonymous Paintings,” Journal of Cultural Economics, Vol. 43 (6 April
2019): 443–483. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10824-019-09344-5; Frederico Etro and Elena
Stepanova, “The Market for Paintings in the Netherlands During the Seventeenth Century,”
Working Paper, Department of Economics University of Venice, No. 16 (2013). https://eco
npapers.repec.org/RePEc:ulb:ulbeco:2013/1673.
3 Murray Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City: Edinburgh’s Civic Development 1660-
1750 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2019).
4 Fern Insh, “An aspirational era? Examining and defining Scottish visual culture 1620-1707”
(PhD diss., University of Aberdeen, 2014), 3.
5 Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City, 28–34.
6 Pittock mentions Helen Smailes’ contribution to this observation. Enlightenment in a Smart
City, 135.
7 The minimum investment in the scheme to set up a colony in the Isthmus of Panama was
£100. The 1696 investment books for the Darian company lists money given by nobles,
merchants, and women and shows individuals joining forces with smaller sums in order
43

to reach the minimum threshold. See Douglas Watt, The Price of Scotland: Darien, Union
and the Wealth of Nations (Edinburgh: Luath Press, 2007): 49–63; and W. Douglas Jones,
“ ‘The Bold Adventurers’: A Quantitative Analysis of the Darien Subscription List,” Scottish
Economic and Social History, Vol. 22, no. 1 (2001): 22–42.
8 Francis Bamford describes these links and associations in: “A Dictionary of Edinburgh
Wrights and Furniture Makers 1660–1840,” Furniture History, Vol. 19 (1983): 1–37.
9 Karen Bowie, “Public, People and Nation in Early Modern Scotland”, Royal Historical
Society 2016 David Berry Prize (2016: unpublished): 6–7. http://eprints.gla.ac.uk/217290/
1/217290.pdf.
10 The first book auction in Edinburgh was held down from Gladstone’s Land on the north side
of the High Street. It was operated by Reverend David Freeburn. Pittock, Enlightenment in
a Smart City, 90.
11 Anne Meadows, “Collecting Seventeenth Century Dutch Painting in England 1689–1760”
(PhD diss., University College London, 1988), 137.
12 James Holloway, Patrons and Painters: Art in Scotland 1650-1760 (Edinburgh: Scottish
National Portrait Gallery, 1989): 33–39.
13 Frits Lugt’s Repertory of Catalogues of Public Sale Concerned with Art or Objets d’art
lists many catalogues during this period with similar titles, https://brill.com/view/db/asco
(accessed 3 May 2021).
14 Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship,” 1. Also, Brian Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee: The
Emergence of the British Coffeehouse (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005): 135.
15 Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship,” 4. Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee, 134–138.
16 See Drawing of a London Coffee-House, c. 1690–1700 by an unknown artist. British
Library Collections. Shelfmark: 1931.0613.2. www.bl.uk/collection-items/drawing-of-a-
london-coffee-house-c-1690-1700.
17 Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City, 59. Alexander Fenton, Food of the Scots (John
Donald: Edinburgh, 2007): 108. Janet Starkey, “Food for Thought: Coffee, Coffee-Houses
and le bon gout in Edinburgh During the Scottish Enlightenment,” Book of the Old
Edinburgh Club, New Series, Vol. 14 (2018): 23–44, 29.
18 Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660- 1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas
(Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003): 41.
19 Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee, 203.
20 Insh, “An Aspirational Era,” 185. Quoting, James D. Marwick and Marguerite Wood,
“14th of January 1687,” Extracts from the Records of the Burgh of Edinburgh, 1st ed.
(Edinburgh: Printed for the Scottish Burgh Records Society, 1869): 19. In October 1696,
magistrates were appointed to “adjust the conditions of the roup,” presumably because
they were still unruly affairs. “Edinburgh Town Council Minutes 1694-1697” (14 October
1969), Edinburgh Town Council Archives. Sl1/1/35. 291.
21 There is no mention of a coffee house in this area of the Lawnmarket in 1697.
22 Insh, “An Aspirational Era,” 185. Insh notes how the language in the auction catalogue
aimed to distance itself from the chaos of a roup.
23 After the Union of the Crowns in 1604, Scotland was to use the same coinage standards as
England. Yet the value of Scots coins in existence were still less than sterling. By 1697, £13
Scots pounds was equivalent to £1 Sterling.
24 Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City, 93.
25 Edinburgh Auction Catalogue. 7. Presumably, this refers to Daniël Mijtens (c.1590-1647/
48), a Netherlandish painter who came to England in 1618 and first painted James VI
in 1621.
26 Insh, “An Aspirational Era,” 143.
27 William was crowned in 1688 and deposed James VII of Scotland. David, 3rd Earl of Leven,
had acted as a “confidential agent” to the prince while in Holland in 1683. The Earl went
53
Trading Spaces 35
on to raise a Scots regiment for the Dutch service and fought against the Jacobite forces at
Killiekrankie in 1689. He then returned to serve the Dutch in Flanders in 1692.
28 Radermecker, “Artworks without Names,” 53.
29 Peter Mundy, The Travels of Peter Mundy in Europe, and Asia, 1608-1667, ed. Richard
C. Temple (London: Printed for the Hakluyt Society, 1925): 129. https://archive.org/details/
travelspetermun00mundgoog/page/n128/mode/2up
30 Ibid.
31 Radermecker, “Artworks without Names,” 48.
32 Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship,” 9.
34 Carol Gibson-Wood, “Picture Consumption in London at the End of the Seventeenth
Century,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 84, no. 3 (2001): 491–500.
36 City of London household inventories (1693– 1713) listing paintings. Gibson- Wood,
“Picture Consumption,” 492.
37 The technology of the camera obscura was starting to circulate in wider scholarly circles
by the 17th century. Giambattista della Porta, an Italian scholar, used the camera obscura
to explain how the human eye operated. But it was the German astronomer Johannes
Kepler who was the first to coin the term “camera obscura,” in 1604. In 1685, Johann
Zahn, the German cleric, published “Oculus Artificialis Teledioptricus Sive Telescopium”
(The Long-Distance Artificial Eye, or Telescope), in which he describes the effects and
functions of optical instruments, including the camera obscura, lanterns, slides, peepshow
boxes, telescopes, microscopes, and lenses. See Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the
Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, 1992).
38 John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690), quoted by Crary,
Techniques of the Observer, 40.
39 For more on this, see Jerrold Seigel, The Idea of the Self: Thought and Experience in
Western Europe Since the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2005). The humours were blood, phlegm, and black and yellow bile, each one associated
with physical and social characteristics, e.g. people with yellow bile had pale skin, were
bitter, short-tempered, and ambitious.
41 Cox and Dannehl note that retailing is an activity specifically designed to turn a customer
into a consumer. Nancy Cox and Karin Dannehl, Perceptions of Retailing in Early Modern
England (Hampshire: Ashgate, 2007): 11.
43 “Hearth tax records for Midlothian, volume 2 (Edinburgh city)” notes: “Mr Millns
new land” and includes 26 tenanted apartments, including: Walter Scott Glasier - -3
[hearths] –[charge] £2.2.0; Mr King apothecarie [sic] a shop --1 --£0.14.0; John Reynold
Apothecarie -- 7 -- £4.18.0; John Cockburn a shop --1 --£0.14.0; Alexander Campbell
Mercht [Merchant] -- 8 -- £5.12.0; The Lady Eckils --5 --£3.10.0; Hugh Crawford --7 --
£4.18.0; Sir James Rocheid --7 --£4.18.0; Lourance olivant writter [sic] --5 --£3.10.0…’
E69/16/2/10. Hearth Tax Records for Midlothian, volume 2 (Edinburgh city) /E69/16/
2/78. ScotlandsPlaces, https://scotlandsplaces.gov.uk/digital-volumes/historical-tax-rolls/
hearth-tax-records-1691-1695/hearth-tax-records-midlothian-volume-2-edinburgh-city/78
(accessed September 2021).
44 ScotlandsPlaces, “Hearth Tax Records.”
45 1663 Act empowered burghs to seize houses fronting their High Streets, which had lain
ruinous for three years, and sell them at valuation. Edinburgh Town Council sold these
tenements to Riddell in June 1726.
63

46 Including the Dukes of Hamilton and Queensberry, the Countesses of Tweeddale and
Lothian; the EarIs of Breadalbane, Haddington, Dalhousie, Panmure, and Moray.
47 Bamford, “A Dictionary of Edinburgh Wrights,” 8.
49 Thanks to Emma Oliver for sharing research on occupants of Riddle’s Court and Michael
Cressey et al., “Riddle’s Court, Lawnmarket, Edinburgh: Historic Building Survey Report
No. 2164” (Edinburgh: CFA Archaeology Ltd., 2013). Roderick Mackenzie was building a
home south of Edinburgh during these years called Prestonhall.
50 Thanks to Michael Pearce for sharing: “Inventory of Moray House, the Canongate
home of Mary, Countess of Home” (Research on Moray Papers, NRAS 217 box 5 no. 5:
October 2017).
51 Addyman Archaeology. Gladstone’s Land, Historic building survey and analytical
assessment, for the National Trust for Scotland. (Unpublished report, 2015). Quoting the
Historical Monuments (Scotland) Commission. 76.
52 Information has been gathered since 2015, by several researchers initially contributing
to a symposium and social history report on Gladstone’s Land. This has been compiled
into an unpublished volume, Jennifer Melville, ed., Gladstone’s Land: Social and Cultural
History (Edinburgh: National Trust for Scotland, 2018) and used in new guidebook for
visitors: Gladstone’s Land, edited by Anna Brereton and Kate Stephenson (2021).
53 It measures 1800 mm at the deepest point (5.91 ft).
54 The exact measurements vary as the walls are not straight in either shop. At its widest point
the left-hand (facing) shop is 2,633 mm and the right-hand shop is 2,461 mm. At their
longest depths, the left-hand shop is 4,665 mm and the right-hand shop is 5,622 mm.
55 Peter McNeill and Hector MacQueen (eds.), Atlas of Scottish History to 1707
(Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh, 1996), https://scotlandsplaces.gov.uk/digital-volu
mes/published-gazetteers-and-atlases/atlas-scottish-history-1707/atlas-scottish-history-
1707 (accessed September 2021).
56 ScotlandsPlaces, “Hearth Tax Records” (1691), 100.
57 ScotlandsPlaces, “Hearth Tax Records” (1691), 93–114.
58 Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City, 28. Quoting Clé Lesger, The Rise of the Amsterdam
Market and Information Exchange (London: Routledge, ebook 2016), specifically how the
rise of innovation is linked to the combining forces of a dense concentrated populace and a
cosmopolitan social structure.
59 Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City, 30–32.
61 “Letters from (William, 3rd) Earl of Lothian to John Clerk in France.” Letters, 1643–1644.
Papers of Clerk family of Penicuik, Midlothian. National Records of Scotland. NRS: GD18/
2440/9. Quoted by Insh, “An Aspirational Era,” 157.
62 Patrick Mauriès. Cabinets of Curiosities (London: Thames and Hudson, compact edition,
2019): 25. The painting Sense of Sight is by Jan Brueghel and Peter Paul Rubens, now in the
Prado, Madrid, and is one in a series titled The Five Senses.
63 Michel de Montaigne (1533–1592) “Of Solitude,” Essays of Michel de Montaigne, trans.
Charles Cotton, ed. William Carew Hazlitt (1877), Chapter 38, www.gutenberg.org/files/
3600/3600-h/3600-h.htm Quoted in Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities, 20.
64 Watercolour drawing by Michael Kerr (1591–1661), University Library, Erlangen. Picture
published in Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities, 16–17.
65 Samuel Quiccheberg, The First Treatise on Museums. Samuel Quiccheberg’s Inscriptions
1565, trans. Mark A. Meadow and Bruce Robertson (Los Angeles, CA: Getty Publications,
2013).
66 Quiccheberg quoted in Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities, 167.
67 See Van Claerbergen and Ernst Vegelin (eds.), David Teniers, and the Theatre of Painting
(London: Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery, 2006).
73
Trading Spaces 37
68 See Bill Findlay (ed.), A History of Scottish Theatre. (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 1998); Duncan
Thomson, The Life and Art of George Jamesone (1589 or 1590-1644) (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1974); and Insh, “An Aspirational Era.”
70 Thomson does note that he found no explicit evidence for this. Thomson, The Life and Art
of George Jamesone, 158.
71 These paintings were completed before 1659, when the Archduke moved to Vienna; they
depict displays in Leopold’s Brussels gallery. The paintings are now located in various
collections. Those mentioned here date from 1639 to 1651 and are in: the “New Palace” at
Schleißheim Palace, near Munich; the Prado, Madrid; Petworth House, West Sussex; and
the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.
72 www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/SK-A-1429
73 Studies have shown how the economic and cultural links between Scotland and the Low
Countries influenced the design of architecture, painted interiors, and the consumption
of goods. See, for example, Alexander Fleming and Roger Mason (eds.), Scotland and
the Flemish People (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2019); Julia Lloyd Williams, Dutch Art and
Scotland: A Reflection of Taste (Edinburgh: National Gallery of Scotland, 1992); Michael
Bath, Renaissance Decorative Painting in Scotland (Edinburgh: National Museum of
Scotland, 2003).
74 William Brereton, Travels in Holland, the United Province, England, Scotland, and Ireland
1634-35 (London: Printed for the Chetham Society, 1825): 102, www.ebooksread.com.
75 A 15th- century engraving (with later colouration) depicting a shoemaker, a dealer in
woollens, and a goldsmith, after a miniature featured in Nicolas Oresme’s translated 15th-
century manuscript of Aristotle’s “Ethics and Politics.” Image online at www.granger.com.
76 Cox and Dannehl, Perceptions of Retailing, 25.
77 Brian Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship,” 5.
78 “At Glasgow in the Second Story of the Trades Land in the Salt-Mercat.” Auction Catalogue
(1702). Special Collections, National Library of Scotland. NLS.1.42(29).
79 See Insh, “An Aspirational Era,” Chapter 5.
80 Geoff Dyer, The Ongoing Moment, paperback ed. (London: Abacus, 2007).
References
Francis Bamford describes these links and associations in: “A Dictionary of Edinburgh Wrights
and Furniture Makers 1660-1840,” Furniture History, Vol. 19 (1983): 1–137.
Michael Bath, Renaissance Decorative Painting in Scotland (Edinburgh: National Museum of
Scotland, 2003).
Karen Bowie, “Public, People and Nation in Early Modern Scotland,” Royal Historical Society
2016 David Berry Prize, Unpublished (2016).).
William Brereton, Travels in Holland, the United Province, England, Scotland, and Ireland
1634-35 (London: Printed for the Chetham Society, 1825).
Van Claerbergen and Ernst Vegelin (eds.), David Teniers, and the Theatre of Painting (London:
Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery, 2006).
Brian Cowan, “Arenas of Connoisseurship: Auctioning Art in Later Stuart England,” Art
Markets in Europe, 1400-1800, edited by Michael North and David Ormrod (Aldershot,
Brookfield: Ashgate, 1998): 153–166.
Brian Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee: The Emergence of the British Coffeehouse (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2005).
Brian Cowan, “Art and Connoisseurship in the Auction Market of Later Seventeenth-Century
London,” Mapping Markets for Paintings in Europe, 1450-1750, edited by Neil de Marchi
and Hans J. Van Miegrot (Turnhout: Brepolis, 2006): 263–284.
83

Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth
Century (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1992).
Geoff Dyer, The Ongoing Moment, paperback ed. (London: Abacus, 2007).
Alexander Fenton, Food of the Scots (John Donald: Edinburgh, 2007).
Bill Findlay (ed.), A History of Scottish Theatre (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 1998).
Alexander Fleming and Roger Mason (eds.), Scotland and the Flemish People (Edinburgh:
Birlinn, 2019).
Carol Gibson-Wood, “Picture Consumption in London at the End of the Seventeenth Century,”
Art Bulletin, Vol. 84, no. 3 (2002): 491–500.
James Holloway, Patrons and Painters: Art in Scotland 1650-1760 (Scottish National Portrait
Gallery: Edinburgh, 1989): 33–39.
Fern Insh, “An Aspirational Era? Examining and Defining Scottish Visual Culture 1620-1707”
(PhD diss., University of Aberdeen, 2014).
Clare Jackson, Restoration Scotland, 1660- 1690: Royalist Politics, Religion and Ideas
(Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003).
W. Douglas Jones, “‘The Bold Adventurers’: A Quantitative Analysis of the Darien Subscription
List,” Scottish Economic and Social History, Vol. 22, no. 1 (2001): 22–42.
Sander Karst, “Off to a New Cockaigne: Dutch Migrant Artists in London, 1660–1715,”
Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art, Vol. 37, no. 1 (2013–2014): 25–60.
Patrick Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities (London: Thames and Hudson, compact edition, 2019).
Peter McNeill and Hector MacQueen (eds.), Atlas of Scottish History to 1707 (Edinburgh:
University of Edinburgh, 1996).
Anne Meadows, “Collecting Seventeenth Century Dutch Painting in England 1689-1760” (PhD
diss., University College London, 1988).
Jennifer Melville (ed.), Gladstone’s Land: Social and Cultural History (Edinburgh: National
Trust for Scotland, 2018).
Peter Mundy, The Travels of Peter Mundy in Europe, and Asia, 1608-1667, edited by Richard
C. Temple (London: Printed for the Hakluyt Society, 1925).
Murray Pittock, Enlightenment in a Smart City: Edinburgh’s Civic Development 1660-1750
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2019).
Samuel Quiccheberg, The First Treatise on Museums. Samuel Quiccheberg’s Inscriptions 1565,
trans. Mark A. Meadow and Bruce Robertson (Los Angeles: Getty Publications, 2013).
Anne-Sophie V.E. Radermecker, “Artworks Without Names: An Insight into the Market for
Anonymous Paintings,” Journal of Cultural Economics, Vol. 43 (6 April 2019): 443–483.
Jerrold Seigel, The Idea of the Self: Thought and Experience in Western Europe Since the
Seventeenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).
Janet Starkey, “Food for Thought: Coffee, Coffee- Houses and le bon gout in Edinburgh
During the Scottish Enlightenment,” Book of the Old Edinburgh Club, New Series, Vol. 14
(2018): 23–44, 29.
Duncan Thomson. The Life and Art of George Jamesone (1589 or 1590–1644). (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1974).
Douglas Watt, The Price of Scotland: Darien, Union and the Wealth of Nations (Edinburgh:
Luath Press, 2007): 49–63.
Julia Lloyd Williams, Dutch Art and Scotland: A Reflection of Taste (Edinburgh: National
Gallery of Scotland, 1992).
93
3
The Discourse of the Salon
Isabelle Pichet
The Salons of the Académie Royale de Paris have always been considered the birth-
place of art criticism, but they are rarely looked at from a museological point of view;
that is, until very recently, the discursive power of these exhibitions has not been
extensively studied. It should be noted that research in recent years is tending to revise
this previous conception.1
Here, I mean by “discursive power” the fact that exhibitions such as the Salon de
Paris –or, more precisely, how they were hung –offered a public space that favoured
the emergence of personal and collective opinion, as well as the development of social
thought.2 In this article, I look specifically at the 1753 Salon and at the work of
Jacques-André Portail3 (1695–1759), the tapissier who was responsible for hanging
the works in the exhibition space, to see how the positioning of the works on dis-
play influenced the spectator’s gaze. My analysis is based on the image of the Salon
produced by Gabriel de Saint-Aubin4 (Figure 3.1), the written commentaries produced
at the time of the exhibition,5 and the Salon’s livret.6
It is important to point out that all types of exhibitions offer a discourse, which
is constructed around the interactions and relations that emerge from the sta-
ging presented by the exhibition curator. This staging of works and the resulting
interactions reveal meaningful moments, that is to say discursive nodes, that are laid
out in a sequence to generate an expographic discourse.7 In the Salons, the choices
that the tapissier –Portail, in this case –made when designing the hanging of the
exhibition also forged discursive nodes and, in turn, an expographic discourse.8 It is
this discourse and these nodes, described by the critics, that I bring to the surface in
this article.
Contrary to the idea that the hanging of the works at the Salon was totally chaotic
and random, certain basic rules structured the general organization and allowed for
the creation of a coherent and revelatory discourse for the public to view. These basic
rules or conventions governing the organization of the paintings were as follows: Salon
style, characteristics, symmetry, hierarchy of genres or academic rank, taste, and har-
mony.9 In a Salon-style exhibition, the frames of the works are placed very close
together. The composition of this mosaic, which characterized almost all exhibitions
in the 18th century,10 creates the impression of an independent second wall around
the Salon that, in a way, replaces the architecture of the space. The works become
windows to a world –the fictional world of the exhibition.11 The characteristics
convention,12 linked to the aesthetic and poetic qualities of the works, allowed the
tapissier (and the public) to generate relationships and interactions among the artistic,
material, conceptual, and other qualities and aspects of the works presented at the
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-5
04
40 Isabelle Pichet
Figure 3.1 Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, Vue du Salon en l’année 1753, etching, 15.8 × 19.3 cm.
Courtesy: National Gallery of Art, Washington.
Salon. Symmetry, in the 18th century, one of the basic tenets of both architecture and
academic thought, underpins the spatial arrangement of all the works.13 It allows the
eye, which naturally seeks to establish symmetry, to detect differences or inequalities
in each element or in the whole. The convention of hierarchy, for its part, was not only
manifest in common pictorial genres; it was also apparent in the physical qualities of
the works, and the relative rank of the members of the Académie. It was also funda-
mental to the kind of control that the institution sought to exercise over art produc-
tion and artists alike. It gave rise, among other things, to the distribution of works by
genre in the Salon. The paintings hung highest on the walls were of larger dimensions
and generally related to the noblest genres. In this way, the hanging itself served to
establish qualitative contrasts: high versus low, big versus small. Taste is a criterion
of judgement that combines qualities such as erudition and intuition, which everyone
can possess or develop –some with more ease and accuracy than others, for all kinds
of reasons that have nothing to do with social status.14 It is therefore a universally sub-
jective convention that guides the tapissier in the composition of an ensemble that is
pleasing to the eye, on one hand, and that allows the public to appreciate the spectacle
and make a more informed judgement, on the other hand. Finally, harmony refers
14
The Discourse of the Salon 41

to the balance obtained in the distribution of the works within the exhibition space.
Because harmony is required for a composition to be considered successful, other
conventions are subordinated to this result.15 However, it should be noted that these
rules operate not in a vacuum but in relation to one another; they are juxtaposed,
mingling and intertwining, and become the instruments of the ordering and reception
of the expographic discourse.
Employment of these conventions as a regulating principle for the exhibition layout
enabled the tapissier to organize an overall grouping that was, for its viewers, coherent.
The knowledge and recognition of these conventions, whether through practice or
through education, would facilitate the comprehension and reading of the exhibition’s
discourse and give rise to discussions and conversations among the public both at
the Salon and in society. These exchanges on the similarities and contrasts offered
in the exhibition would produce a model for interpretation: comparison. Thus, the
conventions would guide Salon visitors in reading the hanging of the works, and then
enable them to formulate a discourse; the critiques and comments written about the
Salon thus became explicit testimonials to the discursive power of the exhibition. It
must not be forgotten that the tapissier also had to respond, more or less precisely, to
academic prerogatives and inscribe the institution’s official discourse in his distribu-
tion of the works.
The 1753 Salon opened, as was custom, on 25 August, St. Louis Day, and continued
until 25 September. Responsibility for laying out the exhibition in 1753 belonged to
Jacques-André Portail (1695–1759), Dessinateur du Roi, still-life painter, and respon-
sible for the royal maps and paintings at Versailles; he had been officially named to
the position of tapissier on 5 August 1741. Interestingly, Portail actually became an
academician, and thus an official member of the institution, only on 24 September
1746, after having acted as tapissier for the Salon for more than five years. Because
of this, he could not take advantage of the right to exhibit in the Salon during those
years. The role played by the tapissier in the organization of works in the Salon was
not yet, from this point of view, fully assimilated by the institution. It was therefore
predictable that the Académie exerted less authority over Portail’s work as a tapissier,
particularly before 1746; until the end of the 1740s, the Académie did not seem aware
of the power exercised by the Salon and the tapissier over the art world. It was also
at this time that the directors of the King’s Buildings, Le Normant de Tournehem
(1746–1751) and then the Marquis de Marigny (1751–1773), began to maintain
a more assiduous correspondence with Portail. It should be noted that the Salons
were presented annually from 1737 to 1748, then in 1750, and starting in 1751 they
became biennial until the abolition of the Académie un 1793.16
I gained access to the expographic discourse of the 1753 Salon, or the reconstruc-
tion of some of its meaningful moments, through respondents’ comments in that same
year.17 These writings, like Saint-Aubin’s illustration (Figure 3.1), are rich and quite
voluble in terms of material and aesthetic descriptions of the paintings, and especially
of the relations formed among the works in the space. Critics positioned the works
in relation to one another, compared them, and evoked the effects of proximity as
produced by these encounters, both on the works and in the eye of the spectator –dir-
ectly suggesting that the hanging affected their judgement –without always giving real
clues about their specific location in the space of the Salon Carré.
For example, Garrigues de Froment noted, “Les portraits peints par M. Nattier18
sont placés au-dessus de ceux de M. de la Tour”19 and “De M. Nattier, je passe à
24
42 Isabelle Pichet

M. Tocqué;20 leurs Ouvrages se suivent.”21 It is clear that relationships, comparisons,
or exchanges emerged from this proximity, but the specific location of the paintings
on the walls is difficult to identify. Thus, certain nodes were delineated or formed, in
whole or in part: multiple comments concerning some of these relationships and cer-
tain paintings made it possible to understand the impact of these nodes, and of the
characteristics of the works, on the spectator’s gaze. The interactions that appeared
among the works and formed these discursive moments stood out from the exhibition
as a whole, revealing the expographic discourse constructed by Portail that influenced
and guided the public’s visit.
However, an analysis of the texts about and of the hanging of the 1753 Salon makes
it possible to highlight numerous meaningful nodes, and below I discuss some of the
ones that are representative of the hanging layout constructed by Portail –which,
I should note, I have sometimes discerned by deduction rather than through a clear
affirmation. Although Portail held the position of tapissier for many years, during
which he probably developed certain working principles, we do not know much about
the details of his approach or practices.22 A comment written by Étienne La Font de
Saint-Yenne (1688–1771) in 1754, concerning a work by Charles-Michel-Ange Challe
(1718–1778) designed to adorn a ceiling and exhibited at the 1753 Salon, indicates,
however, that Portail took certain specific aspects of the paintings into consideration
in the construction of the exhibition layout. La Font de Saint-Yenne wrote, “Mais le
tableau n’étant qu’incliné, l’on ne saurait parfaitement juger de la perspective qu’il ne
soit arrêté sur son plan horizontal.”23 La Font de Saint-Yenne’s interest in the hanging
of this work demonstrates the effect that the arrangement of works in the exhibition
space could produce –which in this case, he asserts, is not very convincing because the
incline is not as great as it should have been –and reveals Portail’s desire to create a
proper presentation for each work. Not being able to hang Challe’s work directly on
the ceiling, Portail used particular aspects of the exhibition hall and certain hanging
techniques to highlight the work, trying to respect its specificities by inclining/angling
it so that the public could view it as intended.
Put together, the various elements described in the commentaries return a certain
materiality to the Salon. These clues, reassembled, lead to a part of the reconstruction
of the space, its main characteristics, and the exhibition layout. A single comment,
such as “Au-dessus de l’escalier, est un Tableau allégorique à la gloire du Roi. C’est
M. de la Joue qui en est l’Auteur,”24 allows the reader to position the work within
the Salon Carré, by using the staircase as a spatial reference point. This remark does
not make it possible to identify the precise placement of this painting in the Salon
but implicate that it is hanging on the west wall of the Salon Carré, which does not
appear in Saint-Aubin’s illustration. In addition, given that this work portrayed a sub-
ject linked to the king, one can easily presume that it occupied an important, perhaps
central, position so that visitors would remark upon it. This supposition denotes the
interest in and use of certain conventions in the construction of the exhibition layout,
including that of hierarchy.
Other spatial characteristics that are brought forth in the authors’ writings provide
the reader with a point of reference for virtually reconstructing the space of the Salon.
For instance, Huquier observes:
Dans l’embrazure d’une croisée, il y a un Cadre qui renferme plusieurs Portraits

en miniature. C’est Monsieur Drouais qui en est l’Auteur; je ne connois qu’un
34

seul de ces Portraits, on dit que c’est celui de M. Jeliotte25 ... Il y en a d’autres
aussi en miniature de M. Vénevault26 qui ont beaucoup de mérite: j’en ai reconnu
deux, celui de M. Brochant le fils, & celui de Mlle. Bausmenard de la Comédie
Françoise.27
Of course, Portail was obliged to position some of the works in particular places,
but how did he make the choices that Huquier describes, and for what reasons, aside
from the fact that the works were smaller in size? Saint-Aubin’s illustration does not
provide a view of this hanging, as it does not reproduce these works, but it is possible
to deduce that they were hung quite inconveniently. A remark by critic Marc Antoine
Laugier puts into words the essential role of light and the hindrance that it caused to
visitors’ perception of certain works. Of Delobel’s work Avènement de Henri IV à la
couronne de France,28 he observes, “Ce Tableau a été placé si désavantageusement
dans l’entre-deux des fenêtres, qu’il m’a été impossible d’en rien voir.”29 Obviously, the
backlighting created by the position of this painting in the space affected the visitor’s
gaze –and, moreover, the ability to properly view and admire the works found in the
different sections of this wall, between the windows.
Therefore, an analysis of critics’ writings makes it possible to reconstruct one of
the important meaningful nodes in the Salon and to better grasp the subtleties of the
discourse put forth by Portail. For instance, an evocative node seems to take shape
in authors’ descriptions of a grouping of works by Chardin, Jeaurat, Nattier, and de
la Tour. First, an anonymous author wrote, following his commentary on Chardin’s
works,30 “Je vois à leur côté les productions d’un homme d’esprit.”31 This “homme
d’esprit” (intelligent man) is none other than the artist Jeaurat, whom Garrigues
de Froment also wrote about: “Les Tableaux de M. Jeaurat32 m’ont rapproché des
portraits du célèbre, de l’immortel M. de la Tour.”33 Another commentary enhances our
understanding of this specific part of the exhibition, as Huquier writes, “M. Peronneau
suit de près De la Tour. Ses deux Portraits de réception sont universellement admirés;
l’un est celui de M. Oudry, & l’autre celui de M. Adam l’aîné.”34 The same perimeter
seems to have also contained works by Nattier35 and Tocqué.36 This evocative and
notable node was therefore constructed around certain works by Chardin that were
hung near those by Jeaurat, Nattier, de la Tour, and Peronneau, and it underlines
another important element: the fact that a number of portraits were grouped together
in the Salon space. Despite these details, it still seems impossible to determine the
exact placement of these paintings or walls on which they were hung. Nevertheless,
this partial reconstruction can pinpoint that expographic discourse is revealed bit by
bit. In this regard, Garrigues de Froment states:
Presque vis-à-vis des Nôces de Thétis & de Pélée,37 c’est-à-dire à l’autre extrémité
du Salon (dispensez- moi, s’il vous plaît, Monsieur, d’une grande exactitude,
d’un ordre plus sévère. J’en serai plus libre & mes expressions en deviendront
plus faciles) à l’autre extrêmité du Salon est donc un Tableau de M. Jeaurat; qui
représente Achille chargeant sa mère des funérailles de Patrocle, dont il veut aller
venger la mort.38
These two paintings with related subjects are situated on two distant and opposing
walls, thus in a position of confrontation, of parallelism, or at least of comparison.
They respond to each other across the exhibition space, implying that Portail’s
4
44 Isabelle Pichet

hanging allows a relationship between them to emerge. This back-and-forth between
the works hung on either side of the hall suggests an overall conception of the exhib-
ition space as a discursive whole and not simply as four distinct walls. The tapissier
developed a specific hanging for each wall and for each centre of interest, but it seems
that the exhibition was actually seen as an entirety revealed through its parts.
One of the significant moments of the exhibition, and one that can be clearly
reconstructed in Saint-Aubin’s illustration, is found on the north wall, which is on the
left in the illustration (Figures 3.1 and 3.2). In his Lettre à un ami, Sur l’Exposition
des Tableaux faite dans le Sallon du Louvre, le 25 Août 1753, Pierre Estève positions
Oudry’s39 painting [2]‌40 in the centre of the wall and specifies, “Entre les deux Tableaux
de M. Restout41 [1 and 3], il y en a un de Oudry qui représente trois groupes de Loup.”42
Oudry’s painting, which occupies the centre of this wall, thus hangs between two by
Restout, highlighting a certain symmetry in the organization of this section. Another
commentary, this one written by La Font de Saint-Yenne, confirms the placement
of these works. He writes, “En suivant les grands tableaux, je vous rappellerai celui
de M. Oudry qui est dans le milieu du salon vis-à-vis les croisées,” and he adds, a
little further on, “Sur la même ligne est placé un grand tableau du Sieur Restout.
C’est l’instant, où le superbe Aman est condamné au gibet par le Roi Assuérus.”43 The
positioning of these works is clearly defined, making it possible to identify them in the
illustration of the Salon. Furthermore, confirming the identification of the works on
this wall, Garrigues de Froment mentions Boucher’s paintings [4 and 5] at the begin-
ning of his critique and situates them in the space:
Au-dessus des Tableaux du Lever & du Coucher du Soleil44 M. Restout en a

exposé deux, qui sont à peu de chose près de même grandeur que ceux de son
Confrère. L’un représente Notre-Seigneur donnant les clefs à S. Pierre. L’autre,
Assuerus prononçant un Arrêt de mort contre Aman.45
This statement allows us to consider another aspect of art production, referring

to symmetry: the concept of counterparts. In addition, these descriptions and the
connecting of the works enabled readers to position themselves in the Salon Carré
and to mentally reconstruct how certain works were hung.
It is useful to speculate about what Portail intended with his positioning in the
exhibition layout of this symmetrical node that made such an impression on visitors.
On one hand, even though Oudry’s painting was large and belonged to a less glorious
genre, that of hunting, the position that Portail granted him in the exhibition, nor-
mally reserved for history paintings, implies an intentional choice. Did Portail want to
pay tribute to this academician and professor who was respected by the institution,46
or had he granted him a favour for other reasons? In fact, Restout had been appointed
to the position of rector of the Académie47 in 1752, and Boucher to the position of
assistant rector48 in July of that year. So it seems that Portail may have accorded them
such prominence because he was taking the academic hierarchy into account in his
arrangement of the space. In addition, as we remember, Portail was playing with the
convention of symmetry by placing works of the same size opposite each other so that
they became comparable and complementary in the public’s mind. In developing the
hanging arrangement, Portail established interplays and relations among the works,
leading visitors to stop and consider the grouping as a whole.
54
Figure 3.2 Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, Detail of Vue du Salon en l’année 1753, etching, 15.8 ×
19.3 cm. Courtesy: National Gallery of Art, Washington.
We can also conjecture about the positioning of certain other works. For example,
the first comment made by La Font de Saint-Yenne at the 1753 Salon concerning the
painting La dispute de s. Augustin contre les Donatistes by Carle Van Loo49 gives
clues to where it is placed. He writes, “Vous aurez vu sans doute celui de Sieur Van
Loo, remarquable par son emplacement avantageux et par sa grandeur.”50 So, what
was this superior location that he mentions? Because this painting was large, 488
by 366 centimetres, we can deduce that it was hung high on the wall. Looking at
64
46 Isabelle Pichet

Saint-Aubin’s engraving (Figure 3.1), we might be led to believe that the painting
portrayed in the centre of the back wall is Van Loo’s. There is much to support this
idea –the height and prestigious location –but the size does not. In his commentary,
however, l’Abbé Le Blanc states:
Des trois tableaux qui sont au-dessous de celui-ci51, l’un représente la Vierge &
l’Enfant Jésus52 ... L’autre représente saint Charles Borromée53 ... Le Tableau de
sainte Clotilde Reine de France,54 qui est au milieu de ces deux-ci ne mérite pas
moins d’éloges.55
Le Blanc therefore placed three small works under Van Loo’s Dispute des
Donastites and also specified which one occupies the centre of the trio. La Font de
Saint-Yenne, in his Sentiments sur quelques ouvrages de peinture, de sculpture et
de gravure, écrits à un particulier en province, also confirmed the grouping of these
paintings.56 Van Loo’s three paintings, presented vertically, do not correspond in
number or in format to those portrayed on the bottom wall in Saint-Aubin’s illustra-
tion. Friedrich Melchior Grimm, author of Correspondance littéraire, either was not
aware, or chose, in his critique, to ignore the role of the tapissier wrote of Boucher’s
two paintings [4 and 5],57 “Ce défaut [poor colouring] est, cette fois-ci, d’autant plus
palpable qu’il a eu la maladresse de placer ses tableaux à côté de ceux de Carle Van
Loo.”58 Grimm therefore developed a relationship between Boucher’s and Van Loo’s
paintings and specified that they were placed in proximity to each other. He also
compared the colouring of these paintings, using the characteristics of the works.
Looking more closely at Saint-Aubin’s engraving and carefully considering the infor-
mation collected from the commentaries on the exhibition and in the livret on the
sizes of the paintings, it becomes possible to identify Van Loo’s paintings59 [6 and 7]
at the end of the wall, beside a Boucher [5]‌and a Restout [3]. This spot does indeed
seem to be a superior location, as La Font de Saint-Yenne stressed, and the placement
high up among the other historical paintings described by the various authors is con-
sistent, even though Saint-Aubin’s illustration is not detailed enough to make precise
identifications.
This highlighted moment in the exhibition is an evocative node, almost a miniature
exhibition in itself. It must also be noted that Van Loo had been Assistant Rector since
1752 and governor of the École royale des élèves protégés60 since 1749. The grouping
of these works affirms Portail’s desire to build a specific and attractive/compelling
centre of interest, leading one author to write, “Il voudroit, à raison de la supériorité
des talens de M.C. Vanloo & de la beauté de ses Ouvrages, qu’on en fit une exposition,
un Salon à part.”61 It must be understood that Portail could simply have dispersed Van
Loo’s paintings throughout the Salon, which would not have produced such an impact
or allowed critics to formulate the relationships between these paintings so directly.
Garrigues de Froment also clearly expressed the importance of this grouping of Van
Loo’s works and the effect that it aroused among viewers:
Que celles que M. Carle Vanloo vient d’exposer sont belles! Quel pinceau! quelle
couleur! que de grâces! quoi de plus séduisant! En vain fait-on des efforts pour
s’arracher du lieu vers lequel presque tous ses Tableaux sont rassemblés [6 and 7];
en vain veut-on finir le tour du Salon qu’on a déjà commencé; en vain est-on
distrait & flatté par je ne sçais combien de morceaux tous dans le genre fort
74

au-dessus du médiocre: un charme plus puissant vous entraîne; le Connoisseur &
l’Ignorant y cédent avec un plaisir presque égal. M. Carle Vanloo les fixe.
Celui de ses Ouvrages, qui arrête le gros des Spectateurs, est une Représentation
de S. Charles Borromée62 priant au pied de l’Autel.63
Garrigues de Froment gives a good example of the power and influence that the exhib-
ition layout had over visitors’ gazes, as they were barely able tear their eyes away
from this culminating point of the exhibition. He notes, in passing, the fact that these
paintings were gathered in a specific space in the gallery and that this grouping is pre-
cisely what affected the public’s gaze and the reception of the exhibition in general.
Continuing his description, Garrigues de Froment ended his reconstruction of this
node by noting, “Au-dessous du grand Tableau de S. Augustin64 est celui de la Vierge
& de l’Enfant Jésus65 par le même Auteur”66 ([6 and 7]). This centre of interest drew
a large proportion of visitors, which is obviously reflected in the number of comments
made about it, including those by La Font de Saint-Yenne:
Passons aux autres tableaux de cet auteur [Van Loo: [6 and 7]]. On voit au-
dessous de celui dont je viens de parler,67 une représentation de Saint Clothilde,68
Reine de France mal à genoux devant un tombeau [...] À côté du tableau de sainte
Clotilde on voit une Vierge69 du même auteur qui n’est ni sur la terre ni dans le
Ciel [...] À côté et sur la même ligne est un tableau du même auteur qui représente
saint Charles Borromée70 à genoux et en adoration devant le Saint.71
The ease with which this focal point can be reconstructed denotes the success of
Portail’s work and his desire to highlight Van Loo’s excellent paintings and the har-
mony of the subjects he depicts. In addition, it must be mentioned that all of these
works were intended to be placed in religious venues, including Vierge à l’Enfant Jésus
and Saint-Charles-Borromée in Saint-Merri Church in Paris, and that this information
was presented in the livret. Portail is thus proposing connections not only among Van
Loo’s paintings but also among his subjects (characters), permitting visitors to reflect
upon the aesthetic qualities of the works through his effective groupings.
This reconstruction of several evocative nodes, particularly those on the wall facing
the windows, leads us to ponder what real or perceived influence the Académie had on
Portail’s work, given the election not long before of certain academicians –Restout,
Boucher, and Van Loo –to important positions at the institution, and Portail’s deci-
sion to display some of their works together on a single wall and in an elevated and
privileged position. They are clues to a certain vision of the exhibition hanging and
to comprehension of the related discourse. The authors’ commentaries give us a brief
look, even if it is disjointed and incomplete, at how Portail’s discourse directed visitors’
gaze and led them to make judgements, personal and collective, by constructing
connections based on aesthetic aspects or on the subjects portrayed in the works,
even though these commentaries do not always reveal the precise placement of each
work in the exhibition space. Portail staged several discursive moments, including
some that were striking, revealing that he emphasized and perhaps even made the
conventions his own such as Salon style, symmetry, characteristics, and hierarchy of
genres, including the academic hierarchy at a certain point.
The critical commentaries concerning this Salon also allow us to understand that
the judgement of both the authors and the public (more specific and significant in
84
48 Isabelle Pichet

the analysis of later Salons) was modelled by the exhibition discourse. When they
attended the Salon, visitors could construct a vision of art production in general
from what they saw there; they could also, through comparison, formulate personal
opinions that were refined and materialized over time. It was the encounter of these
personal opinions, for which the authors were the hubs of transmission, that made it
possible to form a collective opinion on French art production.
Notes
1 See, among others, V. Kobi, “Harmonie et dissonance. La fonction de la couleur dans
les collections du siècle des Lumières,” Dix-huitième siècle, Vol. 51, no.1 (2019): 63–75;
S. Costa, Dal Magnifico concerto all’ordinato metodo. Collezioni e Musei di Ancien Regime
(Bologna: Bononia University Press, 2019); D.H. Solkin (ed.), Art on the Line: The Royal
Academy Exhibitions at Somerset House (London: Yale University Press, 2001).
2 See I. Pichet, La discursivité du Salon (expographie et discours) (Rome and Paris: Académie
de France à Rome and Somogy, 2013): 61–77; Le tapissier et les dispositifs discursifs
au Salon (1750- 1789) (Paris: Hermann, 2012); Expographie, critique et opinion: Les
discursivité des Salons de l’Académie de Paris (1750-1789) (PhD dissertation, Université du
Québec à Montréal, 2009), https://archipel.uqam.ca/5476/.
3 I. Pichet, “Le tapissier: Auteur du discours expographique au Salon (1750-1789),” Culture
et Musées, no. 20 (2012): 187–208; Le tapissier et les dispositifs discursifs, op. cit.
4 Saint-Aubin’s engraving offers a view of the Salon Carré from the point of view of an
observer standing on the landing of the staircase, with his back to the west wall of the
gallery. Because of this, the west wall is totally excluded from the portrayal. For a detailed
description of this engraving, see Perrin Stein, “Vue du Salon du Louvre en l’année 1753,”
Gabriel de Saint-Aubin 1724-1780, edited by C.B. Bailey, K. de Beaumont, P. Rosenberg,
and C. Leribault (Paris: Musée du Louvre and Somogy éditions d’art, 2007): 266–267.
5 See N. McWilliam, V. Schuster, R. Wrigley, and P. Meker, A Bibliography of Salon Criticism
in Paris from the Ancien Régime to the Restoration: 1699–1827 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991); G. Duplessis, La Collection de pièces sur les Beaux-arts imprimées
et manuscrites (1673-1808) (BnF, Richelieu: Ya3-27(1-65)-8); Catalogue de la collection de
pieces sur les beaux-arts, imprimées et manuscrites (Paris: A. Picard, 1881).
6 Starting in 1738, the livret offered a rather ideological vision by following the hierarchy
of the Académie’s members in the presentation of the works. After 1755, this presentation
logic was reinforced by a disciplinary division: painting, sculpture, and etching/drawing.
For the list and a full reproduction of the livret of the 1753 Salon, I refer to H.W. Janson,
Catalogue of the Paris Salons 1673–1881, Vol. 3 (New York: Garland, 1977–1978).
7 This means that a discours will be constructed by the exhibition: “exposer, c’est donner
à voir pour faire comprendre –autrement dit, pour dire –quelque chose,” J. Davallon,
“L’écriture de l’exposition: expographie, muséographie, Scénographie,” Culture et Musées,
Vol. 16 (2010): 230.
8 I returned to my doctoral research to produce this article. See Pichet, Expographie, critique
et opinion, op. cit.; Le tapissier et les dispositifs discursifs, op. cit.
9 I. Pichet, “La réutilisation de conventions artistiques par le Tapissier du Salon (1750-
1789),” Lumen, Vol. 27 (2007): 127–141; Le tapissier et les dispositifs discursifs, op. cit.;
“Le tapissier: Auteur du discours expographique au Salon (1750-1789)”, op. cit.
10 C.B. Bailey, “Conventions of the Eighteenth- Century Cabinet de tableaux: Blondel
d’Azincourt’s La première idée de la curiosité,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 69, no. 3 (1987),
431–447; É. Pasquier, “Un Américain au Louvre? L’architecte William Welles Bosworth
et le réaménagement du musée du Louvre dans le cadre du ‘plan Verne’ (1925-1939),”
94

Les cahiers de l’École du Louvre (2017), cahier #11, https://doi-org.biblioproxy.uqtr.ca/
10.4000/cel.670
11 The fictional world of the exhibition forms a universe in itself, constructed in parallel to
that of external reality, in which a story is told that belongs only to the space-time of the
exhibition: J. Davallon, “Franchie la porte de l’exposition, me voici effectivement passé
dans un monde autre,” L’exposition à l’œuvre: stratégie de communication et médiation
symbolique (Paris: L’Harmattan Communication, 1999): 174.
12 I. Pichet, “La réutilisation de conventions artistiques par le Tapissier du Salon (1750-
1789)”, op. cit.: 130; Le tapissier et les dispositifs, op. cit.: 62–63.
13 W. Szambien, Symétrie, Goût, Caractère: Théorie et terminologie de l’architecture à l’âge
Classique 1550-1800 (Paris: Picard, 1986): 61–78.
14 Ibid., 99–110.
15 R.A. Etlin, “Les Dedans, Jacques-François Blondel and the System of the Home, c. 1740,”
Gazette des beaux-Arts (April 1978): 138.
16 Portail began to exhibit only in 1747, and he did so sporadically thereafter (1750, 1751,
and 1759).
17 According to the data compiled to date, there were about twenty critical commentaries
concerning the 1753 Salon. See McWilliam et al., A Bibliography of Salon Criticism, op.
cit.; G. Duplessis, La Collection de pièces sur les Beaux-arts; Catalogue de la collection de
pièces, op. cit..
18 Jean-Marc Nattier (1685-1766), “Le Portrait de Madame, fille de M. le Dauphin, à l’âge
d’un an, jouant avec un petit chien,” under no. 44 in the livret; “Le Portrait de Madame
Infante Isabelle, en pieds,” under no. 45 in the livret; “Le Portrait de M. le Prince de Condé,
en cuirasse, peint jusqu’aux genouils,” under no. 46 in the livret; “Le Portrait en Buste de
Madame Dufour, Nourrice de Monseigneur le Dauphin,” under no. 47 in the livret; and “Le
Portrait de Madame Boufrey, représentée en Muse, qui dessine. Dans le fond du Tableau se
voit le Parnasse,” under no. 48 in the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op.
cit.: 15.
19 Maurice Quentin de La Tour (1704–1788), a number of portraits, such as those of Madame
le Comte, Madame de Geli, Madame de Mondonville, Madame Huet, Mademoiselle
Ferrand, Mademoiselle Gabriel, the Marquis de Voyer, the Marquis de Montalembert,
Monsieur de Silvestre, Monsieur de Bachaumont, Monsieur de Watelet, Monsieur de
la Chaussée, Monsieur Duclos, Monsieur de l’Abbé Nolet, Monsieur de la Condamine,
Monsieur Dalembert, Monsieur Rousseau, and M. Manelli, under nos. 74 to 91 in the
livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 19–21.
20 Louis Tocqué (1696–1772), “Le Portrait de M. le Comte de Kaunitz Rittberg, Ambassadeur
d’Angleterre, peint jusqu’aux genouils, en habit uniforme, ayant sa main sur un Casque,”
under no. 66 in the livret; “Le Portrait de M. le Comte d’Albermarle, Ambassadeur
under no. 67 in the livret; “Le Portait de Madame Danger, sur un Sopha, faisant des Nœuds,
aussi peinte jusqu’au genouils,” under no. 68 of the livret; and “Un Buste du Portrait de
M. le Comte de Waldener,” under no. 69 in the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris
Salons, op. cit.: 18–19.
21 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur sur l’exposition des tableaux du Louvre et de la
critique qui en a été faite (1753, Collection Deloynes no. 58): 23.
22 In the current state of my research, I have not found any interesting aspects related to the
question of the exhibition staging in Portail’s correspondence.
23 É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique (Paris: École nationale supérieure des
beaux-arts, 2001): 293.
24 J.-G. Huquier, Lettre sur l’exposition des tableaux (Paris, 1753): 31–32. The painting is
described as Jacques de Lajoue (1687–1761), “Un Tableau représentant une allégorie du
05
50 Isabelle Pichet

