THE AMBASSADORS OF DIALOGUE \ The Role of Diplomatic Gifts and Works of Arts and Crafts in Intercultural Exchange Papers from the International Conference of the International Committee for Museums and Collections of Arms and Military History (ICOMAM) and the International Committee for Museums and Collections of Decorative Arts and Design (ICDAD) at the National Museum in Krakow 16th–18th of September, 2015 edited by Michał Dziewulski Krakow 2016 Reviewed by: Dr. Beata Biedrońska-Słota Editor: Michał Dziewulski Proofreader: Adrian Lukas Smith Coordinator: Anna Sobesto Organization of the Conference: Michał Dziewulski, Anna Sobesto Layout: Miriam Pyszko Printed by: Drukarnia Leyko \ The authors of the texts bear the sole responsibility for observing the copyright of the illustrations. Cover illustration: Mathis Zündt (after Hans Adelhauser), ‘View of Grodno’ (detail) depicting a diplomatic meeting between Polish-Lithuanian envoys and Russian, Tatar and Ottoman delegations in 1568. Princes Czartoryski Museum, inv. no. XV-R.7024. ISBN 978-83-7581-219-0 © National Museum in Krakow 2016 © ICOM-ICOMAM 2016 © ICOM-ICDAD 2016 Table of Contents 9 Eva-Sofi Ernstell and Helena Koenigsmarková Foreword 11 Michał Dziewulski Ambassadors of Dialogue – Introduction PART I. Diplomatic Gifts and Intercultural Exchange in Military Museums. Understanding Collections and Collecting 19 Christoph Hatschek The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts 31 Ilse Bogaerts The Value of Donations: One Hundred Years of the Acquisition Policy of the Royal Army Museum, Brussels 39 Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi Re-capturing the British Imperial Past PART II. Understanding ‘the Others’. The Dissemination of Ideas and Material Culture 51 Robyn D. Radway Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe: The Material Culture of the Borderlands in Renaissance Depictions of the Ottoman World 61 Karin Tetteris An Image of ‘the Other’ – How a 17th-Century Russian Banner was Interpreted by the Swedish Victors 5 The Ambassadors of Dialogue 71 Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas, B.A. The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword 81 Henry Yallop Swords of Empire: The 19th Century Frenchification of European Edged Weapons 95 Elena Titova Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects PART III. Material Culture as a Tool of Diplomacy. Various Aspects of Diplomatic Gifts in Museum Collections 119 Ann Grönhammar Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia and Two European Vassal States of the Ottoman Empire in the 17th Century 141 Jarosław Godlewski Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the Collection of the Polish Army Museum in Warsaw 157 Rainald Franz Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift 165 Maria José Tavares A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room in the Palácio da Ajuda 181 Daria Vinogradova and Elena Porodina Weapons as Ambassadorial Gifts in the Collection of the Central Armed Forces Museum of the Russian Federation 189 Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska Gifts of Friendship in the Collection of the Polish Army Museum in Warsaw 6 Table of Contents PART IV. Diplomatic Gifts. Case Studies 201 Barbara Karl Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting. Three Ottoman Çaprak Saddle Cloths in MAK – Museum für angewandte Kunst/Gegenwartskunst in Vienna 213 Martina Pall An Etched Iron Cabinet from the Schell Collection 221 Jana Bělová Fragments of the Railings from Saint Ivan’s Tomb in Svatý Jan pod Skalou 227 Robert Cassar The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude 237 Kay Douglas Smith The Iron Keys of Riga: Cannon, Diplomacy and Tudor Policy in the Baltic 243 Petra Krutisch Between Pride and Suspicion. Lothar Franz von Schönborn and the Lohr Mirror Manufactory circa 1700 253 Peter Johnston Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire 7 Foreword \ Two international committees of ICOM: ICOMAM (International Committee for Museums and Collections of Arms and Military History) and ICDAD (International Committee for Museums and Collections of Decorative Arts and Design) had a joint conference in Krakow in September 2015. Our local host was the National Museum and we had a very good and interesting program of lectures and events. The first time the two committees met to start organizing the conference was in 2014 when we met for two days, 14th–15th of April, in Krakow. Helena Koenigsmarková (ICDAD) and Eva-Sofi Ernstell, Mathieu Willemsen and Mario Scalini (ICOMAM) had a meeting and looked at the venue, places of interest and museums. We very much enjoyed the city and its museums. Director Zofia Gołubiew, Olga Jaros and curator Michał Dziewulski, at the National Museum in Krakow, were perfect hosts and helped us appreciate the institutions and the city very much. The conference itself took place between 16th–18th of September, 2015 in Krakow. The schedule included lectures, meetings, discussions, visits to museums and the city, a ‘behind the scenes’ program, receptions and dinners. Board meetings for the committees and general assembly’s for all the members also took place in between seminars and lectures. Participants learnt much from lecturers from differing disciplines and gained new insights into the subject areas covered by both committees. After the 3 day conference there was a post conference tour to Warsaw where the host was the Polish Army Museum, and participants enjoyed two more days of specialist tours. During this time some delegates stayed in Krakow and enjoyed the delights of the city and its culture for one more day. International cooperation is very important within the field of museums. We look at different styles, influences and interpretations from abroad; we study collections and museum work. We get to know each other better and catch up with local networks that are useful in the future. ICOM is the worldwide non-governmental organization (NGO) for museum professionals. We very much look forward to continuing to create joint projects together, such as exhibition exchanges and seminars, with other International Committees of ICOM. The conference in Krakow was a great success for all of us. a much deserved big thank you to Michał Dziewulski for all the hard work he put into the conference and now into the publication of its proceedings. He and his team, especially Anna Sobesto, were very rigorous and professional in every aspect of the organization of the conference. We hope all of you enjoy reading this book and that we will all meet again during next congresses. Eva-Sofi Ernstell President of ICOMAM Helena Koenigsmarková President of ICDAD 9 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Participants of the ICOMAM-ICDAD Congress in Krakow, during a visit to the historical Wieliczka Salt Mine d 10 Michał Dziewulski (National Museum in Krakow) Ambassadors of Dialogue – Introduction \ The combined Congress of the International Committee for Museums and Collections of Arms and Military History (ICOMAM) and the International Committee for Museums and Collections of Decorative Arts and Design (ICDAD) was held in 2015 at the National Museum, in Krakow, Poland. Krakow, a city with a history of more than 1,000 years, has played an important role in the culture and politics of the region, being situated at the cultural crossroads of occidental (Italy, Germany) and oriental (Ottoman Empire and Persia) influences. It is difficult to imagine a better place to discuss matters of international and intercultural dialogue than the former capital of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, famous for its republican tradition and multiculturalism. The personal union of Krewo, concluded with the Grand Duchy of Lithuania in 1385, whereby the Grand Duke of Lithuania Jogaila ascended to the Polish throne as King Władysław II (r. 1386-1434), helped turn the east-central European state, which until then had been under the influence of Western Europe’s Christian culture, into a territorial superpower. Through the incorporation of territories, spreading southeast from the Baltic coast and reaching the shores of the Black Sea at the time of the greatest expansion, the homogeneous kingdom turned into a multicultural state and multireligious society inhabited by Poles, Lithuanians, Belarusians, Ruthenians, Cossacks, Jews, Germans, Greeks, Tatars, Armenians, Latvians, Estonians and even Scots, Italians and Hungarians. The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth’s large population, as well as the extension of its borders to southeastern Europe, created a culture that was the result of the symbiosis of many Oriental and Occidental influences. These influences, imposed on a social structure led by a nobility (ca. 10% of the population) who believed they originated from the Middle Eastern Sarmatians, resulted in the formation of a unique culture in Europe. The history of the place, however, was not the only reason for choosing this city as the location of the Congress of ICOM Committees. Some of the most interesting and valuable collections of old weapons and uniforms as well as decorative works of art can be found in a number of top museums in this historic city. One should also remember the close links between Krakow, especially the National Museum in Krakow, and the ICOMAM, previously known as the IAMAM. Professor Zbigniew Bocheński, one of the most important Polish investigators of historical weapons and a Deputy Director of the National Museum, participated in the founding congress of the IAMAM in Copenhagen in 1957. He also participated in its works in the following 11 The Ambassadors of Dialogue years, encouraging international cooperation and breaking the ‘iron curtain’ that was unfavourable to education. His colleague, Professor Zdzisław Żygulski, a curator of the Princes Czartoryski Museum at the National Museum in Krakow, surpassed his predecessor. In 1975 he was elected president by members of the IAMAM, and directed this organization for two consecutive terms until 1981, organizing congresses in the United States, the Soviet Union and Poland in 1978. The ICDAD also has its sentimental ties with Poland. This is where, in Warsaw, the congress of this committee was held in 1991. The direct inspiration for the theme of the ICOMAM and ICDAD congress in Krakow entitled ‘The ambassadors of dialogue. The role of diplomatic gifts and works of arts and crafts in intercultural exchange’, was the exhibition ‘Ottomania. The Ottoman Orient in Renaissance Art’, which took place at the same time at the National Museum in Krakow, organized jointly with the Palais des Beaux-Arts (BOZAR) in Brussels, where it had previously been on show and called ‘The Sultan’s World’. The exhibition, prepared by the curators Guido Messling, Robert Born and Michał Dziewulski, showed the impact of Ottoman Turkey on the art and culture of Renaissance Europe through the works of masters from the finest collections of the world. The conference enabled a broader view on the issues raised by the exhibition, going beyond Europe, the Middle East and the narrow period of the Renaissance. This publication is its direct result. The volume has been divided into three parts. The first part, ‘Diplomatic Gifts and Intercultural Exchange in Military Museums. Towards an Understanding of Collections and Collecting’ consists of three articles devoted to, generally speaking, museums. The volume begins with an article written by Christoph Hatschek of the Museum of Military History in Vienna. The author points out the differences between the modern understanding and treatment of diplomatic gifts and their former form and meaning sanctioned through the centuries. It also draws attention to a particular issue, which is frequently discussed on the pages of this publication. Military men often played an underappreciated role in diplomatic contacts, and gifts belonging to the military were often associated with the domain of war rather than peace and diplomacy, while being willingly given and accepted. However, the following part of this work draws attention to the current problems associated with the accession of new objects in the field of diplomatic memorabilia to museum collections, reflecting negatively on the quality and importance of museum collections. The times when diplomatic gifts were not only of symbolic importance, but were evidence of the power of a given state and the wealth of person handing the gift, are long gone. Currently, gifts have only a commemorative function and in the world of political correctness, for fear of accusations of corruption, they are deprived of artistic and symbolic features, and after being brought to museums they do not have the right to survive the test of time, resulting in a waste of public funds. Issues surrounding the collecting policy of museums are also presented by Ilse Bogaerts from KLM in Brussels, pointing first to the method of acquiring museum collections through donations, purchases, collectors and diplomats and devoting her reflections to the currently prevailing theme concerning the relationship between museums and collectors. These environments, even though they cooperated closely in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, have become more and more distant from each other. The situation described in relation to the Brussels museum seems to find many analogies to most museum institutions in the world. The author’s view raises a reflection that diplomacy 12 Michał Dziewulski s Introduction and diplomatic gifts should not be seen only in relation to politics, modern or old, but also in relation to the everyday life of museums in the modern world and the relationship occurring between museums, scientists, collectors and politicians. An article written by two authors, Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi, closes the theoretical part of this publication. On the basis of the collections of the National Museums of Scotland, they raise an important question about the interpretation of historical artefacts from British colonial conquests and war looting, asking whether they can be considered in the context of cultural exchange. This issue is a pretext for the presentation of an interdisciplinary and inter-institutional project, which aims to explore and reappraise non-European colonial-era collections. Such studies are necessary to fully understand the importance, role and origin of objects. It seems that such a presentation of the interdisciplinary approach to this subject concerning the examination of objects, which authors want to expand in the future from military objects to other arts and crafts, can be a kind of appeal in relation to other museum collections, where such studies, using the knowledge of researchers in other disciplines such as ethnography and anthropology, have so far not been taken into account. The appeal of both authors relating to the re-examination of artefacts from other cultures seems to be the perfect introduction to the second part of this publication, ‘Understanding “the Others”. The Dissemination of Ideas in Material Cultures’. The opening article is a study by Robyn Radway (Princeton University), in which she searches for the origins of specific shields assigned to the Ottomans, but also used by European armies. These shields, used in the sixteenth century and distinguished by an asymmetrical shape and a convex form, were supposed to protect the rider’s body. The author focuses on the copies decorated with feathers preserved in the iconography, trying to answer the question of whether such shields actually came from areas of the Ottoman Empire, or whether they may have only been a creation of the western world and its artists. This is a very interesting and inspiring study that draws attention to the fact that not all artefacts found in museums should undergo an encyclopaedic assignment, as they are often creations that were produced at cultural crossroads. Another article, the only one on this subject in this volume, is devoted to vexillology. Karin Tetteris (the Armémuseum in Stockholm), on the basis of a captured Russian banner that is now kept in a Swedish collection, shows the interesting and not widely known significance of the object, which is revealed through archival sources. Banners, in particular military ones, were often embedded in propaganda, especially if they were captured during a military expedition, after which they were used as a symbol of the defeated enemy. It was no different in the case of the artefact described by the author, with the exception that the ideological content was used as propaganda to create a negative image of the enemy. Therefore, the author returns to the issue raised by Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi, and tries to answer the question whether in this case we can talk about cultural exchange, and consider the captured banner as ‘an ambassador of dialogue’. The next two articles are studies referring to sabres. It should not be surprising that these basic bladed weapons, first used in the Middle East and then as from the sixteenth century on a large scale in Europe, could become an example of the exchange of thoughts and ideas. Edged weapons are not only tools in the hands of a soldier, but also an item often marked by a number of symbolic meanings. New types, whether it was due to their 13 The Ambassadors of Dialogue design or technical values, were often the subject of exchange or industrial espionage. Such French influences, in the form of ‘Mameluke’ swords, referring to the Turkish sabre found in the United States Marine Corps and whose genesis reached Napoleonic France, are described by Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas. At that time, the Empire was experiencing another period of fascination with the Middle East and its culture on the canvas of Napoleon’s conquests in Egypt, and the influence of this fascination traveled across the ocean. The impact of the French military from Napoleonic times on other armies of the world was very strong and was not limited only to the United States. This is demonstrated by Henry Yallop (Royal Armouries) who, after examining different types of edged weapons used all over the world, indicates numerous adoptions of French design, raising a question about the role of the technical capabilities of weapons and the then current fashion of ‘Frenchification’. We are of course dealing not only with cultural exchange, but also with the use of technological and practical solutions, which showed how craft and industry became the subject of progressive industrialization. This example, associated with the military, seems to freely refer to other areas of life, while the nineteenth century processes of exchange of thoughts and ideas are, after all, still continuing in the form of globalization, whose origins are seen in the 1890s and the first world fairs. Elena Titova, based on the world exhibitions of 1900, 1925 and 1937 in Paris, 1939 in New York and 1958 in Brussels, presents the most interesting and valuable objects that can be found in the collection of the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art. The author draws particular attention not only to the state’s (in this case Russia and the USSR) promotion of ideas, artistic, industrial and technological development through global exhibitions, but also to the propagandist nature of the works created for these occasions, aimed to show the best side of the exhibitor, as a strong, vigorous and wealthy state. It is difficult not to see certain similarities to the importance of diplomatic gifts that for centuries were handed to rulers. The article by Elena Titova is therefore the perfect link between the second and third part of the volume, ‘Material Culture as a Tool of Diplomacy. Different Aspects of Diplomatic Gifts in Museum Collections’, devoted to the revision of diplomatic gifts kept in museum collections. A series of six articles is opened by an extensive study by Ann Grönhammar. Through the fascinating history of the artefacts located in the Royal Collection in Stockholm, and gifts from Russian, Tatar, Transylvania and Persian rulers, it shows how diplomatic issues united the efforts of the Swedish court to establish the Silk Road to Sweden. It also raises interesting issues about how some gifts given to the royal court have been re-used for purposes that are different to those that were originally intended. An equally extensive study is presented by Jarosław Godlewski. Through the presentation of the difficult twists and turns of diplomacy and political structure of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, the author presents selected memorabilias from the collection of the Polish Army Museum in Warsaw, proposing their classification and division, and reflecting on the role and importance of diplomatic gifts in the former Republic. This article also considers the problem of distinguishing between a gift and a political bribe, which in the light of today’s standards, should be acknowledged in some of the gifts handed centuries ago in certain political situations, which is the case raised by Christoph Hatschek in the first work published in this volume. 14 Michał Dziewulski s Introduction The article by Franz Rainald is short but contains a lot of valuable information. The author describes the general role of porcelain as a diplomatic gift from the Middle Ages to the early nineteenth century, pointing to several major events, people and facts that are representative of the theme and which constitute the basis for further, in-depth studies on this issue. The article also refers to trade in far-eastern China and the beginning of the porcelain ‘career’ in Europe, which indirectly refers to the article of Maria José Tavares who discusses Far Eastern diplomatic gifts and the so-called Chinese Room at the Palácio da Ajuda in Lisbon. The article is also an attempt to reconstruct the appearance and origin of objects that were originally located in the Chinese Room, using preserved archival sources. Modern aspects of weapons as potential diplomatic gifts, symbols of friendship and cooperation are described in the following two articles: Daria Vinogradova and Elena Porodina of the Central Armed Forces Museum in Moscow and Izabela ProkopczukRunowska of the Army Museum in Warsaw. Both works are based on the selection of chosen artefacts, most of which represent an exchange between the countries of the former Soviet bloc. The closing part of the volume, ‘Ambassadors of Dialogue: Case Studies of Diplomatic Gifts’, consists of seven studies on selected objects from museum collections. The opening article is written by Barbara Karl who has taken the trouble to investigate the origin of three Oriental saddle cloths, included in the collection of the Museum of Applied Arts (MAK) in Vienna, which originally come from the Habsburg collections in Ambras Castle in Innsbruck. Based on the analysis of historical and archival material, the author tries to determine the place of origin and history of the artefacts, which would explain the reason for finding them in the European court. Martina Pall, in turn, presents a small study of a richly decorated cabinet in the SchellCollection, a private museum in Graz, Austria. Until now, it was believed to be the wedding gift of German princes. However, based on the object’s decoration and symbolism, the author tries to answer the question of the box’s role and presents the hypothesis that the object should actually be seen as a diplomatic gift. The study by Jana Bĕlová of City of Prague Museumis kept in a similar character, revealing the diplomatic history of a quite unusual museum object associated with the Benedictine Monastery in Svatý Jan pod Skalou, namely part of a fence that once surrounded the saint’s Ivan tomb. The next two studies relate to historical artillery. The study of Kay Douglas Smith reveals a new interpretation of the origin of one of the cannons found in the Maritime Museum in Lisbon, entangled in complicated diplomatic disputes of the sixteenth century. On the other hand, Robert Cassar focuses on cannons, which became a symbol of friendship and altruism between the two rulers from the collection of the Palace Armoury in Valetta. Petra Krutish’s work discusses the interesting question of political operations around the manufacture of glass in Lohr, whose secrets were taken advantage of by the Viennese court. The owner, the Elector of Mainz, for fear of political consequences from Emperor Leopold and his own interest in maintaining a monopoly on the production of plate-glass, was forced to resort to diplomatic tricks in order to maintain his position, and a certain role was played by the gifts, the nature of which can be described as diplomatic. The volume is closed by Peter Johnston’s article, which refers to issues already raised by Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi who pose bold questions about the meaning of diplomatic gifts related to the colonial policy of the British Empire. His considerations are 15 The Ambassadors of Dialogue continued by the study of the mere, a traditional Maori weapon, that was handed to Field Marshall Lord Frederick Roberts by Tuta Nikoniho, chief of one of New Zealand’s tribes. According to tradition, in the eyes of the indigenous population, such an act could be considered a betrayal. On the basis of the preserved archival materials, the author investigates the reasons for the transfer of a valuable personal gift characterized by emotional importance, interpreting its meaning in a much broader context and also in relation to the present. The ICOMAM and ICDAD congress held at the National Museum in Krakow brought together nearly eighty scholars from twenty-two countries. This international interest in the congress and the subject proposed by the organizers was also clearly reflected in the presented topics and delivered articles. The thematic variety and clear differences of opinions are the reflection of the specialisations of each participant and their institution. Nevertheless, the organizers believe that this selection is, as far as was possible, representative and will be entered in the world’s research on the history of diplomacy and intercultural dialogue by providing valuable material for further research on these cultural phenomena. d 16 PART I Diplomatic Gifts and Intercultural Exchange in Military Museums. Understanding Collections and Collecting Christoph Hatschek (Museum of Military History – Military History Institute, Vienna) The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts \ The mutual giving of gifts – beautifully crafted items or exotic animals – is by no means a modern invention and has its roots in long ago times, when ancient rulers tried to consolidate political alliances by sending envoys to show mutual respect and loyalty.1 However, these events only remained occasional until the Renaissance, when a certain ‘routine’ was established. Smaller Italian city-states, like Venice, started to appoint legates and to send permanent missions to oriental courts in order to maintain good relationships with Eastern States and to secure their commercial interests.2 During the past few decades, scholars all over the world have been studying gift-giving as being part of the diplomatic process.3 But ‘gift-exchanges’ between members of the military haven‘t yet been properly studied, due to the fact that ‘military diplomacy, like military intelligence may be construed to be an oxymoron’.4 Militaries are usually more often engaged in conflicts than in international negotiations, where primarily goodwill is asked without the use of force – as diplomacy is likely to be defined. But over the centuries many diplomatic gifts naturally were served also through military-personal5 as a precursor or even as final supporter of peace. The ceremony of giving itself already represented a highly important act with several symbolic meanings for the relationship between the ‘actors’. Already the ‘function’6 of being 1 Rudolph 2012. 2 Rudolph 2005. 3 Rudolph 2012; Reindl-Kiel 2013; Durchhardt 1975. 4 Muthanna 2011. 5 From 1648 till 1918 more than a hundred officers became ambassadors or envoys of the Habsburg Court. More than fifty were appointed as consuls. Regele 1961, pp. 302, 307, 310. The first ‘real’ Austrian military-attachés were finally appointed in February 1860 for the embassies in Paris, Berlin and St. Petersburg. Allmayer-Beck 1965. 6 Ewert and Hirschbiegel 2000. 19 The Ambassadors of Dialogue the sender or the recipient created a different social status, identity and role allocation. The courier himself and his social standing embodied an important piece of information.7 Finally, the gift itself had to be ‘customized’ to the situation as it seemed essential to take care of the (non-verbal) messages that would be transmitted.8 Gifts were used to represent a sophisticated form of political communication, which was able to consolidate or strengthen political alliances, to emphasize loyalty or at least to show mutual respect, but also to pursue concrete representation and power strategies. a very good example of the gift-giving practice is the relationship between the Habsburg Empire and the Sublime Porte, as it not only underlines the development of this courtesy through the centuries but also the cultural differences between these two completely different political attitudes.9 During the second half of the sixteenth century, the Viennese court provided a great variety of diplomatic gifts, as well as a yearly tribute which had to be paid in return for the possession of Western parts of Hungary.10 This was seen by the Sultans as a permanent submission of the Holy Roman Empire and their sovereigns. This practice first ended after the so-called ‘long’ Turkish War (1593–1606) and the peace-treaty of Zsitvatorok.11 Henceforth, the Habsburgs were officially no longer seen as vassals but as equivalent partners. However, the transfer of ‘honorary gifts’, brought mutually to each treaty renewal by the delegations, was just seen as a replacement of the former unilateral tributes by the Sublime Porte.12 ‘In Habsburg circles a strong belief existed that giving presents to Ottoman functionaries was not only beneficial to the outcome of peace talks, but also absolutely indispensable.’13 The diplomatic gifts presented by the envoys always served several purposes. This became even more important as the power struggle between the two empires eventually shifted from a military to a more symbolic one. For the maintaining of good relations, the exchange of gifts was primarily implied as a common practice.14 However, for the outcome of any further negotiations with a potential enemy to be positive, it was also necessary to present gifts of high value. Therefore, the Habsburg’s permanent mission at the Sublime Porte not only had the task of collecting information (‘privileged spying’), but also to represent the wealth and highly developed culture of their authority. The gifts that were given 7 Rudolph 2013/II. 8 Schwedler 2011, p. 183. 9 20 Müller 2005. 10 Severi 2005, p. 293. 11 Beyerle 1980. 12 There was even a linguistic differentiation between the use of armaganlar (gift) and haraçlar (tribute) as diplomatic gifts were finally considered in the Turkish correspondence. Burschel 2007; Petritsch 1993; Windler 2000. 13 Severi 2005, p. 291. 14 Kubersky-Piredda and Pons 2013. Christoph Hatschek s The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts Fig. 1. Official ‘representation-presents’ of the Austrian Ministry of Defence and the Armed Forces, 2015 d to the Sultan and his entourage had to be of a high material value, but their special design also had to always convey several non-verbal messages.15 ‘(…) at best it met and perhaps exceeded expectations, demonstrating a rapport between donor and recipient (…) not to overshoot, but rather to achieve the desired result without seeming contrived or imprudent.’16 Consequently, the selection and offering of the gifts and the eventual response remained difficult because every gift had to be appropriate in accordance with the value and scope of both the social status of the donor and the recipient. The appraisal of the gift was therefore not limited purely to the material value, the circumstances of gift-giving also had to be considered17 – this finally gave the favoured context.18 15 Schwedler 2011. 16 Yonan 2009, p. 177. 17 Etzelsdorfer 2013. 18 Rudolph 2012. 21 The Ambassadors of Dialogue The drive for giving gifts did not always come from the donor, but was often demanded by the receiver himself.19 An envoy that did not carry any gifts violated not only cultural practices, but also expressed certain contempt towards his opponent,20 which should be interpreted as a showing of force. Especially in the nineteenth century, the display of military power by implying or issuing a direct threat of warfare was frequently used by the European powers, often successfully, to achieve national aims and objectives in international relations.21 This was also the case in the renewal of the 1783 peace-contract in 1805 between the Habsburg Empire and the Sultanate of Morocco22, one of the so called ‘barbary states’.23 While it was important for Morocco to be compensated for no further ‘privateering’ by new revenues in the form of port tariffs and trade taxes, the Sultan also expected appropriate gifts from the part of the appointed foreign consuls and commercial agents for himself and his confidentes. However, the Viennese court did not consider these local interests appropriately and additionally there was no desire to strengthen trade relations with Morocco at all, resulting in no consuls being sent – making regular gift exchange impossible as well. Even as the new ruler, Sultan Muley Abd el-Rahman (1778–1859) came to the throne in 1822, the Austrian chancellor of state Count Klemens Wenzel von Metternich (1773–1859) denied him any ‘honorary’ gift. The deployment of the Austrian Navy was principally considered a better option than permanently appointing a consul and giving gifts – as it seemed to be ‘cheaper’. As the more and more insistent demands submitted by the Sultan to appoint a consul to Rabat and to fulfil the articles of the agreement were ignored, the Austrian merchant vessel Il Veloce was in conclusion captured in July 1828 near Cadiz by a Moroccan brig. Its merchandise was confiscated and the crew detained by the Sultan’s authorities. The response of the Viennese Court to this act was quick and decisive: the commander of the Austrian naval forces Sylvestre Count Dandolo (1766–1847) was ordered to use ‘every appropriate form of force’ to intervene immediately against such an act of ‘barbarism’. Under the command of Lieutenant-Commander Francesco Bandiera (1785–1847), four Austrian battle ships were committed to liberate the hostages and to 22 19 The Habsburg were confronted at the time with the growing demand for presents as well as the increasingly exquisite taste of the Ottoman court. Clocks, expensive garments, globes, trumpets, clothes, gold and silver cups just didn’t seem enough to assuage the range of different desires. Severi 2005, p. 292. 20 Krischer 2007. 21 During the Middle Ages, this quite ‘archaic’ principle had been widespread. Although there were some diplomatic approaches, it seemed more opportune to teach the meaning of fear. Accordingly, Engelbert of Admont in his Speculum virtutum moralium (ca. 1310) made his clear preference for using gold primarily for the defence and determent of the enemy than to ingratiate him with gifts. Schwedler 2011, p. 176ff. 22 The most important articles of this contract referred to the ‘mutual’ renunciation of piracy, robbery and slavery (articles 1 to 6), the opening of trade routes between Morocco and Austria, and the establishment of a permanent Austrian Consulate (articles 7 to 9). Hartman 1970. 23 During the early nineteenth century, mercenaries granted with a letter of marque by the rulers of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli represented an almost constant danger to maritime trade in the Mediterranean region. Bachmann 2003–2004, no. 272, p. 428. Christoph Hatschek s The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts force the restoration of the naval brig.24 But the display of force only had limited success. Several military interactions had to be undertaken, before a settlement could finally be achieved. For more than 45 years, the Habsburg Empire had refused to appoint a consul to Rabat fearing the estimated high costs of diplomatic gifts to the Sultan of Morocco and his counsellors. However, this ‘miserliness’ eventually became meaningless in the end, as at the signing of the accord of Mechniez on the 20th of October, 1830, a gift had to be given by the Austrian envoys to each representative of the sultan’s delegation – several hundred people on the spot – including luxury products, precious fabrics and porcelain sets.25 ‘The object was required to do more than just please its recipient; at best it met and perhaps exceeded expectations, demonstrating a rapport between donor and recipient’.26 By the mid-eighteenth century, porcelain27 had become one of the most common gifts that the Habsburg-family gave in recognition of important events (like weddings, birthdays, etc.) to other European courts. These gifts were always chosen with due consideration and were firmly linked to the Habsburg identity and its dynastic longevity.28 The culture of (diplomatic) gift-giving finally had grown to a very distinguished complexity, where even the smallest detail was taken in consideration as it could be interpreted as a sign of the emotional, personal and political attitudes of the parties involved. ‘Controlling the gift’s message was one of the giver’s biggest challenges and interpreting it correctly could be difficult for the recipient, especially since the gift could outlive its owner and carry messages across time’.29 Giving a gift was never a simple matter, and even today finding an accurate and appropriate gift for official visits seems to be an extremely difficult task. The final choice not only represents the exquisite taste of the donor himself but also provides the opportunity to show his empathy. 24 This ‘divisiona marittima del ponente’ (western navy division) was composed of the corvettes Carolina and Adria, the brig Veneto and the schooner Enrichetta. 25 Recognizing the necessity of accepting the local customs, Lt. Commander Bandiera had already ordered a huge list of diplomatic gifts at the start of the campaign. 26 Yonan 2009, p. 177. 27 On the 25th of May, 1718, Claudius Innocentius du Paquier (1679–1751) had been awarded the privilege from Emperor Charles VI to exclusively manufacture porcelain in the Austrian crown lands. He founded the first production facility in the suburbs of Vienna, which is till today known as the Viennese Augarten manufactory. This tradition has been continued for nearly 300 years and prestigious products from Augarten are still used for diplomatic purposes by the Austrian State. 28 Maria-Theresa and her son Joseph II were, in particular, partial to highly decorated snuff-boxes with portraits of members of the Imperial family. Yonan 2009, p. 179. 29 Ibidem, p. 177. 23 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 2. Lt. General Hoefler present a typical ‘souvenir’ of the Austrian Armed Forces to Arnold Schwarzenegger, 2010 d Fig. 3. Swiss cowbell as a gift to mark the 30th anniversary of flight operations of the training aircraft PC-7 Turbo Trainer © Bundesheer / Grebien 2013 d Any donation is associated with an expectation from the giver to the recipient, as it requires a ‘response’, a ‘thank-you-gesture’, a gift in return or, in diplomatic ways, a friendlier attitude. Diplomatic gifts have always been an essential pillar of the political order, an effective political means of communication for sealing contracts, renewing coalitions etc. They were used in order to obtain proper information, to promote 24 Christoph Hatschek s The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts (‘lobbying’) or as a token of gratitude for already received benefits.30 This did not change over the centuries. In fact, the differences between ‘gifts’ and ‘bribes’ have always been rather fluid, even as the ‘bogy of corruption’ in public service has only been perceived as such in modern times.31 The Austrian public service is deemed to be ‘fairly honest, quite hard-working, and generally high-minded’.32 Nevertheless, the national authorities have in recent years undertaken several programmes to prevent any form of corruption in this sector.33 The receiving of any ‘benefit’ plays a major role in this mission. In principle, the acceptance of any gift is formally forbidden for every public official.34 Souvenirs or marks of courtesy are normally seen as ‘hostess’ gifts with a minor or only symbolic value and will not be deemed as such. However, in the case of diplomatic gifts the ‘receiving’ is normally seen as being of public interest. In either case, the receiver has to immediately inform his or her service authority and pass on any, for the time being, ‘received’ gift before it is, after evaluation, ‘accepted’ as federal property. This very strict ‘Code of Conduct’ applies to the entire public service of Austria and therefore also to the Ministry of Defence and Sports and subsequently the Austrian Armed Forces. Up until 2011 all diplomatic gifts – as in previous times – were carefully recorded in directories or at least given to museum collections.35 As the practice of ‘re-gifting’36, which was highly appreciated by the aristocracy in the eighteenth century, is not possible in modern times, museums often had to keep these ‘outstanding’ items in storage. This place of storage was often internally called the ‘chamber of horrors’, due to the high proportion of ‘decorative local character’ items, which took up a lot of needed valuable space. As the problem of ‘releasing’ museum property is still an unsolved, a practicable solution had to be found in order to solve this acquisition problem in Austria’s museums.37 The public service law amendment in 201138 finally determined that every diplomatic gift has to be itemised as federal property and further realised for charitable trust. The long term ownership of diplomatic gifts by the State – for example in museum collections – was no longer required by the legislator for reasons of economy, thrift and practicality. By May 2012, these determinations had been implemented by the Federal Ministry of Defence and Sports and the Armed Forces. All profit from the disposal of diplomatic gifts has to be remitted to the ‘United Old-Austrian Military Foundations’ (Vereinigte Altösterreichische 30 Falcke 2006, p. 18. 31 Thiessen 2010, p. 209ff. 32 Taylor 1948, p. 48. 33 Ritter 2010. 34 Bundesdienstgesetz 1979, article 59. 35 Wien 2013; Linz 1988. 36 Yonan 2009, p. 177ff. 37 Hatschek 2014. 38 Bundesdienstgesetz 2011. 25 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Militärstiftungen) for welfare purposes, to help soldiers, civil servants and their families in case of emergency situations, provide scholarships at military schools and maintain military recreation facilities.39 Nevertheless, in order to provide ‘vibrant and healthy defence and military relationships’ the transfer of gifts was and, of course, still is quite common between military personnel.40 These ‘hostess’ gifts or just marks of courtesy are not covered by the pointed out determinations – as they are seen normally of a minor or just symbolic value. Normally, these ‘souvenirs’ are referring to the proper unit,41 branch or at least represent the memory of cooperative military activity (like training exchanges or combined exercises). Most of these military diplomatic gifts are not necessarily recommended as a stylistic enrichment of any interior décor. Their artistic origin and material value can mostly only be presumed. The portfolio ranges from quite tasteful items, selected with empathy, handicraft aesthetics, up to pure kitsch products. Most common is the exchange of coatsof-arms, banners, medals, coins, and other ‘souvenirs’ of a more intimate nature, which will express a more personal relationship between giver and receiver without any superficial political motives, though nevertheless implying ‘diplomatic’ awareness. Even if the purpose is to effectuate a positive influence on the recipient’s opinion, these gifts remain a giveaway and can be left by the authority to the officials for personal use, who normally use them as office decorations. The Austrian Armed Forces also have – as is common with other European Armies42 – specific regulations that govern their own giving of ‘representation-presents’ to commemorate certain events, show appreciation or gratitude towards foreign military personnel. This assortment consists of at least 37 different items, including models of canons, ashtrays, Schnapps-glasses, coats-of-arms etc. Some of them are strictly reserved for use by the Minister of Defence and Sports and the highest authorities of the Ministry, respectively the General-Staff of the Armed Forces, as the value of the gift has to principally refer to the event or the position of the donor and the receiver. Thus, finally, the selection of a suitable gift for the military remains, as always, a delicate task… d 26 39 Regulations of the Federal Minister of Defence and Sport on the handling of diplomatic gifts, article 1, BGBl II. Nr. 12/2012. Until today, there has been no disposal by public auction or sale. 40 Muthanna 2011, p. 6. 41 The transfer of military badges to third parties (‘as souvenir’) is per se not allowed in the Austrian Armed forces (§602 service provision for the army GZ S92011 /71-FGG7/ 2006 Vienna, September 2006). 42 Armeestab-Ib V. Christoph Hatschek s The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts Bibliography Allmayer-Beck 1965 Johann Christoph Allmayer-Beck, ‘Die Archive der k.u.k. Militärbevollmächtigten und MilitärAdjoints im Kriegsarchiv Wien. Ein Beitrag zur militärgeschichtlichen Quellenkunde’, in: Österreich und Europa. Festgabe für Hugo Hantsch zum 70. Geburtstag. Graz – Wien – Köln 1965, pp. 351–378. Armeestab-Ib V Militärprotokoll 3003 Bern Einladungen ausländischer Botschaften zu Empfängen und Essen. Bachmann 2003–2004 Klaus Bachmann, ‘Clash of Cultures im Biedermeier’, in: Truppendienst, no. 272 (2003), pp. 428–432; no. 273 (2003), pp. 526–532; no. 274 (2004), pp. 29–34. Berking 1996 Helmuth Berking, Schenken: zur Anthropologie des Gebens. Frankfurt am Main – New York 1996. Beyerle 1980 Gustav Beyerle, ‘The Compromise at Zsitvatorok’, in: Archivum Ottomanicum, 6 (1980), pp. 5–53. Bundesdienstgesetz 1979 Bundeskanzleramt, Rechtsinformationssystem website: https://www.ris.bka.gv.at/GeltendeFassung.wxe?Abfrage=Bundesnormen&Gesetzesnummer =10008470 (accessed May 2016). Bundesdienstgesetz 2011 Bundeskanzleramt, Rechtsinformationssystem website: https://www.ris.bka.gv.at/GeltendeFassung.wxe?Abfrage=Bundesnormen&Gesetzesnummer =10008470 (accessed May 2016). Burschel 2007 Peter Burschel, ‘Der Sultan und das Hündchen. Zur politischen Ökonomie des Schenkens in interkultureller Perspektive’, in: Historische Anthropologie, 15 (2007), pp. 408–421. Craig 2001 Gordon A. Craig, Krieg, Politik und Diplomatie. Wien – München – Ulm 2001. Duchhardt 1975 Heinz Duchhardt, ‘Das diplomatische Abschiedsgeschenk’, in: Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 57 (1975), pp. 345–362. Etzelsdorfer 2013 Hannes Etzelsdorfer, Die Reisen der Habsburger. Von Kavalierstouren, Brautschau und hoher Diplomatie. Wien 2013. Ewert and Hirschbiegel 2000 Ulf Christian Ewert and Jan Hirschbiegel, ‘Gabe und Gegengabe. Das Erscheinungsbild einer Sonderform höfischer Repräsentation am Beispiel des französisch/burgundischen Gabentausches zum neuen Jahr um 1400’, in: Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 87 (2000), pp. 5–37. 27 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Falcke 2006 Jeanette Falcke, Studien zum diplomatischen Geschenkwesen am brandenburgisch-preußischen Hof im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert. Berlin 2006. Ferus 2007 Andreas Ferus, Die Reise des kaiserlichen Gesandten David Ungnad nach Konstantinopel im Jahre 1572. Wien 2007. Gadi, Groebner and Jussen 2003 Negotiating the Gift: Pre-modem Figurations of Exchange. Algazi Gadi, Valentin Groebner und Bernhard Jussen (eds.). Göttingen 2003 (Veröffentlichungen des Max-Planck-Instituts für Geschichte, 188). Groebner 2000 Valentin Groebner, Gefährliche Geschenke. Ritual, Politik und die Sprache der Korruption in der Eidgenossenschaft im späteren Mittelalter und am Beginn der Neuzeit. Konstanz 2000. Grüne and Slanička 2010 Korrpution: Historische Annäherungen an eine Grundfigur politischer Kommunikation. Simon Grüne and Simona Slanička (eds.). Göttingen 2010. Häberlein and Jeggle 2012 Materielle Grundlagen der Diplomatie. Schenken, Sammeln und Verhandeln in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit. Mark Häberlein and Christof Jeggle (eds.). Konstanz 2012 (Irseer Schriften. Studien zur Wirtschafts-, Kultur- und Mentalitätsgeschichte, 9). Hartmann 1970 Franz Hartmann, Österreichs Beziehungen zu den Barbaresken und Marokko 1725–1830, phil.diss., Vienna 1970. Hatschek 2014 Christoph Hatschek, ‘The Thin Red Line We Walk: The Dilemma of Constantly Expanding Collections’, in: Acquisition and Disposial of Collections in Military Museums: a Challenge. (Papers from ICOMAM Conference, 2013). Rio de Janeiro 2014, pp. 52–60. Krischer 2007 André Krischer, ‘Souveränität als sozialer Status. Zur Funktion des diplomatischen Zeremoniells in der Frühen Neuzeit’, in: Diplomatische Praxis und Zeremoniell in Europa und dem Mittleren Osten in der Frühen Neuzeit. Jan-Paul Niederkorn, Ralf Kauz and Giori Rota (eds.). Wien 2007, pp. 1–32. Kubersky-Piredda and Pons 2013 Susanne Kubersky-Piredda und Salvator Salort Pons, ‘Ein Hofnarr als Agent. Zum diplomtischen Geschenkwesen am Hof Philipps II.’, in: Häberlein and Jeggle 2012, pp. 123–155. Kurz, Scheutz, Vocelka and Winkelbauer 2005 Das Osmanische Reich und die Habsburgermonarchie. Akten des internationalen Kongresses zum 150-jährigen Bestehen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, Wien, 22.–25. September 2004. Marlene Kurz, Martin Scheutz, Karl Vocelka and Thomas Winkelbauer (eds.). Wien 2005, pp. 251–279. Linz 1988 Kaiserliche Geschenke: Katalog Zur Ausstellung Im Schlossmuseum Linz, Vom 26. Juni Bis Mitte September 1988. Eva Ottilinger (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Linz 1988. 28 Christoph Hatschek s The Blessing and Curse of (Military) Diplomatic Gifts Müller 2005 Ralf C. Müller, ‘Der umworbene “Erbfeind”: Habsburgische Diplomatie an der Hohen Pforte vom Regierungsantritt Maximilians I. bis zum “Langen Türkenkrieg” – Ein Entwurf ’, in: Kurz, Scheutz, Vocelka and Winkelbauer 2005, pp. 251–279. Muthanna 2011 Kodandera Arjun Muthanna, ‘Military Diplomacy’, in: Journal of Defence Studies, 5 (2011), pp. 1–15. Petritsch 1993 Ernst D. Petritsch, ‘Tribut oder Ehrgeschenk? Ein Beitrag zu den habsburgisch-osmanischen Beziehungen in der zweiten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts’, in: Archiv und Forschung. Das Haus, Hofund Staatsarchiv in seiner Bedeutung für die Geschichte Österreichs und Europas. Elisabeth Springer and Leopold Kammerhofer (eds.). Wien 1993, pp. 49–58. Regele 1961 Oskar Regele, ‘Die Entwicklung der habsburgisch-lothringischen Militär-Diplomatie’, in: Mitteilungen des Österreichischen Staatsarchivs, 14 (1961), pp. 300–316. Reindl-Kiel 2005 Hedda Reindl-Kiel, ‘Ottoman-European Cultural Exchange. East is East and West is West, and Sometimes the Twain did meet diplomatic Gift Exchange in the Ottoman Empire’, in: Frontiers of Ottoman studies: State, Province, and the West. Colin Imber, Keiko Kiyotaki and Rhoads Murphey (eds.). London 2005, pp. 113–123 (The Library of Ottoman Studies, 6). Reindl-Kiel 2013 Hedda Reindl-Kiel, ‘Symbolik, Selbstbild und Beschwichtigungsstrategien: Diplomatische Geschenke der Osmanen für den Wiener Hof (17.–18. Jahrhundert)’, in: Frieden und Konfliktmanagement in interkulturellen Räumen. Das Osmanische Reich und die Habsburgermonarchie in der Frühen Neuzeit. Arno Strohmeyer and Norbert Spannenberger (eds.). Stuttgart 2013, pp. 265–282 (Forschungen zur Geschichte und Kultur des Östlichen Mitteleuropa, 45). Ritter 2010 The RESPONSibility rests with me. Code of Conduct to Prevent Corruption. Stefan Ritter (ed.). Bundeskanzerlamt Österreich. Wien 2010. Rudolph 2005 Harriet Rudolph, ‘Türkische Gesandtschaften ins Reich am Beginn der Neuzeit- Herrschaftsinszenierung, Fremdheitserfahrung und Erinnerungskultur’, in: Kurz, Scheutz, Vocelka and Winkelbauer 2005, pp. 295–314. Rudolph 2012 Harriet Rudolph, ‘Fürstliche Gaben? Schenkakte als Elemente der politischen Kultur im Alten Reich’, in: Häberlein and Jeggle 2012, pp. 5–27 (Irseer Schriften. Studien zur Wirtschafts-, Kultur- und Mentalitätsgeschichte, 9). Rudolph 2013/I Harriet Rudolph, ‘The Material Culture of Diplomacy. The Impact of Objects on the Dynamics of Habsburg-Ottoman Negotiations at the Sublime Porte (1530–1650)’, in: Politische Kommunikation zwischen Imperien. Der diplomatische Aktionsraum Südost- und Osteuropa. Gunda Barth-Scalmani, Harriet Rudolph und Christian Steppan (eds.). Innsbruck – Wien – Bozen 2013, pp. 211–237 (Innsbrucker Historische Studien, 29). 29 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Rudolph 2013/II Harriet Rudolph, ‘The Ottoman Empire and the Institutionalization of European Diplomacy, 1500– 1700’, in: Islam and International Law. Engaging Self-Centrism from a Plurality of Perspectives. MarieLuisa Frick and Andreas Thomas Müller (eds.). Leiden 2013, pp. 161–183. Schwedler 2011 Gerald Schwedler, ‘Diplomatische Geschenke unter Königen im Spätmittelalter. Freundschaft und Gabentausch zwischen politischer Praxis und der schriftlichen Norm der Fürstenspiegelliteratur’, in: Grünbart 2011, pp. 145–186. Severi 2005 Bart Severi, ‘Representation and Self Consciouness in 16th Century Habsburg Diplomacy in the Ottoman Empire’, in: Kurz, Scheutz, Vocelka and Winkelbauer 2005, pp. 281–294. Signori 2011 Gabriela Signori, ‘Geschenke erhalten die Freundschaft. Freundschaftsideal und Freundschaftspraxis in der mittelalterlichen Briefliteratur’, in: Grünbart 2011, pp. 187–208. Taylor 1948 Alan John Percivale Taylor, The Habsburg Monarchy 1809–1918. a History of the Austrian Empire and Austria-Hungary. London 1948 (repr. 1990). Thiessen 2010 Hillard von Thiessen, ‘Korrupte Gesandte? Konkurrierende Normen in der Diplomatie der Frühen Neuzeit’, in: Grüne and Slanička 2010, pp. 205–220. Wien 2013 Schloss Ambras Innsbruck. Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. Wien 2013. Windler 2000 Christian Windler, ‘Tribut und Gabe. Mediterrane Diplomatie als interkulturelle Kommunikation’, in: Saeculum, 51 (2000), pp. 24–56. Yonan 2009 Michael Yonan, ‘Portable Dynasties: Imperial Gift-giving at the Court of Vienna in the Eighteenth Century’, in: The Court Historian, 14 (2009), pp. 177–188. 30 Ilse Bogaerts (Royal Museum of the Armed Forces and Military History, Brussels) The Value of Donations: One Hundred Years of the Acquisition Policy of the Royal Army Museum, Brussels \ In this paper I seek to explain the origin of the collections of the Royal Museum of the Armed Forces and Military History (Koninklijk Museum van het Leger en de Krijgsgeschiedenis, henceforth: KLM-MRA) in Brussels, as well as to illustrate how these collections continued to grow in quantity and quality by donations of militaria from private collectors and non-profit organizations. One of the goals of this paper is to foster good relations with heritage enthusiasts who, due to the museum’s policy, have not been recognized over the past decade as suitable guardians and ‘connoisseurs’ of military heritage. Today, curators and directors often consider these experts as some kind of competition or opponents rather than collaborators. This situation is very unlike the nineteenth century, when private collectors were considered experts and were recognized by governments and their officials. It is worth bearing in mind that it was the generous donations of these private experts who often formed the basis of the great museum collections of today. Museums around Europe, and in the wider world, were created as a result of donations of related objects which have a historical, social, artistic, industrial archaeological or scientific value. If these collections were deemed to be of social relevance to a region or nation, they became accessible to the public. As a direct result of this, these museums often became subsidized and supported by the government and were given a museum building and staff. This is was what happened in the museums of Brussels too. The militaria collection of Louis Leconte (1880–1970) could serve as a perfect example of museums-collectors cooperation and symbiosis. The collection was exhibited in 1910 at the Brussels World Fair, where some 900 militaria objects, mostly uniforms, equipment, weapons, badges and medals, were put on display. Leconte’s goal was to give visitors an idea of the history of the Belgian armed forces since the creation of the kingdom of Belgium in 1830. The collection attracted a lot of attention at the World Expo and as a result the Belgian state decided in 1911 that Leconte’s collection would remain a permanent exhibition in the rooms of the Royal Military School in the Bois de la Cambre (near Brussels) (Fig. 1). With the outbreak of the World War I three years later, the museum and its collections were used to promote patriotism and the state of 31 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Militaria on display in 1910 at the Brussels World Fair d Belgium, and to show that Belgium was fighting side by side with France, Great Britain, the United States and other allied powers. One of the results of the Great War, which was fought primarily on Belgian soil, was the rapid growth of the collection of war artefacts in the late 1920s and 1930s. Louis Leconte was appointed the museum’s head curator and he was pro-active in obtaining new items for the institution, through purchases and acceptances of donations from collectors and other sources. a direct result of this soon became apparent. The museum collection outgrew its accommodation in the Military Academy. To provide more space, the museum was transferred to the imposing buildings in the Cinquantenaire Park in the heart of Brussels, built for the World Expo of 1910, the centrepiece of the building complex being the monumental triumphal arch (Fig. 2). What certainly contributed to the uniqueness of the World War I uniform collection are the exchanges – thanks to Franco-Belgian (secret) military agreements – with the countries who kept ties with France during the interwar period. The museum received not only ‘war booty’ but also the uniforms of all countries who had taken part in the World War I because the pro-active curator requested these countries supply examples to the museum! In this way, the museum acquired all its First World War uniforms on display just by ‘asking’ at the right time. One bonus of this was that these countries donated to the museum not damaged artefacts but items that were in an unused condition. 32 Ilse Bogaerts s The Value of Donations Fig. 2. KLM-MRA Museum in Parc du Cinquantenaire d Fig. 3. World War I exhibition in the KLM-MRA, circa 2002 d In this manner, the KLM-MRA came into the possession of uniforms and equipment from the Baltic states (Latvia, Estonia and Finland) and elsewhere around the world including India, Russia, Africa, America, Australia and Canada. Hence, mannequins displaying World War I items in the museums feature exotic equipment worn and used by dafadars (sergeants) of the ‘19th King George’s Own Lancers Regiment’ in British India, but also Egyptian riders in the Dromedarissenkorps or Bengal lancers, Russian Cossacks, and Ethiopian Fitaurari (Fig. 3). 33 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Today, due to the location in the heart of the European Quarter of Brussels and next to the Belgian royal palace, the museum is visited by many diplomats, Eurocrats and international visitors. These visits are popular because almost every nationality can find a display of his or her own country, in a Belgian or European context. To this day, the museum still receives donations from dignitaries who feel that their country is under-represented in the First World War exhibition. Usually, if the objects are an addition to our collection and are authentic historical items, the museum gladly accepts such diplomatic gifts. However, such donations can also have a negative effect. In 2003 the museum received a message from the Turkish embassy that they were disappointed with the fact that only a few typical Turkish edged weapons were exhibited in a showcase devoted to the Ottoman Empire in the World War I. In the same week, they donated a full mannequin in uniform and equipment that Museum had to exhibit alongside typical Ottoman guns and edged weapons like curved daggers. But the fabric of the uniform was, for sure, not authentic. It was a copy of a Turkish uniform from the interwar period with synthetic fabric made in the 1950s. For this reason, the museum couldn’t exhibit it. And because they were unhappy with the small number of objects, the director decided to dismantle the Turkish display… And only when the museum acquired authentic Turkish uniforms and arms would a new display be made. The donation from the Turkish Embassy had the wrong, counterproductive results. ICOM members and the museologists may be familiar with KLM-MRA’s ‘historic hall’, which tells the story of the Belgian army in the nineteenth century. This particular room is filled almost entirely with items donated to the museum from the army or from private benefactors, as well as from town and city governments. The historical monumental paintings and many portraits are either long-term loans from the Royal Museum of Fine Arts or donated by important patrons of the museum. For example, Count Louis Cavens (1850– 1940) gave more than 389 objects of historical and artistic value, many of which were portraits and monumental paintings that hang today in the historic hall of the museum. Another benefactor of the museum was Count Robert de Ribeaucourt (1875–1959) who provided 2,490 objects on long-term loan, of which more than half is on display. The same is also true of the collection of George Louis Joseph Titeca (1874–1911). His ‘Napoleonic’ and nineteenth century collection of about 2,470 objects are on display in the rooms high up in the arcades. In 1939, the collector Emile Brouwet (1864–1941) donated many prints, historical works of art on paper, bladed weapons, medals and insignia to the museum. It was also his donation that initiated the museum’s collection of Medals and Decorations. The hall dedicated to Russian objects including the uniforms of the last three tsars, Tsarevitch Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov (1904-1918), and many unique and valuable officers’ mess objects were donated during the turbulent interwar years to KLM-MRA in the form of a long-term loan. The officers of the former Imperial Cossack Regiment (Ancien Impérial Guard Russe) fled from Paris to Brussels in the 1930’s because they did not trust the political situation in France with the Front Populaire (coalition of left parties). So, as a direct result of this, their collections were transferred from Paris to Brussels because they had trust in the stable political situation in Belgium. a good relationship with the museums former director no doubt helped immensely as well. In addition, the 34 Ilse Bogaerts s The Value of Donations Fig. 4. KLM-MRA’s hall of aircraft d Belgian government supported these Russian refugees, many of whom descended from noble families, by allowing them to study at the University of Leuven and helping them start a new life. Another source of donations to the museum came from non-profit organizations that closed down. When the War Veterans of Mexico and later the War Veterans of the Force Publique (i.e. military force of the former Congo Free State and Belgian Congo, today’s Democratic Republic of the Congo) were dissolved, they gave their property to the museum. Members of these associations, from general to soldier, followed the organizations example, and made private donations of items to the museum. In 1970, a huge expansion of the museum began: some 90 aircraft were housed in the massive Great Hall of the Cinquantenaire Building where the history of the Belgian and European aviation industry is presented (Fig. 4). And finally the Navy also got their own exhibition space. As the collections grew in number and diversity, new departments were established with their own exhibition space, to reflect all the armed forces of Belgium. In 1976 the government decided to recognize the museum as a scientific institution of the Belgian Federal Government and renamed it the Royal Museum of the Army and Military History. Today, the museum displays more than a thousand years of military history which is listed chronologically or thematically through the collections of uniforms, flags, weapons, vehicles, aircraft and artwork. Thanks to this diversity, there are more than 100,000 items on show in display cases, and around 250,000 people visit the museum every year. The museum is listed on the Tripadvisor website as one of the top attractions in Brussels. People remain fascinated by the multitude of diverse historical objects on display, ranging from a battering ram to a F-16 aircraft; precious swords and crossbows to large tanks; from the glamour of Napoleonicera uniforms to modern camouflage outfits and many artworks. 35 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Due to the multitude of objects the museum has, with far more items in store than on display, the museum has recently been able to open two satellite museums, one in Bastogne and one in Dixmude; a third out-station of the museum is planned to open in the near future in Brasschaat. Tanks from both world wars are kept at Bastogne, whilst The Trench of Death Museum, with original trenches from the World War I, is located in Dixmude (Diksmuide) where Belgian troops held out for four years against the enemy. At the artillery arsenal at Brasschaat, north of Antwerp near the Dutch border, the story is told of the Belgian Artillery from year 1830 to 2000. The rich military heritage on display at these locations, has for its greater part been formed by donations of militaria. It is therefore important for the museum to foster good relations with militaria collectors and enthusiasts. As with all things in life, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. An example is a group of 912 objects from the collection of British First World War and Second World War militaria that was donated to KLM-MRA in 1997 by the David G. Ford Museum in Surrey, England. This was primarily due to the curator-collector having a good relationship with the scientific staff of the KLM-MRA, which he did not have with his London colleagues. This was positive for KLM-MRA, but at the same time, the Museum had a similar problem with Belgian collectors who mostly donate or sell their collections abroad, often to France or the United States. In some cases today, collectors can be guided by short-term thinking regarding the use and eventual exhibition of their collections, because they don’t like the director of the museum and his policy or a particular public administration. But directors retire and aldermen disappear if their side lose elections, and the museum remains. However, it is sad to relate that the generous flow of private collections to public collections which the Army museum experienced in its earliest days has in the past decade almost dried up. The reasons for this lie with both parties. Private collectors collect and exhibit from a different perspective than museums do, which leads to mutual misunderstanding and even friction between the two. Today there is a significantly different acquisition policy in general compared to two decades ago. Donations are not accepted as easily, even though donation records have become much scarcer. Museum curators have to be both professional and work as civil servants. Of course the tasks of a museum have multiplied in a decade, from its core business – managing/mapping and showing collections – to educational projects and organizing blockbuster exhibitions for a wide audience and organizing temporary eye-catching events. For this we receive more staff from the government. This process is called modernization and professionalization, but at the same time a change/a fracture has arisen in the attitude of museum professionals towards private collectors who are potential donors. The museum staff see themselves as exclusive experts and guardians of the military heritage they manage. However, the role of ‘connoisseur’ was previously (from the eighteenth to the twentieth century) fulfilled by the private collector. They have now become competitors. Museum staff now see themselves as the final arbiters in matters, as being the exclusive experts on a subject, and somehow superior to vastly knowledgeable and experienced collectors. In the collectors world, a kind of suspicion has arisen regarding curators/directors who find that outsiders like visitors, collectors, researchers and many others should not interfere with the museum management and they are seen as a nuisance that gets in the 36 Ilse Bogaerts s The Value of Donations way of the running of the museum. Precisely because of this arrogance private collectors have become increasingly less inclined to donate their collections or parts of it to museums. They prefer to go to auctions or they try to found a museum themselves. One argument used to support the founding of private museums is that newly obtained items may never go on display and instead languish in museum store rooms, often contrary to the wish of the benefactor who donated the items. The museum professional uses the same argument for not accepting an object, often giving the reason that there is a shortage of storage and exhibition space. It is certainly a fact that conservation is very expensive. When I think that 75% of core collections of the Army Museum are private donations, it seems to me important to rebuild these relationships between the museum, collectors and other heritage enthusiasts. We should build trust and consider them as equals and allies, not as competitors. In this way it is hoped that the wishes of a possible donator and the museum can be brought into agreement. Perhaps one way of doing so is that donors should get more tax breaks and more legal certainty about the ‘perpetual inalienable’ rights of the items they have donated. Furthermore, new legal but creative contracts between the museum and other parties need to be made to confirm verbal agreements to ensure that the wishes of the donor are met. The museum professional can in return give tips on curating collections, as well as guidance on conservation and the storage of items, the publishing of catalogues, as well as presenting exhibitions. Without these new alliances being made with collectors and other heritage bodies, the development of the museum, and the heritage it presents will stagnate, with no new exhibitions or temporary displays to mark anniversaries, commemorate people, or to re-new current exhibitions with new material. This requires a change in mentality between the museum professional and external bodies. The museum must embrace collectors and other heritage bodies and work as equal partners, and work to a common goal of persevering and developing the exhibition of our common heritage. We need to engage with researchers who wish to study the collection, with collectors who may loan items for exhibitions or even donate items to the museum once more. d 37 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Gubbels & Van Hammersveld 2010 Truss Gubbels, Ineke Van Hamersveld, Bondgenoten of tegenpolen? Samenwerking tussen kunstverzamelaars en musea in Nederland. Amsterdam 2010. Leconte 1910 Louis Leconte, Catalogue du Musée de l’armée. Brussels 1910. Openbaar Kunstbezit Vlaanderen 2003 ‘Het Koninklijk Museum van het Leger en de Krijgsgeschiedenis te Brussel; te land, ter zee en in de lucht’, in: Openbaar Kunstbezit Vlaanderen (OKV), 2 (2003), p. 44. Van Der Ploeg 1999 Frederick Van Der Ploeg, ‘Inleiding’, in: Grenzen aan de groei. Selectieprocessen rond museale collecties. Amsterdam 1999. 38 Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi (National Museums Scotland) Re-capturing the British Imperial Past \ Intercultural exchange is not the first concept which comes to mind when considering the collections of artefacts in military museums brought back from colonial campaigns by British servicemen in the era of empire. While practices of acquisition and appropriation are aspects of the culture of war which can be traced back to antiquity, and which are in evidence in the history of warfare throughout the world, the asymmetry of much of British colonial warfare in the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and the connotations of cultural and racial superiority which often came with it, means that associations of looting and trophy-taking are the most obvious initial response. Systematic looting by British imperial forces, at certain places and certain times is documented and well-known. Salient examples include the storming of the fortress of Srirangapatna, Mysore, India in 1799,1 and the looting and destruction of the Yuanming Yuan, or Summer Palace, in Beijing, China in 1860.2 This was not, however, the full story. An interdisciplinary research initiative underway in the United Kingdom aims to reappraise non-European military collections and is now considering a complex range of motivations for military collecting which range, on the one hand, from the deliberate and systematic looting of captured fortresses or cities with which we in the post-colonial world are perhaps now most familiar, to the exchange of gifts and trade between military allies on the other. The research is interdisciplinary in character, being led by two specialists in different fields at National Museums Scotland, who are working in partnership with the National Army Museum in London. Stuart Allan, Principal Curator in Scottish Late Modern collections, works on the Scottish military collections and imperial history; Henrietta Lidchi, Keeper of World Cultures, is an anthropologist who works on non-European museum collections and histories. Our shared interest began in conversations about an object in the Scottish collections, an elaborately engraved powder horn engraved in 1758 during the Seven Years War (1756–1763) also known in North America as the French and Indian 1 Buddle 2009; Davis 1994. 2 Hevia 1994. 39 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Decorated powder horn with Iroquois burden strap, carried by a soldier of the Black Watch on campaign in North America, 1758 (National Museums Scotland, M.1931.581) d War.3 In the different aspects of its history, the powder horn acts here as a useful introduction to the project. Engraved powder horns are a well-known aspect of the material culture of that conflict and these are of considerable interest to North American collecting institutions and private collectors.4 Several of those which have survived are decorated with detailed maps of the theatre of war, others, like the one in question, with more personalised imagery or inscriptions, including a folk rhyme which appears on other examples. The powder horn in the Scottish national collection is inscribed with two names, one Jonathan Webb, possibly an amateur engraver and colonial militiaman, and the other James Cameron, a Scottish soldier of the British army who was serving with the 42nd Highlanders along the Saint Lawrence River Valley (Fig. 1). Cameron’s regiment, better known as the Black Watch, was part of a substantial British presence whose objective, aided by their Native American, First Nation and colonial allies, was to counter the influence of France in North America. The powder horn appears to place Webb, and conceivably also Cameron, in a specific location at a specific time, with the inscription ‘Horn made at Leake Gorge, Sept 1, 1758’. An encampment near the shore of Lake George was the site of the regiment’s quarters at that time, south of the scene of its costly participation in the failed British assault on Fort Ticonderoga (or Carillon) two months earlier.5 40 3 National Museums Scotland, accession number M.1931.581. 4 Grinslade 2009. 5 Cannon 1845, p. 48. Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi s Re-capturing the British Imperial Past What stands out as most unusual however, and what first attracted the interest of Lidchi to this object, is the foreshortened Iroquois burden strap which is attached to the powder horn. While there are many surviving mid–eighteenth century powder horns from the campaign, few bear the traces of Iroquois material culture. Burden straps were multipurpose items intended to be used for carrying and are found as a consistent feature in historic Woodland collections in Europe.6 This one is made of woven and plaited nettle fibre, with ‘false embroidery’ of dyed moose-hair in the central portion, which is also delicately edged with white glass beads, to create colourful and dazzling geometric patterns. As such, it is of scholarly interest far beyond the usual constituency of military history and British military material culture in which it has largely been viewed up to this point, albeit that its intercultural interest has been acknowledged in two published works.7 In the last year, the powder horn has been the subject of discussions at a gathering of historians, anthropologists and First Nation community members at the Woodlands Cultural Centre in Brantford, Ontario, sharing research into the civilisation and arts of the Great Lakes region as part of a larger collaborative project to bring light to historic collections and contemporary indigenous perspectives.8 In 2013 and early 2014 it was lent to a major German international exhibition On the Trails of the Iroquois at the Bundeskunsthalle in Bonn and the MartinGropius-Bau in Berlin.9 But the point of our current work on this project is not only to identify those contents of military collections which might engage and excite those of wider anthropological and historical interests, although we are glad when we do. Our intention is to make such objects better known, and to understand them better in their different contexts, not least in the histories and cultures of the military organisations which acquired them. Indeed, the powder horn and its Iroquois strap tell us something about the logistics and tactics of the British army of the mid-eighteenth century as it contended with the demands of prosecuting a campaign in the North American woodlands terrain. As an adaptation to the type of mobile, skirmishing warfare that the situation required, the 42nd and other British infantry battalions trained and equipped new light companies to operate independently and flexibly in reconnaissance and other irregular duties. Operating unsupported for extended periods in the field, their role required some alterations to the equipment of conventional line infantry. Most relevant here is that extra ammunition was required, which meant that, along with extra gun flints and musket balls, a horn for extra gunpowder was issued to each man so he could make up his own cartridges.10 6 Stephenson 2007, pp. 56–58; King 1982, pp. 74–75. 7 a photograph of the powder horn has appeared as an illustration in Allan and Carswell 2004, plate 3.5, and Calloway 2008, p. 101. 8 Indigenous Heritages of the Great Lakes: New Perspectives and New Knowledge, Second GRASAC Research Conference 13–14 June 2014. 9 Bonn 2013, p. 172. 10 Gale 2007, p. 122. 41 The Ambassadors of Dialogue It is unclear whether all the men of the light company of the 42nd Highlanders used Iroquois burden straps to carry their powder horns. This example might possibly represent a case where a more conventional European strap had to be replaced. But the likely origin of the supply appears in manuscript sources held in the regimental collection at the Black Watch Castle and Museum in Perth, Scotland. These record that in 1759 the light company of the 42nd was issued with burden straps, or ‘tumplines’ as they were called, to tie up their blanket rolls for sleeping in the field.11 The powder horn strap therefore is not a curio or trophy of campaign, but an item of supply sourced and presumably purchased locally by the British from their Iroquois allies. Discussions at the Woodland Cultural Centre with indigenous and non-indigenous historians debated possible explanations for the manufacture and supply of indigenous products, such as burden straps, to the British military commissary and considered possible sources of evidence for this phenomenon, as yet undocumented in the literature. The object is a fascinating legacy of intercultural exchange, revealing not only information about the military history of the period but also the context in which it came into being during a time of war amid shifting Native American, First Nation and European allegiances. As a cross-cultural object born of a military alliance, the powder horn challenges some of the more obvious assumptions which might be made about military collecting. The powder horn is in the national collection, but it is instructive that the information which helps to explain it came from a regimental museum source. There are over 130 military museums in the United Kingdom, preserving the historical collections of British services, corps and regiments. Each collection contains assemblages of artefacts acquired by British servicemen in colonial warfare and on imperial garrison duties across the globe, variously acquired as trophies, prizes, souvenirs, curios and specimens. Material brought back to the United Kingdom from campaign and garrison service overseas includes the proceeds of looting, trophy taking and souvenir hunting, but there are also instances of co-operation, diplomatic exchange and of systematic collecting informed by those with archaeological, anthropological and scientific interests. In order to understand the full range of encounters and relationships which are represented by these collections, we have completed two complementary pilot studies in collaboration with Alastair Massie, Head of Academic access at the National Army Museum. The first of the studies, funded by the Royal Society of Edinburgh, brought together museum and academic colleagues from across the disciplines of anthropology and military history for a series of research workshops (Fig. 2). In lighter moments, this unconventional pairing has been compared to a social anthropological experiment in participant observation. The result has been a successful meeting of minds. Our discussions have used initial surveys of selected military museum collections in Scotland and London to consider such issues as the status and identity of particular collections, their function in the self-contained 11 42 1759, April 30, Orderly book of Captain James Stewart’s Company, 1759–1761. Black Watch Castle and Museum, A.758.1-5. Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi s Re-capturing the British Imperial Past Fig. 2. Research workshop participants examining regimental collections held by the National Army Museum, 2014 (National Army Museum) d community of the regiment of corps, and the significance of the widespread practice of modifying and enhancing objects to embed them in regimental and corps history. We have also explored the formal and informal frameworks in which the range of military collecting, from officially sanctioned systematic looting to private souvenir-taking, has been carried out at different periods. The workshops have identified a dearth of research and literature on this sensitive subject, which is a gap in knowledge that we wish to address. We have also discussed the complex relationship between non-European material held in military museums and similar collections held by national cultural institutions. These often have similar origins, and in certain instances can be directly linked, but the neutralising effect of anthropological and art historical curatorship as practiced in national cultural institutions means they have been recorded and understood in an entirely different way. Close to home for the project leaders, recent doctoral research by Inbal Livne, supervised in collaboration between National Museums Scotland and the University of Stirling, and funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council, has re-discovered valuable information about the military context of cultural transfer regarding a significant element of our Tibetan collections.12 Originally acquired by a British officer who served with the Younghusband Mission of 1904, these have a common origin with material in the National Army Museum. Our second pilot study of military museums, funded by the British Academy and the Leverhulme Trust, permitted us to survey in detail regimental and corps collections focussing on two of the campaigns already highlighted in this paper: the Seven Years War in 12 Livne 2013. 43 The Ambassadors of Dialogue North America (1756–1763) and the Younghusband Mission to Tibet of 1904, campaigns selected for survey in order to build on our existing knowledge and to compare two very different campaigns from either end of the British imperial era. Despite the relative rarity of objects from the Seven Years’ War, surveyed objects further demonstrated that material brought back to this country reflected co-operative and supply relationships with indigenous people, thereby challenging the more obvious assumptions about military collecting in relation to looting and souvenir-hunting. Similar complexities emerged from our assessment of objects brought back from Tibet, a campaign associated with the inordinate appropriation of objects.13 Relevant material in regimental and corps museum collections was found not to conform primarily to the stereotype of systematic or uncontrolled military looting but rather tended to reflect the military cultural practice of souvenir hunting and accidental tourism inherent in overseas military service. Our surveys revealed a hierarchy of collecting in which lower-status objects, often bought rather than taken, came through time into the ownership of regimental and corps museums. These are distinct from higher-status objects removed from Tibetan Buddhist monasteries which were passed by senior expedition members to larger anthropological museums. We also highlighted the common practice of compiling and annotating photograph albums, as a means of recording experience popular among Younghusband Mission members of varying status. Our project research assistant Rosanna Nicolson reviewed objects both on display and in storage, mess silver collections, photographic collections, diaries and correspondence, regimental magazines and journals, and archival information about objects no longer in the collection. The results of these surveys were compiled in a digital catalogue which is available to project participants and interested parties. The success of the survey work in both pilot projects hinged on a collaborative methodology, where the project’s research assistants visited museums in person to study targeted collections, working closely with regimental and corps museum curators to survey, examine, photograph and identify relevant material, and researching the provenance of objects in related museum documentation and other archival holdings. It is one of the objectives of the project that research to date and in future should support enhanced interpretation of non-European objects in their host museums, and on this basis, with financial support from the National Army Museum, we have been holding feedback and knowledge-exchange events with staff from regimental and corps museums. From these, it is clear that there is active interest among curators and museum educators who wish to understand better and do more with these collections, previously overlooked or considered sensitive and difficult to interpret. Our pilot projects have given us a theoretical approach and sample information on which to base further systematic research, and we are building on our collaboration with the National Army Museum and the academic partnerships which we have established. We are currently preparing an edited volume for publication based on presentations and discussions at the research workshops, which we hope will generate wider interest, discussion 13 44 Harris 2012, pp. 49–78; Myatt 2012. Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi s Re-capturing the British Imperial Past and participation. Our next step is to seek further research funding towards dedicated studies of collections and supporting archives and documentation relating to British military campaigns in India (1792–1859) and Africa (1824–1900) along with further comparative studies. If we succeed in raising further funding support, we will produce a new body of empirical knowledge and theoretical analysis about military collecting in the British empire which can be disseminated through publication, online and exhibition outputs. There are obvious points for international comparison with research into military collecting of the non-European world by other former imperial powers, and with the literature of appropriation in intra-European warfare. And there is, of course, potential for a greater sharing of the knowledge of collections with colleagues in those parts of the world from which such objects were removed. Objects have been taken in war for as long as wars have been fought. Appropriation is part of the culture of war, and the retention of objects taken in war is part of the culture of military organisations. There is no hiding from the uncomfortable realities of looting in a war zone, a spectacle we have seen played out in the war zones of our own time. Nor should we seek to elide the attitudes of assumed superiority towards non-European peoples which could be embedded in colonial military collecting practices. This factor arguably adds a stigma to the colonial elements of military collections additional to the sensitivities around the appropriation of objects and art in wars between European powers.14 But our work to date suggests that military collections more commonly include pieces associated with colonial campaign and garrison service that were gifted, legitimately bought in markets, acquired individually as curios and trophies or, like the Iroquois burden strap, traded in a chain of logistic supply. There are relatively few objects in British military collections whose cultural value to communities of source today obviously transcends the shared interest we might take in their biographies of intercultural transfer. To properly appreciate these military collections and the encounters they represent, we believe we must achieve a balance in interpretation. This must take into account the complex contexts of acquisition, their historic importance to the cultural identities of the regiments and corps themselves, and their current significance to the communities of source who came into contact and conflict with the military forces of the British empire. Crucially, for those of us who value these collections, these objects are a source of information for attitudes, practices and experiences which, more often than not, are missing from the written record. d 14 On appropriation in European conflict see the collected papers in Nestor 2009. 45 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Archives: 1759, April 30, Orderly book of Captain James Stewart’s Company, 1759–1761. Black Watch Castle and Museum, A.758.1-5. Publications: Allan and Carswell 2004 Stuart Allan and Allan Carswell, The Thin Red Line: War, Empire and Visions of Scotland. Edinburgh 2004. Bonn 2013 On the Trails of the Iroquois. Sylvia S. Kasprycki (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, Bonn, 22 March to 4 August 2013; Martin-Gropius-Bau, Berlin, 18 October 2013 to 6 January 2014. Bonn 2013. Buddle 2009 Ann Buddle, ‘“What Sharks They Are”: Sunset at Srirangapatam’, in: Nestor 2009, pp. 119–126. Calloway 2008 Colin G. Calloway, White People, Indians, and Highlanders: Tribal People and Colonial Encounters in Scotland and America. Oxford 2008. Cannon 1845 Richard Cannon, Historical Record of the Forty-Second, or, the Royal Highland Regiment of Foot. London 1845. Davis 1994 Richard H. Davis, ‘Three Styles in Looting India’, in: History and Anthropology, 6, no. 4 (1994), pp. 293–317. Gale 2007 R.R. Gale, ‘A Soldier-Like Way’, the Material Culture of the British Infantry 1751–1768. Elk River 2007. Grinslade 2009 Tom Grinslade, Powder Horns: Documents of History. Texarkana 2009. Harris 2012 Clare E. Harris, The Museum on the Roof of the World: Art, Politics, and the Representation of Tibet. Chicago 2012. Hevia 1994 James L. Hevia, ‘Loot’s Fate. The Economy of Plunder and the Moral Life of Objects “From the Summer Palace of the Emperor of China”’, in: History and Anthropology, 6, no. 4 (1994), pp. 319–345. King 1982 J. C. H. King, Thunderbird and Lightning, Indian Life in Northeastern North America 1600–1900. London 1982. 46 Stuart Allan and Henrietta Lidchi s Re-capturing the British Imperial Past Livne 2013 Inbal Livne, Tibetan Collections in Scottish Museums 1890–1930: a Critical Historiography of Missionary and Military Intent. Diss. University of Stirling 2013 http://dspace.stir.ac.uk/handle/1893/20606 (accessed June 2015). Myatt 2012 Tim Myatt, ‘Looting Tibet: Conflicting Narratives and Representations of Tibetan Material Culture from the 1904 British Mission to Tibet’, in: Inner Asia, 14, no. 1 (2012), pp. 61–98. Nestor 2009 Sofia Nestor (ed.), War-Booty. a Common European Cultural Heritage. Stockholm 2009. Stephenson 2007 R. S. Stephenson, ‘The Decorative Art of Securing Captives in Eastern North American’, in: Three Centuries of Woodlands Indian Art. J.C.H. King and Christian Fees (eds.). Altenstadt 2007, pp. 55–66. 47 PART II Understanding ‘the Others’. The Dissemination of Ideas and Material Culture Robyn D. Radway (Princeton University, USA) Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe: The Material Culture of the Borderlands in Renaissance Depictions of the Ottoman World \ The third panel of Pieter Coecke van Aelst the Younger’s Moeurs et fachons de faire de Turcz (Customs and Fashions of the Turks, 1553) (Fig. 1 and 2) includes a turbaned figure carrying a curved trapezoidal shield sprouting feathers.1 Worn across his back and partly in shadow, the surface decoration consists of a thick border, a winged eagle foot with a protruding row of quills down the centre, and two circular bolts and a star to fasten the leather handles on the other side. Melchior Lorck’s (1526/1527 – after 1583) sixteenth-century woodcuts for his Turkish Publication includes four similarly feathered shields.2 Yet the type of wooden shield these figures carry is very different from the classic Ottoman kalkan, which was a convex disc made of metal or woven reeds and painted silks. The angled shield is a hussar targe, often labelled as a ‘Hungarian type’ by curators. Composed of a convex piece of wood lined with leather, then gessoed and painted, the shield enables full mobility of the right hand while providing protection of the left side and back through the shoulders. While the technique and tradition is clearly central European,3 in the sixteenth century, this type of shield, often with feathers attached, appears in countless Northern European images of Ottomans. Years ago, Pierre Terjanian, now director of the Department of Arms and Armour at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, asked me one simple question: ‘Were these shields Hungarian or Ottoman?’ I spent months coming up with an answer I found deeply unsatisfying: ‘both’. 1 There are several copies of this work preserved in its entirety in museum collections, among others in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam RP-P-OB-2304D; the Bibliothéque Royale de Belgique in Brussels, S II 32364; the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, 28.85.1-.7a, b. 2 See a full facsimile in Fischer, Bencard and Rasmussen 2009. 3 For an in-depth discussion of this, see the last chapter of Kovács 2010. 51 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Moeurs et fachons de faire de Turcz, 1533, fragment (photo: www.metmuseum.org) d This question has continued to haunt me. As a highly visible and symbolic piece of material culture, these shields have forced me to embrace the ambiguity of the region and to become more comfortable with the notion of ‘both’. In this brief article, I take a closer look at the feathered shield in the sixteenth century as an Ottoman costume element, both real and imagined. I begin by discussing three approaches to their study (object, text, and representation based), and then end with suggesting how the shield can and was misunderstood by artists, publishers, and viewers as they attempted to draw boundary markers where they did not exist in the overlapping borderlands of Ottoman Europe. An object-based approach attempts to trace the corpus of extant shields by developing a typology, and teasing out when and where such shields were used. My survey of the extant examples suggests that not one single authentic shield of this type is preserved in any collection of Ottoman arms and armour.4 Shields with feathers, such as the ones in Pieter Coecke’s and Melchior Lorck’s woodcuts, do not seem to exist at all.5 Instead, 52 4 Two later (early twentieth century?) copies are on display at the Askeri Museum in Istanbul. 5 The only feathered hussar targe known to exist is aesthetically very different from these, and can be found in the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s Hofjagd- und Rüstkammer, inv. No. B188. Used during the wedding celebrations of Archduke Ferdinand II and Anna Caterina Gonzaga in 1582, the painted shield with an allegorical image of Consantina in the centre includes 14 rows of small parrot feathers. See Innsbruck 2005, pp. 106–108 (entry by Matthias Pfaffenbichler). Robyn D. Radway s Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe Fig. 2. Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Moeurs et fachons…, detail including a turbaned figure carrying a curved trapezoidal shield sprouting feathers (photo: www.metmuseum.org) d a cohesive group of at least eleven examples have feathers painted onto their surfaces and can be traced back to Imperial Habsburg collections (Fig. 3).6 Their dramatically sweeping angles place them in the second half of the sixteenth century, and recent research has connected them to hussar tournaments held at the courts of Central Europe, where jousts were staged between contestants dressed up as Turks and Christians.7 Thus, taking an objectbased approach alone, one is tempted to suggest that such shields were never in use in the Ottoman Empire, but rather were part of the imagined Turk. 6 These include the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, Schloss Ambras Collection, inv. nos. WA 494, WA 2783; Hofjagd- und Rüstkammer, inv. no. RB 185; Hungarian National Museum, Budapest, inv. no. 55.3550; and at least four examples in the Forchtenstein Castle, Austria. 7 See the article and literature cited in Gulyás 2012. English translation forthcoming. 53 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. Shield with painted feathers, Hungary (?), 2nd half of the 16th c. (Hungarian National Museum in Budapest) d The second approach to studying these objects involves examining contemporary descriptions of light cavalry divisions employed on both sides of the border. Developed in the region for their speed and stealth, frequent mention is made of these hussars, and the deli branch of the akıncıs, who attack quickly, pillage, and retreat. Scholarly research on them is scant, with their later manifestation in the Polish military receiving the most thorough treatment.8 Evliyâ Çelebi (1611–1682), when comparing Hungarian to Ottoman soldiers in the seventeenth century, remarked that ‘they are no different from our frontier soldiers, wearing the same dress as they, and riding the same thoroughbred horses.’9 54 8 See the exhibition catalogue: Baltimore et al. 1999–2000. 9 ‘Ve serhadli askerimizden fark olunmaz, eyle esbâb geyüp küheylân at binerier…’, Evliyâ Çelebi 2007, volume 7, page 87. Robyn D. Radway s Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe He was not the only one to note this phenomenon, but did this similarity in costume extend to the use of the same shield? And if so, can we find descriptions of shields with wings and feathers? Yes and no. In Mustafa Celâlzâde Çelebi’s description of deli soldiers from his history of the reign of Sultan Süleyman,10 the historian describes a group of men participating in the Battle of Mohacs (1526) cloaked in leopard skins, crying out loudly, and carrying ‘teknese kalkanlar.’11 Teknese refers to the shape, made by scooping out one side of a log longitudinally like the hull of a ship. Thus, it seems that some form of curved shield was in fact used, but feathers do not appear. Reinhold Lubenau (1556–1631), a pharmacist member of the tribute-carrying delegation of 1587, mentions the deli at the court of the sanjak-bey of Esztergom. During their formal reception with the governor of this northeasternmost district of the Ottoman Empire, he notes a group of deli or wild fellows with feathers and other decorated armours standing behind the governor.12 Many other travellers note men with feathers, but they refer to the ubiquitous Balkan Sufi dervishes who pierce their skins during rituals and insert metal instruments and feathers into the wounds.13 Thus, a textual approach to the winged shields indicates the presence of feathers as decoration and curved shields, but not necessarily combined into the shield we see in Pieter Coecke’s Moeurs et fachons…. The third approach involves sifting through depictions of these shields by both European and Ottoman artists, viewing them not as factual representations of costume, but as reflections of the artist’s visual vocabulary. The wide-ranging corpus of visual evidence suggests that in the European imagination, Ottoman troops regularly utilized these angled wooden shields, often with wings attached. The angled hussar shield appears in the hands of Ottoman figures as early as the 1530s, in works such as the commemorative medal of the battle of Mohacs,14 which includes two rows of turbaned forward attacks carrying examples with crescents and stars decorating them. The feathered version of the shield seen in Moeurs et fachons… becomes prominent with the rise of the costume book tradition.15 Melchior Lorck, an artist accompanying the Ambassador Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq (1522–1592) in 1555, spent three and a half years in the Ottoman capital and travelled through the Balkan and Hungarian provinces.16 His set of 128 woodcuts are 10 This is the only early modern source cited by Uzunçarsili in the oft-cited entry on the deli in the Encyclopedia of Islam, see: Uzunçarşılı 1913; Celâlzâde 1981. 11 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Ms. Or. Quart. 1961, folio 143a. For a facsimile edition see Celâlzâde 1981. 12 Lubenau 1912, folio 95. 13 For just one example, see Busbecq 1881, p. 396. 14 Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, Münzkabinett, inv. nos. 2639bß, 2640 bß. Medal were reproduced in: Winter 2007, cat. 1782/1 and 1782/3; Brussels-Kraków 2015, cat. 9 and 10. 15 See the introduction in [Lambert de Vos] 1991. 16 For his catalogue raisonné see Fischer, Bencard and Rasmussen 2009. 55 The Ambassadors of Dialogue the most well-known and evocative examples of the genre. Work on the prints began a decade after his trip, but the project remained incomplete at the time of his death, with titles and text added to his images in 1646, 1683 and 1688.17 These later additions by seventeenth century publishers, who had no direct experience with the Ottomans and whose economic motivations led to a proclivity for the fantastic, include the only description of a deli soldier with a winged shield. Melchior Lorck is not the only one to include the feathered horsemen in his costume book. The 1574 Costume Book of Lambert de Vos,18 a Flemish artist in the retinue of Ambassador Karl Rijm (d. 1583), includes a ‘Commander from a Border Province’, which is remarkably similar to Abraham de Bruyn’s deli of 1577,19 produced in Flanders without any contact with Ottoman soldiers himself. These similarities point to a wider problem: artists recycled these stock images, both within the genre and outside of it. It was not only German and Flemish artists that depicted Ottomans with these shields. a number of Ottoman manuscripts also include them in images of campaigns against the Kingdom of Hungary. In an illuminated copy of Celâlzâde’s Tabakât from 1575, rows of turbaned Ottoman soldiers holding these shields appear during the siege of Belgrade. This manuscript, importantly, reflects the projections of a middling officer from the Hungarian provinces where it was made.20 The shields appear in other manuscripts as well: sometimes carried only by troops fighting for the Habsburgs and the Kingdom of Hungary, in others only by the Ottomans, and in a few, both sides carry them. But the shields only appear in images of Ottoman operations in the province of Budin and its surrounding area. What is more, these manuscripts often had artists working on them that were of Central European origin, such as painter E in the Süleymanname of 1558.21 In fact, the only examples I have found that include painted wings and feathers are in the two manuscripts this painter is known to have worked on.22 Thus, taking a representation-based approach, one is tempted to suggest that Ottoman utilization of this feathered shield or its painted version was very localized (to the Hungarian province of Budin), small-scale, and short-lived, if it happened at all. 56 17 Fischer, Bencard and Rasmussen 2009, pp. 12–20 suggests these were based on a now lost manuscript that accompanied these woodcuts. I find this argument unconvincing. 18 Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Bremen, Ms. or. 9. 19 Bruyn 1577. 20 This copy of the Tabakât ül-Memâlik ve Derecât ül-Mesâlik of Celâlzâde Mustafa Çelebi was produced by Ibrahim bin Ali of Szolnok in 1575. 21 Süleymanname (Book of Süleyman), Topkapi Sarayi H. 1517. Atil 1986. Painter E’s identity is not certain, but the hand was identified in a thorough analysis of the images in the introduction of this edition of the work. 22 The feathered shield appears in the Süleymanname discussed above and in the Fütûhât-ı Cemıle, TSM, Hazine 1592. For more on central European and Hungarian painters in the palace workshops see Atasoy 1970. Robyn D. Radway s Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe To this point, I addressed three approaches to studying these shields: object-based, text-based, and representation-based, and I will end with a few words on the multiple layers of misunderstanding that stand between the object and viewer, both historically and today. I suggest that these misunderstandings are the product of attempts to draw boundary markers where they did not exist in the overlapping borderlands of Ottoman Europe. Between Pieter Coecke’s trip to Constantinople in 1533 and the publication of his prints, the landscape of Ottoman Europe had shifted dramatically. Coecke crafted his design during a visit to the imperial centre in 1533, as an agent of a Brussels-based tapestry firm to prepare cartoons for a project with Grand Vizier Ibrahim Pasha (1493–1536). His widow, Mayken Verhulst, printed the design in 1553 following the artist’s death. In the intervening years, the once powerful former Kingdom of Hungary had split into three uncomfortable political entities with complex relationships to one another: Ottoman, Habsburg Hungary and Transylvania. Coecke’s 1533 trip took place after the initial fall of the Medieval Kingdom, but the Ottomans had not yet settled into the northernmost provinces. Two decades later the Ottomans had not only settled into the Budin province, but they were also shifting strategies towards a peace policy that would leave the border more or less stable for the next 40 years. Knowing how the borderland had changed, it is unlikely that Pieter Coecke would have seen a feathered shield in the hands of an Ottoman soldier in 1533 in Constantinople as he depicts it. Could this be a soldier from elsewhere? Or a conflation of a hussar from the border region with a turbaned cavalryman in the imperial centre? Or was this detail added to the design after 1533 as an embellishment, by either Pieter Coecke or his widow based on the descriptions of others? Perhaps the most important element in misunderstanding the shield (and material culture at large) in an Ottoman context, both historically and today, is the difficulty of grasping the composition of the Ottoman military itself during this period. The multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, bureaucratic organism referred to in the sixteenth century as the ‘Turkish Empire’, and the massive military it supported, was a conglomerate: a patchwork with permeable borders into which entrepreneuring men from the non-Muslim borderlands could always migrate and find an exciting and rewarding position to take up their shields and earn a large share of booty. Local troops joined the imperial army regularly to create one relentless war machine.23 Indeed, the borders between Ottoman and Habsburg Europe looked far from the clean lines we can imagine on our neat maps of empires. What exactly did Coecke see on his journey through the Balkans? How much did he know about what he was depicting? Was he himself able to distinguish between different types of troops? What about Lorck and the countless other contemporaries who made costume books on their trips? Were they able to differentiate between the light cavalry divisions of the various political entities involved? And what of painter E working in the imperial workshops in Istanbul? 