Roy. Ce Tableau appartient à Madame de Pompadour,” under no. 92 of the livret. See
Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 21.
25 François-Hubert Drouais (1727–1775), “Un Cadre qui renferme sous une glace plusieurs
Portraits en miniature, sous le même N°,” under no. 94 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue
of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 22.
26 Nicolas Venevault (1696–1775), “Un Cadre qui renferme sous une glace plusieurs Portraits
en miniature, sous le même N°,” under no. 110 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the
Paris Salons, op. cit.: 25.
27 J.-G. Huquier, Lettre sur l’exposition des tableaux au Louvre avec des notes historiques, op.
cit.: 32.
28 Nicolas Delobel (1693–1763), “Un Sujet allégorique sur l’Avènement d’Henry IV. À la
Couronne de France. Tableau en largeur de huit pieds & demi sur quatre & demi de haut,”
under no. 98 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 22.
29 M.A. Laugier, Jugement d’un amateur sur les tableaux exposés au Louvre en 1753 (1753,
Collection Deloynes no. 59): 50.
30 Jean-Baptiste Siméon Chardin (1699– 1779), “Deux Tableaux Pendans, sous le même
No. l’un représente un Dessinateur d’après le Mercure de M. Pigalle, & l’autre une jeune
fille qui récite son Evangile. Ces deux Tableaux tirés du Cabinet de M. de la Live, sont
répétés d’après les Originaux placés dans le Cabinet du Roy de Suède. Le Dessinateur est
exposé pour la seconde fois, avec des changemens,” under no. 59 of the livret; “Un Tableau
représentant un Philosophe occupé de sa lecture. Ce Tableau appartient à M. Boscry
Architecte,” under no. 60 of the livret; “Un petit Tableau représentant un Aveugle,” under
no. 61 of the livret; “Autre, représentant un Chien, un Singe & un Chat, peints d’après
nature. Ces deux Tableau tirés du Cabinet de M. de Bombarde,” under no. 62 of the livret;
“Un Tableau représentant une Perdrix & des Fruits, appartenant à M. Germain,” under
no. 63 of the livret; “Deux Tableaux Pendans, sous le même No. représentans des Fruits;
tirs du Cabinet de M. de Chasse,” under no. 64 of the livret; “Un Tableau représentant du
Gibier, appartenant à M. Aved,” under no. 65 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the
Paris Salons, op. cit.: 17–18.
31 G. Baillet de Saint-Julien, La peinture. Ode de Milord Telliab. Traduite de l’anglois. Par
M. ***. Un des Auteurs de l’Encyclopédie (1753, Collection Deloynes no. 57): 8.
32 Étienne Jeaurat (1699–1789), “Un grand Tableau en largeur de seize pieds sur neuf de haut,
représentant un nôce de Village. Ce Tableau sera exécuté en Tapisserie à la Manifacture
Royale des Gobelins, par les Sieurs Cozette & Audran,” under no. 16 of the livret; “Autre
Tableau en largeur de 5 pieds sur quatre, représentant Achille, qui laisse à Thétis sa mère
le soin des funérailles de son ami Pantrocle, & part pour aller venger sa mort. Sujet tiré
de l’Iliade d’Homère,” under no. 17 of the livret; “Un petit Tableau représentant deux
Savoyardes,” under no. 18 of the livret; “Autre: une femme qui épluche de la salade,” under
no. 19 of the livret; “Deux Esquisses sous le même N dont l’un représente la Place Maubert,
gravée par M. Aliemet. L’autre, une Foire au Village,” under no. 20 of the livret. See Janson,
Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 10–11.
33 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 21. For the description of La Tour’s
paintings, see note 19.
34 J.-G. Huquier Lettre sur l’exposition des tableaux, op. cit.: 41. Jean-Baptiste Perronneau’s
(1715–1783) paintings are described as “Le Portrait de M. Oudry, Professeur de l’Académie
Royale de Peinture & de Sculpture. Le Portrait de M. Adam l’aîné, Professeur de l’Académie
Royale de Peinture & de Sculpture. Ces deux Portrait sont les Morceaux de Réception de
l’auteur à l’Académie,” under no. 124 of the livret. See H. W. Janson, Catalogue of the Paris
Salons, op. cit.: 27.
35 For the description of Nattier’s paintings, see note 18.
36 Louis Tocqué (1696–1772), “Le Portrait de M. le Comte de Kaunitz Rittberg, Ambassadeur
15

under no. 66 of the livret; “Le Portrait de M. le Comte d’Albermarle, Ambassadeur
under no. 67 of the livret; “Le Portait de Madame Danger, sur un Sopha, faisant des Nœuds,
aussi peinte jusqu’au genouils,” under no. 68 of the livret; “Un Buste du Portrait de M. le
Comte de Waldener,” under no. 69 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons,
op. cit.: 18–19; see also G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 23.
37 Hyacinthe Collin de Vermont (1693–1761), “Un Tableau en largeur de quatre pieds & demi
sur trois de haut, représentant les nôces de Thétis & Pelée. Ces époux y avoient invité tous
les Dieux, à l’exception de la Discorde; mais elle s’y glissa furtivement, & jetta sur la table
une pomme d’or sur laquelle elle avoit écrit ces mots: (Pour la plus belle). Cette inscription,
que Mercure fit remarquer à l’assemblée, excita bientôt entre les trois principales Divinités
cette fameuse dispute qui causa dans la suite tous les malheurs da [sic] la guerre de Troyes,”
38 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 20. The painting is described as “Autre
Tableau en largeur de 5 pieds sur quatre, représentant Achille, qui laisse à Thétis sa mère
le soin des funérailles de son ami Pantrocle, & part pour aller venger sa mort. Sujet tiré de
l’Iliade d’Homère,” under no. 17 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op.
cit.: 10–11.
39 Jean-Baptiste Oudry (1686–1755), “Un grand Tableau en largeur de vingt-deux pieds sur
dix de haut, représentant des Dogues qui combattent contre trois Loups, dont un Cervier,”
40 The numbers in brackets found in the body of the text always refer to the works identified
in the Salon illustration (Figure 3.2) –in this case, the painting designated by the number 2.
41 Jean-Bernard Restout (1732–1797), “Un grand Tableau ceintré, en hauteur de huit pieds
& demi sur sept, représentant le Roy Assuerus, dans le moment qu’il prononce l’arrest de
mort contre Aman. Histoire d’Estber, cb 7. Ce Tableau est pour le RR. PP. Feuillans,” under
no. 1 of the livret, and “Autre en hauteur de huit pieds sur cinq, représentant notre Seigneur
qui donne les clefs à S. Pierre,” under no. 2 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris
Salons, op. cit.: 7.
42 P. Esteve, Lettre à un ami sur l’exposition des tableaux, faite dans le grand Sallon du Louvre
le 25 août 1753 (Paris, 1753, Collection Deloynes no. 56): 8.
43 É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique, op. cit.: 289.
44 François Boucher (1703–1770), “Deux grands Tableaux en hauteur de onze pieds sur neuf
de large, sous le même N. dont l’un représente le Lever du Soleil, & l’autre le Coucher. Ces
Tableaux doivent s’executer en Tapisserie, à la Manufacture Royale des Gobelins, par les
Sieurs Cozette & Audran,” under no. 10 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris
Salons, op. cit.: 9. See Figure 3.2 [4 and 5].
45 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 7. For the description of Restout’s
paintings, see note 42 and Figure 3.2 [1 and 3].
46 Oudry was accepted as an academician on 25 February 1719 (see A. de Montaiglon, Procès-
verbaux de l’Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, 1648-1793 (Paris: J. Baur, 1875–
1892, vol. 4): 279, and became a professor on September 28, 1743 (see ibid., vol. 5: 351).
47 During the assembly of May 27, 1752 (ibid., vol. 6: 321).
48 During the assembly of 29 July 1752 (ibid., vol. 6: 326).
49 Carle Van Loo (1705–1765), “Un grand Tableau en largeur de seize pieds sur douze de
haut, représentant la dispute de S. Augustin contre les Donastites. Cette conférence se tint à
Carthage l’an 410. par ordre de l’Empereur Honorius, en présence du Comte Marcellin. Ce
Tableau est destiné pour l’Église des Augustins de la Place des Victoires,” under no. 4 of the
livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 7–8.
50 É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique, op. cit.: 279.
51 Carle Van Loo (1705–1765), La dispute de S. Augustin contre les Donastites (see note 50).
25
52 Isabelle Pichet

52 Carle Van Loo, “Autre en hauteur de huit pieds sur cinq, représentant la Vierge & l’Enfant
Jésus,” under no. 5 of the livret. See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 8.
53 Carle Van Loo, “Autre de même forme & grandeur, représenant S. Charles Borromée,
Archevêque de Milan, prêt-à-porter le Viatique aux malades de cette Ville [under no. 6
of the livret]. Ces deux Tableaux [nos. 5 and 6 of the livret] sont destinés pour l’Église de
S. Merry.” See Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 8.
54 Carle Van Loo, “Sainte Clotilde Reine de France, faisant sa prière auprès du tombeau de
saint Martin. Tableau ceintré de huit pieds & demi sur cinq de large, fait pour le Roy, &
placé dans la Chapelle du grand Commun, à Choisy,” under no. 7 of the livret. See Janson,
Catalogue of the Paris Salons, op. cit.: 8.
55 Abbé J. B. Le Blanc, Observation sur les ouvrages de MM. De l’Académie de peinture et
de sculpture exposées au Sallon du Louvre en l’année 1753 et sur quelques écrits qui ont
rapport à la peinture A Monsieur le président de B*** (Paris, 1753, Collection Deloynes,
no. 63): 9–11.
56 É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique, op. cit.: 282–283.
57 Le lever du Soleil et Le Coucher du Soleil (see Figure 3.2 [4 and 5]) and note 45.
58 F.M. Grimm, Correspondance littéraire, philosophique et critique, Vol. 2 (Paris: Garnier,
1877–1882): 282.
59 Number 6 refers to the painting Saint Augustin contre les Donastites (see note 50), whereas
number 7 groups the paintings La Vierge & l’Enfant Jésus (see note 53), Saint Charles
Borromée (see note 54), and Sainte Clotilde Reine de France (see note 55).
60 “M. Dumont le Romain, Gouverneur des Elèves protégés, ayant demandé à se retirer a
nommée, pour le remplacé, M. Carle Vanloo, professeur”, Montaiglon, Procès-verbaux de
l’Académie op. cit.: 162.
61 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 29.
62 For the description of Van Loo’s painting, see note 54.
63 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.: 8–9.
66 G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur, op. cit.:11.
67 For the description of Van Loo’s painting Saint Augustin contre les Donastites, see note 50.
71 É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique, op. cit.: 282–284.
References
G. Baillet de Saint-Julien, La peinture. Ode de Milord Telliab. Traduite de l’anglois. Par M. ***.
Un des Auteurs de l’Encyclopédie (1753, Collection Deloynes no. 57).
C.B. Bailey, “Conventions of the Eighteenth-Century Cabinet de tableaux: Blondel d’Azincourt’s
La première idée de la curiosité,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 69, no. 3 (1987): 431–447.
S. Costa, Dal Magnifico concerto all’ordinato metodo. Collezioni e Musei di Ancien Regime
(Bologna: Bononia University Press, 2019).
J. Davallon, L’exposition à l’œuvre: stratégie de communication et médiation symbolique
(Paris: L’Harmattan Communication, 1999).
J. Davallon, “L’écriture de l’exposition: expographie, muséographie, Scénographie,” Culture et
Musées, Vol. 16 (2010): 230.
G. Duplessis, Catalogue de la collection de pieces sur les beaux-arts, imprimées et manuscrites
(Paris: A. Picard, 1881).
P. Esteve, Lettre à un ami sur l’exposition des tableaux, faite dans le grand Sallon du Louvre le
25 août 1753 ( Paris, 1753, Collection Deloynes no. 56).
35

R.A. Etlin, “Les Dedans, Jacques-François Blondel and the System of the Home, c. 1740,”
Gazette des beaux-Arts. VIe période,Tome XCI (April 1978).
G. de Froment, Sentimens d’un amateur sur l’exposition des tableaux du Louvre et de la critique
qui en a été faite (1753, Collection Deloynes no. 58).
F.M. Grimm, Correspondance littéraire, philosophique et critique, Vol. 2 (Paris: Garnier,
1877–1882).
J.-G. Huquier, Lettre sur l’exposition des tableaux au Louvre avec des notes historiques (1753,
Collection Deloynes no. 60).
Abbé J. B. Le Blanc, Observation sur les ouvrages de MM. De l’Académie de peinture et de sculp-
ture exposées au Sallon du Louvre en l’année 1753 et sur quelques écrits qui ont rapport
à la peinture A Monsieur le président de B*** (Paris: 1753, Collection Deloynes, no. 63).
M.A. Laugier, Jugement d’un amateur sur les tableaux exposés au Louvre en 1753 (1753,
Collection Deloynes no. 59).
H.W. Janson, Catalogue of the Paris Salons 1673–1881, Vol. 3 (New York: Garland, 1977–1978).
É. Jollet and La Font de Saint-Yenne, Œuvre critique (Paris: École nationale supérieure des
beaux-arts, 2001).
V. Kobi, “Harmonie et dissonance. La fonction de la couleur dans les collections du siècle des
Lumières,” Dix-huitième siècle, Vol. 51, no 1 (2019): 63–75.
Abbé J.B. Le Blanc, Observation sur les ouvrages de MM. De l’Académie de peinture et de sculp-
ture exposées au Sallon du Louvre en l’année 1753 et sur quelques écrits qui ont rapport à la
peinture A Monsieur le président de B*** (Paris, 1753, Collection Deloynes, no. 63).
N. McWilliam, V. Schuster, R. Wrigley, and P. Meker, A Bibliography of Salon Criticism in Paris
from the Ancien Régime to the Restoration: 1699–1827 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991).
A. de Montaiglon, Procès-verbaux de l’Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, 1648-1793
(Paris: J. Baur, 1875–1892, vol. 4).
É. Pasquier, “Un Américain au Louvre? L’architecte William Welles Bosworth et le réaménagement
du musée du Louvre dans le cadre du ‘plan Verne’ (1925-1939),” Les cahiers de l’École du
Louvre (2017), cahier #11, https://doi-org.biblioproxy.uqtr.ca/10.4000/cel.670
I. Pichet, “La réutilisation de conventions artistiques par le Tapissier du Salon (1750-1789),”
Lumen Vol. 27 (2007): 127–141.
I. Pichet, Expographie, critique et opinion: Les discursivité des Salons de l’Académie de Paris
(1750–1789) (PhD dissertation, Université du Québec à Montréal, 2009), https://archipel.
uqam.ca/5476/.
I. Pichet, Le tapissier et les dispositifs discursifs au Salon (1750–1789) (Paris: Hermann, 2012).
I. Pichet, “Le tapissier: Auteur du discours expographique au Salon (1750–1789),”, Culture et
Musées, no. 20 (2012): 187–208.
I. Pichet, La discursivité du Salon (expographie et discours) (Rome and Paris: Académie de
France à Rome and Somogy, 2013): 62–77.
D.H. Solkin (ed.), Art on the Line: The Royal Academy Exhibitions at Somerset House
(London: Yale University Press, 2001).
Perrin Stein, “Vue du Salon du Louvre en l’année 1753,” Gabriel de Saint-Aubin 1724-1780,
edited by C.B. Bailey, K. de Beaumont, P. Rosenberg, and C. Leribault (Paris: Musée du
Louvre and Somogy éditions d’art, 2007): 266–267.
W. Szambien, Symétrie, Goût, Caractère: Théorie et terminologie de l’architecture à l’âge
Classique 1550-1800 (Paris: Picard, 1986).
45
4
Royal Spectacles and Social Networks
Early 18th-Century Salon Exhibition
Practices
Mandy Paige-Lovingood
In September of 1699, Jules Hardouin Mansart, then Protecteur to the Académie

Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture and Surintendant and Ordonnateur general des
Bâtimens du Roy, held the Académie’s first official salon in over 17 years. The Salon,
a celebratory crown-sponsored social event, publicly exhibited the latest and greatest
contemporary artworks from the Académie’s leading members.1 In the September
issue of the popular French newspaper Le Mercure Galant the author writes of the
Salon de 1699 that Louis XIV, king of France, was behind the affair, as he authorized
Mansart and Académie members to hold the exhibition in the Louvre’s Grande
Galerie. The Mercure galant, a publicity outlet for the king, noted that the momen-
tous event stressed to citizens and foreigners alike that the king was responsible for
“producing the wonders” comprising France’s fine arts through his “protection and
good liberties,” and they are, therefore, indebted.2 This passage is indicative of the
Académie’s top-down approach wherein cultural events were dictated and organized
by elite members who were, notably, also included within the king’s innermost circle.3
The king was, to all degrees, the je ne sais quoi of the Académie.
Historian Peter Burke argues in their book, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (1992),
that in visually elevating the myth of the king, artists and writers employed images
of Louis as a vehicle “to present a narrative, l’histoire du roi, in paintings, tapestries,
medals, engravings, as well as in official histories,” all of which generated a “theater”
of the king.4 When thinking about the perpetuation of the myth of Louis XIV, Burke
notes that the result was the creation of a collective of the king’s ministers and their
state institutions.5 Yet, beyond the production and composition of the visual arts, we
lack discussion on how the Académie was also a part of this collective, using modes
of display, exhibition design, and spatial arrangement to present objects at cultural
events, such as the salon, to contribute to the glorification of the king. On the topic of
Académie art exhibition, scholars argue that salons were presented as a major public
social event accessible to people of all classes and ranks, a democratic space in which
the public could express their approval.6 Thus, such a space makes the salon setting
ripe for the persuasive transmission of information. Art historian Thomas Crow
writes in their early work that while the Salon of 1699 certainly was a democratic
and collective space, it was void of any informed narrative and displayed images in
a “pêle-mêle,” or jumbled, arrangement with objects exhibited together according to
size.7 While this spatial arrangement has traditionally been judged as haphazard, sim-
plistic, and lacking any inherent composition and meaning, when examined through
the lens of the Académie, one finds that exhibition by way of size was a replicate of
the Académie’s art genre hierarchy and artist celebrity. Thus, an absolutist educational
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-6
5
Royal Spectacles and Social Networks 55

ploy did, in fact, contribute to the systematic message of the glory of the king. As
such, we must reevaluate the early salon exhibition practices in relation to the rules,
regulations, and theories of the Académie to unpack French display at the turn of the
18th century.
While several art historians have shed light on exhibition practices in early modern
France, we lack insight on how academic rules and disciplines functioned as a vehicle
for exhibition practice, to what effect artistic treatises had on public display, and how
the Académie’s salon personified the glory of the king. For example, what does an
examination of the layout and space of the Salon of 1699 tell us about French exhib-
ition design during the early modern period? Did public exhibition of art differ from
private display? And how did art theory guide design and display practices? Thus,
in this chapter, I argue that the Académie, like all state institutions, positioned Louis
as their raison d’être and, therefore, participated in the visualization of the “myth of
Louis XIV” by both communicating and promoting the king’s magnificence and abso-
lutist rule through the display of fine arts to the wider public. Using the Salon de 1699
as a case study, I analyse French modes of exhibition design and display, arguing that
the so-called new “democratic” exhibition practices of the salon were not merely a
hodge-podge display of objects. Rather, such museal techniques were not democratic
at all, as they remained couched within the crown’s top-down approach by way of
the Académie. Acting as a by-proxy of monarchical power, the Académie and its well-
connected social network employed their hierarchical ranking system and art theory
to regulate and maintain their grip on aesthetics and visual art standards by means of
art exhibition. Through this lens, I situate the Académie as the architect for late 17th
and early 18th-century absolutist exhibition practices, placing their early methods
of display as a model and precursor for the Louvre’s Post-Revolutionary move to
a truly democratic space meant for producing public discourse. Such an interpret-
ation locates early modern French exhibition-making as intentional and firmly rooted
within the Académie guidelines, which were defined and dictated by elite members
of the Old Régime, their most important patron. And, as such, modes of design and
display functioned as an educational tool for maintaining and bolstering Louis XIV’s
prestige, royal taste, and glory to the public, rather than as a means for socialization
and democratizing public taste, as has been suggested.
Upon the founding of the Académie in 1648 as a royal endeavour and new home
to the arts noble, Charles Lebrun (1616–1690), one of the 12 founding members,
and later First Painter to the King, immediately set out to establish a rigorous art-
istic training programme built upon the framework of Italy’s art academy, Accademia
di San Luca. Like Rome, the French Académie trained members in art education
and praxis, emphasizing instruction in taste, perspective, geometry, and life drawing
through the participation in weekly educational conferences and studio sessions.8
While this educational endeavour spanned several decades and was embraced by his
later successors, Lebrun’s mission finally took shape in 1661 upon the appointment
of the King’s First Minister of the State, Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619–1683).9 With
Colbert’s involvement, the king provided an annual stipend and afforded artist lodging
at the College Royal de l’Université and later at the Louvre.10 The crown’s financial
support continued to increase under Colbert upon his promotion to Protecteur, the
most important position, and Lebrun, Chancellor of the Académie, subsequently set
out to perfect the rules and regulations of the Académie. While it was Colbert who
first considered the arts a useful tool to foster the king’s glory, both men fully devoted
65
56 Mandy Paige-Lovingood

themselves to building and strengthening the social and political power of the organ-
ization as a reflection of the crown.11
From its conception, the Académie was initiated to train its students, or
academicians, in an absolutist style of drawing in which its aesthetics were to be
“in the style of the King and his court,” and for the good of the state.12 But once the
Académie was under the control of Colbert and his “department of glory,” the insti-
tution became responsible for making images of the king and the preeminent events
of his reign, which Burke calls “the history of the king,” to present to the public the
glory of the king.13 With the production of high culture and patronage redirected
from Rome to France, Colbert initiated the return of economic prosperity by way
of culture to France and ensured that the state backed the Académie’s production of
the beaux arts, which further legitimated the newly established French aesthetic dis-
course and the school of art within the royal state system.
Colbert organized culture for the king’s glory by constructing a collective system
of official state organizations that mobilized artists, writers, etc. working in the ser-
vice of Louis XIV.14 The Académie, a major hub in this shared venture, harnessed
their academician-made artworks and public exhibitions in the form of salons to
contribute to such a noble cause. Unfortunately, their efforts were stalled in the
mid-1660s, as the Académie’s limited early efforts at public exhibition were occa-
sional and their very short-lived art displays were held first in their own meeting
rooms and later, once relocated in 1656, at the Louvre. Due to these inconsistencies,
the Académie’s exhibitions moved from an annual to biennial showcase, or as their
archives show, whenever they could corral enough submissions. With such uncer-
tainty guiding early public exhibitions and their ever-changing locations, French
writer Anatole de Montaiglon’s (1824–1895) history of salons, indicates that the
Académie’s first successful salon was held outside in 1667 in the courtyard of the
Hôtel Brion in Paris, followed by another outdoor salon in 1673 on a windowless
wall in the courtyard of the Palais Royal. Both salons were large celebratory events
wherein they displayed several paintings by academicians commissioned by the
king, giving the public the opportunity to view numerous great works before they
were permanently installed in the royal apartments at of Versailles.15 Unfortunately,
the Académie fell into financial instability and their official salon went on hiatus for
17 years due to the diversion of funds for Louis’ various military endeavours. The
Académie did, however, hold a series of small exhibitions in 1683 and another at
the l’église Révérends Pères de l’Oratoire da la rue Saint-Honoré in 1687 to cele-
brate Louis’ recovery from a lengthy illness. Still, such events were not of the grand
scale of 1667 and 1673, and certainly not up to par with the grandeur of the Salon
de 1699.16
The years 1688–1698 mark a period of political, economic, and military failure
for Louis XIV and the continued degradation of the Académie. The crown’s financial
fallout severly impacted the state sponsorship of the arts, and the deaths of Colbert in
1683 followed by Lebrun in 1690 further cast the Académie into depression. The next
decade was a time of austerity and the institution survived on the generous donations
of academicians.17 The crown, unable to provide financial support after over a decade
of military campaigns abroad, was in a state of retrenchment due to the War of the
League of Augsburg (1688–1697).18 By all accounts, France was surrounded by large-
scale foreign opposition in almost every direction. The situation was so dire, that
Louis requested much of his silver furniture be sent off to the mint to be melted down
75

in an effort to financially support to his army, despite Colbert’s previous objections.19
Resulting from these losses, and further casting doubt on the success of Louis’ reign,
were a series of concessions with the Grand Alliance –Britain, the Dutch, Spain, and
Luxembourg, etc. –which ended not only in land loss, but also delivered a serious
blow to both Louis’ local and global reputation. In a letter from the Swedish architect
Daniel Cronstrom, he wrote to fellow architect Nicodemus Tessin that
Between us, since the great degeneration in which His Majesty has found himself
for several years, the spirit of praise and one can say of adulation that reigned
in this kingdom has not only diminished but has changed entirely from white to
black ... People would like to be able to raze all the monuments erected and efface
the tributes written during the life of the king.20
This passage confirms Louis’ tarnished reputation and attests to the fact that by the
end of the 17th century, the cult of Louis XIV suffered severely.
With the end of the long and arduous war with the Grand Alliance, just two
years prior and the declining support of the French public, the Académie salon was
resurrected in 1699 to coincide with prominent Parisian royal events and fetes cele-
brating the social and political accomplishments of Louis XIV. François Michel
Le Tellier, the Marquis of Louvois, former State Secretary of War and successor to
Colbert, took hold of the king’s “glory machine” as the new Ordonnateur general des
Bâtimens du Roy, picking up where the previous minister left off.21 Despite Louvois’
rivalry with his predecessor, he resumed the Colbert-Lebrun statue campaign of 1685–
1686, which comprised of the commissioning of a series of nearly 20 statues of the
king, mainly equestrian, to be placed in provincial public squares throughout France.
To add to the grandeur, large state-funded celebrations were held at the unveiling
of each monument that were dedicated to conveying the glory of the king.22 In the
case of the Salon de 1699, the exhibition was paired with the celebratory revealing
of first sculptor to the king, François Girardon, and his recently completed eques-
trian sculpture of the king for the Palace Louis-le-Grande (now Palace Vendôme) (see
Figure 4.1). The combined events were set to be a grand royal spectacle.
One may ask why such a monument would be a cause for a major royal celebra-
tion. Notably, Girardon’s work was colossal in size, but it was also an epic visualiza-
tion of the king’s glory, which was desperately needed in 1699. After the economic
crisis of the 1690s, any public image of the king would need to project his absolute
authority and preeminence to garner the love and adoration he once held earlier in
his reign. In 17th-century French author and publisher Floret Le Comte’s account of
the Salon de 1699, they write that the paring of the equestrian sculpture of Louis XIV
with the Académie salon gave “in addition, the public spectacle of this Galerie full of
science,and end with drawings, which Mansart represented to the King.”23 Thus, the
recent advancements in both the arts and science became a vehicle for attracting public
loyalty for the king. In particular, Girardon’s monument marks, for the first-time ever,
the process of casting an entire bronze figure in a single pour, including both the figure
of Louis and his horse. Such an accomplishment made the sculpture not only a monu-
ment to the king, but also a record of the technical and mechanical achievements. As
art historian Etienne Jollet demonstrates, the commissioning and dissemination of
engravings and paintings depicting the celebration and the move of the monument
to its Parisian location from several artists serves as evidence of the importance of
85
Figure 4.1 Pierre Lepautre (1660–1744), Représentation de la statue de Sa Majesté eslevée dans

la Place de Louis-le Grand le 13 Aoust 1699, engraving, Bibliotheque Nationale de
France, Paris.
95

the event to not only those within the city, but also to those outside the Parisian city
centre and abroad.24 As such, there was a need to build upon the momentum of such
public spectacle, and, therefore, anticipation was further intensified by the Académie’s
resurrected salon and its recent relocation to the Louvre’s Grande Galerie.25
Scholars attribute this reemergence of the salon to the appointment of Louis XIV’s
prominent architect Jules Hardouin Mansart to Surintendant and Ordonnateur gen-
eral des Bâtimens du Roy. Taking over after the death of Louvois, Mansart took swift
action to lift the faltering academy, initiating a steadfast reform campaign for both
restoring and reigniting in the French public the enthusiasm and admiration of the old
academic style, and advance the French perfection of aesthetics byway of the Royal
Académie, its artists, and its salon.26 With this revitalization, a series of salon firsts
came with Mansart’s placement, which included the printing of a livret, a listing of
the works of art exactly as they were arranged in the exhibit, which was made avail-
able for purchase guide attendees through the exhibition.27 Scholars argue that the
premise of the salon created a public space for art spectatorship removed from past
hidden and/or private “ritual hierarchies” in an attempt to open the doors to ordinary
French people of all classes and social statuses free of charge and in hopes of gener-
ating a positive collective response.28 As evidenced in the first pages of the salon’s offi-
cial livret, yes, the purpose for such an egalitarian space was for public criticism, but
such criticism was meant to trigger friendly competition amongst artists to “maintain
amongst academicians that praiseworthy emulation so necessary to the advancement
of the fine arts,” all of which was made possible by the king’s approval and financial
support.29 Hence, as suggested in the livret, while the salon was open to the public
and encouraged judgement, such criticism was merely used to instigate competition
amongst academicians to elevate their honorific titles for the greater good of French
art and its protector, Louis XIV. With this intention in mind, we should view the
open-access approach of the Salon de 1699 as an elimination of restrictions on access
to royal spaces, but the “new” open viewership remained firmly embedded within
their discourse and state-sponsored principles to substantiate and promote the king
through the French school of art.
Art historian Thomas Crow writes in their book, Painters and Public Life in
Eighteenth-Century France (1985), that the 1699 display practices, as seen in
Nicholas Langlois’ engraving of the salon (see Figure 4.2), mirrored those of private
collections of the day (which I will return to shortly), wherein art display placed
“narrative paintings of moderate sizes just above eye level, small cabinet paintings
below, and symmetrical trios of portraits above.”30 Notably, Crow argues, is what
is not emphasized in the salon livre descriptions: “the artists’ identity and academic
rank, the didactic significance of the Académie’s hierarchy of genres, and some order
of importance among the works submitted by the artists.”31 Yet, should we look at the
organization of artworks by way of size as directed at the public and indifferent or
detached from the Académie, their genre hierarchy, and artists’ reputations?
Like Thomas Crow, art historian Ian McClellan maintains that the Académie did
not implement ideological intentionality into their display practices until the opening
of France’s first permanent public art gallery, the Luxembourg Palace, in the second
half of the 18th-century.32 However, in an official account of the paintings exhibited at
l’église Révérends Pères de l’Oratoire da la rue Saint-Honoré in 1687, we can under-
stand how the Académie employed exhibition design and display as a conveyance of
the king’s glory. Looking at the revealing description of the Académie’s motivation for
06
Figure 4.2 Nicholas Langlois (French, 1640–1703), The Salon of 1699, 1700, etching and
engraving, Bibliotheque Nationale de France, Paris.
the show, the first paragraph reads, “The Royal Académie of Painting and Sculpture,
which has the advantage of having been instituted by the king, is always interested
in everything that concerns the glory and the preservation of its August Founder.”33
Here, the Académie firmly positions itself as a servant to the king by clearly stating
their intention behind the organization and design of their exhibition. More specific-
ally, the official account describes the arrangement of the nine paintings displayed
at the l’oratoire, noting that a large portrait of the king seated on his throne was
positioned in the main tribune (gallery). Set above the king’s portrait was a painting
of Divine Providence, which conveyed God’s prominence in the universe and the care
taken to preserve the divine prince. just below the king’s portrait, a painting of France
personified in her womanly form surrounded by a group of people, and a tablet under
the figure of France, reads: Acts of thankfulness for the king’s healing.34 What we
can gather from this description and the layout of these three paintings is that the
Académie created a didactic narrative through exhibition layout and object compos-
ition to intentionally communicate, or teach, a very specific narrative built around the
myth of Louis XIV, his divine right, and his glory. Hence, in every way, the Académie
and their exhibitions were part of the king’s glory machine.
Like the description of the Académie’s 1687 exhibit, Langlois’s engraving of the
Salon de 1699 makes visible the Académie’s underpinning ideology throughout the
exhibition. But to understand how and why such a spatial arrangement would be
administered when examining the salon’s organization, we must first look to Académie
member Charles-Antoine Hérault (1644–1718).
Admitted in 1670 as a portraitist and landscape artists, Hérault served as the salon
tapissier, or chief exhibition architect, from 1699 to 1704 and assumed the responsibility
16

for the salon exhibition design and the decoration of the Grand Gallerie.35 Ever the
coveted position, for one to attain such a role they would be trained and informed
on the essential principles of curatorial practice: the first-hand study of Académie
principles and a keen sense of discipline and correctness required for “good taste.”36
For academicians such as Hérault, the hierarchy of art genres reigned supreme in the
Académie’s doctrine and in the cultivation of good taste. Marked as the pinnacle of
high art and occupying the top tier was history painting; those paintings whose subjects
were drawn from history, mythology, and religion and typically told through allegory.
The remaining hierarchical order placed portraiture as the second highest form of art
followed by genre painting, landscapes, and at the bottom of the hierarchy, still-life.37
The genre hierarchy functioned to both “sort and assess” great art, but each
genre, particularly history painting, carried with it specific visual language privy to
those educated in the art world. Meaning, you need to have the key if you want to
decipher the code. With that being the case, when looking at Langlois’s engraving,
one can immediately notice that the layout relied upon academic standards. Looking
to both the left and right walls of the Grand Galerie’s exhibition space, portrait
paintings were situated below the ceiling and at floor level, as were objects from
the less revered genres. The large-sized history paintings were installed just at or
near eye level, the best location for spectators to gaze upon the “genius” present
within such works, and their considerable size certainly distracted viewers from
surrounding works. Likewise, while portraits were considered of higher import-
ance than landscapes, genre paintings, and still-lifes, one can see that the viewing of
high-placed portraits were often sacrificed to make the viewing of history paintings
easier, and thus priority, as evidenced in the multiple downward angling of large
history paintings. The gravity of importance of such paintings, moreover, can be
found in Langlois’s piece wherein the image depicts almost all of the upper-class
attendees directing their attention to history paintings. Here, we see several groups
of people dotting the gallery and engaged in discussion, pointing to specific his-
tory paintings. This detail has the potential to provide great insight into the weight
history paintings carried in early modern French society and only reinforces my
argument that the Académie included a coded display in their exhibition. While
Langlois’ engraving does not give us the full spectrum of the exhibition, we can look
to the salon livret (see Figure 4.3) for an entire overview of the spatial organization
of the Grand Galerie exhibition.
The Salon de 1699’s official livret reads according to the organization of the salon
as it was designed for spectators. Returning to Crow’s early assertion that the exhib-
ition failed to reference artist identity nor academic rank, upon examining the livret
as a whole, the genre hierarchy significance is recognizable in the arrangement of
the artwork. Here, Hérault’s exhibition design produces a linear path of absolutist
“seeing” dictated by academic ideology on artist and genre hierarchy. For example,
upon entering the first section, or trumeau, of the salon space, an elaborate entrance
decorated with an elevated green velvet and gold and silver embellished throne-like
canopy housing future Director of the Académie Charles François Poerson’s portraits
of the king and the dauphin greeted visitors. Moving to the second trumeau, white
marble sculptures of the late queen Marie-Thérèse and the dauphin paired with a
bronze sculpture of Louis XIV by former sculptor to the king and lead academician
Antoine Coysevox were prominently displayed. Much like the second, the third tru-
meau contained white marble sculptures by Simon Hurtrelle, a close confidant to the
26
Figure 4.3 Liste des tableaux et des ouvrages de sculpture exposés dans la grande galerie du
Louvre par MM. les peintres et sculpteurs de l’Academie royale en la présente année
1699 (Paris; Printed by Jean Baptiste Coignard for the King, 1699), Bibliotheque
Nationale de France, Paris.
king and academician since 1690. Of particular importance to the commencing tru-
meaux is Hérault’s placement of six portraits by Antoine Benoist, former painter to
the king. In each trumeaux window, Benoist’s three paintings depicting the reception
of the Siam ambassadors and their chancellor were hung, as well as three paintings
depicting the Russian Moscovy ambassador and diplomats. As conceived here, the
three trumeaux represent in sum the king’s absolute reign and diplomatic triumphs,
thus providing viewers with a recollection of the king’s recent reign, or his history.
Viewed through this lens, the trumeaux act as a preface to the exhibition wherein
the Académie spatially organized and communicated to their spectators a cohesive
message of the king’s prominence within France and the institution, the resources he
bestowed upon them, and the gifts academicians, in return, created.38
36

Such a layout also highlights a social network of artists, all of whom had extensive
connections to the crown through various architectural and visual arts commissions
throughout the second half of the 17th century. Succeeding the entrance dedicated to
the king, the remaining trumeaux were devoted to elite academicians’ contemporary
works. Namely, Girardon, the king’s official sculptor, exhibited numerous pieces,
including a mini bronze replica of the colossal equestrian sculpture, in trumeau six.
Noël Coypel, Director of the Académie from 1695 to 1699, exhibited 11 paintings
in the sixth trumeau, of which 10 were history paintings containing mythological
and religious allegories. The livret emphasizes the importance of exhibiting Coypel’s
paintings by noting that the king commissioned the four Hercules paintings for the
Grand Trianon, as well as four large paintings depicting classical Roman allegories,
which were destined for the Salle des Gardes de la Reine at Versailles. In the remaining
trumeaux, elite academicians, including Nicholas de Largillière, Antoine Coypel,
François de Troy, etc., were given individual rooms while lesser-known members of
the Académie, those specializing in lesser valued genres or up-and-coming members,
shared a trumeau. At the end of the exhibition, which is visible in Langlois’ engraving,
the livret indicates that spectators met a portrait of the king’s right-hand man and
Protecteur of the Académie, Mansart, upon exiting the exhibition.39
When examining the exhibition layout of the objects within the salon trumeaux,
Hérault’s design serves to convey a very specific narrative. As stated above, the
Académie highlighted the king’s connection to their institution. That is, the entirety
of the artists’ work served as a visualization, particularly the history paintings and
marble and bronze sculptures exhibited, of the skill and advancements made in French
culture, but also of Louis himself. Noel Coypel’s Hercules paintings, for example,
provide a compelling argument for how exhibition design and painting composition
worked in tandem during the glorification process. Take Coypel’s painting, Hercules
Deified; The Apotheosis of Hercules, which depicts the moment in which the Greek
gods transform Hercules into a god. Here, within the lower right side of the painted
scene, Hercules is seated in a golden chariot led by two horses. Floating just in front
of Hercules, two putti are tasked with placing a crown of laurels upon their newly
deified god. Hermes, flying next to the chariot, directs Hercules (and the viewer) with
his hand to the gods above where, upon arrival, Hercules will join in the ranks of the
mightiest of all. Themes of perseverance, triumph, and glory permeate the canvas and
encourage the viewer to imagine what might come next: Hercules, the God, “stationed
among the shining stars.”40 Therefore, we must ask how this painting might reference
Louis XIV?
Roman mythology, and particularly Hercules, was a common iconographic trope
in Louis XIV’s visual landscape. Theorists of Louis’ visual imagery note that when a
ruler was depicted as Hercules in early modern Europe, such a metaphor conveyed
strength or invoke Hercules’ ease in problem-solving. But the metaphor also identi-
fied Hercules as a ruler and, as Peter Burke suggests, Louis’s embodiment or asso-
ciation with such a figure was viewed “as if the aura of the demigod rubbed off on
him…”41 For the purpose of this essay, it is important to note that by 1699, Louis’s
portraits mainly represented his own actions rather than using allegories of mytho-
logical scenes. We do know, however, that many of his commissions, including the
Salon d’Hercule at Versailles, contained allegories of the mythology of Hercules des-
pite this visual shift. As such, if we look back to the salon configuration, we can
46

recall that Coypel’s Hercules paintings were placed just after the king’s portrait, his
diplomatic achievements, and Girondon’s mini equestrian sculpture. An examination
of this linear spatial arrangement suggests that the trumeaux and their arrangements
work in unison to communicate a didactic message of strength and divine right just as
we saw at the l’Oratoire in 1687. But it also calls attention to the position of the artist
within in the academic hierarchy, as those artists exhibited closest to the king’s portrait
were the noblest. Thus, Hérault’s early design initiatives were nothing short of inten-
tional, as such an exhibition arrangement was a means for educating the public on
the Académie’s politics of absolute viewership. Didacticism was the very point of the
exhibition. Spectators didn’t necessarily need to know exactly what they were viewing
in terms of composition, but they did need to know that those easiest to view, the
paintings with the largest and most complex allegories, and those arranged closest to
the king were of most importance, and thus created by prestigious artists. What I am
getting at here is that the academician and the art genre hierarchy were the guiding
principles for Hérault’s exhibition design and that previous scholarly assumptions
about a “hodge-podge” ordering ignores the Académie’s prominent role within the
state glory machine and how they executed glorification through public exhibition.
With such an argument, one would often turn to the examination of the reception
of such a meaningful exhibition design to weigh the possible outcomes amongst salon
spectators. But this analysis focuses on the role of the Académie in exhibiting the king’s
glory and the great lengths they took in designing an exhibition organized around abso-
lutist themes. A look behind the scenes at the small, minute details of the salon reveal
much more about the intentions of the Académie and Hérault. Thomas Crow, for
example, notes that the Grand Galerie allotted academicians the opportunity to unveil
a salon “far grander scale than its predecessors” wherein Hérault displayed objects
against familiar forms of interior decoration akin to private collector’s practices.42
As art historian Rochelle Ziskin has shown in their recent work on collecting during
the turn of the 18th century, private modes of display in home salons emphasized
personal taste and opinion, which influenced how art display was “conceived, shaped,
adorned, and furnished” to complement the patron and the architectural layout and
embellishments of the home.43 The exhibition of one’s personal collection made room
for agency in display and subjectivity in artistic preference. But the Académie salon
always functioned in this manner, except within the bounds of absolutism, so the only
taste and opinion of significance to ever gain traction is that of Louis XIV. In conse-
quence of this, the Salon de 1699 was submerged in absolutist glory in both pictorial
references, as well as in the arrangement of objects within the exhibition space. With
such a configuration in mind, maybe we should look at personal salons as microcosms
of Académie salons, as their function was not too different.
In a way, this analysis of the public and salon exhibition is about seeking out
subjectivity within art display, but it’s also about discrediting that idea, as the only
sense of subjectivity permeating into salon exhibition practices at this moment was
of the Académie. And we know this because while the popularity of artists and their
artwork relied upon public opinion and criticism, the Académie and state officials
still “denounced, ridiculed, suppressed, and largely ignored” their responses.44 Why?
Because critics, particularly those not funded by the crown, were the least sympa-
thetic to the Académie and its members’ artworks. Their adverse remarks countered
all they worked to instil. And, rather than truly open the doors for public art engage-
ment, academicians did the complete opposite and called for more official rules and
56

languages to better guide art criticism and institute absolutist academic practices into
public discourse. Hence, the salon of 1699 was not truly a shared or democratic space,
as has been argued.
The Académie built a social network to bridge the private with the public through
their theories on art, collecting, and display to communicate their artistic standards
and practices to the French world. Upon Mansart’s advancement, he promoted
French writer and amateur painter Roger de Piles as amateur honoraire and chief
theoretician to revive the forgotten educational conferences, which were open to both
academicians and the public.45 De Piles, known and respected in both the royal and
bourgeois circles, was a well-liked figure who could bridge the gap between institu-
tion and private collector. For the art critic, the rules of composition, drawing, colour,
and expression were of chief concern, as they allowed for the formation of the “right”
judgement of works of art. Yet, formal qualities were only half of the equation. Just
five months before the salon (16 May 1699), de Piles presented a conference on his
recently published book, A Compendium of Painters’ Lives. Under the guidance of
the Académie, De Piles laid out his aesthetic discourse through the three parts of
painting: composition, design, and colour.46 While emphasis had switched from the
primary importance of drawing to now colour, all of which stems from a longstanding
and heated debate on colour and line between the Ancients and the Moderns, or
the Rubenists and the Poussinists, de Piles’ “new” theoretical discourse conveyed the
Académie’s earlier call for the emulation of absolutist rule and its role in establishing
the grandeur of the monarchy through the visual arts. Such an ideology can be found
in the second conference held by de Piles in July 1699, in which he stated:
The establishment (of the Académie) was made by the King to make painting
one of the most beautiful ornaments of his kingdom and consequently to main-
tain this Académie, which is his work. Its aim is to train great men in painting
and sculpture who can surpass, or at least match those who came before them.
And the means to achieve this are the facilities that the King provided …, by the
pensions that His Majesty gives to these Academies to maintain them and to indi-
viduals to which he rewards them, and by the statutes that the King approved and
that he wants to be observed.47
De Piles’ emphasis on artists’ responsibility to elevate the French visual arts in the
name of the king is further foregrounded in his continuation that artists are
like a prepared canvas on which they must paint the picture of their elevation, and
I do not believe that there is anyone here who does not want to give it his brush-
stroke and contribute as much as possible to such a worthy work.48
What is noticeable about de Piles’ discourse is the weight given to the king in his role
in birthing great artists of the nation through the Académie. Here, the king provides
all: the finances, directors, royal space, and a vast audience of subjects for which they
can obtain commissions. Through this lens, the Académie and its members are simply
by-products of the magnificence of the king. But what is also striking is the require-
ment that academicians must always produce work that promotes the state and is
reflective of the glory of the king. Thus, with this in mind, a random arrangement
akin to fitting puzzle pieces together does not align with the Académie’s campaigns,
6

particularly under Mansart and Hérault in 1699. Rather, what we see is a well-oiled
machine working overtime, and beyond the private walls of their institution, with
intentions of educating the public on the absolutist gaze, that is, how to view the
French school of art with the king’s eye.
Scholars often devote much of their attention to patron commissions, compositions,
and iconographic programmes as the primary markers of identity, meaning, and per-
suasion. But the way in which objects are displayed tell a story and serve as propa-
ganda, as well. Like the future Louvre Museum, the Académie’s arrangement of space
and the objects within their exhibitions were intentional and, particularly when
discussing late 17th-/early 18th-century modes of display, how they presented objects
to spectators was a method of advocacy and persuasion. And, just as Ian McClellan
argued that early museums, such as the Louvre, carried a heavy symbolic load on
behalf of governments and factions that sponsor them, so, too, did the salons, despite
their ephemerality and temporary exhibition space. The Académie’s salon exhibition
design and spatial arrangement, like the 18th-century Louvre, were intentional and
rooted in aesthetics theory and politics. Academicians communicated to the public
not only through their compositions, but through object arrangement and display.49
Salon exhibition layout had a purpose, and its meaning permeated every aspect of
the event.
The Académie held another salon in 1704 and ceased thereafter for over 22 years.
During this break, their interest in educating the public on absolutist viewership and
rulership of taste concluded with the death of Louis XIV and the subsequent rise of
the duc d’Orléans’ as Regent.50 If we look at the change taking place over time from
the Académie’s conception to the salon’s reimplementation in 1737, the various salon
absences have always hindered on the state of the crown, the king’s affairs, his glory,
and the need for invigorating the French people. And with every absence, a glorious
reinvigoration came, highlighting the crown’s prominence to the public. This cyclic
patter begs the question: Were curatorial practices purely a political move by the
crown? Or were there also social motivations guiding the public display of art?
Certainly, this essay does not serve to put a period at the end of early modern
exhibition practices. But what it does do is propose a very intentional and coded
spatial arrangement for Académie salons more than 40 years earlier than schol-
arship previously suggested, and it also opens the door for recognizing the power
structures in place, and the many ways in which it functioned. For example, when
France’s first museum at the Luxembourg Palace opened in 1750, curators compara-
tively exhibited artworks, a method inspired by de Piles’ art theory dating back to
the late 17th-century.51 Such a viewing, the placement of contrasting images side-
by-side to unveil the pictorial qualities and genius of both, was still largely reserved
for artists, the elite, and privileged aristocrats…those privy to academic training
on how to “look.”52 Yet, though the judgment of art was still not intended for the
uniformed citizen, the museum itself served to teach everyone how to look, whereby
it functioned as a “didactic and patriotic resonance” to the lower classes of French
society.53 Still, such an instruction is based on the Académie’s hierarchy, as it favours
the premiere academic painters, so we are still lacking a true democratization of
viewership. But this is not a fruitless endeavour, as recognizing the power dynamics
embedded within exhibition practice and space and understanding how they
functioned allows us to think about the many ways in which monarchical power was
exerted. Yet, such a recognition can also inspire future scholarship on how critics,
76

artists, and patrons subverted and deconstructed the monarchy’s authority in public
and private spaces throughout France. Nonetheless, understanding early modern
French curatorial practices allows us to identify the power structures embedded in
the exhibitions of today’s European-style museums and provides a better founda-
tion for us to truly start thinking about methods in which to dismantle longstanding
European hegemony over objects and how they are arranged and displayed to a
diverse global public.
Notes
1 Richard Wrigley, “Censorship and Anonymity in Eighteenth-Century French Art Criticism,”
Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 6, no. 2 (1983): 17.
2 Mercure galant, “Extrait du Mercure galant de septembre 1699 relatif au Salon de la même
année,” September 1699, 224–227. All translations are my own.
3 Peter Burke, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992): 5.
4 Ibid., “Introducing Louis XIV,” 7–8. The notion of “theater,” Burke explains, is attributed to
Anthropologist Clifford Geertz’s term “theater state” used in the chapter “Deep Play: Notes
on the Balinese Cockfight” in The Interpretation of Cultures (1973).
5 Ibid.
6 Thomas Crow, “A public space in the making,” Painter and Public Life in Eighteenth-
Century Paris (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985): 1–3.
7 Thomas Crow, “A Public Space in the Making,” 38.
8 Nikolaus Pevsner, “Baroque and Rococo,” Academies of Art Past and Present (Cambridge
University Press, 1940): 85.
9 Pevsner says the Vice-Protector is the real ruler of the Académie.
10 Ibid., 87.
11 Peter Burke, “The Construction of the System,” The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1992): 49. Burke notes that Colbert was inspired by poet and
critic Jean Chapelain who wrote a report to Colbert in 1662 on the uses of the arts “for
preserving the splendor of the king’s enterprises.”
12 Nikolaus Pevsner, “Baroque and Rococo (1600-1750),” 87–93.
13 Burke, “The Construction of the System,” 49.
14 Ibid., 50–51.
15 Anatole de Montaiglon, Le Livret de l’Exposition faite en 1673 dans la cour du Palais
royal, réimprimé avec des notes par Anatole de Montaiglon,... et suivi d’un essai de
bibliographie des livrets et des critiques de salons depuis 1673 jusqu’en 1851 (Paris,
France, 1852): II–III.
16 Robert W. Berger, “Academy exhibitions under Louis XIV,” Public Access to Art in Paris: A
Documentary History from the Middle Ages to 1800 (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania
State University Press, 1999): 63–69.
17 Pevsner, “Chapter III: Baroque and Rococo (1600-1750),” 104.
18 Burke, “Sunset,” 110.
19 Guy Walton, “Versailles in an Era of Political and Military Disaster,” Louis XIV’s Versailles
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986): 175–176. See also: Peter Burke, “Sunset,”
The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992).
20 Daniel Cronstrōm to Nicodème Tessin the Younger, Les Relations artistiques entre la
France et la Suède (1693–1718). Extraits d’une correspondance entre l’architecte N. Tessin
le Jeune et D. Cronström 4/24 October 1698 (Publiés par R.-A. Weigert et C. Hernmarck,
Stockholm, 1964), 27, 206. See also: Etienne Jollet, “The Monument to Louis XIV at the
Palace Vendôme (1699) as a Technical Achievement: A Question of Interest,” Art History,
Vol. 39, no. 2 (April 2016): 33.
86