23 For early empire, see Lowry 2003. 57 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Artists, I suggest, were an audience themselves to a world in which individuals and actors dressed up, changed sides, confused and muddled identities. a world in which distinctions were constantly breaking down. We cannot know how well contemporary observers themselves understood this world. The material culture of Ottoman Europe did not sit well with the culture of classification and labelling that took hold in the costume book tradition. The text below the images seems to be pinpointing an identity that cannot be fixed. This same problem confronts us in a museum setting today, The Museum System (TMS) and other cataloguing software require a culture field entry, and museum-goers expect to know where an object is ‘from’. We do not have the language to discuss the complexity of in-between-ness that is embodied in an object like this. Sure, we might look to post-colonialism and the rhetoric employed by scholars like Homi K. Bhabha, but his concepts do not map properly onto museum practices. So, in the end, are these objects Ottoman or Hungarian? My answer is still ‘both’, with a question mark. However, I have come to embrace this question mark and all the ambiguity it stands for. d 58 Robyn D. Radway s Misunderstanding Ottoman Europe Bibliography Atasoy 1970 Nurhan Atasoy, ‘1558. Tarihli “Süleymanname” ve Macar Nakkaş Pervane’, in: Sanat Tarihi Yıllığı, 3 (1970), pp. 167–196. Atil 1986 Esin Atil, Süleymanname: The Illustrated History of Süleyman the Magnificent. Washington 1986. Baltimore et al. 1999–2000 Land of the Winged Horsemen: Art in Poland, 1572–1764. Jan K. Ostrowski, Piotr Krasny and Kazimierz Kuczman (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Baltimore, Waters Art Museum; Chicago, Art Institute of Chicago; Huntsville, Huntsville Museum of Art; Tulsa, The Philbrook Museum of Art, 1999–2000. New Haven and London 1999. Brussels-Kraków 2015 The Sultan’s World. The Ottoman Orient in Renaissance Art. Robert Born, Michal Dziewulski, Guido Messling (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Brussels, Palais des Beaux-Arts; Krakow, Muzeum Narodowe 2015. Ostfildern 2015. Bruyn 1577 Abraham de Bruyn, Equitum descripcio, quomodo equestres copie..., Kenlen 1577. Busbecq 1881 Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, The Life and Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq. Charles Thornton Forster and Francis Henry Blackburne Daniell (eds.). 2 vols. London 1881. Celâlzâde 1981 Mustafa Celâlzâde Çelebi, Geschichte Sultan Süleymān Ḳānūnīs von 1520 bis 1557, oder, Ṭabaḳāt ülMemālik ve Derecāt ül-Mesālik. Petra Kappert (ed.). Wiesbaden 1981. Evliyâ Çelebi 2007 Evliyâ Çelebi b. Derviş Mehemmed Zılli, Evliyâ Çelebi Seyahatnâmesi. 10. Kitap. Yücel Daĝlı, Seyit Ali Kahraman, and Robert Dankoff (eds.). 10 vols. Istanbul 2007. Fischer, Bencard and Rasmussen 2009 Erik Fischer, Ernst Jonas Bencard and Mikael Bøgh Rasmussen, Melchior Lorck. Copenhagen 2009. Gulyás 2012 Borbála Gulyás, ‘A török elleni harc megjelenítése a Habsburgok udvari ünnepségein a 16. században’, in: Identitás és kultúra a török hódoltság korában. Pál Ács and Júlia Székely (eds.). Budapest 2012, pp. 249–264. Kovács 2010 Tibor S. Kovács, Huszár fegyverek a 15.–17. században. Budapest 2010. Innsbruck 2005 Wir sind Helden: Habsburgische Feste in der Renaissance. Wilfried Seipel (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Eine Ausstellung des Kunsthistorischen Museums Wien; Schloss Ambras, Innsbruck, 10. Juni–31. Oktober 2005. Wien 2005. 59 The Ambassadors of Dialogue [Lambert de Vos] 1991 [Lambert de Vos], Das Kostümbuch des Lambert de Vos: vollständige Faksimile-Ausgabe im Originalformat des Codex Ms. or. 9 aus dem Besitz der Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Bremen. Hans-Albrecht Koch and Armin Hetzer (eds.). Graz 1991. Lowry 2003 Heath W. Lowry, The Nature of the Early Ottoman State. New York 2003. Lubenau 1912 Reinhold Lubenau, Beschreibung der Reisen des Reinhold Lubenau. Wilhelm Sahn (ed.). Frankfurt am Main 1912. Uzunçarşılı 1986 İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, ‘Deli’, in: The Encyclopedia of Islam. New Edition, volume 2. H. A. R. Gibb, J. H. Kramers, E. Lévi-Provençal (eds.). Leiden 1986, pp. 201–202. Winter 2007 Heinz Winter, ‘Medaillen auf Herrscher des ungarischen Mittelalters. Ein Beitrag zur Entwicklung der Porträtmedailkle im Königreich Ungarn’, in: Márton Gyöngyössy and Heinz Winter, Münzen und Medaillen des ungarischen Mittelalters 1000–1526. Milan and Vienna 2007, pp. 36–45, 131–152. 60 Karin Tetteris (Armémuseum, Stockholm) An Image of ‘the Other’ – How a 17th-Century Russian Banner was Interpreted by the Swedish Victors \ Following Sweden’s great victory against Russia at Narva on the 20th of November, 1700, a multitude of printed texts was published. Officially worded accounts of the battle came out of the Swedish field headquarters, sermons for thanksgiving services were authored by clergymen and no less than fifteen songs written in folk-style have been preserved to this day. Most of these texts have a more or less obvious propagandistic purpose and are built up around a set of common themes. It is not surprising that during an ongoing war the opponent is pictured as deceitful and cruel, while the Swedish king and troops are brave and backed up by God. However, during the same period, a quite different text was published by an anonymous author, titled ‘Afmålning och kort beskrifning uppå den provincial fana som är tagen af Ryssarna wid Dorpt tillijka med flere armaturer och transporterade saker uti siu Lodior I förledna October Månad Anno MDCC’.1 This text does not explicitly mention the triumph at Narva, though it was probably published after the news of it had reached Stockholm. Instead, it focuses on a Russian infantry banner, taken as a war trophy, a month before. Analysing the motif on the banner, the author takes the opportunity to deduct certain characterizations of the Russian enemy. This paper will discuss how the Russian adversary is depicted based on the motifs and inscriptions on the banner and how this relates to the Swedish view of the Russians as described in other sources. We shall examine how this specific object was received in Sweden, how it was interpreted and what level of importance it was given by its contemporaries. 1 ‘Depiction and short description of the provincial banner which is taken from the Russians at Dorpat together with many arms and transported goods in seven boats, in the past month of October Anno MDCC’ (translation by K.T.). a version in German was also printed in Nuremburg. It is not dated so it is therefore not known whether it precedes the Swedish version. 61 The Ambassadors of Dialogue War Booty and Trophies War booty can come in many different shapes. Up until the nineteenth century the victors of a battle had the legal right to loot the goods of the defeated.2 Objects as simple as hand tools, buckets and ladders were taken as loot, but more spectacular were of course costly arms, tents, silver and other prestigious and priced objects. While most objects taken as war booty were reused by the victorious army, sold off for cash or kept by individual soldiers as part of their pay, some objects were singled out and delivered directly to the King as trophies – symbolic tokens of the victory. It was first and foremost all kinds of flags, such as infantry colours, cavalry standards, pennants and guidons, but also musical instruments, keys to fortresses and not least cannons which were given this elevated status. The trophies won by the Swedish army during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were often displayed to the public in special trophy processions where the banners would be carried through the streets of Stockholm before being placed in the church for a day or two. Afterwards they were preserved in the Arsenal, a practice that can be confirmed as early as during the Thirty Years’ War but is probably even older. Today, the collection belongs to the Swedish Army Museum. It comprises 4200 flags of different sorts, 200 cannons, 240 musical instruments and 61 keys to fortresses.3 Military flags were not primarily decorative objects but bearers of symbolic meaning as much as being signaling devices. Decorated with the coats of arms of kings, noble families or cities as well as with emblems and religious motifs, many of them offered little challenge for the well-educated strata of society in terms of interpretation. The displayed banners could therefore easily be identified as belonging to a certain kingdom, principality or even regiment. Some flags also bore inscriptions in Latin or vernacular; often quotes from classical literature or the Bible.4 However, the Cyrillic inscriptions and religious motifs of Russian banners needed to be explained to the public, and herein laid a propagandistic opportunity for those seeking to defame the mighty opponent. An Unexpected Trophy Let us first, however, go back to that day in October 1700 when the banner became the prize of the Swedish troops scouting the area between Dorpat (today: Tartu in Estonia) and Lake Peipus (Estonian: Peipsi). After the outbreak of the Great Northern War in February the same year, the Swedish army had firstly marched against Denmark but was now on its way to relieve the town of Narva in Swedish Livonia (in today’s Estonia) which was under attack from the Russian army. Gustaf Adlerfelt (1671–1709), chamberlain of Karl XII, noted in his diary that Colonel Schlippenbach and his regiment of dragoons were ordered 62 2 Lindberg 2006, pp. 41–44. 3 The Armémuseum’s collection is published at www.digitaltmuseum.se. 4 McKeown 2006, pp. 137–138. Karin Tetteris s An Image of ‘the Other’ to detach from the main army and march to Dorpat to observe the movements of the Russians. Reaching Lake Peipus they came upon and seized a number of Russian freight barges on their way from Narva. Amongst other booty the Swedes found the provincial banner of Pskov. Adlerfelt makes a special note of this, explaining that the flag was considered holy by the Russians who saw it as a great peril should it be conquered by enemies.5 The unexpected find was probably taken directly to the King. This was the usual protocol for conquered banners. After being presented to the King it was to be sent to Stockholm, but the transport was slow and rumour of the much coveted trophy reached Sweden before the banner itself. In fact it was the ‘quickly flying rumour […] exciting the curiosity of many’, which the anonymous writer of the pamphlet referred to as justification for the printing of a description of the banner.6 So how was the banner from Pskov actually received once it came to Stockholm? It seems that it arrived at the same time as the news of the great victory at Narva, becoming, in fact, a forerunner of the delivery of the 272 banners won from the Russians there. In the minutes of the Kanslikollegium (government office) from December 7th we can follow the ministers discussing how to make the most of the trophy. The skipper who had brought the flag was to be presented with a gift in accordance with the wishes of the Dowager Queen Hedvig Eleonora (1636–1715), but more importantly the flag had to be shown to the people of Stockholm: ‘It is necessary that this banner is put on show in some public space, the Cathedral is usually thereto suited’.7 They were indeed right. Once the banner had arrived in Stockholm it caused great commotion in the city. The event was reported to the King in a letter dated 4th of January, 1701 by his Marshal of the Court, Nicodemus Tessin the Younger (1654–1728). Tessin had received the banner from the Court Gentleman Casten Klingenstierna (1651–1713) who had probably travelled with it all the way from Livonia.8 As Tessin had brought the flag, rolled up on its stave, from the ship, people rushed towards him filling up the whole square in front of his house.9 To avoid the crowd he was forced go out through the back of the house finding an alternative route to the temporary royal palace at Riddarholmen where he presented the flag to the Dowager Queen, Hedvig Eleonora.10 The Queen’s apartments, wrote Tessin, were also full of people and soon the whole courtyard outside the palace was crowded. We might assume that the banner was then exhibited for a day or two in Stockholm Cathedral, as had been proposed, before it was taken to the Arsenal. These two references to the banner from Pskov made in contemporary sources indicate that the trophy was considered very important by government officials but that it also excited great interest from the public. 5 Adlerfelt 1919, p. 46. 6 Afmåhlning och kort beskrifning… 1700, p. 1. 7 RA, Kanslikollegiums protokoll 1700–1701, a II a vol. 19. 8 Tetteris 2014, p. 21. 9 The palace of Tessin is situated on Slottsbacken 4 opposite the Royal Palace which at the time was under construction after the fire of 1697. 10 During the building of the new palace, the royal family resided in Count Wrangel’s palace on Riddarholmen. 63 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Russian banner made in 1693 for the First Streltsy Regiment of Pskov under the command of General Kokosjkin, Armémuseum, inv no: ST 21:37 (photo: Armémuseum, Stockholm) d Interpreting the Banner Thus, during December 1700 the inhabitants of Stockholm would have had the opportunity not only to read about the banner but also to see it with their own eyes. So, what did it look like? It was, and still is, an impressive object (Fig. 1). The cloth measures 299 x 328 cm and the stave is today 385 cm long, but has probably been shortened.11 It is sewn from different coloured pieces of Chinese silk damask and decorated with silver and gold paint. However, it differs somewhat from the description in the pamphlet. While the printed picture shows a swallow-tailed banner, the real one is rectangular. Also, the borders are described as yellow and red when in fact they are blue and green. This discrepancy cannot be explained by fading or changing of the pigments. In the inventory of the Trophy Collection made in 1800 the borders are correctly described as being green and light blue. Instead, these two disparities might indicate that the author had not himself seen the banner but relied on other sources. The central part of the motif, the imperial double-headed eagle of Russia, could probably be recognized by most Swedes. The surrounding figures would have been more difficult to 11 64 In early descriptions of the banner, the length of the stave is said to be 7.5 or 8 Swedish ells (442–472 cm). See, for example, Nordberg 1740, p. 129. Karin Tetteris s An Image of ‘the Other’ decipher, so let’s examine the motifs through the eyes of our anonymous author and see how they were used as proof of all that was thought of as negative with the Russian adversary. Initially the author informs the reader that while flags and banners in old times were simple means of keeping the units together they now provided an opportunity for the regents or colonels to express their ambitions for the outcome of the war both for the enemies and their own soldiers to see: ‘Så hafwer man dock likwäl uti fölljande tider taget sig före sådana beläten och figurer eller bokstäfwer at sättia uti fahnorna; hwaraf fienden så wäl som undersåtare och krigsknächtar skönia kunde hwad för inbillning den som kriget fördt haft om sin saak och dess utgång’.12 In short, the author suggests that banners have a propagandistic function. Having said that, he determines that the motif on the banner from Pskov reveals that it was designed by a conceited mind. The date of the banner’s production, as well as the name of the colonel that ordered it are inscribed in the four cartouches surrounding the eagle. Our author translates the text and takes the opportunity to explain the Old Russian calendar but also points out that the Russian emperors Ivan V (r. 1682–1696) and Peter I (r. 1682–1725) call themselves dictators which is a heathen title. It is only God himself, the author stresses, that can give power to kings and therefore the Russian emperors will surely be punished. Turning to religious figures, the author immerses in theological explanations. First of all, the Old Testament Trinity depicting the three angels is proof that the Orthodox Church is not in agreement with western churches in the filioque controversy and as such is not of true Christian belief.13 Furthermore, the figure depicted below the Trinity is a saint, which in the eyes of the Protestant author is proof of idolatry. However, in the pamphlet the figure is believed to be Saint Nicolas even though the name Sergius of Radonezh is written in Cyrillic letters beside him. The inability to identify the saint may indicate that the author himself wasn’t able to read Russian but relied on other sources for the translation. Interestingly enough, the Court Gentleman Casten Klingenstierna, who had brought the flag from Livonia was well known for his language skills. He had taken part in the embassy to Russia and Persia in 1697 and spoke twelve languages including Russian. It is not unlikely that he was the first to translate the inscriptions upon seeing the banner after its capture. The religious motifs of the banner give the author an opportunity to criticize the Russian Orthodox Church. a long held view in Sweden was that Russians were not true Christians at all. In the sixteenth century, Russians were often mentioned by Swedish authors together with Turks and Tatars as heathens.14 Even though the view softened somewhat during the course of the seventeenth century and Russians were accepted as Christians, although of the wrong faith, the word ‘ungodly’ was frequently used by Swedish authors. 12 Afmåhlning och kort beskrifning… 1700, p. 1. 13 The word filioque means ‘and (from) the son’ and is used in later versions of the Nicene creed to explain that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both the Father and the Son. This doctrine of the Holy Trinity has never been accepted by the Orthodox churches. 14 Tarkiainen 1974, p. 27. 65 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Turning to the central motif, the author of the pamphlet points to the double-headed eagle and the three crowns as further evidence of the hubris of the Russian Tsar. Referring to the fable of the bird in borrowed feathers by Aesop, he points out that God will punish those with unrighteous claims and deceitful plans. Next, he turns to the stars and suns surrounding the eagle. Here, he draws on science and points out that since there is only one sun and seven planets the representation of six suns and eight stars (interpreted by the author as planets) shows ignorance and delusion. He proposes that Russia shall perish just as mock suns do, being nothing but optical illusions. The crescent on which the eagle stands signifies Turkey, states the author, and the interpretation of that image is abundantly clear to him: Russia’s wish to vanquish its Ottoman opponent. However, this image brings our author to comment on recent world events. The Austro-Ottoman War ended with the treaty of Karlowitz in 1699, concluded between the Holy League and the Ottoman Empire. This was done to make it possible for the Russian army to engage in an attack on Sweden together with its allies: Denmark and Saxony. The author once again points out that the treachery of the Tsar will certainly lead to God’s revenge and punishment. Comparing Texts Does then the ‘Depiction and short description...’ conform to the rhetoric also used in other propaganda prints from the period? Is the picture of the Russians constructed in the same way? Analysing the songs written to celebrate the victory at Narva, the historian Anna Maria Forssberg defines a number of themes that can be detected in all of the songs.15 Most important is the role of the Swedish king and of God for the outcome of the battle. Another theme is the treachery of the Russian Tsar having promised the Swedish ambassador peace shortly before attacking Narva. Portraying the enemy as cruel and cowardly while portraying the Swedes as brave is another reoccurring theme. After making a comparison between our text with one of the official accounts of the battle16 and one of the celebratory songs,17 it is clear that the author of our text emphasizes the treachery and barbarism of the Tsar and the punishment God will mete out on him as a result. On the other hand, very little is mentioned about the King and the valour of the Swedish troops, something that is more stressed in other texts. In fact, we can conclude that while conforming to a prevalent view of the government of the Russian Tsar and of the Orthodox religion, our text reveals a different agenda than the ordinary war propaganda which focuses more on the actual battles and the conduct of the different sides during the fighting. Of course, a small skirmish under the command of Colonel Schlippenbach could not compare with the liberation of the town of Narva under the command of the King himself, but nonetheless it is obvious that the author has little interest in the military aspects of trophies. 66 15 Forssberg 2000, pp. 105–144. 16 Kårt doch sanfärdig berättelse … 1700. 17 Sweriges fägneljud öfwer Den oförlijknelige SEGER Wijd NARVA, Den 20. Novembris Anno 1700 [Sweden’s sounds of joy over the incomparable victory at Narva…]. Karin Tetteris s An Image of ‘the Other’ Conclusion Concluding the interpretation made by our author, it can be stated that the Russian Tsar is portrayed as conceited and tyrannical. Religious and scientific delusions are not specifically attributed to the Tsar but rather to the Russians in general. According to the Finnish historian Kari Tarkiainen, these opinions of the Russians had been more or less constant from medieval times. How Swedish officials described the Orthodox Church also depended on the political situation and could at times be more favourable.18 Since wars in early modern times were always spoken of in religious terms it is not unimportant that the author of the pamphlet has chosen to highlight tyranny, conceit and ungodliness. Anna Maria Forssberg has pointed out that the Old Testament was frequently used in Swedish war propaganda during the seventeenth century.19 Sweden was identified as Israel, and as God had punished the erring Israelites by sending enemies upon them, so were the Swedish subjects punished for their sins by the war. However, the enemy was always portrayed as conceited, or proud, which could turn God’s anger against him instead.20 Pride was one of the seven deadly sins and often considered the gravest. To accuse the enemy of being proud was just as bad as calling him brutal or evil. Being a tyrant also had religious implications. a true Christian sovereign might have absolute power over his or her subjects but was always accountable to God. Depicting the Russian Tsar as a tyrant was another way of calling him ungodly or even heathen. To strengthen the message even more, the motifs of the Old Testament Trinity and Saint Sergius of Radonezh are understood as proof of the delusion of Russian Orthodox beliefs. The author reveals not only religious knowledge but also classical learning by referring to Alexander the Great and Aesop’s fables.21 We might therefore suspect that he belonged to the Swedish clergy. This assumption can also be supported by the fact that the King is hardly mentioned in the text, which would probably be the case if the text had been written by someone close to the government. Ambassador of Dialogue? In the case presented above, a Russian banner, taken as war booty during the Northern War, seems to have been used as an instrument of defamation of its former owners. Not so much facilitating cultural understanding, but on the contrary reinforcing xenophobia. Are we therefore to conclude that a magnificent object of art, such as the banner from Pskov, had failed as an ambassador for its country of origin? Or is ‘any press good press’ as today’s PR people would have it? 18 Tarkiainen 1974, p. 68. 19 Forssberg 2005, pp. 78–80. 20 Ibidem, pp. 231–232. 21 Afmåhlning och kort beskrifning… 1700, pp. 5–6. 67 The Ambassadors of Dialogue The discussed pamphlet is of course only one example of how the banner was interpreted and received by its contemporaries. The text seems to be addressing a learned group of people and might never have reached a wider audience. But we have also seen that the banner could have other meanings for different individuals or groups in the society. For the ministers in Kanslikollegium the banner meant important proof of military success and they were therefore eager to exhibit it to the public. The Marshal of the Court, Nicodemus Tessin, thought of the banner in terms of ceremony. He commented on the great public interest and planned for the exhibition of this and other trophies in the Arsenal. It is of course impossible to say how the banner was actually perceived by ordinary people in Stockholm. What we know is that the inhabitants of Stockholm were so curious of the banner that they left what they were doing only to run after it and catch a glimpse of it on the day it arrived. d 68 Karin Tetteris s An Image of ‘the Other’ Bibliography Archives: Riksarkivet, Stockholm, Kanslikollegiums protokoll 1700–1701, a II a vol. 19. Publications: Adlerfelt 1919 Gustaf Adlerfelt, Karl XII:s krigsföretag 1700–1706. Stockholm 1919. Afmåhlning och kort beskrifning… 1700 Afmåhlning och kort beskrifning uppå den provincial fahna, som är tagen af ryszarna wid Dorpt, tillijka med flere armaturer och transporterade saker, uti siu lodior, i förledne october månad anno MDCC. [Stockholm, kongl. tryckeriet.]. Stockholm 1700. Dagbladet 1783 Dagbladet: Wälsignade Tryck-Friheten. Stockholm 1783. Forssberg 2000 Anna Maria Forssberg, ’Gläd tigh nu o Swea-rike!: segervisorna från slaget vid Narva 1700 – propaganda eller spontana kungahyllningar?’, in: Karolinska förbundets årsbok (1998). Lund 2000, pp. 105–144. Forssberg 2005 Anna Maria Forssberg, Att hålla folket på gott humör. Informationsspridning, krigspropaganda och mobilisering i Sverige 1655–1680. Stockholm 2005 (Acta Universitatis Stockholmiensis. Stockholm Studies in History, 80). Kårt doch sanfärdig berättelse… 1700 Kårt doch sanfärdig berättelse om den glorieuse och i manna minne oförlijklige seger, hwarmed den aldrahögste Gud den 20. november hafwer behagat wälsigna kongl: may:tz af Swerige rätttmätige wapn emot desz trolöse fiende czaren af Muscow. Narva den 28. novemb: 1700. [Stockholm kongl. tryckeriet.]. Stockholm 1700. Lindberg 2006 Bo H. Lindberg, ‘Spoils and Trophies’, in: In Hoc Signo Vinces – a Presentation of The Swedish State Trophy Collection, Fred Sandstedt (ed.). Halmstad 2006, pp. 37–49. McKeown 2006 Simon McKeown, ‘Inscriptions on Military Standards of the Seventeenth Century’, in: In Hoc Signo Vinces – a Presentation of The Swedish State Trophy Collection, Fred Sandstedt (ed.). Halmstad 2006, pp. 137–147. Nordberg 1740 Jöran Nordberg, Konung Carl XII:tes historia. Stockholm 1740. 69 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Tarkiainen 1974 Kari Tarkiainen, ’Vår Gamble Arffiende Ryssen’ – Synen på Ryssland i Sverige 1595–1621 och andra studier kring den svenska Rysslandsbilden från tidigare stormaktstid. Uppsala 1974. Tetteris 2014 Karin Tetteris, The Embodiment of Victory – Heritagisation of War Trophies in Early Modern Sweden. Master’s degree thesis at Stockholm University, Department of History of Art 2014. 70 Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas, B.A. (U.S. Marine Corps and U.S. Army Museums) The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword \ The ‘Mameluke’ sword carried today by officers of the United States Marine Corps, when in full dress, is one of only two Ottoman-influenced edged weapons that are known to have seen service in North America over the past 200-plus years. The other one is the Pattern 1831 General Officers’ ‘Scimitar’ that is still authorized for wear by the staff of the Chief of the Canadian Defence Forces.1 While a militia company officer, either American or Canadian, could have possibly carried one of these swords in the nineteenth century, it would have been a remarkable occurrence, and to date, no instances of this have been found.2 While the Canadian sword is the same as the regulation British sword (prescribed for general officers and some diplomats) and its antecedents are unquestioned, the Marines’ sword has a contentious history as to its origins (Fig. 1). Were you to ask any U.S. Marine why this white-handled, brass-mounted, curved sword is carried by Marine officers, they would tell you that it was adopted in honour of the heroic 1805 assault on Derna (Arab.: Dernah, today’s Libya), a city in Tripoli, by a handful of Marines and a ragtag army of mercenaries, during the campaign against the North African ‘Barbary Pirates’ (Fig. 2). According to nearly every account of this sword’s history, the grateful brother of the Pasha of Tripoli presented a ‘jeweled scimitar’ to one of the leaders of this expedition, Lieutenant Presley Neville O’Bannon (1776–1850), in appreciation for the Marine’s help in his attempt to regain his throne (Fig. 3). Then, some twenty years later, supposedly in a tribute to O’Bannon’s feat, Colonel Archibald Henderson (1783–1859), then-Commandant of the Marine Corps, specified this sword for all Marine officers in 1825. This is what has been taught to nearly every Marine since at least 1912, and although the story is still ‘gospel’ to most Marines, the explanation for this very distinctive sword’s adoption is still in doubt. 1 Canadian Forces Dress Instructions 2011, paragraph 24, 3-7-9. 2 Confirmed by Rene Chartrand and John Thilmann, both recognized edged weapons historians, at the Company of Military Historians Annual Meeting, 28 May 2015. 71 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Except for a brief sixteen-year hiatus in the mid-19th Century, U.S. Marine Corps officers have carried the ‘Mameluke’ sword since 1826. Painting by Lieutenant Colonel Charles H. Cureton, USMCR ca. 1900 (courtesy of the Author) d Apparently, then-Captain James Forney (1844–1921) was the first Marine to make a connection between the reason for the adoption of the ‘Mameluke’ sword and the action in Tripoli, when he wrote a series of historical articles on Marine Corps traditions in the 1870s and 1880s.3 Forney’s fellow officer, Captain Richard S. Collum, the author of the first official history of the Marine Corps, left this connection up to the reader in one of his articles. Furthermore, Collum did not take this understandable, but unsupported, leap of faith between Tripoli and the ‘Mameluke’ sword in his 1890 history.4 However, shortly after its formation in 1911, the Marine Corps Publicity Bureau produced a series of historical pamphlets that included Forney’s claim about the sword and its history. This organization was established to boost recruitment, increase awareness among the American public, and instill a further measure of esprit de corps among Marines. The Publicity Bureau made several claims of dubious historical associations to explain what, at that time, were considered to be unique aspects of the Marine Corps’ uniform.5 72 3 Marshall 2010, p. 114. 4 Collum 1890, p. 50. 5 Among others, the Publicity Bureau printed fanciful stories about the origins of the knot on the crown of the officers’ caps, and the ‘blood stripes’ on the trousers worn by Marine non-commissioned officers. Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas s The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword Fig. 2. Legend holds that the assault on Derna, Tripoli (now Libya), in 1805 was the inspiration for the Marine Corps’ adoption of the ‘Mameluke’ sword. Painting by Colonel Charles H. Waterhouse, USMCR (Courtesy of the National Museum of the Marine Corps) d This explanation stood the test of time and was quoted in nearly all of the Marine Corps histories, as well as books about edged weapons, that were produced from World War I through World War II, and then beyond the Vietnam War.6 It was not until a very questionable sword (supposedly the ‘jeweled scimitar’ that had been presented to Lieutenant O’Bannon) suddenly appeared in the early 1980s, that the official historical arm of the Marine Corps undertook serious research either to prove or disprove the Publicity Bureau’s tale of the sword’s origins and adoption. Richard A. Long, a seasoned curator on the Marine Corps Museum’s staff, delved into the available source documents in order to authenticate this sword, and in doing so he found an interesting story. According to the published accounts left by William Eaton (1764–1811) (the organizer of the expedition to Derna and the local U.S. Naval Agent), 6 See: Metcalf 1939; Heinl 1962; Moskin 1977; Peterson 1965; Rankin 1972. 73 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. Lieutenant Presley N. O’Bannon, along with several other officers, was presented with a ‘Mameluke’ sword by the Viceroy of Egypt prior to the march on Derna. Painting by Colonel Donald Dickson, USMCR , ca 1935 (Courtesy of the National Museum of the Marine Corps) d the Viceroy of Egypt presented him with an Egyptian ‘Mameluke’ cavalry sabre, and also gave one to each of the seven officers in the ships present in port from the American Mediterranean Squadron, prior to the march on Derna. The Mamelukes were the ‘slave warriors’ of the Ottoman Empire, and were greatly feared, and respected, for their martial qualities. Their sword was a derivative of the curved Persian shamshir, with a distinctive pistol-grip handle of horn, bone, or ivory, and a simple diamond-shaped cross guard of iron, brass, or steel, with bullet-pointed quillons. Its scabbard was slung from a silken cord. O’Bannon, along with the other officers, was listed as having received one of these swords or sabres, presumably from existing stocks readily available at a nearby local arsenal. As a result of Long’s research, two of these ‘presentation’ swords (both nearly identical to each other) were found at U.S. Navy museums in Boston, Massachusetts, and in Annapolis, Maryland – the former having been presented to U.S. naval hero Isaac Hull (1773–1843), and the latter to Midshipman Mann, both of whom served with O’Bannon during the action at Derna. Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, the then-Director of the Marine Corps’ History and Museums Division, set the story straight in 1984, when he published an article detailing Long’s findings in Fortitudine, the Marine Corps’ former official quarterly historical journal.7 7 74 Simmons 1984. Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas s The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword Although he doubted it, Simmons could not say for sure whether O’Bannon’s actions had anything to do with Henderson’s decision to adopt this sword in 1825. However, he could categorically state that O’Bannon did not receive a ‘jeweled scimitar’ from Hamet, the grateful brother of the Pasha of Tripoli, after the capture of Derna. Instead, the Viceroy of Egypt had presented a standard ‘Mameluke’ sabre to O’Bannon, at least six weeks before the fight. Colonel F. Brooke Nihart, then-Deputy Director for Marine Corps Museums, reiterated this information in an article that he penned in Fortitudine, some three years later.8 Apparently, however, few of the historians who have written about the Barbary Wars or the Marine Corps since then (or who have ‘blogged’ on the internet) read either Simmons’ or Nihart’s articles. Many of them still continue to echo the same story of Hamet presenting a ‘jewelled sword’ to O’Bannon after the battle.9 Shortly after this revelation was published in Fortitudine, then-Captain Charles H. Cureton, a Marine Corps reserve officer, was assigned to search the Marine Corps’ Quartermaster records in the U.S. National Archives for arcane details about the Marine Corps uniform from 1821–1859. During his research, he also made some startling discoveries about Marine Corps swords. In addition to determining the correct pattern and maker of Marine Corps non-commissioned officers’ and musicians’ swords of the period (thus refuting earlier beliefs), Dr. Cureton (now a retired Marine lieutenant colonel, author and the director of the U.S. Army’s Museum System) also found a file containing all of the correspondence relating to the Marine Corps’ adoption and acquisition of the ‘Mameluke’ sword from the mid-1820s to the late-1850s. Cureton, too, could not find any documentation in these papers supporting the thesis that Henderson had decided on this particular type of sword, as a tribute to the heroic actions of his fellow Virginian, Presley O’Bannon, in Tripoli.10 However, he did determine that Henderson was the only Marine officer still on active duty in 1825 that had been present at the Washington Marine Barracks when O’Bannon returned from the Mediterranean in 1806, and presumably had seen O’Bannon’s presentation sword.11 In 1992, David M. Sullivan, a military historian and author, discovered a rare ‘first issue’ M1826 USMC ‘Mameluke’ sword, and convinced its owners to donate the sword to the Marine Corps Museum (Fig. 4). Most importantly, it was marked with the maker’s 8 Nihart 1987. 9 Nilhart 2005 erroneously repeats the ‘Hamet legend’ on p. 49, but then corrects himself in the sidebar on p. 54. Whelan 2003 also repeats this ‘Hamet legend’ on p. 284, although he notes on pp. 281–282 that Eaton had willed his ‘Damascus sabre’ to a naval officer prior to the battle, thus validating Eaton’s account of the swords being presented to the eight recipients prior to the march on Derna. Whipple 1991, p. 274, repeats the Hamet legend, but Zacks 2005 p. 379, gets most of the story right. 10 Cureton 2006, p. 126. Based on Cureton’s early research, Hoffman 2002, p. 37, accurately described the sword’s adoption, but he still included the ‘Hamet legend’. 11 Cureton and Sullivan 2009, p. 170. 75 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. The ‘Mameluke’ sword was prescribed for Marine officers in 1826, and the first swords were procured from a London maker. Portrait of John Marshall Gamble ca 1840 (Courtesy of the National Museum of the Marine Corps) d name and London address, and this concurred with Cureton’s findings12 (Henderson’s own ‘Mameluke’ sword – in the possession of the Marine Corps Museum since the 1950s – has an unmarked blade).13 a few years later, the sword that reputedly had been presented to O’Bannon was discovered to be on exhibit in the Kentucky State Museum. While it is stylistically similar to both the Hull and Mann swords, it is in poor condition, and its workmanship apparently is not of the same quality as the other two swords. The old exhibition label simply states that O’Bannon’s family donated the sword to the museum, but regretfully, 76 12 Sullivan was conducting research for his series of books about the Marine Corps during the American Civil War. The ‘Harris’ sword and its sword belt were welcome additions to the museum – one of only two pre1875 ‘Mameluke’ swords in the collection at that time, see: Smith-Christmas 1993, p. 26. Unfortunately, all but one of the M1826 officers’ swords in the museum’s collection (Henderson’s) had been stolen in 1968 from the museum’s storage/research facility, and they were never recovered. 13 National Museum of the Marine Corps, accession/catalogue file on artefact 1975.660.1. Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas s The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword the records on its provenance and donation have been lost.14 Since O’Bannon apparently took his naval dirk with him when he moved to Kentucky, shortly after his resignation from the Marine Corps in 1807,15 it would have been very odd were O’Bannon to have left his ‘Mameluke’ sword behind. Sadly, however, without proper documentation, this sword cannot positively be identified as O’Bannon’s. Napoleon’s foray into Egypt in 1798 was responsible for the great popularity of ‘Mameluke’-style swords among French officers in the pre-1816 period. Likewise, an interest in this type of sword quickly spread to Great Britain and, by the 1820s, more than a few British cavalry units had adopted the ‘Mameluke’ sword for ‘levee’ dress occasions, and at least one yeomanry regiment carried it for active service.16 As mentioned before, the British Army adopted it for its general officers in 1831. Its popularity in Europe continued well into the 1840s, and it is more likely that this was the primary reason, rather than the O’Bannon/ Tripoli connection, that led Henderson to adopt it for the Marine Corps. Not only was the ‘Mameluke’ sword exotic, distinctive, and attractive; it could readily be purchased (albeit at a high price) from well-established sword makers in London. Interestingly, the Marine Corps’ decision to adopt this sword for its officers in 1825 predated the U.S. Army’s efforts to standardize its swords by several years.17 After its debut in 1826, Marine officers carried this sword during the 1830s in campaigns against pirates in both the East and West Indies, and against the Seminole Indians in Florida. It saw service in the Mexican-American War of the mid-1840s, and most famously, at the capture of the abolitionist John Brown at Harpers Ferry in 1859. In that same year (and upon Henderson’s death) the Marine Corps hurriedly replaced it with a sturdier sword, the U.S. Army’s Model 1850 Foot Officers’ Sword (Fig. 5).18 Nearly every Marine officer carried this French-inspired Army sword during the American Civil War, while Marine Corps non-commissioned officers used a simplified version of this same Army sword that, aside from minor changes made in 1934, they still carry today.19 In 1875, the Marine Corps decided to abandon the Army sword, and re-adopt the ‘Mameluke’ sword for its officers, but now with a simple ‘U. S. Marines’ etched in a ribbon on the blade. This sword remained unchanged until 1914, when floral motifs and extensive etchings were added to the blade, and the white grips were enlarged. Marine officers stopped carrying their swords into combat in the first decade of the twentieth century, but 14 Telephone conversation between the author and staff, Kentucky State Museum, 1998. 15 The State of Virginia also presented a silver-mounted sword to O’Bannon in 1812, after he had moved to Kentucky. National Museum of the Marine Corps, accession/catalogue file on artefact 1983.1919.1 and 1975.2029.1. 16 Smith-Christmas 1997. 17 Thillmann 2015. 18 U.S. Marine Corps 1859. Indeed, Lieutenant Israel Greene, while commanding the Marine detachment at Harpers Ferry, bent the blade of his light ‘Mameluke’ sword double while subduing Brown, see: Nalty 1983, p. 7. 19 Heinl 1962, p. 108. 77 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 5. Just prior to the outbreak of the American Civil War, the Marine Corps adopted the U.S. Army’s Model 1850 Foot Officer’s sword, which, in a modified form, is still being carried today by Marine Corps non-commissioned officers. From the Marine Corps Dress Regulations, 1859 (Courtesy of the National Museum of the Marine Corps) d still carried them in troop formations, while wearing service dress, until the early years of World War II. During World War II, Marine officers were not required to purchase swords, but in the immediate post-war years, the sword once again became a required sidearm.20 Regardless of whether the story of the sword’s adoption is fact, assumption, or legend (sometimes called, ‘The Lore of The Corps’), the U.S. Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ sword is still one of the most distinctive edged weapons being carried today by any military formation around the world, and it is the only one ever carried in the United States that has its origins in the Ottoman Empire. d 20 78 This entire paragraph is from Simmons 1984. Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas s The United States Marine Corps’ ‘Mameluke’ Sword Bibliography Canadian Forces Dress Instructions 2011 Canadian Forces Dress Instructions. Chief of the Defense Staff. Canadian Defense Forces. Ottawa 2011. Collum 1890 Richard S. Collum, The History of the U.S. Marine Corps. Philadelphia 1890. Cureton 2006 Charles H. Cureton, ‘Early Marine Corps Swords’, in: Journal of the American Society of Arms Collectors, 93, 2006, pp. 110–133. Cureton and Sullivan 2009 Charles H. Cureton and David M. Sullivan, The Civil War Uniforms of the United States Marine Corps: The Regulations of 1859. San Jose 2009. Heinl 1962 Robert D. Heinl, Soldiers of the Sea: The United States Marine Corps, 1775–1962. Annapolis 1962. Hoffman 2002 Jon T. Hoffman, USMC: a Complete History. Quantico 2002. Marshall 2010 Heather Pace Marshall, It Means Something These Days to be a Marine: Image, Identity, and Mission in the Marine Corps, 1861‐1918. PhD Dissertation. Duke University, Department of History 2010. Metcalf 1939 Clyde H. Metcalf, a History of the United States Marine Corps. New York 1939. Moskin 1977 J. Robert Moskin, The U.S. Marine Corps Story. New York 1977. Nalty 1983 Bernard C. Nalty, United States Marines at Harpers Ferry and in the Civil War. Washington 1983. Nilhart 1987 F. Brooke Nihart, ‘Three Cities to See O’Bannon’s Silver-Mounted Sword’, in: Fortitudine: Newsletter of the Marine Corps Historical Program, XVI, Summer 1987, Number 1, p. 24. Nilhart 2005 F. Brooke Nihart, Semper Fi: The Definitive Illustrated History of the U.S. Marines. New York 2005. Peterson 1965 Harold L. Peterson, The American Sword 1775 to 1945. Philadelphia 1965. Rankin 1972 Robert H. Rankin, Small Arms of the Sea Services: a History of the Firearms and Edged Weapons of the U. S. Navy, Marine Corps and Coast Guard from the Revolution to the Present. New Milford 1972. Simmons 1984 Edwin H. Simmons, ‘O’Bannon’s Sword?’, in: Fortitudine: Newsletter of the Marine Corps Historical Program, XIV, Number 1, Summer 1984, pp. 3–9. 79 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Smith-Christmas 1984 Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas, ‘Lebanon Flag and O’Bannon Dirk’, in: Fortitudine: Newsletter of the Marine Corps Historical Program, XI, Winter 1984, Number 3, p. 7. Smith-Christmas 1993 Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas, ‘M1826 Mameluke Sword May Be Col Comdt John Harris’, in: Fortitudine: Marine Corps Historical Bulletin, XXII, Number 1, Summer 1993, pp. 25–26. Smith-Christmas 1997 Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas, ‘Gone Mad for Mamelukes in England and Scotland’, in: Fortitudine: Marine Corps Historical Bulletin, XXVIII, Number 2, Fall 1997, pp. 12–14. U.S. Marine Corps 1859 U.S. Marine Corps, Regulations of the Uniforms and Dress of the Marine Corps of the United States, 1859. Philadelphia 1859. Thillman 2015 John H. Thillman, The Golden Age of American Swords, 1832–1865. (Presented at the Annual Meeting of the Company of Military Historians, Richmond VA, May 2015). Wheelan 2003 Joseph Wheelan, Jefferson’s War: America’s First War on Terror, 1801–1805. New York 2003. Whipple 1991 A. B. C. Whipple, To The Shores of Tripoli: The Birth of the U.S. Navy and Marines. New York 1991. Zacks 2005 Richard Zacks, The Pirate Coast: Thomas Jefferson, the First Marines, and the Secret Mission of 1805. New York 2005. 80 Henry Yallop (Royal Armouries, Leeds) Swords of Empire: The 19th Century Frenchification of European Edged Weapons \ The nineteenth century saw the standardisation of patterns of military edged weapons become commonplace across Europe. However, far from each nation developing their own edged weapons independently, a degree of homogenisation occurred. As the standardised weapons of professional militaries are invariably known by their year of official approval, the flow of patterns of development and emulation can be traced through objects and between nations. When this is attempted, the pattern that emerges during the first two thirds of the nineteenth century is that France was the clear leader in terms of setting trends that others followed. When the political climate at the beginning of the nineteenth century is considered, perhaps this should not be surprising. During the rise and fall of the French First Empire many nations came under French military influence. All these countries, whether they were officially absorbed into the French Empire and Army or existed as sympathetic satellites, provided soldiers for the Imperial war effort, either directly into the French military or in the form of allied units in the Grande Armée. Smaller countries that did not manufacture their own arms, such as Switzerland, were supplied with weapons made in France to French military patterns, which were totally indistinguishable from those issued to French troops.1 Larger allied nations with established sword cutlers still often adopted French pattern weapons, even if they produced the weapons locally and reclassified them along their own national lines for their equivalent regiments. Hence, in the Kingdom of Holland the French Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry sword2 became the Dutch M.1807 No. 2 sword for Cuirassiers; the French Grenadiers à Cheval sword became the M.1807 No. 1 sword for the Dutch Guard Cuirassiers; the Chasseurs à Cheval sword 1 Reeder 1993, p. 18. 2 All weapon names have been translated and the term ‘sword’ is used throughout this article for clarity. 81 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. French Year XIII Line Cavalry sword. Inv. no. IX.7047. © Royal Armouries d became the M.1807 No. 3 for the Kingdom’s Guard Hussars; and the French Year XI Light Cavalry sword became the M.1807 No. 4 sword for Dutch light cavalry and horse artillery.3 Similarly to Holland, the various Italian states adopted French patterns of edged weapons for their military service alongside France. These weapons were made in their own production centres, either at state-controlled factories like the Imperial Factory in Turin and the National Factory in Brescia, or by private contractors such as Barisoni of Milan and Landi of Brescia.4 Naturally, when French influence was removed in 1814, existing stocks of French patterns were pragmatically adopted and reclassified as national patterns, with the Year XI Light Cavalry sword becoming the Model 1814 Light Cavalry sword, and the Year XIII Infantry sword becoming the Model 1814 Infantry sword.5 Therefore, to assume that these nations freely adopted patterns of French swords could be unwise. Whether formally incorporated into French territory or one of her supporting satellites, these areas provided men for the French war machine, and so the adoption of patterns approved by the French Artillery Commission6 would have been of considerable mutual benefit, if not officially encouraged or enforced. Another way in which the French patterns of swords can be seen to have been adopted, not so much out of free choice but due to expedience, was by her enemies. After 1815, war-weary nations such as Prussia and Bavaria were reluctant to waste stocks taken from the defeated French or left in stores during occupation. Hence they adopted, redesignated and then reissued these captured weapons. As such, the French Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry sword became both Bavaria’s Model 1815 Cuirassier sword,7 and Prussia’s Model 1817 Cuirassier sword.8 Likewise, the French Year XI Light Cavalry sword became the Prussian Model 1817 Cavalry sword when these captured weapons were formally approved for use,9 82 3 Puype 1962, p. 109. 4 Tonelli 2001, p. 128f. 5 Piancastelli 2007, pp. 59–67. 6 Aries & Pétard 1980, p. 18. 7 Maier 1987, p. 438f. 8 Maier 1976–1981, Teil 2, pp. 255–259. 9 Ibidem, pp. 245–247. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Fig 2. French Year XI Light Cavalry sword. Inv. no. IX.1133. © Royal Armouries d Fig. 3. Spanish Model 1815 Line Cavalry sword. Inv. no. IX. 445. © Royal Armouries d which was followed by the Year XIII Infantry sword becoming the Prussian Model 1818 Infantry sword.10 Nevertheless, what may have begun as pure expedience continued out of choice as both of the Prussian-adopted French cavalry swords were produced well into the 1850s by Solingen manufactures, often with French-style blade markings along the spine. However, it is the adoption of swords in the period after the collapse of the First Empire that is of greater significance to the Frenchifying trend, and the military swords of Spain provide an interesting example of this. All through the period of French influence, Spanish patterns of swords remained in use, such as the distinctive Model 1802 Artillery sword and Model 1803 Line Cavalry sword.11 Alongside these native patterns, British swords were also used extensively by Spanish troops during the Napoleonic period, with numerous Pattern 1796 Light and Heavy Cavalry swords recorded in Spanish stores as late as the 1860s.12 And yet, rather than revert to Spanish models or adopt the plentiful swords of their British allies that many Spanish cavalrymen would have been well accustomed to, the Spanish military adopted a new, entirely French, design. The Spanish Model 1815 Line Cavalry sword was a copy of the French Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry sword, with the spines of blades even marked in the French manner. Despite changes in blade form, this distinctly French Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry sword hilt remained a feature of all subsequent Spanish heavy cavalry swords until 1860. 10 Ibidem, p. 280f. 11 Calvó 1976, p. 11. 12 Ibidem, p. 19. 83 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. US Model 1850 Foot Officer’s sword. Inv. no. IX.7706. © Royal Armouries d It may seem possible to justify this change to French patterns immediately after the Napoleonic Wars by the fact that the Toledo factory was in French hands during the wars, producing French patterns of swords. However, sword production was also moved away from French control during the wars, to Seville and Cadiz, where Spanish patterns continued to be produced for use against the occupying French.13 The continued production of Spanish swords, the large numbers of British patterns available, and the adoption of swords modelled on French patterns rather than turning out carbon copies of the French weapons Toledo would have been producing during the seven years of occupation all suggest a deliberate adoption of French style swords; rather than doing so due to circumstance. The notion that foreign militaries were deliberately copying specifically French patterns of swords becomes clearer when slightly later swords are considered. Nations that had no access to these swords, neither being allied or at war with France at the relevant time, adopted French swords almost as soon as they were released. The French Model 1821 Infantry Officer’s sword was immediately copied in Spain as the Model 1821 Infantry Officer’s sword,14 in Norway as the Type 1824 Officer’s sword15 and in Russia as the Pattern 1826.16 In addition, when the French military modified this pattern in 1845 these nations again followed suit with the Norwegian Model 185217 and the Russian Pattern 1855,18 with the Spanish producing a new clone for all foot officers.19 The French Model 1845 was also adopted by the US as their Model 1850 Foot Officer’s sword20, and by the Dutch as the Model 1852 Infantry Officer’s sword.21 84 13 Pérez, The Edged Weapons… 14 Calvó 2005. 15 Karlsen, Mathiesen & Ruud 1982, p. 58. 16 Kulinsky 2001, p. 112. 17 Karlsen, Mathiesen & Ruud 1982, p. 59. 18 Kulinsky 2001, p. 127. 19 Calvó 2005. 20 Peterson 1996, p. 81. 21 Puype 1962, p. 111. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Fig. 5. British ‘yataghan’ Pattern 1853 Artillery bayonet and scabbard. Inv. no. X.773 © Royal Armouries d Indeed, such is the prevalence of French designs in European militaries during the second and third quarter of the nineteenth century that there is not space to list them all. But it begs the question of why? Was France consistently producing the best edged weapons that warranted copying? With centrally controlled factories ensuring quality control, French edged weapons were produced to consistently high standards of manufacture. However, other countries could not benefit from France’s controlled production methods at Klingenthal, Versailles and Châtellerault. So, were these French edged weapon designs, even when produced in other nation’s state or private manufactories, inherently superior to weapons designed elsewhere? Certainly for some of the edged weapons devised in France and copied by others it is relatively straightforward to see the benefits they offered over their competitors. The French Year IX Boarding sword offered considerably more protection to a user’s hand than previous patterns produced by any other European nation. It seems logical then that this superior weapon, and its successors the Year X, Model 1811 and Model 1833, were copied by the Dutch, Belgians, Italians, Germans, Russians, Austrians and the United States, where in some cases it remained in service until functional naval edged weapons were no longer needed.22 Another highly influential edged weapon of French design was the so-called ‘yataghan’ bayonet, first seen on the French Model 1840 Bayonet. This pattern of bayonet was the first type of sword bayonet widely adopted over previous socket forms. With its t-shaped back and ‘yataghan’ blade profile it was able to serve adequately both as a bayonet and as a hand weapon or fascine knife. As such, almost every nation produced at least one model, and in many cases several successive versions, of bayonet based on this French design; many of which remained current issue until the early twentieth century.23 Furthermore, it was the success of this French design that led to the world-wide rise of the sword bayonet in the second half of the nineteenth century, accelerating the widespread disappearance of the general infantryman’s hanger.24 22 Pétard 2006, p. 76. 23 ’The Old Smithy’ website, The Yataghan. 24 Pétard 1999–2005, vol. III, p. 224. 85 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 6. Baden Model 1831 Cavalry sword. Inv. no. IX.486. © Royal Armouries d The Model 1822 Light Cavalry sword was another extremely successful French design. The strong, single-cast brass three-bar guard provided good protection to the hand without excessive weight, and its reinforced edge was both sufficiently thick to protect from cuts and dished to catch points. The ‘Montmorency’ blade gave the weapon rigidity for thrusting, yet the blade’s distal taper and slight curve meant it would also cut effectively. It is not surprising therefore, that this simple, sturdy, well-balanced sword was so widely copied. It became the Belgian Model 1822 Cavalry sword,25 the Swiss 1842/52 Cavalry sword,26 the US Model 1840 Heavy Cavalry sword,27 the Baden Model 1831 Cavalry sword28 and the Württemberg Model 1849 Horse Artillery sword.29 Indeed, this pattern of sword was so successful that even attempts by the French military to replace it in 1882 largely failed, and the Model 1822 was still in use with French light cavalry during the World War I.30 Although the quality of these French designs can be seen as good reason for their widespread adoption, the same cannot be said for other French swords that were just as widely copied. The Year IX/XI/XIII/Model 1816 Infantry sword, or ‘sabre-briquet’, is generally considered to be a relatively poor weapon, despite its widespread copying. The ‘sabre-briquet’s’ successor, the gladius-like French Model 1816 Foot Artillery sword, more recognisable in its Model 1831 Infantry sword form, was even more maligned as the infamous ‘cabbage cutter’ yet just as widely copied. Excessively heavy and expensive to produce, the sword provided no hand protection, and had a doubled-edged blade quite unsuited for the fascine knife use for which it was at least partly intended.31 86 25 Kulinsky 2003, p. 279. 26 Schneider & Meier 1971, p. 93. 27 Peterson 1996, p. 32. 28 Maier 1976–1981, pp. 109–111. 29 Maier 1968, Teil 1: Württemberg, p. 71f. 30 Vasse, The French Light Cavalry sword…. 31 Aries 1966. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Fig. 7. Spanish Model 1818 Infantry sword. Inv. no. IX.468. © Royal Armouries d The desire to follow French military trends in edged weapons, even when it’s difficult to see the merits in them, is shown by Russia’s and the US’s adoption of these swords. Firstly, Russia replaced the Prussian inspired Pattern 1807 Infantry sword with the French ‘sabre-briquet’ Pattern 1817 Infantryman’s sword.32 She then phased the Pattern 1817 out for pioneers, engineers and artillerymen in favour of a slightly more pragmatic version of the French ‘cabbage cutter’, the Russian Pattern 1834 Pioneer’s sword with a saw-backed blade.33 However, this saw-backed sword was soon replaced for all foot troops with the Pattern 1848 Infantry’s sword.34 The Pattern 1848 was a direct copy of the French Model 1831 Infantry sword, and just as France designated this new model of the sword for all her dismounted troops, so too did Russia; despite having a more practical version already in service with pioneers. a similar situation occurred in the US, where after copying the French Model 1816 Foot Artillery sword, as the US Model 1832 Foot Artillery sword, the US military subsequently issued this sword to all foot troops, rather than just the artillery35 – once again following French precedent. The example of the United States highlights a wider trend of Frenchification within culturally European militaries. In addition to the wholesale copying of French models of swords, the US Army also replicated other French elements of military culture, by issuing French, kepi-style, forage caps36 and even raising French-styled regiments of Chasseurs and Zouaves. The wider nineteenth century military Frenchification, at least in the case of uniforms, was not only to be seen in the US. Under the influence of the Prince Regent, the British 1812 Dress Regulations had seen the uniforms of the British cavalry change to closely resemble 32 Kulinsky 2001, p. 188. 33 Ibidem, p.192. 34 Ibidem, p.194. 35 Peterson 1996, p. 43. 36 Cole 2007. 87 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 8. Russian Pattern 1834 Pioneer’s sword. Inv. no. IX.365. © Royal Armouries d their French counterparts. More than offering no practical benefit, this made determining friend from foe on a smoke-wreathed battlefield at a time when Britain was still at war with France problematic at best. Hence, Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington (1769–1852) openly criticised the new uniforms as too ‘Frenchified’, but the Regulations were carried out in spite of these impracticalities.37 This desire to make the British cavalry uniforms resemble those of the French, who under Napoleon had become the most celebrated in Europe, continued after the Napoleonic wars. In homage to French Cuirassiers the British Household Cavalry were issued with cuirasses from the coronation of George IV in 1821, with the Royal Horse Guards even being furnished with brazed versions after the French Carabiniers.38 The Prince Regent’s personal interest in Frenchifying his cavalry can be further seen in two swords purchased from the London sword cutler John Prosser (ca. 1769–1837) in 1816 and 1817 respectively. The first (Fig. 9) is from a group of three swords after the French Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry sword, which seems to have been intended as a new pattern for Life Guards, or perhaps even for the whole of the heavy cavalry.39 The second (Fig. 10), derived from the French Model 1784 Cavalry Officer’s sword, is likely to have been purchased as a new pattern for officers of the 2nd Life Guards.40 Although neither was adopted, the British 1834 Dress Regulations confirmed a French style Dress sword for officers of the 2nd Life Guards and surviving examples attest to officers of the Royal Horse Guards having adopted the same pattern.41 In fact dated or datable examples of this pattern show that the 1834 regulations merely confirmed a change of pattern that had occurred at an unknown earlier date.42 This pattern was strongly influenced by the Gendarmerie Officer’s sword of 37 88 Graham 1912, p. 241. 38 Richardson 2015. 39 Information from the late Alexander Vesey B. Norman, ‘Catalogue…’ (forthcoming), kindly made available by the Royal Collection Trust, MS 1269-1271. 40 Ibidem, MS 1233f. 41 Robson 1996, pp. 133–137. 42 Dellar 2013, pp. 207–209. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Fig. 9. Experimental British Cavalry Trooper’s sword. RCIN 71736 (AL.290 70/IX.1268). Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 d Fig. 10. Experimental British Cavalry Officer’s sword and scabbard. RCIN 71755 (AL.290 185/IX.1271). Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 d the French First Empire43 and the contemporary French heavy cavalry officer’s sword, the Model 1822 Line Cavalry sword.44 It is possible that swords similar to the officer’s pattern were issued to troopers and/or NCOs of one or both regiments.45 This regimentally led, rather than centrally imposed, copying of French swords can be seen in at least two other British patterns of sword. The regimental pattern of officer’s sword of the British 4th Dragoon Guards had decidedly French stylings,46 and a pattern of sword specific to pioneers of the elite 52nd Regiment of Foot was copied directly from a model of French sapper’s sword.47 These regimental variants would have been privately purchased rather than issued, and hence suggest the desire to copy French military fashion in the second quarter of the century was at least in part felt by the officer’s themselves, subject, of course to whatever degree of regimental standardisation was enforced. 43 Pétard 1999–2005, vol. I, p. 171. 44 Ibidem, vol. II, p. 95. 45 Dellar 2013, p. 188f. 46 Robson 1996, p. 92f. 47 Royal Armouries, inv. no. IX.2066. 89 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 11. British Royal Horse Guards Officer’s Dress sword and scabbard. Inv. no. IX.1039. © Royal Armouries d Fig. 12. British 52nd Regiment of Foot Pioneer’s sword. Inv. no. IX.409. © Royal Armouries d The general Frenchification of edged weapons is also of interest due to the manner in which it waned. Between 1880 and 1881, almost all of the French inspired edged weapons (the Pattern 1827 Cavalry sword, the Pattern 1841 Dragoon sword, the Pattern 1865 Infantry Officer’s sword and the Pattern 1848 Infantry sword) were withdrawn from Russian service.48 What is particularly worthy of note is the national style of edged weapons that tended to replace these Frenchified weapons in European militaries. From the 1860s, French inspired weapons were often replaced with those of more Germanic, often specifically Prussian, form. Hence, the steel bowl-hilted Spanish Model 1860 sword49 put an end to the long succession of Year XI/XIII Line Cavalry hilted Spanish swords. The same happened in Switzerland, where the equally Prussian-styled 1867 Cavalry sword replaced their French Model 1822 clone, the 1842/52 Cavalry sword.50 However, just as the rise of French edged weapons cannot be wholly ascribed to technological merit, nor can their eclipsing by Germanic styles necessarily be attributed to these new swords being innovative or superior designs. 90 48 Kulinsky 2001, pp. 117, 124, 130, 194. 49 Calvó 1976, p. 35. 50 Schneider & Meier 1971, p. 105. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Fig. 13. Russian Pattern 1827 Cavalry sword and scabbard. Inv. no. IX.7776. © Royal Armouries. d Fig. 14. British Pattern 1821 Heavy Cavalry Trooper’s sword. Inv. no. IX.342. © Royal Armouries d Firstly, the type of weapon that, through Prussian influence, replaced French inspired models was not a new design, or even a Germanic one. Cut-and-thrust swords of this type had been introduced in British service some forty years before. The minimally curved, single fullered, spear-pointed blade and hilt of bowl guard form secured to the blade with a backpiece and ears, had all been features of the British Pattern 1821 Heavy Cavalry Trooper’s sword. Yet swords of this type were not widely copied across Europe until they were promoted by the rise of Prussia in the 1860s. Furthermore, it clearly was not the swords of the Prussians that contributed to their victory in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), as the Prussian cavalry soon adopted the swords of their defeated enemies. The French Model 1822 Light Cavalry sword was taken up by the Prussian Uhlans in 1873, and following troop pressure a similar change was made in the heavy cavalry.51 Prussian Cuirassiers were eventually permitted to carry the sword they had found greatly superior to their own, the French Model 1854 Line Cavalry sword, when it was redesignated the Model 1876 Cuirassier sword.52 Nor was this a simple case of using 51 Maier 1976–1981, vol. 5, pp. 835–839. 52 Ibidem, pp. 867–876. 91 The Ambassadors of Dialogue up captured stock as German made copies were produced until the cavalry sword was finally withdrawn from German field service in 1915. Cleary certain French sword designs were still thought to be superior, even if it was no longer as popular to copy them. It seems therefore that fashion, influence and perception was as at times more important than the weapons themselves in determining their adoption. At the start of the century, national militaries were keen to associate themselves with all things French, as despite her eventual defeat in the Napoleonic Wars, France was still perceived as the pre-eminent army of Europe. However, as Prussia’s influence grew in the 1860s, and particularly after the Franco-Prussian War, foreign militaries looked elsewhere for military fashion and technology to emulate. Hence, the US was willing to adopt a highly impractical French ‘cabbage cutter’ clone, the Model 1832 Foot Artillery sword, but quickly withdrew it from service after the French defeat of 1871. Once again this trend was mirrored by military uniforms, with the US53 and Britain54 discarding their French-styled shakos for Prussian Pickelhaube-like dress helmets in the 1880s. Framed by the rise of the First French Empire (1804–1815) and the fall of the Second (1852–1870), the Frenchification of military swords during the nineteenth century firstly speaks of the development and dissemination of edged weapon design during the industrial age. This was a time when levels of production and sophistication reached new heights, just as these weapons that were constantly being reviewed were becoming increasing redundant in a military context. Perhaps of wider significance is the insight the adoption and rejection of national patterns of weapons can provide into how certain militaries wished to be viewed at a fixed point in time, and also how they were viewed by others. Acknowledgements I am extremely grateful to Philip Lankester (Curator Emeritus and former Senior Curator of the Royal Armouries) for his helpful suggestions, guidance and support. d 92 53 Cole 2007. 54 Styles of Headdress 1661–2000, ‘The Queen’s Royal Surrey Regiment Association’ Website. Henry Yallop s Swords of Empire Bibliography Ariès 1966 Christian Ariès, Armes blanches militaires français, vol. I. [Nantes] 1966. Ariès & Pétard 1980 Christian Ariès and Michel Pétard, ‘Les armes blanches de la réforme du Duc de Choiseul au Drirectoire’, in: Gazette des Armes, 82 (1980), pp. 17–23. Calvó 1976 Juan L. Calvó, Armas blancas para tropa en la caballeria española. Barcelona 1976. Calvó 2005 Juan L. Calvó, Sables de Oficial de Infantería (II): Sables de tirantes con guarnición de metal, 1850– 1920, ‘Catalogación de armas’ website, 2005 http://www.catalogacionarmas.com/public/02-OflInf-2Ref.pdf (accessed June 2015). Cole 2007 David Cole, Survey of the US Army: Uniforms, Weapons and Accoutrements, US Army Centre of Military History, 2007 http://www.history.army.mil/html/museums/uniforms/survey_uwa.pdf (accessed July 2015). Dellar 2013 Richard Dellar, The British Cavalry Sword 1788–1912: Some New Perspectives. [Bath] 2013. Graham 1912 Henry Graham, History of the Queens 16th Light Dragoons (Lancers), 1759–1912. Devizes, 1912. Karlsen, Mathiesen & Ruud 1982 Jan Erik Karlsen, Fredrik Mathiesen and Willy Ruud, Norske blankvåpen 1814–1980. Oslo 1982. Kulinsky 2001 Alexander N. Kulinsky, Russian edged weapons, polearms and bayonets, 18th–20th centuries. Vol. I. St. Petersburgh 2001. Kulinsky 2003 Alexander N. Kulinsky, European Edged Weapons. St. Petersburg 2003. Maier 1968 Gerd Maier, Süddeutsche Blankwaffen. 3 vols. Oberhöfen 1968. Maier 1976 Gerd Maier, Badische Blankwaffen. Biberach 1976. Maier 1976-1981 Gerd Maier, Preussische Blankwaffen. 8 vols. Biberach 1976–1981. Maier 1987 Gerd Maier, Bayerische Blankwaffen. 3 vols. Biberach 1987. Norman, Catalogue… Alexander Vesey B. Norman, Catalogue of European armour and edged weapons in the Royal Collection, (forthcoming), kindly made available by the Royal Collection Trust. MS 1269-1271. 93 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Pérez, The Edged Weapons… Juan J. Pérez, The Edged Weapons Factory at Toledo. Available at ‘The Sword Collector’ website http://www.angelfire.com/wa/swordcollector/toledo.html (accessed June 2015). Pétard 1999–2005 Michel Pétard, Des sabres et des épées. 3 vols. Nantes 1999–2005. Pétard 2006 Michel Pétard, Le sabre d’abordage: histoire du sabre de bord de la marine française, de Louis XIV à la Troisième République. Nantes 2006. Peterson 1996 Harold L. Peterson, The American sword, 1775–1945 a survey of the swords worn by the uniformed forces of the United States from the Revolution to the close of World War II. Philadelphia 1996. Piancastelli 2007 Euro Piancastelli, Lame del Risorgimento. Sciabole, Spade e Daghe dell’Esercito Piemontese e Italiano dal 1814 al 1873. Liguna 2007. Puype 1962 Jan-Piet Puype, Blanke wapens Nederlands slag en steekwapens sinds 1600. Amsterdam 1962. Reeder 1993 B. William Reeder, Swords and Hangers in Europe: 1760–1820. Macclesfield 1993. Richardson 2015 Thom Richardson, ‘The Armour of Waterloo’. Royal Armouries lecture, Leeds, 13 June 2015. Robson 1996 Brian Robson, Swords of the British Army: The Regulation Patterns, 1788 to 1914. London 1996. Schneider & Meier 1971 Hugo Schneider and Jürg A. Meier, Griffwaffen: Siebenter Band in der Reihe Bewaffnung und Ausrustung der Schweizer Armee Seit 1817. Zürich 1971. ‘The Queen’s Royal Surrey Regiment Associaton’ website The Queen’s Royal Surrey Regiment Association, Styles of Headdress 1661–2000 http://www.queensroyalsurreys.org.uk/time_line/headress/headress.shtml (accessed June 2015). ‘The Old Smithy’ website The Yataghan, http://www.old-smithy.info/bayonets/HTNL%20DOCUMNETS/yataghan%20models.htm (accessed July 2015). Tonelli 2001 Tiziano Tonelli, L’armamento della cavalleria napoleonica: dalla Repubblica all’Impero, 1792–1815: Regno italico e Regno di Napoli. Parma 2001. Vasse, ‘The French Light Cavalry sword…’ Nicolas Vasse, The French Light Cavalry sword 1822 Model, ‘Old Swords’ website http://www.oldswords.com/articles/FRENCH%20LIGHT%20CAVALRY%20SWORD%201822%20 MODEL%20-%20A%20classical%20Taste.pdf (accessed July 2015). 94 Elena Titova (The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art, Moscow) Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects \ The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Applied and Folk Art (hereinafter – the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art) is the only museum in Russia devoted to the history of Russian decorative, applied and folk art of the eighteenth to twentieth centuries. The collection of the Museum was formed in 1999 by the merging of the Museum of Folk Art named after Sergey Timofeyevic Morozov (which included the collections of the Crafts Museum founded in 1885) and materials collected by the Scientific Research Institute of Art Industry. The Museum’s collection was amplified thanks to the donations of objects by private collectors. Currently, the collection amounts to 250,000 objects. The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art presents artistic metalwork (including jewellery by major Russian companies of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a rare collection of samovars, and artistic cast ironwork), Russian lacquer miniature artworks, porcelain and glass products of Imperial and private factories, various woodwork and textiles. The Museum collection of Art Nouveau works and Soviet art from the 1920s to 1950s are unique. Recently the museum collection was amplified with brilliant works of modern masters. a special group of objects – gifts of different kinds, a few dozen altogether – is presented in all the collection departments. The gifting tradition is deeply rooted in Russian culture and history. It is noteworthy, that official gifts in Russia are referred to as ‘bestowed’ or ‘granted’, which emphasizes the good and respectful intentions of the presenter. The earliest gifted pieces in the Museum are granted loving-cups (bratina)1 of the late seventeenth century (Fig. 1) and kovsh from the eighteenth century (Fig. 2).2 Bratinas were widely used in the tsar’s family and noble families, and were an essential part of the tableware used at feasts. Its name was derived from the Russian word brat (brother). At banquets a bratina was passed from ‘brother to 1 Inv. no. КП 227, МД 1698. 2 Inv. no. КП МД 325. 95 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Bratina, Moscow, late 17th century d Fig. 2. Award kovsh, Moscow, 1763 d brother’ after a toast and a sip taken from the vessel. Bratinas were often presented as gifts. The bratinas in our collection are made from precious materials which therefore suggests that they were valuable presents. The Kovsh (a drinking ladle), another article of Old Russian tableware, was also frequently gifted. By the seventeenth century, drinking ladles started to be used as rewards for military valour, ambassadorial or loyal service. These honorary kovshes were highly valued and passed on from one generation to the next. In case the owner fell out of favour, the honorary kovsh was returned to the State Treasury. The bottom of this type of drinking ladle was always decorated with the national coat-of-arms, which distinguished them from kovshes of other purposes. Later gifts from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in the collection of our museum are of no lesser interest: for instance, a jubilee drinking horn.3 Such horns were usually jointly bought by officers to mark or celebrate anniversaries of their regiment – or they were presented to some officers by the colonels as a mark of distinction, a reward for their successful military service. A dragoon cavalry sabre, which was presented to Sergei Yulyevich Witte (1849–1915), the prime-minister of Russia, by General Aleksey Kuropatkin (1848–1925) in 1901 is another exclusive item in our collection.4 However, the provenance is not the only point of interest of this item – its craftsmanship is also remarkable. This custom-made piece differs from usual dragoon sabres: the handle is made of black horn instead of wood; the pommel and the knuckleguard are gold-plated; the blade is longer than usual. 96 3 Inv. no. НВ-2831ММ. 4 Inv. nos. КП-26775/1-2; МЖ-987/1-2. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 3. Gift Axe, Zlatoust, 1930s d During the Soviet era, the gifting tradition in Russia was not interrupted and generally remained within its historically established framework. Objects created in time-honoured national forms and techniques kept their place among the most popular gifts. The museum collection holds a unique group of memorable gift axes (Fig. 3).5 They were created in the famous artistic centre of Zlatoust, known for its ornate cold steel arms – and were presented to the shock-workers of the First Five-year plan (1928–1932). These pieces are masterful creations, but they also retained their purpose: cast from the finest steel, the gifted axes could be used to chip wood, and were a practical gift as much as an aesthetically pleasing one. During the Soviet period, memorable gifts from various societies and unions (national/ political/industrial) to the state leaders were a widespread occurrence. a remarkable manifestation of this tendency is the writing set created in Dagestan in 1945 to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Dagestan ASSR formation.6 This piece combines all the necessary qualities of a representational, high-level gift: its finesse and technique represent the high artistic standards achieved in the place of its manufacture, and an attempted guess at the grantee’s preferences and interests. The most prominent masters from Kubachi (Dagestan’s centre of silver jewelry) fashioned their fine creation to look like one of the towers of the Moscow Kremlin – the hallmark and well-established symbol of Russian history and nationhood. Another fine example is the liqueur set (Fig. 4) presented to Joseph Stalin for his 70th birthday by the Leningrad artists association.7 In 1949 the entire country celebrated this event and gifts arrived in Moscow from all parts of the USSR and from friendly states – the 5 Inv. nos. МХП 985, МХП 986, КП 4047, МЖ 197. 6 Inv. no. КП 7766, НМД. 7 Inv. no. МНИ КП 4548/1-9, НМД. 97 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. N. Fogt, Liqueur Set, Leningrad, 1949–1950 d overall amount reaching around 100,000 pieces. The most outstanding presents were displayed in a specially opened museum, which was situated in the Museum of Fine Arts building (now the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts). The aforementioned liqueur set was clearly inspired by Old-Russian architecture, and the decanter is similar to a watchtower in its form. All the pieces are decorated with a stylized floral pattern in enamel over filigree. The collection of our museum also contains gifts for the 70th birthday of another USSR leader – Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982). The gifts to Soviet leaders in the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art form a unique collection of rare historic, cultural and artistic objects of the twentieth century, and offers a glimpse at the intricate relations between people and the government. The diversity of gifts presented to the leaders of the nation is impressive – it includes items of fine art, of folk crafts, as well as some pieces of natural or industrial origin. There is a separate group of objects within the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art collection of state gifts – international presents. These vary from souvenirs to pieces of high artistry, and feature a wide range of techniques and materials. The majority of international gifts unsurprisingly came from friendly countries and governments. For instance, there are two Bulgarian carpets in the collection of our museum. The first one was gifted in 1956.8 This unique item fuses a vibrant artistic vision with traditional folk patterns. The carpet-weaving tradition in Bulgaria has a long and 8 98 Inv. no. КП МНИ-5941, НТГ-195. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 5. Woven Carpet, Bulgaria, 1962, a gift to Nikita Khrushchev during his visit to Bulgaria in 1962 d rich history. Not so long ago, in 2014, the famous carpet weaving centre of Chiprovtsi was included in the UNESCO List of Intangible Heritage. Thus, it is hardly surprising that the Bulgarians presented fine carpets as representative state gifts. Another extraordinarily interesting carpet in our collection was gifted to Nikita Khrushchev (1894–1971) during his visit to Bulgaria in May 1962 (Fig. 5).9 The dynamic and complex imagery of this piece gives a striking representation of outer space, which was a theme of great importance in the 1960s. The frame of the rug includes amicable mottoes (on the upper side: ‘For the peace of all mankind’; on the lower side: ‘Glory to soviet science’). It is noteworthy that corn cobs are also included in the rug’s frame, because Nikita Khrushchev placed a high priority on the cultivation of this crop in the USSR. Another carpet from our collection was presented to Khrushchev during his visit to Romania in June 1962.10 This item is a fine example of imagery, patterns and ornaments typical for Romanian carpet-weaving. 9 Inv. no. КП МНИ-1695, 1НТГ-389. 10 Inv. no. КП МНИ-16949, НТГ-387. 99 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Traditionally, many gifts were presented to the Ministers of Culture. The collection of our museum comprises a selection of international gifts given to Pyotr Demichev (1917– 2010), the Minister of Culture of the USSR from 1974 to 1986. This range of items includes many Bulgarian pieces: a coffee set11 and wine set.12 Copper tableware with silver coating on the inside is typical for Bulgaria. These items are not as unique and valuable as the carpets given to Khrushchev. However, they still represent artistic and cultural values of the country of their origin. The geographical range of state gifts in our collection is just as impressive as their artistic diversity. For instance, the museum holds a set of silver-plated filigree glass-holders in its collection of artistic metalwork that was given to Demichev by the Syrian Minister of Culture in 1986.13 There is even a small token of friendship from Thailand – a metal box, presented to Demichev by Mr. and Mrs. Vacharaphol media moguls and founders of the Thai Rath daily newspaper.14 The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art collection of gifts gives a comprehensive representation of a vast range of topics, such as: the tradition of gifting in Russia in the seventeenth to twentieth centuries, the forms and varieties of gifts typical for Russia, the artistic and craft techniques they were created in and the specifics and geographical coverage of Russia’s cultural relations in the twentieth century. Cultural and artistic interchange also occurred at Universal Expositions (or World Fairs). From a present-day perspective it is obvious that the Universal Expositions were historic milestones. Being an important and broad-reaching platform of communication between states and nations, World Fairs demonstrated the economic and industrial achievements of the time, as well as cultural development and various approaches to cultural policy in the participating countries. The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art possesses a collection of rare and unique pieces of Russian applied art and design that were displayed at World Fairs in Paris (1900, 1925 and 1937) and New-York (1939). There are also objects from later Universal Expos (including Expo 58 in Brussels) as well as from specialized art exhibitions. However, we will focus on the most prominent and momentous (both artistically and historically) World fairs in this paper. The selection of exhibits for world fairs was always a meticulous and rigorous process: in Tsarist Russia it was conducted by a special committee and the commissary of the Russian expo department; during the Soviet period it was conducted by specialists of the Crafts Museum at first and the Scientific Research Institute of Art Industry later on (the collections of both these institutions are united in the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art). 100 11 Inv. no. НВ-2993/1-14 ММ. 12 Inv. no. НВ-4/1-6 ММ. 13 Inv. no. НВ-4493 МБМ. 14 Inv. no. НВ-2832. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Russia participated in every world fair, beginning with the very first one in 1851 in London. At every expo a special place was given to traditional Russian crafts, which consistently took the spotlight and received the highest awards. However, the pavilion of Russian crafts at the 1900 expo in Paris was an unmatched success for a number of reasons. Firstly, never before was Russia presented on such scale (Russia had the largest exhibition area of all – 24,000 square metres). In addition to this, the interest of the Russian intelligentsia and artistic circles towards folk art, which manifested itself for the first time in the 1860s, reached its highpoint at the turn of the century. Many prominent artists of the time, such as Aleksandr Golovin (1863–1930), Vasily Polenov (1844–1927), Victor (1848–1926) and Apollinary Vasnetsov (1856–1933), were involved in the production of sample handicraft pieces, which could afterwards be reproduced by craftsmen in local artistic centres. The high regard that professional artists had towards traditional and folk art was evident in painting, architecture, sculpture and decorative art, and gave a very distinctive character to Russian art at the turn of the century. The pavilion of Russian handicrafts at the 1900 Paris expo stood apart from the other pavilions. It had a very distinct ethnic style and included a chain of small wooden structures in the style of the seventeenth century northern Russian architecture and featured log cabins and a wooden village church. The Russian Village – ‘Village Russe’, as the French called this incredible structure, was built by the architect Ilya Bondarenko (1867–1947) based on the designs of the artist Konstantin Korovin (1861–1939). The interior decorations were designed by another prominent Russian artist – Aleksandr Golovin. Painted wooden carvings, which were placed both in- and outside the buildings, were created by craftsmen of the Moscow region council (zemstvo) toy workshop in Sergiyev Posad and the Abramtsevo carpentry workshop; the drawings were provided by the pavilion’s designers (Korovin and Golovin). The display was divided into sections, each of which presented one material or technique. The expo’s organizing committee aimed to present the work of craftsmen alongside production from the Abramtsevo and Sergiyev Posad workshops, and the Moscow Crafts Museum, where the traditions of Russian crafts were merged with modern, up-to-date artistic tendencies. The central hall of the crafts pavilion presented items designed by artists whose names are indivisibly connected with the very notion of Neo-Russian style, i.e. Mikhail Vrubel (1856–1910), Aleksandr Golovin, Sergey Malyutin (1859–1937), Yelena Polenova (1850– 1898) and Nikolai Bartram (1873–1931). Only a few original pieces from universal exhibitions have been preserved as many of them were sold outright. For instance, the account of the general commissary of the Russian department at the 1900 Paris expo says the following: ‘It turned out that many of the items were successfully sold abroad… The profit from the sales of handicrafts at the Paris expo amounted to 70,000 francs, and out of 380 crates that were sent to France only 37 returned’15. 15 Sankt-Petersburg / Санкт-Петерсбург 1901, p. 52. 101 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 6. Mantelpiece decoration, designed by Mikhail Vrubel. Abramtsevo Studio of Artistic Pottery, early 20th century. From the collection of the S. T. Morozov Museum of Folk Art d Thus, many of the items displayed at the international expos remain only in copies or authorial replicas. The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art holds a few authorial replicas of some of the 1900 expo exhibits, which were displayed in the handicrafts pavilion. The focal point of the central hall was the majolica mantelpiece decoration ‘Mikula Selianinovich and Volha Svyatoslavovich’ designed by Mikhail Vrubel (Fig. 6).16 Vrubel was awarded a Gold medal for this piece, and the talented technician who brought his ideas to life received an honorary mention. Unfortunately, the current location of the original mantelpiece is unknown. However, five more replicas survived in various Russian collections (each one is slightly different in colouring and details). The mantelpiece in our collection is thought to be the closest one to the original version, presented in Paris. Wood has always been one of Russia’s primary export products – and various types of wood were presented in a separate department at the Paris expo. Artistic woodcarving flourished in Russia and featured complex, delicate and inexhaustibly diverse forms. 16 102 Inv. nos. МХП4790; НКФР1290. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 7. Carved wooden back panel of a shelf, designed by Aleksandr Golovin, late 1890s, made in the Abramtsevo carpentry workshop or in the Moscow district council (zemstvo) toy workshop in Sergiyev Posad d A vast selection of wooden pieces was presented in the central hall of the handicrafts pavilion, including furniture. There are two authorial replicas of wooden furniture in the collection of our museum – a bench and a table designed by Yelena Polenova (inv. nos. КП 6083, ДМ 58 and КП 6084, ДМ 59). There is also a piece of an original pavilion decoration preserved in our collection – a fragment of a wooden shelf designed by Aleksandr Golovin (Fig. 7). The 1925 international exhibition of decorative art and modern industry in Paris was the first world fair to take place during the Soviet era of Russian history. With the introduction of the Soviet department, the main concerns of the organizers were the following: ‘How will the refined and pampered Parisians receive our art? … confronted with the diversity of pieces, presented by the numerous nationalities of our state, with the works of our craftsmen … will a cautious visitor recognize the seedlings of renewed culture, the new forms of new existence?’17 The ‘new forms of new existence’ were manifested in the architecture of the Soviet pavilion designed by Konstantin Melnikov (1890–1974). It was one of the most popular pavilions of the exhibition and was highly regarded by Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris – Le Corbusier (1887–1965). The search for new forms is just as evident in the pieces of decorative art that were chosen for display in Paris. There is a selection of unique brooches from the 1925 exhibition in the collection of our museum (Fig. 8).18 They were produced by the ‘Gemstones’ company of artists in Sverdlovsk. It is quite likely that the designs for these brooches were created at the Higher Art and Technical Studios (the so-called Vkhutemas) faculty of wood and metal, which was led by Alexander Rodchenko (1891–1956) from 1922 to 1930. These pieces are stylistically related to both Bauhaus and Constructivist aesthetics. 17 Paris 1925, p. 15. 18 Inv. nos. МХП 13; МХП 14; МХП 16. 103 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 8. Brooch, Sverdlovsk 1925, the ‘Gemstones’ company of artists d Another striking example of the artistic search in the Soviet decorative art of the time are the prototypes of printed fabrics by Evgeni Povstianyi (1895–1970) (Fig. 9), also presented at the 1925 exhibition.19 Povstianyi had an extensive knowledge and appreciation of folk art. During the Civil War, he opened a handicraft workshop in Ukraine, where he produced printed fabrics for local countrymen. The artist constantly referenced traditional Ukrainian patterns and ornaments in his work. However, the fabrics he presented for the Paris exposition differ immensely from the folk textile tradition both stylistically and topically. Their composition is quite modernist: it resembles the bold supremacists’ experiments or the multiexposition technique frequently used by Alexander Rodchenko in his photographs. Many items of Russian folk art displayed in 1925 stayed close to historically established forms and styles (to different degrees), but their imagery was very modern. Such traditional Russian handiwork, as birch bark containers, lacquered papier-mâché boxes, metallic trays were decorated with images of Red Army soldiers, steelmakers, railroads and factories, revolutionary slogans (‘We shall reveal a new path for the humankind, labour will govern the world!’)20 (Fig. 10–11). All pieces of handicraft in the collection of the Museum (including those presented at international expos) were commissioned by the Crafts Museum, which strived to keep traditions alive in the new reality. The woodworks painted by Vladimir Golitsyn (1901–1943) received a Gold medal. Golitsyn was a master of poster art (during the Civil war he created revolutionary posters), type-designer and illustrator. The remnants of the laconic and restrained style of revolutionary posters are notable in his paintings on wood for the 1925 expo (Fig. 12–13).21 104 19 Inv. no. МХП 14479. 20 ‘Мы путь земле укажем новый, Владыкой мира будет труд!’ 21 Inv. no. МХП 8710. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 9. Evgeny Povstyaniy, samples of the ‘Union of the City and the Country’ printed fabrics. Moscow, 1925 d Fig. 10. Evgeniy Telyakovsky, wooden container with an agitation slogan d Fig. 11. Ivan Golikov, Alexander Kotukhin, Alexander Glazunov, lacquer plate of the Palekh Artel of Ancient Russian Painting, 1925 d 105 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 12. Vladimir Golitsyn, decorative panel. Moscow, 1924 d Fig. 13. Vladimir Golitsyn, glove box with the inscription: ‘the Militia on the Parade for the 7th Anniversary of the October Revolution’, Moscow, 1925 d The USSR took the 1937 exhibition in Paris – the first Universal expo since World War I and the 1928 Convention Relating to International Exhibitions – as an important opportunity to display socialist propaganda in the West. Special emphasis was placed on the pavilion architecture. Boris Iofan (1891–1976) and Vera Mukhina (1889–1953) managed to expressed in forms of architecture the symbolic imagery of the Soviet state, celebrating its twentieth anniversary in 1937. The pavilion consisted of six exhibition halls situated in axial alignment. The third hall contained a display dedicated to the culture in the USSR. It showcased paintings and sculptures by such prominent artists of the time as Isaak Brodsky (1883–1939), Boris Ioganson (1893–1973), Sergei Merkurov (1881–1952). The works were clearly propagandistic and were supposed to attest the firm dominance of social realism in Soviet art. 106 Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 14. Viktor Lopatin, sculptural composition ‘Radio-equipped chum (tent)’, Tobolsk, 1936 d The same display included Russian handicrafts pieces. Their authors aimed to reconcile the established tradition with the prevailing artistic system. For example, the lacquer miniature paintings preserve their traditional graphic structure with black backgrounds and the artificial composition of space. The overall imagery, however, differs markedly from the standard set that was previously used by artists. The pieces of lacquer work, even if attached in their artistic implementation to traditional forms and manners, suited the general state ideology perfectly. The ivory sculptural compositions depicting the successful achievements of the new state in promoting industrial and technical advances to the furthest ends of the giant country were awarded prizes. a composition depicting the State administration office of the Northern Sea Route (a state institution created in 1932 for the development of the Arctic region and navigational support of the Northern Route) was awarded a Gold medal. The ‘Radio-equipped chum (tent)’ composition (Fig. 14) was awarded a Silver medal.22 Ceramic dishes (Fig. 15) from the Uzbek SSR, presented at the 1937 expo, are noteworthy for the same reason.23 These are traditional in form, but depict the Soviet emblem or social-realist portraits of the nation’s leaders inside the frame of native folk patterns and ornaments. This successful merging of traditional societies with the new Soviet state was an important part of the government’s ideological programme. 22 Inv. no. КП 58, НДК. 23 Inv. no. КП МНИ-151, НКК-129. 107 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 15. Turab Miraliev, traditional Uzbek plate with the USSR emblem, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, 1936 d A special place was given to the craft of stone-carving at the Paris expo of 1937. From the spring of 1936, painstakingly hard work went on at the ‘Russian gemstones’ (Russkiye samotsvety) works in Leningrad. The craftsmen there were creating a unique exhibit – the map of industrialization in the USSR made entirely of precious and semi-precious stones. Gold, silver and kilograms of gemstones were used to denote the factories, mines, mineral assets, electricity generating plants and railroads. This creation made by Russian stone-carvers became a hallmark of the Soviet pavilion. The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art holds a rare and unmatched selection of lesser-known stone-carving pieces from the 1937 expo (Fig. 16).24 These are the small animal figurines repeating the works of the famous Fabergé company. Miniature animal figures were tremendously popular gift items in tsarist Russia. The Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna (1847–1928) possessed a collection of more than hundred pieces – a whole ‘zoo’. The figurines were carved out of semi-precious stone, sometimes their eyes were encrusted with precious stone (diamonds), some details were made of gold (beaks and claws of the birds etc.). a baboon, owl, lion, pig, elephants and frogs from our collection were displayed at the 1937 expo and are very similar to the works of craftsmen of the beginning of the century. The only difference is that in Soviet Russia no details of precious stones or metals were added – and the carving became a little more geometric. 24 108 Inv. nos. КП МНИ 3600; КП МНИ 3601; КП КП МНИ 3602; МХП 89; МХП 90; МХП 92; МХП 92; МХП 107. Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 16. Selection of stone-carved animal figurines. The ‘Gemstones’, company of artists, Sverdlovsk, 1937 d The universal expo, which took place two years later in New York under the slogan ‘The World of Tomorrow’ was in many ways a successor to the 1937 world’s fair in Paris. The Soviet pavilion of 1939 in many ways resembled the pavilion in Paris – once again it was designed by Boris Iofan and had a similar composition, with a gigantic statue of a Soviet worker on top. a number of exhibits from the 1937 expo were displayed once more in New York (with some changes – for instance, the map of industrialization was updated in line with the developments that had taken place during the intervening two years). The most popular exhibits of the Soviet pavilion were the huge model of the Palace of the Soviets (it weighed 20 tonnes and was 4 metres high), and the life-size recreation of the Mayakovskaya metro station. Alexei Dushkin (1904–1977) recreated one of the sections and placed mirrors on both of its ends, which gave the illusion of a much larger space. The Mayakovskaya station received the highest award. The decorative art pieces displayed in New York directly corresponded with the pavilion’s style and messages (such as the triumph of industrialization, the multi-cultural and multi-ethnic unity of the Soviet state etc.). Sometimes decorative art reflected in a straightforward manner the main exhibits of the pavilion. For instance, a lacquered plate from our collection depicts the Palace of the Soviets in its full glory. Another lacquered piece – a box from Fedoskino, decorated with a social-realist depiction of parachutist ladies (Fig. 17) – suits the expo’s general motto (‘The World of Tomorrow’).25 In the nineteenth century, the vision of the future was associated with railroads and trains, but in the first 25 Inv. no. КП МНИ 3330, НЛМ 334. 109 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 17. Sergey Rogatov, ‘Parachutist Ladies’ lacquered box, Fedoskino, 1938 d half of the twentieth century the idea of flight was much more alluring. The theme of aviation was even more vibrantly represented in the ceiling mosaics of the award-winning Mayakovskaya metro station. Another important point of the official state ideology, which received great artistic attention at the time and was actively propagated, was the theme of collectivization in the USSR. The Fedoskino lacquered box in our collection shows a happy and idyllic scene of life in the renewed countryside. A milestone in the development of Stalin-era art was the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition, which opened in August 1939 (only four months after the New York expo) and was supposed to affirm the success of collectivization and the kolkhoz system. Apart from that, 1939 was the year of Stalin’s 60th birthday, which greatly contributed to the dominance of his image in art. a life-size sculpture of Stalin immediately greeted visitors of the Soviet pavilion in the first hall. We find numerous portrayals of the nation’s leader in decorative art (i.e. the Kholuy lacquered box in our collection, which was on display in New York). As mentioned before, the idea of multi-national unity was of great importance to the general Soviet ideology. a separate hall was dedicated to the friendship of all the different ethnicities and nationalities united by the Soviet state. It was decorated by an enormous panoramic wall painting (80 metres wide and 8.5 metres high), where all the Soviet nationalities were represented in a happy and harmonious unity. This message was carried on in some pieces of decorative art. For example, the Soviet pavilion displayed a vast selection of carpets from the Central Asian republics (both carpets of traditional style and decoration, and the ones created in the mainstream socialist realism style). The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art holds a unique woven Turkmen carpet, which depicts the endurance horse 110 Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Fig. 18. A. Savosin, ‘Endurance Horse Ride’ woven carpet, Turkmenistan, 1938 d race from Ashkhabad to Moscow through the Kara Kum desert in 1935 (Fig. 18).26 This remarkable piece merges the folk craft of carpet-weaving with a strong artistic vision rooted in the medieval book illustrating tradition of the region. Another item of considerable interest is the Kazakh ‘Sports Parade’ tapestry.27 National identity is noticeable through facial types in this otherwise completely mainstream socialist realism carpet. The Azerbaijan ‘Oil Fuel’ woven carpet is yet another exceptional piece in our collection (Fig. 19).28 26 Inv. no. КП МНИ-3356, НТГ-72. 27 Inv. no. КП МНИ-3358, НТГ-74. 28 Inv. no. КП МНИ-3381, НТГ-75. 111 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 19. Ludwig Knitt, ‘Oil Fuel’ woven carpet, Baku, Azerbaijan, 1938 d The range of items from the collection of the All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art presented in this paper is a vibrant example of how shifts in culture, art and aesthetics, messages of different historic eras get reflected in decorative and folk art. Tangible art objects, selected to represent a country internationally give us a comprehensive understanding of many general social aspects: the national mentality, traditions, dominating cultural trends, the development of art schools and centres, extraordinary and timely art achievements and so on. However, on a larger scale they also reflect the priorities of state cultural policy, which are aimed to form a particular national image on the international scene. 112 Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art owns a rather unorthodox collection of objects testifying to the ways and modes of cultural and artistic dialogue between Russia and other countries from the seventeenth to the twentieth centuries. Undoubtedly, they are of interest for both a wide and professional audience and deserve more attention of the international museum community. Acknowledgements The author expresses special thanks for assistance with the preparation of this paper to the following individuals: Olga Bryuzgina, Andrei Gilodo, Svetlana Israelova, Konstantin Narvoyt, Ludmila Pirogova, Alexandra Savenkova, Sergei Vavilov, Elena Vorushilina. d 113 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Bruyzgina 2006 The All-Russian Museum of Decorative Art. Guidebook. Olga Bryuzgina (ed.). Moscow 2006. Gilodo / Гилодо 2011 Andrei Gilodo / Андрей Гилодо, ‘Faberzhe 20 let spustya / Фаберже 20 лет спустя’, in: Karl Faberzhe i mastera kamnereznogo dela. Samotsvetnye sokrovisha Rossii / Карл Фаберже и мастера камнерезного дела. Cамоцветные сокровища России. Tatiana Muntian (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Moskva / Москва 2011, pp. 330–335, 395–405. Moskva / Москва 1952 Kovry Turkmenskoi SSR / Kовры Туркменской ССР. A. A. Akhmedov, A. S. Ivanov, L. K. Zubova / A. A. Ахмедов, А. С. Иванов, Л. К. Зубова (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Moskva / Москва 1952. Moskva / Москва 2013/I Sokrovisha russkogo stilya. Proizvedeniya masterov I hudozhnikov Abramtseva, Sergiyeva Posada i Moskovskogo kustarnogo museya / Сокровища русского стиля: произведения мастеров и художников Абрамцева, Сергиева Посада и Московского кустарного музея. Konstantin Narvoyt / Константин Нарвойт (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Moskva / Москва 2013. Moskva / Москва 2013/II Russkaya lakovaya miniatura. Traditsii i sovremennost / Русская лаковая миниатюра. Традиции и современность. Ludmila Pirogova / Людмила Пирогова (ed.). Exhib. cat. Moskva / Москва 2013. Munich 2011 Palekhskaya shkola 1923–1950: Lakoviye miniaturi ikonopistsev / Палехская школа 1923–1950. Лаковые миниатюры иконописцев. Monika Kopplin / Моники Копплин (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Munich 2011. Narvoyt / Нарвойт 2004 Konstantin Narvoyt / Константин Нарвойт, ‘Kamin “Vstrecha Volgi Svyatoslavovicha i Mikuly Sel’yaninovicha”’ / ‘Камин “Встреча Вольги Святославовича и Микулы Селяниновича’”, in: Antikvariat, predmeti iskusstva i kollektsionirovaniya / Антиквариат, предметы искусства и коллекционирования, 11 (2004), pp. 98–100. Narvoyt / Нарвойт 2005 Konstantin Narvoyt / Константин Нарвойт, ‘Rossiya na Vsemirnoy vistavke 1900 goda / Россия на Всемирной выставке 1900 года’, in: Russkoye iskusstvo / Русское искусство, 2 (2005), pp. 16–19. Narvoyt / Нарвойт 2015 Russkiy stil’ v sobranii VMDPNI / Русский стиль в собрании ВМДПНИ. Konstantin Narvoyt / Константин Нарвойт (ed.). Moskva / Москва 2015. Paris 1925 Union des Républiques Soviétistes Socialistes. Exposition internationale des arts décoratifs et industriels modernes. Catalogue. Paris 1925. Pirogova / Пирогова 2003 Russkaya lakovaya miniatura. Istoki i sovremennost’ / Русская лаковая миниатюра: истоки и современность. Ludmila Pirogova / Людмила Пирогова (ed.). Kaliningrad / Калининград 2003. 