21 Peter Burke has aptly named Colbert’s glory campaign the “glory machine,” and I continue
to use it in this essay, as I argue the Salon of 1699’s exhibition layout was included in such
a system.
22 Burke, 93–94. The provinces included in Colbert and Lebrun’s statue campaign included: Aix,
Angers, Arles, Besançon, Bordeaux, Caen, Dijon, Grenoble, Le Havre, Limoges, Lyons,
Marseilles, Montpellier, Pau, Poitiers, Rennes, Tours, and Troyes.
23 Floret Le Comte, Cabinet des singularitez d’architecture, peinture, sculpture et graveure
(Paris: 1699–1700): 200.
24 Etienne Jollet, “The Monument to Louis XIV at the Palace Vendôme (1699) as a Technical
Achievement: A Question of Interest,” Art History, Vol. 39, no. 2 (April 2016): 321.
25 Yuriko Jackall, “The Livres of the Salon, 1673-1800,” Documenting the Salon, (Washington,
D.C.; National Gallery of Art Library, 2016): 23.
26 Thomas Crow, “A public space in the making,” Painter and Public Life in Eighteenth-
Century Paris (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985): 36.
27 Ibid., 35.
28 Thomas Crow, “Introduction,” Painter and Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Paris (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1985): 3.
29 Liste des tableaux et des ouvrages de sculpture exposés dans la grande galerie du Louvre
par MM. les peintres et sculpteurs de l’Academie royale en la présente année 1699, (Paris;
Printed by Jean Baptiste Coignard for the King, 1699), 3.
30 Thomas Crow, “A Public Space in the Making,” 38. See also: Y. Jackall, “The Livres of the
Salon,” 25.
31 Ibid.
32 Ian McClellan, “Introduction,” Inventing the Louvre: Art, Politics, and the Origins of
the Modern Museum in Eighteenth-Century Paris (Berkeley; Los Angeles: University of
California Press, 1994): 1.
33 Description des tableaux & des autres ornemens dont l’Academie royale de peinture & de
sculpture a decoré l’eglise des Reverends Peres de l’Oratoire de la ruë S. Honoré, où elle fait
rendre graces à Dieu pour la guerison du Roy, (Paris: De l’Imprimerie de N. Pepingué, ruë
Vieille-Bouclerie, au Soleil d’or, 1687), 1.
34 Ibid., 2.
35 Salon Conferences, p. 202. See also: Y. Jackall, “The Livres of the Salon.”
36 Ester Bell, “A Curator at the Louvre: Charles Coypel and the Royal Collections,” Journal
18: A Journal of Eighteenth-Century Art and Culture, Issue 2 (Fall 2016): 2.
37 Mary Sheriff, “France,” Academies of Art (publisher unknown, date unknown): 45.
38 Liste des tableaux et des ouvrages de sculpture exposés dans la grande galerie du Louvre
par MM. les peintres et sculpteurs de l’Academie royale en la présente année 1699, (Paris;
Printed by Jean Baptiste Coignard for the King, 1699), 4-5.
39 Ibid., 5–6.
40 Ovid, “Death and Apotheosis of Hercules,” Metamorphoses (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1986): 207.
41 Peter Burke, “Chapter IX: The Crisis of Representations,” 131.
42 Thomas Crow, “A Public Space in the Making,” 38.
43 Rochelle Ziskin, “The Maisaon Crozat Transformed,” Sheltering Art: Collecting and Social
Identity in Early Eighteenth-Century Paris (University Park, Penn.: The Pennsylvania State
University Press, 2012): 69–71.
44 Crow, 9.
45 Ibid., “A Public Space in the Making,” 36.
46 Roger de Piles, “Roger de Piles fait present à l’Académie de son Abrégé de la vie des peintres”
in Conférences de l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, Tome 3 (1699-1711), (16
mai 1699), 27.
96

47 Roger de Piles, “Visite de Jules Hardouin-Mansart à l’Académie: Roger de Piles: Sur la
nécessité d’établir des principes certains à la peinture et à la sculpture,” in Conférences de
l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, Tome 3 (1699-1711), (6 juillet 1699): 28–29.
48 Ibid.
49 McClellan, “Introduction,” 2.
50 Pevsner, 105.
51 Roger de Piles, Auteur du texte. Conversations sur la connoissance de la peinture, et sur le
jugement qu’on doit faire des tableaux. Où par occasion il est parlé de la vie de Rubens, &
de quelques-uns de ses plus beaux ouvrages (Paris, 1677): 1–3.
52 McClellan, p. 31.
53 Ibid.
References
Primary Sources
Académie Royal, Liste des tableaux et des ouvrages de sculpture exposés dans la grande galerie
du Louvre par MM. les peintres et sculpteurs de l’Academie royale en la présente année 1699
(Paris: Printed by Jean Baptiste Coignard for the King, 1699).
Author unknown, Description des tableaux & des autres ornemens dont l’Academie royale
de peinture & de sculpture a decoré l’eglise des Reverends Peres de l’Oratoire de la ruë
S. Honoré, où elle fait rendre graces à Dieu pour la guerison du Roy (Paris: De l’Imprimerie
de N. Pepingué, ruë Vieille-Bouclerie, au Soleil d’or, 1687).
Le Comte, Florent, Cabinet des singularitez d’architecture, peinture, sculpture et graveure
(Nicolas le Clerc: Paris: 1699–1700).
Cronstrōm, Daniel et Nicodème Tessin the Younger, Les Relations artistiques entre la France
et la Suède (1693– 1718). Extraits d’une correspondance entre l’architecte N. Tessin le
Jeune et D. Cronström 4/ 24 October 1698 (Stockholm: Publiés par R.- A. Weigert et
C. Hernmarck, 1964).
“Extrait du Mercure galant de septembre 1699 relatif au Salon de la même année,” Le Mercure
galant, September 1699.
de Piles, Roger, Auteur du texte. Conversations sur la connoissance de la peinture, et sur le
jugement qu’on doit faire des tableaux. Où par occasion il est parlé de la vie de Rubens, &
de quelques-uns de ses plus beaux ouvrages (Nicolas Langlois: Paris, 1677).
de Piles, Roger, Conférences de l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, Tome 3
(1699-1711) (Centre Allemand D’Histoire de L’Art, Paris: Beaux- arts de Paris les
éditions, 2009).
Secondary Sources
Bell, Ester, “A Curator at the Louvre: Charles Coypel and the Royal Collections,” Journal 18: A
Journal of Eighteenth-Century Art and Culture, Issue 2 (Fall 2016).
Berger, Robert W, “Academy Exhibitions under Louis XIV,” Public Access to Art in Paris: A
Documentary History from the Middle Ages to 1800 (University Park: Pennsylvania State
University Press, 1999), 61–81.
Burke, Peter, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992).
Crow, Thomas, Painter and Public Life in Eighteenth- Century Paris (New Haven: Yale
Jackall, Yuriko, et al., Documenting the Salon (Washington D.C.; National Gallery of Art
Library, 2016).
07

Jollet, Etienne, “The Monument to Louis XIV at the Palace Vendôme (1699) as a Technical
Achievement: A Question of Interest,” Art History, Vol. 39, no. 2 (April 2016), 318–339.
McClellan, Ian, Inventing the Louvre: Art, Politics, and the Origins of the Modern Museum
in Eighteenth-Century Paris (Berkeley; Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1994).
de Montaiglon, Anatole, Le Livret de l’Exposition faite en 1673 dans la cour du Palais royal,
réimprimé avec des notes par Anatole de Montaiglon,... et suivi d’un essai de bibliographie
des livrets et des critiques de salons depuis 1673 jusqu’en 1851 (Paris, France, 1852).
Pevsner, Nikolaus, Academies of Art Past and Present (London: Cambridge University
Press, 1940).
Sheriff, Mary, “France,” Academies of Art (publisher unknown, date unknown): 45.
Walton, Walton, Louis XIV’s Versailles (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986).
Wrigley, Richard, “Censorship and Anonymity in Eighteenth-Century French Art Criticism,”
Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 6, no. 2 (1983), 17–28.
Ziskin, Rochelle, Sheltering Art: Collecting and Social Identity in Early Eighteenth-century
Paris (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012).
17
Part 3
Domestic Spaces
27
37
5
Exhibition Design, Display Strategies,
and Aesthetic Promenades at the Court
of Gonzaga
Pamela Bianchi
Introduction
Ancient and modern dress: in the matter of dressing rooms, the ancients win in
some instances and we in others. They are victorious in the decoration of baths,
gold and silver vases, columns, and marble panelling. If we are not equal to them
in the working of floors, ceilings, pavements, and sumptuous chairs, then we are
only a little behind. We win in silk and gold tapestries, carpets, doors, tables,
pottery […], and paintings.1
The origins of the contemporary exhibition practices and structural paradigms that
preside over the idea of exhibition space (as we consider it today) should not be
sought in the ancient practice of turning some rooms into a pure and simple showing
place. Rather, they should be considered through the lens of the interrelation of sev-
eral factors (architectural, social, personal, symbolic) that concern, first of all, the
idea of housing2 as a unified complex. Far from the modern notions of exhibiting and
exhibition space, early spaces where images began to be installed were linked, for
instance, to the need to accompany and delight the eye during long walks in internal
galleries, gardens, or external courtyards. Those venues were spaces where one could
exercise3 to keep fit and thus respond, especially for prelates and other members of
the clergy, to a sedentary life. For instance, 17th-century Roman galleries were pre-
ferred spaces for exercising, especially to avoid problems of an outdoor exercise often
disadvantaged by bad weather and steep terrain. This habit also explains the prac-
tice of decorating galleries and rooms where people used to walk, with landscape
paintings to emulate the outdoors and the natural environment. “By adorning galleries
with landscape paintings, patrons and collectors transposed outdoor conditions to
indoor settings that could be used year-round, creating an effective substitute […] for
an open outdoor space in which to exercise body, mind and eyes.”4 This habit was
already highlighted by Vitruvius’s ambulatione, i.e. covered “promenades,” long and
narrow spaces, internal and external, which were propitious to walking, and which
were decorated with statues.5
Beyond this specific habit, already in the Renaissance but above all in the Baroque
period, the whole dwelling was generally considered as the ideal place to exhibit the
magnificence of the owner, thanks to the staging of his/her material assets, i.e. his/her
collection. With its internal organization and a specific decoration for each environ-
ment, the house appeared as the visual means to represent the status of the individual
in the world and within a society. To put it differently, the notion of the house should
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-8
47
74 Pamela Bianchi

be considered as the matrix of private and public manifestations of the ideas of both
living and representing:
The house is the place where everyone builds a sort of staging of daily action, a
privileged space of memory and the accumulation of objects, a personal museum
of the continuity of family genealogies and their legacies.6
In the 16th and 17th centuries, within the European upper middle class and aristoc-
racy, house owners presented themselves to the community by flaunting the internal
and external decoration of their dwellings. This correspondence, between body and
building and more specifically between house and owner, was mainly elaborated by
Renaissance theorists, such as Vincenzo Scamozzi: “As with a man’s face, one must
be able to understand that it is the house of a gentleman from these external signs.”7
The habit of seeing the portrait of its inhabitant in the house developed most in Italy8
already at the end of the 15th century, where the awareness of art and artists was
flourishing. The Renaissance Italian home was a central focus of social exchange,
and its spatial arrangement was directed by a symbolic logic that allowed owners to
shape their social image. At the same time, the quality and quantity of the interior and
exterior decoration served to symbolize their intellectual power. Also, as a domestic
context having a public function, the Renaissance house was neither public nor pri-
vate, but a space of sociability that linked these two spheres, thanks to specific dis-
play practices. This condition became fundamental in the Baroque palaces, especially
the Roman ones, which were considered as devices, kinds of theatrical machine9
whose architecture facilitated the setting up of artworks, goods, and other artefacts.
Moreover, in this context of dramatization, owners often rethought their gestures
and behaviours to achieve the main intent, i.e. to impress the guests. The visit to the
palace frequently developed following a precise schedule, previously thought out: the
passage from one room to another involved a logic of setting up the art collection
which was sometimes correlated to the time that the visitors would have spent in that
room. Eventually, to sublimate the guests’ experience, it was a matter of ritualizing the
display gesture by performing the owners’ behaviours, dramatizing the design of the
rooms, and meticulously structuring the order of the visit of the latter.10
It was thus in this social context that the first exhibition methods arise alongside
a specific logic aimed at conveying a specific message and presenting a precise image
to the visitors.
Visitors experienced the art by moving along a path through differentiated spaces,
along a course that might include stairs. And paintings, though unique works of
art in themselves, were hung together to form a rich surface of colour and imagery
comparable to the luxurious fabrics that otherwise would have decorated the
walls.11
In short, the modern Renaissance building and the Baroque one12 could be seen as
the prototypes of what we now define as an exhibition space. Clearly, considering
the house as one of the first forms of exhibition space means taking into account the
relationship between the spatial arrangement of environments and the display logic
of items, through the filter of the social issues. Vice versa, it implies a reconsideration
of the main notion of exhibition space and the implicit idea of exhibiting, in light of
57
Aesthetic Promenades at the Gonzaga Court 75

the specific historical and geographical context. Indeed, in the early modern period,
although many noble palaces were set with an assortment of exhibits temporarily
displayed within various rooms, the act of showing was motivated more by the desire
to create a visual message and a symbolic image13 than to shape a conceptual and aes-
thetic narrative. Accordingly, the first image appearing to viewers was that of a meta-
phorical topos: a place whose layout and decoration was designed to show off, first
of all, the social and intellectual power of the house owner. It was precisely through
“[…] the possession of objects, [that the individual] physically acquire[d]‌awareness,
knowledge, and, through their display, symbolically achieve[d] the honour and repu-
tation that all academics cultivate.”14
This condition is obviously linked to the idea that one had of the collection and
the cultural artefact, and the use made of them at the time. Indeed, the Renaissance
concept of collection was still linked to the medieval one for which collecting objects
and artefacts was a “[…] projection towards the outside of the original primitive con-
cept of possession as an ornament, with the consequent transition from movable and
changeable to immovable and durable.”15 The idea of projecting one’s own power
outward through the dramatization of one’s possessions then became a real habit,
especially from the second half of the 16th century onwards. In that period, the habit
of exhibiting, first antiquities and then paintings, shifted into a real means to pub-
licly demonstrate “[...] the magnificence [...] and a way of asserting [the aristocracy’s]
position.”16
From this point of view, the dwelling finally appears to be the “architectural” por-
trait of its owner and, as such, a prominent place to show off. Although we are still far
from the contemporary ideas of exhibition space and exhibiting, this situation might
be understood as one of the main circumstances that defined the genealogical premises
of the exhibition system.
Performing the Ritual

The idea of the house as a dynamic exhibition space, where and thanks to which
owners presented themselves to society, turns the act of showing into a political,
social, and representative action. At least until the end of the 15th century, these
(exhibiting) practices were founded more on an aesthetic and diplomatic logic than
on an iconographic one. At that time, indeed, objects, statues, jewels, stones, weapons,
or paintings often represented the symbol of a diplomatic agreement or political nego-
tiations, and they accordingly acquired prestige and value, thanks to the one who
offered and the one who received. Given as a token of approval, these artefacts were
displayed, for instance, at the forefront,17 to emphasize the political or social bond
they represented. That is to say, first, that the logic of their display was subordinated
to the message the artefact had to symbolize, to the ways it performed it, and to the
manners it dialogued and engaged with viewers. And second, that the genesis and the
history of objects can explain the multiple functions they performed over the years,
movements, and societies. However, possession of items came to concern also the aes-
thetic qualities and intellectual concepts that such objects transmitted. This situation,
already widespread in the late Middle Ages, was often linked to the decoration of
the studioli, which, far from being simple spaces of private knowledge, were mostly
considered as spaces where sociability was exhibited. Indeed, both objects displayed
(diplomatic gifts, devotional tools, collected works) and social activities organized
67
76 Pamela Bianchi

within the studioli indicate today how this such a private space also maintained a
public dimension.
Yet, artefacts (paintings, sculptures, tapestries, fabrics, objects, furniture) kept playing
an ornamental role: not yet considered as ekphrastic18 works, they were considered
instead as decorative elements, often preserved and stocked in the guardaroba.19 Also,
they were designed and created to be inserted within a private residence and a well-
defined ornamental and structural layout.20 Especially paintings, they were often
thought of as scenographic devices used to fill spaces according to the decorative and
representative needs of each environment. Frequently organized according to their
genre, they were considered in relation to space and place. Together with objects, fur-
niture, decorations, and fabrics, paintings participated in the definition of a complex
decorative display that, most of the time, ended up becoming a very metaphorical
installation on an architectural scale. A common example, apt to visually translate the
relationship between contexts and items, is the humanist cabinet: an “artwork” space
in which the contemplation of the single object gives room to the phenomenological
experience of an overall vision, and where “[…] one sees not only the picture in the
frame but also the framed picture within a larger environment.”21
From the microcosm of the studiolo to the macrocosm of the palace, the organ-
izational approach of environments was often the same. As a sort of “scenographic
machine,” the arrangement of the palace was dictated by a precise balance between
different types of aesthetic and also practical/technical requirements, like, for instance,
the problem of heating rooms. That is why, while paintings mostly embellished
galleries and passageways (which did not need to be heated, being places of temporary
passage), parati,22 textiles, or tapestries wholly covered walls of socially more active
rooms, like the throne’s one, or the audience hall (and thus protecting these environ-
ments from the cold). Also, as I mentioned before, because “the first galleries in private
houses were created for walking, paintings were hung on the walls of these interiors
to give people something to watch while they were walking.”23 In other words, before
the first rooms (galleries)24 had been established inside palaces to accommodate
collections, in the first half of the 16th century, paintings, sculptures, tapestries, and
other artefacts were mostly considered as decorative elements for “dressing”25 interior
spaces and architectural exteriors.
The metaphorical image of dressing up building echoes, here, the aforementioned
symbolic correspondence between the home and its owner. Indeed, being the architec-
tural portrait of its owner, the house had to be dressed, adorned, and staged to create
an environment suitable for translating the solemn image of its owner during public
or private events. In the early modern period, and particularly in the Baroque age,
there was no possibility of presenting a bare or unclothed dwelling: “[…] no more the
whitewashed plaster of a wall should be visible than the naked body of the propri-
etor.”26 This correspondence also echoes the etymological roots of the term “display,”
which connects it to the art of fabrics. From the medieval Latin displicare,27 the act
of displaying meant initially “to unfold” and has, therefore, been connected to the
practice, widespread throughout the Renaissance and beyond, of unfolding tapestries
and fabrics (canopies) to announce and proclaim the presence of kings, aristocrats, or
high prelates.
In the 17th century, instead, a structural and aesthetic change then took place
concerning the creation of the first rooms dedicated to showing the collections. At that
time, especially in Italy, there were three typical chambers in a palace: one for social
7

life and to receive friends, one “to appear” and one for family intimacy.28 Thus, the
main function of the palace, as a place of residence, was replaced by the need to pub-
licly share the collections of paintings and antiquities, which had now become a value
to show. The artefacts first adorning the whole building ended up being moved to spe-
cific spaces (galleries) likely to magnify their value and to symbolize the power of the
collector. However, this does not mean that the rooms in the rest of the building were
left bare. On the contrary, especially in the 17th century, greater awareness about the
aesthetic potential of environment displays introduced specific logic to arrange and
decorate spaces with artefacts, depending on their genre and value.29 The passage from
a domestic space, not characterized by a precise role (if not the one linked to domestic
functions), to a venue used for exhibiting purposes, is also the vector describing the
change in the aesthetic taste of the time, especially concerning the social value of the
works. At the same time, this displacement of artefacts from an ordinary space to an
exhibiting one “consists in the loss by objects of the liturgical, ceremonial, decorative
or utilitarian role which was originally theirs”30 and in the consequent acquisition of
an aesthetic and artistic role. Thus, as soon as the paintings and antiquities began to
acquire the cultural value of a work of art and as the collection consequently became
more and more public, the structural and aesthetic layout of the palace changed.
Places of social representation (salons, antechambers, galleries), where collections
were usually set up, began to be separated from domestic and private environments,
so the access to these public spaces occurred in full autonomy, without requiring
visitors to go through the house.31 This organization then became a habit, throughout
the 17th-century Italy, when rooms for paintings and antiquities were positioned so
that visitors could not see any other places in the building than the exhibiting ones.
The metaphorical image of the “dressed” home objectified the building, which
became, internally and externally, the first artefact to be shown. In this regard, once
again, the Roman Baroque palaces32 are cases in point. The organization of environ-
ments was mostly structured for welcoming public visits, according to the idea of the
spatial and aesthetic promenade.33 Visitors roaming around various spaces, followed a
succession of specially set spaces. Here, different aesthetic criteria and concepts, such
as the symmetry and varietas ones, were involved in the display apparatus. If the var-
iety of the items was intended to delight the visitor’s time with a varied iconographic
programme, symmetry responded, in turn, to the visual need to balance the shapes of
paintings or sculptures with the decorative rigour of the walls.
From the juxtaposition of the works that, according to occasions and periods,
were set up by genre, form or chronologically, a symmetrical and regular arrangement
was then drawn, creating a rhythm within an architectural and decorative appar-
atus serving as both frame and exhibition device. This stylistic and aesthetic fusion
was aimed at creating a totalizing environment, visually balanced, having a critical,
eulogistic, and symbolic function in the transmission of the message that the owner
wanted to convey to visitors. Therefore, the experience of the spatial apparatus was
not limited to the single room (like humanist studioli) but developed, thanks to the
architectural walk suggested by the succession of rooms. The visit to the palace was
thus a phenomenological experience of spatial embodiment. This last consideration
far anticipates the modernist reflections regarding the aesthetics of architectural spa-
tiality that animated the entire 20th century and of which Le Corbusier is the spokes-
person. Suffice it to think, in this sense, of the idea of an architectural promenade put
to light by the architect that is a movement made possible “by the eyes that see, by the
87
78 Pamela Bianchi

head that turns, and the legs that walk.”34 Likewise, inside a Baroque palace, the visit
experience was strongly based on the possibility of experiencing a space in its totality,
intended both as a container and as a content.
It was a sort of architectural walk that, once again, recalls today the movement
of the individual described by Le Corbusier within a whole understood as a series of
“successive [places], made up of pictures adding themselves one to the other, following
each other in time and space, like music.”35 Yet, this concept of the architectural
promenade, although it seems to go against the very precepts of baroque architecture
focused on the idea of a fixed point, becomes the vector of a heuristic movement. The
stroll, from room to room, shaped an aesthetic experience of space. In this regard, “the
dwelling” of the time must be considered as a sort of already modernist space which,
quoting Le Corbusier again, “[could] be appreciated only in walking, using one’s feet;
[indeed] it is in walking, in moving from place to place, that one can see the essential
elements of architecture developing.”36 Said differently, while maintaining a stylistic
autonomy, each room becomes part of a whole, i.e. a total work expanded on an
architectural scale, in the image of the palace.
Experiencing the Celeste Galleria

The Ducal Palace in Mantua of the Gonzaga family, alongside the transformations
it underwent over the years, and the succession of dukes, visually render a specific
iconographic programme that was translated into what today is called the Celeste
Galleria. Internally as well as externally, this palace played the role of an iconic object
which, over time, portrayed the family in different ways. Following the rhetoric of
appearance and the correspondence between house and owner, already around the
first half of the 16th century, the façades of the Ducal Palace were not only decorated,
but they were painted indeed, thus suggesting the idea of architectural “make up.”37
Concerning the interior, although today there are no visual representations that can
give an idea of the composition of the time, the inventory made in 162638 by the duke
Ferdinando Gonzaga is a key source for understanding the importance of this family
in the genealogy of the first exhibition spaces and practices. Despite the lapses, this
inventory allows ordering the palace spaces and shaping the display of the collection.
Also, the cross-study with a second inventory (1614), corresponding to the beginning
of Ferdinando’s reign and to the end of that of his father, the duke Vincenzo Gonzaga,
allows tracing specific transformations and changes made by Ferdinando.39 His goal
was indeed to give order, logic, and a modern meaning to the family collections and,
to do so, he undertook a transformation in terms of setting-up and space design. He
started by determining a criterion for the exhibition of artefacts, that was specific to
their iconography and the various rooms of the palace. He then defined a precise visit
path, and he opened up other spaces previously closed by Vincenzo and Guglielmo (in
particular, the studioli); ultimately, he made the palace a real experience.
Also, while in the inventory of 1614, rooms were named in relation to their pic-
torial decoration (Room of Fish, Apollo’s Room), in the second inventory (in 1626),
spaces were named concerning the typology of works and objects contained, and also
in relation to the topology of the rooms (such as the weapons room adjacent to the
large room). In this regard, this contemporary reading, not only allows us to under-
stand how, for Ferdinando, the collection prevailed over the decoration, but also that,
with him, spaces started to be defined according to their relation with the other spaces.
97

The two mentioned inventories (and their cross-study) are thus written testimonies of
the transition from the iconographic thought of Vincenzo to that one of Ferdinand
and, in particular, it allows us to understand Ferdinando (early) museographic project.
Beyond the inventories, also some letters40 written in 1628 by Daniel Nys, the con-
sultant of King Charles I of England, allow us to visually shape the organization of
the spaces of the palace. The Ducal Palace was indeed a kind of maze of rooms where
more than 1356 artworks, between paintings, drawings, engravings, were exhibited.
Duke Ferdinando, since the collection was for him a means to exhibit the power of the
family, conceived an overall vision of the palace that had to be seen and appreciated
by a spatial experience. The structure of the building followed a specific iconographic
(and museographical) approach, in which each space was dedicated to a specific cat-
egory of works: from the library for the collection of ancient books to the treasury
rooms for the sumptuary arts, from the paintings gallery of classical masterpieces to
the marbles gallery. Among these spaces, at that time of Duke Ferdinando inventory,
the Palazzo Ducale counted specific rooms dedicated to the showing of the collections
of antiquities and paintings: the Galerieta verso la Mostra, the Galeria Grande,41 the
Coridore longo che passa da Santa Barbara in Castello, the Logion Serato, and other
places of transition, such as the Passetto davanti al Camarino della Grotta or the
Stanza contigua alla Libreria.42
Wanting to follow a virtual walk inside the spaces of the palace, as they were in
1626, so the year of the second inventory, one of the first room a visitor could meet
was the Logion Serato che guarda nel giardino –Lozone de’ quadri: technically a
closed loggia which overlooked the garden, iconographically, a gallery of mirrors,
fulcrum of the exhibition structure, dedicated to the showing of ancient masters’
paintings. This space was the fulcrum of the entire exhibiting device of the Celeste
galleria. Ferdinando worked on its design and artefacts set up during all 13 years of
his reign without completely succeeding. He wanted to dedicate this space to ancient
masterpieces, to create an atmosphere evoking the Uffizi Tribune and the Roman
experiments of the time. According to the 1626 inventory, there were numerous stone
desks and tables, 43 framed paintings hanging on easels, busts of emperors, bronze
statues, and other sculptures exhibited, thanks to wooden pedestals.
Walking through this loggia, an ideal visitor could then reach the Coridore Longo
che passa da Santa Barbara in Castello: a long corridor opening in the centre towards
the Palatine basilica, connecting two sections of the building, and serving as storage
for paintings and sculptures. This space was a hybrid room. Not only did it play
a dual role, a temporary storage place for paintings and sculptures, and a junction
place between two other rooms, but it was also a space where the display was
performed. Indeed, in this hallway with windows on both sides, it was highly unlikely
that paintings were hung there. Moreover, since the 359 recorded artefacts (between
paintings and some drawings) had different sizes, they were probably stacked one on
top of the other without order or rigour.
From this corridor, one could then reach the Galerieta verso la Mostra or Galleria
piccola (a small gallery that led towards the exhibition, also called the gallery of
Marbles or Months). This room was built by Giulio Romano in 1530 like an open
loggia. Then, in 1572, Duke Guglielmo had the arches closed with glass walls
following the style of Roman galleries and giving precise indications to organize the
space and the architectural decoration in anticipation of the works that would later
be exhibited. Ippolito Andreasi’s drawings [Rilievo della parete settentrionale della
08
80 Pamela Bianchi

loggia dei Mesi, 1568] record the loggia before its closure and allow us to know its
previous arrangement, closely influenced by the relationship between the formats of
the sculptures and layout set by Giulio Romano. Duke Ferdinando, on the contrary,
designed the room to welcome sculptures: the 1626 inventory lists indeed 14 heads
on supports, bas-reliefs, and other installed sculptures and paintings. In accordance
with Duke Ferdinando’s wishes, the function and name of this gallery was also linked
to its adjacent hall, which was the Galeria Grande or Galleria della mostra (the
main gallery of exhibitions). Built around 1592 by Duke Vincenzo to collect modern
paintings, the gallery was the core of the palace, a work in progress room that has
changed constantly so that today is almost impossible to know the arrangement of
the artefacts. Still, we know that Duke Ferdinando added about 20 paintings to Duke
Vincenzo’s setting-up, hung movable paintings representing the family dynasty, and
then continued to add more pictures as he filled the room. The 1626 inventory lists 64
paintings punctuated by 18 sculptures decorating the part adjacent to the frieze and
also records the presence of sovraporta: paintings hung above the doors.
After this gallery, one could enter into another loggia (today lost) called Logieta
verso il giardino del Pavaglione, a small loggia looking towards the pavilion garden. It
was the place of connection between two other public parts of the Palace: on the right,
the science museum, and on the left, the Treasury Chambers (located in the Estivale,
i.e. the place where Duke Ferdinando accommodated foreign visitors and exhibited
collections of precious objects, silverware, crystals, and hard stones).
Next to this public path, there was then a private one, not accessible, which
represented the private apartment of Duke Ferdinando, named the Appartamento del
Paradiso (the apartment of Paradise), of which very little information remains today
on the composition and arrangement of the collections, precisely because of its private
nature. From the 1626 inventory, we also know that Duke Ferdinando kept the most
valuable works for his apartment and that they had been organized according to spe-
cific iconographic themes inside different spaces, such as the Corridor in front of the
Camarino della Grotta (Isabella’s grotto) or the oratory, the dressing room, and the
adjoining room to the library, the studiolo.
The experience that a visitor could experiment within this succession of spaces
is recorded by Joseph Fürttenbach. The German architect describes his experience
at Palazzo Ducale in 1627 (just after the death of Ferdinando Gonzaga) in his work
Newes Itinerarium Italiae,43 dedicated to the buildings he visited during his trip to
Italy. In the pages relating his visit, one can perceive the all-encompassing experience
of the architect who walked in the garden, and then moved on to the rooms of the
Estivale (the place to welcome foreigners), also passing through the studiolo:
[…] a large room, extended and vaulted, supported by two rows of columns,
very gracefully painted and gilded, containing such a collection of all the most
wonderful things ever seen that to describe them adequately it would take a sep-
arate book.
After his visit, Fürttenbach recorded wardrobes full of various artefacts, jewel-
lery, silverware, weapons, and noted the quality of the furniture and the presence of
antiquities and paintings.
From his description, the palace finally appears to be a place suitably dressed to
welcome visitors and accompany them within the iconographic programme of the
18

Gonzaga collection. Within this labyrinth of spaces, each room opened up to another
one; likewise, inside this internal circulatory system, the advancement of the body
through succeeding spaces affected the creation of a meaningful and aesthetic rela-
tionship between bodies and architecture. With neither a real beginning nor an end,
the spatial experience made the palace itself an object of contemplation in which the
visitor was even dived. Here, the idea of the architectural stroll refers to the movement
of the body within a whole composition organized in spatial sequences and points
of view that produce “aspects constantly unexpected and sometimes astonishing.”44
As a series of images succeeding one after another, the relationship between different
structural units, bodily movements, and various external contingencies gives life to the
embodied experience, thanks to which “a peripatetic viewer, whose sense of spatial
form occurs in duration,”45 ends up reading architecture through his/her movement.46
Notes
1 Alessandro Tassoni, “Pensieri,” Pensieri e scritti preparatori, edited by Pietro Puliatti
(Modena: Edizioni Panini, 1986): 888.
2 See the International Symposium Museums as houses: houses as museums, organized by the
Wallace centre (London, 12–13 September 2014).
3 For an in-depth study about the relation between space, mental and body health, and art,
see Frances Gage, Painting as Medicine in Early Modern Period. Giulio Mancini and the
Efficacy of Art (Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2016), above all the
chapter “Walking in the Gallery,” 82-85.
4 Ibid., 84.
5 Vitruvius, Ten Books on Architecture, trans. by Ingrid D. Rowland, book VII (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1999): 5, 2.
6 Luca Basso Peressut, “Spazi e forme dell’esporre tra cabinet e museo pubblico,” Engramma,
no. 126 (April 2015), www.engramma.it/eOS/index.php?id_articolo=2350 (accessed 14
December 2020).
7 Vincenzo Scamozzi, Dell’idea della Architettura Universale [1615] (Sala Bolognese: A. Forni,
1982): 255. Quoted by Marta Ajmar-Wollheim, Flora Dennis (ed.), At Home in Renaissance
Italy (London: V&A, 2006), 12. “Nelle fasciate, e nel di dentro [le case de’ gentilhuomini di
terraferma] tenghino qualche cosa del bello e gratioso… accio da questi segni esteriori: come
dalla faccia dell’huomo si possi comprendere, che sia casa da gentil’huomo.” The literature
on the coincidence between house and owner is vast. See Charles Burroughs, The Italian
Renaissance Palace Façade: Structures of Authority, Surfaces of Sense (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2002); Georgia Clarke, Roman House- Renaissance Palaces: Inventing
Antiquity in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003); Jérémie
Koering, “Un’arte della cosmesi: le facciate dipinte del Palazzo Ducale di Mantova al tempo
di Federico II,” Federico II Gonzaga e le arti, edited by Francesca Mattei (Rome: Bulzoni,
2016): 189–203; Monika Schmitter, “Odoni’s Façade: The House as Portrait in Renaissance
Venice,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 66, no. 3 (2007): 294–315.
8 Between the 15th and 16th centuries, while in Italy creativity was reaching its pinnacle,
Northern Europe (above all Germany and the Netherlands) remained anchored to late
Gothic and subjected to the Lutheran Reform. Although the Italian influence was felt, the
artists used to take Italian cues without any aesthetic and scientific awareness. The result
was a mix of disparate elements, as suggested by Frans Hogenberg’s engraving, Mutinous
troops of the Army of Flanders ransack the Grote Markt during the Sack of Antwerp (1576).
Here, the leaning roof meets Italian stucco and pilasters. Also, in the northern countries, at
least throughout the 15th century, no architectural theory on perspective was drafted. Even
less, the artists of the time were not interested in a faithful representation of space and the
28
82 Pamela Bianchi

surrounding reality. On the contrary, they were more allured by the expressive power of
painting and colour. Being subjected to the political and social climate of the Reform, the
Nordic innovation appeared rather in genre paintings, landscapes, and portraits, to the det-
riment of religious subjects.
9 Patricia Waddy, “Architecture for display,” Display of Art in the Roman Palace, edited by
Gail Feigenbaum (Los Angeles: The Getty Research Institute, 2014): 31–40.
10 The literature of this topic is extensive, and primarily concerns the idea of a performative
gesture. To mention a few, see Barbara Furlotti, “The Performance of Displaying: Gesture,
Behaviour and Art in Early Modern,” Journal of the History of Collections, Vol. 27, no. 1
(Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2014): 1–13; Peter Gillgren and Marten Snickare (eds.),
Performativity and Performance in Baroque Rome (Farnham, Burlington: Ashgate, 2012);
Michael J. Braddick (ed.), “The Politics of Gesture. Historical Perspectives,” Past & Present,
Vol. 203, issue suppl. 4 (2009); Caroline van Eck and Stijn Bussels (eds.), Theatricality in
Early Modern Art and Architecture (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011).
11 Ibid., 40.
12 See Angela Marino, Abitare a Roma nel Seicento. I Chigi in città (Rome: Gangemi
Editore, 2017).
13 Even if, throughout the history of exhibitions, inspiring and suggesting social and political
messages were frequent practices, especially in the 20th century.
14 Paula Findlen, Possessing Nature: Museums, Collecting and Scientific Culture in Early
Modern Italy (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1996): 3.
15 Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunst-und Wunderkammern der Spätrenaissance (Leipzig:
Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1908): 7.
16 William Stenhouse, “Visitors, Display, and Reception in the Antiquity Collections of Late-
Renaissance Rome,” Renaissance Quarterly, Vol. 58, no. 2 (Summer 2005): 397–434 [398].
17 See, for instance, the case of Diomede Carafa, Count of Maddaloni and counsellor to the
King of Naples, who “proudly displayed in the courtyard of his palace in the neighbour-
hood of the Seggio di Nido in Naples the bronze horse’s head that he had received from
Lorenzo de’ Medici in 1471.” See Leah R. Clark, “Collecting, Exchange, and Sociability in
the Renaissance Studiolo,” Journal of the History of Collections, Vol. 25, no. 2 (2013): 171–
184 [173]. Of the same author, see Collecting Art in the Italian Renaissance Court. Objects
and Exchanges (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018).
18 Detailed description of a work of visual art used as a literary device. See Hans Belting,
Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art, trans. by E. Jephcott
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994 [1990]).
19 Traditionally located on the top floor of the building, in one of the last rooms of the building,
the guardaroba (wardrobe) was used to: “store furnishings, textiles, works of art, and more
generally anything not currently displayed in the rooms of the palace.” The guardaroba
was also the man in charge of the wardrobe, who, among other responsibilities, was in
charge of compiling registers or of drawing up the inventory of property. The study of these
registers and their comparative analysis allowed us to get an idea of the position of goods in
connection with the places where they were displayed. See Barbara Furlotti, “Evidence: The
Registers of the Guardaroba,” and Guido Rebecchini, “Evidence: Inventories,” Display of
Art in the Roman Palace, edited by Gail Feigenbaum, op.cit., 25–26, 27–28.
20 See Nikolaus Pevsner, A History of Building Types (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1976): 111–138 and Luca Basso Peressut (ed.), I luoghi del museo. Tipo e forma fra
tradizione e innovazione (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1985): 41–85 [41].
21 Gail Feigenbaum (ed.), Display of Art in the Roman Palace, op.cit., 13.
22 Parati: coordinate suites of textiles, in sets typically of 12 to 40 panels plus columns, friezes,
and trimmings.
23 Mark Girouard, Life in the English Country House: A Social and Architectural History
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978): 100–101.
38

24 As early as 1509–1510, Jacopo Probo d’Atri described to Isabella d’Este the gallery of the
French castle of Gaillon as a: “galaria live logia […] dove per maggior ornamento sono
messe tre statue di marmore.” Letter of Jacopo d’Atri to Isabella d’Este, quoted by Roberto
Weiss, “The Castle of Gaillon in 1503-10,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes,
Vol. XVI (1953): 1–12 [7]‌. However, the term gallery appears for the first time in the Italian
Vocabulario della Crusca, in 1623: “Piniera: Edificio alla francese, forse quello, che eglino
oggi chiamano Gallléria.” The French origin of the gallery has already been studied several
times, see Wolfram Prinz, Die Entstehung der Galerie in Frankreich und Italien, op.cit. In
1691, the term gallery definitively enters the third edition of the Vocabolario della Crusca
as: “Stanza da passeggiare, e dove si tengono pitture, statue, e altre cose di pregio.” In
the third edition, the term museum also appears for the first time, understood as a: “gal-
leria: raccolta di cose insigni per eccellenza, o per rarità.” Vocabolario della Crusca, 3e
edition, 1691, www.lessicografia.it/ricerca_libera.jsp.
25 See the research programme “Vestire I Palazzi” (Vatican Museums, Getty Research Institute,
La Sapienza University, 2014).
26 Mark Girouard, Life in the English Country House: A Social and Architectural History, op.
cit., 11.
27 Gail Feigenbaum, “Displicare: The material of display,” Vestire i palazzi. Stoffe, tessuti e
parati negli arredi e nell’arte del Barocco, edited by Alessandra Rodolfo and Caterina Volpi
(Città del Vaticano: Edizioni Musei Vaticani, 2014): 11.
28 Fernand Braudel, Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme, Vol. I “Les structures du
quotidien” (Paris: A. Colin, 1979): 269.
29 Krzysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux. Paris, Venise: XVIe-XVIIIe siècle,
op.cit., 141. Many of the works involved in these spatial changes were both major and
minor artworks. Pomian highlights how this change is registered above all in Venetian
collecting.
30 Krzysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux. Paris, Venise: XVIe-XVIIIe siècle
(Paris: Gallimard, 1987): 298.
31 The spaces were arranged hierarchically: the upper rooms of the building were often
dedicated to private spaces so that they could be opened in a discretional way, only to spe-
cific visitors. At Palazzo Borghese in Rome, for example, the gallery of statues and paintings
was separated from domestic spaces. Also, the first floor of Palazzo Barberini was dedicated
to the collection while the second floor was to private environments. See Patricia Waddy,
Seventeeth- Century Roman Palaces. Use and Art of the Plan (New York, Cambridge,
London: The Architectural History Foundation/The MIT Press, 1990): 58–60.
32 See the case of Vincenzo Giustiniani, who refused to sell, after his death,“[…] paramenti
of silk or corami or others that will be installed, and attached to the walls of the rooms
of the Palace, so that the palace did not remain naked and bare” (acciò che non resti
spogliato è nudo affatto). Archivio Giustiniani, busta 10, Inventario dell’eredità del Sig.r
Marchese Vincenzo Giustiniani (3 February 1638). See also Serenella Rolfi, “Cortine e
tavolini. L’inventario Giustiniani del 1638 e altre collezioni seicentesche,” Dialoghi di Storia
dell’arte, No. 6 (June 1998): 38–53.
33 Since ancient Rome, the art of walking was considered as a social and philosophical prac-
tice. In particular, wandering throughout the city was seen as an activity of delight, of spir-
itual value, but above all as an almost performative practice aimed at showing the social
rank of the person who was walking. Indeed, although walking was significant, the “with
whom walking” was more so. See Timothy M. O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). Over time, the idea of strolling began to
be linked with architecture and with the capability of certain spatial structures to suggest
aesthetic experiences.
34 Le Corbusier, Modulor (Boulogne-sur-Seine: Éditions de l’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui,
Collection ASCORAL, 1950), 74.
48
84 Pamela Bianchi

5 Ibid.
3
36 L’architecture arabe nous donne un enseignement précieux. Elle s’apprécie à la marche,
avec le pied; c’est en marchant, en se déplaçant que l’on voit se développer les ordonnances
de l’architecture. C’est un principe contraire à l’architecture baroque qui est conçue sur le
papier, autour d’un point fixe théorique. (Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret, Œuvre Complète,
1929–1934, Vol.2, ed. W. Boesiger (Zurich: Les Éditions d’Architecture, 1974), 24)
37 Jérémie Koering, “Un’arte della cosmesi: le facciate dipinte del Palazzo Ducale di Mantova
al tempo di Federico II,” Federico II Gonzaga e le arti, edited by Francesca Mattei (dir.), op.
cit., 189–204. Stefano L’Occaso, “Le facciate dipinte nella Mantova di Andrea Mantegna
(e nel Cinquecento),” Facciate dipinte nella Mantova di Andrea Mantegna, edited by Guido
Bazzotti, Stefano L’Occaso, and Francesca Vischi (Milan: Skira, 2009).
38 This inventory is the last before the sale, and the dismemberment of the collection started
in 1628.
39 In particular, in the list of works, next to each painting, the letters V and F suggest the origin
of acquisitions made by Vincenzo or Ferdinando. By comparing the two inventories, for
instance, in the list of 1614, rooms are named following their pictorial decoration (room
of Fish, Apollo’s room), while in the second one (1626), spaces are named concerning the
typology of items contained, and the topology of the pieces (weapons room adjacent to the
large room).
40 See the letter of 4 December 1628 addressed to Lord Dorchester and entitled: “Marmi
di S.A.S. che sono in piu luoghi della Casa et Favorita,” quoted in Alessandro Luzio, La
Galleria dei Gonzaga venduta all’Inghilterra nel 1627-28 (Milan: L. F. Cogliati, 1913): 149.
41 See Michela Scolaro, “ ‘Il museo dei Gonzaga’: la collezione modello nell’Europa tra
Cinque e Seicento,” in Raffaella Morselli (ed.), Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria. L’esercizio
del collezionismo, exh. cat. Mantova, 2 Sept. –8 Dec. 2002 (Milan: Skira, 2002): 39–49.
42 See Raffaella Morselli, “Il fior delle pitture… dei primi Pittori del Mondo,” in Raffaella
Morselli (ed.), Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria. Le raccolte, exh. cat., Mantova, 2 Sept. –8
Dec. 2002 (Milan: Skira, 2002): 41–87; Federico Rausa, “ ‘Li disegni delle statue et busti
sono rotolate drento le stampe’. L’arredo di sculture antiche delle residenze dei Gonzaga nei
disegni seicenteschi della Royal Library a Windor Castle,” Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria.
L’esercizio del collezionismo, edited by Raffaella Morselli, op.cit., 67–91.
43 Joseph Fürttenbach, Newes Itinerarium Italiae (1627), (Hildesheim: G. Olms, 1971), quoted
by Michela Scolaro, “ ‘Il museo dei Gonzaga’: la collezione modello nell’Europa tra Cinque
e Seicento,” Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria. L’esercizio del collezionismo, edited by Raffaella
Morselli, op.cit.
44 Le Corbusier et Pierre Jeanneret, Œuvre Complète, 1910-1929, Vol.1, ed. W. Boesiger and
O. Stonorow (Zurich: Les Éditions d’Architecture, 1974): 60.
45 John Macarthur, Mathew Aitchison, “Pevsner’s Townscape,” in Nikolaus Pevsner. Visual
Planning and the Picturesque, edited by Mathew Aitchison (Los Angeles: Getty Publications,
2010): 20.
46 These concepts of serial vision and movement progression echo August Choisy’s idea of
picturesque and tableaux. Studying the way the Greeks tried to reach the “optical balance
that reconciles symmetry of outlines with variety and unexpected details,” he describes the
Acropolis as a site to be viewed and appreciated in motion, and a set of objects that visitors
can discover as a series of drawings (tableaux): each picture has a perspective diagram
showing the position of the viewpoint. By analysing the placement of each structure of the
Acropolis, their mutual relations, and the visual trajectory of an ideal visitor roaming the
site, Choisy showed the synergy between the path, leading to the centre of the Acropolis,
the structural logic of the site, its architectural rhythm, and the viewer’s experience. Within
this structure, the picturesque and perspective tableaux play the role of sequential views
(kinds of film shots). Auguste Choisy, Histoire de l’architecture, Vol. 1 (Ivry: Ed. Sera,
1976): 334.
58