114 Elena Titova s Diplomatic and Cultural Dialogue via Objects Sankt-Peterburg / Санкт-Петербург 1901 Uchatiye Rossii na Vsemirnoy Parizhskoj vistavke 1900 goda. Otchet general’nogo komissara russkogo otdela / Учатие России на Всемирной Парижской выставке 1900 года. Отчет генерального комиссара русского отдела. Sankt-Peterburg / Санкт-Петербург 1901. Tikhomirova / Тихомирова 2004 Elena Tikhomirova, ‘O chem rasskazivayet zlatoustovskoe oruzhiye iz kollektsii VMDPNI’ / ‘О чем рассказывает златоустовское оружие из коллекции ВМДПНИ’, in: Antikvariat, predmeti iskusstva i kollektsionirovaniya / Антиквариат, предметы искусства и коллекционирования, 11 (2004), pp. 62–75. 115 PART III Material Culture as a Tool of Diplomacy. Various Aspects of Diplomatic Gifts in Museum Collections Ann Grönhammar (Royal Armoury in Stockholm) Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia and Two European Vassal States of the Ottoman Empire in the 17th Century \ The Establishment of the Silk Road to Stockholm On the 17th of September, 1687, King Charles XI of Sweden (r. 1660–1697) signed a trade agreement with five Armenian merchants at the Royal Castle of Three Crowns in Stockholm.1 The taxes for their merchandise were established at the lowest possible rate of 2%. In the fourth article of the document, the Royal benignity showed no limits: ‘As the Armenians will experience much more of our Royal grace and favours we not only confirm it [i.e. freedom from the License fee – A.G.] for next spring but also for the next two years, which our Envoy Lieutenant-Colonel Fabritius on our behalf has promised them, but even more, until they have learned the manners of the nation and got into the habit of handshaking, they will have nine years completely free of the license fee for their goods, the ones brought here as well as the return of them.’2 The reason for this warm welcome from the King was the prospect of great profit through the trade as such, but also the new possibility to develop silk manufacturing in Sweden and thereby avoid the ruinous dependence on imports. This was the idea of mercantilism that several absolute monarchs adhered to in those days.3 1 Kungliga Biblioteket, Engeströmska samlingen, Hs E.S. B.II.1.7 (nr 26), 17th of September 1687. 2 Author´s translation from Swedish. 3 Ekegård 1924, p. 93. 119 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Sabre and its scabbard, the only still extant part of a diplomatic gift from the Persian Shah in 1687 (photo by Jenny Bergensten) d The five Armenian merchants had arrived in Stockholm in June 1687 together with the Swedish envoy to Persia, Ludvig Fabritius (1648–1729), and according to a short note in Charles XI’s calendar on the 29th of July, 1687, they were received that day at a royal audience.4 The Armenians presented the King on this occasion with a sumptuous gift from Shah Suleiman I (r. 1666–1694) including a sabre – a so-called kilij, probably made in Ottoman Empire – preserved in the Swedish Royal Armoury (Livrustkammaren) to this day (Fig. 1).5 The hilt and the scabbard are covered with gold and silver decorated with semi-precious stones and some glass pieces, mostly coloured green, red and rose. On the blade made of damascus steel there are some worn traces of Arabic letters encrusted in gold. All items included in the gift are listed in an appendix at the end of the only written biography of Ludvig Fabritius, under the title: ‘From Persia to the King of Sweden’. The sabre was one of seven, as seen here from the list: ‘7 beautiful young horses, with three ordinary housings 7 Parade housings embroidered in gold 7 Sabres decorated in gold 7 Bridles decorated in gold 7 Bows with arrows and quivers. The quivers in pearls and precious stones richly decorated 1 magnificent large Persian tent, and 1 smaller of the same.’6 120 4 Hildebrand 1918. 5 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. nos. LRK 7717, LRK 7718. 6 Kempe 1762, appendix. Author´s translation from Swedish. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... The gifts from the Shah were presented by the five merchants led by Arnusch Wertanson (Arm.: Anush Vartanian). At this ceremony, the official letter from the Shah was probably handed over to the King by Fabritius. He had received it at the farewell audience in Isfahan, in an oblong envelope made in silk brocade in sparkling colours sealed with the Shah’s signet. It was given to him by the First Ceremony Master ‘on the turban of whom it was presented according to the Persian habit’. The letter sack, as well as the letter are still preserved in the Swedish National Archives.7 The Persian Silk Coat – A Gift from the Tsar of Russia? In addition to the aforementioned sabre given by the Shah in the Royal Armoury collection in Stockholm there is also a Persian silk coat.8 It shows all the characteristics of being manufactured in Isfahan at the beginning of the seventeenth century during the reign of Shah Abbas I (r. 1588–1629). This silk coat’s fine apricot yellow velvet piles, interwoven with silver and gold thread, shows the repeated design of a Persian young man standing in a conventionalized garden, drinking a cup of wine. This garment is very rare nowadays. According to experts, it’s a highly valued example of a garment that was presented ceremonially by the Shah, ‘from his own shoulders’, to distinguished guests at his court in Isfahan (Fig. 2–4). Unfortunately we have no reliable sources of how it came to Sweden. It was mentioned in the Royal wardrobe inventory in 1672, as delivered from the Royal Collections (Husgerådskammaren), where it had been kept, with the following information: ‘it was given to honour Her Royal Majesty Queen Christina by the Grand Prince of Russia.’9 In exhibition catalogues the coat is thus described as a gift from the Russian Tsar. It is then either supposed to have been presented by Tsar Michael I of Russia (Mikhail Fyodorovitch Romanov, r. 1613–1645) followed by the presumption that this Tsar had given it to the Swedish embassy in Moscow on the announcement of Queen Christina’s (r. 1632–1654) coming of age and her accession to the throne in 1644. However, it could also have been a gift from his successor brought to the Swedish court by a Russian embassy visiting Queen Christina to announce the accession to the throne of Tsar Alexis of Russia (Aleksey Mikhailovich, r. 1645–1676). In most catalogue texts Tsar Alexis is named as the most likely donor.10 In either case the design of the coat was not quite up to date, as the historian of textiles Agnes Geijer established in 1951. She finds it less plausible that the coat was 15–20 years old when it was presented to the Queen. She simply refers to an exhibition 7 Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Persica 1. Handlingar rörande Ludvig Fabritius beskickningar 1679–1700, p. 217; Geijer 1951, pp. 43–44. 8 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. no. LRK 6195. 9 Hellner 1990, p. 86. The Royal Wardrobe was incorporated in the Royal Armoury in the second half of the nineteenth century. 10 Geijer 1951, p. 42. 121 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 2. The Persian silk coat, woven and sewn in Isfahan in the time of Shah Abbas I, beginning of the 17th century (photo by Göran Schmidt and Eric Lernestål) d Fig. 3. Detail of the Persian silk coat (photo by Göran Schmidt and Eric Lernestål) d catalogue from 1904 which states that the Persian coat had been given from Tsar Aleksey Mikhailovich. She doesn’t suggest any earlier diplomatic exchange between the Russian Tsar and Queen Christina, when it could have easily taken place. Christina herself wrote 122 Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Fig. 4. The Persian silk coat – view from the back (photo by Göran Schmidt and Eric Lernestål) d in her autobiography in Rome at the end of her life that she, in an elaborate ceremony, had received an embassy from the Tsar in 1633, when she was just aged seven. They had come to bring her the Tsar’s condolences after the death of her father Gustavus Adolphus in the ongoing Thirty Years’ War in 1632 at Lützen. It was also important for them to confirm the Peace Treaty of Stolbova in 1617. According to tradition they presented sumptuous gifts to little Queen Christina during the audience ceremony.11 However, in 1951, Geijer refers in a note to a text by Johan Fredrik Martin from the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, where he remarks not only that the envoys from Frederick III, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp to Persia in the 1630s, at their departure from Isfahan each received ‘a caparisoned horse and a coat’, but also that a Persian envoy came with lots of gifts in 1639 to Holstein-Gottorp.12 Geijer doesn’t follow up this thread, and apparently nobody has looked deeper into the possibility that the coat could have come in some way by passing Schloss Gottorp to Stockholm. There might be something in Martin’s observation. There were many links between the Persian-inspired ducal court and the Swedish royal court. One person communicating between these courts (besides all the family relations!) was the envoy of that famous embassy to Persia – and hence a receiver of a coat from the Shah – Philip Crusius (1597–1676) (Fig. 5 and 6). Along the great embassy’s 11 Christina 2006, pp. 50–51. 12 Geijer 1951, pp. 41–42. 123 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 5. Portrait of Philip Crusius, envoy of the Great Embassy to Persia in 1633–1639. Engraving from Adam Olearius’ travel book Vermeherte Newe Beschreibung Der Muscowitischen und Persischen Reyse… (1656) (photo by M. Östling) d tour from Holstein-Gottorp to Persia he continually sent reports to the Swedish Regency, led by the Chancellor of the Realm Axel Oxenstierna (1583–1654).13 In the 1630s this embassy had the same purpose as Fabritius’s embassies had 50 years later: to establish the importation of raw silk from Persia by the trade route through Russia to the Baltic Sea. Several actors are identified behind the project, including the merchants of Hamburg and the Swedish Regency during Christina’s minority. From an economic point of view this large enterprise failed, but culturally it became a great success, not least through the famous and widely spread travel book by the secretary Adam Olearius (1599– 1671). He created a sensational documentation of what the 120-or-so members of the embassy experienced, including the exotic social life, culture and nature whilst travelling to and from Isfahan in the years 1633–1639.14 124 13 Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Persica 2. Holsteinska sändebuden Philip Crusius och O. Brügemans skrivelser till svenska regeringen 1633–1635. Krusenstjern 1972. 14 Olearius 1647. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Fig. 6. Coat-of-arms of the Crusentierna family. Philip Crusius was ennobled by Queen Christina in 1649. He chose a silk bundle as an heraldic sign on his coat-of-arms as a reminder of his visit to Persia in the 1630s (photo by the House of Nobility, Stockholm) d Later, Philip Crusius was employed by the Swedish Crown and in 1649 he was ennobled by Queen Christina as a reward. From then on he was called Philip Crusius von Crusenstiern (or Krusenstierna in Swedish) and during his long life he become well known among his contemporaries as an expert on the silk trade and in all Russian matters. Did he, maybe, present Queen Christina with his own silk coat which he had received from the Shah in Isfahan? Or, did it rather enter the Swedish Royal Collections through Hedwig Eleonora, the daughter of Duke Frederick III and Duchess Maria Elisabeth of Saxony, who was sent to Sweden in 1654 to marry the new King Charles X Gustav? Did she bring this garment as an interesting piece of curiosity from her home where curiosities were gathered by her father in the most famous Wunderkammer of Northern Europe? The very large Persian ‘Hunting Carpet of Kashan’ woven in silk, still in the Royal Palace, came from Schloss Gottorp. She, and her parents, certainly brought along several Persian objects to her new royal court. We cannot at this moment progress further without a deeper look into the written archival sources. However, all these suggestions of how the Persian coat came to Stockholm point to peaceful diplomatic circumstances, in contrast to its paid acquisition or as war booty. The carefully preserved Persian silk coat certainly gives us proof of the interest in Persian matters in Sweden during the seventeenth century. Swedish Hunger for the Raw Silk Trade and the Importance of the City of Narva from the times of John III to Charles XI There may only be a few preserved objects testifying to the diplomatic activities aimed at the importation of raw silk from Persia in the seventeenth century in the collection of the Royal Armoury, but throughout the century the project was given the highest priority and many diplomatic efforts were made to realize it. 125 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 7. Martin Mijtens the Elder, Portrait of Ludwig Fabritius, after 1687. National Museum in Stockholm, inv. no. Gr 153 d When Fabritius returned to Sweden in the summer of 1687, he had succeeded. His tour had lasted for four years, but now he came accompanied by Armenian merchants bringing heavy bales of raw silk to Stockholm. This silk had been brought to Sweden along a trade route direct from Persia, passing northwards along the Caspian Sea and the important market town of Astrakhan on the Volga estuary, continuing on this and other Russian rivers, passing Moscow and finally arriving at the port of Narva on the Baltic Sea. For his faithful services to the Swedish Crown in bringing these merchants from Persia to Sweden, Fabritius was soon ennobled by the King. The heraldic symbols that he chose for his family’s coat-of-arms were the Persian turban and the Shah’s lion with the rising sun. The metal shield with these visible signs of his foremost achievement was hung on the wall at the House of Nobility – where it can still be seen (Fig. 7 and 8). Swedish sovereigns had tried to obtain this trade for one hundred years. It started under the reign of King John III (r. 1568–1592), having captured Narva at the end of the sixteenth century, and was continued by Charles IX (r. 1604–1611) and his son Gustavus II Adolphus (r. 1611–1632), Queen Christina and her cousin and successor of the throne Charles X Gustav (r. 1654–1660). All of them tried in every peace negotiation with the Russians to obtain the right to trade across Russian territory and gain access to the riches from Asia, first of all the highly profitable silk from Persia. The ambition was quite simply – to acquire control over all trade directed to the Baltic Sea.15 Seen from the horizon of the growing 15 126 Ekegård 1924, p. 49. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Fig. 8. Ludwig Fabritius’ (ennobled in 1687) coat-of-arms showing a turban and the Persian lion with the sun, symbols associated with his mission to Persia (photo by House of Nobility, Stockholm) d realm of Sweden-Finland, this sea increasingly became a Mare Nostrum, at least in the eyes of King Gustavus II Adolphus and his Chancellor of the Realm, Axel Oxenstierna.16 The plan was in constant competition with the influential gosti, Russia’s elite merchants close to the Tsars, and the trading companies of the Dutch and English merchants. To John III’s disappointment, after his takeover of Narva in 1581, its attractive trade was transferred to other cities, such as Reval, Pskov, Riga and to Archangelsk by the White Sea. Tsar Ivan the Terrible (r. 1547–1584) gave the English Muscovy Company the monopoly of the Russian trade a year later in 1582. This monopoly lasted until Tsar Aleksey Mikhailovich ended it in 1649. Archangelsk became the new trading point, first reached by the English, but soon also by Dutch ships sailing northwards all the way round the Scandinavian Peninsula. There they acquired Oriental textiles, precious stones as well as Russian sable, hemp and wax brought from Moscow on the Dvina River. This trade route avoided the high tolls charged by the ports of the Baltic Sea but it meant a very short sailing season on open waters. From the end of the 1660s the much desired transportation of trade to Narva at last seemed possible. The great Swedish embassy to Moscow in 1674 was not only loaded with fabulous amounts of silver vessels for the Tsar, but also brought a load of heavy arguments for Swedish access to the silk trade through Russia. The official reason for the embassy was the announcement of King Charles XI’s accession to the throne.17 The mission suggested 16 Andrén 2003. 17 Silverstolpe, Kudriavtseva and Zagorodniaja 2014, p. 29. 127 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 9. A Tatar boot, the oldest item in the Royal Armoury in Stockholm, a reminder of a diplomatic visit made by the Crimean Khanate envoy in 1581 (photo by Göran Schmidt) d that if the Swedes got the right to transnational access across Russian territory to Oriental trade, Russian merchants were guaranteed access to Swedish resources. Even the important copper mines in Swedish Dalecarlia were generously offered as compensation. The Russians refused to discuss the matter. The answer was quite frankly that Swedish trade had a very small impact in Russia compared to the really important trading nations, the Dutch and the English! But still, a few years later a silk road to Stockholm was established thanks to the signing of two major commercial contracts with Russia, in 1667 and 1673, which furnished the Armenian representatives of the New Julfa trading company in Isfahan with various privileges.18 Permission from the Tsar had then become unnecessary and this resulted in the aforementioned trade agreement with the Swedish King in September 1687. Armenian merchants hereafter arrived from time to time to Stockholm, but most importantly, established themselves in Narva with Persian raw silk – their monopoly product and other Persian goods, which were kept in a store house specially built for them.19 This success in trade lasted for thirteen years. In 1700, the Great Nordic War broke out and Tsar Peter´s troops brought the Persian silk trade to the Baltic through Russia to an end. 128 18 Artsvi 2014, p. 25. 19 Troebst 1993, p. 162. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Diplomatic Exchanges with European Vassals of the Ottoman Turks A focus on political aims in a diplomatic dialogue seems to have been the main purpose rather than commercial motives behind a number of items of Oriental origin in the Royal Armoury. Gifts from the Crimean Khanate and Transylvania reflect efforts made to realize political alliances in warfare during the seventeenth century. The Crimean Khanate by the Black Sea extended over a vast territory corresponding to parts of present-day Southern Russia, Ukraine and Moldova. The Khans, the inheritors of Genghis Khan of the Mongol Empire, were in continuous diplomatic dialogue with Sweden from the reign of King John III. During his war against Russia to prevent this eastern neighbour from gaining hegemony over the whole of the Finnish Bay including Narva and the Estonian coast, an embassy from the Crimean Khanate visited Stockholm in 1580–1581.20 From this visit one Tatar boot is preserved, probably originally from a full pair of boots!21 It is a riding boot with a leather (saffian) surface richly decorated with silver embroidery (Fig. 9). The surprisingly frequent visits to Stockholm by the Khanate of Crimea had the purpose of offering military assistance with raids into the enemy’s territory. The Tatar warriors were experts in bold and terrifying horse attacks skilfully using their bows and arrows, especially frightening as they had the habit of systematically taking prisoners and selling them at slave markets. Though the Khanate of Crimea had been incorporated into the Ottoman Empire in 1478, it had retained some degree of independence. While the Sublime Porte was too busy with diplomatic relations with Venice and the Catholic states of Austria, Spain and Muslim Persia, the Khans acted as the Sultan’s representatives in Christian states in northern and eastern Europe, e.g. Russia, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and eventually Sweden.22 Among the diplomatic documents categorised as Turcica and Tatarica in the Swedish National Archive (Riksarkivet), are letters from several Tatar Khans, ‘the Emperor of the Crimean Tatary’, residing at the Palace of Bakhchysarai at the southern end of the Crimean peninsula. There are also drafts of Swedish answers, as well as invoices for the Tatar envoys’ accommodation and per diems in Stockholm. There are also more than 80 letters dated from 1592 up to around 1740, written by members of the Crimean Tatar Horde to the Swedish Royal House. Letters from the Khan’s mother were answered by Hedwig Eleonora, Queen Dowager of the Realm, in 1671 and 1680. Traces of female actors are otherwise very few among the diplomatic documents, but here the special role of the mother of a Khan stands out as having the same position that the Sultan’s mother (valide sultan) had at Topkapi Serai.23 Maybe this role also made sense in the case of the Swedish Queen Dowager, the mother of King Charles XI, who lost his father in his early childhood? 20 Arne 1952, p. 344. 21 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. no. LRK nr 7127. 22 Ettlinger 1998, p. 7. 23 Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Turcica bihang Tatarica, 1. Svenska sändebuds brev och depescher, förhandlingar, tatarkhanens brev till Kungl Maj:t 1592–1742. 129 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 10. Quivers for bow and arrows from the Khan Canibek Giray presented to Gustavus II Adolfus in 1630. The red textile is embroidered with gold and silver in local Crimean-Russian style (photo by Göran Schmidt) d In the Royal Armoury we find two sets of opulent weaponry typically used by the Tatars: quivers for bow and arrows (Fig. 10).24 The oldest set dates from the embassy of Khan Canibek Giray (r. 1610–1635 with intermissions) received by Gustavus Adolphus at an audience in the Royal Castle of Uppsala, handed over by the envoy Kamber Aga25 during the audience that took place on the 8th of January, 1630. Before the end of the previous year the King had taken the final decision to go against the Catholic Emperor, a decision that was painstakingly prepared by arguments pro et contra in the Council of the Realm assembled at Uppsala.26 In this moment all help from friends that were enemies of the Realm’s enemies was welcome. The quivers for the bow and arrows are covered in red velvet embroidered in silver in a large, abstract flower design. The textiles expert Agnes Geijer describes it in detail, as sewn using a ‘typical embroidery technique for Turkish metal embroideries: the goldthread consists of multifold gilt silver wire (skofium) – and lies solely on the right side, being attached by an invisible thread along the outer margin of the forms. Owing to the multifold metal wire this technique gives a plaited effect which distinguishes these from European 130 24 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. nos. LRK 7744, LRK 7745. 25 Arne 1952, p. 331. 26 Kullberg 1878, pp. 228–229. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Fig. 11. Quivers for bow and arrows in Ottoman style, a diplomatic gift from Canibek Giray of Crimea, 1633. The red velvet is covered by gold and silver mountings in a flower design, in which tulips are easily distinguished. Light green cut peridotes stand out among the semiprecious stones, and there are also turquoises and rubies along the borders (photo by Eric Lernestål) d specimens.’27 The shiny and smooth surface of the embroidery, which gives it a particular look, is due to its final treatment when it was rubbed all over with a polishing-stone. The corners where the leather straps are attached, are decorated with two dragon-like animals in gold facing each other entwining a blue stone, probably a sapphire. The second set of quivers is even more elaborate. Both quivers are covered in tulip-patterned gold sheets with semiprecious stones such as turquoises, rubies and green peridots mounted on the surface (Fig. 11).28 This set was intended as a gift once again from Khan Canibek Giray to King Gustavus Adolphus, but the envoy Nor Ali Olan Mirza who brought it to Stockholm only arrived in April 1633.29 This was too late, as the King had been killed at the battlefield of Lützen in Saxony-Anhalt in November 1632. The Tatar legates were accompanied by Benjamin Baron, who had also come the previous spring with a group from the Crimean Emperor.30 Their message then had been to regretfully inform the king that 30,000 Tatars ready to assist His Majesty against the Habsburg Emperor and the Catholic League had unfortunately been employed by the Ottoman Empire against the Persians. However, they had offered to come the following year with more than 30,000 27 Geijer 1951, p. 67. 28 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. nos. LRK 5695, LRK 5696; Stockholm 2001, p. 133. 29 Arne 1952, p. 331. 30 Kullberg 1880, p. 167. 131 The Ambassadors of Dialogue men, if only His Majesty could persuade George I Rákóczi, Prince of Transylvania (r. 1630– 1648) to let them pass through his land. They also expressed the Tatar Emperor’s gratitude for the generous gifts from His Majesty the King. Now in April 1633, the Tatars had returned with a new letter from the Khan. They were deeply disappointed not having met the King in German countries, explained their spokesman Benjamin Baron. Some of the Councillors were eager to get rid of the Tatars as quickly as possible, but it was decided to give them a proper audience, as it was ‘worth noticing that they could be used against our enemies, and should not be displeased.’31 It was explained to the Tatars that since the King was now dead it was the Councillors of the Regency of His Majesty’s daughter, as he had no son, who would give the ceremonial audience ‘and everything will be arranged with the same power and authority, as if His Majesty himself was present.’ Most certainly this was the moment, on the 3rd of May, when the envoys from Crimea handed over the gift from the Khan, the richly decorated quivers, to the high officials in the Chamber of the Council, Råd-Cammaren. According to the usual proceedings, the Crimean envoys were to be given a generous present ‘as Her Majesty’s and the Crown’s reputation had to be searched for.’ The minutes from the Regency’s meetings reveal that the Tatars were less welcome than other envoys and there was some confusion as to what to do with them. Finally they were shown respect, as the King had asked for their assistance, he had sent Benjamin Baron to them, and he had sent gifts to the Khan. They could certainly become useful in the future against the Habsburg Emperor and Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth – if the Swedish government could guarantee their free passage through the territory of the Prince of Transylvania, which the Tatars insisted on. Other embassies from foreign sovereigns arrived at the Swedish capital in those days, when the power of the Realm was in a state of transition between a dead king and his successor. Envoys from the Duke of Holstein arrived. They brought up the topic of collaboration with the great embassy to Persia with the purpose of establishing a direct trade across Russia to the Baltic Sea – a plan mentioned previously. In discussions with the Holstein envoys, great expectations were expressed on the favourable economic outcome of the Persian negotiations: ‘it was supposed that all East Indian trade thereby would be ruined.’32 A delegation from the Russian Tsar also showed up, sent by the Grand Prince (Mikhail Fyodorovich Romanov) and the Patriarch (Filaret). The Russians wanted to discuss a renewal of the peace agreement and the delicate question of the common alliance against the Commonwealth. In contrast to the simpler official ceremonial audience given the Tatars in the Chamber of Council, the envoys from Holstein and Russia were received in a traditional ceremony in grand style by the 7 year-old heir to the throne, Queen Christina, in the Royal Palace. The Russians also insisted on seeing the dead King; his corpse had now, in June 1633, been transported from Pomerania to Nyköping, south of Stockholm. 132 31 Ibidem, p. 103. 32 Ibidem, p. 110. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... We know from Christina’s own words that gifts were presented to her from the Tsar, but none of these have (probably) survived until today in the Royal Armoury collection. Only the gift given by the Tatars can still be seen. Apparently the gold shimmering set of quivers from the Crimean Khan in 1633 was immediately transferred to the Treasury, where it could be admired by visitors such as the French embassy the year after. The legation’s secretary Charles Ogier wrote in his diary on the 10th of May, 1634: ‘I visited the Swedish treasury where the valuables of the realm are stored’. Among them he saw a quiver covered with ‘emeralds, a gift from the Great Khan of the Tatars.’33 During the spring of 1633 the stories of the provenances of the diplomatic gifts treated in this article seem to converge in the minutes of the Swedish Council of the Regency. This included the gift from the Persian Shah, and the dilemma of the Persian coat; was it a later Russian gift or was it connected to the Holstein-Gottorp Persian project? The envoys from the Crimean Khanate presented the most precious quivers, and it seemed as the spirit of the Prince of Transylvania somehow hovered over the negotiations with the envoys from the Crimean Khan. They both were Ottoman vassals, but under different conditions. Swedish relations with Transylvania could be defined as more intimate. The Prince of Transylvania – Gustavus Adolphus’ Ally, Relative and Coreligionist In the Royal Armoury the diplomatic gift from the Prince of Transylvania refers to a fabulous set of horse equipment including some weapons which was sent by the Transylvanian Prince Gabriel Bethlen (r. 1613–1629) to Gustavus Adolphus. It is supposed to have arrived in 1626 as a sort of confirmation of their new family relationship. They became brothers-in-law that year as Bethlen married the Princess Catherine of Brandenburg (1604-1649). She was the sister of Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg (1599-1655), who had married Gustavus Adolphus in 1620. The brother of the two sisters was the Elector George William of Brandenburg (r. 1619-1640). This marriage helped Bethlen strengthen his political alliance with the Protestants, as he himself was a Calvinist, in opposition to the Catholic Habsburg Emperor, although he was also a vassal within the Ottoman realm. As vassal he paid tributes to the Sublime Porte and in return he got military assistance when needed against his enemies. The gift from the Prince of Transylvania was manufactured in Istanbul, at the Sultan’s workshops in the Palace of Topkapi, as is revealed by stamps on metal parts of the gift. The saddle, caparison, headstall, stirrups, sabre and putschan mace are all lavishly decorated in gold and precious stones, jade, rubies and turquoises (Fig. 12-14).34 The story behind this presumed diplomatic gift in 1626 is that the Prince wished to not only celebrate family relations but also to get assistance from 33 Ogier 1914, p. 106. 34 Royal Armoury in Stockholm, inv. nos. LRK 9043, LRK 9044, LRK 9045, LRK 9046, LRK 10794, LRK 10795, LRK 10912. 133 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 12. Saddle, caparison and one stirrup of the testamentary gift from Gabriel Bethlen, Prince of Transylvania, to his brother-in-law, King Gustavus Adolphus (photo by Göran Schmidt) d Gustavus Adolphus. However, in 2005 a new interpretation of the Bethlen gift emerged. The items were then on loan to museums in Budapest and Hungarian curators there were familiar with the items described in the will of Prince Bethlen and according to it they should have been sent after his death to his brother-in-law in Sweden including ‘the third best of his horses’. The Prince died on the 15th of November, 1629. The other brother-inlaw, the Elector George William of Brandenburg, also inherited a similar set of objects. Our perception of these items has now shifted in various ways. As the items apparently were an inheritance, is it then correct to regard them as a diplomatic gift? Anyhow, they recall a political relation and the Prince maybe wanted them to be used as diplomatic gifts by his widow as heir to the throne of Transylvania, and fulfil his cooperation with her own brother and her sister’s husband – which she did not.35 After less than a year as sovereign, Prince Catherine (not Princess!) of Transylvania converted to Catholicism and became an adherent of the Emperor, whereafter she resigned.36 The objects may have come in 1630, though confirmation of this has yet to been found. The envoy Heinrich Dreiling was sent 134 35 Deák 2009, pp. 85–86. 36 Oxenstierna 1915, p. 748. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Figs. 13–14. The putschan mace and the sabre from Gabriel Bethlen, which were shown in the Royal Armoury after King Gustavus Adolfus’ death, next to his bloodstained clothes (photo by Erik Lernestål) d from Prince Catherine of Transylvania to Stockholm at the beginning of 1630. There has yet to be research carried out to trace his documental footprints.37 The year 1626 was of great importance for political relations between Gustavus Adolphus and Gabriel Bethlen. The envoy Philip Sadler, when sent by Gustavus Adolphus to the Prince of Transylvania, was meant to discreetly join the bridal suite following Princess Catherine from Berlin, but he came too late.38 After many difficulties he arrived at last at Alba Julia (Hung.: Gyulafehérvár, Lat.: Apulum), and could give the King’s wish for the participation of Prince Bethlen of Transylvania in the war against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. This errand brought to the Prince shifts the perspective once more of the presumed circumstances behind the objects; it was the Swedish King who searched for support, not the Prince. a detailed report written by Sadler shows how the Prince refuses to attack the Polish King – his old friend – but with the help of the Grand Vezir and the 37 Kármán 2013, p. 4. 38 Westrin 1890, p. 171. 135 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 15. A recognizable headstall gifted by Gabriel Bethlens to Gustavus Adolphus, reused at the celebrations of Charles XI’s coming of age and assumption of Government in 1672 (photo by Erik Lernestål). Royal Armoury LRK 9044 d Ottoman forces including Tatars the Emperor’s territories would be threatened by passing through Silesia. It was the Catholic Emperor who was their common enemy, argued the Prince. This offer was a bit too early for Gustavus Adolphus as the Emperor was not yet his direct enemy, which King Sigismund III Vasa (r. 1587–1632) was, his cousin, who he was busy approaching as he moved the theatre of war westwards along the Baltic coastline, to Prussia and the ports of Danzig (Pol.: Gdańsk) and Elbing (Pol.: Elbląg).39 Later on, in the middle of the seventeenth century the items from the Prince of Transylvania on display in the Royal Armoury were described as a gift from the Ottoman Sultan. During the Diet that preceded the coronation of Queen Christina in 1650, the clergyman Jonas Petri wrote in his diary on the 6th of September: ‘Therafter, recreationis causa, I went to the Armoury in the Castle. Among other things worthy of thoughts, there was the horse, from which the deceased King Gustavus Adolphus was struck to death.… In the same coffin, as those dresses were, there was also a sceptre and a sabre with precious stones, which was said to have been sent by the Ottoman Emperor to His Royal Majesty.’40 There are two puzzling statements in the clergyman’s notes of what he saw. Firstly the two items, which certainly belonged to the gift or inheritance from the Transylvanian Prince, are said to have been given by the Turkish Emperor, i. e. the Ottoman Sultan (true enough, in a way.) Secondly, the putschan mace and the sabre are lying in intimate proximity to the Kings blood-stained dresses, in the same coffin. It’s evident that this gift was regarded as 136 39 Ahnlund 1918, p. 103. 40 Petri 1837, p. 174. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Fig. 16. The great horse show Certamen Equestre celebrating Charles XI’s coming of age and accession to the throne in 1672 was a moment when diplomatic gifts of Ottoman design were reused at the Royal court. The group called ‘the violent Turks’ was led by ‘the distinguished and honourable lord Baron Gustaf Banér, councillor of the realm, under the name of Knight of Puissance’. Dressed in a kaftan he rides a horse with a headstall given to him by Gabriel Betheln. Copperplate by David Klöcker Ehrenstrahl for the folio edition of Certamen Equestre published in 1690 d something really important. How could this arrangement be understood? The common interest for the Prince of Transylvania and the King of Sweden was the fight against the Habsburg Emperor and the Catholic League, which had dethroned the Elector Palatine Frederick V (r. 1610–1623), the Protestant ‘Winter King’ of Bohemia.41 The brother of their wives, the Elector of Brandenburg was married to Frederick’s sister, Elisabeth Charlotte of the Palatinate (1597–1660). Through the women these four men had thus all become brothers-in-law: George William of Brandenburg, Fredrick V of the Palatinate, Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden and Gabriel Bethlen, Prince of Transylvania. Considering this we may understand why the gift from Transylvania was shown in connection with the ‘relics’ of Gustavus Adolphus in the Armoury – both were deeply involved in the Protestant issue, and in the end the King was killed by their common enemy, the Catholics. The objects put together reminded of the common struggle in these important matters of 41 Kármán 2013, pp. 1–3. 137 The Ambassadors of Dialogue religion (and of regions!). According to the annotations of the Clergyman Petri in 1650 this was perhaps not a given clue to the colourful Oriental looking ‘sceptre’ and sabre beside the King’s blood stained clothes. Or, on the contrary, was this something evident, needless to comment? One may wonder who was the responsible director of the theatrical arrangement in the Royal Armoury, perhaps designed shortly after the King’s funeral in June 1634. The Councillors of the Realm? The Dowager Queen, Maria Eleonora? For another generation further kinds of respectful thoughts for the gift of Gabriel Bethlen were completely erased. The Recycling of Diplomatic Gifts In 1672 the putschan mace and the sabre were picked out from the Armoury and were used together with the saddle and the headstall by the ‘Violent Turks’ in a horse show called Certamen Equestre, celebrating Charles XI coming of age (Fig. 15).42 Four different groups of riders appeared in fanciful dresses representing different nations led by the young King himself as a Goth dressed in a Classic-Roman-Emperor-outfit. He was followed by Europeans, Poles and Turks (Fig. 16). In this great event there were probably other exotic weapons and horse caparisons, brought to Sweden by different Oriental envoys, which were recycled. One hundred years after Charles XI’s reign, another King was particularly keen on chivalric games and theatre: Gustav III of the Holstein-Gottorp dynasty (r. 1771–1792). He used the Royal Armoury as his own private property store; he might have consumed some of the exotically designed old diplomatic gifts. Still there are some unidentified items of Oriental origin left in the collection of the Swedish Royal Armoury, probably of Ottoman origin; some weapons and richly decorated saddles and horse covers. a deeper contextualizing of this kind of heritage would certainly contribute to a wider perspective on a multi-facetted Swedish and European history and its perpetual dialogue with neighbouring countries of the East. d 42 138 Nordin 2005, p.34. Ann Grönhammar s Diplomatic Gifts for Swedish Sovereigns from Safavid Persia... Bibliography Archives: Kungliga Biblioteket, Engeströmska samlingen, Hs E.S. B.II.1.7 (nr 26), 17th September, 1687. Afhandling med de hit ankomne armeniske köpmän. Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Persica 1. Handlingar rörande Ludvig Fabritius beskickningar 1679–1700. Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Persica 2, 1633–1635. Holsteinska sändebuden Philip Crusius och O. Brügemans skrivelser till svenska regeringen 1633–1635. Riksarkivet, Diplomatica Turcica bihang Tatarica, 1592–1742, 1. Svenska sändebuds brev och depescher, förhandlingar, tatarkhanens brev till Kungl Maj:t 1592–1742. Publications: Ahnlund 1918 Ahnlund Nils, ‘Gustav II Adolfs första preussiska fälttåg och den europeiska krisen 1626’, in: Historisk Tidskrift, 1918, pp. 88–107. Andrén 2003 Nils Andrén, ‘Kylig arkitekt byggde för stort imperium’, in: Svensk Tidskrift, 2003, no. 2, pp. 46–49. Arne 1952 Ture Algot Johnsson Arne, Svenskarna och Österlandet. Stockholm 1952. Artsvi 2014 Bakhchinyan Artsvi, ‘The Activity of Armenian Merchants in International Trade’, in: Regional Routes, Regional Roots? Cross-Border Patterns of Human Mobility in Eurasia. So Yamane, Norihiro Naganawa (eds.). Sapporo 2014, pp. 23–31. Christina 2006 Christina, Brev och skrifter. Marie Louise Renata Rodén (ed.). Stockholm 2006. Deák 2009 Éva Deák, ‘”Princeps non Principissa”: Catherine of Brandenburg, Elected Prince of Transylvania (1629–1630)’, in: The Rule of Women in Early Modern Europe. Anne J. Cruz, Mihoko Suzuki (eds.). Urbana 2009, pp. 80–103. Ekegård 1924 Einar Ekegård, Studier i svensk handelspolitik under den tidigare frihetstiden. Uppsala 1924. Ettlinger 1998 Kaj M. Ettlinger, ‘Aslan Aga – turkisk ambassadör till Sverige eller svenskt sändebud med diplomatiska uppdrag till Turkiet?’, in: Personhistorisk tidskrift, 94 (1998), pp. 3–19. Geijer 1951 Agnes Geijer, Oriental Textiles in Sweden. Copenhagen 1951. Hellner 1990 Brynolf Hellner, Drottning Kristinas rustkammare. Stockholm 1990. 139 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Hildebrand 1918 Sune Hildebrand (ed.), Karl XI:s almanacksanteckningar. Stockholm 1918. Kármán 2013 Gábor Kármán, ‘Gábor Bethlen’s Diplomats at the Protestant Courts of Europe’, in: Hungarian Historical Review, vol. 2, no. 4, 2013, pp. 790–823. Kempe 1762 Johan Kempe, Kongl. Swenska envoijen Ludwich Fabritii lefwerne. Stockholm 1762. Krusenstjern 1972 Benigna von Krusenstjern, Philip Crusius von Krusenstiern (1597–1676). Sein wirken in Livland als Russlandkenner, Diplomat und Landespolitiker. Hausarbeit zur Magisterprüfung. Wiesbaden 1972. Kullberg 1878 Svenska Riksrådets protokoll. Vol. 1 (1621–1629). N.A. Kullberg (ed.). Stockholm 1878. Kullberg 1880 Svenska Riksrådets protokoll. Vol. 2 (1630–1632). N. A. Kullberg (ed.). Stockholm 1880. Nordin 2005 Jonas Nordin, Certamen equestre: Karl XI:s karusell inför samtid och eftervärld. Stockholm 2005. Ogier 1914 Charles Ogier, Från Sveriges storhetstid: franske legationssekreteraren Charles Ogiers dagbok under ambassaden i Sverige 1634–1635. Sigurd Hallberg (ed.). Stockholm 1914. Olearius 1647 Adam Olearius, Offt begehrte Beschreibung der Newen Orientalischen Reise (…). Schleswig 1647. Oxenstierna 1915 Axel Oxenstierna, Rikskansleren Axel Oxenstiernas skrifter och brefvexling 5. Bref 1630. Herman Brulin (ed.). Stockholm 1915. Petri 1837 Jonas Petri, ’Dagbok, förd vid 1650 års Riksdag i Stockholm, af Riksdagsmannen från Mariestads Superintendentia, Dr. Jonas Petri, Pastor i Hasle’, in: Nya handlingar rörande skandinaviens historia, 22, 1837, pp. 60–253. Silfverstolpe, Kudriavtseva and Zagorodniaja 2014 Susanne Silfverstolpe, Angella Kudriavtseva and Irina Zagorodniaja, Silvergåvor från Sveriges regenter till Rysslands tsarer under 1600-talet. Stockholm 2014. Stockholm 2001 Gåvor från Österland. Anne Marie Dahlberg (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Stockholm 2001. Troebst 1993 Stefan Troebst, ‘Narva und der Aussenhandel Persiens im 17. Jahrhundert. Zum merkantilen Hintergrund schwedischer Grossmachtpolitik’, in: Studia baltica stockholmiensia, 11 (1993), pp. 161–178. Westrin 1890 Johan Theodor Westrin, ‘Philip Sadlers beskickning till Siebenbürgen 1626’, in: Historisk Tidskrift, 10, 1890, pp. 169–175. 140 Jarosław Godlewski (The Polish Army Museum in Warsaw) Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the Collection of the Polish Army Museum in Warsaw \ The paper discusses the problem of formal and semi-formal diplomatic gift exchange in the era of elective monarchy in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (1572–1795). Its purpose is to draw attention to certain components of the diplomatic game as expressed in the exchange of gifts – on both the official, semi-official as well as the personal level. We may reasonably wonder about its purpose, but before we focus on the main problem of our subject matter, we must offer a clear picture of the system of government in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and consider its impact on the manner and type of gifts presented. Established in 1569, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was a merging of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania with a combined area of about 1 million square kilometres.1 The two components of the Commonwealth, until then operating on the basis of a personal union, were now to function as a real union. The state thus established was governed by a system of parliamentary monarchy where power was shared between the king and the nobility.2 The result was a change in the livelihood of the nation’s nobles. As demand for agricultural and forestry products increased, the management of land property became a priority over military service. Multiple privileges gained by the nobility between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries lay at the foundation of the new system established by the Union of Lublin. In the 1500s, access to the noble class became restricted in order to prevent wealthy peasants and townsmen from obtaining the unique privileges of nobility. Membership in nobility could now only be inherited or bestowed, at first by the king, and as of 1578 by the Sejm (i.e. the Diet). The principle of equality across 1 Konopczyński 2003, p. 161f. 2 Bardach, Leśnodorski & Pietrzak 1999, p. 177. 141 The Ambassadors of Dialogue the noble class existed only in theory; what was to be a class of equals was soon vastly stratified, rank being determined by the size of the estate. Smaller subclasses emerged, such as the magnates – owners of vast estates, able and willing to bring their less wealthy peers into their sphere of influence. In the early 1500s, nobles who owned at least several villages formed a strong middle tier of their class and occupied offices of local administration. In time, however, wars and loss of property forced them into dependency upon the magnates. The lowest rank of the privileged class, which was also numerous, comprised small farms and landless nobility.3 The role of magnates in the political life of the country’s provinces gradually increased. The south-eastern voivodeships of the Commonwealth were particularly abundant in great magnate estates. Each of the great aristocratic families attracted large groups of middle and petty nobility, some of which remained in their service as courtiers, administrators or officers and companions of house regiments. Others were among poor relatives and neighbours who sought the favour of the powerful. But not all aristocratic families were able to obtain their own political voice. Securing political power required one to assemble a group of supporters strong enough to vote their candidates into parliament at least once. When visiting Poland, foreign diplomats had to understand the complex dynamics between magnate houses, district and voivodeship authorities. Among Poles and Lithuanians themselves, gift-giving, even of small gifts, was done in an effort to maintain friendship, win favour or gain a foothold for future negotiations, either for personal or political purposes. In short, givers had to know to whom to give and with whom to talk to maximize the result of their mission.4 The last Polish king of the House of Jagiellon, King Sigismund II Augustus died in 1572 without leaving a heir, spurring controversy as to the succession to the throne. The situation was used by the Polish and Lithuanian nobility to institute the system of free election, whereby the country’s rulers would be voted in by the noble class. Election rules and procedures were to be set by a Convocation Sejm. The first such Sejm convened in Warsaw. Principles of conducting the session were established, as well as a list of royal candidates and the agenda of the Election Sejm. At future Convocation Sejms, bills would be passed with a majority vote and – most importantly – Convocation Sejms were exempt from the liberum veto principle (the right of each deputy to break a parliamentary session).5 The incompatibility of central administrative and military offices was maintained, as well as separate treasuries, armies, chancelleries and judicial systems. Here we must stop for a brief overview of certain principles ruling the operations of the Commonwealth’s administrative offices and officers. The first and most important, as far as its impact on the state, was the principle of perpetuity.6 Appointment to offices was a royal right and the principle of perpetuity served to limit the king’s power in this area. 142 3 Topolski 2000, pp. 154–156; Tazbir 1998, p. 50. 4 Ibidem, pp. 58–60. 5 Kłeczyński, Nowakowski & Lange 1919, p. 21. 6 Volumina Legum, p. 676. Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth Attempts at weakening its impact included efforts to persuade holders of key positions into voluntary resignation, but these were rarely successful. Success was usually determined by offered remuneration or promotion to another office. Perpetuity of offices was to protect the country from the abuse of royal power and from the kings’ inclination to secure absolute power. The efficiency of diplomatic efforts depended on a diplomat’s understanding of this principle. a public officer who is free to act is much more easily persuaded with a gift, whether official or personal, than one whose actions are restricted by the fear of losing his position. Aware of such possibilities and in order to protect the state’s domestic and foreign policy from the abuse of power by individuals, the principle of incompatibility of public offices was introduced to the Commonwealth. Appropriate legal measures were put in place in the 1500s; the Sejm of 1565 banned the treasurer from holding any of the four highest district offices (a rule which was broken several times). The king’s liberty in appointing state officers was also limited by the medieval principle of indygenat or naturalisation, allowing him to appoint officers from among the citizens of the realm, or those connected to the country or its land and living under the jurisdiction of a given office. The principle of naturalisation banned the king from appointing foreigners to the highest offices in the country. The same principle restricted the access of landowners in the respective provinces to positions in district offices.7 All those restrictive measures were designed to balance the power of the governing bodies and to limit any possible external influence in their decision-making. As in any system, however, its functioning depended on the sense of civic duty and value system upheld by individual clerks, as was evidenced in the excellent attitude and understanding of the workings of the system by society in the late sixteenth century. The situation changed by the late seventeenth century, with the growing involvement of magnates who acted for the good of their own families rather than for the country as a whole. The eighteenth century brought about the total and complete dismantling of the state, with various factions fighting each other for power and influence, giving in to pressure from foreign governments. The nobility and magnates, as well as foreign envoys and diplomats used gift-giving as a tool to exert pressure. Having presented the structure and government of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, we can now move on to our subject matter of diplomatic gift-giving. The general perception is that all gifts presented by diplomats were handed in personally and that most of them were luxury goods. It was not quite as simple as that though. We must remember that official embassies were bound by protocol. Two types of protocol had developed in Europe – East-European protocol was rooted in the Byzantine tradition, whilst West-European ceremonial protocol was based on Italian and papal traditions.8 Polish-Lithuanian diplomacy of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries exhibits components of both types of protocol; in that mixed system, the Commonwealth applied selected elements of both Eastern and Western traditions. Envoys sent on behalf of the king and the state generally operated 7 Konopczyński 2003, p. 351. 8 Nahlik 1971, p. 131; Lorenc 2014, p. 87. 