References
Marta Ajmar- Wollheim and Flora Dennis (ed.), At Home in Renaissance Italy (London:
V&A, 2006).
Luca Basso Peressut, “Spazi e forme dell’esporre tra cabinet e museo pubblico,” Engramma,
No 126 (April 2015), www.engramma.it/eOS/index.php?id_articolo=2350 (accessed 14
December 2020).
Luca Basso Peressut (ed.), I luoghi del museo. Tipo e forma fra tradizione e innovazione
(Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1985).
Guido Bazzotti, Stefano L’Occaso, and Francesca Vischi (dir.), Facciate dipinte nella Mantova di
Andrea Mantegna (Milan: Skira, 2009).
Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art, trans. by E.
Jephcott (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994 [1990]).
Michael J. Braddick (ed.), “The Politics of Gesture. Historical Perspectives,” Past & Present,
Vol. 203, issue suppl. 4 (2009): 9–35.
Fernand Braudel, Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme, Vol. I “Les structures du
quotidien” (Paris: A. Colin, 1979).
Charles Burroughs, The Italian Renaissance Palace Façade: Structures of Authority, Surfaces of
Sense (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
Auguste Choisy, Histoire de l’architecture, Vol. 1 (Ivry: Ed. Sera, 1976).
Leah R. Clark, “Collecting, exchange, and sociability in the Renaissance studiolo,” Journal of
the History of Collections, Vol. 25, no. 2 (2013): 171–184.
Leah R. Clark, Collecting Art in the Italian Renaissance Court. Objects and Exchanges
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018).
Georgia Clarke, Roman House-Renaissance Palaces: Inventing Antiquity in Fifteenth-Century
Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).
Caroline van Eck and Stijn Bussels (eds.), Theatricality in Early Modern Art and Architecture
(Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011).
Gail Feigenbaum (ed.), Display of Art in the Roman Palace (Los Angeles: The Getty Research
Institute, 2014).
Paula Findlen, Possessing Nature: Museums, Collecting and Scientific Culture in Early Modern
Italy (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1996).
Barbara Furlotti, “The Performance of Displaying: Gesture, Behaviour and Art in Early
Modern,” Journal of the History of Collections, Vol. 27, no. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2014): 1–13.
Frances Gage, Painting as Medicine in Early Modern Period. Giulio Mancini and the Efficacy
of Art (Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2016), above all the chapter
“Walking in the Gallery,” 82–85.
Peter Gillgren and Marten Snickare (eds.), Performativity and Performance in Baroque Rome
(Farnham, Burlington: Ashgate, 2012).
Mark Girouard, Life in the English Country House: A Social and Architectural History (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1978).
Jérémie Koering, “Un’arte della cosmesi: le facciate dipinte del Palazzo Ducale di Mantova
al tempo di Federico II,” Federico II Gonzaga e le arti, edited by Francesca Mattei (dir.)
(Rome: Bulzoni, 2016): 189–203.
Le Corbusier, Modulor (Boulogne-sur-Seine: Éditions de l’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui,
Collection ASCORAL, 1950).
Le Corbusier and Pierre Jeanneret, Œuvre Complète, 1929-1934, edited by W. Boesiger, Vol.1
and 2 (Zurich: Les Éditions d’Architecture, 1974).
Alessandro Luzio, La Galleria dei Gonzaga venduta all’Inghilterra nel 1627-28 (Milan: L.F.
Cogliati, 1913).
Angela Marino, Abitare a Roma nel Seicento. I Chigi in città (Rome: Gangemi Editore, 2017).
68
86 Pamela Bianchi

Raffaella Morselli (ed.), Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria. L’esercizio del collezionismo, exh. cat.
Mantova, 2 Sept. –8 Dec. 2002 (Milan: Skira, 2002).
Raffaella Morselli (ed.), Gonzaga. La Celeste Galleria. Le raccolte, exh. cat., Mantova, 2 Sept. –
8 Dec. 2002 (Milan: Skira, 2002).
Timothy M. O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2011).
Nikolaus Pevsner, A History of Building Types (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976).
Nikolaus Pevsner. Visual Planning and the Picturesque, edited by Mathew Aitchison (Los
Angeles: Getty Publications, 2010).
Krzysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux. Paris, Venise: XVIe- XVIIIe siècle
(Paris: Gallimard, 1987).
Alessandra Rodolfo and Caterina Volpi (ed.), Vestire i palazzi. Stoffe, tessuti e parati negli arredi
e nell’arte del Barocco (Città del Vaticano: Edizioni Musei Vaticani, 2014).
Serenella Rolfi, “Cortine e tavolini. L’inventario Giustiniani del 1638 e altre collezioni
seicentesche,” Dialoghi di Storia dell’arte, no. 6 (June 1998): 38–53.
Vincenzo Scamozzi, Dell’idea della Architettura Universale [1615] (Sala Bolognese: A. Forni,
1982): 255.
Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunst-und Wunderkammern der Spätrenaissance (Leipzig: Klinkhardt
& Biermann, 1908).
Monika Schmitter, “Odoni’s Façade: The House as Portrait in Renaissance Venice,” Journal of
the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 66, no. 3 (2007): 294–315.
William Stenhouse, “Visitors, Display, and Reception in the Antiquity Collections of Late-
Renaissance Rome,” Renaissance Quarterly, Vol. 58, no. 2 (Summer 2005): 397–434.
Alessandro Tassoni, “Pensieri,” Pensieri e scritti preparatori, edited by Pietro Puliatti
(Modena: Edizioni Panini, 1986): 888.
Vitruvius, Ten Books on Architecture, trans. by Ingrid D. Rowland, book VII (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1999): 5, 2.
Patricia Waddy, Seventeenth-Century Roman Palaces. Use and Art of the Plan (New York,
Cambridge, London: The Architectural History Foundation/The MIT Press, 1990).
Roberto Weiss, “The Castle of Gaillon in 1503-10,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld
Institutes, Vol. XVI (1953): 1–12.
78
6
“A Treasure of Riches and Curiosities”
Politics of Display at the Garde-Meuble de la
Couronne, 1680–1789
Barbara Lasic
France’s production of luxury goods in the early modern period was celebrated
throughout Europe. Renowned for their technical skills, French craftsmen were
supplying their elite clientele with pieces that could be both functional and exquis-
itely designed, and which boasted precious materials such as silver and gold, exotic
wood veneers, or expensive hardstones. The French government was concerned with
the entire phenomenon of art, from the organization of production and commercial
circuits, to the establishment of criteria measuring artistic beauty, and the elaboration
of iconographic programmes. In collaboration with his chief minister Jean-Baptiste
Colbert (1619–83), Louis XIV (1638–1715) created a system of manufactures and
workshops dependent on the crown which raised French art and craftsmanship to
a high level of perfection and was an example to the rest of Europe. Instrumental in
the glorification of the king, they were also seen as part of a comprehensive trade and
diplomatic strategy designed to encourage the French to buy native products and sell
them abroad. The French court was a major focus of artistic impetus, and Versailles
became the architectural embodiment of this desired cultural and artistic hegemony.
First and foremost a national palace which materialized the continuity of the state,
it also brilliantly showcased the plethora of products made by royal manufactures.
Destined for the monarch or his entourage, such pieces proudly proclaimed France’s
unrivalled position at the forefront of Europe’s production of luxury goods.
As thoroughly examined by Stéphane Castellucio, the Garde-Meuble de la Couronne,
or royal furnishings depository, was responsible for the management of the furnishings
needed by the royal palaces, including furniture, tapestries, porcelain, mirrors, carpets,
arms and armour, beds, and canopies.1 In addition to those items, the garde-meuble
also contained some paintings, as well as some natural history specimens such as, for
instance, a large bone said to come from the cabinet of curiosity of Gaston d’Orléans
at his château of Blois.2 The main garde-meuble located in Paris was supplemented
by a number of local incarnations affiliated to specific royal residences and located
in their vicinity. Examination of the archives of the garde-meuble, a sub-section of
the Maison du Roi archives held at the Archives Nationales in Paris, indicates that
exchanges between the various repositories operated on a weekly, if not daily, basis
and that a constant flux of objects had to be managed between the various sites.3
The garde-meuble did not just cater for royal apartments –indeed, it could be asked
to provide furnishing to any site for royal use or under royal patronage, such as, for
instance, the royal lodge at the Paris Opera, or the Académie Française which received
40 armchairs on 16 June 1787.4
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-9
8
88 Barbara Lasic

The filiation of the garde-meuble goes back to the Middle Ages and the creation of
the Hôtel du Roy which had a department responsible for overseeing the furnishings of
royal residences. In 1604, as part of the architectural expansions undertaken by King
Henry IV (1553–1610), a specifically dedicated administration in charge of managing
royal furnishings was finally created. The garde-meuble was headed by an intendant,
the Intendant-Contrôleur Général, who had the envied privilege of taking orders from
no one but the King. The attribution of this office demanded a specific set of skills, and
the beneficiary was required to exhibit “a sound knowledge, and a taste formed by
experience to combine with success entire commissions or to judge appropriately the
quality, the taste, the effect, and the price of the works.”5 Essentially responsible for
ordering new furnishings and sometimes complex decorative projects, commissioning
the repairs of existing pieces, and managing the flow of objects across various sites,
this intendant was in turn assisted by a Garde Général, or general warden, and a large
staff deployed across the Paris headquarters and the local depositories of each royal
residences.
The headquarters of the garde-meuble in Paris had a number of magasins for the
storage of objects, boutiques for their conservation and repair, but also stores that
doubled up as display spaces where foreign ambassadors and dignitaries could come
and admire the unrivalled quality of France’s furnishings and objects d’art. Here we
see how the garde-meuble had a dual mission: a practical one aimed at enabling the
furnishing of royal palaces, and a more symbolic one intended to promote France’s
luxury industry, and thereby exalt the power of the monarch. This dual mission
was in fact fully articulated by the garde-meuble’s last pre-revolutionary intendant,
Marc-Antoine Thierry de Ville-d’Avray (1732–1792) who stated in the Observations
Générales sur l’Administration du Garde-meuble de la Couronne that
the garde-meuble possesses considerable riches of all types, they are of two sorts,
and can be considered as tangible riches or riches of opinion. Tangible riches are
connected to furnishings and consist of gold, silver […] precious stones. Riches of
opinion are the objects of representation offered to public curiosity in the galleries
and other adjacent rooms of the garde-meuble.6
The intrinsic and symbolic values of the royal furnishings were, however, not
positioned on an equal footing and Thierry de Ville-d’Avray duly noted that the latter
decreased as objects decayed.7
Owing much to Castellucio’s contribution, the present study therefore aims to
interrogate the existence and management of the garde-meuble within the context of
France’s cultural policies and examine the identity of its exhibition spaces as hybrids
between museal sites and commercial premises. In doing so, it hopes to illuminate the
fluid boundaries that existed between public and private, royal and personal property,
and consider the strategies that underpinned the public display of the products from
the French royal manufactures
From its inception in 1604 to 1758, the garde-meuble was located at the Hôtel du
Petit-Bourbon. In 1758, it moved to the Hôtel de Conti where it stayed for ten years,
before moving to the Hôtel d’Evreux. Its final location from 1774 until its revolu-
tionary demise was built by the royal architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel (1798–1782) on
the Place Louis XV (today’s Place de la Concorde) in what is now known as the Hôtel
de la Marine (Figure 6.1).8
98
“A Treasure of Riches and Curiosities” 89
Figure 6.1 Hôtel de la Marine, Place de la Concorde (formerly Place Louis XV), c. 1920.
From: J. Vacquier, Les vieux hôtels de Paris. Le Ministère de la Marine, ancien garde-
meuble de la couronne (Paris, chez F. Contet: 1922).
The first architectural incarnation of the garde-meuble, the Hôtel du Petit-Bourbon,

was conveniently located in proximity to the Louvre. Confiscated by Francis I (1494–
1547) in 1527 at the death of Charles III, Constable de Bourbon (1490–1527) who
was accused of felony, its functions as furnishings repository started soon after that.
Part of the Hôtel had been demolished in the 1660s to make way for the expansion
of the Cour Carrée, but the building was still big enough to perform its depository
function, as well as provide staff accommodation.9 Plans indicate that the ground floor
and the entresol, namely the raised ground floor, were spaces intended for the storage
and the repair of goods. The entresol was devoted to the storage of tapestries, and an
annotated plan tells us that a room was specifically allocated to the verdures, while
another was intended for the vieilles tapisseries (old tapestries). Widely regarded as
the preeminent expression of princely status, the French crown owned a substantial
collection of tapestries, and, by the end of the reign of Louis XIV, counted no less than
304 sets comprising 2566 individual pieces, arguably the largest collection of tapestries
in early modern Europe.10 Meticulously woven by hand, often with silk, gold, or silver
thread, they repeated the designs of some of the most illustrious artists and were there-
fore amongst the most treasured items in the royal collection. The verdures, a term still
used today, most likely refer to the types of tapestries dominated by green tonalities
usually showing gardens or woodlands. Their presence in the royal collection is hardly
surprising since such items constituted the majority of northern European tapestry pro-
duction in the 16th and 17th centuries. On the other hand, the old tapestries probably
referred to some of the most precious tapestries in the royal collections, namely sets
09
90 Barbara Lasic

that Louis XIV had inherited from Francis I such as the Triumph of Bacchus woven in
Brussels after designs by Raphael (1483–1520) and Giovanni da Udine (1487–1561),
or antique sets that he purchased, of which the Acts of the Apostles produced at
Mortlake after designs by Raphael were among the most highly regarded.11
Returning to the plan of the garde-meuble, the presence of annotations is signifi-
cant and reveals a rationalization and classification of the collections. This is hardly
surprising, and it was evidently implemented in order to facilitate the storage and
retrievals of objects –a much-needed collection management tool, to employ a con-
temporary term, given the moving nature of court life prior to 1682, and the fact that,
even after the permanent installation of the monarchy at Versailles, vagaries of taste
and changes in fashions meant that the furnishings of royal apartments were some-
times updated at a very short notice. The presence of taxonomies at the garde-meuble
is, however, perhaps not just a reflection of a careful and considered administration,
but possibly also indicative of a hierarchy of value ascribed to the tapestries them-
selves, the “old tapestries” being indeed spatially and intellectually circumscribed in
order to mark their elevated status within the royal collections.
The intendant’s apartment was situated in the south east corner of the first floor, the
piano nobile, and the floor also contained further storage facilities for paintings, large
furnishings (grands meubles), and smaller ones (petits meubles).12 A mirror store on
the first floor was in fact also that for vases and bronzes. Stores for the paintings and
the arms and armour were located on the second floor, and, according to Castellucio,
more tapestries were probably displayed there too in the magasin du balcon (bal-
cony store).13 As Nicolas Bailly’s inventory of the King’s pictures reveals, the paintings
stored at the garde-meuble were not the priceless and celebrated Old Masters in the
royal collections: those had been from 1685 under the aegis of the Bâtiments du Roi
and were largely displayed at Versailles. Instead, the paintings listed in the magasins
of the garde-meuble were mostly low-value landscapes and portraits.14
Significantly, the rooms on the first and second floors were open to the public,
although it is important to note that none of these rooms had originally been
conceived with that intention and that they never lost their names as magasins.
Their identity as display spaces was overshadowed by their practical function, indis-
pensable for the economy of the garde-meuble. The layout of the rooms was also
unpractical in that visitors would have had to retrace their steps to progress to other
rooms. It was characterized by the quasi-absence of enfilades, namely a hierarch-
ical sequence of rooms aligned on the same axis usually present in grand domestic
settings. This absence was of course a reflection of the age of the site: after all, the
Hôtel du Petit-Bourbon dated back to the 15th century when architectural planning
had not yet adopted and incorporated the concept of the enfilade. However, this
absence arguably hindered the visual and ceremonial experience of progression: at
the garde-meuble, visitors were taken through a series of rooms, which, by their
positioning, largely existed outside the realm of contemporary domestic architec-
tural codes. Nevertheless, while the architectural fabric of the garde-meuble belied
and contradicted such codes, one wonders to what extent the contents of the stores,
on the contrary, emulated and echoed them. Indeed consideration of the position of
the “old tapestries,” namely the most highly regarded and valued exemplars, at the
very end of the sequence of tapestry stores could be likened to the practice prevalent
in contemporary enfilades that saw the last room of the sequence being the most
precious and richly decorated.
19

So what was on display in the garde-meuble stores at the Petit- Bourbon?
Unfortunately, no archival records of the contents of these rooms survive. However,
in his Description nouvelle de ce qu’il y a de plus remarquable dans la Ville de Paris
of 1697, Brice gives us an indication of the riches to be encountered on-site. He notes
that, while “the façade of this house which contains so many riches has nothing
remarkable,” it is where “we see mainly a vast quantity of rich tapestries, old and new,
the most beautiful ones having been made under Francis I.”15
Brice made a specific mention of the tapestries of the Deeds and Triumphs of Scipio
Africanus after designs by Giulio Romano started on speculation by the Flemish
entrepreneur Marc Crétif and acquired by Francis I around 1535. The 22 hangings
woven in Brussels remained in the French royal collection until the summer of 1797,
at which point they were burnt to recover their precious metals.16 Significantly, in his
account, Brice connects the Scipio tapestries on display to a drawing in the cabinet of
the celebrated collector Everard Jabach (1618–1695), thereby inscribing the garde-
meuble within the urban geography of 17th-century Parisian connoisseurship.
Brice’s account of the garde-meuble reads as a survey of the most important tapes-
tries in the royal collections. He tells us indeed that visitors would have been able to
admire the eight pieces of the Story of Joshua then attributed to Raphael, but in fact
after the designs of Pieter Coeke van Aelst (1502–1550), the Story of Psyche inspired
by Raphael’s frescoes at the Villa Farnesina in Rome, as well as the celebrated Acts
of the Apostles commissioned by Pope Leo X in 1515–1516 for the Sistine Chapel,
and made in Brussels after designs by Raphael.17 Arguably the most influential sets
of tapestry cartoons of the 16th century, Raphael’s designs were copied extensively
over the next three centuries. In 1533, Francis I commissioned the weaving of a set
from Raphael’s cartoons, thereby allowing him to represent the work of the Italian
at the French Court after having been unsuccessful at luring the artist to work for
him on French soil.18 French manufactures were not ignored, however: a Savonnerie
carpet made for the Grande Galerie of the Louvre is mentioned, as well as numerous
Gobelins tapestries after designs by the royal painter Charles Le Brun (1619–1690),
all duly praised for the richness of their materials, although they were not listed by
their titles, thereby perhaps suggesting their lesser importance in comparison with
their 16th-century counterparts.
Brice also considered the objects d’art at the garde-meuble, remarking that the
mounted rock crystals and hardstones were “admirable for their size and the deli-
cacy of their craftsmanship.”19 His account also mentions the outstanding silver
furnishings designed by Le Brun and executed at the Gobelins, all intended for extra-
ordinary embassies or significant royal events. The royal nef in solid gold made by
the goldsmith Jean Gravet in 1669 after designs by Le Brun and a model by Laurent
Magnier is also listed.20 Used by the King first at the Louvre and then at Versailles as
part of elaborate royal dining ceremonials, it embodied royal power, and royal eti-
quette would require courtiers to bow in front of it in the king’s absence.21 Although
nefs were part of quasi-daily rituals and had an “ordinary usage” at court, the great
royal nef was however hardly used and was instead replaced by one of three smaller
and more modest specimens, accounting for its presence at the garde-meuble.22 Arms
and armour, including that of Francis I used at the Battle of Pavia, are also discussed,
as well as rich bed hangings. Brice ends his visual tour by explaining that the rarest
and most precious items were now at Versailles (presumably following the 1682 per-
manent establishment of court there), but that the garde-meuble still contained items
29
92 Barbara Lasic

worthy of being seen and which would satisfy “les curieux more than in any other
place in the world with its riches, and the beauty of the items that it contains.”23
The veracity and rigour of Brice’s account is difficult to ascertain, and his descrip-
tion of the stores of the garde-meuble reads more as a carefully chosen selection of
the greatest pieces forming the French royal collections rather than a true and diligent
account of what the repository actually put on display. In fact, the seven later editions
of Brice’s 1697 report are all expanded versions of it, often mentioning the very same
tapestries and objects d’art, and rightly omitting the silver furnishings following the
mass melting of silver ordered by the crown in order to replenish royal coffers. Brice’s
Description was echoed by other reports such as that published in the Tableau de
Paris pour l’année 1759.24 Far from presenting a chronological panorama of the his-
tory of design and craftsmanship, these accounts focused on the precious 16th-century
tapestries designed by canonical masters, the mounted hardstones and rock crystals,
and the royal arms and armour, thereby offering us a glimpse of the hierarchies of
value prevalent at the garde-meuble. Historical pieces of furniture are notably absent
from these descriptions and reveal the lack of interest in what was considered old-
fashioned and stylistically obsolete items. This is demonstrated by the sales that were
occurring on a regular basis to make room and raise funds for the acquisition and
commission of new, fashionable furnishings. In some instances, these sales consisted of
objects that were damaged or worn out, but in other cases, as with the sales of 1751
and 1752, unimpaired objects, including pieces by André-Charles Boulle (1642–1732)
and Domenico Cucci (c. 1640–1705), were disposed of and sold at low cost.25
No systematic policy for the opening of the garde-meuble to the general public
was in place before the 1780s: no archival records that would indicate the existence
of such policies, or a quasi-regulated system of visitor access at the Petit-Bourbon
or the Hôtels de Conti and d’Evreux, are extant 楆. It is likely that, until the last
decades of the 18th century, visitors were granted entry on a sporadic and intermittent
basis contingent on their rank and importance. The first reference to a regular public
opening of the garde-meuble is found in Luc-Vincent Thiéry’s Guide des amateurs et
des étrangers voyageurs à Paris in 1787 when the repository was located Place Louis
XV in Gabriel’s Hôtel. The author briefly explains that the garde-meuble was open to
the public every Tuesday from nine in the morning, until one in the afternoon, from
the Quasimodo (24 April) to the St Martin (11 November). In addition, Thiéry also
laconically remarks in the almanac section at the start of his guide that the site was
open on 3 July and 4 September.26 The rationale underpinning these opening times
remains obscure, but the lack of chimney pieces in the exhibition rooms may account
for their closure during the colder months of the year.
So who were the visitors invited to admire the riches of the garde-meuble? Thiéry
talks about a generic “public” who will be able to satisfy their curiosity, more of
which later.27 However, prior to the implementation of regular opening times, visitors
would have likely consisted of curieux and connoisseurs, such as the celebrated anti-
quary Claude-Philippe de Tubières, Comte de Caylus (1692–1765) who recalled
being shown “with great politeness” 600 hardstone and rock crystal vases that were
“very well displayed.”28 The garde-meuble would also welcome members of the royal
family like the Grand Dauphin (1661–1711), who, according to the Gazette de Paris,
came on 31 March 1682 to see the “Cabinet des Tableaux du Roy (at the Louvre),
the Garde-meuble” and “les ouvrages de marqueterie du sieur Boulle aux Galeries du
Louvre.”29 Louis XIV’s visit is also recorded by Paul Fréart de Chantelou’s account of
39

Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s stay in France in 1665, and he makes a mention of the King
choosing to go to the garde-meuble instead of seeing the Italian artist.30
But the most important visitors were arguably the foreign dignitaries who were
taken on systematic tours of military arsenals, the royal manufactures, and the royal
depository. Such visits were clearly designed to inspire awe and proclaim France’s cul-
tural, artistic, and aesthetic achievements. Jean Donneau de Vizé gives an extensive
account of the Siamese Embassy’s visit to the Hôtel du Petit-Bourbon in September
1686. Ambassadors were able to admire 60 “very magnificent” bed hangings, with the
author specifying that they were not shown those which were less beautiful.31 They
saw a number of celebrated tapestries including the Acts of the Apostles and the Hunts
of Maximilan, as well as some contemporary weavings made at the Gobelins such as
the History of the King or the Royal Residences. In many respects, Donneau de Vizé’s
account echoes that of Brice, and he notes that the illustrious visitors were shown
Savonnerie carpets for the Grande Galerie and the Salon of Apollo at the Louvre, as
well as numerous pieces of silver (though no silver furnishings as they would have
been on display at Versailles for the occasion of their visit). Unsurprisingly, given their
importance in the early modern period, the emphasis of the visit was on textiles, and
ambassadors were presented with hundreds of pieces of gold and silver brocade made
in the manufacture of St Maur “after new designs and unlike anything seen before
[…] so large that they surpass those made anywhere else in the world, even in the
Levant.”32 As for the curtains made for Versailles on display at the garde-meuble, they
astonished the illustrious visitors to such an extent that the first ambassador allegedly
decided to measure them with his own hands.33 Not all ambassadors were always
that enthusiastic, however. The visit of Suleiman Aga, envoy to the Bey of Tunis, on
5 April 1777, was indeed marked by his general indifference to what was on dis-
play (despite his noted eagerness and impatience to visit the garde-meuble), and the
only items that prompted his interest were the gifts made to Louis XV (1710–1774)
by Sultan Mahmoud I (1696–1754) through his envoy Mehmed Said Efendi (died
1761).34 Returning to the Siamese ambassadors visit of 1686, on equal footing with
the textiles, were the arms and armour, and Donneau de Vizé devotes a large part of
his account to the viewing of the Cabinet d’Armes, where guests were shown both
historical exemplars such as the armour worn by Francis I at the Battle of Pavia,
but also more recent ones sported by the King and his heir the Dauphin, as well as
numerous exotic swords and arms. Such a magnificent and broad ranging display of
arms and armour was undoubtedly intended to remind visitors of France’s military
might and its victories and dominion over foreign territories, a fact that would have
already been stressed by their visit to the arms store of the Bastille where, according
to Donneau de Vizé, they saw enough ammunitions for 30,000 men.35 It would have
also been conveyed by the triumphant martial decorative paintings of the Staircase of
the Ambassadors, the Salon of War, and the Hall of Mirrors. Here, we therefore see
how the visit to the Cabinet d’Armes acted as the three-dimensional complement to
Le Brun’s complex heroic decorative programme.
Far from being an overly ceremonious and dissociated visit, Donneau de Vizé
commented on the interactivity of the tour of the Cabinet d’Armes and noted that the
ambassadors “handled the most unusual pieces, and received explanations for many
things.”36 The location of the visit away from the formal interiors and stiff etiquette
prevalent at Versailles undoubtedly facilitated such engagement between the visitors
and the objects on display. Yet it is also important to note that ambassadors would
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have had further opportunities to enjoy royal furnishings privately as the townhouses
of the non-resident ambassadors were equipped with “the meubles du Roy,” namely
furnishings from the garde-meuble.37 For instance, Wicquefort tells us in his manual
L’Ambassadeur et ses Fonctions that the King ordered for the “Crown’s most beau-
tiful furnishings” to be despatched to the Château of Saint-Germain in order to satisfy
the Cardinal of Florence’s wish to see the château before his return. The garde-meuble
duly obeyed the orders, and his bedroom was furnished with a bed and a tapestry
embroidered by Queen Jeanne de Navarre (1528–72). A diplomatic incident was nar-
rowly averted when it was discovered that the textiles, having been woven by a prot-
estant, contained numerous anti-papist references and they were promptly removed
before the arrival of the distinguished guest.38
Foreign visitors were thus given ample opportunities to study, admire, and engage
with French products, either publicly or privately. Ambassadors and visiting digni-
taries would have in fact also been presented with a number of gifts from the royal
manufactories as part of codified protocolar exchanges determined by their rank.
For instance, while Savonnerie carpets were sent to the King of Siam, the Bishop of
Strasbourg on the other hand only received a hardstone vase.39 As Wicquefort noted,
these gifts were not mere presents, they were effectively “merchandises,” and, as such,
their economic and symbolic worth was carefully appraised in order to redeem pre-
vious gifts, or stimulate forthcoming orders.40 Tours of the garde-meuble would have
in fact also been supplemented by visits to the royal manufactures and arsenals. For
instance, the Siamese embassy of 1686 was received at the Gobelins by its director
Charles Le Brun and taken to see “very costly cabinets … made of precious stones …
with gold figures and miniatures of astonishing beauty.”41 Significantly, at their behest,
ambassadors also saw objects being made: tapestries being woven, and hardstones
being cut.42
The tangible effects of ambassadorial visits to the garde-meuble and the royal
manufactures are of course notoriously difficult to quantify, but they were evidently
designed to whet consumer appetites. Here, the ambassadors’ tactile engagement with
the objects on display discussed earlier is perhaps not dissimilar to that of regular elite
clients shopping for goods. It is well known that the Siamese ambassadors ordered
more than 4000 pieces of French mirrored glass to decorate their royal palaces. This
monumental purchase is likely to be the result of the cumulative effect of admiring the
splendour of Versailles’s Grande Galerie with all its magnificent regalia, observing the
skill and expertise of the workers of the Saint-Gobain manufacture, and perhaps also
seeing the countless mirrors in storage in the magasin des mirrors of the garde-meuble,
a working, non-aestheticized counterpart to the Grande Galerie, yet one which still
very much demonstrated the abundance and plenty of the crown’s resources.
This is not to say that visits to the garde-meuble were simply intended as a show of
abundance aimed at exciting commercial appetites, promoting orders for technically
advanced, innovative, and luxurious objects, and ultimately establishing new foreign
markets. The garde-meuble was an organ of the state that transcended commercial
imperatives, and it fully participated in the creation and sustenance of the monar-
chical apparatus. As such, its intendants, staff, stores, and displays demonstrated the
skilful economy and management of the crown, and its superlative ability to regulate
and distribute its plentiful resources. In other words, its task was “to combine appro-
priately royal splendour and its magnificence, with utility, order, economy, principles
of any wise and well-regulated administration.”43
59

The skilful visual management of the garde-meuble reached its apogee with its
installation in new premises Place Louis XV in 1774. The relocation followed a
structural report by royal architects Ange-Jacques Gabriel and Germain Soufflot
(1713–80) who surveyed the premises of the Petit-Bourbon on 18 March 1757 and
recommended to the Marquis de Marigny (1727–81), then Director of the King’s
Works, the move of the garde-meuble to a different site. They noted in their minutes
that the current buildings were “too perilous to contain a collection as precious as
the furnishings of the crown” and that spending money for repairs would be “a short
and useless palliative solution and that it [was] now important to consider the tem-
porary move of the collections somewhere else until its establishment at the Louvre
as his Majesty decided.”44 Interestingly, Etienne La Font de Saint Yenne (1688–1771),
an ardent critic of the invisibility of the royal collections and a passionate supporter
of the creation of a national museum at the Louvre, condemned the dilapidated state
of the Petit-Bourbon. In his fictional dialogue between the Louvre and the city of
Paris, the royal palace emphatically remarked that “the garde-meuble, a gothic and
costly building, must be destroyed [so as to prevent it] from masking my Peristile.”45
The move to the Louvre was however jeopardized, and Gabriel and Soufflot
explained that it would not be possible before 10 or 12 years as insufficient yearly
funds were currently awarded for such a project.46 Another document reiterated
that view: “when it comes to the Louvre, the cost needed to achieve the buildings
for the garde-meuble would have been significant and protracted which convinced
Monsieur the Contrôleur Général [Ange-Jacques Gabriel] to locate it Place Louis
XV.”47 While the Louvre never became the garde-meuble’s final destination, and, as
we shall see, a building on the Place Louis XV was allocated to it in 1765, its con-
sideration as a potential site is significant and hardly surprising. After all, the palace
already welcomed the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture and its bi-annual
exhibition The Salon, and it was also home to a vibrant community of artists and
craftsmen such as Charles-Antoine Coypel (1694–1752) or Francois Boucher (1703–
1770) who had their lodgings and workshops on-site.48 The move of the garde-
meuble to the Louvre would have been an expedient and centralized solution. It
also anticipated calls for the royal palace to be used as an encyclopaedic repository
of cultural artefacts or a national museum.49 Louis de Jaucourt (1704–1779), one
of the most prolific contributors to Diderot and D’Alembert’s Encyclopédie, wrote
for instance that he would hope to see the Louvre as
the repository of the most beautiful statues of the kingdom […] the king’s paintings
which are currently crammed and mixed together in various garde-meubles where
no-one can see them […] one could also transport there the cabinets of natural
history, and the collections of medals.50
The garde-meuble eventually left the Petit-Bourbon in the winter of 1758 and sought
temporary refuge on the left bank at the Hôtel de Conti. As Castellucio explains, the
new location was no better suited to the storage of the royal collections than its pre-
vious incarnation destroyed shortly after the move in order to continue works on the
eastern colonnade of the Louvre.51 The new location was nevertheless mentioned in
the Tableau de Paris pour l’année 1759 and Hebert’s Dictionnaire Pittoresque of 1766
under the entry “garde-meuble.”52 While the descriptions of the objects it contains
echo previous accounts, most notably that of Brice with its emphasis on old tapestries
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and textiles, they are also prompt to praise contemporary artists and Louis XV’s
patronage, and noted that the king
ordered a number of beautiful tapestries representing subjects from the Old

Testament after designs by Coypel .. the Story of Esther after de Troy, a number
of hunting scenes after Oudry, and several subjects of Don Quichotte after Coypel
the younger.53
Significantly, these two accounts are the first to explicitly articulate the institution’s
proto- curatorial role and its ability to look after and store appropriately its
collections: “the garde-meuble is an assemblage of riches and curiosities, where all is
precious and magnificent, maintained and conserved with the greatest care, and in an
admirable order.”54 These proto-curatorial considerations have to be seen in the con-
text of France’s growing concern for the preservation of its cultural heritage, at a time
of increasing calls for the foundation of a public national museum, and an expanding
middle-class public for art.55 References to a well-appointed and “protective” garde-
meuble were no mere coincidence and counteracted earlier critics like Etienne La
Font de Saint-Yenne who harshly condemned what he perceived as the government
indifference to the fate of the arts, the nation’s patrimony, and the encouragement of
artistic excellence.
The garde-meuble stayed at the Hôtel de Conti until 1768, and then moved briefly
to the Hôtel d’Evreux until its permanent installation Place Louis XV in 1774, two
years after the arrival of its intendant Pierre-Elizabeth de Fontanieu (1730-84).56 The
decision to allocate one of the two buildings on the newly constructed Place Louis XV
to the garde-meuble was taken by the king in January 1765. The idea of the square
itself originated in 1748 as a repository of the equestrian statue of Louis XV by Edmé
Bouchardon (1698–1762). The design of the buildings was to be the product of a
competition and 19 proposals were submitted to that effect. Dissatisfied with all of
them, the king asked the royal architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel to synthetize the entries
into one single design. The resulting proposal borrowed from Le Vau and Perrault’s
Louvre eastern colonnade with its screen of Corinthian columns and restrained carved
ornaments derived from antiquity, but also quoted from Jules Hardouin-Mansart’s
(1648–1708) western façade of Versailles through its rusticated basement and bal-
ustrade hiding the attic floor. Unapologetically neoclassical, the new building was
echoed by a similar structure on the western side of the square. Eschewing central
pavilions, both edifices were envisaged as part of a large urban composition with the
statue of Louis XV as its focal point.57
Gabriel’s building considerably enhanced the capacities of the garde-meuble. Stores
and staff accommodation were significantly expanded with magasins and living
quarters on all floors. Tantalizingly, very little is known about the former’s internal
arrangement: inventories reveal that smaller items were stored in armoires, and a
written note from Thierry de Ville-d’Avray suggests that larger pieces of furniture
were stacked on open display. In the 1787 regulations drawn for the stores warden,
the intendant stipulated indeed that furnishings in storage should be “displayed as
if they were in a Salon, and not on top of the other as they would be in a tapissier’s
shop.”58 While his request was unfavourably received due to “too great a clutter”
in the stores, it is also perhaps indicative of the emphasis on the aesthetic legibility
79

of the garde-meuble’s collections that was prevalent in the last decades of the 18th
century.59
This aesthetic legibility was brought to the fore with the creation of purpose-
built exhibition rooms, and, for the first time of its existence, the garde-meuble
was to have publicly accessible designated display spaces. A number of projects for
the internal layout were proposed, and out of the seven plans extant today, only
the second makes explicit inclusions of “galleries for the garde-meuble,” though the
inclusion of large rooms on the first floors for the other submissions would suggest
that they were probably also intended as such, albeit simply devoid of annotations.60
Those exhibition rooms were positioned on the piano nobile, behind a south-facing
colonnade –a judicious location for the status and visibility of the collections (if
not for their conservation) given that they would benefit from optimal natural light.
The interior architecture of the display galleries followed contemporary fashions
and deployed a neoclassical architectural programme as an appropriate backdrop
to the collections on display. The trajectory to the exhibition rooms was carefully
orchestrated and would have started with the ascent of a monumental staircase, the
escalier d’honneur with a classicizing wrought-iron balustrade, likely set against
austere stone walls –thereby emulating established domestic practices that saw
important guests being led to reception rooms via a ceremonial staircase. The first
room on the visitors’ route was the Salle d’Armes, the cabinet of arms and armour,
the equivalent of the antechamber, this room formed an enfilade with the large
Galerie des Grands Meubles, and the smaller Salle des Bijoux. This layout echoed
Figure 6.2 Plan du Premier Etage du Gardemeuble du Roy à Construire à la Place Louis XV

(annotated by author), Ange-Jacques Gabriel, c. 1768, Archives Nationales (France)
© Archives Nationales (France) CP/VA//58/39.
89
98 Barbara Lasic

that of Versailles’ Grande Galerie and its adjoining rooms, the Salon de la Guerre
and the Salon de la Paix.61 Another long gallery, the Galerie des Antiques, ran behind
this suite of rooms (Figure 6.2).
Hung with blue wallpaper, the Salle d’Armes displayed a plethora of firearms,
as well as royal and foreign arms and armour, including historical pieces such as
Henri II’s, Louis XIII’s, and Louis XIV’s suits, two of Francis I’s swords, or the canons
offered by the King of Siam to Louis XIV in 1686.62 As revealed by the designs of
garde-meuble draughtsman Jean-Démosthène Dugourc (1749–1825), the decoration
became progressively more lavish, in line with distribution principles of domestic
enfilades, and the Galerie des Grands Meubles boasted elaborate carved panelling
with sphynxes in its overdoors reminiscent of those designed by Dugourc for the salon
of the Duchesse de Mazarin Quai Malaquai in Paris in the early 1780s, as well as
those found in the carved and gilded panelling of the Rousseau brothers for the Grand
Cabinet of Marie-Antoinette at Versailles in 1784.63 This Egyptian motif was echoed
by gilded consoles supported by Egyptian terms.64 Large wardrobes with doors carved
with royal insignia contained precious ceremonial textiles and coronation robes; a few
bronzes were positioned on top of them (Figure 6.3).
The gallery also displayed tapestries such as the Hunts of Maximilien, or the more
recent Months woven at the Gobelins in 1696.65 The Salle des Bijoux was arguably the
Figure 6.3 Elevation of the Galerie des Grands Meubles at the Garde-Meuble, Jean-Démosthène
Dugourc, c. 1778, drawing. Musée Carnavalet, Paris, D.6926.
9

climax of the enfilade and contained over 500 mounted hardstone and rock crystals,
silver and goldsmith work, and, as the name suggests, jewels, including the celebrated
Sancy Diamond.66 Pieces were displayed in large armoires and loosely classified by
materials.67 It is in this room that the antiquary Gaspard Michel Le Blond (1738–
1809) recalled seeing a number of sardonyx vases of the highest quality on a visit
with fellow connoisseur Jean-Baptiste Louis Rome de l’Isle (1736–1790), including
a ewer acquired by Louis XIV in 1658, or a cup ornamented with cameos of Henri
IV, Elisabeth I, Mercury, and Apollo.68 The tour of the garde-meuble would have then
ended with the Galerie des Antiques which was added to the exhibitions rooms in the
long corridor behind the Galerie des Grands Meubles by Thierry de Ville d’Avray in
1786 (Figure 6.4).69
Its elaborate neoclassical décor with friezes and niches recalled the imaginary gallery
of the eminent French sculptor François Girardon (1628–1715) designed by Gilles-
Marie Oppenord (1672–1742) at the beginning of the 18th century (Figure 6.5).70
The gallery presented the most expensive pieces from the garde-meuble and
included reduced bronze versions of canonical works like the Venus de Medici or the
Figure 6.4 Elevation of the Galerie des Antiques at the Garde- Démosthène

Meuble, Jean-
Dugourc, c. 1778, drawing. Musée Carnavalet, Paris, D.6927.
01
100 Barbara Lasic
Figure 6.5 Nicolas Chevalier after René Charpentier, La Galerie de Girardon, 18th century,
etching and engraving, 49.95.153.The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949.
Apollo Belvedere, but also more recent French creations such as a pair of fire-dogs
representing Juno and Jupiter designed by Alessandro Algardi (1598–1654) originally
in the collections of the Grand Dauphin.71 The creation of a gallery specifically devoted
to small bronzes is a testament to their popularity within connoisseurial
circles in the few years preceding the French Revolution.72 This appeal was perfectly
conveyed by Jean-Baptiste Greuze’s portrait of the connoisseur and theorist Claude-
Henri Watelet (1718–1786) engaged in the study of a bronze reduction of the Venus
de Medici, and by the preface of the Duc de Tallard’s sale catalogue in which the
expert Pierre Remy noted that “[bronzes] were the most appropriate for the decor-
ation of paintings cabinets” and that “[their] dark colour rests the eye and produces
a pleasant sensation.”73
Considered “one of the richest depots in Europe,” the garde-meuble appropriately
reflected the glory of the French crown.74 While paintings were notably absent from
its displays, the ownership of such treasures was made explicit by the presence of two
imposing full-length paintings of Louis XV and Louis XVI (1754–1793) framing the
ends of the Galerie des Grands Meubles.75 Royal likenesses were not circumscribed
to this gallery and examination of the 1791 inventory reveals their presence in all the
public galleries. The Galerie des Antiques deployed, for instance, a small-scale copy
of the statue of Henri IV made by Pietro Tacca (1577–1640) for the Pont Neuf, and
reduced versions of François Girardon’s equestrian portrait of Louis XIV erected in
the Place Louis-le-Grand in Paris, and Dieudonné-Barthélémy Guibal (1699–1757)
and Paul-Louis Cyfflé’s (1724–1806) portrait of Louis XV originally designed for the
city of Nancy.76 As for the Salle d’Armes, it contained bronze busts of Marie de Medici
(1575–1642) and Louis XIII (1601–1643).77
These exhibition spaces continued the garde-meuble’s tradition of offering a pano-
rama of pieces from the Renaissance to the present day. The visibility of historical
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pieces was highlighted by educationalist Madame de Genlis (1746–
1830) in her
Annales de la Vertu:
we see at the garde-meuble, place Louis XV, the old furnishings and jewels of
our kings, including tapestries from the reign of Francis I, which are still fresh
and very beautiful, and of the greatest magnificence. We also see a superb bed
on which Madame de Maintenon worked, woven with gold and with pearls, and
small figures ornamented with pearls and precious stones.78
The governess of the children of the Orléans branch of the royal family, Stéphanie-
Félicité de Genlis was an esteemed writer respected for her theories on children’s
education who instructed her readers on the aesthetic and moral benefits of artistic
appreciation.79 Noted by Genlis for its pedagogic relevance, and inscribed in her
didactic programme alongside the Louvre bi-annual Salon, and the Luxembourg dis-
play of royal paintings, the garde-meuble can be envisaged as a proto-museum of dec-
orative arts.80 The creation of purpose-built exhibition galleries at the garde-meuble,
combined with the broad chronological range of objects on display, ought indeed
to be considered within the wider context of the opening up of the royal collections
in the last decades of the 18th century. It coincided with the imminent closure of
the ephemeral display of royal paintings, bronzes and mounted hardstones at the
Luxembourg Palace that was to take place in 1779, and, importantly, with the Comte
d’Angiviller’s (1730–1810) ambitious plans to transform the Louvre into a national
museum by reconfiguring the Grande Galerie into a vast exhibition room.81 Far from
being restricted to paintings, it was to encompass all the arts and contain three-
dimensional objects.82 Here, we therefore see how the politics of display at the garde-
meuble fully intersected with, and supported the Crown’s museological initiatives,
both as a preparatory exercise, and an avant-goût to its planned monumental display
of the French royal collections.
Permeable boundaries existed between the public and private displays at the
Hôtel du garde-meuble. Examination of the exhibition galleries on the first floor
reveals indeed that they were framed by the apartments of the intendant and the
warden general. The most illustrious visitors would have therefore been invited by
Pierre-Elisabeth de Fontanieu or his successor Thierry de Ville d’Avray to view fur-
ther glories from the garde-meuble but this time displayed in their own personal
realm and staged appropriately in a domestic setting. The magnificence of the private
apartments was in fact noted by a 1788 Mémoire: “[the apartments] are sumptuously
furnished because [they are] often visited by illustrious foreigners before going to the
garde-meuble. It would be ridiculous to see so much magnificence for no reason.”83
The apartments of the intendant were exquisitely executed in the latest fashions
with the finest materials fully befitting his rank as bona fide minister of taste.84 For
instance, the Salon d’Angle was conceived by royal designer Jacques Gondouin (1737–
1818) and displays a richly refined neoclassical ornamentation executed by leading
craftsmen Nicolas-Quinibert Folio (1706–1776) and François-Joseph Duret (1729–
1816).85 Echoing the precious elegance found in Marie-Antoinette’s appartements, it
mobilizes a repertoire of ornament à l’antique in fashion during the last decades of
the 18th century. Gondouin also created for Fontanieu a ravishing private boudoir
known as the Cabinet des Glaces, covered in its almost entirety with painted mirror
glass enlivened with seductive naked figures and playing putti.86 The richness of the
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102 Barbara Lasic

interiors was matched by that of the furnishings, which, as examined by Carolyn
Sargentson, would have been, in their almost entirety, the property of the Crown,
and commissioned by or taken from the garde-meuble. No cost was spared, and both
Fontanieu and Thierry de Ville-d’Avray enjoyed lavish tastes. The former, known
for his support of the royal furniture maker Jean-Henri Riesener (1734–1806) and,
according to Sargentson, “the most powerful patron of furniture in France,” entrusted
the craftsman with the commission for his furnishings in his new apartment Place
Louis XV.87 A number of pieces were delivered, included a mechanical table known
as the Table des Muses, a fall-front desk, a commode, and a corner cabinet.88 Such
levels of luxury were not restricted to the intendant, and Fontanieu’s garde-général
Pierre Randon de Pommery (1714–87) also patronised the German furniture-maker
ordering, for example, a commode for his wife’s bedroom in 1774.89 Fontanieu made
full use of the riches of the garde-meuble and complemented his new acquisitions
with carefully chosen borrowings from its stores, selecting for instance an armoire
by the baroque cabinetmaker André-Charles Boulle who was then at the height of
fashion in connoisseurial circles.
As Fontanieu’s interiors were still fashionable, they remained largely unchanged by
his successor Thierry de Ville d’Avray. He used his predecessor’s furniture, displaying
the aforementioned Riesener’s fall-front desk and Table des Muses in the Grand
Cabinet, and recycled some older pieces from the royal collection.90 His dining
room displayed a low cabinet by Antoine-Robert Gaudreaus (c.1680–1746) skilfully
updated by Riesener. Known for his drive to introduce an economical spirit at the
garde-meuble, this recycling should not however be read as an attempt to curb its
exponential expenditures: indeed, he promptly commissioned Riesener to execute a
companion piece to the one he had updated.91 Inventories drawn in 1788 and 1791
give us further insight into how the royal collections were mobilized by Thierry de
Ville-d’Avray in his private apartment. Two Gobelins tapestries from the series of the
Histoire du Roi were hung in the Salon, and small bronzes and marbles were deployed
throughout the apartment.92 Although the majority were of low value, he had in his
salon the precious porphyry bust of Minerva known as the Mazarin Alexander for-
merly in the collections of Cardinal Mazarin, acquired for the royal collection by
Colbert in 1665 and transferred to the garde-meuble in 1785.93 Most of the paintings
listed were of modest quality, merely performing a decorative function, yet Sebastien
Bourdon’s Beggars, Henri Antoine de Favanne’s St John Preaching, and a Marine by
Joseph Vernet listed as “one of his most precious” are nevertheless recorded in the
intendant’s apartment.94 Providing an aperçu of elite Parisian taste in the last decades
of the 18th century, Fontanieu and Thierry de Ville-d’Avray’s apartments aptly blurred
the boundaries between personal and royal property.
A hybrid between storage facility, commercial premises, domestic residence,
and proto-museum of decorative arts, the garde-meuble combined functions that
complemented the spectacles offered by royal manufactures and residences, as well
as the ephemeral museum located in the Luxembourg Palace. An integral part of the
cultural apparatus of the State, the garde-meuble effectively anticipated by quite a
number of years the museological project implemented at the Louvre and was a for-
midable tool of aesthetic and political propaganda “[which gave] a high idea, not just
of the superiority of our artists, manufactures, and our nation […] but the magnifi-
cence and greatness of the monarch who govern[ed] [the country].”95
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Notes
1 Stéphane Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la Couronne et ses Indendants du XVIe au
XVIII Siècle (Paris: Editions du CTHS, 2004); Stéphane Castelluccio, Les Collections
Royales d'Objets d'Art: de François Ier à la Révolution (Paris: Editions de l’Amateur,
2002): 191–224.
2 Fernand Engerand and Nicolas Bailly, Inventaire des tableaux du roy: Inventaires des
collections de la couronne (Paris: Leroux, 1899); Histoire de l’Académie royale des sciences
avec les mémoires de mathématique & de physique tirez des registres de cette Académie (1
January 1762): 224. For the transfer of the natural history collections and other items to the
Cabinet du Roi, see Stéphane Castelluccio, “Du Garde-Meuble de la Couronne au Muséum
national d’histoire naturelle,”Versalia. Revue De La Société Des Amis De Versailles, Vol.
20, no. 1 (2017): 97–116.
3 Archives Nationales, Paris (hereafter AN), series O/1/3277 to 3671.
4 Mercure de France (January 1744): 151; Mercure de France (June 1787): 119.
5 Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la Couronne, 57.
6 AN, O/1/3277.
7 AN, O/1/3277.
8 From October 1789, the Hôtel du Garde-Meuble also housed the Ministry of the Navy,
hence the name Hôtel de la Marine as it is still known today.
9 Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la Couronne, 23–24, 68.
10 Charissa Bremer-David, Pascal-François Bertrand, Arnauld Brejon de Lavergnée, and
Jean Vittet, Woven Gold: Tapestries of Louis XIV (Los Angeles: The J.P. Getty Museum,
2015): 5.
11 Bremer-David, Woven Gold, 1.
12 The Dictionnaire de l’Académie Française defines the term meuble as something “qui se peut
transporter.” Le dictionnaire de l’Académie française, 2 (Paris: Bernard Brunet, 1694): 98.
But the dictionary also notes that “il se prend encore dans un sens plus étroit pour signifier
seulement la garniture d’un apartement, d’une chambre, d’un cabinet etc comme tapisserie
d’étoffe, lit etc.” Le dictionnaire de l’Académie française, 98.
14 Engerand and Bailly, Inventaire des tableaux du roy; Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la
Couronne, 68.
15 Germain Brice, Description nouvelle de ce qu’il y a de plus remarquable dans la ville de
Paris. 2e édition augmentée de plusieurs recherches très curieuses (Paris, 1697): 33–35.
16 Guy Delmarcel, “The Scipio tapestries after Giulio Romano and Gian Francesco Penni
in the Academia Belgica in Rome,” “Aux Quatre Vents.” A Festschrift for Bert W. Meijer,
edited by Anton W. Boschloo et al. (Florence: Centro Di, 2002): 199.
17 Brice, Description, 33-5; Bremer-David, Woven Gold, 68; Thomas P. Campbell, Pascal-
François Bertrand, Jeri Bapasola, and Bruce White (eds.), Tapestry in the Baroque: Threads
of Splendor (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2007): 34.
18 Mark Evans, Anna Maria De Strobel, Clare Woodthorpe Browne, Arnold Nesselrath, Mark
Haydu, and Adalbert Roth (eds.), Raphael Cartoons and Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel
(London: V&A Publishing, 2010): 44
19 Brice, Description, 35.
20 Béatrice Sarrazin, Matthieu Lett, Bertrand Rondot, Xavier Beugnot, Marie-Ange Laudet-
Kraft, David Prot, and Cécile Des Cloizeaux, “Le décor du plafond du salon de l’Abondance,”
Versalia. Revue de la Société des Amis de Versailles, no. 19 (2016): 54.
21 The nef was melted in 1797. Béatrix Saule, “Insignes du pouvoir et usages de cour à Versailles
sous Louis XIV,” Bulletin du Centre de Recherche du Château de Versailles (2005) mis en
ligne le 18 juillet 2007, consulté le 27 novembre 2021.
22 Saule, “Insignes du pouvoir.”
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104 Barbara Lasic