143 The Ambassadors of Dialogue in a manner similar to that of their Western peers, with certain customs derived from the Byzantine model, such as traveling with a large entourage. This was typical and generally approved when missions travelled East, to Muscovy or the Ottoman Empire; in the West, however, envoys were typically accompanied by a more modest retinue. Consequently, Polish-Lithuanian embassies in Western Europe made a powerful impression. a great example of Eastern protocol in Polish diplomacy can be found in Jerzy Ossoliński’s 1633 mission to Rome, where Polish envoys entered Rome in a parade of several hundred men adorned in Eastern splendour. The style of diplomatic service in Poland-Lithuania began to change in the late 1700s, leaning more towards West-European traditions. Although the protocol was that the cost of all missions (both receiving and sending of envoys) was to be borne by the royal treasury, this was done in practice only with regard to visiting foreign missions; the cost of embassies sent on behalf of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was, whenever possible, carried by the envoys. As a consequence, most diplomatic missions were headed by magnates who were able to cover at least some of the expenses out of their own purse.9 The selection of Polish emissaries was based on skill and training rather than pedigree alone. That’s why we often encounter envoys not of noble birth, such as the burghers Stanislaus Hosius (Pol.: Stanisław Hozjusz, 1504–1579) and Marcin Kromer (1512–1589) or the merchant Sefer Muratowicz (d. after 1631). The person and the role of an envoy during that time in history are best described by the Dutch jurist and diplomat, Hugo Grotius (printed in Poland as Hugo Grocjusz, 1583–1645) who was of the explicit opinion in his De jure belli ac pacis (‘On the Law of War and Peace’), that an envoy was sent by the sovereign of a state and as such became the ruler’s alter ego.10 Whereas throughout Western Europe permanent missions had become customary, things were different in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. First and foremost, there were two types of missions – the ordinary and the extraordinary. Extraordinary missions were temporary in nature, sent to deal with one particular issue. The main task of ordinary missions on the other hand, was gathering information. The first Polish school of diplomacy was the royal chancellery. The turning point in the history of Polish diplomatic protocol came in 1585, when King Henry Valois (r. 1573–1574) established the office of ‘introducer of foreign ambassadors and rulers’. In a few words, the reception of an envoy began at the border where, upon entering the country, emissaries were met by a special messenger sent by the king to provide the delegation with all necessary comforts and to make sure that the guests did not engage in espionage. The mission was also given a military escort. When approaching the capital, the emissary would send a prominent member of his retinue to herald the arrival of the mission and to agree on the date and circumstances of its ceremonial entrance to the town. a mission entered the capital city of its host country either on horseback or in coaches. Poland did not have the office of introducer or master 9 10 144 Lorenc 2014, p. 89. Grocjusz 1957, p. 21. Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth of ceremony.11 Instead, two royal dignitaries were sent as the formal escort of the mission. Before an official audience with the king, the envoy briefed the royal chancellor on his instructions. Polish protocol provided for two types of audience, formal (possibly in the presence of the Sejm) and private. Envoys arriving for an audience were met by designated officers in order of rank. After letters of introduction were handed to the chancellor, the envoys kissed the king’s hand and the letters were read. The chancellor replied to the letters and the delegates were shown their seats by the king. If an audience was given in a parliamentary session, the envoy would hand the chancellor three letters, one for each: the King, the Senate and the Sejm. At a private audience, envoys were received more discreetly and a meeting with the King took place behind closed doors. Visits of papal nuncios and Turkish or Tatar envoys were the only ones handled differently. I cannot fully agree with Magdalena Lorenc’s statement that envoys were treated with contempt at the Ottoman court.12 They may have been looked down upon, but experienced Ottoman diplomacy knew better than to antagonise other states. Due to its geographical location, the Ottoman Empire was often forced to manoeuvre and break up alliances which had been made to oppose it. In the 1680s the permitted length of an envoy’s visit within the borders of the PolishLithuanian Commonwealth was limited to twelve weeks and the king lost his right to send and receive diplomatic missions on his own.13 In the era of the Wettins (1697–1763), Polish diplomacy fell into decline and lost much of its influence within the international community. It wasn’t until the reign of Stanisław August (r. 1764–1795) that diplomatic organisation was restored. With time, more and more dynamic actions were undertaken and diplomatic relations renewed.14 I will take the liberty of quoting the definition of a ‘gift’ as suggested by Magdalena Lorenc in her work: ‘A “gift” is understood as a given object, usually of high monetary value, the reception of which entails a commitment. a commitment of the gifted party to the giver involved the performance of a service or a kind of reciprocation of the favour shown. The exchange of gifts was ruled by the principle of reciprocity. Therefore, an object used as a diplomatic gift had a specific international impact involving representatives of two separate states.’15 Here it must be noted that the contemporary diplomatic exchange of gifts does not involve gifts as defined above. Today’s trend in diplomatic gift-giving leans toward token gifts, modest items which do not make the other party feel uncomfortable and allow them to reciprocate without imposing a great expense. There have, of course, been exceptions to the rule, but those are usually considered excessive rather than normal. Magdalena Lorenc’s definition is accurate in that a gift is a token of a contract between two 11 Wójcik 1982, p. 249. 12 Lorenc 2014, p. 88. 13 Wójcik 1982, p. 242. 14 Ibidem, pp. 611–626. 15 Lorenc 2014, p. 81. 145 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Sabre of King Stanisław August from the late eighteenth century d states. Obviously, this applies to situations where a visiting diplomat was to bring about the signing of some kind of agreement. While Magdalena Lorenc allows for only one aspect of diplomatic gift-giving, official missions, such as announcing the enthronement of a new ruler, also took place. Some diplomatic missions were sent to enter into a trade agreement or draw a new trade route – in such cases gifts were given as a clerk’s fee and no contract between states was made. Such gifts may be called informal or semi-formal. Typically, gifts for the ruler or a high-ranking officer of state administration were accompanied by small gifts or keepsakes for lower-ranking personnel, which were to win their favour. Probably the most accurate description of the manner of gift-giving is given by François de Callières in his work De la Maniere de négocier avec les souverains and suggests that gifts should be ‘given skilfully, so that they can be received without risk or impropriety.’16 a gift given to a clerk could affect the outcome of negotiations, but it was never the direct reason for a contract to be made. Another option worth mentioning is sending an unofficial envoy with a gift for a third party. Though they may have certain features of diplomatic gifts, such presents do not precisely match the definition. They remain on the fringes of our set of interest, but must be mentioned as an excellent example of the function of diplomatic and quasi-diplomatic gifts. Of course, we could go into depth analysing the concept of a gift, its subjective and objective value as well as its usefulness and degrees of sophistication. But the purpose of this paper is merely to present artefacts from the collection of the Polish Army Museum which may have been used as gifts in diplomatic exchange. I have mentioned a suggested classification of diplomatic gifts. The categories suggested below are only to give a clear and simple idea of how certain concepts and categories can be organised and understood. The least controversial category of diplomatic gifts are those presented to monarchs. Here, a sabre decorated with Arabic inscriptions and the image of King Stanisław August may serve as an example (Fig. 1). Unfortunately its status as a diplomatic gift for the Polish ruler has been questioned on several levels, and today scholars tend to maintain that it was commissioned by the owner himself. Legend has it that a Turkish envoy presented the sabre to the King as a gift from Sultan Selim III on the occasion of his enthronement 16 146 Callières 1929, p. 37f. Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth Fig. 2. Visible medallion with the image of King Stanisław August and a fragment of text in Arabic on the blade d in 1790. It was this story of the object’s origins that accompanied it to the collection of the Polish Army Museum when it was purchased from the Viennese antique dealer Hans Seitz in 1930. Unfortunately, time has blurred the real story which probably went along the following lines: a new sultan, Selim III, ascends the throne in Istanbul in 1790. The Polish king, who had very carefully restructured Polish foreign policy and diplomatic protocol, decides to use the opportunity to establish diplomatic relations with the new ruler of the Ottoman Empire. At a time of major internal reforms the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was in need of new allies against Russia and Austria. With all that in mind, Stanisław August commissioned a piece to be presented as a gift, as is evidenced by receipts for such sabres and estimates written by appraisers of the jewellers’ guild. Sabres were usually delivered by the court jeweller Jean Martin, a Huguenot who had come to Warsaw from Berlin. The hilts and scabbards were decorated with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, carbuncles, topaz, jaspers, and enamel. The centrepiece of the design was the king’s monogram, his coat-of-arms and portrait located on both sides of the crossbar (here designed by Jan Filip Holzheusser, the royal medallist).17 Typically, such sabres had a steel blade damasked with a gold inscription in Arabic which was treated as nothing more than decoration. They were imported from Asia in large numbers; as we know from receipts they could be purchased in Warsaw for the price of 15 to 26 ducats. The Arabic inscription on the blade of the sabre in the collection of the Polish Army Museum is identical to the one on the blade of a sabre held in the collection of the Royal Łazienki Museum in Warsaw. The king had a whole series of such sabres made to be handed out as gifts to state dignitaries and sovereigns of other countries (Fig. 2). 17 Męclewska 2005. 147 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. The blade of the sword belonging to Jan Zamoyski d The piece in the collection of the Polish Army Museum has a Persian-style blade. a gold-inlaid Arabic inscription on the forte of the blade can be translated: ‘In the name of the Most High God, O Sufficient One! O Healing One, O King of Kings!’. An inscription along the spine: ‘Help from Allah and a speedy victory. So, O Prophet, give this good news to the believers’ (Ayah 13 of the 61st Surah of the Qur’an, The Ranks or Battle Array). The rest of the inscription concerns Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent (r. 1520–1566): ‘The Sultan of All Human Kind; May God increase his greatness.’ The hilt is open and is of Persian style. The thick cross-shaped crossbar is made of steel, with quillons that feature knobs at their tips. In the centre of the crossbar on both sides of the hilt there is an image of King Stanisław August that is studded in silver. The facing of the hilt is of grey aventurine. The pommel, tilted forward, is of gilded brass in the shape of an eagle’s head.18 Even if we reject the notion that the sabre was a gift to Stanisław August, it is still an item which was to function as a diplomatic gift, and one most fitting to Polish-Turkish relations as, aside from furs which were always in demand with the Sultan’s court’s annual tradition of giving away fur-lined kaftans,19 no gift was valued above weaponry. Consequently, Polish diplomats were in the habit of bringing sabres with them as a gift. Just as in Poland the Orient was in fashion and horses, weapons, textiles and horse tack were in demand, so the Turks also had a weakness for weapons, clothing and furs (Fig. 3). Another category of gifts were gifts for administrative officers. Those were either presented as official gifts in compliance with protocol or as semi-formal gifts. The collection of the Polish Army Museum holds the blade of a Persian ceremonial qaddare sword.20 This artefact is one of the pieces of evidence of a trade exchange between Poland and Persia in the early seventeenth century and of the excellent reputation of Persian weaponry not only in India or Ottoman Empire, but also throughout Europe. The sword, purchased for the private collection of a well-known Warsaw collector Antoni Strzałecki (1844–1934), was initially held at the Raudonvaris (i.e. Red Palace) near Kaunas (Pol.: Kowno, today’s Lithuania) of the Radziwiłł princes (which later belonged to the Tyszkiewicz family). It has been part of the Polish Army Museum’s collection since the 1930s. The sword was likely to have been associated with Jan Zamoyski (1542–1605), Chancellor and Grand Hetman of the Crown. The preserved blade is 93 cm long and made of polished steel. On the outer side 148 18 Stefańska 1968. 19 Dziubiński 1997, p. 152. 20 Malbork 2000, p. 48. Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth Fig. 4. Detail of the sword’s blade with the coat-of-arms of Jan Zamoyski d of the flat of the sabre, near the forte, is a protruding slat decorated with etched and studded gold and a floral design. Above, a round cartouche featuring a gilded shield with the coat-of-arms of ‘Jelita’, surrounded with panoply and the letters ‘INZZPHWK’ (possibly the acronym in Polish for ‘Jan of Zamość Zamoyski Lord Grand Hetman of the Crown’). Between the coat-of-arms and the ornate base of the moulding, a delicate Arabic inscription across the blade, probably worn by cleaning, and below the coat-of-arms clearly legible numbers ‘7 .. 94’. On the inner side of the flat of the sabre, along the blade at the forte, a Latin inscription studded in gold: ‘HAEC META LABORUM’ (‘This is the end of toil’) (Fig. 4). Each word is separated from the next with a heavily gilded floral design. The rosettes, which are also part of the design, may have been the manufacturer’s brand. The blade is an authentic piece from late sixteenth century Persia. The coat-of-arms and acronym show that the sabre was made for a specific customer. In what circumstances could Zamoyski have acquired it? Of course, there is a slight possibility that he may have had it imported it for his personal use as a personalised order. But other explanations seem more likely. It may have been a diplomatic gift. Establishing mutual diplomatic relations was in the interest of both the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and Persia. At the end of the sixteenth century and beginning of the seventeenth, the two countries sent official and semi-official diplomatic missions to each other. The envoys most likely carried gifts for their hosts. The artefact in the collection of the Polish Army Museum has all the attributes of a diplomatic gift as defined above. It is ornate, made of materials of the highest quality and with features to make an impression on the most sophisticated recipient. Zamoyski, for whom the gift was destined, was one of the most important personalities in the country in his time. He was the head of the foreign office – he held the office of chancellor and, as hetman, he commanded the army. Who could have been sent as an envoy on such a mission? Armenians are the most obvious candidates, as they had come and settled in Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and became Polonized, though they still maintained relationships with friends and relatives back in Ottoman Empire. They were model material for diplomatic emissaries. The first opportunity for Zamoyski to receive a sabre as a gift came in 1601. Available documents show that the Polish King Sigismund III Vasa (r. 1587– 1632) had sent a diplomatic mission to the Shah of Persia. The envoy was an Armenian merchant called Sefer Muratowicz.21 Originally from the Anatolyan village of Carasach, 21 Dziubiński 1997, pp. 81–82. 149 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 5. Sabre sent by Michał Wiśniowiecki as a gift to his cousin Janusz Antoni Wiśniowiecki in 1713 d Fig. 6. Latin inscription on the blade of the sabre explaining the circumstances under which the sword was gifted d Muratowicz settled in Kamianets-Podilskyi (Pol.: Kamieniec Podolski, today’s Ukraine) in the early 1590s. He is recorded to have visited Lviv (Pol.: Lwów, today’s Ukraine) in 1596 and enlisted as Sigismund III’s court merchant in 1601. As the representative of the Polish King in the Persian Shah’s court, he probably brought back the Shah’s envoys or gifts from the Shah for the Polish King and for state officers of the highest rank. How would the Persians know the Zamoyski coat-of-arms and the acronym of the offices he held? We can almost take it for granted that they were known to Muratowicz who, familiar with the Polish language and customs, was able to instruct the Persian armourer. Another source of the exquisite gift may have been the merchant himself. Jan Zamoyski may have also used Muratowicz’s services. Especially that the magnate was himself interested in trade and the opening of a new route. Merchants and Armenians in particular were interested in securing control of the route and gaining priority treatment in the trade. The new route would run from Persia, via Ottoman Empire, around Kamianets-Podilskyi and through Sharhorod (Pol.: Szarogród, today’s Ukraine) and Zamość – cities which were part of Zamoyski’s estate. If it indeed opened, it would become a source of considerable income for those who were in favour with the Chancellor. The local Armenian merchants knew Zamoyski’s tendency to emphasize the prominence of his lineage; oriental weaponry – in itself a valuable gift – could be procured in Persia and brought to Poland. The gilded ornamentation which follows European standards may have been added by craftsmen in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The ready sabre may have been presented to Zamoyski (Fig. 5). Finally, the last category of diplomatic gifts to discuss in this paper is small keepsakes. In my opinion, this group may include small informal keepsakes sent to state officials by diplomats or private individuals. Their purpose might vary from wishing to make 150 Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth contact, to attempts at gaining support for one’s cause, to winning the favour of or creating a dependency in a person holding office. As Magdalena Lorenc rightly noted, this type of gift-giving ushers in possibilities for corruption. However, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, gifts were perceived in a different light than they are today. What made the difference were customs derived from the court protocol of the Byzantine Empire (and later Muscovy or the Ottoman Empire), the sixteenth century papal court or later, the court of Louis XIV.22 This category may have included a sabre sent by Michał Serwacy Wiśniowiecki (1680–1774) as a gift to his cousin Janusz Antoni Wiśniowiecki (1678–1741) in 1713. The circumstances of the piece’s manufacture are interesting. In the early stages of the Great Northern War of 1700–1720, Michał Serwacy Wiśniowiecki supported King Augustus II the Strong against the House of Sapieha. For his attitude of loyalty towards the House of Wettin, he was appointed Field Hetman and promoted to Grand Hetman of Lithuania after the Hetman Kazimierz Jan Sapieha defected to the Swedes and Stanisław Leszczyński in the Northern War of 1700–1721. He held that office between 1703 and 1707. In 1707, after Augustus II was forced to abdicate, Wiśniowiecki also defected to Leszczyński and when the Swedes were defeated at Poltava (1709), he refused to leave his estate and was taken captive by the Russians. From there, he went into exile. Between 1712 and 1713, Michał Wiśniowiecki stayed at the court of Charles XII in Bender (part of the Ottoman Empire at the time), where the king of Sweden remained after the Swedish were defeated at the battle of Poltava. It was then that Wiśniowiecki sent the sabre to his brother. As a traitor, Michał Wiśniowiecki was in danger of losing his estate. So a sabre sent to his own brother loyal to Augustus II the Strong was to be a reminder of the blood ties binding them. It could not have been seen as a bribe, since it did not present a monetary value to Janusz Antoni Wiśniowiecki, but was rather a symbol.23 One might think that sabres must have been typical gifts exchanged by magnates. But I chose this artefact for the purpose of this paper for one more reason – the inscription it features, made in the nineteenth century: ‘Wincenty Count Krasiński, deputy to the Sejm, to Paweł Biernacki, Deputy of 1818’. With this second inscription, the sabre becomes a symbolic gift to a state dignitary (Fig. 6). The total length of the sabre is 97.5 cm. Below the crossbar, the forte bears the ‘Korybut’ coat-of-arms of the House of Wiśniowiecki, inlaid with gold. The shield is topped with a coronet and appears on the backdrop of ermine-lined mantling. On the blade, below the coat-of-arms, a Latin inscription inlaid with gold and decorated with a floral ornament runs in two lines along the spine of the sabre all the way to the martle. The text of the inscription can be translated as: ‘In memory of the time spent in Turkey with His Majesty Charles, undefeated King of Sweden, Michał Wiśniowiecki, Hetman by appointment of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, presents this gift to his brother Prince Voivode of Krakow, this day, the 10th of January, 1713’. The sabre has an open Balkan-style hilt with a prominent cross-shaped crossbar, 22 Lorenc 2014, p. 91. 23 Romaniuk 2010, p. 76f. 151 The Ambassadors of Dialogue featuring designs imitating the Oriental style and is decorated with pearls. The artefact was purchased for the collection of the Polish Army Museum from Antoni Strzałecki in 1920. The described artefacts allow us to distinguish three categories of gifts. First, the category of official diplomatic gifts with a perfectly fitting definition. Second, official and semi-official gifts given by envoys to state officials. Here the principle of reciprocity is limited, although the acceptance of a gift from this category may entail some benefits for the giver. And finally, quasi-diplomatic gifts which, though they seem to be gifts, are merely keepsakes. In this case, reciprocity and contractual agreements are only hypothetical, though a small gift usually signifies the giver’s desire to gain some kind of benefits. The giver usually expects support for his cause or the receiver’s favour. I suggest that the three above-discussed artefacts from the collection of the Polish Army Museum be included in the general category of diplomatic gifts, though each might belong to a different subcategory. The above-quoted definition applies to each of those artefacts, though to various degrees. Urszula Idziak suggests a different perspective which must also be taken into consideration. In her opinion, reciprocity contradicts the idea of a gift.24 Following her line of thought, only the King’s sabre qualifies as a gift. The other two objects were merely investments in future profit. Urszula Idziak’s perspective is typical of today’s society where Jan Zamoyski’s Persian sword and Janusz Antoni Wiśniowiecki’s sabre would be considered a bribery attempt or an attempt to corrupt state officials. However, three centuries ago such actions were part of a ritual or cultural norm based on the current social and cultural standards. In her article, Magdalena Lorenc quotes Marcel Mauss’s work, The Gift,25 analysing the key propositions presented in his book. I must agree with her statement that official gifts were presented publicly and their primary purpose was to please the recipient. The three underlying principles were to ‘give, receive and reciprocate’. Disregard for one of those cultural obligations resulted in the ‘loss of face’ (good name), honour and one’s social position.26 Receiving a gift was an act of completion, the proverbial cherry on the cake of a diplomatic mission. Here also, Stanisław August’s sultanic sabre is the only one of the three to qualify as a true gift. By accepting it, the king agreed to establish diplomatic relations with the new sultan of the Ottoman Empire and paved the way for later diplomatic missions. The remaining two gifts, as semi-formal or personal presents were, according to Mauss, purely economic investments.27 As has been demonstrated, depending on whether it is considered by a sociologist, anthropologist or historian and museum custodian, the concept of a gift may carry vastly different implications. In my opinion, all three artefacts are included in the set of diplomatic gifts, since their impact – apart from the above-mentioned effect – was not merely local, but international. 152 24 Idziak 2009, p. 38. 25 Originally printed as ‘Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l’échange dans les sociétés archaïques’, in: L’Année Sociologique (1925). 26 Lorenc 2014, p. 97; Mauss 1973, p. 323. 27 Ibidem, p. 212. Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth The presented artefacts from the collection of the Polish Army Museum were originally gifts of diplomatic exchange. This paper is by no means exhaustive of the problem, but may become the seed of a more extensive work on diplomatic gifts in the collections of Polish museums. It would be a valuable work based on research covering all artefacts bearing characteristics of diplomatic gifts. The comprehensive research involved would have to include questions posed by museum science, history, sociology, and perhaps anthropology, thus presenting a complete view of the issue. Such a publication would also offer scholars and other individuals an opportunity to gain a thorough account of the issue from the perspective of exhibition production, and a picture of its general historical context and symbolic significance. d 153 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Bardach, Leśnodorski & Pietrzak 1999 Juliusz Bardach, Bogusław Leśnodorski, Michał Pietrzak, Historia Ustroju i Prawa Polskiego. Warszawa 1999. Callières 1929 François de Callières, Sztuka dyplomacji. Warszawa 1929. Dziubiński 1997 Andrzej Dziubiński, Na szlakach Orientu. Handel między polską a imperium osmańskim w XVI– XVIII wieku. Wrocław 1997. Grocjusz 1957 Hugo Grocjusz, O prawie wojny i pokoju trzy księgi. Warszawa 1957. Idziak 2009 Urszula Idziak, Dar. Spór między Jeanem-Lukiem Marionem a Jacques’em Derridą. Kraków 2009. Kłeczyński, Nowakowski & Lange 1919 Sejm: wydanie pamiątkowe ilustrowane w 2 częściach. Jan Kłeczyński, Jan Nowakowski, Antoni Lange (eds.). 1919. Konopczyński 2003 Władysław Konopczyński, Dzieje Polski Nowożytnej. Warszawa 2003. Lorenc 2014 Magdalena Lorenc, ‘Do ut des, czyli rzecz o darze w dyplomacji. Przypadek siodła z daru sułtana Mustafy II dla posła Stanisława Małachowskiego z 1699 roku’ in: Środkowoeuropejskie studia polityczne, vol. 4. Poznań 2014. Malbork 2000 Oręż perski i indoperski XVI–XIX wieku ze zbiorów polskich. Exhib. Cat., Antoni Romuald Chodyński (ed.). Malbork 2000. Mauss 1973 Marcel Mauss, Socjologia i Antropologia. Warszawa 1973. Męclewska 2005 Marta Męclewska, ‘Prawda i legenda o medalierskiej serii królów polskich z czasów Stanisława Augusta’, in: Kronika Zamkowa, vol. 1-2/49-50, 2005, pp. 29–43. Nahlik 1971 Stanisław Edward Nahlik, Narodziny nowoczesnej dyplomacji. Wrocław 1971. Romaniuk 2010 Przemysław Romaniuk, ‘Ilias Polski księcia Janusza Antoniego Wiśniowieckiego, czyli Kroniczka Litewska i pamiętniki Ignacego Olszowskiego’ in: Kwartalnik Historyczny, vol. CXVII, 3, 2010. Stefańska 1968 Zofia Stefańska, Katalog zbiorów wiek XVIII. Muzeum Wojska Polskiego w Warszawie. Warszawa 1968. 154 Jarosław Godlewski s Diplomatic Gifts from the Era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth Tazbir 1998 Janusz Tazbir, Kultura szlachecka w Polsce. Poznań 1998. Topolski 2000 Jerzy Topolski, Przełom gospodarczy w Polsce XVI wieku i jego następstwa. Poznań 2000. Volumina Legum Volumina Legum. Prawa, konstytucye y przywileie Królestwa Polskiego, Wielkiego Xięstwa Litewskiego y wszystkich prowincyi należących na walnych seymiech koronnych od Seymu Wiślickiego roku pańskiego 1347 aż do ostatniego Seymu uchwalone, vol. II. Poznań 1859. Wójcik 1982 Historia dyplomacji polskiej. Zbigniew Wójcik (ed.), vol. II. Warszawa 1982. 155 Rainald Franz (Museum für angewandte Kunst / Gegenwartskunst in Vienna) Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift \ In early Europe, porcelain was the perfect diplomatic gift – that is, a gift whose purpose was to cement international relations. Made only in China, it was exotic and hard to acquire. It was also beautiful, fragile and expensive and could be used for table decoration, as a precious piece for cabinets of curiosities (Wunderkammer) or to embellish whole rooms dedicated to the luxury good.1 ‘Porcelain diplomacy’, as we might call it, began early. Porcelain was first produced in Asia in the eighth century. The ‘Fonthill’ vase, nowadays in the National Museum of Ireland, is the first documented example of Chinese porcelain in Europe, and in 1382, the King of Hungary, Louis the Great (r. 1342-1382), presented it to Charles III of Durazzo on his ascent to the throne of Naples (r. 1382-1386). The vase had apparently been in Europe since about 1300. The king of Hungary had received the piece as a gift from an embassy of Nestorian Christians from China.2 In 1487, the Sultan of Egypt sent Lorenzo the Magnificent of Florence ‘large vessels of porcelain’. By the sixteenth century, a small number of Chinese pieces had entered royal collections in Europe, and gifts of porcelain began to be exchanged between royal houses. Henry VIII of England purportedly received three pieces of porcelain on his coronation in 1509, and Queen Elizabeth is believed to have presented a Wanli period blue and white bowl with silver gilt mounts to her godchild. In 1590, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Ferdinando I de’ Medici (1549–1609), had included sixteen pieces of Ming porcelain as part of a larger presentation to the Saxon elector Christian I of Saxony (r. 1586–1591) in Dresden.3 1 Cassidy-Geiger and Bencard 2007. 2 Arnold 1999, p. 133ff.; Washington 1991, p. 131. 3 Cassidy-Geiger and Bencard 2007, p. 3f. 157 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Chinese Porcelain comes to Europe By the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century, the Portuguese had discovered sea routes first to India, then Malacca in Malaysia and finally to China. Their domination of the China trade, however, was short-lived. By the middle of the seventeenth century, the Netherlands and England had wrestled many of the trading centres from Portugal and had become the major suppliers of porcelain to Europe.4 In 1686, the embassy of Siam arrived at Versailles with a gift of 1500 pieces of Chinese porcelain for Louis XIV. Porcelain remained an expensive luxury, and was primarily obtained for royal and aristocratic collections and for use as diplomatic and political gifts. Palace rooms were designed to display these collections, the Porcelain Cabinets. Most sought after were the blue-and-white pieces known as ‘kraak’ porcelain, the term derived from the Dutch name for caracca, the Portuguese merchant ship. Characteristic features of kraak dishes were decoration divided into panels on the wide border and a central stylized landscape or scene. Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland (r. 1697–1733), possessed the best-known and most extensive collection of Chinese and Japanese porcelain in Europe in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. We know that his collection numbered 20,000 pieces of Japanese and Chinese porcelain in 1727, which were displayed in his Holländisches Palais [Dutch Palace], which later became the Japanisches Palais [Japanese Palace]. His passion led him to become one of the most influential figures in the development of European hard-paste porcelain. Until the eighteenth century, Asian porcelain was a princely collector’s item, valued as much for its rarity and exoticism as for its pure whiteness and translucency.5 Meissen and European Porcelain Europeans, in response to these Chinese imports, attempted to make their own hard-paste porcelain, but it was not until 1709 in Dresden, with the prodding of Augustus, that Ehrenfried Walther von Tschirnhausen (1651–1708) and Johann Friedrich Böttger (1682–1719) produced the first true hard-paste porcelain in Europe. Two years later, in 1711, Augustus opened the royal porcelain manufacture at Meissen.6 This was the first of six major factories – Vienna, Frankenthal, Nymphenburg, Berlin, Hoechst – established by the 1750s with the help of Electors or rulers of the German provinces of the Holy Roman Empire. a bevy of lesser German princes sponsored smaller but by no means unimportant factories. The Meissen manufactory had the advantage of being the first to produce quality hard-paste porcelain and its products were in great demand by European and Russian aristocracy and royalty during the first half of the eighteenth century. 158 4 McEleny 2006. 5 Cassidy-Geiger and Bencard 2007, pp. 3–23. 6 Walcha 1981; Wittwer 2004. Franz Rainald s Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift Fig. 1. Tureen from the Trivulzio service, around 1735. Vienna Porcelain manufacture Du Paquier. Made for Antonio Tolomeo de Galli Trivulzio, Count of Musocco, MAK Inv. No. Ke 7903, Copyright MAK d Meissen porcelain began to function as a diplomatic gift by the mid-1720s, when a number of porcelain pieces from the king’s own collection were sent to the king of Sardinia in 1725. Diplomatic gifts were sent to all the important courts in Europe, to Catherine the Great of Russia (r. 1762–1796) as well as to Naples on the occasion of the marriage in 1738 of Maria Amalia, Princess of Saxony (1724–1760), and Charles VII, King of the Two Sicilies (r. 1743–1759), who later became King of Spain, as Charles III (r. 1759–1788).7 Many diplomatic gifts led to the foundation of new porcelain manufactories in places such as St. Petersburg (1744) and Capodimonte in Naples (1745). Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift The Royal Vienna manufactory was the second factory in Europe to produce hard-paste porcelain. It was founded with the help of eloped porcelain arcanists and masters from Meissen by Claudius Innocentius du Paquier in 1718, who had received an imperial privilege to produce porcelain (Fig. 1).8 Early Viennese Porcelain took up the forms and colours of Asian Porcelain and early Meissen Porcelain. The manufactory came under royal patronage in 1744. Already in the early years, Viennese porcelain served as a diplomatic gift in the exchange between the reigning monarchs and princes. Very quickly a standardized 7 http://www.marryingcultures.eu/item-of-interest/meissen-porcelain-diplomatic-gift (accessed July 2015). 8 Lehner-Jobst 2009, p. 142f. 159 The Ambassadors of Dialogue repertoire of gifts was developed, including table services, garnitures of vases, altar garnitures, toilette services, and the ever-popular tea, coffee, and chocolate services. Most often, painted coats of arms were used as decoration, as on the vases and the parts of the table service. Conceived as showpieces rather than functional objects intended for daily use, such services were sent in customized leather boxes with velvet interiors trimmed in silver or gold braid. With the outbreak of the Seven Years’ War in 1756, the Meissen manufactory slowly ceded its dominant role to its French competitor, the royal manufactory at Sèvres. During the war, however, when the Meissen manufactory was occupied for a time by Frederick the Great, he continued the diplomatic gift tradition by presenting his ministers and his mother with gifts of Meissen porcelain.9 Viennese Gifts to the Ottoman Empire After the victories of Prince Eugene of Savoy (1663–1736) over the Turks in the battles of Peterwardein (1716) and Belgrade (1717), the peace treaty of Passarowitz in 1718 paved the way for a new period of diplomatic relations between the Emperor Charles VI (r. 1711– 1740) and the Ottoman Empire and the Sultan. The peace treaty and the negotiations fell in place with the foundation of the Vienna Porcelain manufactory and the exchange of the ambassadors – Damian Hugo Count Virmont (1666–1722) in Istanbul (1719) and Ibrahim Pasha in Vienna (1723) – and diplomatic gifts of high value led to the production of Viennese porcelain designed for the Ottoman taste.10 Information about the pieces sent to Istanbul are scarce, but we know about washing basins and ewers with spouts followed the habits of the Ottoman court and took up motives of Islamic porcelain decoration, preventing the use of figures. The porcelain pieces surviving in the collection of the Topkapi Museum in Istanbul seem to be the remains of the big porcelain set Charles VI commissioned for the Ottoman Empire in the 1730s. The ewers with spout were used for water and rosewater. Serving plates in porcelain bear ornaments derived from Islamic flower ornaments intermingled with lap and scrollwork. The pieces reflect the clear tendency to adopt motives of the alien ornament in order to follow the local style.11 The Service for Empress Anna Ivanovna. A Diplomatic Gift for Russia After the death of Russian tsar Peter the Great in 1725, diplomatic relations were intensified between Austria and Russia, forming an alliance, with Saxony, against France and the Ottoman Empire. In 1736–1740 this manufacture made a dinner service, which the Emperor 9 160 Wittwer 2007, pp. 87–109. 10 Rückert 1995, pp. 3-94; Zelleke 2009, pp. 924–1029. 11 Ibidem, pp. 942–947. Franz Rainald s Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift Charles VI gave to the Russian Empress Anna Ivanovna (r. 1730–1740), who had taken the crown in 1730. Documents make clear that in 1735 porcelain from Austria for 4,000 talers had been sent to Russia.12 The porcelain sets comprised turreens with figures of Turks and the crest of the Russian Tsar on it with relief flowers, wine coolers and beakers with lap and scrollwork and naturalistic flowers as well as sugar pots. Very delicate masterpieces with porcelain gems on it are the serving plates, which make part of the service. They also show gilt bronze mountings on it. Another luxury item in Viennese porcelain for the Russian court was the perfume set, nowadays kept in the Bavarian National Museum (Bayerisches Nationalmuseum). a spectacular table-set with an elephant, dancers and a silver mounting was also made for export and as a gift for the Russian Court. Many pieces are still in the State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg in Russia, whilst others have come onto the market. The Russian Empress Anna Ivanovna and Charles VI died in the same year, 1740.13 French Collectors of Du Pacquier Porcelain In August 1725, Louis Francois Armand de Vignerot du Plessis, Duke of Richelieu (1696– 1788), came to Vienna to become the French ambassador in Vienna. In 1727, he made his first official visit to Emperor Charles VI at the Favorita palace. Being a man of taste, the Duke of Richelieu also started to collect Viennese porcelain. He preferred pieces in Asian style bearing his crest, crafted in the years 1725–1728. He was also in possession of a gigantic clock with Chinese figures on it.14 The Duke of Wellington Service Nearly one century later, porcelain still served as diplomatic currency. Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington (1769–1852) was the proud recipient of Meissen, Sèvres, Berlin, and Vienna dinner services in recognition of his victory over Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815. The gifts were from Frederick Augustus I of Saxony (r. 1806–1827), Louis XVIII of France (r. 1795–1814), Frederick William III of Prussia (r. 1797–1840), and Francis I of Austria (r. 1804–1835) respectively. The Duke, until his death in 1852, employed these services and a 1,000-piece Portuguese silver service when he held his sumptuous annual banquet, usually at his residence Apsley House, for his officers and compatriots. Selected members of the public were admitted to see the banquet setup and spectators thronged the streets as guests arrived.15 12 Rückert 1994, p. 22. 13 Zelleke 2009, pp. 964–967. 14 Ibidem, pp. 972–979. 15 Franz 2015, pp. 232-239; Mrazek 1965, pp. 22–24. 161 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Diplomacy Continues The tradition of gift-giving between heads of state persists to this day and continues to be an important diplomatic and political tool. Porcelain items are still regarded as very desirable. Gift-giving is a way of establishing and strengthening social ties and relationships. The gift may also reflect the giver’s taste, discernment and social status. Royal or governmental gifts are a tangible sign of wealth and power and, when publicly displayed in opulent surroundings, are intended to impress foreign dignitaries and one’s own countrymen. Finally, the recipient, by accepting gifts, tacitly accepts the political messages and agreements that implicitly accompany them. d 162 Franz Rainald s Viennese Porcelain as a Diplomatic Gift Bibliography Arnold 1999 Lauren Arnold, Princely Gifts and Papal Treasures: the Franciscan Mission to China and its Influence on the Arts of the West. Desiderata Press 1999. Cassidy-Geiger and Bencard 2007 Maureen Cassidy-Geiger, Mogens Bencard (eds.), Fragile Diplomacy. Meissen Porcelain for European Courts ca. 1710-63, The Bard Graduate Center for Studies in the Decorative Arts, Design and Culture. New York 2007. Chilton, Lehner-Jobst, Hantschmann et al. 2009 Meredith Chilton, Claudia Lehner-Jobst, Katharina Hantschmann, et al. (eds.), Fired by Passion. Barockes Wiener Porzellan der Manufaktur Claudius Innocentius Du Paquier. Stuttgart 2009. Franz 2015 Rainald Franz, ‘Porzellan, Keramik und Glas in Wien zur Zeit des Kongresses’, in: Europa in Wien. Der Wiener Kongress 1814/15, Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, Werner Telesko (eds.). Vienna – Munich 2015, pp. 232–239. Lehner-Jobst 2009 Claudia Lehner-Jobst, ‘Claudius Innocentius Du Paquier und die Geschichte der ersten Wiener Porzellanmanufaktur’, in: Chilton, Lehner-Jobst, Hantschmann et al. 2009, pp. 142–217. McEleny 2006 Brian McEleny, Chinese Ceramics and the Maritime Trade Pre-1700. The Museum of East Asian Art. Bath 2006. Mrazek 1965 Wilhelm Mrazek, ‘Das große Service für den Herzog von Wellington aus der Wiener Porzellanmanufaktur‘, in: Alte und Moderne Kunst, X (1965), pp. 22–24. Rückert 1994 Rainer Rückert, ‘Der “Catalogus“ der Wiener Porcellaine-Lotterie des Jahres 1735: Dokumente zur Wiener Porzellangeschichte unter Meissener Archivalien’, in: Keramos, 145 (1994), pp. 11–65. Rückert 1995 Rainer Rückert, ‘Wiener und Meissener Porzellangeschirr des 18. Jahrhunderts “alla Turca”’, in: Keramos, 147 (1995), pp. 3–94. Walcha 1981 Otto Walcha, Meissen Porcelain. Dresden, New York 1981. Washington 1991 Circa 1492. Art in the Age of Exploration. Jay A. Levenson (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Catalogue of an exhibition held at the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. 1991–1992. New Haven – London 1991. Wittwer 2004 Samuel Wittwer, Die Galerie der Meissner Tiere. Die Menagerie Augusts des Starken für das Japanische Palais in Dresden. München 2004. 163 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Wittwer 2007 Samuel Wittwer, ‘Liaisons Fragiles: Exchange of Gifts Between Saxony and Prussia in the Early Eighteenth Century’, in: Cassidy-Geiger and Bencard 2007, pp. 87–109. Zelleke 2009 Ghenete Zelleke, ‘Geschenke, Diplomatie und Handel: Du-Paquier-Porzellan außerhalb des Habsburgerreiches’, in: Chilton, Lehner-Jobst, Hantschmann et al. 2009, pp. 924–1029. 164 Maria José Tavares (Palácio Nacional da Ajuda, Lisbon) A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room in the Palácio da Ajuda \ First Contact The earliest mention of Japan in European historical sources is found in Marco Polo’s accounts in Book of the Marvels of the World (Fr.: Livre des Merveilles du Monde, It.: Il Milione) by Rustichello da Pisa, written at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In 1514, the first Portuguese ambassador to China, Tomé Pires (ca. 1465–1540), also mentioned the country in his work Suma Oriental que trata do Mar Roxo até aos Chins (1515). According to the Japanese chronicle Teppo-ki by Oshiyō Nanbo Bunshī1 (Jap.: 和 尚 南浦文之) Portuguese traders were the first Europeans to step on Japanese soil, in 1543, during the Sengoku period (Sengoku jidai, also called the Warring States Period, ca. 1467– 1573). In a time of political anarchy and successive wars, the Portuguese presence, and their trade, had a crucial impact on Japan’s fate. The use of firearms provided by the Portuguese was decisive for the victory of the Oda armies, the unification of Japan and the establishment of the Tokugawa shogun dynasty that would last for nearly two hundred and sixty years (1603–1867). Japanese goods brought back to Europe in Portuguese ships quickly sparked interest among European elites. Lacquer and porcelain objects of unparalleled beauty and perfection were the most sought after, attaining extravagant prices (Fig. 1). It was aboard Portuguese merchant ships that the Jesuits made their way to Japan for the first time. With them, these missionaries brought not just a religious message, but the basis of European scientific thinking: mathematics, physics, astronomy, engineering, as well as several artistic methods such as oil painting, graphical perspective and architecture, which were thus introduced for the first time to Japanese culture. 1 Cf. Santos 2011, p. 47. 165 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Namban Screen (detail), Namban Art, Kano School, 1593 – 1601. National Museum of Ancient Art, Portugal (Photo by Luisa Oliveira, José Paulo Ruas © MNAA/DGPC) d The wish to acquire new knowledge by the Japanese aristocracy (daimyo) and the Jesuits’ control of the Chinese silk imported aboard the Portuguese ships, boosted the acceptance of Christian faith and accelerated the conversion of a small part of the population, including some feudal lords. In 1582, the first Japanese delegation was dispatched to Europe. The group consisted of young Christian missionaries from the highest Japanese social strata. It was arranged by the Jesuit priest Alexandro Valignano (1539–1606), with the dual goal of bringing Japan to Europe, and, on their return, Europe to Japan. Members of the delegation visited Portugal and Spain (at the time both under King Philip II) and Rome, where they paid homage to Pope Gregory XIII. On their return to Japan, the missionaries brought back several gifts from the West, including a typography machine. Until the 1600s, Iberian merchants were the only ones to trade with Japan. However, from that date onwards competition from Dutch merchants, who took an interest purely in the commercial opportunity and not on religious matters, gradually left the Portuguese and the Jesuits behind. Political and religious disputes, stemming in part from the excess of authority and the concentration of foreign commerce in the hands of the Jesuits, in direct opposition to the centralizing policies of the Tokugawa regime, led to the ruthless persecution of Christians (both European and Japanese) and the definitive expulsion of all Portuguese and Jesuits from Japan in 1639. As a direct consequence of these events, relations between the two countries were severed and this remained so for a further two centuries. To achieve peace and stability within the country, which it successfully did during the 264 years of the Tokugawa shogunate, Japan reinforced isolationist policies and a tight 166 Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... control over external relations. Trading with the West was officially handed to the Dutch, the only Europeans authorized to land on Japanese soil, confined to the small artificial island of Dejima. Commercial and diplomatic relations between Japan and Western countries were henceforth confined to that small commercial outpost. Centralization and isolation imposed by the Tokugawa shogunate did in fact make possible a lasting internal peace, in which creativity and artistic production flourished. During the Edo Period (1603–1868), about five ships owned by the Dutch East India Company arrived in Europe each year carrying rare and valuable Japanese items, namely silks, ceramics and lacquers. Despite the success of these objects and their influence in European decorative art, Japanese isolationism created in Europe a romanticized and distant image of the country itself. Two-and-a-Half Centuries Later, Japan’s Opening Up to the World ‘[...] The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed, The ring is circled, the journey is done, The box-lid is but perceptibly open’d – nevertheless, the perfume pours copiously out of the whole box. [...]’ Walt Whitman, The Errand-Bearers (excerpt)2 In 1853 Commodore Matthew C. Perry (1794–1858) sailed into a harbour near Tokyo and presented a letter from the American president Millard Fillmore demanding that Japan open itself up to trade with the United States. In part due to China’s defeat at the hands of the British during the First Opium War (1839–1842), the Japanese heeded, after long deliberation, to the American demands, agreeing to open some of its ports to U.S. ships. The Kanagawa treaty between the two countries was signed in 1854. This was the first of several treaties signed between Japan and other European powers, such as Great-Britain, Russia, Netherlands, France and lastly Portugal. As a matter of fact, Portugal didn’t have the imperialist ambitions of the other western countries. The intention was to ensure its presence in the Far East, namely in Macao and Timor.3 The Peace, Friendship and Commerce Treaty was signed by the two countries on 3rd of August 1860 (Fig. 2). 2 Whitman 1860. Excerpt from ‘The Errand-Bearers’ published in the New York Times on 27th of June, 1860 when the Japanese special mission arrived in New York. 3 Mendes 2010, n. 18. 167 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 2. Peace, Friendship and Commerce Treaty signed by Portugal and Japan in 1860. MNE AHD, CX Tratados Portugal-Japão d This treaty, similar to previous ones signed with other European countries, guaranteed, among others, commercial access to the main harbours, access to the country’s main raw materials, the open circulation of European industrial products, extraterritorial jurisdiction. Following the so-called ‘unequal treaties’ imposed on Japan, several Japanese delegations were sent to the United States and Europe. These delegations, in charge of the ratification of the treaties and to postpone the opening of some Japanese ports, were also reconnaissance trips, encouraged by Western countries as a way of making Japan more receptive to foreign trade.4 Headed by Takenouchi Yasunori, three interpreters and a committee of thirty people, the Japanese delegation arrived in Europe in 1862 to visit the countries commercially engaged with Japan. At that time, Europeans were very ignorant of Japanese culture and customs and regarded Japan as an outlying enigmatic and exotic country (Fig. 3). For this reason, the 4 168 Cobbing 1998. Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... Fig. 3. Japanese delegation visiting the Netherlands in 1862 (from left to right: Matsudaira Yasunao, Shibata Sadataro and Takeuchi Yasunoro). Koninklijke Bibliotheek, the Netherlands d Japanese ‘errand-bearers’ were the subject of news coverage, thousands of comments, exalted expectations and some inevitable disappointment.5 ‘An absence may have consequences as notable as a presence, and for Europe and America during the years of Japanese seclusion the absences vis-á-vis Japan were many.’6 In fact, Japan’s long-lasting seclusion and its sudden opening, personified in the members of the Japanese delegations to the West, had a great impact at all levels of European society. In the arts, the ‘Japanese scent’ was initially felt in the decorative arts and it soon spread to other areas, such as architecture, interior design, theatre, painting, literature, music, and landscaping. In Japan, once isolation had been broken, the Tokugawa Shogunate could no longer retain control. In 1868, the Meiji Emperor was restored to power, putting an end to the Edo Period and giving rise to the Meiji period. 5 Erwick 2004. 6 Ibidem. 169 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Diplomatic Gifts from Japan in the Palácio Nacional da Ajuda Mutuality In 1860, when the two countries celebrated the ‘Treaty of Peace, Friendship and Commerce’, a Portuguese delegation was received by a representative of the Japanese Emperor. a dispatch sent to the Secretary of Maritime and Naval Affairs by the plenipotentiary minister in Macao, describes how no presents would be brought to the Emperor of Japan, but stresses the importance of doing so for the subordinate authorities.7 In a later dispatch, sent after the signing of the treaty in the court of Yedo, the same minister doesn’t mention any gift from the Japanese government to the Portuguese king. He does, however, state that all those in attendance at the ceremony had received gifts.8 Although we have no information about the nature of these donations, we understand that there was reciprocity and different levels of diplomacy in the exchange of gifts. In 1861, another dispatch, this time from the State Secretary of Foreign Affairs in Lisbon to the Plenipotentiary Minister and Governor of Macao,9 mentions the shipment of a collection of Portuguese coins by the king of Portugal Dom Pedro V (r. 1853–1861) to Japan, in exchange for a collection received from the Japanese government the year before. This exchange of gifts on an equal footing, benefiting both parties, is again indicative of a degree of mutualism between the two governments. Upholding the treaty was important for Portugal since it assured its presence in East Asia, on the other hand, Japan profited from Portugal’s support by delaying the opening up of more harbours. This Japanese coin collection was later incorporated in King Dom Luís’ I (r. 1861–1889) numismatic collection which is now in the Casa da Moeda Museum in Lisbon. Impression Although we lack written documents about the origin of the two Japanese Samurai Armours kept in the Ajuda Palace,10 some reasons make us believe they were diplomatic gifts from the Japanese government to the King of Portugal in the middle of the nineteenth century. 