23 Brice, Description, 1697, 36. Curieux are defined by the Dictionnaire de l’Académie
française as “those who enjoy collecting rare objects, and have a great knowledge of those
things,” Le dictionnaire de l’Académie française, 1 (Paris, 1695): 182.
24 Tableau de Paris pour l’année 1759, formé d’après les antiquités, l’histoire, la description de
cette ville (Paris: Herissant, 1759): 228–34.
25 AN, O/1/3659-3660.
26 Luc-Vincent Thiéry, Guide des amateurs et des étrangers voyageurs à Paris ou description
raisonnée de cette ville, de sa banlieue, & de tout ce qu’elles contiennent de remarquable
(Paris: Hardouin et Gattey, 1787), XLVII, XLIX, 97. These opening times may have been
expanded at some point before 1789 since the Almanach Parisien also mentions evening
openings from four to six. Jacques René Hebert, Almanach parisien en faveur des étrangers
et des voyageurs (Paris: Duchesne et fils, 1789): 9.
27 Thiéry, Guide des amateurs, 97.
28 Comte de Caylus, “De la Perspective des Anciens,” Mémoires de littérature tirés des registres
de l’Académie royale des inscriptions et belles-lettres, Vol. 39 (1749): 67–68.
29 Gazette de Paris (1682): 214
30 Paul Fréart de Chantelou, Journal du Voyage du Cavalier Bernin en France (Paris: Gazette
des Beaux-Arts, 1885): 194.
31 Jean Donneau de Vizé, Voyage des ambassadeurs de Siam en France (Paris: Au Palais,
1686): 299–300.
32 Donneau de Vizé, Voyage des ambassadeurs de Siam, 306.
33 Ibid., 308.
34 Bibliothèque Nationale de France (hereafter BnF), Journal de l’ambassade de Suleiman Aga,
envoyé extraordinaire du bey de Tunis près Sa Majesté très chrétienne, depuis son arrivée
à Toulon, le 18 janvier 1777, jusqu’à son embarquement dans ledit port, le 31 may de la
même année, rédigé par le sr Ruffin, secrétaire interprète du Roy pour les langues orientales,
et chargé par Sa Majesté de la conduite dudit envoyé, 108–109.
35 Donneau de Vizé, Voyage des ambassadeurs de Siam, 279–280.
37 Abraham van Wicquefort, L’Ambassadeur et ses Fonctions, 1 (Cologne: Pierre Marteau,
1715): 245.
38 Wicquefort, L’Ambassadeur et ses Fonctions, 312–313.
39 Corinne Thepaut- Cabasset, “Présents du Roi,” Visitors to Versailles: from Louis XIV
to the French Revolution, edited by Daniëlle O. Kisluk-Grosheide, and Bertrand Rondo
(New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art): 129.
40 Wicquefort, L’Ambassadeur et ses Fonctions, 551.
42 Ibid., 365–367.
43 AN, O/1/3277, Observations Générales sur l’Administration du Garde- Meuble de la
Couronne.
44 AN, O/1/1592.
45 Etienne la Font de St Yenne, Le génie du Louvre aux Champs Élisées. Dialogue entre le
Louvre, la ville de Paris, l’ombre de Colbert, & Perrault. Avec deux lettres de l’auteur sur le
même sujet (Paris: Michel Lambert, 1756): 37.
46 AN, O/1/1592.
47 AN, O/1/1592.
48 Jules-Joseph Guiffrey, “Logements d’artistes au Louvre,” in Nouvelles Archives de l’Art
Francais (1873): 1–221; Esther Bell, “A Curator at the Louvre: Charles Coypel and the
Royal Collections,” Journal18, Issue 2, Louvre Local (Fall 2016), www.journal18.org/986.
DOI: 10.30610/2.2016.6
49 Andrew McClellan, “Musée du Louvre, Paris: Palace of the People, Art for All,” The First
Modern Museums of Art: The Birth of an Institution in 18th-and Early-19th-Century
Europe, edited by Carole Paul (Los Angeles: Getty Publications, 2012): 237.
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50 Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers, etc., eds. Denis
Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert (University of Chicago: ARTFL Encyclopédie Project)
(Spring 2021 Edition), Robert Morrissey and Glenn Roe (eds), http://encyclopedie.uchic
ago.edu/(Vol. 9, p. 707).
52 Tableau de Paris pour l’année 1759, 228–234; M. Hebert, Dictionnaire Pittoresque et
Historique ou Description d’Architecture, Peinture, Sculpture (Paris: Claude Herissant,
1766): 193–199.
53 Tableau de Paris pour l’année 1759, 230; Hebert, Dictionnaire Pittoresque, 195.
54 Tableau de Paris pour l’année 1759, 234; Hebert, Dictionnaire Pittoresque, 199.
55 McClellan, “Musée du Louvre,” 235–257; James L. Connelly, “The Grand Gallery of
the Louvre and the Museum Project: Architectural Problems,” Journal of the Society of
Architectural Historians, Vol. 31, no. 2 (1972): 120–132.
56 The incarnation of the garde-meuble at the Hôtel d’Evreux is mentioned in François Robert,
Géographie naturelle historique, politique et raisonnée. Tome 1. Suivie d’un traité de la
sphère, avec l’exposition des différens systêmes astronomiques du monde (Paris: Desnos,
1777): 216–217. Robert echoes earlier accounts in the listing of what is on display. Although
the gardens of the Hôtel d’Evreux were open to the public, there are no mentions of the
garde-meuble itself being open; AN O/1/1579 folios 266, 267, 276.
57 Jean-Francois Lasnier, “Visite du Monument,” Connaissance des Arts Hors-Série, L’Hôtel
de la Marine, no. 942 (2021): 18.
58 AN, O/1/3277, Règlement Particulier pour le Garde Magasin, 1787. Article 2.
59 AN, O/1/3277, Règlement Particulier pour le Garde Magasin, 1787. Article 2.
60 AN, O/1/1592: second project.
61 Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la Couronne, 191–192.
62 AN, O/1/3376. Etat des armes du garde-meuble de la couronne telles qu’elles existaient le
12 juillet 1789.
63 Musée Carnavalet, Paris, D.6925.
64 One of the consoles is now at the Château of Fontainebleau (F975C). Stéphane Castellucio
“Le garde-meuble de la couronne 1770-1798’ in L’Hôtel de la Marine (ed.), Alexandre
Gady (Paris: Nicolas Chaudin, 2011): 80.
65 Stéphane Castellucio “Le garde-meuble de la couronne 1770-1798” in L’Hôtel de la Marine,
ed. Alexandre Gady (Paris: Nicolas Chaudin, 2011): 80.
66 AN, O/1/3376.
67 Rock crystal pieces were kept together, and so were the sardonyx objects. Jean-Marie
Bion, Inventaire des diamans de la couronne, perles, pierreries, tableaux, pierres gravées, et
autres monumens des arts & des sciences existans au Garde-Meuble 2 (Paris: Imprimerie
Nationale, 1791).
68 Gaspard Michel Le Blond, “Dissertation sur les Vases Murrhins,” Histoire de l’Académie
royale des inscriptions et belles-lettres, avec les Mémoires de littérature tirés des registres de
cette académie 43 (1786): 226. Louvre, N290; MR129.
69 Stéphane Castellucio “Le garde-meuble de la couronne 1770-1798,” L’Hôtel de la Marine,
edited by Alexandre Gady (Paris: Nicolas Chaudin, 2011): 81.
70 Musée Carnavalet, Paris, D.6927, D.6928. For Girardon’s gallery and collection, see Anne-
Lise Desmas, “The ‘Galerie du S.r Girardon Sculpteur Ordinaire du Roy’,” Sculpture
Collections in Europe and the United States 1500–1930, edited by Malcolm Baker and
Inge Reist (Leiden: Brill, 2021): 157–173.
71 AN, O/1/3376. Inventaire des bronzes du garde-meuble de la couronne fait en Mars 1788
par Messieurs Barbier et Thiebault (version with estimations). See also Jean-Marie Bion,
Inventaire des diamans de la couronne, perles, pierreries, tableaux, pierres gravées, et autres
monumens des arts & des sciences existans au Garde-Meuble 2 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale,
1791): 223–227. The Juno and Jupiter groups after Algardi in the Wallace Collection (S161,
162) have the numbers “297” and “298” inscribed on their bases corresponding to their
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entries in the 1791 inventory. The firedogs were sold after the French Revolution. Jeremy
Warren, The Wallace Collection –Catalogue of Italian Sculpture (London: The Trustees of
the Wallace Collection, 2016) 604-21, cat. no. 129.
72 Colin B. Bailey, “Conventions of the Eighteenth-Century Cabinet de Tableaux: Blondel
d’Azincourt’s La Première Idée de La Curiosité,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 69, no. 3
(1987): 438.
73 Pierre Rémy, Jean-Baptiste Glomy, Catalogue Raisonné Des Tableaux, Sculptures, Tant
De Marbre Que De Bronze, Desseins Et Estampes, Des Plus Grands Maîtres, Porcelaines
Anciennes, Meubles Precieux, Bijoux, Et Autres Effets Qui Composent Le Cabinet De Feu
Monsieur Le Duc De Tallard (Paris: Didot, 1756): 223.
74 Jean-Baptiste Grosier, Journal de littérature, des sciences et des arts /par Mr. l’abbé Grosier;
au profit de la Maison d’institution des jeunes orphelins militaires 4 (1779): 130.
75 The bulk of the royal pictures was still under the aegis of the department of the Bâtiments
du Roi, and none of them are listed as exhibits in the public galleries in the 1791 catalogue.
Some paintings still appear to be stored Place Louis XV and Denis-Pierre-Jean Papillon
de la Ferté noted the presence of three paintings by Simon Vouet (a Crucifixion, Jesus on
the Mount of Olives, and a Figure of Fame holding a Flag). Denis-Pierre-Jean Papillon
de la Ferté, Extrait des différens ouvrages publiés sur la vie des peintres 2 (Paris: Ruault,
1776): 445.
76 Bion, Inventaire, 223–227.
77 Ibid., 232.
78 Stéphanie-Félicité Du Crest, Comtesse de Genlis, Annales de la vertu, ou Cours d’histoire à
l’usage des jeunes personne 3 (Paris: M. Lambert & F.J. Baudoin, 1781): 194–195.
79 Anne L. Schroder, “Going Public against the Academy in 1784: Mme de Genlis Speaks out
on Gender Bias,” Eighteenth-Century Studies, Vol. 32, no. 3 (1999): 376–382.
80 Genlis discusses the Louvre Salon and the Luxembourg display of royal paintings in Les
Veillées du Château (Paris, 1861): 408. Schroder, “Going Public against the Academy in
1784,” 379.
81 Andrew McClellan, “The Musée Du Louvre as Revolutionary Metaphor During the
Terror,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 70, no. 2 (1988): 300–302. Jean-Charles Deloynes mentions
the display of “alabaster and porphyry vases which forms are simple and pleasing” as
well as “marble and bronze antique busts of an appropriate size” at the Luxembourg.
BnF, Jean-Charles Deloynes, Tableaux du Roi Placés dans le Palais du Luxembourg
(1750): 94.
82 McClellan, “Palace of the People,” p. 241.
83 AN, O/1/3277.
84 Alexandre Gady, “ La Distribution Intérieure,” L’Hôtel de la Marine, edited by Alexandre
Gady (Paris: Nicolas Chaudin, 2011): 52– 60. Stéphane Castelluccio, Les Collections
Royales d'Objets d'Art: de François Ier à la Révolution (Paris: Editions de l’Amateur,
2002): 199–224.
85 Guillaume Morel, “Le Salon d’Angle,” Connaissance des Arts Hors-Série, L’Hôtel de la
Marine, no. 942 (2021): 30.
86 Guillaume Morel, “Le Cabinet des Glaces,” Connaissance des Arts Hors-Série, L’Hôtel de
la Marine, no. 942 (2021): 34.
87 Carolyn Sargentson, “Jean-Henri Riesener and the business of furniture-making,” Jean-
Henri Riesener: cabinetmaker to Louis XVI & Marie Antoinette: furniture in the Wallace
Collection, The Royal Collection and Waddesdon Manor, edited by Helen Jacobsen, Rufus
Bird, and Mia Jackson (London: Philip Wilson Publishers, 2020): 29–30.
88 The mechanical table from the Louvre collections is currently on loan to the Hôtel de la
Marine (T510c); the secretaire was acquired by the Centre des Monuments Nationaux in
7
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2020 for the newly-opened Hôtel de la Marine; the commode is at the Château of Chantilly
(OA245); and the corner cabinet (transformed in the 19th century) is at the Victoria and
Albert Museum (1082–1882).
89 The commode was sold at auction at Christies on 30 April 2019. It was acquired by the
Al-Thani collection and gifted to the Hôtel de la Marine. Christie’s (New York, NY), 2019.
Christie, Manson & Woods International Inc., 2019. The Desmarais Collection: a pied-à-
terre in New York, lot 51. The Journal du garde-meuble also records a number of instances
of Riesener delivering furniture to Randon de Pommery’s successor Alexandre Lemoine de
Crecy (1735–1794); AN, O/1/3321-23.
90 AN, O/1/3425; inventory drawn in 1788.
91 Armoire, André- Charles Boulle, c. 1700– 1725. OA5441; Cabinet, Antoine- Robert
Gaudreaus and Jean-Henri Riesener, 1744–1784, Mobilier National D-GMW-16101.
92 AN, O/1/3425
93 “une très-belle tête de Minerve en porphire, avec une partie de l’égide en bronze: haute de
deux pied neuf pouces, estimée douze mille livres,” Bion, Inventaire, 248. Musée du Louvre,
Paris, MR 1633.
94 O/1/3425, Inventaire des tableaux qui sont au gardemeuble de la couronne (1788); see also
Bion, Inventaire, 275–276. Sébastien Bourdon, Mendiants, c. 1645-50, Musée du Louvre,
Paris, INV2820; Joseph Vernet, Marine, le midi, pêcheurs tirant un filet, 1743, Musée du
Louvre, Paris, INV8343; Henri Antoine de Favanne, St John Preaching Paris, 1736, Musée
du Louvre, Paris, INV8135.
95 AN, O/1/1073, folio 204.
References
Colin B. Bailey, “Conventions of the Eighteenth- Century Cabinet de Tableaux: Blondel
d’Azincourt’s La Première Idée de La Curiosité,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 69, no. 3 (1987): 431–
447. https://doi.org/10.2307/3051064
Esther Bell, “A Curator at the Louvre: Charles Coypel and the Royal Collections,” Journal18,
no. 2 (Fall 2016). https://doi.org/10.30610/2.2016.6
Jean-Marie Bion, Inventaire des diamans de la couronne, perles, pierreries, tableaux,
pierres gravées, et autres monumens des arts & des sciences existans au Garde-Meuble
(Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1791).
Charissa Bremer- David, and Pascal- François Bertrand, Arnauld Brejon de Lavergnée,
and Jean Vittet. Woven Gold: Tapestries of Louis XIV (Los Angeles: The J.P. Getty
Museum, 2015).
Germain Brice, Description nouvelle de ce qu’il y a de plus remarquable dans la ville de Paris.
2e édition augmentée de plusieurs recherches très curieuses (Paris: Nicolas Le Gras, 1697).
Thomas P. Campbell, Pascal-François Bertrand, Jeri Bapasola, and Bruce White. Tapestry in the
Baroque: Threads of Splendor (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2007).
Stéphane Castelluccio, Les Collections Royales d'Objets d'Art: de François Ier à la Révolution
(Paris: Editions de l’Amateur, 2002).
Stéphane Castelluccio, Le Garde-Meuble de la Couronne et ses Indendants du XVIe au XVIIIe
Siècle (Paris: Editions du CTHS, 2004).
Stéphane Castelluccio, “Du Garde-Meuble de la Couronne au Muséum national d’histoire
naturelle,” Versalia. Revue De La Société Des Amis De Versailles, Vol. 20, no. 1
(2017): 97–116.
Comte de Caylus, “De la Perspective des Anciens,” Mémoires de littérature tirés des registres de
l’Académie royale des inscriptions et belles-lettres, Vol. 39 (1749): 1–39.
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108 Barbara Lasic

Connaissance des Arts Hors-Série, L’Hôtel de la Marine, no. 942 (2021).
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Problems,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 31, no. 2 (1972): 120–
132. https://doi.org/10.2307/988685.
Anne-Lise Desmas, “The ‘Galerie du S.r Girardon Sculpteur Ordinaire du Roy’,” Sculpture
Collections in Europe and the United States 1500–1930, edited by Malcolm Baker and Inge
Reist (Leiden: Brill, 2021): 157–173.
Jean Donneau de Vizé, Voyage des ambassadeurs de Siam en France (Paris: Au Palais, 1686).
Fernand Engerand and Nicolas Bailly. Inventaire des tableaux du roy: Inventaires des Collections
de la Couronne (Paris: Leroux, 1899).
Mark Evans, Anna Maria De Strobel, Clare Woodthorpe Browne, Arnold Nesselrath, Mark
Haydu, and Adalbert Roth. Raphael Cartoons and Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel
(London: V&A Publishing, 2010).
Etienne La Font de St Yenne, Le génie du Louvre aux Champs Élisées. Dialogue entre le Louvre,
la ville de Paris, l’ombre de Colbert, & Perrault. Avec deux lettres de l’auteur sur le même
sujet (Paris: Michel Lambert 1756).
Paul Fréart de Chantelou, Journal du Voyage du Cavalier Bernin en France (Paris: Gazette des
Beaux-Arts, 1885).
Alexandre Gady, L’Hôtel de la Marine (Paris: Nicolas Chaudin, 2011).
Jules-Joseph Guiffrey, “Logements d’artistes au Louvre,” Nouvelles archives de l’art français,
Vol. 2 (1873): 1–221.
Gaspard Michel Le Blond, “Dissertation sur les Vases Murrhins,” Histoire de l’Académie royale
des inscriptions et belles-lettres, avec les Mémoires de littérature tirés des registres de cette
académie, Vol. 43 (1786): 217–227.
Andrew McClellan, “The Musée Du Louvre as Revolutionary Metaphor During the Terror,”
The Art Bulletin, Vol. 70, no. 2 (1988): 300–313. https://doi.org/10.2307/3051121.
Andrew McClellan, “Musée du Louvre, Paris: Palace of the people, art for all,” The First Modern
Museums of Art: The Birth of an Institution in 18th-and Early-19th-Century Europe, edited
by Carole Paul (Los Angeles: Getty Publications, 2012): 235–257.
Denis-Pierre-Jean Papillon de la Ferté, Extrait des différens ouvrages publiés sur la vie des
peintres (Paris: Ruault, 1776).
Pierre Rémy and Jean-Baptiste Glomy, Catalogue Raisonné Des Tableaux, Sculptures, Tant
De Marbre Que De Bronze, Desseins Et Estampes, Des Plus Grands Maîtres, Porcelaines
Anciennes, Meubles Precieux, Bijoux, Et Autres Effets Qui Composent Le Cabinet De Feu
Monsieur Le Duc De Tallard (Paris: Didot, 1756).
Carolyn Sargentson, “Jean- Henri Riesener and the business of furniture- making,” Jean-
Henri Riesener: cabinetmaker to Louis XVI & Marie Antoinette: furniture in the Wallace
Collection, The Royal Collection and Waddesdon Manor, edited by Helen Jacobsen, Rufus
Bird, and Mia Jackson (London: Philip Wilson Publishers, 2020): 26–33.
Béatrice Sarrazin, Matthieu Lett, Bertrand Rondot, Xavier Beugnot, Marie-Ange Laudet-Kraft,
David Prot, and Cécile Des Cloizeaux, “Le décor du plafond du salon de l’Abondance,”
Versalia. Revue de la Société des Amis de Versailles, no. 19 (2016): 43–70.
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Centre de recherche du château de Versailles (2005). https://doi.org/10.4000/crcv.132
Anne L Schroder, “Going Public Against the Academy in 1784: Mme de Genlis Speaks Out on
Gender Bias,” Eighteenth-Century Studies, Vol. 32, no. 3 (1999): 376–382.
Stéphanie-Félicité Du Crest, Comtesse de Genlis, Annales de la vertu, ou Cours d’histoire à
l’usage des jeunes personne ( Paris: M. Lambert & F.J. Baudoin, 1781).
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the French Revolution, edited by Daniëlle O Kisluk- Grosheide and Bertrand Rondo
(New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2018): 122–131.
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Luc-Vincent Thiéry Guide des amateurs et des étrangers voyageurs à Paris ou description
raisonnée de cette ville, de sa banlieue, & de tout ce qu’elles contiennent de remarquable
(Paris: Hardouin et Gattey, 1787).
Jeremy Warren, The Wallace Collection –Catalogue of Italian Sculpture (London: The Trustees
of the Wallace Collection, 2016).
Abraham Van Wicquefort, L’Ambassadeur et ses Fonctions (Cologne: Pierre Marteau, 1715).
0
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7
The Display of Metalwork in North
European Domestic Spaces in the
Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries
Hila Manor
The history of displaying metalwork in the later Middle Ages and the Early Modern
era is usually connected with ecclesiastic and courtly contexts. As strong bodies of
power, both types of institutions had the means to commission metalwork pieces by
the finest artisans in Europe.1 Yet by the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, these classes
were not the only social groups with the capital and desire to possess metalwork,
which was now attainable for middle-class households, and slowly became an insep-
arable part of them.2 The growing academic interest in domestic spaces produced
some important publications in recent decades dealing with its archaeology, general
lifestyle (regulations, manners, and nutrition), its material culture (mostly daily goods
and commodities), and, more recently, a focus on domestic devotions. These studies
mark the scholarly potential in the intersection of the fields of material culture and
domestic space and will plausibly continue to constitute an engaging topic among
researchers. The subject of precious portable objects and their display and use in
domestic spaces, however, received less attention. This essay endeavours to offer a pri-
mary discussion towards an understanding of the potential of displaying metalwork
in non-aristocratic domestic places.
Displaying and Collecting Metalwork in the Later Middle Ages –

The Starting Point
The primary context in which metalwork was collected and displayed in the later
Middle Ages is the church treasury. Often seen as “collections without collectors” as
they were not the creation of a single person but of an entire institution, church treas-
uries existed already in the ninth century, a time marked in Europe as the “Carolingian
era.”3 Since then, churches began to develop practices of managing groups of objects,
using labels for identification, compiling inventories for recording, and practicing
other habits of acquisition, organization, and exhibition. In addition to metalwork,
medieval treasuries housed many other objects that fall under different categories,
primarily naturalia and mirabilia. These included ostrich eggs, unicorn horns, and
griffin’s claws, and later played a key role in the creation of the category of the “nat-
ural history” museum in the nineteenth century, long before the “cabinets of curi-
osity” of the sixteenth century.4 These objects, which can also be described as “natural
curiosities,” functioned differently from sacred and liturgical vessels. Their presence
in the church probably had different purposes, such as drawing an audience, encour-
aging devotion, and demonstrating divine power manifested through the creation.5
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-10
1
Display of Metalwork in European Houses 111

The treasury was usually referred to in written documents as thesaurus to describe a
group of objects that could be precious or unique.6
According to Pierre Alain Mariaux:
The terminology for our modern concept of collection hardly existed in the
Middle Ages: the term collectio means assembly, or congregation, and, more spe-
cifically, the collection of money in church or some form of feudal dues. A col-
lector is the person who collects taxes or tithes. As a medical term, collection was
used in French at the beginning of the fourteenth century to mean the collection
of some material (e.g., collection of pus) –in this case, it seems certain that a more
general meaning is intended, that of an amassment (collection from the Latin
collectio [colligere], the action of assembling, gathering, or collecting). Collection
in the sense of the gathering or collection of objects does not appear until the
eighteenth century.7
A number of causes instigated the acts of treasury compiling. It was an opportunity to

establish status and prestige, create monetary reserves, and keep safe objects that were
considered sacred.8 But what is important to underline about this type of collection is
that most of the objects have continued to perform in various manners, including in
their initial or “original” function. This point that marks the collection as a dynamic
entity whose members (i.e. the artefacts) kept their functional value and continued
performing for diverse purposes is significant to the topic of this essay.
It could be said that household possessions share much in common with the motives
behind the composition of a treasury. There, too, owners were occupied in issues of
status and how to display it in the most influential manner. In dire straits, they did
not hesitate to use certain objects to ensure their own survival while protecting others
for the additional value they might have. Viewed in this way, objects in both treas-
uries and households seem not to adhere to one of the most accepted definitions of
collections –a group of pieces that no longer perform for a specific function other
than the task of being displayed:
Although they may well have served a definite purpose in their former existence,
museum and collection pieces no longer serve any at all […] the aim every time
seemingly being the same, namely that of bringing objects together in order to
show them to others. Museum and collection pieces may be neither useful nor
decorative.9
The alienation of groups of metalwork objects that were gathered in treasuries and
households of the later Middle Ages from this definition, perhaps marks a certain char-
acteristic of this medium and implies other features that played a part in its display.
But the study of metalwork artefacts from outside the realm of the church poses a
methodological problem –regrettably, the number of precious-metal objects that can
be soundly attributed to domestic spaces is limited. Items of this kind, which belonged
to individuals, were under the constant threat of being melted down due to various
reasons, whether by financial struggle, changing taste, or remarkable events such as
the Reformation that made anything precious and fragile challenging to survive.10
However, a silver lining of the phenomenon of precious metalwork of this period
2
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112 Hila Manor

can be found in its tendency for what might be called a “European globalism,” which
means that artefacts were manufactured by specialists in specific places but were
easily transported to other regions to be used by individuals throughout the continent
and its isles. In this way, two spoons that were manufactured in the Low Countries
in the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries could be consequently found in households in
two edges of Europe, in Scandinavia as well as in England. This crowd of customers
was also not limited to the aristocracy, gentry, and clergy, but instead was shared by
many other groups, such as merchants, craftsmen, political officials, and professional
bureaucrats.11 These possibilities were the outcome of a deep economic and social
process that involved the whole of Europe.
The Black Death that hit the lands of Europe throughout the second half of the
fourteenth century brought a harsh blow to kingdoms, economies, and dynasties. At
the same time, the decades that followed its lethal waves saw a constant improve-
ment in the living standards of Europe’s population.12 The end of the Hundred Years’
War (1337–1453) and the collapse of the feudal system also contributed to a process
from which a new economy had developed, one that was based on money rather
than on land. Innovative farming techniques offered more produce to the markets,
wage labourers gained more independence, occupational specialization became more
common, and many found success in governmental positions.13
Along with the urbanization processes that took place in these regions, greater
numbers of households became wealthy enough to be the owners of valuable material
commodities,14 thus participating in an overall trend of consumerism.15 Material evi-
dence to this shift is the appearance of locks and keys within domestic spaces that
were installed on doors and storage chests, securing their contents,16 examples of
which can be found in collections of late medieval and early modern art around the
world.17 They act as testimonies to transformations that occurred in domestic spaces
and affected their design, substance, objects, and overall conduct.
North European Domestic Spaces in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries

The results of this “era of transition” were felt within domestic spaces. Documents
from the second half of the fourteenth century point at a constant improvement in
the standards of living and comfort of the middle-class, evident primarily in space’s
size and the number of rooms of the house, as well as its contents and style.18 Houses
that were divided into small apartments were reinstalled, made family dwellings more
spacious, and, consequently, established a certain value of domesticity among the
urban middle-class with all the benefits of cultural patronage.19 Houses became filled
with all kinds of material culture, which were not necessarily local produce. People
of all ranks bought artworks “from abroad,” mostly from northern Europe, where
France and the Low Countries became the main suppliers of materials, craftsmen, and
products, such as books, altarpieces, textiles, ceramics, vessels, and armour.20
The domestic spaces of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were quite different
from our modern concept of domesticity, especially in the sense of privacy and in
their ability of spatial and temporal differentiation. While privacy and comfort are
relative terms of which perception changed over time, the “domestic,” as a definition
of space, befits this era better. A house, a domus, was an architectural unit which
“accommodated familiae, or households: parents, children, apprentices and servants
[…] journey-men or day-labourers.”21 It was a space that held numerous activities and
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1

needs: residence (sleeping, feeding, nurturing, etc.), commerce, and training, as well as
social and cultural activities –all performed in a confined space, at different hours of
the day.22 In fact, the dynamics of the late-medieval house might resemble our recent
experience of lockdown under the Covid-19 pandemic. Life was centred on the house;
work took place mostly in the central hall (i.e. living room) or, if one was wealthy
enough, in a designated room. The central hall usually contained a fireplace, as well as
a big table, around which the owners sat and ate on benches or chairs.23 This hall was
connected by passages to additional spaces, different in size, that formed the kitchen,
pantry, buttery, and the residential apartments, that were arranged around a court-
yard.24 In cities, the ground floor area with access to the street had oftentimes served
as a shop.25 The common areas, like the central hall and the parlour, could change
their function according to the time of day, serving for sleeping, studying, playing, and
accommodating additional working staff. Thus, a house was a place of production
and trade, a social locus, where there was a constant stream of activities, creating a
busy hub.26
Among the routine activities that were practiced in domestic spaces, one should
include religious rituals and devotional performances. Some houses even included
a chapel,27 but having a designated room for practicing devotion was not an essen-
tial necessity since these actions could be performed at any given time in almost
every part of the house, with or without the aid of various objects, such as books
of hours, beads, and small figurines.28 What is more important to our topic is that
in contrast to other spaces –and to the ecclesiastic space especially –in which there
existed a strict hierarchy that controlled the choreography of objects and people,
the domestic space could afford a more flexible movement, both physically and
conceptually.
A late medieval or early modern house of the upper bourgeoisie could contain art
in various forms. The grand house of businessman and statesman Jacques Coeur in
Bourges (France), who made his fortune mostly from trade and eventually built a
great fleet that sailed around the Mediterranean, will serve here as an example. This
house, the Hôtel Jacques-Coeur, welcomed its first tenants around the year 145029 and
is a rare find from this period.30 Not only that the structure still stands, but also part
of its decoration is preserved in situ. It is complemented by an inventory list from the
fifteenth century and additional archival sources31 that reveal the use of the different
spaces of the house –from commercial, through ceremonial, devotional, and “pri-
vate.”32 While domestic spaces like the hôtel in Bourges were not the standard among
the bourgeois dwellings in the fifteenth century, it certainly incorporated the many
manifestations of art that could be present in those households and became more
widespread during the sixteenth century.
The display of art begins already when approaching the house from outside. Coming
from the street and facing the east façade that functioned as the main entrance to the
house, one would encounter a group of stone sculptures. Carved into the outer walls,
two figures lean above illusionistically carved balconies and gaze towards the horizon
as though just stepping out of the first floor, welcoming those approaching the house.
These balconies are located above the two passages leading inside, a smaller one to
the south for pedestrians and a larger one to the north, presumably for horsemen
and coaches.33 A decorated tympanum above the pedestrian doorway infers the many
more decorated tympana that fill this house. In some cases, the theme of a tympanum’s
relief could indicate the use of the room to which it led.34 For example, the portal
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114 Hila Manor

leading to the chapel from one of the corridors is decorated with figures of angels,
and its tympanum presents an annunciation scene as well as an image of the trinity.35
Stone carvings also decorated the various fireplaces of the house. Some display
different designs of architecture, others show battle scenes. In the south gallery on the
first floor, one fireplace displays what could look from afar like another tournament
representation accompanied by courtly love scenes. While the tournament is located
on the relief’s upper frieze, its lower part is composed of three gothic arches, each
houses a couple; the one in the centre plays chess, while the other two are shown
taking fruit out of a basket.36 Yet careful spectators will realize this is no ordinary
courtly image. In a closer look, they will discover that the contestants are not knights
but shepherds and swine herders mounted on donkeys and that they fight each other
with broomsticks and use basket-lids as shields.37 Considering the milieu that entered
that house, this image might be interpreted as a tease about aristocratic lifestyle,
located in a specific space to which not all incomers had access. This gallery –and the
area in which this fireplace stands –is considered as a liminal location between private
and communal space.38 The images it displayed, therefore, were not for everyone’s
eyes to see, and it is evident why.
Other than stone carving, the hôtel accommodated additional media of art.
Windows were enclosed with stained glass, sections of walls were decorated with
paintings,39 and others were covered with tapestries.40 From the testimony of Coeur’s
steward, Guillot Trépant, who also described the tapestries, we learn that additional
artworks filled the house, namely, different pieces of metalwork. Trépant mentions
that Coeur possessed objects made of silver and gold: cups (hanaps), bowls (potz),
spoons (cuilliers), and others, which were not mentioned by a specific name. The
plate in Coeur’s possession was probably not much different from objects discovered
in hoards in today France and its area, like the so-called “Rouen Treasure,” that
includes, among other objects, bowls and spoons, which are made of silver and gold,
and decorated by means of several techniques, including translucent enamel.41
How did these objects operate within the domestic space and how were they
displayed? The immediate option is straightforward and functional. They could have
served around the table; cups and bowls for drinking and spoons for eating and sipping.
They could have also been displayed on a designated table or cupboard for showcase
that was situated in the central hall. Many miniatures in illuminated manuscripts, as
well as descriptions of feasts, attest to this custom.42 This display of precious artefacts
could serve several roles, in addition to the basic exhibition of status. The Cely family,
for example, an English family whose members acted as merchants and agents of
wealthy clients from England that were interested in Mainland’s goods, had a trad-
ition of presenting their costly metal vessels each month in order to attract brides for
their yet unmarried sons.43
These objects had the further potential for display and use, however, which relies
on one of their most basic characteristics. In contrast to the media types described
above, such as stone carving and wall painting, the metal objects hold a different
characteristic –they are mobile. While the display of carvings and wall paintings in
the space of the house is static in its nature, metalwork did not only have the ability
to move,44 but this quality was also implemented deep within the functions of the
objects and their initial purpose. Even though the “static” manner of displaying art
became commonplace for how art and artefacts are presented, it certainly was not the
only one. In what follows, I will discuss another manner of display that took place in
5
1

domestic spaces and which is connected tightly to the materiality of the objects and
their functions.
Around the Table

Dining was a central component in medieval and Early Modern culture for both
higher and lower strata of society. Aristocratic, mercantile, and middle-class groups
participated in different forms of feasting, which could differ according to the context
of gathering and had several variations; single households, court members, guilds’ or
fraternity’s associates, and more.45 As such, it possesses the potential of various forms,
each serving different needs, from political and civil to social,46 yet united by the
broader characteristics of a communal event that takes place in a shared space, during
which food is supplied and divided.47 In addition to the opportunity to display power
and wealth, feasts could also create the right setting for peacemaking and diplomatic
conversation, for establishing connections, sealing deals, and marking annual events.48
Dining was not consisted only of sharing foods and drinks; it involved the creation
of a certain atmosphere, with proper objects and decorations.49 Dining, therefore, is
considered a fundamental practice in European social life.50 In these complex settings
that enabled formatting connections and bonds, there performed many objects; some
had key roles, others were somewhat peripheral. Among them, one could point at
several that were not only practically essential but also central to the experience of
dining. Two types of these objects will be discussed here, under the following cat-
egories: knives and spoons.
Dining, its “tools,” and the acts and performance related to it were constantly
evolving and reached a certain culmination during the sixteenth century, forming into
a composite event.51 In this era of change, there dominated two objects that formed
the cutlery of European households, high and low: the spoon and the knife. Table
knives make one of the most widespread cutlery during the later Middle Ages, which
were used individually to cut food and take its pieces into the mouth.52 They were
used by both men and women and were kept in leather sacks attached to the belt.53 As
for their production, specific cities were known as centres for manufacturing knives,
especially in northern Europe.54 The more luxurious knives were the creation of sev-
eral craftsmen –blacksmiths and goldsmiths –the first forged the blades while the
latter made the handles and mounts, which could be made of silver, gold, ivory, coral,
rock crystal, leather, or wood.55
Knives from these centuries could be inscribed with inscriptions of short prayers in
various languages, in Latin as well as in different vernaculars. One knife, unearthed in
Finland and dated to c. 1500, is engraved with an inscription around the cylindrical
shaft connecting the blade to the handle and reads: “Blessed is God in His gifts.”56
This phrase is the litany customarily said at the end of the dinner prayer, mostly in
religious communities.57 The inscription on the shaft highlights the religious aspects
that dining and eating involved during that time; it rests steadily at the corner of the
diners’ eyes throughout the meal and receives their full attention at its end when the
litany is recited.
Other than short prayers, knives presented diners with another form of decoration
that also required active participation in a ritual. There exist at least 16 surviving
examples of knives, of which large blades –almost 30 centimetres in length and about
three and a half in breadth –are notated with musical inscriptions.58 The notations
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cover both sides of the blade and exhibit two separate musical segments: a blessing of
the table (Benediction) on one side and a prayer giving thanks (Grace) on the other,
to be sung before and after the meal, respectively.59 Like modern-day knives, these
objects were designed with their upper side straight (continuing the line of the handle)
and their lower side –the one used for cutting –curved. Their edges are decorated
with foliage ornaments, which at times continues along with the handle, and suggests
a French origin, stylistically.60 The blade itself is long and wide, with the musical
notations at its centre. Above and below the notations are engraved inscriptions;
above and on the left is the indication for the blessing, containing its first two words,
as well as another short one, which denotes what part of the blessing is sung, and in
what voice, located on the right. The further words of the blessing continue below the
musical notations. The specification of voice (ranging between Bassus and Superius)
implies polyphonic singing.61
In order for the music to be viewed correctly, the knife must be held in the left
hand62 and rotated up or down to change between Benediction and Grace. Yet, for
slicing meat properly, it would be used in the right hand.63 It is, therefore, an object
that could participate in multiple rituals –blessing, presenting, slicing, giving thanks –
which were all collective yet required different ways of display and use. What’s more
significant to mention in this regard is that the specification of different voices on the
knives may indicate that there existed a group to which they belonged. According
to Flora Dennis, during the sixteenth century, “domestic objects were increasingly
conceived of in discrete sets,”64 making them what could be interpreted as “domestic
collections.”
Alongside knives, spoons are the best- preserved tableware from late medi-
eval Europe. Although there exist many examples of luxurious spoons, they were
manufactured at different levels of cost and are regarded as a commodity owned by all
ranks –aristocracy, middle-class, and peasants.65 A German burgher who journeyed
to Sweden during the sixteenth century reported that silver spoons are found in every
household, even those of farmers in the countryside, who could possess dozens of
them.66 In his testimony concerning the hôtel’s property, steward Trépant stated that
Coeur owned several silver spoons, yet “he does not know how many.”67 Even though
for most people, spoons were not essential for eating, they appear in texts dedicated
to the proper behaviour around the table that prescribe that one should drink and sip
by using a spoon.68 The spoons preserved in museums often show material evidence
for this use, which is demonstrated by marks of wear on the lower side of the bowl.69
Spoons had numerous types; they could be simple plain silver spoons, or they could
be more expensive by the addition of gold-plating.70 Sometimes, they were inscribed
with short inscriptions of prayers for divine favour. A spoon from the British Museum
in London is preserved with its most likely original travelling leather case. It is made
of gilt-silver and decorated with enamel designed in the shapes of flowers and leaves
that circle the words “ave Maria” (“Hail Mary”) located at the centre of the spoon’s
bowl. The most remarkable feature of this spoon is its ability to split into three parts,
then fit into its leather case.71 The existence of the case reaffirms an important charac-
teristic of spoons in this period; they were considered as highly personal objects and
were carried by their owners in small bags when heading to dine in other houses.72
They, therefore, should be seen as maintaining a close and even intimate relationship
with their owners, both physically and spiritually, making the imagery they present all
the more meaningful.
7
1
Spoon and case, 15th c., the Low Countries. Silver: engraved, gilt, and enamelled.
Figure 7.1
British Museum, London, 1899,1209.3. © The Trustees of the British Museum.
Other spoons could be engraved with devotional images, including representations

of Christ, Mary, and saints. A spoon in the National Museum of Finland shows the
image of Christ surrounded by an inscription in Low German “Drink and eat, and
do not forget God.”73 The different purposes of this object are revealed through the
inscription. The spoon should be used to fulfil the carnal and material needs of its
human owner. Nonetheless, it also bears a bold reminder that even a supposedly
everyday object has a strong devotional potential. This potential is tightly connected to
and rests upon the manner of display of the object; when serving as a utensil, the figure
of Christ enters with its headfirst into the mouth, while, in order to read the inscription
and admire the engraved image, one must hold the spoon in front of himself. This act of
holding the object in alignment with the eyes creates the notion of inner contemplation
and, at the same time, showcases the impressive object with its pious request.
These Early Modern spoons demonstrate well the significance of the element of
mobility. The ability to move around space bestows the objects with the potential of
multiple modes of use and display, a point that might sound trivial, yet it grants these
objects a meaningful versatility that is not usually encountered when discussing art
and its display. One wonders whether the movement of these objects received a spe-
cific place and time during the dining ritual and whether it was orchestrated by cus-
toms and roles or was more freely practiced.
The parallels between “secular” dining and the ceremony of the Eucharist were
noted in several investigations.74 The ecclesiastic communion, as a rite that materializes
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around the wine, the host, their transformation and consumption, has its own qualities
of unification and a sense of community construction. In both dining and communion,
specific objects are used as receptacles for displaying and mobilizing food and drink
that are consequently consumed. These objects could also move around space. The
ecclesiastic monstrance, for example, acted as a showcase vessel for the consecrated
host and was regularly displayed by the priest during Mass, as it was raised high to
the sight of the congregation at the moment of elevation.75 Monstrance vessels were
usually designed as small metal constructions, situated on a foot, that incorporate a
vessel for the preservation and display of the host. These objects were usually made of
silver and gold and attracted the gaze of spectators while carried around the town at
the Feast of Corpus Christi, the annual celebration.76 Yet wherever and whenever this
object was used –during Mass, at the procession, or in the church’s treasury (where
the monstrance could have been restored when not in use) –its essence and meaning
were always the same; it was a container for the body of Christ. For that, it differs
from the spoons and knives and their devout imageries, which could be underscored
or concealed, depending on the manner of display and use and on the context.
The domestic space and its various roles that served as the context allowed for the
different modes of display and use. It is noteworthy that these objects held several
functions that fulfilled various needs. They construct part of the setting of the dining
ceremony, revealing the wealth and status of the hosts and their invitees. They, of
course, operate within the functional framework necessary within the meal –cutting
and delivering liquids from vessels to the diners’ mouths. And furthermore, they main-
tain a very close relationship with the human body,77 and they were not the only ones.
Domestic Objects of Piety

As demonstrated, different everyday objects from around the house were able to
encompass “secondary” devotional meanings. Yet there were other metalwork objects
used in domestic spaces, whose main purpose was to perform in religious rituals; some
were practiced by oneself, others in a group.
Among these objects, the type of devotional plaquettes and polyptychs managed
to survive in relatively large numbers, most likely thanks to its popularity.78 Usually
small in size (not exceeding 10 centimetres in height and width), these objects
resembled a miniature framed image or altarpiece. In inventories from the fifteenth
and sixteenth century, they are often referred to as tableaux.79 They could be simple
or more complex, consisting of one panel or multiple (usually two or three, hinged
wings), which could be opened and closed, revealing and concealing the imageries
on the different parts of the piece. A product of goldsmith’s work, they were some-
times embellished with enamel, ivory, or jewels. They were often attached to chains
or girdles but could also be kept in domestic spaces, such as bedrooms, where they
would rest on a shelf or hang on the wall.80 This function is manifested in the object’s
design, which typically includes a crowning ornament ending with a ring, in which a
nail or a chain could be inserted –Flemish paintings from the period present visual
depictions of this custom.81
Not only that the tableaux resemble altarpieces and shrines in their appearance,
displaying figurative images from the life of Christ, Mary, and saints, but they also
functioned in quite a similar manner, namely, in encouraging devotion. One miniature
triptych in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London hides within its wings the
9
1
Figure 7.2 Pendant Triptych, c. 1460–1500, France (Paris or Tours). Basse-taille enamel on

gold. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, 1947.508.
three-dimensional scene of St. George spiking the Dragon, while the inner sides of the
hinged plaquettes display engraved figures who observe the event with piousness.82
However, in contrast to altarpieces in ecclesiastical space, the tableaux offered their
owners the possibility to meditate on their images at any time, and their experience
was not restricted to the sense of sight alone. Described by Sarah Blick as “interactive
pieces,” the objects’ composed form maintained a quality of suspense, with the viewer
slowly delving into devotional meditation and progressing through the images, from
two-dimensional on the outer parts to three-dimensional in the inner parts.83 This pro-
gression could also have had a physical expression with the dynamics between object
and body, encompassing what might have been a deep experience during which the
object was seen, touched, and possibly eventually kissed.
These cases express the close relations that existed between objects and people and
which could climax at certain moments when several senses of the human body were
involved. Engaging numerous senses, and not just that of sight, was one of the keys
to a successful ritual. And while previous examples in this essay gave much attention
to metalwork of distinct Christian nature, there was another religious group that
shared the same space and appreciation for costly vessels: The Jewish communities.
The overall improvement of lifestyle in Europe did not skip Jewish households. There,
too, new objects began to appear and reshape how artefacts were used and displayed
within the house. Some Jewish households had sufficient means to become consumers
of goldsmiths’ work, a phenomenon reaffirmed by the continuous discovery of Jewish
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hoards of luxury items.84 Adding this group to the discussion concerning metalwork
display in domestic spaces could be proven useful since Jews were in many cases part
of the higher middle-class and could afford exactly the types of objects discussed here,
thus offering additional objects to consider in the frame of the topic.
One of the most interesting objects that performed in the Jewish house during the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries is the spice box. Its primary role was to serve as a
vessel for aromatic herbs that would be smelled during the weekly ritual of Havdalah.
This ancient ritual took place every week, at the end of the Sabbath, and marked the
transition from sacred to secular time. This purpose is also manifested in its name,
which in Hebrew literally means “distinction.” As part of the ceremony, the head of
the family cited biblical verses, blessed the wine, lighted a unique candle, and passed
herbs and spices among the participants who smelled them. It was accompanied by
additional blessings dedicated to the separation of the Sabbath from the six workdays
of the week.85
The spice boxes are designed as architectural silver structures, with the aromatic
herbs stored inside the object. These objects’ forms were well matched with their
function, with a pierced structure set with hinges that allow the opening of certain
parts. In this way, spices could be easily inserted or taken out, and their smell was
distributed through the small gaps in the silver. As a type of ritual of passage that
separated between sacred and secular time, it involves potential risks, which need
to be dealt with precaution.86 The visual design of the spice box as a tower (and in
Figure 7.3 Spice container, c. 1550, repairs and additions 1650/ 51, Frankfurt am Main
(?) Germany. Silver: traced, pierced, cast, and parcel-
gilt. The Jewish Museum,
New York, JM 23-52. Jewish Cultural Reconstruction.
1
2

some cases, a watchtower) could supply certain inner-house protection against the evil
spirits who were thought to be especially active during this liminal time.87 The actions
that were done with the spice box, which include its communal display to eyes of the
attendees on one hand, and the individual holding, sensing, and smelling of it by each
of the participants on the other, demonstrate the capacity of metalwork objects to per-
form on multiple levels in domestic spaces.
Conclusion
The objects surveyed in this essay reveal ways in which metalwork operated and was
displayed in domestic spaces. As a micro-cosmos in which sacral and secular were
constantly intertwined, the domestic space challenges the ways in which art and its
display are understood. Characterized by change, a space in which objects and people
were frequently moving, it offers a range of meanings that could be held by each of the
objects accommodated within, allowing them to fulfil diverse functions. The different
cases presented demonstrate some of the constellations in which metalwork operated,
whether through private and singular actions or by inviting a communal performance.
Nonetheless, what these objects have in common is the potential for an “active” state
of display, in which their functional values stand out.
In contrast to objects in modern collections or cabinets, which seems to have lost
their utilitarian function in order to be displayed in well-defined sites, the metalwork
objects that filled domestic spaces were able to move, and therefore, to provide their
owners with additional meanings. This movement was constructed in part yet was
not dictated from above; it was controlled and monitored by the domestic members,
instigated by the objects and determined, at least to some extent, by their materiality.
As ‘fossil actions’, objects carry within them ‘signals’ that reveal something of past
practices and ways of knowing. The varied ways in which this transformation is
recorded as well as perceived result from equally varied conceptions of what an
‘object’ is; this is as true of the societies in which these objects were created as it
is of those that, after either inheriting or rediscovering such objects, appropriated
and staged them.88
Continuing Cordez’s line of thought, we can think of objects as reminders of other

times that we can never fully comprehend, neither the meanings nor the functions
they used to have. They become “historical objects”89 –that symbolize something else.
To speak about the “collecting of art” in the way this practice is understood today
is problematic for the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries for reasons that involve both
the first word and the last word of the phrase. While the issue of collecting during
these centuries was discussed at the beginning of this essay, that of “art” will be
addressed here curtly. Thinking about “art,” some of these objects may fall between
categories and classifications. They are not “fine art,” not as plain as material culture,
but also not exotic enough to be considered as curiosities.90 The historiographic dis-
tinction between so-called “fine arts” and “decorative arts” (“the art-craft divide”)
does not improve this problem, which received growing criticism, especially in the
past decade.91 That there are inherent differences between media types is obvious,
only that the separate way of approaching them and understanding them should not
be determined by anachronistic constructions. Wall paintings and stone sculptures,
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classic examples of fine arts, are characterized –among other things –by their static
state; they are rarely moved once situated. They could, of course, be admired and
discussed enthusiastically by their viewers, but inherently they remain a type of art
to be looked at and less frequently physically used. When considering metalwork in
domestic spaces, additional modes of display could be revealed. As demonstrated,
metalwork could be looked at from proximity, touched, smelled, and kissed, therefore
engaging in a close relationship to the owner’s body. Shifting between the various pos-
sibilities their potential allowed for, metalwork objects operating in domestic spaces
offer some stimulating case studies to the field of Early Modern display of art.
Notes
1 Krzysztof Pomian, Collectors and Curiosities: Paris and Venice 1500- 1800, trans. by
Elizabeth Wiles-Portier (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 1990): 1–3; Hanns Ulrich Haedeke,
Metalwork (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1970): 111–112.
2 Timothy B. Husband and Jane Hayward (eds.), The Secular Spirit: Life and Art at the End
of the Middle Ages (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1975).
3 Pierre Alain Mariaux, “Collecting (and Display),” A Companion to Medieval
Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, edited by Conrad Rudolph (Malden,
MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2006): 213–232 (at 214).
4 Philippe Cordez, Treasure, Memory, Nature: Church Objects in the Middle Ages (London;
Turnhout: Harvey Miller Publishers, 2020): 212.
5 Mariaux, “Collecting (and Display),” 221; Lorraine Daston and Katharine Park, Wonders
and the Order of Nature, 1150-1750 (New York: Zone Books, 2001): 68.
6 Mariaux, “Collecting (and Display),” 214.
7 Mariaux, “Collecting (and Display),” 214.
8 Pomian, Collectors and Curiosities, 18.
9 Pomian, Collectors and Curiosities, 8.
10 Ronald W. Lightbown, Secular Goldsmiths’ Work in Medieval France: A History (London:
The Society of Antiquaries of London, 1978): v; Anthony Emery, Greater Medieval Houses
of England and Wales, 1300-1500: Volume 3, Southern England (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006): 481.
11 Richard Marks, “An Age of Consumption: Art for England c.1400-1547,” in Gothic: Art
for England 1400-1547, edited by Richard Marks and Paul Williamson (London: Victoria
and Albert Museum, 2003): 12–25 (at 14); Timothy B. Husband and Jane Hayward,
“Introduction,” The Secular Spirit, 11–13.
12 Jim Bolton, “ ‘The World Upside Down’: Plague as an Agent of Economic and Social
Change,” The Black Death in England, edited by Mark Ormrod and Phillip Lindley
(Stamford: P. Watkins, 1996): 17–78; Christopher Dyer, An Age of Transition? Economy
and Society in England in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford; New York: Oxford University
Press, 2005): especially 153–154.
13 Husband and Hayward, “Introduction,” 11.
14 Geoff Egan, The Medieval Household: Daily Living c.1150-1450 (London: Stationery
Office, 1998); Husband and Hayward (eds.), The Secular Spirit.
15 Dyer, An Age of Transition?, Chapter 4.
16 Carl F. Barnes, “The Medieval Household,” The Secular Spirit, 28.
17 For example, in New York, Metropolitan Museum, items 55.61.5, 55.61.8a– d, and
55.61.12.
18 Bolton, “ ‘The World Upside Down’,” 17–78; Dyer, An Age of Transition?, 153–154.
19 Marks, “An Age of Consumption,” 12–25; Emery, Greater Medieval Houses, 470.
20 Marks, “An Age of Consumption,” 15.
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21 Felicity Riddy, “Burgeois’ Domesticity in Late-Medieval England,” Medieval Domesticity:
Home, Housing and Household in Medieval England, edited by Maryanne Kowaleski and
Jeremy Goldberg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008): 14–36 (at 17).
22 Riddy, “Burgeois’ Domesticity,” 36.
23 Jane Grenville, Medieval Housing (London: Leicester University Press, 1997): 89.
24 Grenville, Medieval Housing, 89– 91. For a thorough description of structure and
arrangement of houses of this period, see especially Grenville, Medieval Housing, Chapters 4
and 6; John Schofield, “Urban Housing in England 1400-1600,” The Age of Transition: The
Archaeology of English Culture 1400-1600, edited by David M. Gaimster and Paul Stamper
(Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1997): 127–144; Emery, Greater Medieval Houses, Chapter 8.
25 Barnes, “The Medieval Household,” 15.
26 For the many happening, activities, and conducts that took place in late medieval domestic
spaces, see especially Myriam Carlier and Tim Soens (eds.), The Household in Late Medieval
Cities: Italy and Northwestern Europe Compared (Leuven: Garant, 2001); Jeremy Goldberg,
“Making the House a Home in Later Medieval York,” Journal of Medieval History, Vol. 45,
no. 2 (2019): 162–180.
27 See examples in Nicholas Cooper, Houses of the Gentry 1480–1680 (New Haven: Yale
28 Marco Faini and Alessia Meneghin (eds.), Domestic Devotions in the Early Modern World
(Leiden: Brill, 2019); Evelin Wetter and Frits Scholten (eds.), Prayer Nuts, Private Devotion,
and Early Modern Art Collecting (Riggisberg: Abegg- Stiftung, 2017); and the special
issue of Religions: “Domestic Devotions in Medieval and Early Modern Europe,” 10–11
(2019–2020).
29 Construction of the house began in 1443 and completed in July 1450, as the inscription
in the clock of the chapel’s spire declares. Albert Boardman Kerr, Jacques Coeur, Merchant
Prince of the Middle Ages (New York; London: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1927): 168. The
house was confiscated by the king in 1451 yet restored to the family in 1457.
30 See Jean Favière, L’hôtel de Jacques Coeur à Bourges (Paris: Picard, 1992).
31 Pierre Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII: l’administration, les finances, l’industrie, le
commerce, les lettres et les arts au XVe siècle; étude historique précédée d’une notice sur la
valeur des anciennes monnaies françaises (Paris: Perrin et cie, 1886).
32 Christian de Mérindol, “Le cérémonial et l'espace. L'exemple de l'hôtel Jacques-Coeur à
Bourges,” Zeremoniell und Raum, edited by Werner Paravicini (Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke,
1997): 199–214.
33 Christian de Mérindol, “Nouvelles observations sur l’hôtel Jacques-Coeur à Bourges:
l’hommage au roi,” Bulletin de la Société nationale des antiquaires de France (1989): 189–
210 (at 189).
34 Kerr, Jacques Coeur, 165.
35 Mérindol, “Le cérémonial et l'espace,” 203–204.
36 Christian de Mérindol, “L’hôtel Jacques-Coeur à Bourges: la demeure d’un bourgeois,
homme du roi. Nouvelles lectures,” Bulletin de la Société nationale des antiquaries de
France (1994): 109–127 (at 122).
37 Kerr, Jacques Coeur, 168.
38 Mérindol, “Le cérémonial et l’espace,” 208.
39 Pierre-Gilles Girault, “Le décor ‘total’ des grandes demeures: le palais de Jacques Coeur
à Bourges,” Images de soi dans l’univers domestique: XIIIe-XVIe siècle, edited by Gil
Bartholeyns, Monique Bourin, and Pierre-Olivier Dittmar (Rennes: Presses universitaires
de Rennes, 2018): 63–78.
40 Few chambers still present wall paintings today. According to the testimony of Coeur’s
steward, we learn that many the tapestries could be very expensive and bear the coats
of arms of Coeur and the French king. See Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII, 379
and 382.
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41 Charles Oman, “A Mysterious Hoard of Early French Silver,” Pantheon, Vol. 19, no. 2
(1961): 82–87; Lightbown, Secular Goldsmiths’ Work, 76–78.
42 Christina Normore, A Feast for the Eyes: Art, Performance, and the Late Medieval Banquet
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), especially Chapter 1; Martina Bagnoli (ed.),
A Feast for the Senses: Art and Experience in Medieval Europe (Baltimore: Walters Art
Museum, 2016).
43 Marks, “An Age of Consumption,” 21; Alison Hanham, The Cely Letters, 1472-1488
(London: Published for the Early English Text Society by Oxford University Press, 1975);
idem, The Celys and Their World an English Merchant Family of the Fifteenth Century
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985).
44 Christina Normore marks metalwork objects as featuring the greatest potential of movement
at the late medieval banquet. Normore, A Feast for the Eyes, 36.
45 Stina Fallberg Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints. Tableware in Relation to Late
Medieval Devotional Culture in Sweden,” Konsthistorisk Tidskrift/Journal of Art History,
Vol. 86, no. 3 (July 2017): 219–235, 219; Visa Immonen, Golden Moments: Artifacts of
Precious Metals as Products of Luxury Consumption in Finland c. 1200–1600 (Turku: The
Society for Medieval Archaeology in Finland, 2009): vol I, 205.
46 Normore, “Sensual Wonder at the Medieval Court,” in Feast for the Senses, 75.
47 Immonen, Golden Moments, vol. I, 205.
48 Normore, “Sensual Wonder at the Medieval Court,” 75; Sundmark, “Dining with Christ
and His Saints,” 221.
49 Philippa Glanville, "Introduction," Elegant Eating: Four Hundred Years of Dining in Style,
edited by Philippa Glanville and Hilary Young (London: V&A Publications, 2002): 7–15
(at 12).
50 Timothy J. Tomasik and Juliann M. Vitullo, At the Table: Metaphorical and Material
Cultures of Food in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007).
51 Hugh Willmott, “Tudor Dining: Object and Image at the Table,” Consuming Passions: Dining
from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century, edited by Maureen Carroll, Dawn Hadley, and
Hugh Willmott (Stroud: Tempus, 2015): 121–142.
53 A.P.E. Ruempol and A.G.A. van Dongen, Pre- industriele Gebruiksvoorwerpen 1150-
1800 /Pre-industrial Utensils 1150-1800 (Rotterdam: Museum Boymans-van Beuningen
Rotterdam, 1991): 91.
54 C.T.P. Bailey, Knives and Forks (London: The Medici Society, 1927); Sarah
D. Coffin et al. (eds.), Feeding Desire: Design and the Tools of the Table, 1500-2005
(New York: Assouline, 2006).
55 Haedeke, Metalwork, 130.
56 Originally in Latin: benedictus deus /in donis suis +. Immonen, Golden Moments, vol. II,
cat. No. 16.1, 103.
58 At least ten more existed in the nineteenth century but lost since then. Flora Dennis,
“Scattered Knives and Dismembered Song: Cutlery, Music and the Rituals of Dining,”
Renaissance Studies, Vol. 24, no. 1 (2010): 156–184 (at 157, and Appendix 1).
59 Dennis, “Scattered Knives and Dismembered Song,” 156.
63 According to depictions of similar objects in printed books from the period. See
Bartholomeo Scappi, Opera (Venice: Michele Tramezzino, 1570); Dennis, “Scattered Knives
and Dismembered Song,” 170–171.
65 Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints,” 221.
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66 Samuel Kiechel, “En resa genom Sverige år 1586,” Föreningen Heimdals Folkskrifter, Vol.
44 (1897): 3–33, cited in Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints,” 221, n. 26.
67 In the original French: ne scet combine. In Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII, 379.
68 Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process: Sociogenetic and Psychogenetic Investigations
(Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000): 84, 89.
69 Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints,” 222.
70 See typology of European spoons according to style and time in Immonen, Golden Moments,
I, 222–238.
71 “Silver-gilt and Enamel Spoon,” Masterpieces of Medieval Art, edited by James Robinson
(London: The British Museum Press, 2008): 234–235.
72 Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints,” 222 and Note 24.
73 Original script reads: * DRINCK * UNDE * ETHET * UNDE * GADE * NIEHL *
VORGETET. In Immonen, Golden Moments, vol. II, catalog no.15.11, 86.
74 Immonen, Golden Moments; Victoria Yeoman, “Reformation as Continuity: Objects of
Dining and Devotion in Early Modern England,” West 86th: A Journal of Decorative Arts,
Design History, and Material Culture, Vol. 25, no. 2 (2018): 176–198; Sundmark, “Dining
with Christ and His Saints.”
75 Joseph Braun, Das christliche Altargerät in seinem Sein und in seiner Entwicklung
(München: Max Hueber Verlag, 1932): 348– 407; Frédéric Tixier, La monstrance
eucharistique: genèse, typologie et fonctions d’un objet d’orfèvrerie (XIIIe –XVIe Siècle)
(Rennes: Presses Univ. de Rennes, 2014), especially Part 1.
76 Miri Rubin, Corpus Christi: The Eucharist in Late Medieval Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991), especially 243–271.
78 Inventories from the late Middle Ages list hundreds of them. For their analysis, see Marta
Crispí, “The Use of Devotional Objects in Catalan Homes during the Late Middle Ages,”
Religions, Vol. 11, no. 1 (December 25, 2019): 12.
79 Virginia Brilliant, “Pendant Triptych with the Martyrdom of St. Barbara, Mary Magdalene,
and St. Gereon,” A Feast for the Senses, 194–195.
80 Francesca Geens, “Ungs très petiz tableaux à pignon, qui cloent et ouvrent, esmaillez dehors
et dedens: A Study of Small Scale, Folding, Pieces of Goldsmiths’ Work in Fourteenth
Century Europe” (PhD diss., Courtauld Institute of Art, 2002).
81 For example, in the Annunciation Triptych by Rogier van der Weyden and in the Werl
Altarpiece by Robert Campin/Master of Flémalle, both from c.1440.
82 Ronald W. Lightbown, Medieval European Jewellery (London: Victoria & Albert Museum,
1992), cat. No. 89, 533.
83 Sarah Blick, “Bringing Pilgrimage Home: The Production, Iconography, and Domestic Use
of Late-Medieval Devotional Objects by Ordinary People,” Religions, Vol. 10, no. 6 (June
20, 2019): 392.
84 Such hoards were unearthed in Colmar (1863), Weißenfels (1923), Münster (1951),
Lingenfeld (1969), Salzburg (1978), Środa Śląska (1988), and Erfurt (1876, 1998).
85 Isaac Klein, A Guide to Jewish Religious Practice, 2nd edition (New York: Jewish Theological
Seminary of America; KTAV Publishing House, 1992): 74–75; Zvi A. Yehuda, “The Ritual
and the Concept of Havdalah,” Judaism, Vol. 43, no.1 (1994): 78–86.
86 Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,
1960): 3–4, 184.
87 Abraham Ofir Shemesh, The Fragrance of Paradise: Scents, Perfumes and Incense in Jewish
Tradition (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 2017): 141; Marilyn Gold Koolik, “The
Tower-Shape Tradition in Havdalah Spiceboxes,” Towers of Spice: The Tower Shaped
Tradition in Havdalah Spiceboxes, edited by Chaya Benjamin (Jerusalem: Israel Museum,
1982): 8–55.
88 Cordez, Treasure, Memory, Nature, 209.
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126 Hila Manor

9 Cordez, Treasure, Memory, Nature, 209.
8
90 This point was raised by Dennis in her article cited above regarding the musical knives but
is true in no lesser degree for other metalwork objects from domestic spaces. Calls for the
vital need to adopt an interdisciplinary approach that could include various objects that
are not necessarily classified as “high” or “fine” art are heard more frequently during the
past decade or so and seek the meeting points between the fields Art History and Material
Culture.
91 Michael Yonan, “Toward a Fusion of Art History and Material Culture Studies,” West
86th: A Journal of Decorative Arts, Design History, and Material Culture, Vol. 18, no. 2
(September 2011): 232–248.
References
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and Albert Museum, 2006).
C.T.P. Bailey, Knives and Forks (London: The Medici Society, 1927).
Martina Bagnoli (ed.), A Feast for the Senses: Art and Experience in Medieval Europe
(Baltimore: Walters Art Museum, 2016).
Sarah Blick, “Bringing Pilgrimage Home: The Production, Iconography, and Domestic Use of
Late-Medieval Devotional Objects by Ordinary People,” Religions, Vol. 10, no. 6 (20 June
2019): 392.
Jim Bolton, “‘The World Upside Down’: Plague as an Agent of Economic and Social Change,”
The Black Death in England, edited by Mark Ormrod and Phillip Lindley (Stamford: P.
Watkins, 1996): 17–78.
Joseph Braun, Das christliche Altargerät in seinem Sein und in seiner Entwicklung
(München: Max Hueber Verlag, 1932).
Myriam Carlier and Tim Soens (eds.), The Household in Late Medieval Cities: Italy and
Northwestern Europe Compared (Leuven: Garant, 2001).
Maureen Carroll, Dawn Hadley, and Hugh Willmott (eds.), Consuming Passions: Dining from
Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century (Stroud: Tempus, 2005).
Pierre Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII: l’administration, les finances, l’industrie, le
commerce, les lettres et les arts au XVe siècle; étude historique précédée d’une notice sur la
valeur des anciennes monnaies françaises. Nouv. éd., rev. et cor. (Paris: Perrin et cie, 1886).
Sarah D. Coffin, et al. (eds.), Feeding Desire: Design and the Tools of the Table, 1500-2005
(New York: Assouline, 2006).
Nicholas Cooper, Houses of the Gentry 1480-1680 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999).
Philippe Cordez, Treasure, Memory, Nature: Church Objects in the Middle Ages (London;
Turnhout: Harvey Miller Publishers, an imprint of Brepols Publishers, 2020).
Marta Crispí, “The Use of Devotional Objects in Catalan Homes during the Late Middle Ages,”
Religions, Vol. 11, no. 1 (December 25, 2019): 12.
Lorraine Daston, and Katharine Park. Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150- 1750
(New York: Zone Books, 2001).
Flora Dennis, “Scattered Knives and Dismembered Song: Cutlery, Music and the Rituals of
Dining,” Renaissance Studies, Vol. 24, no. 1 (2010): 156–184.
Christopher Dyer, An Age of Transition? Economy and Society in England in the Later Middle
Ages (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2005).
Geoff Egan, The Medieval Household: Daily Living c.1150- 1450 (London: Stationary
Office, 1998).
Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process: Sociogenetic and Psychogenetic Investigations
(Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000).
Anthony Emery, Greater Medieval Houses of England and Wales, 1300- 1500: Volume 3,
Southern England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006).
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Marco Faini and Alessia Meneghin (eds.), Domestic Devotions in the Early Modern World
(Leiden: Brill, 2019).
Jean Favière, L’hôtel de Jacques Coeur à Bourges (Paris: Picard, 1992).
Francesca Geens, Ungs très petiz tableaux à pignon, qui cloent et ouvrent, esmaillez dehors et
dedens: A Study of Small Scale, Folding, Pieces of Goldsmiths’ Work in Fourteenth Century
Europe (PhD diss., Courtauld Institute of Art, 2002).
Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1960).
Pierre-
Gilles Girault, “Le décor ‘total’ des grandes demeures: le palais de Jacques Coeur
à Bourges,” Images de soi dans l’univers domestique: XIIIe-XVIe siècle, edited by Gil
Bartholeyns, Monique Bourin, and Pierre-Olivier Dittmar (Rennes: Presses universitaires de
Rennes, 2018): 63–78.
Philippa Glanville, “Introduction,” Elegant Eating: Four Hundred Years of Dining in Style,
edited by Philippa Glanville and Hilary Young (London: V&A Publications, 2002): 7–15.
Jeremy Goldberg, “Making the House a Home in Later Medieval York,” Journal of Medieval
History, Vol. 45, no. 2 (2019): 162–180.
Marilyn Gold Koolik, “The Tower- Shape Tradition in Havdalah Spiceboxes,” Towers of
Spice: The Tower Shaped Tradition in Havdalah Spiceboxes, edited by Chaya Benjamin
(Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1982): 8–55.
Jane Grenville, Medieval Housing (London: Leicester University Press, 1997).
Alison Hanham, The Cely Letters, 1472-1488 (London: Published for the Early English Text
Society by Oxford University Press, 1975).
Alison Hanham, The Celys and Their World an English Merchant Family of the Fifteenth
Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985).
Hanns Ulrich Haedeke, Metalwork (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1970).
Timothy B. Husband and Jane Hayward (eds.), The Secular Spirit: Life and Art at the End of
the Middle Ages (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1975).
Visa Immonen, Golden Moments: Artifacts of Precious Metals as Products of Luxury
Consumption in Finland c. 1200-1600. 2 Vols (Turku: The Society for Medieval Archaeology
in Finland, 2009).
Albert Boardman Kerr, Jacques Coeur, Merchant Prince of the Middle Ages (New York;
London: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1927).
Isaac Klein, A Guide to Jewish Religious Practice, 2nd edition (New York: Jewish Theological
Seminary of America; KTAV Publishing House, 1992).
Ronald W. Lightbown, Secular Goldsmiths’ Work in Medieval France: A History (London: The
Society of Antiquaries of London, 1978).
Ronald W. Lightbown, Medieval European Jewellery (London: Victoria & Albert Museum, 1992).
Pierre Alain Mariaux, “Collecting (and Display),” A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque
and Gothic in Northern Europe, edited by Conrad Rudolph (Malden: Blackwell Publishing,
2006): 213–232.
Richard Marks, “An Age of Consumption: Art for England c.1400-1547,” Gothic: Art for
England 1400-1547, edited by Richard Marks and Paul Williamson (London: Victoria and
Albert Museum, 2003): 12–25.
Richard Marks and Paul Williamson (eds.), Gothic: Art for England 1400-1547 (London: Victoria
and Albert Museum, 2003).
Christian de Mérindol, “Nouvelles observations sur l’hôtel Jacques-Coeur à Bourges: l’hommage
au roi,” Bulletin de la Société nationale des antiquaires de France (1989): 189–210.
Christian de Mérindol, “L’hôtel Jacques-Coeur à Bourges: la demeure d’un bourgeois, homme
du roi. Nouvelles lectures,” Bulletin de la Société nationale des antiquaries de France
(1994): 109–127.
Christian de Mérindol, “Le cérémonial et l'espace. L'exemple de l'hôtel Jacques-Coeur à
Bourges,” Zeremoniell und Raum, edited by Werner Paravicini (Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke,
1997): 199–214.
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Christina Normore, A Feast for the Eyes: Art, Performance, and the Late Medieval Banquet
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015).
Charles Oman, “A Mysterious Hoard of Early French Silver,” Pantheon, Vol. 19, no. 2
(1961): 82–87.
Krzysztof Pomian, Collectors and Curiosities: Paris and Venice 1500- 1800. Translated by
Elizabeth Wiles-Portier (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990).
Felicity Riddy, “Burgeois’ Domesticity in Late-Medieval England,” Medieval Domesticity: Home,
Housing and Household in Medieval England, edited by Maryanne Kowaleski and Jeremy
Goldberg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008): 14–36.
James Robinson (ed.), Masterpieces of Medieval Art (London: The British Museum Press, 2008).
Miri Rubin, Corpus Christi: The Eucharist in Late Medieval Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge
A.P.E. Ruempol and A.G.A. van Dongen, Pre-industriele Gebruiksvoorwerpen 1150-1800
/ Pre-industrial Utensils 1150-1800 (Rotterdam: Museum Boymans- van Beuningen
Rotterdam, 1991).
Julius von Schlosser, Art and Curiosity Cabinets of the Late Renaissance: A Contribution to the
History of Collecting. Translated by Jonathan Blower (Los Angeles: Getty publications, 2021).
John Schofield, “Urban Housing in England 1400- 1600,” The Age of Transition: The
Archaeology of English Culture 1400-1600, edited by David M. Gaimster and Paul Stamper
(Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1997): 127–144.
Abraham Ofir Shemesh, The Fragrance of Paradise: Scents, Perfumes and Incense in Jewish
Tradition (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 2017).
Stina Fallberg Sundmark, “Dining with Christ and His Saints. Tableware in Relation to Late
Medieval Devotional Culture in Sweden,” Konsthistorisk Tidskrift/Journal of Art History,
Vol. 86, no. 3 (July, 2017): 219–235.
Frédéric Tixier, La monstrance eucharistique: genèse, typologie et fonctions d’un objet
d’orfèvrerie (XIIIe –XVIe Siècle) (Rennes: Presses Univ. de Rennes, 2014).
Timothy J. Tomasik and Juliann M. Vitullo, At the Table: Metaphorical and Material Cultures
of Food in Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007).
Evelin Wetter and Frits Scholten (eds.), Prayer Nuts, Private Devotion, and Early Modern Art
Collecting (Riggisberg: Abegg-Stiftung, 2017).
Hugh Willmott, “Tudor Dining: Object and Image at the Table,” Consuming Passions: Dining
from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century, edited by Maureen Carroll, Dawn Hadley, and
Hugh Willmott (Stroud: Tempus, 2015): 121–142.
Zvi A. Yehuda, “The Ritual and the Concept of Havdalah,” Judaism, Vol. 43, no.1 (1994): 78–86.
Victoria Yeoman, “Reformation as Continuity: Objects of Dining and Devotion in Early
Modern England,” West 86th: A Journal of Decorative Arts, Design History, and Material
Culture, Vol. 25, no. 2 (2018): 176–198.
Michael Yonan, “Toward a Fusion of Art History and Material Culture Studies,” West 86th: A
Journal of Decorative Arts, Design History, and Material Culture, Vol. 18, no. 2 (September
2011): 232–248.
9
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Part 4
Religious and Political Spaces

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8
Displaying Art in a Sacred Space
The Artworks for the Triunfo of
St. Ferdinand in Seville Cathedral (1671)*
Carmen González-Román and Hilary Macartney
Introduction
This chapter interrogates the role of Seville Cathedral as an exhibition space. It examines
the environmental, material, stylistic, and performative aspects related to the installa-
tion within the Cathedral of one of the most impressive ephemeral monuments of the
Early Modern period in Spain, which combined paintings, sculptures, emblems, and
inscriptions in a multilayered display. Our examination is based on the outstanding
illustrations contained in Torre Farfán’s volume Fiestas de Sevilla and focuses specif-
ically on the two large folding plates analysed here, the larger of which illustrates the
Triumphal Monument, and the other its location and the relationship between the
interior and exterior space of the Cathedral.
The first part of the chapter deals with a theoretical and methodological approach.
Concepts of “expanded scenography” are here taken beyond the regulated spaces
of the theatre, enabling us to better understand and reinterpret ephemeral architec-
ture exhibited in other spatial environments, in this case a sacred one. Our approach
also allows significant factors such as the affectivity and relationality of the objects
on display to be examined within the context of the performative and multisensory
atmosphere created for these celebrations. The second part of the chapter analyses the
content and the materiality of the objects on display, through detailed comparison
of the etchings investigated here with Torre Farfán’s text, alongside contextualiza-
tion based on art historical and technical art historical sources and current research.
We also analyse the relationship between the interior and exterior of the building,
through the dialogue established between the characters, objects, and environments
depicted in the etchings. This multilayered approach, combined with the new meth-
odologies proposed here, can, we believe, significantly enhance our understanding
of the performativity of the Cathedral and the role of the spectator during this truly
extraordinary festival.
Scenography, Performativity, and the Re-signification of Sacred Space

The consideration of Seville Cathedral as an exhibition space during the celebration
of the special festive events recorded in the book on the Fiestas de Sevilla (1671) by
Fernando de la Torre Farfán requires a new perspective of analysis, which is proposed
in this chapter. To explain the new meaning acquired by the sacred space in which the
Triunfo, or Triumph monument installation, which was exhibited in the Cathedral
on that occasion, and its relationship to the spectator, we use here concepts from
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-12
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132 Carmen González-Román and Hilary Macartney

studies on “expanded scenography,”1 a field of research that integrates analyses from
Theatre and Performance Studies and, more recently, from the History of Art and
Visual Culture.2 According to this new approach, scenography is conceived of as
existing beyond the regulated spaces of the theatre and thus, opens up other horizons
that enable us to understand and reinterpret the ephemeral architecture that was fre-
quently exhibited in different spatial environments throughout the Early Modern
period, in this case, in a sacred environment. This approach also covers aspects such
as performativity, affectivity, and the creation of a multisensory atmosphere, as well
as the materiality of the objects on display.
The temporary structures built for celebrations for the Church or the monarchy,
and the materials used to construct them, underwent significant development during
the Renaissance and Baroque periods. In many cases, methods and ideas were tested
that were then adopted and implemented within the design and execution of per-
manent architecture. The ephemeral structures often imitated real ones in more dur-
able materials and were usually decorated with an iconographic programme expressed
through paintings and sculptures, as well as emblems. As in other projects of a sceno-
graphic nature, many painters and sculptors would assist in executing the decorative
programme, designed by the artist in charge of the work, who was generally a more
experienced and prestigious master.
The erection of ephemeral structures (including catafalques, Holy Week monuments,
etc.) inside churches and cathedrals has a long tradition in Spain. Renowned artists
such as Francisco Pacheco are known to have directly executed the paintings on
ephemeral monuments. In his treatise Arte de la pintura (1649), Pacheco himself
referred to the narrative scenes, hieroglyphs or emblems, and figures imitating bronze
statues that he painted over a period of 50 days on the tomb dedicated to Philip II in
Seville Cathedral in 1598.3 Also significant is the fact that particular sites within the
Cathedral space became associated with temporary celebrations. Thus, the site occu-
pied by the Triumph monument for the festivities examined here was the same as the
one in which the Holy Week monument was erected annually in the Cathedral until
the 1950s.4
Engravings in festival books have long attracted the interest of art historians, par-
ticularly within iconographic studies, a methodological perspective which focuses
mainly on the symbolic value of images. Recently, however, what has been termed
the “performative” dimension of engravings found in those books –for example, of
ballets, parades, processions, and ceremonies –has come to the fore as a key research
topic.5 On the other hand, the whole multisensory encounter, particularly with regard
to a temporary monument installation in a sacred space, and its capacity to persuade
or convince through the all-encompassing atmosphere of its diverse orientations, can
be considered scenographic in formation and effect.6 This holistic approach to such
printed illustrations, which also enables research from a scenographic perspective,
facilitates a better understanding of architecture and ephemeral artefacts. At the same
time, as we aim to demonstrate here, it enables an approach to the multisensory nature
of sacred spaces interpreted as exhibition space.
The Triunfo in a Multisensory Exhibition

To date, however, the historiography on this type of ephemeral apparatus has tended
to ignore what Joslin McKinney and Scott Palmer define as: “the agentic capacity of
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Displaying Art in a Sacred Space 133

materials”7 and, likewise, the agentic capacity of structures as performance. Nor has
it paid attention to the relationship between the ephemeral structure, the space in
which it is placed, and the participatory role of the spectators. In this respect, Rachel
Hann affirms that “these material practices sustain interventional place orientation
and, consequently, are scenographic in conception and execution.”8
This new interpretative dimension of the scenographic and performative nature of
ephemeral architecture also allows us to turn our attention to a different focus. We
consider that the installation of the Triumph and its location inside Seville Cathedral
effectively transformed the temple into an exhibition space. Prior to the appearance
of the public Salons held in Paris, the possibility of a collection of works of art being
exhibited ex profeso in a specific place and contemplated by broad sectors of society
was limited.
The urban environment, including streets, squares, and marketplaces, and the
façades of public buildings, townhouses, and palaces, as well as the interiors of
churches and cathedrals were privileged exhibition spaces which, on the occasion of
certain events, acquired an extra-quotidian function.9 The exhibition function of these
spaces and the form of sociability and interaction they encouraged influenced the
spectators, generating a multisensory experience. This experience was brought about
not only by the works themselves, the physical space, or the type of structure in which
they were displayed, but also by the conditions of perception and attitude in which
the visit took place. The spectators as a “sensory body” found themselves in constant
negotiation with all kinds of stimuli, and not only aesthetic ones, such as the number
of visitors, the sounds, the enveloping heat or humidity, the smells, etc.10
The atmosphere generated in the space where the Triumph was exhibited in
Seville Cathedral makes it possible to speak of the concept of a “sensory exhib-
ition,” according to which, moreover, the public constituted an active element that
participated in the “unveiling” of the artistic event.11 The exhibition space is thereby
imbued with a performative quality, and its visitors are understood as a moving, per-
ceiving body.12
Performing Exhibition Display?

Here, we can pose the following question: in what way can the etchings in Torre
Farfán’s book provide a record, both of a scenographic structure inside a public (sacred)
exhibition space –a device that facilitated the display of a series of related artworks
on and within the installation –and, at the same time, reflect the performativity of this
interior, multisensory space, and its relationship with the exterior space? Here, it is
argued that the capacity of illustrations such as these to convey Early Modern visual
and performative cultures has so far remained obscure or under-theorized. However,
recent developments within scenography and performance studies have, we suggest,
opened up new possibilities for understanding and theorizing the performative dimen-
sion of engravings in festival books, notably those in the one examined here and, con-
sequently, the sensory dimension of the architecture and the exhibition display. From
these perspectives, this chapter contributes to developing a new approach, within
which these kinds of prints, which have previously been considered as black-and-white
illustrations of silent and immobile events, are now analysed in their true, performa-
tive dimension. That is, as a representation of events in which temporal succession of
events, spatial juxtaposition, and multisensorial reality coexist.13
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Figure 8.1 Juan de Valdés Leal, The Triumph (“El Triunfo”), etching, 1671, in Fernando de la
Torre Farfán, Fiestas de la S. Iglesia Metropolitana y Patriarcal de Sevilla al nuevo
Culto del Señor Rey S. Fernando el Tercero … (Seville: Viuda de Nicolás Rodríguez,
1671 [1672]), opp. p.122. Courtesy of University of Glasgow Library, Archives &
Special Collections, S.M. 1701.
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The so-called Triumph installed for the celebrations for the canonization of King
Ferdinand III of Castile was placed between the last four pillars of the nave, towards the
West end of the Cathedral, between the choir and the main doorway leading to the steps.
This space temporarily acquired an extra-quotidian exhibition value. For the duration
of the festivities, the visitor could contemplate the assemblage of works (paintings,
sculptures, emblems, etc.) that made up this exceptional ephemeral monument from
a spatial, sensorial, and an affective dimension, different from the one that the naves
and chapels of the Cathedral possessed in everyday life. That is to say, to quote Pamela
Bianchi, the exhibition space lost its usual statutory and architectural hierarchy for
this period, “becoming a hybrid place, a meta-theatre and simultaneously a meta-
museum.”14 The appearance of theatricality, as defined by Feral and Bermingham,
is dependent on the “creation of a distinct, fictional space which can also be created
outside the theatre.”15 But theatricality is also a mode of experience that involves the
space and the spectator, and in this sense, the presence of the Triumph in the nave
of Seville Cathedral re-signified this sacred space “generating perceptual dynamics,
linking the onlooker with someone or something that is looked at.”16
Confronted with this imposing scenography, the spectator moved through a space
in which they were not necessarily required to follow a predetermined religious
ritual, in contrast to their experience in standard visits to the temple. They became a
body that perceived and experienced different sensations and emotions from the aes-
thetics generated by the ephemeral. In other words, those attending this “performing
exhibition”17 experienced a new spatial and phenomenological dynamic within an
enveloping atmosphere, in which the soundscape (music and ambient sound from
inside and outside the building), lighting, and smells also intervened. Gernot Böhme,
who has developed an aesthetics of atmospheres in relation to architecture and stage
sets, states that “stage design has always made use of, not only objects, walls, and solids,
but also of light, sound, colour, and a host of other conventional means: symbols,
pictures, texts.”18 Juhani Pallasmaa, argues that “every moving experience of archi-
tecture is multi-sensory” and, rather than [it] merely appealing to the classic five
senses, he sees architecture as involving several realms of sensory experience that
interact and merge with each other.19 But more importantly, Pallasmaa states that
“we have an innate capacity to remember and imagine places. Perception, memory
and imagination are in constant interaction; the domain of presence merges into
images of memory and fantasy.”20 We must assume that records (text, image, sound)
contained in festival books do not always provide identical versions of historical live
performances. However, according to Pallasmaa’s approach, the contemplation of
the engraving we are analysing here would activate the memory, imagination, or fan-
tasy necessary to recreate that event. That is to say, from a scenographic perspective,
such records can be very useful for “reviving” materiality, sound and atmosphere in
a multisensory environment.21
The interaction between this vast ephemeral structure and the spectator also
continued beyond the exhibition space itself, through exchange with the street out-
side, as shown in the etching entitled: “Main Doorway of the Church Leading to the
Steps, Facing the Triumph.” Greer Crawley asserts that, in exhibition spaces, the exits
and entrances become highly important,
doors are key scenic elements signalling beginnings and endings and, as such, they
can be used to frame narrative, suggest circulation and mark transition. They
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Figure 8.2 Juan de Valdés Leal, Main Doorway of the Church Leading to the Steps, Facing the
Triumph (“Puerta principal, que sale a gradas, en frente del Triunfo”), etching, 1672,
in Fernando de la Torre Farfán, Fiestas de la S. Iglesia Metropolitana y Patriarcal
de Sevilla al nuevo Culto del Señor Rey S. Fernando el Tercero … (Seville: Viuda de
Nicolás Rodríguez, 1671 [1672]), opp. p. 133. Courtesy of University of Glasgow
Library, Archives & Special Collections, S.M. 1701.
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demonstrate Feral and Bermingham’s argument that ‘theatricality … is a per-
formative act creating the virtual space of the other’.22
According to this statement, this transitional space, the threshold (limen), “clears a
passage, allowing both the performing subject as well as the spectator to pass from
‘here’ to ‘elsewhere’.”23 In the etching examined here, we can clearly see the intercon-
nection between the two spaces: the narthex of the Cathedral and the street in front of
the doorway, where the buildings and balconies opposite are hung with awnings and
fine cloths, and people are already taking their seats to watch.
In the same plate that shows the scene outside the Cathedral, opposite the Triumph,
we can also observe the “relaxation” of standard norms in the attitudes and gestures
of the groups of people situated within the exhibition space or who have entered the
space to visit the Triumph. Their spontaneous behaviour is different from how they
might usually be expected to behave in this same space in an everyday context. The
two gentlemen on the left with their backs to the Triumph seem to be commenting
on the “scenography” that has also been installed on the inside of the door of the
Cathedral, which as is discussed below, included painted scenes and other decorative
elements.
Closer to the door, this plate also shows a trio, made up of a gentleman and
two ecclesiastics who are conversing with each other, whilst a lady and her two
attendants are entering the interior and are greeted by another figure. The attitudes
of all of them give an idea of how the atmosphere of the Cathedral during these
festivities changed people’s behaviour: it became a space of social interaction that
provided the visitor with new social, affective, and sensory experiences. The group
on the right, next to the balustrade, believed to represent the painter Juan de Valdés
Leal with the canons Justino de Neve and Juan de Loaysa, deserves special mention.
These three figures are examining a plan of the elevation of the Triumph, as if they
are verifying the realization of the design in front of the finished work before them.
These same figures also appear in the large plate that reproduces the great ephemeral
installation itself.
“Montage Sequence” in the Triumph Plate

The extraordinary Triumph plate shows, at the bottom, the plan of the four pillars
that supported the entire structure. But perhaps the most interesting thing about this
lower strip, which was clearly made as a separate plate that was then added to the
main image during printing, is that the scenes it depicts are conceived as an explana-
tory vignette. It shows the artists, again probably represented by the painter Valdés
Leal, presenting their project to the canons responsible for organizing the festivities.
Simultaneously, they (probably the designer Simón de Pineda and a joiner or builder)
are shown in the process of measuring the site where the Triumph was to be erected.
Thus, the figures in the centre hold a drawing of the octagonal ground plan of the
Triumph while, at the same time, in a kind of “sequence shot,” two of them are shown
further back, measuring the space to be occupied by the structure. This curious way
of integrating into the same composition different scenes of the same story recalls, in
a certain way, the staging of medieval religious theatre, as was investigated by Émile
Mâle in his pioneering study on the influence of the Mystery Plays in the art of the
Late Middle Ages.24
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The representation of temporality through images showing different moments in
the construction of the Triumph contravenes Lessing’s principle of composition in
the visual arts, which states that the visual arts should represent a single action at the
exact moment when it takes place: “Painting can use in its coexistent compositions
only a single moment of the action; and must therefore choose the most pregnant
one, which will render what precedes and follows most comprehensible.”25 Thus,
according to this principle, everything that the artist introduced into the compos-
ition and which was related to earlier or later moments would break the laws of
temporal unity. Surprisingly, the engraving we are commenting on transgresses this
principle of unity. Certainly, the representation of different moments within the plate
of the Triumph examined here shows an affinity with certain theatrical conventions
commonly employed in Spanish Golden-Age painting, such as the device of a “pic-
ture within a picture.” For example, the use of simultaneous scenes often related to
symbolic visions which occurred in religious or history paintings, whereas here, they
reflect the process of construction of the great ephemeral apparatus itself.26
Speaking in filmic terms, it could be suggested that some scenes resemble a type
of montage sequence, along the lines of Philippe Alain Michaud’s analysis of Aby
Warburg’s theory of montage.27 Warburg noted that, in order to attribute movement
to a figure (or to a scene in this case) that does not move, the spectator abandons
passive contemplation in order to actively intervene in the representation.28 In his
famous Mnemosyne Atlas (1924–1929), Warburg emphasized the enigmatic function
of the representation of movement, but it is only in the past two decades that sev-
eral researchers have noticed the particular use of the sequentiality and arrangement
of the images in the Mnemosyne Atlas.29 Returning to the Triumph engraving, the
scenes in the lower strip could be interpreted as a “sequence shot” from the simultan-
eous representation of different moments in the design process of the large ephem-
eral apparatus. Moreover, the spectator’s gaze can travel from a close-up shot to a
wider one so that, continuing the filmic analogy, this visual journey also suggests a
sense of “travelling.” On the other hand, and returning to Warburgian methodological
notions, “the concept of Nachleben can help in exploring a great variety of affectively
charged connections to popular culture and common visuals.”30
In short, the two engravings that reproduce, on one hand, the Triumph and, on the
other, the space between this structure and the street, have in themselves a marked
performative character. Going beyond the traditional limits of research on the role
of festivals in the cultural context of the Early Modern period, Peter Burke uses the
concept of “performativity” to deal with certain actions that are far removed from
a preestablished script and are closer to improvisation.31 Following this approach,
we might consider that the scenes in the lower part of the etching of the Triumph,
far from representing the theatricality of a “poignant moment,” reveal “unemotional
moments,” quotidian and improvised scenes, that is, the performativity of the process
of construction of such a great apparatus.
Perspectives on the Material Objects

The great Baroque monument of the Triumph filled the bay of the nave and soared
up almost into the vaults of the enormous Gothic cathedral.32 Its imagery throughout
made the theme of the festival inescapable: the canonization of King Ferdinand III
of Castile, who had conquered Seville from Muslim rule in 1248, and is buried in
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the Cathedral. His canonization represented a major political and religious coup,
following a period of much suffering in the city, due to several waves of plague and
famine, and a decline in its importance as a major international port.33 The canoniza-
tion campaign, mounted by the Seville Cathedral chapter over several decades, was an
attempt to reverse the city’s fortunes. Their case was submitted to Rome in 1668. In
March 1671 came the news that they had been successful: Pope Clement X granted
permission for the cult of Ferdinand to be celebrated throughout Spanish territories
on 30 May each year, and for a special festival to be held that year to celebrate this
new cult.34
The enormously costly celebrations organized by the Cathedral, which were held
over five days from 25–30 May, could be seen as a powerful and defiant symbol of the
city’s renewal. The Triumph monument alone cost 13,400 ducados;35 and, indeed, the
descriptions of the ephemeral installations and decorations throughout the building
constantly emphasize the precious materials, including metals, jewels, and textiles,
which caught and reflected the light. The artistic team responsible for the decorations
consisted of the city’s principal artists, including the painters Juan de Valdés Leal
(1622–1690), Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617– 1682), Francisco de Herrera
the Younger (1627–1685), Matías de Arteaga (1633–1703), and Pedro de Medina
(c. 1620–1691), as well as the designer Bernardo Simón de Pineda (1638–c. 1702),
and the sculptor Pedro Roldán (1624–1699).
The extravagant scale and cost of the festival is also reflected in the book that
was issued as a record of the occasion and provides our main source of informa-
tion. Fiestas de Sevilla the publication was unprecedented, not only due to the cost
of its production –143,000 reales –and the number of copies printed –2000 –but
also because it marked the first time that a book of this type had been produced in
Seville and illustrated entirely by the artists who had created the spectacle.36 In add-
ition to the engraved title page, there are 20 plates, 8 of which are large foldout ones.
The technique used –etching rather than line engraving –gives many of them, and
particularly the two focused on here, which are signed by Valdés Leal himself, an
unusually painterly quality. The folding plates are one of the most important ways
in which the interactivity and performativity encouraged in visitors to the festival
itself are continued through the book. As Rafael Mandressi and others have observed,
“[t]‌he physical forms in which a printed text is presented pose an expressive function
and contribute to the production of meaning.”37 The fact that the reader is required
to fold out some of the plates increases the sense of participation as they read the
text, whilst the anticipation involved in the action of revealing and concealing mimics
something of the juxtaposition between exterior and interior that is also played out
in the illustrations themselves, as an echo of the actual occasion. The author, Torre
Farfán, who was one of the Canons of the Cathedral, is the other key (re-)creator
of this extraordinary festival. He already had experience of describing a festival in
which an innovative approach to the exhibition of artworks had played a central part.
Thus, his text for the book commemorating the festivities for the renovation of the
nearby Church of Santa María la Blanca in 1666 provides a description not only of
the church itself, but also the ephemeral installations outside it, which included “the
most important public exhibition of paintings” in Spain by that date.38 In addition,
as Benito Navarrete has observed, Torre Farfán’s Jesuit background and education
would have encouraged his use of practices inspired by the “composition of place” in
his textual recreations of visual images.39
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The approach of the celebrations for Ferdinand’s canonization was signalled both
aurally and visually by a precursor event, held on 17 May: the jubilant sound of
bells, accompanied by trumpets and other instruments, was followed by a fireworks
display. Its date, a week before the festival proper, was partly determined by fears
about the increased fire risk posed by the quantity of flammable materials used for
the decorations.40 An etching of the exterior of the Cathedral, which forms one of the
folding plates in the commemorative book on these Fiestas de Sevilla (1671–1672),
shows heralds trumpeting the coming celebrations in front of the great West door,
which would soon be opened to reveal the Triumph.
The Cathedral was decorated externally, as well as internally. Most striking was
the 12th-century Giralda tower, which was decked out with flags and pennants.41
Originally one of the most admired minarets in Islamic architecture, it became the
Cathedral tower following Ferdinand’s victory, and the potent symbolism of its “con-
version” was further reinforced by the additional Renaissance-style storeys housing
the bells and topped by the figure of Faith.42 The cupola of the Sagrario (Sanctum),
recently added to the Cathedral, was also hung with pennants, seen fluttering from it
in the etching by Matías de Arteaga.
The situation of the Triumph, just inside the liminal area between exterior and
interior of the Cathedral, enabled it to function as both gateway and centrepiece
of the temporary displays. The text of the Fiestas de Sevilla shows how the whole
building served as a theatre for the celebrations, describing the transformation and
Matías de Arteaga, Seville Cathedral, West Front (“Occidens”), etching, 1672, in