7 Mendes 2010, p. 381. 8 Ibidem, p. 385. 9 10 170 Arquivo Histórico Diplomático, MNE/AHD/PT 3P-A19-M.30. Em anexo. Palácio da Ajuda (hereafter: PNA), inv. no. 66577. Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... ‘Arms and armours feature largely as gifts in Japan, because of their central importance in Japanese culture. When Japan came in contact with foreign powers, it was natural for armours and swords to be given as diplomatic gifts.’11 In fact, Queen Victoria (r. 1837–1901) and Emperor Napoleon III (r. 1852–1871) were offered suits of armour by the Taikun of Japan following the rectification of their countries’ treaties in the early 1860s. One of these can be found today in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.12 Both armours kept in the storage of this palace are typical nineteenth-century pieces. The first seems to have been a full suit of armour (gusoku), made up of 23 elements, of which 21 still exist. The cuirass (dō) with a signature inside on stenciled leather seems to be a good quality piece. It is a fine example of the late Edo period which represents the type of ceremonial armour and military equipment that was produced under the nationalistic revival of the early nineteenth century. It is made of lacquered leather and iron plates, sewn together with leather thongs horizontally, and silk cords vertically. The signature is by Matajiro Shigeaki Otaka (1821-1864).13 He was a Samurai and a traditional armour production specialist who studied European gunnery. He was killed in Kyoto by Shinsengumi in 1864. This armour was probably a diplomatic gift in the late Edo period, after the ratification of the treaty. The second armour comprises basic elements (rokugu) which are only six in number plus the armour chest (gusoku-bitsu). This model is lower in quality but the cuirass (dō) and thigh guards (haidate) are fine pieces (Fig. 4).14 If the intention of the Japanese was to impress with these gifts they most surely did. For the kings of Portugal, who didn’t know much about Japan, it was probably an eye-opener. Expectation ‘Os japonezes estiveram hontem no teatro de S. Carlos, onde foram objecto das atenções dos diletante e de mil extravagantes comentários. Foram também hontem recebidos no paço.’15 11 Richardson 2013. 12 Victoria & Albert Museum inv. nos. 362 to R-1865. 13 Translation and identification of the author by Doctor Koji Kobayashi of the National Research Institute for Cultural Properties Tokyo and Mr. Kosuke Goto. 14 Information sent by Doctor Balazs Lencz, Deputy Head of Conservation at the Hungarian National Museum, email on March 1st, 2015. 15 ‘The Japanese were yesterday at the S. Carlos Theatre, where they were the focus of all the attention from the diletante and the subject of a thousand comments. They were also received in the Palace’, in: a Revolução de Setembro, October 21, 1862, p. 2, c. 2. Translation by the Author. 171 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. Japanese armour helmet (kabuto), PNA inv. 66577 d It was certainly in an atmosphere of curiosity and expectation that the Portuguese king and queen, Dom Luís and Dona Maria Pia of Savoy,16 received the Japanese special mission, on 19th of October, 1862 at the Royal Palace of Ajuda in Lisbon. The newspaper Revolução de Setembro reports that the delegation visited the São Carlos Theatre in Lisbon. The Diário de Lisboa17 describes the official meeting in detail. The message brought by the Japanese was clear: to ratify the ‘Treaty of Peace, Friendship and Commerce’ signed two years before. On this occasion, the king of Portugal and the Council of State received from Japan, via Macao, several diplomatic gifts listed in a letter from Edward Clark, the Portuguese Consul in Kanagawa (Fig. 5): ‘To his Majesty, the King of Portugal 2 ornamentally worked swords 1 saddle and harness 10 paintings 10 screens 1 book case 1 paper box and inkstand 2 silk battery screens 10 pieces of silk 172 16 D. Maria Pia of Savoy had arrived in Lisbon two weeks earlier. This meeting was probably her first involving foreign entities after the ceremony of the signing of her marriage to King D. Luís on 5th of October, 1862. 17 Diário de Lisboa, October 20, 1862, p. 2545, c. 1-2. Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... Fig. 5. List of the presents from his Majesty the Taikun of Japan to his Majesty the King of Portugal d To the Council of State 10 pieces of coloured silk 10 pieces of silk’.18 The armoury collection of Palácio Nacional da Ajuda contains two katanas from the nineteenth century and a Japanese saddle, which might be one of those referred to in this document. Since the late nineteenth century, the katanas have hung on a wall of the Chinese Room (Fig. 6). The saddle19 (kura) is signed Kaou (花押) and dated on 8th of December, 1649 (Keian ninen 慶安二年, Juunigatsu Youka 十二月八).20 Both saddle and stirrups (abumi) are richly decorated in black and gilded lacquer with chrysanthemum motifs. The saddle is completed with horse armour composed of fabric and leather pads to protect the horse over the crupper and the peytral to protect the chest and also the chamfron with a dragon caricature. The silks were most probably used to upholster chairs, sofas and cushions, in draperies and to decorate the walls of the Chinese room which in the 1870s, as shown in the coeval photograph, were covered with hakata-ori textiles, a traditional craft of Fukuoka Prefecture that represents a key element of Japan’s culture of fashion.21 18 Arquivo Histórico Diplomático, MNE/AHD/PT – Governo de Macau 1862. Nº 1 a 12, 1862. 19 PNA inv. no. 66775. 20 Translation by Koji Kobayashi and Kosuke Goto. 21 See below, the Chinese Room of the Palácio Nacional da Ajuda. 173 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 6. Two katanas (PNA inv. 3896 and 3897) and detail of hakata-ori silk on the walls of the Chinese Room d In 1864, another delegation was sent to Europe. Their original plan had been to visit Portugal following the footsteps of their predecessors in 1862, but they had to return to Japan due to the internal crisis (Ikedaya Jiken) which broke out in 1864. In addition to the diplomatic delegation, that same year the Portuguese consul in Kanagawa received from the Taikun of Japan a valuable gift to be sent to King Dom Luís. This gift consisted of an assortment of ‘magnificent swords, silks, velvets, volantes, crêpes, lacquer and porcelain artwork, and a large crystal human figure. The whole set took 18 crates.’22 In a dispatch of the State Navy and Overseas secretariat, dated on 29th of July,, 1864,23 the following items are listed: Five swords Five velvet rolls Ten rolls of delicate fabric One roll of red and white silk Ten rolls of silk Ten rolls of red and white crepe Two card game boxes One varnished shelf One shelf for the office 174 22 A Revolução de Setembro, July 22, 1864, p. 1, c. 5. 23 Arquivo Nacional Torre do Tombo, ANTT-AHMF-CR-Cx4742D.131. Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... Fig. 7. Chinese Room of the Royal Palace of Ajuda, ca. 1870 (photo by Henrique Nunes) d One writing box Two pairs of porcelain vases One porcelain punch bowl One porcelain jar One crystal figure representing a man One table Two boxes for different games. Based on this list and a photograph from 1870 (Fig. 7), we could identify some of the pieces that the gift comprised of (bolded). Some of them are still kept in the Chinese Room, other don’t belong to the Palace collections anymore. Two-shelved cabinets24 (kazari-dana) from the mid-nineteenth century, made of wood both lacquered in black (several urushi techniques), gilded lacquer in relief (takamaki-e, hiramaki-e), gold and copper sprinkled (nashiji), made of pearl and silver and brass fittings and lockers. These kazari-dana belong to the class of ornamental shelves for decorative display at home. The drawers on the bottom feature influences from western cabinets, which date them from the end of the Edo period. Decorum dictated that shelves hold a series of writing supply boxes for several proposes. In fact, Queen Maria Pia kept them very decorated with several objects some of them were also diplomatic gifts identified in the document above: a writing box and a writing table. A writing box25 with its calligraphy 24 PNA inv. nos. 51162 and 51168. 25 PNA inv. no. 51168. 175 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 8. Writing box, Japan, 19th c., PNA inv. 51168, (photo by EPI School of Arts) d accessories, from the nineteenth century, made of wood, black lacquer (urushi) and relief lacquer (shishiai-maki-e and tamaki-e, gold and copper aventurine (nashiji). The finest materials and craftsmanship used in the Japanese writing boxes demonstrate the big esteem the Japanese had for calligraphy in pre-modern Japan. This item is richly decorated with flower-carrying carriages, a motif from the Kano school in the seventeenth century (Fig. 8). A writing table26 can be seen in the photograph of the Chinese Room supporting a small Japanese cabinet. It is made of wood covered with black lacquer, it is finely decorated with several lacquer techniques. The drawers, an influence from the west, date it from the late Edo period. Two pair of Japanese porcelain vases and one porcelain jar are also part of the Palace’s Ceramic Collection and might be the pieces mentioned above. The Chinese Room of the Royal Palace of Ajuda One year later, according to an article published in Diário de Notícias on 19th of July, 1865, King Dom Luís has a room decorated ‘[…] to place all the presents he received lately from Japan. The walls are covered with rich silk and the doors imitate lacquer. Mr. Procópio, charged with the decoration project, gives himself to the task with all his artistic skill, and it can be presumed that once the room was finished and adorned with the above-mentioned objects it would have become a pinnacle of wealth and taste.’ 27 The newspaper article mentioned the creation of a room decorated with paintings of ‘chinoiseries’ and presents from Japan. The name Chinese Room is certainly due to a generalization of the term China (with whom Portugal had long maintained commercial relations) to everything ‘oriental’. Beginning to be constructed in the late nineteenth century – an exhilarating time of growing interest for classical civilizations and a progressive abandoning of the Rococo style 176 26 PNA inv. no. 3773. 27 Diário de Notícias, June 29, 1865. Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... Fig. 9. Reseller mark ‘Tognacca & Gglio Tos’, Turin d – the Ajuda National Palace is structurally neo-classical, with regular geometric and symmetric shapes. Except for some beautiful door locks (baroque reminiscences) and a few Chinese ceramic pieces diluted among mostly European decorative artworks, very little was seen of Japan or China before the construction of the Chinese Room in the 1860s. Included in a campaign for the adaptation of the palace to modern life in the second half of the nineteenth century, the creation of a room decorated with ‘chinoiseries’ with the purpose of displaying diplomatic presents from Japan comes perhaps under the influence of Eugénia de Montijo,28 the French Empress (r. 1853–1871), who nourished a great admiration of the baroque and Asian arts. In a time when attentions were turning to Japan – Japanism becomes a strong and renewing influence on the decorative arts movement – Queen Maria Pia’s admiration for Japanese decorative art followed the trend. To the pieces that comprised the royal present to King Luís were added several others acquired by the queen during her travels across Europe. Pedestals, boards, boxes and other items of Japanese origin were also displayed in the Chinese Room (Fig. 9). With the Proclamation of the Republic in 1910 and the subsequent exile of the royal family, the Palace was closed. Used for official ceremonies and occasional visits, its interiors have suffered indiscriminate remodelling through the years. a report from 1938 states that the Chinese Room was remodelled so as to ‘acquire a more sober and harmonious disposition, relieving it of furniture and some tasteless trinkets.’29 Ironically, the presents from Japan, pieces of extraordinary quality, were all stored and replaced. 28 Empress Eugénia opened the Chinese museum in 1863, in the Fontainebleau Palace, with pieces from China and Siam. 29 Arquivo Palácio Nacional da Ajuda, APNA 11.4.3-PT23. 177 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 10. Chinese Room of the Palácio Nacional da Ajuda in 2016 (© Hans Rupp /PNA) d The intention of this research was to restore the Chinese Room’s original state. The Japanese diplomatic gifts were finally brought back to their original places in February 2016 (Fig. 10). Acknowledgements The Author would like to express her gratitude to: Dr. Balazs Lencz, Deputy Head of Conservation at the Hungarian National Museum, dr. Koji Kobayashi, National Research Institute for Cultural Properties, Tokyo, Mr. Kosuke Goto, Dr. Gregory Irvine, Senior Curator of Japanese metalwork, including cloisonné and arms and armour, masks and performing arts, arts of the Meiji period, the Victoria & Albert Museum, London, Dr. Ulrike Körber, Centro CHAIA/ HÉRCULES University of Évora, Dr. Ana Martins Fernandes, CHAM/FSCH/UNL, Eng. Miguel Sequeira Braga, Dr. Maria Manuela Santana (Curator Textile Collection, Palácio Nacional da Ajuda), Dr. Jorge Caravana. d 178 Maria José Tavares s A Diplomatic Gift from Japan, and the Creation of the Chinese Room... Bibliography Archives: Arquivo Histórico Diplomático, MNE/AHD/PT 3P-A19-M.30. Arquivo Histórico Diplomático, MNE/AHD/PT Oficio nº1 a 12, 1862-CX 950 – Governo de Macau 1862. 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Stanley-Baker 1984 Joan Stanley-Baker, Japanese Art. London 1984. Withman 1860 Walt Withman, ‘The Errand-Bearers’, in: New York Times, June 27, 1860, p. 2, www.whitmanarchive.org (accessed May 2015). 180 Daria Vinogradova & Elena Porodina (The Central Armed Forces Museum of the Russian Federation, Moscow) Weapons as Ambassadorial Gifts in the Collection of the Central Armed Forces Museum of the Russian Federation \ A gift is an object passed as a special donation. Its semantic function is multifaceted. Usually a gift can express a positive assessment and respect to a person and their work; become a symbol of the establishment, maintenance or development of relations, as well as an expression of solidarity and mutual assistance among individuals as well as between nations and states. The tradition of offering ambassadorial gifts has existed for many centuries and over time it contributes to greater intercultural unification. It is well known that diplomacy is connected with the presentation by an ambassador (or an embassy) not only of political, economic or military interests of their country, but also its culture, tradition and customs.1 Gifts are usually presented during diplomatic visits or meetings to celebrate friendly relationships or successful military operations or a peace agreement, at coronations, inaugurations etc. a gift is always considered one of the indispensable attributes of international politeness and expresses, on the one hand, the national specifics of its country, and on the other hand it is a response to the personified features of someone to whom it is intended to be given. During the Soviet period, special state gift repositories existed and they were set up and run by the Administrative Department of the Central Committee of the CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union) and government. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs had the same practice. The Special Commission for Souvenirs and Gifts submitted and discussed proposals about gifts to high-ranking guests. The duty for their distribution was undertaken by the Protocol Department of the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which acted as a unified state protocol institution. Today, according to Russian protocol rules, most gifts presented to the President of the Russian Federation are kept in the Library at the Kremlin Residence.2 1 Egorov / Егоров 2003. 2 Electronic Protocol Assistance, http://e-protocol.narod.ru/index/0-58 (accessed March 2015). 181 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Shpagin Submachine-Gun (PPSh-41) prepared for Charles de Gaulle d Fig. 2. Shpagin Submachine-Gun (detail) d Weapons are presented as gifts when they are ambassadorial gifts or state gifts or awards. Weapons presented as gifts are often works of art and feature great craftsmanship and originality and represent certain values. The Central Armed Forces Museum of the Russian Federation (henceforth: CAFM RF) possesses a rather large collection of giftitems. These items were featured at the exhibition entitled ‘Weapons Presented as Awards and Gifts from the CAFM RF Collection’. This display consisted of weapon pieces which belonged to famous Soviet military leaders and statesmen. The exhibition attracted a lot of public interest and was a success and toured regional museums in Russia in the 1990s. For the purpose of this paper, the authors decided to present six selected objects featured in this exhibition from the CAFM RF collection which were chosen due to their special historical value and cultural diversity. 1. Shpagin Submachine-Gun (PPSh-41) – Gift intended to be presented to General Charles de Gaulle Made in Izhevsk, USSR, 1944. Inv. no. 1/6178 (Fig. 1–2). There is no reliable evidence about the history of this unique museum item. We can suppose that it was made especially for General Charles de Gaulle’s (1890–1970) visit to Moscow in December 1944. His negotiations with ‘The Kremlin Highlander’ Joseph Stalin 182 Daria Vinogradova & Elena Porodina s Weapons as Ambassadorial Gifts... Fig. 3. Polish sabre, gift on behalf of the Polish Nation to Mikhail Malinin d (1878–1953) ended with the signing of the Franco-Soviet Treaty of Alliance and Mutual Assistance. The document was valid for 20 years. The Soviet Union was the first country among the Allied Forces of World War II that recognized the temporary and at that time unofficial government of Free France. It was a personal triumph of the legendary general and politician. According to Jean Cadet, the French Ambassador to Russia in 2004–2006, the United States of America only officially recognized de Gaulle’s government after de Gaulle’s visit to Moscow. It was a great achievement in diplomacy because at one time the United States intended to establish their military protectorate and rule in France. It is difficult to overestimate the meaning of that historical meeting in Moscow. The treaty with the USSR was supposed to be the first step in General de Gaulle’s plan to create a system of international security.3 The submachine-gun features a metal plate with the following inscription in Russian engraved in gold: ‘To General de Gaulle from Marshal Stalin. December, 1944’. The decorative details on the gunstock and bolt cover stresses the importance of the item. The reason, why this submachine gun wasn’t presented to the General is unknown. The weapon was handed over to the military arsenal, where it was found and later transferred to the Museum collection in 1973. 2. Sabre – Gift on behalf of the Polish Nation to Mikhail Malinin, Hero of the USSR and Army General Made in Poland, after 1934. Inv. no. 1/3878 (Fig. 3). An example of a Polish officer’s sabre, model 1921/22. The blade is single-edged, decorated with an engraved floral ornament, the Polish State Emblem and the words ‘Honour and Fatherland’ in Polish inscribed on it. The sabre belonged to the Soviet Army General Mikhail Malinin (1899–1960) who was one of the most famous commanders during World War II. In 1944 and 1945 he took part in the Vistula-Oder, East Pomeranian and Berlin 3 Jean Cadet: ‘Exactly this visit to Moscow helped de Gaulle to achieve international recognition’ in: Известия (Izvestiya), 6 December 2004: http://izvestia.ru/news/297300 (accessed March 2015). 183 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. Dha sword, gift to Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov d strategic offensive operations. For the duration of the war he served as Chief of Staff of the Corps, then Army and then the Front and stood shoulder to shoulder with two remarkable soviet military leaders, the USSR Marshals Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov (1896–1974) and Konstantin Konstantinovich Rokossovsky (1896–1968). Sabres used to be popular gifts between People’s Republics – it was given to the General on behalf of the Polish nation. Following Mikhail Malinin’s death, his family donated the sabre to the Museum in 1960. 3. Dha sword – Gift from the Northern Military District troops of Burma to Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, Minister of Defense of the USSR and Marshal of the Soviet Union Made in Burma, 2nd half of the 20th c. Inv. no.1/2411 (Fig. 4). The blade of this sword is made of steel; the scabbard and handle are decorated with silver, repoussé plates. In February 1957, the Soviet Minister of Defence, G. K. Zhukov visited India and Burma (Myanmar). In his biography of Zhukov, the American historian Otto Preston Chaney wrote that the visit marked the beginning of a new Soviet policy regarding the countries of Asia.4 The memorial inscription on the sword reads in Burmese and English. The item was passed on to the collection of the Museum from the Office of the USSR Defense Minister in March 1957. 4 184 Chaney 1996, pp. 417–419. Daria Vinogradova & Elena Porodina s Weapons as Ambassadorial Gifts... Fig. 5. Set of single action colts. Gift from US President Gerald Ford to Leonid Brezhnev d Fig. 6. CZ-75 Pistol. Gift from Kim Il Sung to General Vasily Petrov d 4. Set of Single Action Colts – Gift from US President Gerald Ford to Leonid Brezhnev, General Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee Made in the United States, 1974. Inv. no. 1/7297 (Fig. 5). It was a gift of ‘good will’, that was intended as a sign of development and progress in the relations between the United States and the USSR. During its long history, Colt Industries produced many gift samples of pistols and revolvers. It is known that similar gifts were made, for example, for presidents Dwight Eisenhower (1890–1969), John F. Kennedy (1917–1963) and earlier even for Tsar Nicholas I (r. 1825–1855). This Set of Single Action Colts was made in 1974 as a special edition for Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982), General Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee and was delivered to Soviet Embassy representatives in the United States. Soon afterwards, the American side decided to change the status of the prepared revolvers and the ‘Ambassadorial Gift’ was presented to Leonid Brezhnev on behalf of the American people, in November 1974 at the USSR-USA summit in Vladivostok,5 with US President, Gerald Ford (1913–2006). Many historians and statesmen have stressed that it was a key meeting for the future of Soviet-American relations. It was followed with a communiqué about the reduction of strategic offensive arms, signed by Leonid Brezhnev and Gerald Ford. The revolvers are decorated with gold and ivory plates with symbols of the USSR and the USA. This unique object came to the Museum from the Kremlin Regiment in 1987, several years after Leonid Brezhnev’s death. 5 Wilson 1985. 185 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 7. Sabre – Gift from the People’s Great Hural of Mongolia to K. Voroshilov, Marshal of the USSR d 5. CZ-75 Pistol – Gift from Kim Il Sung, Leader of the Korean People’s Democratic Republic to Army General Vasily Petrov, Commander of Land Troops of the Armed Forces of the USSR Made in Czechoslovakia, before 1985. Inv. no. 1/7454 (Fig. 6). The pistol was presented to Army General Vasily Ivanovich Petrov (1917–2014) in 1985 when he visited North Korea for events to celebrate its 40th anniversary of liberation from the Japanese occupation. Special attention should be paid to the fact that the weapon was produced in Czechoslovakia, which supplied such kinds of weapons to North Korea at that time, but it was decorated with work done by Korean craftsmen. The gun’s steel frame features richly decorated engravings with floral ornamentation, the image of a mountain and a small house, which symbolizes the command post Kim Il Sung used to coordinate the battles the Korean people fought against Japanese troops in 1945. The item was donated to the Museum in 1985. 6. Sabre – Gift from the People’s Great Hural of Mongolia to Klement Voroshilov, Marshal of the USSR Made in Zlatoust, USSR, early 1960s. Inv. no. 1/5989 (Fig. 7). The gift was presented to Klement Voroshilov (1891–1969) in 1969 when Mongolia celebrated the 30th Anniversary of its victory over Japanese troops on the banks of the Khalkhin Gol River. The blade and scabbard are made of steel and decorated with 409 grams of gold and precious stones: rubies, sapphires and emeralds. There is a memorial inscription in Mongol on the blade of the sabre and oriental decoration that gives this weapon a special, ornamental character. The Mongol sabre was passed on to the Museum in 1972. 186 Daria Vinogradova & Elena Porodina s Weapons as Ambassadorial Gifts... To conclude, weapons presented as diplomatic gifts are firstly museum objects, secondly symbols of diplomatic relations, thirdly pieces of decorative and applied arts, sometimes jewellery, fourthly can serve as a historical source, which allows us to research the relationships between nations and also characterizes the degree of respect awarded a statesman or military leader for their activities. Moreover, the wide range of diplomatic gifts from all over the world preserved in the Central Armed Forces Museum of the Russian Federation underlines the multi-directional nature of the international relationships of the state and its Armed Forces. Hence, we welcome and call for more detailed studies of objects as works of art and craftsmanship preserved in military museums. d 187 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Chaney 1996 Otto Preston Chaney, Zhukov. Oklahoma 1996. Egorov / Егоров 2003 V. K. Egorov / В.К. Егоров, ‘Kul’tura i diplomatiya: predlozheniya nashego vremeni’ / ‘Культура и дипломатия: предложения нашего времени’, in: Diplomatiya i kul’tura, materialy naučnoj konferencii (4 iyla 2002 g.) / Дипломатия и культура, материалы научной конференции (4 июля 2002 г.). K. M. Dolgov / К. М. Долгов (ed.). Moskva / Москва 2003, pp. 12–22. Wilson 1985 Robert Lawrence Wilson, Colt, an American legend: the official history of Colt firearms from 1836 to the present. New York 1985. 188 Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska (Polish Army Museum in Warsaw) Gifts of Friendship in the Collection of the Polish Army Museum in Warsaw \ Throughout history, the exchange of gifts has served as a manifestation of good relations between states, authorities and institutions. a number of objects in the collection of the Polish Army Museum may be classified as gifts of friendship. They have been presented to the Museum either directly by foreign institutions or indirectly by the agencies which were their original beneficiaries. The gifts can be organised into several categories, depending on the circumstances in which they were received: gifts presented during visits by heads of states, gifts presented by military delegations, and gifts donated to the Polish Army Museum by their recipients or presented to the Museum directly, usually by other military museums. The objects themselves also vary as to their rank and value to the collection. This paper attempts to introduce the diversity of gifts and relations they represented, with special emphasis on particularly exotic tokens of friendship. Many gifts preserved in the collection of the Polish Army Museum come from periods of intense diplomatic exchange during the 1950s, 1960s and early 1970s. This was a direct result of the nature of international politics at the time and the imposed friendship between socialist states. The intense relations between military museums and their overseeing authorities during that time allowed the Polish Army Museum to build an extensive collections of uniform sets, badges and decorations, as well as propaganda posters, photographs of military ceremonies and of the daily life of soldiers in various Warsaw Pact countries. Gifts presented during that era – including photographs, brochures and posters in particular – were an expression of the propaganda of friendship and comradery between the various states and especially between the Soviet army and the armies of the other states of the Eastern Bloc at the time. These gifts entered the collection of the Polish Army Museum as direct transfers from other museums, through the respective military attachés or through the headquarters of allied armies. Besides military equipment and propaganda materials, the Polish Army Museum also received such objects as military colours from Vietnam donated to the Museum in 19611 to be displayed at an exhibition on 1 Inv. no. MWP 31262*. 189 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Cartridge case from a 1943 American 105 mm howitzer given by representatives of China to the Polish delegation in 1953 d the occasion of the 1st Winter Spartakiad of Friendly Armies in February 1961, or weapons from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea – including American arms captured in the Korean War of 1950–1953. Donations of uniforms, badges and decorations of communist states were made repeatedly due to the introduction of new designs and models: as from 1954 – after political changes in the wake of Stalin’s death in March 1953, in the early 1960s and early 1970s. Presentations of gifts from Mongolia, China, North Korea and Vietnam were made in 1961 and 1962.2 Obviously, all the gifts had to be reciprocated. For many years, the Polish Army Museum maintained a special department committed to sending current Polish uniforms, badges and decorations to museums of other socialist states and to Polish halls of tradition kept by various army units. The above-listed gifts of friendship contributed to the expansion and completion of the Museum’s collections of late twentieth century uniforms and phaleristics of the Eastern Bloc, providing sufficient material for the Polish Army Museum to set up a permanent exhibition dedicated to the armies of Warsaw Pact states. The only museum in the Western world that established and maintained cooperation and the exchange of artefacts with the Polish Army Museum in 1976 and 1977 was the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa. The two institutions exchanged military decorations and were due to exchange uniforms, though this plan never came to fruition. 2 190 Inv. nos. MWP 31320*–MWP 31670*. Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska s Gifts of Friendship... Fig. 2. Silk cloth with woven depiction of the first bridge over the River Yangtze, built in the city of Wuhan in 1957 d Gifts presented as tokens of friendship and comradery to official military delegations were of an entirely different nature. Gifts received by high-ranking officers in prominent positions – often odd objects of unknown application – were donated to the Polish Army Museum. The earliest item in this category is an oil painting depicting Yugoslavian insurgents,3 given to Marshal Michał Rola-Żymierski (1890–1989) by the Marshal of Yugoslavia Yosip Broz Tito (1892–1980) on his visit to Poland in 1946. In the same category is a cartridge case from a 1943 American 105mm howitzer4 used by Chiang Kaishek (1887–1975) in the war with Chinese communists (1946–1950) (Fig. 1). Decorated with ornaments and inscriptions, it was given by representatives of China to the Polish delegation at the IV World Festival of Youth and Students in Bucharest in 1953. In 1954, the Polish Army Museum received an embroidered and golden-framed portrait of Mao Zedong (1893–1976),5 Chairman of the Communist Party of China and the father of its ideology. It was a gift of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Song and Dance Troupe. In 1957, the Museum received an exceptional number of exotic gifts from China, an expression of the intense Polish-Chinese relations on various levels. This heightened exchange slowed down in November 1957, after Mao introduced the ‘Great Leap Forward’ campaign which also resulted in the cooling down of Sino-Russian relations. In October 1957, a delegation from the Polish Army Museum accompanied National Defence Minister Marian Spychalski (1906–1980) on his visit to the People’s Republic of China. The visit covered a considerable number of Chinese towns and plants where the Polish delegation was lavished with numerous gifts. These eventually made their way into the collection of the Polish Army Museum as some of the most exotic and unusual artefacts. At the Wuhan textile mill, the Polish delegation was presented with a painting on silk depicting a building with the portrait of Mao Zedong,6 and a two-metre long silk cloth woven to depict the construction of the first bridge on the River Yangtze built in the city of Wuhan in 1957 3 Inv. no. MWP 53613. 4 Inv. no. MWP 54066. 5 Inv. no. MWP 53843. 6 Inv. no. MWP 54735. 191 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. Goblet of sapphire blue crystal, a gift from Port Arthur-Dalian for the Polish delegation in China, 1957 d (Fig. 2).7 The cloth is rolled up and placed in a tube-shaped box covered in richly ornamented red brocade. At the aviation plant in Shenyang Mukden, the Polish delegation was given two blades of a jet engine gas turbine in a glass case.8 The blades feature the following Chinese inscription: ‘To peace and friendship – Liming National Engine Factory, People’s Republic of China’. The Shenyang Mukden Artillery Academy presented the Poles with a measuring device, while the Port Arthur-Dalian garrison gave them a goblet of sapphire blue crystalwith a lid,9 in a box wrapped in ornate cherry brocade, lined with pink silk and covered with a glass pane, with the following Chinese inscription: ‘In commemoration of the visit of the military delegation from the Polish People’s Republic’ (Fig. 3). From the commander of the South Sea Fleet, the delegation received a 40 centimetres long anthozoan coral in a wooden case (Fig. 4).10 The coral was presented together with a rufous anthozoan coral skeleton and a fan-shaped black gorgonian coral skeleton of the Antipates genus. Since such fan-shaped coral forms are commonly known as ‘Venus fans’, this part of the gift has been dubbed the ‘tree of love’ (Fig. 5). 192 7 Inv. no. MWP 54734. 8 Inv. no. MWP 54727. 9 Inv. no. MWP 54736. 10 Inv. no. MWP 54729. Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska s Gifts of Friendship... Fig. 4. Anthozoan coral, gift from the Commander of the Chinese South Sea Fleet for the Polish delegation, 1957 d Fig. 5. Fan-shaped black gorgonian coral skeleton, the so-called ‘Venus fan’ d Fig. 6. Coal cassette containing a miner’s lantern, a drill and a photograph of a coal mine d Fig. 7. Desk ornament inlaid with mother of pearl, gift for the Polish delegation from the Nanking Military Academy d The Polish Army Museum has also received gifts originally given to other military institutions, such as a coal cassette containing a miner’s lantern, a drill and a photograph of a coal mine11 (Fig. 6), and a copy of Jan Žižka’s ceremonial mace (bulawa)12, received by a delegation led by National Defence Minister Marian Spychalski upon their visit to 11 Inv. no. MWP 25206*. 12 Inv. no. MWP 25205*. 193 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 8. Sculpture depicting three Soviet soldiers with a banner presented by the Soviet army for the Polish Army in 1959 d Fig. 9. One of the portraits of state leaders, presented to the Polish National Defence Minister, Marian Spychalski d Czechoslovakia in November 1960, and in 1961 donated to the Museum by the officers of the Polish Soldiers’ Club. Another military delegation to the Nanking Military Academy brought back a desk ornament inlaid with mother of pearl (Fig. 7).13 Other artefacts which have made their way into the Museum collection include sculptures, e.g. a statue of Lenin, a sculpture depicting three Soviet soldiers with a banner presented by the Soviet army in 1959, on the 15th anniversary of the formation of the Polish People’s Army (Fig. 8),14 a sculpture titled ‘Soviet Soldiers in Berlin’ presented in 1956 by Marshal Zhukov (1896– 1974) to Marshal Konstanty Rokossowski (1896–1968) as a gift from the Soviet army to the Polish army, a bronze statue of a marching soldier presented to National Defence Minister Marian Spychalski on his visit to Hungary in September 1964, portraits of state leaders in oil and embroidery (e.g. the previously mentioned portrait of Mao Zedong and a portrait of Ho Chi Minh) or images depicting battle scenes (Fig. 9).15 194 13 Inv. no. MWP 25210*. 14 Inv. no. MWP 55761. 15 Inv. nos. MWP W.66876, MWP 33109*. Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska s Gifts of Friendship... Fig. 10. Gilded ceremonial sabre with scabbard presented to the Council of State Chairman Professor Henryk Jabłoński by the President of Syria in 1985 d Since the late 1960s, the exchange of gifts has been dominated by commemorative plaques and plates. Such predictable gifts, free of the surprise and exotic mystery of those of previous decades, have been quietly filling the shelves of the Museum’s storage rooms. Besides the above-mentioned, which are more or less ‘standard’ gifts presented with the thought of reinforcing friendly relations, the Polish Army Museum has received several truly valuable artefacts. This category includes the barrel of the Grand Hetman of the Crown Krzysztof Radziwiłł’s 150 mm half-kartouwe gun from 1638,16 transferred from the collection of the Military Historical Museum of Artillery, Engineers and Signal Corps in Leningrad during a ceremony held at the Central House of the Red Army in Moscow on 20th of February, 1963. On 14th of May, 1974, a Soviet attaché presented to the Museum a late eighteenth century Polish artillery or engineering officer’s tunic17, held at the Revolution Museum and later at the State Historical Museum in Moscow as Tadeusz Kościuszko’s (1746–1817) uniform. The tunic was presented as a gift from the Soviet Army to the Polish People’s Army. Unfortunately, the Polish Army Museum was not only a beneficiary of gift exchange. The Museum archives contain correspondence dated March 1947 concerning gift suggestions for the Defence Minister of Czechoslovakia, General Ludvík Svoboda (1895–1979), who was in Poland on 11th of March, 1947, on an official visit to sign a pact of friendship and cooperation. By orders of the National Defence Minister Marshal Michał Żymirski, the Polish Army Museum dispensed an eighteenth century karabela sabre and a seventeenth 16 Inv. no. MWP 32540*. 17 Inv. no. MWP 40269*. 195 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 12. T-34/85 tank presented by the Polish Army Museum to the Tallinn Military Museum in Estonia d Fig. 11. Renault FT-17 tank found in Afghanistan in 2012 d Fig. 13. Centurion MK-5 tank, a gift from the King of the Netherlands in 2015 d century wheel-lock arquebus. On 14th of December, 1948, new National Defence Minister, Konstanty Rokossowski, ordered a selection of twenty pieces of antique firearms as a gift for Joseph Stalin (1878–1953) on his 70th birthday. According to press reports, a special train carried gifts from all over Poland to Moscow. These were later transported to the Pushkin Museum in Moscow to be displayed as part of an exhibition showing off gifts sent to Stalin by ‘the working masses of the world’. In 1983, at the request of Prime Minister General Wojciech Jaruzelski (1923–2014), the Polish Army Museum selected and released from its collection a late seventeenth century hussar cuirass bearing the image of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception and a Chevalier Cross. It was presented as a gift from the Polish State to Pope John Paul II (p. 1978–2005), on 17th June, 1983, during his second visit to Poland. In turn, in 1985, the Museum’s bladed weapons collection received a gilded ceremonial Middle-Eastern sabre with scabbard (Fig. 10),18 presented to the Council of State Chairman Professor Henryk Jabłoński (1909–2003) by the President of Syria Hafez al-Assad (1930–2000). 18 196 Inv. no. MWP 46235*. Izabela Prokopczuk-Runowska s Gifts of Friendship... Since the transformation of 1989, most gifts of friendship have arrived in the form of commemorative plaques, although in the last decade there have been a few gifts of a higher calibre. a Renault FT-17 tank found in Afghanistan in 2012,19 at President Bronisław Komorowski’s (pres. 2010–2015) request and with the approval of Afghan President Hamid Karzai (pres. 2001–2014), was transported to Poland as evidence of friendly relations between the two countries (Fig. 11). Restored to working condition at the Polish Army Museum, the tank now adorns the most important ceremonies involving historic military vehicles. In January 2015, the Polish Army Museum presented the Tallinn Military Museum in Estonia with a T-34/85 tank (Fig. 12) – a gift reciprocated with complete sets of contemporary Estonian army uniforms;20 on 1st of April, 2015, the Minister of Defence of the Netherlands, Jeanine Hennis-Plasschaert, presented the Polish Army Museum with a Centurion MK-5 tank as a gift from the King of the Netherlands, Willem-Alexander (Fig. 13). The above brief overview of the Polish Army Museum’s collection of gifts shows that gift traffic is a direct reflection of the country’s current international policy. In any case, based on present trends we may assume that the days of such exotic gifts as anthozoan coral are irrevocably gone. translation: Anastazja Pindor d 19 Inv. no. MWP 60864*. 20 Inv. no. MWP 66500*–66565* 197 PART IV Diplomatic Gifts. Case Studies Barbara Karl (Museum für angewandte Kunst / Gegenwartskunst in Vienna) Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting. Three Ottoman Çaprak Saddle Cloths in the MAK – Museum für angewandte Kunst/ Gegenwartskunst in Vienna* \ Objects of different kinds coming from the Islamic world were collected by the former Austrian ruling family, the Habsburgs, for about seven centuries.1 Thanks to these collections, Vienna’s museums house many objects from these regions. Given the closeness of the two empires, the Habsburg and the Ottoman, most items in Vienna come from the vast dominions of the Ottoman Empire. The two sides did not only meet in armed encounters, they were also in relatively constant diplomatic contact. Horses and weapons were favoured diplomatic gifts not only between the Sultan and the Emperor but also on a more regional level between the pasha of Buda and the Emperor. In 1567 for instance, the Pasha, Sokollu Mustafa (d. 1578), sent to Emperor Maximilian II ‘six beautiful horses [surely sumptuously caparisoned – B.K.], some sabres, bows and arrows and an offer of friendship.’2 * This article is the corrected and reworked version of: Barbara Karl, ‘Horses Dressed in Silk and Gold: Three Ottoman Çapraks from the Habsburg Imperial Collection in the Museum Für Angewandte Kunst in Vienna’, in: HALI: International Magazine for Antique Carpet and Textile Art, 175 (2013), pp. 25–29. In HALI this article was published before the last round of corrections and additions could be carried out by the author and without footnotes (without the author’s knowledge). Therefore the technical analysis of the textiles, in particular, includes errors in the HALI publication. The author thanks Paulus Rainer, Katja Schmitz von Ledebur and especially Thomas Kuster of the Kunsthistorisches Museum, who transcribed several of the entries of the inventories, and Angela Völker and Martina Dax for their help and support. I also thank Michał Dziewulski for providing the opportunity to publish the corrected version of this article. 1 Karl 2011. 2 Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Mediceo del Principato 21659, fol. 128. Quotation: Documentary Sources for the Arts and Humanities (Medici Archive Database, Inc.), http://documents.medici.org/. 201 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Horse trappings count among the most sumptuous pieces of Ottoman armour stressing the importance of this animal in the context of representation.3 Trappings included heavily decorated bridles, stirrups and belts, saddles with valuable textiles, pendants of semi-precious stones and animal hair (Wundschuk) and different kinds of covers. Five saddle cloths or çapraks of islamicate origin have survived in Vienna’s collections. Three of them were made either in the Ottoman Empire or possibly in Safavid Iran for the Ottoman market,4 whilst two were made in the Ottoman Empire, most likely in Istanbul, with the use of splendid Italian silk and gold brocaded textiles.5 The latter two illustrate the high estimation the Ottomans had for valuable Italian textile products. All five items are dated to the late sixteenth century when contact between the empires was diplomatically, as well as militarily, intense. This article traces the itinerary of the three çapraks, which were either made in the Ottoman Empire or Safavid Iran, and follows their history to where they are today, namely in the collection of the Museum für angewandte Kunst/Gegenwartskunst in Vienna (hereafter: MAK). For the purpose of this paper, they are designated with the numbers 1 to 3 – çaprak no. 1: MAK inv. no. T 9128, çaprak no. 2: T 9130 and çaprak no. 3: T 9129 (Fig. 1–3). A çaprak is a large rectangular textile horse decoration that was tied to the saddle and covered the rear part of the animal, as can be seen in numerous Ottoman paintings depicting riders on horseback. Taking a closer look at sixteenth and seventeenth century Ottoman paintings one sees çapraks employed at almost every occasion including sumptuously harnessed horses: at processions, at hunts or on military campaigns. They were an integral part of horse decorations. Numerous çapraks survived in European collections, many of them were booty pieces, others were part of horses and their trappings that were given as diplomatic gifts. Various such examples have survived to this day, and can be found in, among others, the Landesmuseum in Karlsruhe, the Iparmüveszéti Múzeum in Budapest, the Benaki Museum in Athens, Royal Wawel Castle in Krakow and the Marstallmuseum in Munich. However, these examples date mostly to the late seventeenth century. Thanks to their provenance from the Ambras castle collection and their presence in inventories from the late sixteenth century, MAK’s çapraks can be dated more precisely to the late sixteenth century. Their early documentation gives us the possibility to follow their itinerary since their inclusion in the Ambras armoury. In addition, their technique renders them quite unique since Ottoman textiles that feature such fine tapestry weave with the use of metal threads are extremely rare. A centre 202 3 Fragner, Kauz, Ptak and Schottenhammer 2010. 4 MAK – Museum für angewandte Kunst, inv. nos. T 9128, T 9129, T 9130. In a conversation on September 15, 2014 Michael Franses pointed out this possibility. I thank him for sharing his thoughts on the saddle cloths. 5 Kunsthistorisches Museum, Rüstkammer, inv. no. A 797; MAK, inv. no. T 9131. Barbara Karl s Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting Fig. 1. Çaprak Saddle Cloth, MAK inv. no. T 9128 d Fig. 2. Çaprak Saddle Cloth, MAK inv. no. T 9130 d Fig. 3. Çaprak Saddle Cloth, MAK inv. no. T 9129 d 203 The Ambassadors of Dialogue of fine tapestry woven textiles in the time period in question was Kashan in Iran.6 The hypothesis that the saddle clothes were produced in Safavid Iran is a valid one. Whether they were made there or not, stylistically they were Ottoman. It is possible that the covers came to Istanbul with one of the huge Safavid embassies during the second half of the sixteenth century and were recycled as a gift for the Habsburgs. In order to solve this question of whether they are Ottoman or Safavid it is vital that the technical aspects of these pieces are suitably analysed. Each of the three MAK objects consist of two parts of roughly equal size. The visible halves of the objects are woven in interlocked tapestry weave, the undecorated halves are simple plain cotton and linen textiles that were hidden under the saddles (only in çaprak no. 3) the part woven in tapestry weave and the part woven in lozenge twill share the same warp; all the objects are lined with coarse linen or cotton fabric. In çaprak no. 3 there is a slit trimmed with leather between the two parts, through which the crupper strap ran, linking the saddle to the tail of the horse and stabilising the textile on its back. The three textiles are different in size, with no. 1 being the largest (126 x 135 cm) and no. 3 (104 x 101 cm) the smallest example. No. 2 and no. 3 have little pieces of lead sewn into the part of the textile that hung from the sides of the horse in order to add weight so it remained in place. The following technical analysis focuses on the decorated parts of the textiles in the tapestry weave: Çaprak no. 1: the warp is of naturally white silk threads (Z-torsion, warp density 12 –13 per cm), the wefts are of silk (in Z-torsion) in different colours (blue, red, green, dark blue, black) and metal threads (silver and gilded lamella wrapped S-riant around a silk thread with slight S-torsion). The weft is a double weft the density of which differs considerably between the colours and places counted between 36 and 44 double wefts per cm. The tapestry woven piece is surrounded by the original red tablet woven border (silk threads in Z-torsion) including fringes and also metal threads. Çaprak no. 2: the warp is of naturally white silk thread (Z-torsion: warp density 12 – 13 per cm), the wefts consist of silk (in Z-torsion) in different colours (red, green, blue, black) and metal treads (silver and gilded lamella wrapped S-riant around silk thread of slight S-torsion). The weft is a double weft the density of which differs considerably between the colours and places counted between 30 and 46 double wefts per cm). The piece is surrounded by a red tablet woven border including silk fringes, which in the light of its crudeness and well preserved state is quite certainly a later addition. Çaprak no. 3: the warp is of yellow silk threads (Z-torsion: warp density 11–12 per cm), the wefts are of silk (in S-torsion) in different colours (red, green, brown, blue, black) and metal threads (silver lamella wrapped S-riant around silk thread in Z torsion) but also include cotton for the parts in lozenge twill. The weft is a double 6 204 Compare: Klose 1993. Barbara Karl s Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting weft (except for the parts woven in brown colour) and its density differs considerably between the colours and places counted between 22 and 30 per cm).7 It is remarkable that the çapraks nos. 1 and 2 are very similar in technique, they are also larger, more densely woven and include more metal threads and can thus be considered more valuable than no. 3, which also differs in the composition of its threads. In addition to the difference in material there is a difference in style between the first two and no. 3, which was probably produced in another workshop or dates from a later production. The basic layout of the three MAK çapraks is similar, each featuring a large border surrounded by guard stripes that cover the three sides of the textile. The remaining field is covered with different vegetal colourful designs in Ottoman style, the most important colours being gold, silver, red, blue, green and black. Nos. 1 and 2 still feature silk fringes, with no. 1 also having gold and silver fringes, and no. 3 short woollen fringes. No. 1, the largest and most valuable textile of the three (it includes the largest quantity of metal thread), features a double undulating floral border and a field intersected by strings that emphasize the centre and the corners and include colourful floral designs, including the famous saz leaves against a golden background. The border of no. 2 consists of alternating flower buds and saz leaves against a formerly golden ground and geometric design against a now oxidised silver ground in guard stripes. The field is accentuated by two corner segments decorated similarly to the border in the corners; the rest is filled with small aligned flowers with formerly gold and silver leaves and set against a red background. The decoration of çaprak no. 3 is more geometrised with alternating black stars and elongated octagons with small extensions. The field is again accentuated by corner segments featuring Chinese inspired cloud designs and by stripes with a rather simplified çintamani pattern. Its design sets it somewhat apart from the other textiles. Nos. 1 and 2 show traces of use and repair, it is possible that they were used in tournaments that were occasionally staged in Ambras castle. Stylistically the çapraks, especially nos. 1 and 2 fit into the period of the courtly floral style developed from the mid-sixteenth century onwards. During this time the Ottoman arts literally blossomed. Designs were dynamised by adapting concepts of nature, especially flowers, that were integrated into the designs of works of art of all kinds, from tiles and metalwork to architectural decoration and textiles.8 The closest comparison to these three items is a fragment of a çaprak in the Washington Textile Museum whose design is even more detailed and probably counts 7 The technical analysis of the pieces was made by Martina Dax and Barbara Karl in 2009 and 2015 in the MAK. 8 See: Denny and Krody 2012; Atil 1987. 