Figure 8.3
Fernando de la Torre Farfán, Fiestas de la S. Iglesia Metropolitana y Patriarcal de
Sevilla al nuevo Culto del Señor Rey S. Fernando el Tercero … (Seville: Viuda de
Nicolás Rodríguez, 1671 [1672]), opp. p. 14. Courtesy of University of Glasgow
Library, Archives & Special Collections, S.M. 1701.
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enhancement effected throughout. Thus, the permanent works of art and architecture,
of which the Cathedral authorities were justly proud, were also highlighted,
and many treasures were brought out for display, or sited in different locations. The
Royal Chapel (Capilla Real), where the king was buried, was one of the key points
on the visit.43 The temporary decorations there involved building a wooden structure,
hung with crimson damask and velvet, fringed with gold, within the permanent
architecture, on the grounds that “variety” was an important part of “beauty,” and
that the “strangeness of objects,” or their novelty, “tended to be a chief motive for
their acclaim.”44 Elsewhere in the Cathedral, improvements were made that would
be of longer term benefit too, such as the gilding and estofado (a technique involving
incising a decorative pattern into polychromed gesso on wood) of the altarpiece in the
Capilla de Nuestra Señora del Pilar (Chapel of Our Lady of the Pillar), in addition to
the temporary hanging of rich crimson damask and the adornment of the altar with
precious silverware.45
Ferdinand himself, or at least a series of images of him, served as guide through
the transformed space within the Cathedral during the festivities.46 Often referred
to as “simulacra” (Simulacros), many of them were life-size, dressed sculptures in
polychromed wood. Of these, the most significant, and the only one to survive, was
the one commissioned from the sculptor Pedro Roldán, which was placed on a great
silver urn in front of the high altar to receive the new cult of the beatified king by
his “Vassals.”47 This same image was also taken on procession outside the Cathedral
as part of the celebrations.48 Another, which sparkled with jewels, was set within a
mandorla erected on top of his tomb in the Royal Chapel.49 And another, designed
by Murillo for the Sagrario, formed part of a theatrical installation featuring the king
being led by the blindfold female personification of Faith towards the city of Seville.50
These surrogates, like the multiple depictions of Ferdinand on the Triumph itself,
served to promote acceptance and reinforce recognition of the recently established
orthodoxy in the representation of the king. Based on the print by Charles Audran, the
depictions combined the king’s traditional attributes of crown, sword, and orb with
a more recent style of armour and ruff associated with Habsburg royal portraiture.51
The Triumph monument was even more ambitious than the imposing, 16th-century
Holy Week monument, mentioned above. Architecturally and iconographically, it was
inspired by the classical triumphal arch, which was boldly reimagined in a High-
Baroque manner.52 Its lower storey consisted of an arched structure which maximized
light and movement, providing an ideal temporary exhibition space. The complex
articulation of form and space invited viewers to look into and through from multiple
angles. The four diagonal arches were attached to the four pillars of the nave, which
were decorated with rich fabrics, enabling ephemeral and permanent architecture to
extend into and fuse with each other. The architecture was profusely decorated with
emblems and painted scenes, relating to Ferdinand’s deeds, including his conquest of
the city. There were also several freestanding sculptures on plinths. The central one
showed Ferdinand, with a halo, kneeling to offer his trophies of war to a figure sym-
bolizing the Church. Facing towards this, on each of the four sides, were turbaned
figures holding out large keys, representing the surrender of the Muslim rulers of the
cities conquered by Ferdinand: Córdoba (1236), Jaén (1246) and Murcia (1243),53 as
well as Seville.
In describing the arches of the lower storey, Torre Farfán pointed out that “no
part [of them] was content to clothe itself in richness and finery, aspiring much more
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toward the spirit of erudition and invention.”54 Amongst other motifs, he was refer-
ring to the 24 emblems on the outer faces of the central arch. These were depicted
within roundels, framed with laurel wreaths in silver with green enamel. The format
of their content, consisting of images, mottoes or inscriptions, and short verses, would
have been familiar to most viewers at the time, as standard elements of the decoration
and political and/or religious messaging of Early Modern festivals, and through the
many emblem books that were widely and cheaply available.55 These emblems within
roundels were referred to as “hieroglyphs” (Geroglíficos), which conveys some-
thing of their nature as puzzles, intended to delight as well as instruct.56 Another 16
emblems within larger shields, referred to as “targes” (Tarxas), were depicted on the
pediments of the diagonal arches. The fact that each of the emblems was illustrated,
as well as being described and explained in the publication gives an idea of how sig-
nificant they were considered to be in conveying the message and the spirit of the
festival. For a modern audience, the triumphalist content of some of the emblems is
disturbing: in one example, King Ferdinand is shown seated in a chariot, driving four
turbaned Moors. This hieroglyph, he says, shows how Ferdinand’s conquests directed
the Moorish population towards conversion to Christianity.57 The theme of conquest
as the route to salvation through conversion recurs in other emblems, as does that of
Ferdinand as restorer of the true faith.
The four sides of the pedestal above the arched structure contained paintings
depicting scenes relating to Ferdinand’s conquests, and on plinths at the four corners
were allegorical sculptures of Virtues. The painted scene represented in the etching by
Valdés Leal shows the king, pointing to an image of the Virgin and Child.58 This is the
Virgin of the Kings (Virgen de los Reyes), the dressed wooden image, which Ferdinand
carried with him on his campaign, and which now forms the altarpiece of the Royal
Chapel. The view of the Triumph shown in the etching is the one that faced out to
the West door. Thus, for the public and prospective visitors looking in, the painted
scene offered a highlight or foretaste of one of the key works on the visit inside the
Cathedral.
At the top of the monument was another simulacrum of Ferdinand as conquering
king, this time more than ten feet tall, in order to be clearly visible from below, and
richly dressed in armour and cloak. Here, he brandishes his sword in his right hand, as
he holds aloft his crown with his left hand, offering it to heaven. Above his head is a
halo of rays of light, representing the celestial crown that was his reward. Torre Farfán
described this as a “beautiful artifice,” which “descended from the upper part.”59 It
seems, therefore, that this was part of a piece of theatrical machinery, attached to the
building, which also formed the structure of clouds, cherubs, and sunburst, centred
around the “ineffable name of God” in Hebrew in gold lettering.60 The imagery
here, in particular, underlines the relationship between the monarch as defender of
the Christian faith and their dependence on God and the Church for legitimacy and
power.61 Cumulatively, the word-image content of the Triumph presented the jus-
tification of the canonization of Ferdinand, according to the mentality of the Early
Modern, post-Tridentine Catholic Church, encapsulating the case successfully made
by the Seville Cathedral chapter to Rome. The Cathedral chapter was also seeking
the full canonization of Ferdinand as a universal saint. The Triumph, and its detailed
documentation in Torre Farfán’s Fiestas de Sevilla can, likewise, be seen as part of
that (unsuccessful) campaign.62 At a much more general level, the Triumph can be
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interpreted as an attempt to foster within the populace of Seville a spirit of optimism
and triumph over adversity in troubled times.
At the end of his description of the Triunfo, Torre Farfán paid tribute to Valdés
Leal and Simón de Pineda, whom he proudly acknowledged as natives of the city, for
their work in the design and realization of such an ambitious project, even claiming
that this would be the major achievement for which they would be acclaimed.63 In
fact, given the enormous scale of the project and the short turnaround time, almost
every artist and craftworker in the city was involved.64 According to the standard
practice in workshops at the time, and in conformity with guild regulations governing
training and division of labour, much of the work would have been carried out by the
assistants and apprentices to master artists.65 Family members would also have been
involved in many cases, and family networks across different workshops and crafts
would have been a significant factor, particularly in collaborative and multidiscip-
linary projects, such as festivals. The etchings recording the emblems that decorated
the lower storeys of the Triumph offer important glimpses into the family workshops
of principal members of the artistic team. They are signed by three people: Francisco
de Arteaga (d. 1711),66 now believed to be the son, rather than the brother, of the
painter Matías de Arteaga, who etched most of the folding plates and who, as a well-
established painter, is also likely to have been closely involved in the creation of the
ephemeral decorations67; Lucas Valdés (1661–1725), son of Valdés Leal, then aged
11, who went on to become a well-known painter in the city68; and his sister, Luisa
Rafaela Valdés y Morales (b. 1654), who signed herself “Da. Luisa Morales” in her
three plates for the book, thus signalling her status as an adult female (Doña). She also
carried out gilding and painting of the sculpture of Ferdinand by Pedro Roldán for
the main altar (see above).69 However, in the history of art in Seville at this period, as
elsewhere, much remains unclear about the role of women, not only as practitioners
in their own right, but also more generally (and probably more commonly) within the
workshop, as assistants or specialists in certain fields.70
The folding plates of the Triumph and the Main Doorway [see Figures 8.1 and 8.2]
are the only ones in the publication that are signed, or initialled, by Valdés Leal, who
is generally regarded to have been the principal artist of the artistic team. As etchings,
they show an unusually painterly handling and sensitivity, compared with the more
meticulous design and approach of Matías de Arteaga [see Figure 8.3].71 In every
sense, they are more complex and multilayered than any of the other prints in the
book. Clearly, they are intended to complement each other, as were the two key loci
they represent and the ephemeral displays within them.
They, in turn, complement Torre Farfán’s descriptions of these focal spaces and
their material content which, in the case of the Triumph, takes up the most space
within the book.72 What he says about the decoration of the inside of the main
doorway also provides fascinating insight into the way these spaces were conceived
as reflecting and complementing each other, as well as into the pressures of preparing
such rich and complicated ephemeral installations. At several points in his narrative,
Torre Farfán acknowledged the pressures everyone was under during the project.73
Here, he admitted that it was not until they were putting the finishing touches to the
whole scheme that they realized that the decoration of the inside of the doorway was
unequal to the “handsome body” (Gallardo Cuerpo) of the Triumph facing it, and
that looking at such inequality of effect would also detract from the experience of
41

viewing the Triumph itself.74 Thus, he claimed that, despite the time pressure, the art-
istic team was persuaded, perhaps influenced by a Superior power, to return to work
and start cutting wood again, and all was, happily, finished on time. The providential
reference was, of course, another recurring trope to engage the reader in the drama of
the occasion; nevertheless, anyone who has been involved in an exhibition or celebra-
tion will empathize with his account.
The joinery work referred to by Torre Farfán would have been required to construct
the framework for the ephemeral decorations. The walls were hung with rich brocade,
with gold fringes and tassels. The doorway became a triumphal arch, a standard fea-
ture in Early Modern festivals and royal entries, and here, an appropriate complement
to the Triumph monument itself. Above the doorway, an enormous shield with the
arms of Castile and Leon was placed, flanked by other royal coats-of-arms, including
one for the King-Saint Ferdinand III (“S F R III”). On either side, musicians’ galleries
were constructed for the buglers –and a drummer, as can be seen at far left in the
etching –who, “with incessant martial sound would lift the spirits and soften the eyes
of the admiring gathering.”75 The lateral arches were topped with painted hieroglyphs
with trophies, cherubs, and emblematic mottoes and verses relating to Ferdinand’s
victories. The two archways below contained painted scenes.76 The one on the left
shows Ferdinand presenting the staff to his son Philip, as first archbishop of Seville,
following the conquest. Since the central arch is the open West door of the Cathedral,
its subject is the audience and visitors who have come to admire the Triumph and the
other decorations inside. The arch to the right continues the theme of juxtaposition of
interior and exterior perspectives, by showing a view looking towards the Cathedral’s
South door, with a winged figure of Fame above it. The Latin inscription below is an
epigram by the Roman author Martial: “Unum pro cunctis fama loquatur opus” –
“Fame will tell of one work rather than them all,” referring to the construction of the
Cathedral, which replaced the main mosque following Ferdinand’s conquest of the
city.77 But, since the inscription is sited just behind the heads of the project team of
artists and canons, as they examine the plan of the elevation of the Triumph now in
front of them, is the “One Work” also the Triumph? Clearly, it is a palimpsest of all
of these things.78
Conclusions
The research presented in this chapter has sought to demonstrate specific examples
of new perspectives and possibilities in our understanding of the role of the exhib-
ition of art in Early Modern festive culture in Europe that are opened up through
the expanded application of theories and methodologies of scenography and, espe-
cially, performativity in relation to audiences. Our study of the transformation of the
sacred space of Seville Cathedral during the San Fernando festivities of 1671, and
specifically of the siting of the monument that was the centrepiece of the celebrations,
highlights the significance of liminal areas on such occasions in influencing performa-
tive behaviours and mediating the dialogue between interior and exterior space.
The analysis of these two illustrations for the Fiestas de Sevilla is based on close
reading, not only of the images themselves but also the particular word-image com-
bination available here, and its outstanding quality. Like many readers and recipients
at the time, we are dependent on the publication as a record of the celebrations.
However, Torre Farfán’s frequent protestations about the inability of the pen (both
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his own and more generally) to adequately capture the splendour of the ephem-
eral installations,79 and his regular resort to familiar, exaggerated tropes, are useful
reminders of the responsibility of readers and viewers of text and image to exercise
judgement and discernment, as well as to open hearts, minds, and senses to the festive
experience. Given that many of the recipients of this book, like many other festival
books, were intended to be powerful people with influence, it is worth bearing in
mind the performative and participatory role of both book and reader in the festive
celebrations. Indeed, the extravagance of this and other festivals might also have been
influenced, in part, by the determination of the organizers to record their own wealth
and power, or to promote a particular cause through the printed record.80 In addition,
the ephemeral installations, as Torre Farfán also reflects in the book, catered to mul-
tiple audiences, with messaging targeted at several levels, perhaps most notably in the
case of the emblems, containing image and inscription, as well as verses in Spanish,
and often in Latin too, each of which nuances and builds on each other.
As we have shown, the two etchings analysed here are exceptional and extraor-
dinary in every sense. Nevertheless, the insights they offer suggest that the illustrations
in festival books, and similar material relating to other celebrations, may also provide
valuable opportunities for the reinterpretation or recovery of aspects of the signifi-
cance of such festive occasions within Early Modern society, including in relation
to exhibiting practices and the possibilities for displaying art. In this instance too,
the meta-images contained within these prints, together, form a highly staged tableau
which constitutes one of the most important statements about the role of artists in
festivals and special celebrations in Early Modern Spain.
Notes
* The research for this chapter forms part of the collaborative project Scenographic Culture
in the Hispanic Context in the Early Modern Period: A Holistic Approach, funded by the
Spanish Ministry of Science and Innovation, Ref. PID2020-117415GB-I00.
1 Terms such as “extended” scenography (Brejzed et al., 2009) and “expanding scenography”
(den Oudsten, 2011; Lotker and Goug, 2013) “have more recently been applied to a very
range of interdisciplinary and cultural context”. See Joslin McKinney and Scott Palmer.
“Introducing ‘Expanded’ Scenography,” in Scenography Expanded: An Introduction
to Contemporary Performance Design, edited by Joslin McKinney and Scott Palmer
(London: Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2017): 2–4.
2 Astrid von Rosen and Viveka Kjellmer (eds.), Scenography and Art History: Performance
Design and Visual Culture (London: Bloomsbury, 2021).
3 Francisco Pacheco, Arte de la pintura (1638), edited by Bonaventura Bassegoda (Madrid:
Cátedra, 2001): 451.
4 Fernando de la Torre Farfán, Fiestas de la S. Iglesia Metropolitana y Patriarcal de Sevilla
al nuevo Culto del Señor Rey S. Fernando el Tercero … (Seville: Viuda de Nicolás
Rodríguez, 1671 [1672]): 22. See also Antonio Bonet Correa, “Torre Farfán y la fiesta de la
canonización de San Fernando en Sevilla, en 1671,” Fiestas de la Santa Iglesia Metropolitana
y Patriarcal de Sevilla al nuevo culto del Señor Rey San Fernando por Fernando de la Torre
Farfán (Seville: Fundación Focus de Cultura de Sevilla, 1985): X. Vicente Lleó Cañal. “El
Monumento de la Catedral de Sevilla durante el siglo XVI,” Archivo Hispalense, Vol. 59
no. 180 (1976): 97–111.
5 Carmen González-Román, “Scenographing Festival Books: Towards a Multisensory
Archive,” in Scenography and Art History: Performance Design and Visual Culture, edited
by Astrid von Rosen and Viveka Kjellmer (London: Bloomsbury, 2021): 165–182.
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6 González-Román, “Scenographing Festival Books”, 168.
7 McKinney and Palmer, Scenography Expanded, 12.
8 Rachel Hann, Beyond Scenography (London: Routledge, 2019): 122.
9 See also, in the present volume: Ginevra Odone, “The ephemeral Façade of Cardinal de
Solis´s Palace: Politics and Aesthetics in XVIII Century Rome”; and Antonia Laurence-
Allen, “ ‘A curious Collection of Pictures’: A 1697 Edinburgh Auction”.
10 Isabel Valverde, “La visita al Salón: Las exposiciones de arte y la experiencia del cuerpo
en los albores de la cultura de masas,” in El objeto desbordante: Espacios inmersivos
y estrategias multisensoriales en el arte, edited by Eduard Cairol and Tomas Macsotay,
Espacio, Tiempo y forma, 9 (2021): 85–113. https://doi.org/10.5944/etfvii.9.2021.30972.
11 Pamela Bianchi, “The Theatricality of Exhibition Spaces. Fluid Spectatorship into Hybrid
Places,” Anglistica AION, Vol. 20, no. 2 (2016): 85. https://doi.org/10.19231/angl-
aion.201627.
12 Exploration on narratives and environments in contemporary exhibition spaces have been
studied by academics from a range of disciplines including museum studies, theatre studies,
architecture, design, and history who have cut across traditional boundaries, see, for
example, Suzanne Macleod, Laura Hourston, Hourston Hanks, and Jonathan Hale, Museum
Making. Narratives, Architectures, Exhibitions (London: Routledge, 2012). However, the
research on exhibition spaces in Early Modern period remains under-theorized.
13 Bianchi. “The Theatricality of Exhibition Spaces”, 87. In this article, the author refers to
contemporary exhibition spaces, where the arts of time and the arts of space coexist, gener-
ating a relationship in which the ideas of temporal succession and spatial juxtaposition are
present simultaneously. Likewise, we allude here to the way in which the ideas of space and
time coexist in the engravings we are analysing.
14 Bianchi. “The Theatricality of Exhibition Spaces,” 83.
15 Josette Feral and Ronald P. Bermingham, “Theatricality: The Specificity of Theatrical
Language,” SubStance, Vol. 31, no. 2/3 (2002): 105. https://doi.org/10.2307/3685480.
16 Feral and Bermingham, “Theatricality: The Specificity of Theatrical Language,” 105.
17 We take this idea from Pamela Bianchi, where she deals with the theatricality of contem-
porary exhibition spaces, in which the visual and performing arts converge, giving rise
to what she calls “performing exhibitions”, see Bianchi, “Theatricality of Exhibition
Spaces,” 84.
18 Gernot Böhme, “Atmosphere as the Subject Matter of Architecture”, in Herzog and
Meuron: Natural History, edited by Philip Ursprung (London: Lars Muller Publishers,
2006): 406. See also Gernot Böhme and Jean-Paul Thibaud, The Aesthetics of Atmospheres
(London: Routledge, 2016); and González-Román, “Scenographing Festival Books”, 167.
19 Juhani Pallasmaa, Los ojos de la piel. La arquitectura y los sentidos (Barcelona: Gustavo
Gili, 2021): 52.
20 Pallasmaa. Los ojos de la piel, 78.
21 González-Román, “Scenographing Festival Books”, 173.
22 Greer Crawley, “Staging Exhibitions: Atmospheres of Imagination,” in Museum Making:
Narratives, Architectures, Exhibitions, edited by Suzanne Macleod, Laura Hourston Hanks,
and Jonathan Hale (London: Routledge, 2012): 16.
23 Crawley, “Staging Exhibition,” 16.
24 Émile Mâle, “Le renouvellement de l´art par les Mystères a la fin du Moyen Age,” Gazette
des Beaux-Arts I, 1904.
25 Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Laocoön (1766), in A Library of the World’s Best Literature,
edited by Charles Dudley Warner (New York: Cosimo Classics, 2008): vol XXIII, 9022.
26 Contemporary viewers of these scenes would also have been familiar with the use of
metadrama, such as the subplots of theatre companies preparing, staging, and acting in
plays as commentaries on the main action in Early Modern plays –for example, Pedro
Calderón de la Barca’s La vida es sueño (Life is a Dream), 1636, or Shakespeare’s Hamlet,
7
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1603. But again, the relationship here between the subplot (the artists at work) and the
main drama (the Triumph monument) is unusually –and remarkably –direct.
27 Philippe Alain Michaud, Aby Warburg and the Image in Motion (New York: Zone Books,
2004): 83.
28 Michaud, Aby Warburg and the Image in Motion, 83.
29 George Didi-Huberman, in his well-known essay L’Image survivante (2002), pointed out
the “combinatorial” sense, as well as the coexistence of all kinds of “serial effects” in the
atlas. He also noted a montage technique similar to that used in cinema. The same place
can be systematically explored from far and near and, so to speak, in travelling, as can be
seen in the panels on the Malatesta temple in Rimini or the Chigi chapel in Rome. For his
part, Philippe-Alain Michaud in Aby Warburg and the image in Motion specifies how the
atlas is based on a cinematic mode of thought in which the image is used not to articu-
late meanings but to produce effects by juxtaposing and constructing its genealogy, see
Carmen González-Román, “Un sueño warburgiano: Devolviendo (digitalmente) el arte a la
vida,” Universitas: Las artes ante el tiempo. XXIII Congreso Nacional de Historia del Arte
(Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2021): 884–894.
30 Astrid von Rosen, “Scenographing Strindberg: Ström´s Alchemical Interpretation of a
Dream Play 1915-18 in Düsseldorf,” in Dream-playing across Borders: Accessing the Non-
texts of Strindberg’s A Dream Play in Düsseldorf 1915–1918 and Beyond, edited by Astrid
von Rosen (Gothenburg: Makadam): 137–187. Available online: https://gupea.ub.gu.se/
handle/2077/55175.
31 Peter Burke, “Varieties of Performance in Seventeenth-Century Italy,” in Performativity
and Performance in Baroque Rome, edited by Peter Gillgren and Marten Snickare
(Surrey: Ashgate, 2012): 15–23.
32 The bay of the nave in which it stood measured 59 feet square across, and 134 feet in height
to the apex of the vault (Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 22).
33 An account of the conquest of Seville by Ferdinand III from the perspective of the Christian,
Castilian conquerors is given in the Primera Crónica general de España commissioned
by Ferdinand’s son King Alfonso X of Castile. For selected extracts from this, translated
by Simon Doubleday, see Medieval Iberia: Readings from Christian, Muslim and Jewish
Sources, edited by Olivia Remie Constable and Damian Zurro (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2012): 286–287. For a summary of the situation in Seville in the years
preceding the celebrations for the canonization of St Ferdinand, see Amanda Wunder, “A
Temporary Triumph: Seville Cathedral’s Festival for St Ferdinand”, Baroque Seville: Sacred
Art in a Century of Crisis (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012): 73–96,
(75, 78).
34 Diego Ortiz de Zúñiga, Anales eclesiásticos y seculares de la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de
Sevilla, metrópoli de la Andalucía (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1795–1796). Facsimile edition,
ed. Antonio Maria Espinosa y Carzel, 5 vols. (Seville: Guadalquivir, 1988): 5, 229–235.
35 Details of some of the costs, taken from the “Quentas de la beatificación y canonización”,
Archivo de la Catedral de Sevilla, Sección VIII. Varios, 3, San Fernando, Libro 37(7), are
given in Wunder, “A Temporary Triumph,” 75 and nn. 6-8. Though estimates of equivalence
in today’s money vary widely, the sum paid for the Triumph might represent between a
quarter and half a million euros. For comparison, see “El valor del dinero en el siglo XVII
con respecto al siglo XXI”: https://laramblacofradiera.blogspot.com/2014/07/el-valor-del-
dinero-en-el-siglo-xvii.html (accessed 17 November 2021).
36 Estimates of the equivalent value of one real in today’s money range from 1.54 to 3.74 euros.
37 Rafael Mandressi, “Images et savoirs,” L’Europe des sciences et techniques: Un dialogue
des savoirs, XVe-XVIIIe siècle, edited by Lilianne Hilaire-Pérez, Fabien Simon, and Marie
Thébaud-Sorger (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2016): 303–309 (304), (our
translation), http://books.openedition.org/pur/45861. ‘See also Hilary Macartney, “Torre
Farfán’s Fiestas de Sevilla: A Journey with Stirling Maxwell”, From Real Life into the
8
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World of Art, ART-ES Virtual Exhibition, curated by Carmen González-Román and Rudi
Risatti: www.artes-exhibition.digital/fiestas-de-sevilla/.’
38 Javier Portús, “Discourses on the Art of Painting in Seville in Justino de Neve’s Time,” in
Murillo & Justino de Neve: The Art of Friendship, edited by Gabriele Finaldi (Madrid: Museo
del Prado, 2012): 47–59 (48).
39 Benito Navarrete Prieto, Murillo: Persuasion and Aura (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021): 260.
40 Another fireworks display and light show was held outside the Cathedral later in the fes-
tival, as part of the street celebrations that also included the procession of the image of St
Ferdinand.
41 The Giralda tower in festive guise is depicted in another of the folding plates, etched by
Matías de Arteaga, in the Fiestas de Sevilla.
42 See Victor Nieto, Alfredo J. Morales, and Fernando Checa, Arquitectura del Renacimiento
en España, 1488-1599 (Madrid: Catedra, 1997): 167–169.
43 Another folding plate, etched by Matías de Arteaga, illustrates the decoration of the Royal
Chapel.
44 “[La] Variedad tiene … tan elegida Parte en la Hermosura, y la Estrañeza de los Objetos
suele ser principal motivo de las Aclamaciones”, Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 140 (all translations
are by the authors of this chapter). Torre Farfán goes on to explain that another reason was
to avoid damage to the stone walls by temporary fixtures.
45 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 157. The techniques of estofado are described by Francisco
Pacheco in his Arte de la Pintura (1649). See Zahira Veliz, “Francisco Pacheco, The Art
of Painting (1649),” Artists’ Techniques in Golden Age Spain: Six Treatises in Translation
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986): 30– 106 (56–
63). The altarpiece has
recently been conserved, see www.catedraldesevilla.es/comienzan-diferentes-intervencio
nes-en-la-capilla-de-la-virgen-del-pilar/ (accessed 14 December 2021).
46 The image of the monarch frequently served as surrogate for the monarch themselves, and
with the same authority, in Early Modern Spain and its empire. Examples of art which
reflect this include some of the paintings for the Hall of the Realms, in the Buen Retiro
Palace, Madrid, as well as in drama.
47 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 274.
48 This image is still processed each year during Corpus Christi.
49 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 149–150.
50 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 217–227. An etching by Matías de Arteaga forms another of the
folding plates. See also Navarrete, Murillo: Persuasion and Aura, 260– 264; Benito
Navarrete Prieto, Murillo y las metáforas de la imagen (Madrid: Catedra, 2017), 329–
336; and Paulina Ferrer Garrofe, “Murillo escenógrafo: Decorado y puesta en escena en la
capilla del Sagrario para las fiestas de canonización de San Fernando,” Archivo Hispalense,
Vol. LXIV, no. 195 (1982): 79–86.
51 Wunder, “A Temporary Triumph,” 79–80. The sculptor Pedro Roldán, along with Murillo,
were famously shown the incorrupt body of St Ferdinand so that they could create authentic
“portraits” of him. See also Amanda Wunder, “Murillo and the Canonization Case for San
Fernando,” Burlington Magazine, vol. 143, no. 1184 (2001), 670–675.
52 For its imitation of triumphal arches, see Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 22.
53 For the case of Murcia, which was later conquered by Jaume I of Aragon in 1266, see L.P.
Harvey, Islamic Spain, 1250-1500 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990): 44–48.
55 See, for example, Peter Daly, The Emblem in Early Modern Europe: Contributions to the
Theory of the Emblem (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014).
56 The precise definition of “hieroglyph” in the context of emblematic material in the Early
Modern period is difficult to pin down. Before emblems were in systematic use in Spain,
emblematic material from sources such as Pierio Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica, Sive De Sacris
Aegyptiorum (1566) was frequently used in festivals. The use of Valeriano, together with
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headings and mottoes, was already widespread when a new “genre” of emblem stabilized,
consisting of pictura, inscriptio, and subscriptio, in the late 16th century, in which an
additional layer of scholarship and nuance was often present through the use of two
subscriptions, one in Latin and another in Spanish. The two genres continued to be used,
including in ephemeral displays, where their forms may also have merged or hybridized. We
are grateful to Dr Pedro Germano Leal for his advice on this matter (personal communica-
tion, 13 December 2021).
57 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 102, where it is illustrated within a set of six, signed with the initials
of Lucas Valdés, and dated 1672.
58 For the attribution of this scene to Valdés Leal himself, see Rosemarie Mulcahy, “Celebrating
Sainthood, Government and Seville: The Fiestas for the Canonization of King Ferdinand
III,” Hispanic Research Journal, Vol. 11, no. 5 (2010): 406.
60 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 121. See also Mulcahy, “Celebrating Sainthood,” 393- 414, who
compares this to the Baroque machinery still used in the annual mystery play at Elche
(Alicante).
61 See Mulcahy, “Celebrating Sainthood,” 404.
62 See Wunder, “A Temporary Triumph,” 96.
64 Wunder, “A Temporary Triumph”, 82
65 See Peter Cherry, “Artistic Training and the Painter’s Guild in Seville,” Velázquez in Seville,
edited by Michael Clark (Edinburgh: National Gallery of Scotland, 1996): 67–75. Another
key link between the members of the artistic team was their involvement in the first academy
of art in Spain that can be recorded in any detail. See Hilary Macartney, “The Nobility of
Art: The Seville Academy Founded by Murillo and a Portrait of Philip IV at Pollok House,”
Journal of the Scottish Society for Art History, Vol. 4 (1999): 48–56.
66 See Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 92 and 98, where Francisco de Arteaga signed both sets of four
etchings, dated 1672. On his relationship to Matías, see www.britishmuseum.org/collect
ion/term/BIOG17705 (accessed 17 November 2021) for this new suggestion. Other sources
follow Juan Agustín Ceán Bermúdez, Diccionario histórico de los mas ilustres profesores de
las bellas artes en España (Madrid: Viuda de Ibarra, 1800): Vol. I, 77.
67 On Matías de Arteaga, see Enrique Valdivieso, Historia de la pintura sevillana. Siglos XIII-
XX (Seville: Ediciones Guadalquivir, 1986): 225–228.
68 See Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 38, 46, 102, 106 (3), where Lucas Valdés signed each of the sets of
four emblems. He gave his age: “de edad de 11 As” only on the last, which is dated 1672,
perhaps because he had recently reached this birthday.
69 See Wunder, “A Temporary Triumph,” 82 and 87.
70 Isabel de Morales y Carrasquilla, who was married to Valdés Leal, was also a painter,
as was another daughter, María (d. 1730), see Ceán Bermúdez, Diccionario, Vol. V, 107.
Nevertheless, the case of Luisa Roldán, daughter of Pedro, who became a renowned sculptor,
remains exceptional. See Catherine Hall-Van den Elsen, Luisa Roldán: Illuminating Women
Artists (London: Lund Humphries, 2021).
71 But see Mulcahy, “Celebrating Sainthood,” 399, who argues that Arteaga might have been
involved in these prints; and 403, on the extent of Simón de Pineda’s involvement in the
Triumph design.
72 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 21–112 on the Triumph, and 123–133 on the Main Doorway, out of
343 pages in total.
73 See, for example, Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 153, on the need not only to use all hours of daylight
but also to turn night into day with secondary lighting.
75 Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 126: “con incessable Estruendo Marcial, levantaban los ánimos, y
enternecían los Ojos del Admirado Concurso.”
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76 The painted scenes produced for the ephemeral installations are likely to have been on
cloth. Painted cloths, known as sargas (i.e. on serge or similar fabric) offered a quick and
versatile solution for festivals and celebrations, as well as in theatre. The paint medium
would generally be tempera or another aqueous medium, rather than oils, to facilitate direct
application onto fabric, without lengthy and elaborate preparatory layers. Few examples
have survived, probably because they deteriorated in storage or through repainting.
Pacheco described the painting of sargas in Seville in his discussion of methods of tempera,
see Veliz, “Francisco Pacheco,” 45–47. See also See Sing d’Arcy, “Painted Cloth and the
Transformation of Seville Cathedral for the 1671 Festivities of the Canonization of Saint
Ferdinand III,” in Setting the Scene: European Painted Cloths from the Fourteenth to the
Twenty-first Century, edited by Nicola Costaras and Christina Young (London: Archetype,
2013): 85–91.
77 M. Valerii Martialis, Liber spectacularum, I.
78 See Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 128, who interprets the figure of Fame here as “Pintura conocida
de la Fama”, painting (and perhaps, more broadly, art) recognized by fame.
79 See, for example, in his description of the exterior of the Triumph: “Of all this arrangement
and beauty, I judge the pen to be a poor paintbrush; the only sure indicator can be the dis-
play itself” (De toda esta Disposición, y Belleza siempre juzgo poco Pincel la Pluma, solo
puede ser Tabla cierta su propia Demostración), Torre Farfán, Fiestas, 107.
80 As stated in the Minutes of the Cathedral chapter, the purpose of Torre Farfán’s Fiestas for
St Ferdinand was “to advance and facilitate his canonization.” See Wunder, “A Temporary
Triumph,” 92.
References
Sing d’Arcy, “Painted Cloth and the Transformation of Seville Cathedral for the 1671 Festivities
of the Canonization of Saint Ferdinand III,” in Setting the Scene: European Painted Cloths
from the Fourteenth to the Twenty-First Century, edited by Nicola Costaras and Christina
Young, (London: Archetype, 2013): 85–91.
Pamela Bianchi, “The Theatricality of Exhibition Spaces. Fluid Spectatorship into Hybrid
Places,” Anglistica AION, Vol. 20, no. 2 (2016): 85.
Gernot Böhme, “Atmosphere as the Subject Matter of Architecture,” in Herzog and
Meuron: Natural History, edited by Philip Ursprung (London: Lars Muller Publishers,
2006): 398–406.
Gernot Böhme and Jean- Paul Thibaud, The Aesthetics of Atmospheres (London:
Routledge, 2016).
Antonio Bonet Correa, “Torre Farfán y la fiesta de la canonización de San Fernando en Sevilla,
en 1671,” Fiestas de la Santa Iglesia Metropolitana y Patriarcal de Sevilla al nuevo culto
del Señor Rey San Fernando por Fernando de la Torre Farfán (Seville: Fundación Focus de
Cultura de Sevilla, 1985): VII–XX.
Peter Burke, “Varieties of Performance in Seventeenth-Century Italy,” in Performativity and
Performance in Baroque Rome, edited by Peter Gillgren and Marten Snickare (Surrey: Ashgate,
2012): 15–23.
Juan Agustín Ceán Bermúdez, Diccionario histórico de los mas ilustres profesores de las bellas
artes en España (Madrid: Viuda de Ibarra, 1800): Vol. I.
Peter Cherry, “Artistic training and the painter’s guild in Seville,” in Velázquez in Seville, edited
by Michael Clark (Edinburgh: National Gallery of Scotland, 1996): 67–75.
Greer Crawley, “Staging Exhibitions: Atmospheres of Imagination,” in Museum
Making: Narratives, Architectures, Exhibitions, edited by Suzanne Macleod, Laura Hourston
Hanks and Jonathan Hale (London: Routledge, 2012): 12–20.
Peter Daly, The Emblem in Early Modern Europe: Contributions to the Theory of the Emblem
(Farnham: Ashgate, 2014).
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Simon Doubleday, Medieval Iberia: Readings from Christian, Muslim and Jewish Sources, edited
by Olivia Remie Constable and Damian Zurro (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 2012): 286–287.
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, “Laocoön (1766),” A Library of the World’s Best Literature, edited
by Charles Dudley Warner (New York: Cosimo Classics, 2008): vol XXIII, 9022.
Josette Feral and Ronald P. Bermingham, “Theatricality: The Specificity of Theatrical Language,”
SubStance, Vol. 31, no. 2/3 (2002): 105.
Paulina Ferrer Garrofe, “Murillo escenógrafo: Decorado y puesta en escena en la capilla del
Sagrario para las fiestas de canonización de San Fernando,” Archivo Hispalense, Vol. LXIV,
no. 195 (1982): 79–86.
Carmen González-Román, “Scenographing Festival Books: Towards a Multisensory Archive,”
in Scenography and Art History Performance Design and Visual Culture, edited by Astrid
von Rosen and Viveka Kjellmer (London: Bloomsbury, 2021): 165–182.
Carmen González-Román, “Un sueño warburgiano: Devolviendo (digitalmente) el arte a la
vida,” Universitas: Las artes ante el tiempo. XXIII Congreso Nacional de Historia del Arte
(Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2021): 884–894.
Catherine Hall-Van den Elsen, Luisa Roldán: Illuminating Women Artists (London: Lund
Humphries, 2021).
Rachel Hann, Beyond Scenography (London: Routledge, 2019).
L.P. Harvey, Islamic Spain, 1250-1500 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990).
Vicente Lleó Cañal. “El Monumento de la Catedral de Sevilla durante el siglo XVI,” Archivo
Hispalense, Vol. 59, no. 180 (1976): 97–111.
Hilary Macartney, “The Nobility of Art: The Seville Academy Founded by Murillo and a
Portrait of Philip IV at Pollok House,’ Journal of the Scottish Society for Art History, Vol. 4
(1999): 48–56.
Hilary Macartney, “Torre Farfán’s Fiestas de Sevilla: A Journey with Stirling Maxwell”, From
Real Life into the World of Art, ART-ES Virtual Exhibition, curated by Carmen González-
Román and Rudi Risatti: www.artes-exhibition.digital/fiestas-de-sevilla/.
Suzanne Macleod, Laura Hourston, Hourston Hanks, and Jonathan Hale, Museum Making.
Narratives, Architectures, Exhibitions (London: Routledge, 2012).
Émile Mâle, “Le renouvellement de l´art par les Mystères a la fin du Moyen Age,” Gazette des
Beaux-Arts Vol. I (1904): 379–394.
Rafael Mandressi, “Images et savoirs,” in L’Europe des sciences et techniques: Un dialogue
des savoirs, XVe-XVIIIe siècle, edited by Lilianne Hilaire-Pérez, Fabien Simon, and Marie
Thébaud-Sorger (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2016): 303–309.
Joslin McKinney and Scott Palmer. “Introducing ‘Expanded’ Scenography,” in Scenography
Expanded: An Introduction to Contemporary Performance Design, edited by Joslin
McKinney and Scott Palmer (London: Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2017): 1–19.
Philippe Alain Michaud, Aby Warburg and the Image in Motion (New York: Zone
Books, 2004).
Rosemarie Mulcahy, “Celebrating Sainthood, Government and Seville: The Fiestas for
the Canonization of King Ferdinand III,” Hispanic Research Journal, Vol. 11, no. 5
(2010): 406.
Benito Navarrete Prieto, Murillo y las metáforas de la imagen (Madrid: Catedra, 2017).
Benito Navarrete Prieto, Murillo: Persuasion and Aura (Turnhout: Brepols, 2021).
Victor Nieto, Alfredo J. Morales, and Fernando Checa, Arquitectura del Renacimiento en
España, 1488-1599 (Madrid: Catedra, 1997): 167–169.
Diego Ortiz de Zúñiga, Anales eclesiásticos y seculares de la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de
Sevilla, metrópoli de la Andalucía (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1795–1796).
Francisco Pacheco, Arte de la pintura (1638), edited by Bonaventura Bassegoda (Madrid:
Cátedra, 2001).
2
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Juhani Pallasmaa, Los ojos de la piel. La arquitectura y los sentidos (Barcelona: Gustavo
Gili, 2021).
Javier Portús, “Discourses on the Art of Painting in Seville in Justino de Neve’s Time,” in Murillo
& Justino de Neve: The Art of Friendship, edited by Gabriele Finaldi (Madrid: Museo del
Prado, 2012): 47–59 (48).
Astrid von Rosen, “Scenographing Strindberg: Ström´s Alchemical Interpretation of a Dream
Play 1915-18 in Düsseldorf,” in Dream-Playing across Borders: Accessing the Non-texts
of Strindberg’s A Dream Play in Düsseldorf 1915–1918 and Beyond, edited by Astrid von
Rosen (Gothenburg: Makadam): 137–187.
Astrid von Rosen and Viveka Kjellmer (eds.), Scenography and Art History: Performance
Design and Visual Culture (London: Bloomsbury, 2021).
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nuevo Culto del Señor Rey S. Fernando el Tercero … (Seville: Viuda de Nicolás Rodríguez,
1671 [1672]).
Enrique Valdivieso, Historia de la pintura sevillana. Siglos XIII- XX (Seville: Ediciones
Guadalquivir, 1986).
Isabel Valverde, “La visita al Salón: Las exposiciones de arte y la experiencia del cuerpo en los
albores de la cultura de masas,” in El objeto desbordante: Espacios inmersivos y estrategias
multisensoriales en el arte, edited by Eduard Cairol and Tomas Macsotay, Espacio, Tiempo
y forma 9 (2021): 85–113.
Zahira Veliz, “Francisco Pacheco, The Art of Painting (1649),” Artists’ Techniques in Golden
Age Spain: Six Treatises in Translation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986): 30–
106 (56–63).
Amanda Wunder, “Murillo and the Canonization Case for San Fernando,” Burlington Magazine,
Vol. 143, no. 1184 (2001): 670–675.
Amanda Wunder, “A temporary triumph: Seville Cathedral’s festival for St Ferdinand,” Baroque
Seville: Sacred Art in a Century of Crisis (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press,
2012): 73–96 (75, 78).
3
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9
The Ephemeral Façade of Cardinal
de Solis’s Palace
Aesthetics and Politics in 18th-Century
Rome
Ginevra Odone
Introduction
The history of the ephemeral apparatuses is intrinsically linked to the cultural history
of the city of Rome in the modern age, as underlined since the 1970s by numerous
studies dedicated to these masterpieces designed to last only a few days, if not a few
hours.1 In ceremonies, especially during the Baroque period, these apparatuses were
designed and built specifically for the events to be celebrated, such as weddings,
births of sovereigns and princes’ children, religious celebrations, political ascent, and
funerals. The privileged materials were wood, papier-mâché, and sometimes marble,
which were applied to palaces and churches to transform the exteriors, updating the
aesthetics, and completely distorting them from their original versions. This type of
temporary artistic manifestation was extremely popular in Rome in the 17th century
and for a good part of the following one. These façades were steeped in symbols and
often the figurative language adopted was so complex that, to reach people more
easily, an explanation was also needed through written compositions or drawings
and engravings.2 During the end of the 18th century, this practice of lavishly dressing
up the façades of buildings began to slowly fade, probably due to the high costs
involved, limiting this tradition to the commemorations for the election of cardinals
and a few other religious manifestations.3 The choice of location was never accidental,
and people were invited to fully enjoy the use of these structures, encouraging them to
share their experiences and the ephemeral space created for the occasion. Each event
was celebrated to affirm an idea or a power, pass from amazement to involvement,
and then to the persuasion of the public through the work of art. This article will be
particularly interested in one of these ephemeral apparatuses, namely the one created
for the façade of Palazzo Spada-Veralli commissioned in Rome in 1769 by the Spanish
Francisco de Solís Folch de Cardona (1713–1776) to celebrate his office as cardinal.
The study of this apparatus and its construction will help us to better understand
the political reasons behind its realization, namely, to underline the link between the
Spanish crown and the Papacy in a particularly important historical moment: the
years of the suppression of the Society of Jesus. This apparatus and its decorations
became the vehicle to convey the message that the king of Spain Charles III (1759–
1788) and Pope Clement XIV (1769–1774) were supporting each other, even if the
pontiff still had to prove it with facts.
The analysis presented here has been divided into three main parts. The first is
dedicated to the history of Palazzo Spada-Veralli and the space where the building
DOI: 10.4324/9781003268550-13
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154 Ginevra Odone

stood, Piazza Colonna. A previous ephemeral façade realized in 1761 for this palace
will also be discussed. In the second part, we will focus specifically on the apparatus
commissioned by Cardinal De Solís, from the project to the realization and the study
of its aesthetics. To complete this research, the final section will unveil the “behind the
scenes” of this celebration of power by outlining the political aspects that pushed the
king of Spain to support the election of Pope Clement XIV in the conclave of 1769.
Piazza Colonna, Palazzo Spada-Veralli, and the Ephemeral Façade of 1761

To better understand the context of the installation presented in this article, we should
start from the place where Palazzo Spada- Veralli stood, namely Piazza Colonna.
This public space, together with other famous squares of the papal capital, was a
privileged place for sociability for the Romans and foreigners who resided in the
city. Furthermore, Piazza Colonna is located approximately in the middle of Via del
Corso, the main street that criss-crossed the city historical centre. The most important
festivals and ceremonies of the city were celebrated in this street: through it passed the
Berber horse race, which was held every year on Mardi Gras, immediately followed
by the feast of the “Moccoletti,” where the participants walked around, each holding
a small candle (“moccolo”).4 Just behind Piazza Colonna, we can also find Piazza
Montecitorio where, since the end of the 17th century, the public lottery draws took
place, attracting a great number of people hoping to be the lucky winners.5 Therefore,
Via del Corso and Piazza Colonna were points of great passage, and the whole area
was inhabited and frequented not only by numerous procurators and lawyers who
practiced at the courts of the Palazzo di Montecitorio, but also by aristocrats and
wealthy foreign travellers who rented the palaces in this neighbourhood, choosing to
live in one of the most active parts of the Eternal City. The square takes its name from the
column of Marcus Aurelius, the only element of the area that has remained unchanged
over the centuries, while all the buildings surrounding it have been transformed over
the time, as has been the case, for instance, for Palazzo Spada-Veralli.6 The latter was
designed by the architect Giacomo Della Porta (1532–1602) in 1594 for Monsignor
Cosimo Giustini (?–1602). In 1602, Giustini was brutally murdered and, according
to his last will, all his possessions were donated to two pious institutions, namely the
Collegio degli Orfani di Santa Maria in Aquiro and the Monastero di Santa Caterina
della Roma.7 The monastery decided to rent part of the building to obtain a financial
return, starting with its first tenant, Cardinal Roberto Bellarmino (1542– 1621),
who lived in the palace for about three years, from 1606 to 1609. However, after
this first rental experience, the Monastero di Santa Caterina decided to sell the property,
and it commenced negotiations with Ferdinando I de’ Medici, Grand Duke of
Tuscany (1549–1609). Unfortunately, he died a few weeks later before an agreement
was reached. A deal was thereafter concluded the same year with Fabrizio Veralli
(1560–1624), who was nominated cardinal the year before and wanted to celebrate
his election with this purchase. Cardinal Veralli lived in this building for several years,
until he died in 1624. At this point, the palace, together with the rich collection of
ancient paintings and marbles, became the dowry of the cardinal’s niece, Maria Veralli
(1616–1686) who, in 1636, married the roman nobleman Orazio Spada (1613–1687).8
In 1656, the building started to officially be recognized as Palazzo Spada-Veralli and
remained in the hands of the Spada family for several generations. Between the 17th
and 18th centuries, the building underwent various works of renovation: between
51
Ephemeral Façade of de Solis’s Palace 155
Figure 9.1 Israël Silvestre, Place de la Colonne Antoniane du Cours a Rome, 1643–1644,

etching, 211 × 330 mm, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, inv. 164631.
Palazzo Spada-Veralli appears on the right side of the print.
1731 and 1733, the Marquis Clemente Spada-Veralli (1679–1759) made substantial
changes to the structure to improve its functionality and favour the rental of the presti-
gious apartments into which it was divided, an activity that has always characterized
the history of the building.9 The palace remained in the Spada family until 1819,
when Luigi Boncompagni Ludovisi (1767–1841), prince of Piombino, bought it for
his family. Hereafter it came to be commonly known as Palazzo Piombino until its
expropriation in 1889 by the Rome city council, which demolished it as part of an
urban plan to celebrate the new Italian capital.10
Although it no longer exists, the exterior of Palazzo Spada- Veralli has been
represented several times over the centuries in engravings and paintings, allowing
us to admire its aspect. For instance, we can appreciate its shape in the 17th-century
engravings made by Israël Silvestre (1621–1691) and Giovanni Battista Falda (1643–
1678), or those of the 18th century by Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720–1778).11 In
the late 19th century, some photos of the building before its demolition were taken by
the Boncompagni Ludovisi family.12
All these engravings and photos show the structure’s simple and flat façade that
has remained almost unchanged over time, where the only note of movement is found
in the two large side doors. The structure consisted of three main levels: the lower
part included two main entrances with columns and caryatids, and several workshops
with their upper floor; the second order corresponded to the noble apartments, while
the third and last section, the uppermost one, housed the domestics, as was the norm
at the time. The roof presented an elevation in the central part. Given the generally
flat shape of the façade, the building presented the perfect base for the construction of
ephemeral apparatuses. Between the 20th and the 22nd of September 1761,
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Figure 9.2 Giovanni Battista Falda, Piazza Colonna su la via del Corso spianata et ampliata
da N. Sig. Papa Alessandro VII, 1665, etching, 446 × 331 mm, Providence, Brown
University Library, inv. 240532. Palazzo Spada-Veralli appears on the right side of
the print.
to celebrate the nomination to cardinal of Ignazio Michele Crivelli (1698–1768),

nephew of Pope Clement XIII Rezzonico (1758–1769), a temporary installation was
created for the palace where the new cardinal was living. The purpose was to share
with the public this happy event using the façade of Palazzo Spada-Veralli and the
facing Piazza Colonna as stages for these celebrations, considering that the public
square was a site of collective belonging, offering equal and free access to all citizens.13
This is also the reason why ephemeral apparatuses are never isolated structures but
are normally integrated in a larger public space where the event takes place, and the
participation of the public is highly encouraged. The use of music, lights, water, and
ephemeral structures on fountains and buildings were all instrumentals for the public’s
amusement, as clearly displayed in the engravings representing these events.14 For the
1761 project, Cardinal Crivelli entrusted to the architect Paolo Posi (1708–1776) the
design and supervision of the works for the ephemeral apparatuses.15 Starting from
the façade, the project presented a particular focus on the central part of the building,
where the space enclosed by the two side doors was richly decorated, leaving the rest
of the building mainly untouched. This central part protruded slightly from the ori-
ginal façade and was divided into two horizontal sections: the lower part echoed the
ground floor of the building using the same height and a similar rusticated effect dec-
oration, while the upper level covered both the noble and the third floor of Palazzo
Spada-Veralli. This last section was characterized by a symmetry composed of five
main openings, where the central one, larger than the others, portrayed on the top the
coat of arms of the Rezzonico family, referring to the family of both the cardinal and
the pope.
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This enormous apparatus is shown in the engraving by Giuseppe Vasi (1710–1782)
in which we note the desire to update the original 16th-century façade to a version
more like the Rococo style that was very fashionable at the time. From this engraving,
we can also see how Cardinal Crivelli did not limit himself to decorating the façade of
Palazzo Spada-Veralli, but also involved Piazza Colonna in the project. To do so, the
architect added a representation of Pegasus among the swans on the fountain, while
a small circular platform depicting Mount Parnassus and adorned with painted laurel
trees and with the statues of Apollo, Orpheus and the nine Muses, was erected for the
musicians at the base of the column of Marcus Aurelius. The picture represented by
Vasi allows us also to appreciate the great number of torches used to richly illuminate
the environment, on the different levels of the façade, but also in the decorations in
the square. It is easy to imagine that these lights were kept active all night long to
allow full enjoyment of the celebrations during the night hours of these last days of
summer 1761. In this way, Crivelli offered all the participants the opportunity to listen
to music, attend performances, and actively contribute to the party.
The 1769 Ephemeral Façade

The great ephemeral machine commissioned in 1769 by Cardinal de Solís is much
more complex and pronounced than that of Cardinal Crivelli, as the engraving of
Giovanni Ottaviani (c. 1735-1808) shows us.16
In fact, comparing the façade of Palazzo Spada-Veralli displayed in the engravings
by Giuseppe Vasi with the one realized by Ottaviani, we can fully appreciate these rich
embellishments. As was the tradition at the time, a dedicated long text was published
to describe the project in detail. In this case, we have two long descriptions published
in the same year, one in Italian and another in Spanish, explaining the decorative
choices.17 Recent studies completed by the author of this article has attributed the
Italian text to the Roman scholar Agostino Mariotti (1724–1806) who was also
the creator of the celebratory inscription present at the top of this same ephemeral
façade.18 Instead, the author of the Spanish version is still unknown.
From 10th August 1769, the day of Saint Laurent—in honour of the birth name of
the new pontiff, Lorenzo Ganganelli—and for the following two days, the ephemeral
façade of Palazzo Spada-Veralli was illuminated in the evening by 300 torches, while
music accompanied the personalities and the people of Rome who came to see the
show. Cardinal de Solís wanted to dress the palace for a specific political commemor-
ation, using art as a medium to show the relationship between the Roman Church and
the Kingdom of Spain, while offering to everyone the possibility to enjoy and celebrate
this union. The secondary objective was to win popularity for this diplomatic rela-
tionship in preparation for the next actions that were expected to follow, such as the
suppression of the Society of Jesus.
The project was designed by the architect Nicola Giansimoni (1727–1800),19 pupil
of the architect who realized the Trevi Fountain, Nicola Salvi (1697–1751). This was
not the first ephemeral apparatus for Giansimoni. In 1759, he had already designed
the scenography erected for the façade of Palazzo Ottoboni to commemorate the visit
to Rome of Cardinal Marino Priuli (1700–1772), while in 1786, the architect also
oversaw the preparations for the funeral ceremony for Maria Antonia Ferdinanda of
Spain (1729–1785) in the Church of the Most Holy Shroud in Argentina.20 For the de
Solís’s nomination, Giansimoni chose to give an austere appearance to the façade of
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Figure 9.3 Giovanni Ottaviani, Prospetto della facciata del palazzo d’abbitazione in Roma à
Piazza Colonna del emo, e rmo sig.r card. D. Francesco de Solís, arciv.o di Siviglia
fatta illuminare il di 10. 11. 12. Agosto 1769, 1769, etching, 538 x 769 mm, Los
Angeles, The Getty Research Institute, inv. P850003.
the building using a style that could be defined as neoclassical, while numerous other
decorations and embellishments were added in the square in front. Although only
eight years had passed since the apparatus was created for Cardinal Crivelli, the style
of the project realized by Giansimoni represented a renewed artistic approach that
overcame the sinuosity typical of the Rococo style. The choice of the neoclassical style
could have been influenced by the new trend of the time, but we may also imagine
that it was also specifically chosen to give even more solemnity to the relationship
between the Papacy and the Spanish kingdom. The architectural austerity is partly
balanced by the square which, although generally sober, underlined the festive aspect
of the celebrations with the presence of stages for the musicians and decorations on
the fountain. To complete the scenography, draperies were exposed at the windows
of the other buildings facing Piazza Colonna; this was probably also a way for the
neighbours to pay homage to the cardinal.
By studying Ottaviani’s engraving in more detail and referring to the descriptions
offered by Mariotti, we immediately notice how the temporary structure presents
a perfect symmetry between the left and right sides. Further, it entirely covered the
façade of Palazzo Spada-Veralli, both in length and in height, and was, therefore,
more massive than the project carried out in 1761 for Cardinal Crivelli. Once again,
we have two horizontal main sections, but this time their architectural orders are
different: the lower level is characterized by a Doric style, and it entirely covers the
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area normally reserved for the workshops, while the upper one, corresponding to the
noble and top floors, uses a composite order. The ground floor of the apparatus has a
portico with multiple accesses, both on the side of the façade and on the front. At the
correspondence of each of the two main entrance doors of the building, we have four
red granite columns, while additional columns and pillars of natural colours complete
the rest of the composition. This structure was designed to offer a covered pathway
to the pedestrians, allowing the people passing by via del Corso to enjoy the show,
but also to push into the background the workshops, like the barber or the roasting
shops, that had to be hidden for aesthetic reasons.21 This ground floor did not present
any specific symbolic characteristics, with the only exception being the columns and
pillars that were decorated with some festoons of oak leaves, typically representing
a symbol of strength, but also a possible reminder of some Spanish cities. The focus
of the viewer needed, in fact, to be redirected mainly to the second order, which was
instead rich in figurative and descriptive elements referring to the new pontiff and to
the Spanish nation.
This second level consisted of a long balcony that ran the entire length of the
building, covering the lower-level portico in its entirety. While in the central part the
balcony a covered loggia forms, on the sides we have two open terraces, one per
side of the façade. Two additional small balconies covered the two main entrances
of the palace, continuing the sense of movement desired by the architect Giansimoni.
This floor amplified the link between the building and the square in front, allowing
people walking on it to admire the celebrations held in the square from a privileged
point of view.22 The loggia consisted of ten columns of antique yellow marble, which
enclosed five large openings. In the centre, it is possible to recognize the portrait in an
oval frame of Clement XIV, represented in his classical iconography: he is depicted in
three-quarters on a neutral background and in the act of blessing, as in the canonical
iconography institutionalized by the pope himself and realized by the Venetian painter
Giovanni Domenico Porta (1722–1780), the official portraitist also of popes Clement
XIII and Pius VI (1775–1799).23 This portrait was surrounded by garlands, two putti
couples and two half-busts of unknown subjects, all probably in plaster. Beneath this
section, a relief of 117 palms (about 26 metres) followed the whole length of the
central balcony, but the scene presented is unfortunately unclear from the engraving.
However, the description given by the scholar Agostino Mariotti supports our analysis
here. Thanks to this written testimony, we know that this relief depicted the personi-
fication of Spain in the guise of the goddess Pallas sided by Hercules, who symbolized
the Strait of Gibraltar. In addition, a lion, another symbol of the Spanish nation, was
represented surrounded by the 15 Provinces of Spain that pay tribute to their country.
On the two sides of the relief, the most important land and sea victories of the Spanish
nation were shown.
At the extremes of the loggia, above the small balconies in correspondence to the
main entrances of the palace, the coats of arms of Pope Clement XIV and of King
Charles III of Spain are displayed. The first one, presented on the left side of the
façade, was formed in the upper section by the arms of Jesus Christ and Saint Francis
surmounted by a cross, recognized as the symbol of the Franciscan Order to which the
pontiff belonged, while on the bottom there were three golden stars, a red band, and
three golden mountains forming the emblem of the Ganganelli family. On the other
hand, the coat of arms of the King of Spain was much more complex and composed
of a shield with all the territories linked to the ancestors of Charles III, surrounded
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by the collars of the Golden Fleece and that of the French Order of the Holy Spirit.
The presence of both coats of arms is of particular interest in this case. During the
celebrations for the nomination of a new foreign cardinal, the emblem of his country
of origin was normally not present. For example, on the ephemeral façade realized in
1761 to celebrate the appointment of the French Cardinal Jean-François-Joseph de
Rochechouart (1708–1777), the reigning pontiff Clement XIII and the Church were
exalted with their virtues, but no reference to the French nation was displayed.24 De
Solís, on the other hand, wanted to highlight the importance of Spain and, specifically,
to honour the figure of Charles III, positioning him on the same level as the newly
elected pontiff.
The façade was completed on the upper order by a rich decoration. Above the
loggia, a long frieze ran along the entire length of the building, and it is possible to rec-
ognize in this embellishment the symbol of the sun, a clear reference to the surname of
Cardinal de Solís. On the top level, corresponding to the attic of the ephemeral struc-
ture, we have ten marble statues representing the virtues dear to the cardinal: Faith,
Hope, Charity, Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, Tranquillity, Clemency,
and Meekness. Between these virtues, four marble reliefs are carved, expressing the
Propagation of the Christian Faith, the Roman Church illuminated by the three theo-
logical virtues, the Exaltation of humanity, and the Wretchedness of the human condi-
tion (“Disprezzo del mondo”).25 At the centre of these reliefs, the fifth square presented
the inscription written by Mariotti and dedicated to Clement XIV:
CLEMENTI XIV OPTIMO MAXIMOQVE PONTIFICI /AFFLATU

DIVINITATIS /AD PETRI SEDEM EVECTO /POLITISSIMI INGENII
PRAESTANTISQUE DOCTRINAE /VIRO /DOMI FORISQUE CARISSIMO
/FRANCISCUS DE SOLIS S. R. E. CARD. ARCH. HISPALEN. /D. N. M. Q.
E. LIBENS MERITO PLAUDIT.26
The inscription celebrated the greatness of the sovereign, his intellect, and his
pious doctrine. This homage to the new pontiff is surmounted by a marble statue
representing Peace holding an olive branch, a concept placed in the protection of the
whole structure and the related celebrations, but probably also to protect and preserve
the communion between the Papacy and the Kingdom of Spain. To further attract the
attention of the pedestrians and also to make the structure visible during the night
hours, the façades were illuminated by 300 torches distributed along with the bal-
conies and on the roof of the building.
As we have seen, the project was not only extremely rich from an aesthetics point
of view, but it was also designed to promote the direct interaction of the audience with
the temporary structure. In fact, the covered pathway for the pedestrians on the ground
floor, as well as the balcony on the first level, invited the spectators to become an active
part of the artistic process of the ephemeral apparatus. This interaction with the public
was even more present in the space in front of the façade, namely Piazza Colonna. This
square is still formed today by a large rectangular space with the column of Marcus
Aurelius in the centre and the large fountain built by Giacomo Della Porta. As part of
the ephemeral apparatus, this fountain was decorated with various elements in gold
colour or with shells, to recall the goods exported from the provinces of Spain and the
Americas. The Spanish nation was also depicted in the centre of the fountain where
there is a personification of the Guadalquivir River, one of the main rivers of Spain that
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becomes navigable from Seville, the city of which Cardinal de Solís was archbishop.
Finally, on the sides of the fountain, three stages for the orchestra were built for the
occasion, decorated with blue fabrics and golden fringes. It is also interesting to note
that in Ottaviani’s engraving, in addition to the people who crowded the square or who
are on the palace balconies, there are also two people depicted on the top of Marcus
Aurelius’ column. This should not be surprising as the column has been accessible for
centuries to passers-by who wanted to enjoy the view of the square from a privileged
point of view, probably in exchange for money.27 This opportunity made it possible for
revellers to enjoy the ephemeral apparatus from all the possible perspectives, creating
a further circular flow that linked the building with the public space in front. But what
was the message behind this apparatus? To better understand it, we need to move from
the aesthesis description to the political context of the time.
The Political Background Behind the Façade of Cardinal de Solís

The King of Spain Charles III was among the most bitter enemies of the Company
of Jesus. Probably envious of the wealth and power that the members of the Society
had collected, the Spanish sovereign needed the Pope’s support to officially suppress
the whole Order and re-establish his supremacy. For this reason, after the death of
Clement XIII in 1769, he sent Cardinal de Solís to Rome. At the time, de Solís was one
of the closer figures to the King, and consequently, he was appointed archbishop of
Trajanopoli (1749), bishop of Cordoba (1752), and archbishop of Seville (1755). He
was also nominated as cardinal by Pope Benedict XIV (1740–1758) during the consis-
tory of 5th April 1756, but, strangely, he did not come to Rome to celebrate his new
title as the other cardinals did. The neo-appointed Spanish cardinal did not even par-
ticipate in the Conclave of 1758 that declared the election of Pope Clement XIII after
Benedict XIV’s death. De Solís finally went to Rome for the first time after his cardinal
nomination in 1769 to participate in the Conclave of that year. Today, we know that
this journey was obviously not a coincidence but was instead planned by Charles III to
impose an important Spanish influence during the negotiation with the other cardinals
and to push for the election of a pope in line with his politics. The election to the papal
throne of Clement XIV came at a crucial moment in the history of the Church and the
Society of Jesus. From 1759, during the pontificate of the previous pontiff Clement
XIII, the members of the Company had been expelled from Portugal, then from other
European countries such as France (1764), Spain and its colonies (1767) as well as
from the Duchy of Parma (1768). The pressure on Clement XIII to suppress the Order
became more and more insistent from numerous European sovereigns. It is not sur-
prising, then, that the 1769 papal Conclave was almost completely dominated by the
dispute concerning the Society of Jesus. On this occasion, the cardinals present were
obviously divided into two parties: those who were pro-Jesuits and those who were
anti-Jesuits. While those in favour were a minority, the second block was dominated
by the intermediaries sent to the Conclave by the most important Catholic powers at
the time, such as sovereigns Joseph I of Portugal (1750–1777), Louis XV of France
(1722–1774), and, of course, Charles III of Spain. The anti-Jesuit block was more
prominent in the Conclave and reached an agreement for the election of Lorenzo
Ganganelli as the new pontiff.
Francisco de Solís had the very delicate task of serving as a link between the King of
Spain and the future Pope: the former, together with the French and Portugal’s courts,
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would have supported the election of Ganganelli in exchange for the suppression of
the Society of Jesus.28 In fact, the balance of power allowed the Catholic Kingdoms to
influence the results of a Conclave, thanks to the intermediation of their cardinals. To
bolster their persuasion, these sovereigns also threatened to provoke a new schism—
worse than that of the Protestants—if a pope opposing the suppression of the Jesuits
was nominated.29 De Solís managed to get an agreement with Ganganelli and because
he was officially considered as neutral about the Jesuits dispute and potentially easy to
manipulate, his election was approved by both opposing factions. Soon after the end
of the Conclave, Charles III began to put pressure on the new pontiff using every pre-
text and every occasion available, including through the artistic medium as we have
seen with the façade of Cardinal de Solís. It is worth noting that even the architect and
scholars who took part in the design of the façade were not random choices; they were
all part of the anti-Jesuit circle. For example, the relationship between the Roman
scholar Agostino Mariotti and the Kingdom of Spain was already well established. As
abbot and lawyer for the Sacred Congregation of Rites, the congregation in charge
of the process of canonization of saints, Mariotti began his relationship with Spain
during the cause for the beatification of Juan de Palafox y Mendoza (1600–1659),
bishop of Puebla in Los Angeles (Mexico), and then of Osma (Spain). Palafox was a
particularly contested figure due to his vivid disputes with the Jesuits during his life,
and hence it is not surprising that his beatification process was supported on one side
by Charles III of Spain, but on the other obstructed by the partisans of Ignatius of
Loyola (1491–1556). Moreover, Mariotti was directly involved in the dissolution of
the Society of Jesus, and his name appears in correspondence between the Spanish
ambassadors Manuel de Roda y Arrieta (1708–1782) and José Nicolás de Azara
(1730–1804), both implicated in the suppression cause. From other sources, we also
know that Agostino Mariotti was associated with the sale of part of the Jesuit assets.
All these professional ties were followed by exchanges of personal gifts, mainly books,
to Spanish ambassadors and delegates who lived in Rome, all belonging to the anti-
Jesuit group. A poem written by Mariotti to celebrate the wedding of Maria Antonia
Ferdinanda of Spain also testified to this relationship, as do two epigrams for the
Spanish sovereign, one written to remember Charles III after his death and a second
to celebrate the coronation of his son, Charles IV (1748–1819), in 1788.30
Concerning Nicola Giansimoni, the architect of reference for the design of
Cardinal de Solís’ façade, we know that he was not directly linked to the anti-Jesuits.
Nevertheless, he was a long-time friend of Agostino Mariotti, and the two had already
worked together on previous occasions. This connection leads us to believe that it was
the same Mariotti who suggested the name of this architect for the Palazzo Spada-
Veralli project and the funeral ceremony for the death of Maria Antonia Ferdinanda
of Spain.
Despite all the pressures and the agreement with Spain that had allowed his papal
election, Ganganelli tried to postpone the suppression of the Jesuit Order, but he only
resisted four years before ceding. In 1773, Clement XIV finally honoured the deal by
suppressing the Company of Jesus with the papal bull “Dominus ac Redemptor.”
Conclusion
Despite its official motivation being to celebrate the nomination of Cardinal de
Solís, realistically, the 1769 ephemeral apparatus of Palazzo Spada-Veralli must be
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considered a celebration for the election of the new pontiff and as a medium to dis-
play his relationships with Spain. This façade was a hymn to the bond that existed
between the Papacy and the Spanish nation: on one hand, it served to remind the
pontiff who had supported his election to the throne of Saint Peter, while on the
other hand, it served to promote the propaganda message that Spain was a great and
influent power. These messages were expressed particularly by the coat of arms of the
Spanish sovereign being placed in parallel with that of the pontiff. It is also important
to highlight how the cardinal adopted all the elements of tradition, such as the façade,
the decorations of the fountain, the stage for the musicians, and so on, but also delib-
erately amplified the result by using an installation more impressive in size and style
than other contemporary ones, such as that of Crivelli. To impress the public, even
more, the apparatus invited the audience to directly interact with it and fully enjoy
the experience by walking across the portico or by ascending to the balconies to profit
from the higher view on the facing square. This interaction is even more remarkable in
the space of Piazza Colonna given that the musicians had not just one, but three stages
to make the music accessible to as many people as possible.
The project discussed in this chapter is a good example of how arts and politics
can interact in a strong relationship even for ephemeral displays that are expected to
exist for only a very limited timeframe. Despite being designed as only a temporary
event, the works of artists and scholars such as Ottaviani and Mariotti have helped to
preserve this project in time, making it eternal.
Notes
1 The production on ephemeral apparatuses and on “case studies” is very vast; here, we limit
ourselves to reporting the most famous texts: A. Chastel, “Les entrées de Charles Quint
en Italie in Les fêtes de la Renaissance,” Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint,
edited by J. Jacquot (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1960): 197–206;
L. Fiorani, Riti, cerimonie, feste e vita di popolo nella Roma dei papi (Bologne: Cappelli,
1970); M. Fagiolo dell’Arco, “Quarant’hore, fochi d’allegrezza, catafalchi, mascherate e cose
simili.” “Dall’effimero alla struttura stabile in Roma Barocca,” in Ricerche di storia dell’arte,
1–2 (1976): 45–70; ID., S. Carandini, L’Effimero Barocco. Strutture della festa nella Roma
del ‘600, 2 vol. (Rome: Bulzoni, 1977); M. Fagiolo (ed.), Barocco romano e barocco italiano.
Il teatro, l’effimero, l’allegoria (Rome: Gangemi, 1985); M. Fagiolo dell’Arco, Bibliografia
della festa barocca a Roma (Rome: Pettini, 1994); ID., M. Fagiolo, Corpus delle feste a Roma
(Rome: De Luca, 1997), 2 vol. (La festa barocca and Il Settecento e l’Ottocento); M. Serio,
Studi sul Barocco romano: scritti in onore di Maurizio Fagiolo dell’Arco (Milan: Skira,
2004) and, more recent, Maria Matilde Simari and Alessandra Griffo (ed.), Il carro d’oro
di Johann Paul Schor. L’effimero splendore dei carnevali barocchi, exhibition catalogue
(Florence, Palazzo Pitti, 20 February 2019 –5 May 2019) (Livorno: Sillabe, 2019).
2 M. Boiteux, “Oltre la facciata. Architettura e tempo,” Scritti per Mario Manieri Elia,
edited by F. Cellini and M.M. Segarra Lagunes (Rome: Roma Tre-Press, 2015): 323–360
[350–355].
3 M. Fagiolo and M. Fagiolo dell’Arco, Corpus delle feste a Roma, II vol, (Rome: De Luca,
1997): 192.
4 M. Moriconi, “Il Corso. Dal Carnevale alla festa politica,” La Festa a Roma dal
Rinascimento al 1870, I, edited by M. Fagiolo (Torino: Umberto Allemandi & C. per
J. Sands): 168–181.
5 J.D. Draper, “The Lottery in Piazza di Montecitorio,” Master Drawings, VII, n. 1 (1969): 27–
34, 79–88.
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6 For the history of the Palazzo Spada-Veralli, see D. Tesoroni, Il Palazzo Piombino di piazza
Colonna. Notizie e documenti (Rome, 1894): 5, 27–28; R. Lanciani, “La via del Corso
dirizzata e abbellita nel 1538 da Paolo III,” Bullettino della Commissione archeologica
comunale di Roma, XXX (1902): 242; ID., “La collezione statuaria di Cosimo Giustini
e le recenti scoperte in piazza Colonna,” in Bullettino della Commissione archeologica
comunale di Roma, XLII (1914): 15; L. Neppi, Palazzo Spada (Rome, 1975): 144–146;
R. Cannatà e M. L. Vicini, La Galleria di Palazzo Spada. Genesi e Storia di una Collezione
(Rome: Edizioni d’Europa 1993): 89– 103; A. Pampalone, “Un episodio di restauro
settecentesco in un edificio distrutto: palazzo Spada Veralli (poi Piombino) a piazza
Colonna,” Roma borghese. Case e palazzetti d’affitto, II, edited by E. Debenedetti (Rome,
Quasar Edizioni 1995): 109–125 and R. Lefevre, “1889: Rodolfo Lanciani e il palazzo
Piombino di piazza Colonna,” Strenna dei Romanisti, LVIII (1997): 233–237.
7 A. Pampalone, “Un episodio di restauro settecentesco,” op. cit., p. 109.
8 L. Buccino, “L’area di Piazza Colonna in età imperiale: sculture esibite e sculture ritrovate
a Piazza Colonna/The Area of Piazza Colonna in the Imperial Age: Sculptures Displayed
and Sculptures Discovered in Piazza Colonna,” La galleria di Piazza Colonna, edited by
C. Olmo (Torino: Alemandi & C., 2011): 213–228 [217–220].
9 The building had been restored precisely in keeping with the owner’s aim to enter the luxury
rental market in Rome. The clientele, in fact, appreciated the location of the building, but
the structure was also inhabited by a more modest social class, lowering the value of the
rent. See A. Pampalone, “Un episodio di restauro settecentesco,” op. cit., pp. 118–119 and
E. Debenedetti, “Roma Borghese, una città in evoluzione,” Studi sul Settecento romano, X
(1994): 15–23.
10 R. Lefevre, “1889: Rodolfo Lanciani,” op. cit., pp. 233–237.
11 This engraving can be found on the Calcografia website: www.calcografi ca.it/stampe/inv
entario.php?id=S-CL2415_19409.
12 A large amount of information about the building, and in particular, the events that concern
it since it was acquired by the Boncompagni-Ludovisi family, are available on the website
“Archivio Digitale Boncompagni Ludovisi”: https://villaludovisi.org/.
13 F. Tonkiss, Space, the City and Social Theory. Social Relations and Urban Forms
(Cambridge: Polity Press, 2005): 67–68.
14 G. Mitrache, “Architecture, art, public space,” in Procedia. Social and Behavioral Sciences,
LI (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2012): 552–566 [552–553].
15 M. Fagiolo dell’Arco and M. Fagiolo, Corpus delle feste…op. cit., p. 171 and M. Boiteux,
“Oltre la facciata. Architettura e tempo,” op. cit., p. 353.
16 M.R., Cinquegrano, “Giovanni Ottaviani incisore romano: un artista dimenticato,” Grafica
d’arte, 61 (2005): pp. 18–24. Giovanni Ottaviani was also famous for the colour engravings
of Raphael’s Loggie made together with Giovanni Volpato, see Corinna Höper, Raffael
and the consequences. The work of art in ages of its graphic reproducibility, catalogue
exhibition (Stuttgart, Staatsgalerie, 26 May–22 July 2001), Ostfildern-Ruit: Hatje Cantz
(2001): 105 and 472–480.
17 A. Mariotti, Descrizione della magnifica, e celebre facciata eretta nel palazzo
dell’Eminentissimo Principe il Signor Cardinale D. Francesco de Solís arcivescovi di Siviglia
etc. etc. Il di X Agosto MDCCLXIX in piazza Colonna (Roma: Giovanni Bartolomicchio
incontro a Fiano, 1769). The Spanish text give the same information of the Italian one: Breve
description de la magnifica Fachada erijida delante del palacio del Emo, I Reverendissimo
Senor D. Francesco de Solís Folch de Cardona etc. cardinal de la Santa Romana Yglesia
Basilica de los Doce Santos Apostoles (Rome: en la imprenta de Generoso Salomoni, 1769).
18 Agostino Mariotti was above all famous for his art collection. This collection of “primi-
tive” Italian artists has been treated in G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi. Da Vasari ai
neoclassici (Turin: Giulio Einaudi Editore, 1989 [1964]): 227, n. 1–4 and p. 230; F. Todini,
“Agostino Mariotti: un collezionista nella Roma settecentesca,” Antologia di Belle Arti,
5
6
1

XIII-XIV (1980): 27–37 and A. Tartuferi, G. Tormen (eds.), La fortuna dei primitivi. Tesori
d’arte dalle collezioni italiane fra Sette e Ottocento, exhibition catalogue (Florence, Gallerie
dell’Accademia, 24 June–8 December 2014) (Florence: Giunti Editore, 2014): 135–145.
For an in-depth study and analysis of the figure and the whole of the Mariotti collection,
see G. Odone, L’avocat Agostino Mariotti (1724-1806) et son musée, «une des curiosités de
Rome» (PhD thesis in co-tutorship, Université de Lorraine/Sapienza Università di Roma),
presented on 16 December 2020, 2 vols., 752 p.
19 G. Moroni, Dizionario di erudizione storico-ecclesiastica, LI, p. 5; LV, p. 255; LXXXIX,
pp. 180 s., 230 s., 233; D. Porro, “Lo scalone del palazzo Barberini ai Giubbonari e alter
opera di Nicola Giansimoni architetto,” in Studi romani. Indici, XXXIV (1986): 95–106;
C. Berna, “Nicola Giansimoni, architetto del secondo Settecento romano,” Arte cristiana,
LXXXV (1997): 782, 357– 368; C. Pantanella, “Un palazzetto del Monte di Pietà, il
‘Montevecchio’ a via de’ Coronari,” Studi sul Settecento romano, XI (1995): 211–223;
G. Bonaccorso, “GIANSIMONI, Nicola,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, LIV,
2000: www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/nicola-giansimoni_%28Dizionario-Biografi co%29/.
20 For these two other ephemeral apparatus, see D. Porro, “Lo scalone del palazzo Barberini,”
op. cit., pp. 105– 106; M. Fagiolo, M. Fagiolo dell’Arco, Corpus delle feste a Roma,
I (Rome: De Luca, 1997): 166 and 234.
21 A. Pampalone, “Un episodio di restauro settecentesco,” op. cit., pp. 115–116.
22 D. Porro, “Lo scalone del palazzo Barberini ai Giubbonari,” op. cit., p. 105.
23 O. Michel, “Giovanni Domenico Porta,” Melanges d’Archeologie et d’Histoire, LXXX, 1
(1968): 283–354 and A. Brogi, “Giovanni Domenico Porta: un ritratto di papa Clemente
XIV,” in Storia dell’arte, n. s., II, pp. 101–113.
24 M. Fagiolo dell’Arco, M. Fagiolo, Corpus delle feste…op. cit., pp. 171–172.
25 A. Mariotti, Breve descrizione…op. cit., p. VI. The “disprezzo del mondo” (Contempt of
the world) may refer to the Liber de contemptu mundi, a religious text of the 12th century
written by Pope Innocent III (1198–1216).
26 Clement XIV excellent and great pontiff inspired by God symbolizes the chair of Saint.
Peter, a man of lucid intelligence and exceptional teaching. Beloved both at home and
abroad, a pious, positive, and excellent prince. Francesco de Solís S. R. E. Spanish Cardinal
and archbishop devoted to his majesty applauds very rightly.
27 The column had been “rented” since the 10th century, when it was decided that it would be
under the direct supervision of the monks of the monastery of San Silvestro in Capite. The
monks left a guardian to take care of the ordinary management, but he soon realized that
he could get paid by passers-by who wanted to have an unusual panorama of the square
and of Rome. This lasted until the monks noticed that all custodians who alternated over
the years made people go up in exchange for money. At that time, a chapel was built near
the basement of the column and stayed there till the 16th century. In the 18th century, the
internal part of the base was used as a barber’s shop or as a café, so it is easy to imagine
that these passenger “owners” also allowed themselves to be paid to take tourists to the
top of the column, as we can appreciate in this engraving. See C. Fea, Storia delle arti
del disegno presso gli antichi di Giovanni Winkelmann tradotta dal Tedesco e in questa
edizione corretta ed aumentata dall’abate Carlo Fea giureconsulto (Roma: Salla Stamperia
Pagliarini, 1784): p. 336 e p. 407; C. Rendina, Alla scoperta di Roma. Oltre duecento
“cartoline romane” che rivelano gli aspetti meno noti, i luoghi scomparsi, i personaggi,
i racconti e I segreti di una città dalla storia millenaria (Rome: Newton & Compton,
2007): 24.
28 The bibliography on the subject is very extensive; here some of the best-known texts are
cited: J. Crétineau-Joly, Clément XIV et les Jésuites, ou, Histoire de la destruction des
Jésuites: composée sur les documents inédits et authentiques (Paris: Mellier, 1848); L. Berra,
“Il diario del conclave di Clemente XIV del cardinale Filippo Maria Pirelli,” Archivio della
Società romana di Storia patria, LXXXV-LXXXVI (1962–1963): 25–319. The relations
61
166 Ginevra Odone

between Clement XIV and Spain were addressed in J.N. de Azara, El espiritu de D. José
Nicolas de Azara, descubierto en su Correspondencia epistolar con Don Manuel de Roda,
I-II (Madrid: Imp. de J. Martín Alegria, 1846). For a more updated bibliography, see
M. Mörner, “The Expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain and Spanish America in 1767 in Light
of Eighteenth-Century Regalism,” The Americas, XXIII, n. 2 (1966): 156–164; N. Guasti,
“L’esito italiano dei Gesuiti spagnoli. Identità, controllo sociale e pratiche culturali (1767-
1798),” in Settecento italiano (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2006); C. Knight,
“Perché nel 1773 Carlo III costrinse Clemente XIV a sopprimere l’Ordine dei Gesuiti?,”
Rendiconti della Accademia di Archeologia Lettere e Belle Arti, n. s., LXXIX (2018–
2019): 1–11 [5–9].
29 L. Berra, “Il diario del conclave,” op. cit., pp. 247–248; C. Knight, “Perché nel 1773 Carlo
III costrinse Clemente XIV a sopprimere l’Ordine dei Gesuiti?” op. cit., p. 5.
30 A. Mariotti, Per le augustissime nozze delle altezze reali di Vittorio Amedeo, duca di
Savoja, e Maria Antonia Ferdinanda, infanta di Spagna (Rome: nella stamperia di
Antonio Rossi, 1750): 76–80; ID., Per il solenne funerale di Carlo III cattolico fatto con
inusitata magnificenza dalla nazione spagnuola nella chiesa de’ SS. Giacomo e Idelfonso
(Rome: per Antonio Fulgoni, 1789) and ID., Per il solenne rendimento di grazie date a
Dio dell’esaltazione al trono di Carlo IV re cattolico il dì 21 settembre nella Regia Chiesa
Parrocchiale di S. Maria in Madrid (Rome, per Antonio Fulgoni, 1789).
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by Paolo Belardi (Rome: Gangemi editore, 2019): 317–324.
Cristina Berna, “Nicola Giansimoni, architetto del secondo Settecento romano,” Arte cristiana,
LXXXV (1997): 357–368.
Luigi Berra, “Il diario del conclave di Clemente XIV del cardinale Filippo Maria Pirelli,”
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Breve description de la magnifica Fachada erijida delante del palacio del Emo, I Reverendissimo
Senor D. Francesco de Solís Folch de Cardona etc. cardinal de la Santa Romana Yglesia
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(Rome: Gangemi, 1985).
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simili.” Dall’effimero alla struttura stabile in Roma Barocca,” Ricerche di storia dell’arte,
1-2 (1976): 45–70.
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Roma del ‘600, 2 vol. (Rome: Bulzoni, 1977).
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dal Tedesco e in questa edizione corretta ed aumentata dall’abate Carlo Fea giureconsulto
(Roma: Salla Stamperia Pagliarini, 1784).
Luigi Fiorani, Riti, cerimonie, feste e vita di popolo nella Roma dei papi (Bologne: Cappelli, 1970).
Niccolò Guasti, “L’esito italiano dei Gesuiti spagnoli. Identità, controllo sociale e pratiche
culturali (1767-1798),” Settecento italiano (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2006).
Corinna Höper, Raffael and the consequences. The work of art in ages of its graphic repro-
ducibility, catalogue exhibition, Stuttgart, Staatsgalerie, 26 May–22 July 2001 (Ostfildern-
Ruit: Hatje Cantz, 2001).
Carlo Knight, “Perché nel 1773 Carlo III costrinse Clemente XIV a sopprimere l’Ordine dei
Gesuiti?,” Rendiconti della Accademia di Archeologia Lettere e Belle Arti, n. s., LXXIX
(2018–2019): 1–11.
Rodolfo Lanciani, La via del Corso dirizzata e abbellita nel 1538 da Paolo III (Roma: Tipografia
della Real Accademia dei Lincei, 1903).
Rodolfo Lanciani, “La collezione statuaria di Cosimo Giustini e le recenti scoperte in piazza
Colonna,” Bullettino della Commissione archeologica comunale di Roma, XLII (1914).
Renato Lefevre, “1889: Rodolfo Lanciani e il palazzo Piombino di piazza Colonna,” Strenna dei
Romanisti, LVIII (1997): 233–237.
Agostino Mariotti, Per le augustissime nozze delle altezze reali di Vittorio Amedeo, duca di
Savoja, e Maria Antonia Ferdinanda, infanta di Spagna (Rome: nella stamperia di Antonio
Rossi, 1750): 76–80.
Agostino Mariotti, Descrizione della magnifica, e celebre facciata eretta nel palazzo
dell’Eminentissimo Principe il Signor Cardinale D. Francesco de Solís arcivescovi di Siviglia
etc. etc. Il di X Agosto MDCCLXIX in piazza Colonna (Roma: Giovanni Bartolomicchio
incontro a Fiano, 1769).
Agostino Mariotti, Per il solenne funerale di Carlo III cattolico fatto con inusitata magnificenza
dalla nazione spagnuola nella chiesa de’ SS (Giacomo e Idelfonso, Rome, per Antonio
Fulgoni, 1789).
Agostino Mariotti, Per il solenne rendimento di grazie date a Dio dell’esaltazione al trono
di Carlo IV re cattolico il dì 21 settembre nella Regia Chiesa Parrocchiale di S (Maria in
Madrid, Rome, per Antonio Fulgoni, 1789).
Olivier Michel, “Giovanni Domenico Porta,” Melanges d’Archeologie et d’Histoire, LXXX, 1
(1968): pp. 283–354.
8
6
1
168 Ginevra Odone

Georgica Mitrache, “Architecture, Art, Public Space,” Procedia. Social and Behavioral Sciences,
edited by Wan Fara Adlina Wan Mansor, Mohamad Hassan Zakaria, Adlina Abdul Samad,
and Noor Aireen Ibrahim (LI, Amsterdam: Elsevier, 2012): 552– 566 [DOI: 10.1016/
j.sbspro.2012.08.206].
Monica Moriconi, “Il Corso. Dal Carnevale alla festa politica,” La Festa a Roma dal
Rinascimento al 1870, I, edited by M. Fagiolo (Torino: Umberto Allemandi & C. per
J. Sands, 1997): 168–181.
Magnus Mörner, “The Expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain and Spanish America in 1767 in
Light of Eighteenth-Century Regalism,” The Americas, XXIII, n. 2 (1966): 156–164.
Gaetano Moroni, Dizionario di erudizione storico-ecclesiastica, LI, p. 5; LV, p. 255; LXXXIX,
pp. 180 s., 230 s., 233, 1851.
Lionello Neppi, Palazzo Spada (Rome: Editalia, 1975).
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Rome” (PhD thesis in co-tutorship, Université de Lorraine/Sapienza Università di Roma),
2 vols., p. 752, 2020.
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Spada Veralli (poi Piombino) a piazza Colonna,” Roma borghese. Case e palazzetti d’affitto,
II, edited by Debenedetti Elisa (Rome: Quasar Edizioni,1995): 109–125.
Cristina Pantanella, “Un palazzetto del Monte di Pietà, il “Montevecchio” a via de’ Coronari,”
Studi sul Settecento romano, XI (1995): 211–223.
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Giansimoni architetto,” Studi romani. Indici, XXXIV (1986): 95–106.
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Editore, 1989 [1964]).
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aspetti meno noti, i luoghi scomparsi, i personaggi, i racconti e I segreti di una città dalla
storia millenaria (Roma: Newton & Compton, 2007).
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Roma e Firenze,” Il carro d’oro di Johann Paul Schor. L’effimero splendore dei carnevali
barocchi, edited by Maria Matilde Simari and Alessandra Griffo, exhibition catalogue
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(Milan: Skira, 2004).
Angelo Tartuferi and Gianluca Tormen (eds.), La fortuna dei primitivi. Tesori d’arte
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Belle Arti, XIII–XIV (1980): 27–37.
Fran Tonkiss, Space, the City and Social Theory. Social Relations and Urban Forms
(Cambridge: Polity Press, 2005).
9
6
1
Index
Algardi, A. 100 Evans, M. 103, 108

Ajmar-Wollheim, M. 9n4, 10, 81n7, 85, 126
Audran, C. 141 Fagiolo dell’Arco, M. 9, 10, 166–8, 170
Falda, G. B. 156, 157
Bailly, N. 90, 103n2, 108 Farfán, T. 5, 131, 133–4, 136, 139–45,
Bernini, G. L. 92 147–8, 150–3
Böhme, G. 146, 151 Feigenbaum, G. 8, 10, 82–3, 85
Boucher, 44, 46–7, 51n45, 95 Findlen, P. 82, 85
Bowie, K. 16, 34n9, 37 Fürttenbach, J. 80, 84
Brereton, W. 31, 37n74
Burke, P. 54, 63, 67–8, 138, 147, 151 Gabriel, A. J. 88, 95–7
Ganganelli, L. 158, 161, 163–4
Canaletto, 5 Giansimoni, N. 158, 160–1, 164, 168–9
Castelluccio, S. 87–8, 90, 95 103, 105–7 Gibson-Wood, C. 20, 33, 35, 38
Challe, C. M. A. 42 Girardon, 57, 63, 99, 100, 105, 108
Chardin, J-B. S. 6, 43, 50 Girault, P-G. 123
Chastel, A. 169 Girouard, M. 82–3, 85
Clarke, G. 81n7, 85 Giustiniani, V. 83
Coeke van Aelst, P. 91 Gonzaga, F. 8, 78–80, 84, 155
Coeur, J. 113–14, 116, 123, 127 Gonzaga, V. 78
Colbert, J-B. 55–7, 67–8, 87, 102, 104, 108 Grimm, F. M. 46
Cowan, B. 33–4, 37
Coypel, N. 63–4, 68–9, 95–6, 104, 107 Habermas, J. 3
Crawley, G. 135, 146, 151 Hann, R. 133, 146, 152
Crivelli, I. M. 157–8, 160, 166 Haskell, F. 3, 8, 9, 11
Cronstrom, D. 57 Huquier, J. G. 42–3, 49–50, 53
Crow, T. 3, 8, 10, 54, 59, 64, 67–8
Jamesone, G. 27, 37–8
Davallon, J. 48–9, 52
de Bray, D. 30, 31 Koch, G. F. 3, 8, 10
de Froment, G. 41, 43–4, 46–7, 49–53
Della Bella, S. 9, 11 La Font de Saint-Yenne, E. 42, 44–7, 49,
de Montaigne, M. 26, 36 51–3, 96
Dennis, F. 10, 81, 85, 116, 124, 126 Le Brun, C. 55, 91, 94
de Piles, R. 65, 68–9 Le Blond, G. M. 99, 105, 108
de Saint-Aubin, G. 39, 48 Le Corbusier, 77–8, 83–6
de Solís, F. 6, 154–5, 158, 160, 162–4, Lanciani, R. 167, 170
167–70 Langlois, N. 59–61, 63, 69
de Valdés Leal, J. 134, 136–7, 139 Laugier, M-A. 43
de Ville-d’Avray, M-A. T. 88, 96, 102 Lemoyne, F. 6
de Vizé, D. 93, 104, 108 Lillie, A. 8, 11
Didi-Huberman, G. 147 Locke, J. 20, 35
Dyer, G. 33, 37–8 Luckhurst, K. 11
0
7
1
170 Index
Mandressi, R. 139, 147, 152 Quiccheberg, S. 27, 36, 38
Mansart, J. 54, 57, 59, 63, 65–6,
69, 96 Rasse, P. 10, 11
Mariaux, P-A. 111, 127 Richardson, J. 20
Mariotti, A. 158, 160–2, 164, 166 Riesener, J-H. 102, 106–8
Marks, R. 122, 127 Romano, G. 79–80, 91, 103
Mauriès, P. 26, 36, 38 Rubens, P. 26, 36
McClellan, I. 59, 66
Meadows, A. 34, 38 Sacchi, A. 5
Medina, J. 17 Saint-Aubin, 40–6, 48, 53
Michaud, P-A. 138, 147, 152 Sargentson, C. 102, 106, 108
Millington, E. 17 Scamozzi, V. 74, 81, 86
Mitchell, W. J. T. 9, 11 Smith, K. 32
Mylne, R. 21, 32
Teniers the Younger, D. 27
Nattier, J-M. 49 Thiéry, L-V. 92, 104, 109
Navarrete, B. 139, 148, 152
Nys, D. 79 Valverde, I. 146, 153
Valdés Leal, 137, 139, 142–3, 150
Oppenord, G-M. 99 Van Loo, C. 45–7, 51, 52
Vasi, G. 158
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(Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions) Pamela Bianchi - Displaying Art in The Early Modern Period - Exhibiting Practices and Exhibition Spaces-Routledge (2022)

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i

Displaying Art in the Early Modern Period

From aesthetic promenades in noble palaces to the performativity of religious appar-

Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions

Routledge Research in Art Museums and Exhibitions is a new series focusing on

The Twentieth Century German Art Exhibition

Liberalism, Nationalism and Design Reform in the Habsburg Empire

A History of Aboriginal Art in the Art Gallery of New South Wales

Contemporary Curating, Artistic Reference and Public Reception

Displaying Art in the Early Modern Period

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routle​dge.com/​Routle​dge-​

Displaying Art in the Early

Edited by Pamela Bianchi

List of Figures  vii

1 Reason for a Research  3

2 Trading Spaces: The Display Practices of an Early Modern

3 The Discourse of the Salon  39

4 Royal Spectacles and Social Networks: Early 18th-​Century

5 Exhibition Design, Display Strategies, and Aesthetic Promenades

6 “A Treasure of Riches and Curiosities”: Politics of Display at the

8 Displaying Art in a Sacred Space: The Artworks for the Triunfo

9 The Ephemeral Façade of Cardinal de Solis’s Palace: Aesthetics

.1 Title page of Edinburgh auction catalogue 

viii List of Figures

Pamela Bianchi (PhD, University of Paris 8) –​Contributor and Editor

Case Studies and Spaces

Reason for a Research 5

Reason for a Research 7

Reason for a Research 9

10 Pamela Bianchi

Reason for a Research 11

16 Antonia Laurence Allen

18 Antonia Laurence Allen

20 Antonia Laurence Allen

The Auction House

22 Antonia Laurence Allen

Figure 2.2 Page 5 of Edinburgh auction catalogue. National Records of Scotland, GD26/​13/​

24 Antonia Laurence Allen

26 Antonia Laurence Allen

28 Antonia Laurence Allen

30 Antonia Laurence Allen

32 Antonia Laurence Allen

34 Antonia Laurence Allen

36 Antonia Laurence Allen

38 Antonia Laurence Allen

40 Isabelle Pichet

The Discourse of the Salon 41

42 Isabelle Pichet

Dans l’embrazure d’une croisée, il y a un Cadre qui renferme plusieurs Portraits

The Discourse of the Salon 43

44 Isabelle Pichet

Au-​dessus des Tableaux du Lever & du Coucher du Soleil44 M. Restout en a

This statement allows us to consider another aspect of art production, referring

The Discourse of the Salon 45

46 Isabelle Pichet

The Discourse of the Salon 47

48 Isabelle Pichet

The Discourse of the Salon 49

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Routledge-

List of Figures vii

1 Reason for a Research 3

3 The Discourse of the Salon 39

4 Royal Spectacles and Social Networks: Early 18th-Century

.1 Title page of Edinburgh auction catalogue

Pamela Bianchi (PhD, University of Paris 8) –Contributor and Editor

Figure 2.2 Page 5 of Edinburgh auction catalogue. National Records of Scotland, GD26/13/

Au-dessus des Tableaux du Lever & du Coucher du Soleil44 M. Restout en a

Figure 4.1 Pierre Lepautre (1660–1744), Représentation de la statue de Sa Majesté eslevée dans

The first architectural incarnation of the garde-meuble, the Hôtel du Petit-Bourbon,

Figure 6.2 Plan du Premier Etage du Gardemeuble du Roy à Construire à la Place Louis XV

Figure 6.4 Elevation of the Galerie des Antiques at the Garde- Démosthène

Displaying and Collecting Metalwork in the Later Middle Ages –