205 The Ambassadors of Dialogue more weft threads than the MAK pieces.9 It seems closely related to no. 1 and was linked to courtly production in Istanbul’s courtly workshops, the nakkashane.10 Even though less detailed in design, the quality of execution and value of material employed suggests that nos. 1 and 2 can be linked to courtly production or a courtly order as well. No. 3 is somewhat coarser and includes less metal; it is therefore less certain but not impossible that it was produced in the same context. The three çapraks arrived at the MAK in 1940 as part of an exchange of museum holdings between the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna and the MAK. They were formerly in the Ambras section of the Kunstkammer.11 In light of their good state of preservation and their high quality we can presume they were diplomatic gifts. As mentioned before, horses, but also camels and other exotic animals, often in sumptuous trappings, were much appreciated as gifts at the imperial court. Saddle cloths similar to those discussed were mentioned in the later bequest inventory of Emperor Mathias (r. 1612–1619), where they were explicitly listed as presents of an Ottoman embassy to the Habsburg emperor, which stresses their use in the context of high-ranking diplomatic gifts.12 Unfortunately no details of provenance are mentioned in the context of the Ambras collection. The aforementioned gift exchange with the pasha of Buda was by no means the only instance of Ottoman-Habsburg gift giving. Another – more highly ranked exchange – took place in Frankfurt in 1562. After negotiating the armistice agreement, the imperial resident in Istanbul, Oghier Ghislain de Busbecq (1522–1592), was accompanied back by a Polish renegade Joachim Strasz, a courtly interpreter (Turk.: dragoman) in the Ottoman service called Ibrahim Beg (d. 1571). They went to attend the coronation of the future Emperor Maximilian II in Frankfurt (r. 1562–1576) where Ibrahim was received by him and his father, Emperor Ferdinand I (r. 1558–1564).13 The gifts of the Ottoman court interpreter included a horse with gilded bridles and a woven saddle cover, two sets of crystal or alabaster tableware and four camels with valuable harness for the emperor. In addition to those, four Venetian jugs, two cups decorated with precious stones, two Ottoman carpets and cushions are also mentioned in the records.14 Moreover, there were presents for the newly crowned Maximilian II: another horse, two camels, a dog, a bow and arrow set including quivers and four painted pikes – quite a traditional selection. In turn, the sultan’s courtier was rewarded with money and textiles for his service.15 9 206 Washington Textile Museum, inv. no. 1.38.1931; Denny 1972, p. 66; Mackie 1973, pp. 25–26, 55. 10 Atil 1987, pp. 220–221. 11 Inventory numbers then were: KK 5382, KK 5397 and KK 5416. 12 Voltelini 1899, reg. 17408, p. LXXXIV, nos. 1911, 1912. 13 Teply 1976, p. 18; Rudolph 2005, pp. 295–314; Johnson 2011, pp. 197–229. 14 Rudolph 2005, pp. 301 and 302. Rudolph quotes two sources mentioning slightly different gifts. 15 Ibidem, p. 303. Barbara Karl s Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting During the later years of the sixteenth century, Archduke Ferdinand of Tyrol (r. 1564–1595) assembled one of the best collections of arms and armour in Europe. Many pieces were gifts he received from members of the House of Habsburg. Maximilian II was Ferdinand’s brother, so it is a viable possibility that he passed on the saddle cloths received in 1562 and on other occasions to him. The Ambras armoury was accommodated in five rooms and was thematically arranged. In one of the rooms, for instance, was Ferdinand’s Armamentarium Heroicum – armoury of heroes – where armour or pieces of armour and portraits or even statues of their former owners were placed next to one another. The armoury consisted of gifts from various emperors, kings and other heroes including Sultan Süleyman (r. 1520–1566) and the Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha (1506–1579), who were part of this exquisite display.16 The smallest room of the Rüstkammer was dedicated to the Archduke’s personal successes against the Ottomans (in fact but minor successes). It was called Türkenkammerl and also included the booty taken by another imperial general, Lazarus von Schwendi (1522–1583). This room was arranged not long before 1596 when the first comprehensive inventory of the entire collection was written.17 It was filled with Ottoman, Hungarian and Muscovite arms and armour. Three horses with their riders in full attire formed the centre of the installation: two were designated as türggisch (i.e. Turkish), one as hungerisch (Hungarian). The inventory notes that two of the horses – the Hungarian and an Ottoman – carried çapraks that in the description are very similar to nos. 1 and 2 (keeping in mind that the fringes of no. 2 were a later addition and that it originally had metal threads in the fringes): ‘…a cover, of gold, silver, silk of various colours too, woven [gewürkht], with fringes of gold, silver and red’18 on the Hungarian horse, and ‘…a cover, patterned with gold, silver and several silks, with fringes in silk gold and silver’ on the Ottoman, the türggisch horse.19 Even though designated as a Hungarian, it might well be that the horse was decorated with an Ottoman çaprak. No strict military uniform system existed yet and large parts of Hungarian lands were under Ottoman rule then. Transylvanian princes dressed Ottoman kaftans, so did the emperor himself.20 In addition to that, once the room was ready Ferdinand might have chosen quite freely from his collection. The çaprak of the third horse, whose decoration was gifted to the Archduke by Schwendi, is described as ‘…a saddle cloth woven in gold and silk’, which rather corresponds to the golden saddle cloth including the Italian textile also 16 Luchner 1958; Notzing 1735. 17 Boeheim 1888, pp. CCCXXVI–CCCXIII. 18 Ibidem, p. CCLXXIV, fol. 331v. 19 Ibidem, p. CCLXXV, fol. 333v. 20 Kurz 1977, p. 8. Full-length portrait of Emperor Mathias as King of Bohemia: Hans von Aachen, Prague, Sbírky Pražského hradu (Collections of the city of Prague), Atasoy and Uluç 2012, pp. 33–109. 207 The Ambassadors of Dialogue preserved in the MAK than to piece no. 3 discussed above.21 Çaprak no. 3 could not be clearly identified in the 1596 inventory but might have been attached to another of the many saddles of the Tükenkammerl; or it was integrated later, for it also seems stylistically somewhat more geometrised and less sophisticated then the other two. The inventory of the Ambras Rüstkammer from 1603 mentions the same three çapraks on horses.22 In any case, the highly probable identification of the three çapraks in question with the 1596 inventory provides a terminus ante quem for their production. Under Ferdinand’s successors the Ambras Rüstkammer underwent minor changes as Ferdinand had wanted it to stay together as it was. However, in the course of the war of the Spanish succession (1701–1714) the Bavarian army took from Ambras what had not already been rescued in 1703. The collection suffered but it soon returned to Ambras, however in a fragmented state. After recovering the remains, the collection was newly arranged and inventoried in 1730 and 1788.23 The first volume of the 1788 inventory lists in the outer armoury two richly decorated çapraks, possibly from the former Ambras’ Hungarian and Ottoman horses (nos. 1 and 2 discussed here); however the document linked them to the Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha.24 The inventory provides insight into an altered collection, the division into the different rooms is not as clear as before. It was neither possible to clearly identify the Hungarian nor the Ottoman armour on horseback, which might have been partly destroyed or lost during the Bavarian occupation. The çapraks seem to have been reattributed later to the armour after Sokollu Mehmed Pasha, one of the most famous Grand Viziers of Ottoman history, who was originally present in the Armamentarium Heroicum in the form of a zischagge helmet attributed to him. The reattribution of objects, especially those of Islamic origin, was a common practice in the Habsburg’s collection during the eighteenth century. Most often the provenances were fabricated in the context of the siege of Vienna in 1683, which was gloriously exploited by the Habsburg propaganda machine, even though almost all the booty was taken to Poland by King Jan III Sobieski (r. 1674–1696).25 The new attribution of Ottoman objects in Habsburg possession of the collection corrected history and heightened the prestige of the dynasty.26 In Ambras however, it was probably an attempt to merely reconstruct the former glory of the famous Rüstkammer that led to the new placement. 208 21 MAK. inv. no. T 9132, it also came to the MAK from the Ambras collection as inv. no. KK 6540. During a visit in December 2012, Mr Mathias Pfaffenbichler, head of the Rüstkammer, told me that the Schwendi Rüstung today was without a saddle cloth. The MAK cover can likely be identified with the description in the inventory. 22 Luchner 1958, pp. 129–130. 23 Roschmann 1730; Primisser 1788. 24 Ibidem. I thank Thomas Kuster for providing information on this entry. 25 Sobieski 1986. 26 Hummelberger 1969; Hummelberger 1970; Karl 2011. Barbara Karl s Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting The Napoleonic wars again forced the Ambras collection to travel. In 1806 it was brought to Vienna and consequently put on display in the lower Belvedere.27 Again the order of the collection was altered. In 1819, Primisser still describes the two çapraks as part of the arms and harness attributed to Sokollu Mehmed Pasha.28 The çapraks remained attributed to Pasha also in the 1821 description.29 In the following inventories and publications there are discrepancies as to where the çapraks were stored; they also found new placements. In addition, it was there that the four saddle cloths today in the MAK were mentioned together for the first time. While the inventories list them among household goods and embroideries, the publications, such as Sackens’, do not list them at all.30 In 1940 in the midst of the World War II the çapraks were finally taken out of their Rüstkammer context, possibly because they were not attributed to any of the armours anymore, and entered the MAK collection. This study attempted not only to integrate the çapraks stylistically into the Ottoman courtly production of the second half of the sixteenth century, it also reconstructed parts of the biography of at least two of them (nos. 1 and 2) from their first mention in the 1596 inventory of Ambras castle to their current location in the textile department of the MAK. This itinerary very well illustrated how their use and meaning has changed over time. From representative decorations for horses, for instance at official Ottoman processions, they became part of a propagandistic installation of objects commemorating the deeds of a Habsburg Archduke in the late sixteenth century. They were exhibited among booty pieces even though it is more likely that they were diplomatic gifts. By changing the order of the display their meaning was adapted to the circumstances. Later, still in the Ambras collection, they were stored with valuable and exotic embroideries and boxed in Vienna’s Belvedere castle. Finally they were integrated into museums, first the Kunsthistorisches Museum and then the MAK, and became objects of scholarly interest. In this way they are not only splendid representatives of the blossoming Ottoman arts of the second half of the sixteenth century but also illustrate the history of one of the most famous collections of its time, Ferdinand’s Rüstkammer at Ambras castle. d 27 Primisser 1819; Sacken 1855. 28 Primisser 1819, p. 51. 29 Verzeichnis von 1821, Aufstellung im Belvedere (Manuscript in the KHM Kunstkammer). I thank Thomas Kuster for information regarding this inventory. 30 Inventory of 1875/77, saddle cloths in cupboard XV, among: Hausgeräthe, Stickereien, Kästchen, Frauengünste, No. 78b, p. 320. I thank Thomas Kuster for the information regarding this inventory. See also: Sacken 1855, vol. 1, pp. 209–211 and vol. 2, pp. 136–195. 209 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Archives: Inventory of 1821: Verzeichnis der Aufstellung im Belvedere, Vienna: 1821 (Manuscript today in the Kunstkammer of the Kunsthistorisches Museum). Inventory of 1875/77: Theil Inventar über die zum beweglichen Fideikomiss: Vermögen des a.d. Erzhauses gehörige von dem k.k. Oberstkämmerstabe verwahrte,k.k. Ambraser Sammlung, Vienna: 1875/77 (Manuscript today in the Kunstkammer of the Kunsthistorisches Museum). Primisser 1788 Johann Primisser, Inventarium der k.k. Ambraser Sammlung vom Jahre 1788, Bd. I-III. Innsbruck 1788 (Manuscript today in the Kunsthistorisches Museum). Roschmann 1730 Anton Roschmann, Inventarium der Ambraser Sammlung. Innsbruck 1730 (Manuscript today in the Kunsthistorisches Museum). Publications: Atasoy et al. 2001 Nurhan Atasoy, Walter Denny, Louise Mackie et al., Ipek: the Crescent & the Rose Imperial Ottoman Silks and Velvets. London 2001. Atasoy and Uluç 2012 Nurhan Atasoy, Lale Uluç, Impressions of Ottoman Culture in Europe: 1453–1699. Istanbul 2012. Atil 1987 Esin Atil, The Age of Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent. Washington 1987. Boeheim 1888 Wendelin Boeheim (ed.), ‘Urkunden und Regesten aus der k. u. k. Hofbibliothek’, in: Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses, VII/2, 1888, pp. XCI– CCCXIII. Denny 1972 Walter B. Denny, ‘Ottoman Turkish Textiles’, in: Textile Museum Journal, vol. III, no. 3 (1972), pp. 55–66. Denny and Krody 2012 Walter B. Denny, Belger Sumru Krody, The Sultan’s Garden: The Blossoming of Ottoman Art. Washington 2012. Fragner, Kauz, Ptak and Schottenhammer 2010 Bert Fragner, Ralph Kauz, Roderich Ptak and Angela Schottenhammer (eds.), Pferde in Asien: Geschichte, Handel und Kultur. Horses in Asia: History, Trade and Culture. Wien 2010 (Denkschriften der philosophisch-historischen Klasse, 378 / Veröffentlichungen zur Iranistik, 46). Hummelberger 1969 Walter Hummelberger, ‘Die Türkenbeute im Historischen Museum der Stadt Wien: Das 17. Jahrhundert’, in: Vaabenhistoriske aarbøger, XV (1969), pp. 11–97. 210 Barbara Karl s Diplomatic Gifts and Collecting Hummelberger 1970 Walter Hummelberger, ‘Die Türkenbeute im Historischen Museum der Stadt Wien: Das 18. und 19. Jahrhundert’, in: Vaabenhistoriske aarbøger, XVI (1970), pp. 8–94. Johnson 2011 Carina L. Johnson, Cultural Hierarchy in Sixteenth Century Europe: The Ottomans and Mexicans. Cambridge 2011. Karl 2011 Barbara Karl, Treasury-Kunstkammer-Museum: Objects from the Islamic World in the Museum Collections of Vienna. Vienna 2011 (Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, 822 / Veröffentlichungen zur Iranistik, 62). Klose 1993 Christine Klose, ‘A Persian Tapestry Carpet in a Painting of 1634’, in: Oriental Rug Review, 13, no. 4 (1993), pp. 30–32. Kurz 1977 Otto Kurz, The Decorative Arts of Europe and the Islamic East. The Arts of Europe and Islam. London 1977. Luchner 1958 Laurin Luchner, Denkmal eines Renaissancefürsten: Versuch einer Rekonstruktion des Ambraser Museums von 1583. Wien 1958. Mackie 1973 Louise Mackie, The Splendor of Turkish Weaving. Washington 1973. Maury 2010 Charlotte Maury (ed.), À la cour du Grand Turc: Caftans du Palais de Topkapi. Paris 2010. Notzing 1735 Jacob Schrenck von Notzing, Ombraßische Helden-Rüst-Kammer, welche von Ferdinanden, Ertzhertzogen zu Oesterreich, herrlich angerichtet (...).Weigels Wtw. 1735. Petrasch, Sänger and Zimmermann 1991 Ernst Petrasch, Reinhard Sänger, Eva Zimmermann (eds.), Badisches Landesmuseum Karlsruhe. Die Karlsruher Türkenbeute. Die ‘Türckische Kammer’ des Markgrafen Ludwig Wilhelm von Baden-Baden. Die ‘Türckische Curiositaeten’ der Markgrafen von Baden-Durlach. München 1991. Primisser 1819 Alois Primisser, Die Kaiserlich-Königliche Ambraser-Sammlung. Wien 1819. Rudolph 2005 Harriett Rudolph, ‘Türkische Gesandtschaften ins Reich am Beginn der Neuzeit: Herrschaftsinszenie-rung, Fremdheitserfahrung und Erinnerungskultur: Die Gesandtschaft des Ibrahim Bey von 1562’, in: Das Osmanische Reich und die Habsburgermonarchie. Akten des internationalen Kongresses zum 150-jährigen Bestehen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung. Marlene Kurz, Martin Scheuz, Karl Vocelka et al. (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Wien, 22.–25. September 2004. Wien 2005, pp. 295–314. 211 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Sacken 1855 Eduard von Sacken, Die k.k. Ambraser Sammlung, 2 vols. Wien 1855. Sobieski 1986 Jan Sobieski, Briefe an die Königin. Joachim Zeller (ed.). Frankfurt a. Mein 1986. Teply 1976 Karl Teply, ‘Türkische Gesandtschaften nach Wien (1488–1792)’, in: Österreich in Geschichte und Literatur, 20/1 (1976), pp. 17–18. Voltelini 1899 Hans von Voltelini (ed.), ‘Urkunden und Regesten aus dem k.u.k. Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv in Wien’, in: Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses, XX/2, 1899, pp. I–CXXIII. 212 Martina Pall (Schell Collection, Graz) An Etched Iron Cabinet from the Schell Collection \ Gifts as a means of diplomacy have always been an effective measure to make the host appear generous, knowledgeable and worldly. The iron cabinet in the Schell Collection1 (Fig. 1 and 2) is highlighted by the outstanding etchings which appear on all sides of the cabinet (with the exception of the floor), including all of the 13 drawers on the inside. The nearly 70 kg cabinet is constructed of iron plates which are riveted together and connected with screwed-on bars and numerous brass rivets. It can be dated to the mid-sixteenth century. Both door panels are held in place by heavy iron angles with one screw each. Locking is carried out with eight latches on each side. The cover plates on the inside of the locks are probably not from the period. The marks of the locksmith, which can be easily recognized, have been made by the hammering of points for the placement of the lock hooks and latches. The beautifully forged handles decorated with two bearded faces are particularly noteworthy. The solution of the key hole with its curved and rounded arch is also typical for the period of the sixteenth century. There are two chests that are comparable objects to this cabinet, both in their construction and templates. One is located in the Grassi Museum in Leipzig2 (Fig. 3) and the other is at the Museum of Decorative Arts in Berlin3 (Fig. 4). In addition to the large figures in the half-arches, the spandrels of the walls are etched with fine tendrils, in between which are medallions with the depictions of human heads. The handles of the drawers inside are forged similarly to the two carrying handles on the side walls. The original minimum rust protection paint can still be seen in the drawers. 1 Schell Collection, Graz, inv. no. 6422. Dimensions: 46,5 x 31 x 35,5 cm, weight: approx. 70 kg. The cabinet was published in: Pall 2006, cat. 23, p. 28f. 2 Grassi Museum, Leipzig, inv. no. 1908.326. 3 Kunstgewerbemuseum, Berlin, inv. no. 01,61. 213 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. An iron cabinet from the Schell Collection (closed) d Fig. 2. The iron cabinet from the Schell Collection (open) d The two crests on top of the cabinet contributed to the identification: on the left the coat-of-arms of Erich I Duke of Brunswick-Calenberg (1470–1540) and on the right those of his second wife, Elizabeth of Brandenburg (1500–1558). In 1525 the couple were married and for a long time it seemed that the two coats of arms clearly supported the claim that the wedding had to be the reason for the significant gift. Erich I of Brunswick-Calenberg-Göttingen fought for years at the side of Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (r. 1486–1519) and he even saved his life in the Bavarian-Landshut war in 1504. He was knighted by the Emperor for this feat. His second marriage to Elizabeth of Brandenburg finally provided him with his long desired successor (Fig. 5). The Duke died in 1540 at the Reichstag in Hagenau. The body was not handed over to his widow for over a year due to the high debt that he had accumulated. 214 Martina Pall s An Etched Iron Cabinet from the Schell Collection Fig. 3. An iron chest from the collection of the Grassi-Museum in Leipzig d Fig. 4. Chest from the collection of the Kunstgewerbemuseum in Berlin d This cabinet, which was sold in 1996 at an auction house in Germany, came to the Schell Collection through a dealer. It was soon presumed that the templates must have come from the artist Virgil Solis (1514–1562). The inimitable style of the most famous engraver of the time is especially evident in the presentation of the Seven Liberal Arts and here in the representation of the waving cloths and veils that surround the female figures. The military figures on the front of the two cabinet doors pay tribute to the military successes and preferences of the Duke: on the left, ‘Amazian’ and ‘Chedion’ and on the right, ‘Octavianus’ and ‘Alexander’. The etched representation of the Seven Liberal Arts: Artihmetria and Musica, Geometry and Astrology, as well as Gramatica, Rhetorica and Dialectica, can be seen on the back and on the walls. The thirteen drawers on the inside also reveal richly etched decorations with sphinxes, eagles, dragons, angels and lions – each arranged in pairs. The bottom drawer and a frieze on the top show a stag hunt. On the top, the coats of arms of the two spouses are shown. 215 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 5. Eric I, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg, with his second wife, Elizabeth of Brandenburg, ca. 1530 (National Museum in Stockholm, Schloss Gripsholm, NMGrh 606, after: Wikipedia Commons, accessed May 2016) d The templates made by Virgil Solis are easily identifiable. He etched the motif of Seven Liberal Arts on multiple occasions and the general displayed on the front (‘Octavianus’) can be identified in his portraits of kings and commanders. The commanders appear to have ‘emerged after Breus drawings of the Habsburg bloodline... or the series of nine heroes and heroines of Burgkmair from 1516.’4 The hunting scenes on the lower drawer and on the top are parts of often-copied templates which can also be found on other caskets in the Schell Collection. Also attributable to Solis are the farmhand medallions in the spandrels and the fishtail figures between the Seven Liberal Arts. An exceptional feature of this Graz cabinet is the choice of the shape of the cabinet with two door panels and interior drawers. Without exception we know in Graz of no single other iron and etched cabinet and none with such elaborately etched paintings. Such figure-rich etchings from the period 1530–1550 can only be seen on smaller caskets and medium-sized chests. Virgil Solis was a master of both the copper engraving and etching technique, which he begins to make increasing use of beginning in 1550. In contrast to the 4 216 O´Dell-Franke 1977, p. 84. Martina Pall s An Etched Iron Cabinet from the Schell Collection Fig. 6. Copper engraving of ‘Gramatika’, made by Virgil Solis, after 1550 d precise engraving of copper, etching was much faster to accomplish.5 Solis made use of many of the templates of former masters ‘... he took over the motifs and figures of other artists to a degree previously hardly known.’6 This circumstance explains that the series that Solis had created from the Seven Liberal Arts only emerged a few years after the death of the Duke. So now the question arises as to the true authorship of the templates, since the cabinet may have been a wedding gift from 1525. Many of the sample books or single sheets published abroad were known to Virgil Solis and were used by him. Presumably there were Italian ornament engravers of Vitruvius, whose pattern books came to Germany in the first third of the sixteenth century. The German edition, according to which, among others, Solis had also worked, formed the basis of many etching artists who used popular motifs including the Seven Planets and in this case the Seven Liberal Arts. The Tarot cards designed by Andrea Mantegna (ca. 1431–1506), which also represent the Seven Liberal Arts and which are mentioned in the literature as potential role models,7 were created in 1470 5 Ibidem, p. 39. 6 Ibidem, p. 6. 7 Ibidem, p. 109. 217 The Ambassadors of Dialogue and show very static figures with jagged folds. These woodcuts are perhaps templates that Solis was familiar with and transformed by him to his style. They are not the direct models of the etching artists of this cabinet. If one compares the Solis engravings of the Seven Liberal Arts with those of the etched figures on the cabinet, the lack of all of the small and densely packed clouds, the angels and the missing landscape in the lower section become apparent. Only the figures themselves are reproduced with nearly the same detail. Who therefore was the master that Virgil Solis copied and decorated here? Possibilities from the period would include templates by Hans Sebaldus Beham (1500–1550) who Solis knew. Others would be Georg Pencz (1500–1550) who worked in Nuremberg and Leipzig. Pencz, as well as Beham or Heinrich Aldegrever (1502– 1538) also engraved the same motif. To date, no other similar engravings by other copper engravers or etchers have come to light, so it is probable that ‘Solis fell back on other previously unknown templates.’8 The only designs that are extremely similar to those on the cabinet are provided by Solis himself. His version was not made by him, according to Ilse O’Dell-Franke, until the second half of the 1550s, so more than 10 years after the death of the Duke (Fig. 6). If the etched cabinet was not a wedding gift (which the coats of arms of the married couple would support), was it instead a diplomatic gift on the occasion of some other event? Based on the style comparisons, the cabinet is undoubtedly from the mid-sixteenth century as the etching templates also originated from the same period. If the cabinet was produced decades later than the crests on the piece would indicate – was it not a wedding gift or made at least during the lifetime of Duke Erich I which ended in 1540? But why would the coats of arms of the two spouses be etched onto the cabinet later? Elizabeth of Brandenburg, after the death of her husband and as a guardian of her son Erich II who was a minor, pursued the Reformation in the principality. She had contact with Martin Luther and Laurentius Corvinius – perhaps the cabinet was a gift presented to the reformist princess to honour her Lutheran zeal? It is less likely that the cabinet could be a piece from the nineteenth century, when many old techniques were used to recreate objects for the newly founded museums of Applied Arts. Arguments against this would be the formal structure, the fineness of the etchings and style comparisons with original, equally richly etched boxes and chests of the sixteenth century. Unfortunately, research in this area has come to a dead end. The future will show which templates were used here. Undoubtedly the piece shown here is unique and for that an elaborate and ‘modern’ gift that, in addition to its artistic decoration, also had practical utility as a safe and fireproof container for important documents. d 8 218 Imke 2008, p. 153. Martina Pall s An Etched Iron Cabinet from the Schell Collection Bibliography Eberle 1996 Martin Eberle, Bestandskatalog der Sammlung unedler Metalle. Europäisches Kunsthandwerk aus Bronze, Messing, Kupfer und Eisen vom 12. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert. Leipzig 1996. Imke 2008 Harjes Imke, Figurenbände der Renaissance. Entwicklung und Rezeption einer Buchgattung (1533–1600). Weimar 2008. Mundt and Krutish 1989 Schatzkästchen und Kabinettschrank. Möbel für Sammler. Bestandskatalog XIV des Kunstgewerbemuseums und Ausstellungskatalog. Barbara Mundt and Petra Krutisch (eds.). Berlin 1989. O´Dell-Franke 1977 Ilse O´Dell-Franke, Kupferstiche und Radierungen aus der Werkstatt des Virgil Solis. Wiesbaden 1977. Pall 2006 Martina Pall, Versperrbare Kostbarkeiten, Kästchen und Kabinette aus aller Welt. Graz 2006. 219 Jana Bělová (City of Prague Museum) Fragments of the Railings from Saint Ivan’s Tomb \ The remains of Ivan the Recluse (Cz.: Svatý Ivan, 9th c.), who has yet to be officially canonized, and which were hidden from the Hussites in 1422,1 were not found again until 1589 when they were discovered in the Benedictine Monastery in Svatý Jan pod Skalou, not far from Beroun (in today’s Czech Republic).2 And so an obscure monastery became a popular place of pilgrimage for members of the court of Rudolph II and his successors. Ivan’s fame underwent severe tests during the wartime events of the seventeenth century, after which it was mainly restored by Abbot Matouš Sobek of Bílenberk (1618–1675), a Broumov Benedictine monk, the abbot at the Church of Saint Nicholas in Prague’s Old Town, and in Svatý Jan pod Skalou, and later the Archbishop of Prague. On the site of the old Hazmburk church he had a Baroque church built. The man behind these constructions, completed in 1661, was the Italian architect Carlo Lurago (1615–1684). Due to the unstable subsoil, the church’s heavy brick vaulted ceiling had to be replaced with a lighter version in 1711 by Kryštof Dientzenhofer (1655–1722).3 As for the actual tomb of Saint Ivan,4 the current resting place of the remains in the middle of the church and the modifications to the cave where he lived, along with several important places, they are dated from 1729. The tomb then underwent its final modification in 1938.5 We do not know how the tomb looked before these final alterations were carried out. This paper, therefore, is meant to be just a brief introduction to the basic history of the place and the monument there. 1 Ševčík 2010, p. 5. 2 Ibidem. 3 Ibidem, pp. 17–18. 4 The name is so widespread that the author will also use it. Veneration of Saint Ivan is nowadays limited to the place of pilgrimage in Svatý Jan pod Skalou. 5 Ševčík 2010, p. 20. 221 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. The railings around Saint Ivan’s tomb, according to a sketch by Václav Němec photographed by F. Dvořák. The author has written on the sketch the inventory numbers of the fragments preserved by the Museum of Decorative Arts and the City of Prague Museum. After: Němec 1901, tab. XIII d In the City of Prague Museum’s (Muzeum hlavního města Prahy) collection of railings and in the Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague (Uměleckoprůmyslové muzeum v Praze) there are sets of fragments from large baroque railings associated with the Benedictine Monastery in Svatý Jan pod Skalou.6 These railings were intended to surround the tomb of Saint Ivan itself. The railings were able to be identified more closely thanks to an article by the master locksmith Václav Němec in the magazine Časopis přátel starožitností českých v Praze (‘Friends of Czech Antiquities in Prague Magazine’) in 1901 (Fig. 1).7 In his article, Němec mentions that he had a few pieces of iron railing in his Prague workshop on Tomášská Street in Malá Strana. Significant information in the article relates to the fact that the largest section of the railings was allegedly already stored in the Museum of Decorative Arts during Václav 222 6 City of Prague Museum, inv. nos. MMP H 19.682, MMP H 19. 679, MMP H 19. 676, MMP H 19.931 and MMP H 19.933/1-2. According to the inventory books they were bought for the City of Prague Museum’s collections after 1915 from Němec’s estate and the last two numbers were listed as ‘a purchase from Steyr, 1916’. Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague: inv. nos. 14.109, 14.110, 14.111 and 14.114. According to the inventory books they were bought from Václav Němec’s estate in 1915. The set also included railing inv. no. 14.113 but it was discarded. Railing 14.109 is a different type to the other parts stored in both museums, its rendering indicates that it is slightly older. 7 Němec 1901, pp. 153–155. Jana Bělová s Fragments of the railings from Saint Ivan’s tomb Němec’s time. This was the wrought-iron gate dating from 1729, part of which was undoubtedly much older. There is a photograph of the gate in the aforementioned magazine.8 The author has asked about this gate but its existence has not been confirmed by the Museum of Decorative Arts. According to Němec, in 17299 the entire railings underwent restoration and so their appearance was probably changed. They survived in this form until 1857 when they were removed from the church and destroyed by a tradesman from Beroun called Horák.10 Němec himself spoke to eyewitnesses who described the railings as also being enclosed in the upper part.11 According to the description, Němec probably assumed that the tomb was enclosed on all sides. He proposed a reconstruction of the railings which he pieced together according to the parts that had been found. This was also presented in his article at 1:20 scale.12 The master locksmith then also described in words how the railings should look. ‘A benefactor who would collect the remaining parts and use them to make, for example, two pieces of railings on the right and left sides of Saint Ivan’s tomb would be deserving of gratitude.’13 It was also necessary to verify the similarity mentioned in the article with the railings in the Church of Our Lady under the Chain in Prague, belonging to the Order of Maltese Knights. Here indeed is the Chapel of Saint John the Baptist, the patron saint of the order, which is enclosed by high-quality gilt and polychrome railings and some of its fragments really do match the railings in the City of Prague Museum and the Museum of Decorative Arts. The railings are dated precisely to 1661. The Origin of the Railings Regarding the origin of the railings, Václav Němec refers in his article to the second volume of Jan Beckovský’s Poselkyně starých příběhův českých [The Messenger of Old Czech Stories] (1723).14 The text was re-checked to see whether any additional infor- 8 Ibidem, p. 155, tab. XIV. The door in the railings around Saint Ivan’s tomb, photographed by J. F. Langhans, c.k. court photographer in Prague. 9 The date is given on the wrought-iron gate, which was allegedly part of the Museum of Decorative Arts’ collection in 1901. Němec 1901, p. 155. 10 Ibidem. 11 Němec refers to the form of baroque lattice covering of wells (p. 155, for example on Malé Náměstí, i.e. Small Square in Prague). 12 Ibidem, pp. 153–155, tab. XIII. The railings around Saint Ivan’s tomb, according to a sketch by Václav Němec, photographed by F. Dvořák. 13 Ibidem, p. 155. 14 Ibidem, p. 153. 223 The Ambassadors of Dialogue mation that could be gained from it would make it possible to determine the origin of the railings.15 All the information about the railings is part of a longer account about the activities of the Archbishop of Prague, Matouš Sobek of Bílenberk, originally a Broumov Benedictine monk, and later the abbot at the Church of Saint Nicholas in Prague’s Old Town, and also in Svatý Jan pod Skalou. The essential information is tied to the year 1675, which is the year of Sobek’s death. The text is presented as a list of his deeds. There is no doubt that he contributed a lot to the cult of Saint Ivan and the pilgrimage site associated with him. He laid the new foundations for the place of pilgrimage and the modifications to it, including the most sacred parts. For us, this part of the text is the most important: ‘The legate of the King of Spain, sent to Prague to the court of Emperor Rudolph II, by the name of Guilielmus a s. Clemente, called William of Saint Clement, in honour of Saint Ivan had an altar built in this church and had his tomb surrounded and decorated with masterly iron railings.’16 William of Saint Clement was the Spanish ambassador to Prague from 1581 and, unlike his predecessors, he adjusted quite well to his Czech surroundings. He remained single all his life and supported various religious projects.17 He died in Prague in 1608 and was buried in his own tomb in Saint Thomas’s in Malá Strana.18 Information about his visit in Prague was confirmed in the ‘Notes of the Monastery of Saint John under the Rock of the Order of Saint Benedict’.19 It is a sort of brief history of the monastery written in Latin. The final note comes from 1710. Thanks to the chronological arrangement of events it is easy to also find information mentioned by Beckovský. A visit by Ambassador William of Saint Clement in 160020 with the relevant text, which in terms of its content is consistent with Beckovský’s description. This important visit occurred during the time of Jan Chrysostom Kladrubský, who was Abbot in Svatý Jan pod Skalou in the years 1589– 1612.21 It coincided with the first flourishing of the pilgrimage site when the discovery of Saint Ivan’s remains was still a vivid memory. The donation of the railings by William of Saint Clement should not be seen as a matter of diplomatic courtesy but as a gift from a diplomat resulting from his sincere devotion to the Czech saint. The first railings, therefore, were undoubtedly due to the Spanish ambassador at the start 224 15 Beckovský 1888, p. 489. 16 Ibidem, p. 489. 17 Kroužil 2008, pp. 47–54. 18 Ibidem, p. 54. 19 1600: Notitia Monasterii S. Joannis sub Rupe Ord. S. Benedicti. Czech Republic National Archives, AZK f 1-2 II/33 ŘB sv. Jan pod Skalou LIV f1, inv. no. 98, folio 236-240. 20 Ibidem, folio 239. 21 Ševčík 2010, p. 8. Jana Bělová s Fragments of the railings from Saint Ivan’s tomb of the seventeenth century,22 but in view of the similarity to the railings from 1661 in the Church of Our Lady under the Chain in Prague, they must obviously have undergone major repairs not only in 1729 but also before then, in around 1660, during the time of Abbot Sobek. Lurago’s reconstruction of the church was completed at that time. Also the church, the monastery and its fixtures suffered greatly during the invasion by the Swedes in 1634. So the railings were probably altered then which gave the majority of the fragments the form they are preserved in until the present day. It is likely that the same workshop that was responsible for the railings in Prague was also involved in repairing them. d 22 One piece of railing in the Museum of Decorative Arts, no. 14.109, would correspond to the start of the seventeenth century. The ‘eight’ motif is more Renaissance in style, although it is somewhat rustic in its execution. 225 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Archives: 1600: Notitia Monasterii S. Joannis sub Rupe Ord. S. Benedicti. National Archives, AZK f 1-2 II/33 ŘB sv. Jan pod Skalou LIV f1, inv. no. 98 /folio 236-240. Publications: Beckovský 1888 Jan Beckovský, Poselkyně starých příběhův českých, part two, volume 3. Prague 1888. Kroužil 2008 Vojtěch Kroužil, Don Guillén de San Clemente a formování „španělské strany“ na dvoře Rudolfa II. Diss. Charles University. Prague 2008. https://is.cuni.cz/webapps/zzp/download/130018133 (accessed April 2015). Němec 1901 Václav Němec, ‘Mříž kolem hrobu sv. Ivana v kostele sv. Jana Kř. pod Skalou’, in: Časopis přátel starožitností českých v Praze, vol. IX., no. I. Prague 1901, pp. 153–155. Ševčík 2010 Jiří Ševčík, Svatý Jan pod Skalou. Svatojánská společnost 2010. 226 Robert Cassar (Palace Armoury in Valetta, Heritage Malta) The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude \ Amongst the vast collection of weapons and armour of the Order of St. John, now displayed at the Palace Armoury in Valletta, is a massive bronze cannon with an intriguing provenance. This paper examines its arrival in Malta in the early seventeenth century as a diplomatic gift. In a twist of fate, when the Lutheran Landgrave Ludwig V von Hessen-Darmstadt1 (Fig. 1) visited Malta while on his way to the Holy Land, he befriended Alof de Wignacourt (1547–1622), the Catholic Grandmaster of the Order, to whom he later sent this precious memento as a token of gratitude to his host. The Birth of a Relationship Ludwig V’s sojourn was not intended to be either a very long one or one that involved great pomp and circumstance in the presence of the ruler of Malta. It was intended as just a short nautical stopover whilst on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the Christian Holy sites.2 No one would have thought that this brief stay would have created an eternal link between the Hessen-Darmstadts and the Order of St. John. 1 Landgrave Ludwig V von Hessen-Darmstadt (1577–1626) ruled between 1596 and 1616. In 1598, he married Princess Magdalena in Berlin who was the daughter of the elector Johann Georg von Brandenburg (1525–1598). They had 12 children, but on the birth of the last, Magdalena died aged 34 years on May 4th, 1616. This hit Ludwig very hard and so he decided to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in order to console himself. 2 Ludwig’s intention to visit the holy sites provoked great resistance from members of his family and court since it was not common practice for a Lutheran regent to undertake such a pilgrimage. Furthermore, the political situation in the Landgraviate was quite tense as it was on the threshold of the Thirty Years’ War. Being the regent, it was not advisable for him to leave the country for a long period. See Holtze 2011, pp. 90–93. 227 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Lucas Kilian, Portrait of Landgrave Ludwig V von Hessen-Darmstadt, 1615 d Leaving for this long trip on the 1st of August, 1618, he journeyed through Mömpelgard, Besançon, Basel, Lyon, Avignon and Marseilles. A short deviation from Toulon to Madrid brought him face-to-face with Philip III of Spain (r. 1598–1621).3 Back in Toulon, he and his entourage left for Malta on the heavily armed ship ‘San Francesco’4 and sailed through the corsair-infested waters of the Mediterranean. Arriving on the 1st of February, 1619, Ludwig landed in Malta with the intention of consulting the head of the Order of St. John, the Roman Catholic Grandmaster Alof de Wignacourt (r. 1601–1622) to seek advice as to whether to proceed on his journey to the East. He was convinced that he would do this incognito of his identity.5 On his third day on the island, Ludwig met Aloph de Wignacourt who was residing at a country residence, the Verdala Palace, some 12 kilometres away from Valletta. The latter had already been informed of Ludwig’s identity by the German knights of the Order even before he had set foot on land. The Grandmaster received this distinguished guest with due courtesy after which Ludwig was driven with grand style into Valletta, the capital city, where he was offered accommodation in the Grandmaster’s Palace until the end of his stay. 228 3 Galea 2002, p. 133. 4 The ship carried 26 cannons. 5 Holtze 2011, pp. 94–95. Robert Cassar s The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude Fig. 2. Armoury in Gießen, where ‘Der Helffant’ was first located in 1600 and from where it started its journey to Malta in 1619 (photo by Manfred Holtz) d During his meeting with Wignacourt, Ludwig discussed the question that had been most troubling him; whether or not to continue his journey to Jerusalem? Wignacourt strongly opposed his wishes as he feared that Ludwig would be captured and abducted by corsairs since the Mediterranean was threatened at the time by Ottoman corsairs. To further convince him, Wignacourt recounted the event of the abduction of the young Count Georg Albrecht von Erbach (1597–1647) who, after visiting Malta in May 1617, was assailed by corsairs and taken to Tunis. It was only after paying a huge ransom, through the mediation of Wignacourt himself, that the Count was released.6 Ludwig took the Grandmaster’s advice and on 20th of February, 1619, he left Malta to Syracuse, then to Naples via Messina on board one of two armed galleys of the Order.7 During his three-week stay on the island, he was greatly impressed by the newly built fortifications and the way of life of the Order and its achievements. After meeting Pope Paul V (p. 1605–1621) while in Rome, on his arrival to Darmstadt on 7th of May, 1619, Ludwig gave presents to all those who had accompanied and helped him in one way or another throughout his journey. However, for Grandmaster Wignacourt he planned to give him a very special gift that outstood all the rest. 6 Galea 1986, p. 48. 7 Holtze 2011, p. 98. 229 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 4. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon, detail of cherub relief (photo by Robert Cassar) d Fig. 3. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon made by Jacob Rotenberger, 1600 (photo by Robert Cassar) d The ‘Der Helffant’ Cannon as a Diplomatic Gift In return for the unexpected cordiality and hospitality, Ludwig decided to send to Malta a large and heavy bronze cannon that was also the centrepiece of the Gießen armoury (Fig. 2). This very precious diplomatic gift was not simply an ornamental piece. Even though highly decorated, it was also a practical military object to help defend the island of the Order of St. John. This diplomatic gift was intended by the Landgrave to leave a big impact on Wignacourt once it was received, and would have purposely shown gratitude and thanks for receiving him while showing great concern for Ludwig’s safety. The expense of casting such a large cannon and the cost of its transport from the Gießen armoury to Valletta indicate the great importance of this gift.8 This fine piece of artillery, better known as the ‘Der Helffant’ (Fig. 3), was commissioned in 1600 by Ludwig IV von Hessen-Marburg (1537–1604) and be- 8 230 Grandmaster Wignacourt had several similarly large cannons cast earlier on in preparation for the eventuality of another Ottoman siege of the island. Robert Cassar s The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude Fig. 5. Baptismal Font, Lutheran Parish Church of St. Mary, Marburg (photo by Axel Wellinghoff; www.marburg-impressionen.de) d came his special centrepiece.9 Ludwig’s sense of altruism is greatly noted in the fact that Ludwig sent his centrepiece from the Gießen armoury and not any other cannon. He saw that Wignacourt was in dire need of weapons to defend the island which had been constantly under attack by the Ottomans. Ludwig not only wanted to show his gratitude but wanted to contribute to Malta’s safety.10 Most surely during their encounter, Wignacourt had stressed the fact that following the sieges of 1565 and 1614, it was imperative that he continued to fortify and arm the island with weapons and artillery for better defense.11 9 The cannon passed into the possession of Ludwig V from his uncle who died childless and who bequeathed to him the landgraviate of Hessen-Marburg and the city of Gießen. 10 The engraved inscription with the dedication on the cannon made by Ludwig clearly specified this. ‘… ACERBE SENTIAT HANE HOSTIS, FAE, PIE CHRISTE, TUUS…’, which literally means, may the enemy of the pious Christian bitterly feel the shot of this cannon. 11 Several cannons were made during Wignacourt’s rule and a better equipped Palace Armoury was established in 1604 inside the Grandmaster’s Palace in Valletta. 231 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 6. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon, detail of Hessian coat-of-arms (photo by Robert Cassar) d The journey to transport this cannon was quite an eventful one. The persons in charge had to make their way through canals that were in private lands and most of the time had to pay hefty sums of money in order to proceed.12 The very long journey started off via Frankfurt and Amsterdam, then to Livorno and Messina and finally to Malta by sea.13 In a letter dated July 1619, purposely written in florid French for Wignacourt to read, the Landgrave wrote that he was donating the cannon to Wignacourt as a sign of gratitude and lasting friendship.14 The cannon only arrived in August 1620 with the trip taking more than a year. This was received by Jacob Christoph von Andlau, Lieutenant to the Grand Bailiff of the German Langue, an acquaintance of the Landgrave who presented it to the Grandmaster on the Landgrave’s behalf.15 The Cannon16 The cannon’s decoration, which was cast using the lost wax technique, is particularly interesting. For instance, the cascabel is in the shape of a loop and takes the form of a gro- 232 12 Carrying large items such as this cannon was almost an impossible deed at that time due to the poor quality of many of the countryside tracks. 13 Rödel 1980, p. 175. 14 July of 1619: Lettere dei Diversi Sovrani. Archive Order of Malta 57: f. 152-152v. 15 Galea 2002, p. 136. 16 The cannon has a muzzle calibre diameter of 7 inches (18 cm). Its length is 370 cm from muzzle to cascabel. Its width at the trunnions is 84cm while it weighs between five and six tonnes. Robert Cassar s The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude Fig. 7. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon, detail of Hessian lions (photo by Robert Cassar) d Fig. 8. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon, detail of elephant relief (photo by Robert Cassar) d tesque bearded man.17 The breech face around the loop has cold-worked cross-hatching decorations, diagonal lines in relief and other foliage patterns. On the vent field, split on either side of the touchhole is the inscription, ‘GOSMICHIACOB ROTENBERGER’ [Jacob Rotenberger made me]. The touchhole, which is spiked, had an iron bushing inserted indicating that the cannon was fired several times and thus needed repair to the widened vent hole. The first reinforce bears a band of acanthus foliage with the faces of five cherubs at intervals in relief (Fig. 4). These are surrounded with cold-carved pitted decorations. The same cherub relief has been used by the same founder on the bowl of a baptismal font (Fig. 5) of the Lutheran parish church of St. Mary in Marburg dated 1596. Except for this font, Jacob Rotenberger’s work is almost unknown.18 From an inventory of 1784 concerning the guns in the arsenal of Gotha, a field-gun with Hessian coat-of-arms dated 1597 and cast by Rotenberger is mentioned.19 17 This loop is slightly bent sideways and is surely a casting defect where the mould moved during the casting. 18 An examination of Jacob Rotenberger’s known works, one can deduce that he was an artillery founder but would have cast ecclesiastical objects such as this font and bells. In fact, the shape of the font clearly indicated that he was well versed in the casting of hollow objects. 19 ‘1597. Feldschlage mit Hessischem Wappen von Jacob Rotberger gegossen‘; brought to my attention by Dr. Stefan Heinz, Université de Luxembourg. 233 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 9. The ‘Der Helffant’ cannon displayed in the open air and subject to human abrasion, ca. 1950s d On the vent field of the cannon is a high relief and elaborate Hessian coat-ofarms set in a square cartouche around the barrel (Fig. 6). On top is the inscription ‘IGGIAN’, meaning ‘Ich Getrau Gott In Aller Not’ [I trust in God in all times of need]. It was the motto of Landgrave Ludwig IV von Hessen-Marburg. Beneath the shield are the letters ‘LL ZH’ referring to ‘Ludwig Landgraf Zu Hessen’ and the date 1600 below, the year of its manufacture. The second reinforce has its two handles or dolphins which take the shape of two lions, the symbol of the House of Hesse (Fig. 7). Below are the trunnions which are decorated on the faces with a rosette in low relief. The chase has two bands of acanthus foliage in relief found at both ends. The centre of the chase bears the high relief image of a Gothicized elephant with the inscription in gothic script, ‘DER HELFFANT’ (Fig. 8) above. Below is a cold engraved inscription20 with the dedication of this diplomatic gift dated 20 234 Engraved after the casting. Much of this inscription and most of the relief is heavily abraded with the loss of much of the cast and carved detail, in some areas exposing porosity to the surface. This has happened because for the past hundred years this work and other pieces of artillery have been displayed as war trophies in front of public buildings. The ‘Der Helffant’ last stood in front of the Co-Cathedral of St. John in Valletta where visitors climbed onto these guns as if they were in a playground. In 2007, Heritage Malta moved all the bronze guns that lay outside and put them on display inside its museums. Robert Cassar s The Story of a Cannon: Diplomacy, Friendship and Gratitude 1619, made when it was chosen to be sent to Wignacourt.21 Separating the heavy banded muzzle is a further low relief with grotesque faces intertwined amongst tendrils while the muzzle face has a low relief with acanthus leaves (Fig. 9).22 Conclusion The story of the ‘Der Helffant’ does not end here however. This artistic piece lay for some time in front of the Grandmaster’s Palace and was later transferred to St. Sebastian’s Curtain.23 When the British took over the island in 1800, old and obsolete artillery were gathered and sometime around the 1830s the decorative pieces of artillery left Malta and were sent to Woolwich Arsenal in England. It was on the insistence of General Sir John Lintorn Simmons, the then Governor of Malta, that thirteen of those cannons were sent back in 1888. Amongst these was the ‘Der Helffant’.24 This diplomatic gift from the Palace Armoury collection is a truly intriguing story of friendship and altruism between two heads of state who, thanks to Wignacourt’s hospitality and Ludwig’s gratitude, consolidated the relationship between the HessenDarmstadts family and the Order of St. John, which continued long on after their demise.25 d 21 ‘CATTORUM PRINCEPS PERERANS. LUDOVIEUS AMOENA. GALLIAE ET HISPANI REGNA OPULENTA SOLI, VENERAT IN MELITEN PELAGO; SUSCEPTUS HONORE MAGNO, PERMANGIS OBRUTUS AE MERITIS, PER MARE, SICILIA VISÂ ITALIÆQUE PER ARVA IN PARTIUM UT REDIIT, SALVUS ET INCOLUMIS, MOLEUM HANC BELLINGERAM, MELITENSI EQUITUM ORDINI UT ESSET. GRATI ANIMI SIGNUM, FIRMÆ ET AMICITIÆ, GIESSIDE DE CASTRO DONATAM MISSIT – ACERBE SENTIAT HANE HOSTIS, FAE, PIE CHRISTE, TUUS, ACTUM ANNO CHRISTE MDCXIX’. 22 The cannon carries various punched numbers, that correspond to different inventory numbers that were made during the Order’s period and the British period in Malta (19th century) respectively. Cassar 2007. 23 A section of fortifications run by the Bavarian Langue that protected the inlet to Valletta’s Marsamxett Harbour. 24 The Malta Times and Malta Service Gazette, 22 March 1889: 3; Parnis 1994, p. 55. 25 One of Ludwig’s sons, Friedrich von Hessen-Darmstadt came to Malta and was so impressed by the Order that he converted to Catholicism and became a knight. He started off as a Captain of the Order’s Galleys, later becoming Cardinal of the Catholic Church and finally the Bishop of Breslau. 235 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Cassar 2007 Robert Cassar, Thirteen Bronze Cannons, Condition on Removal from Exterior Environment. Condition Assessment Report (Internal Report). Heritage Malta 2007. Galea 1986 Michael Galea, German Knights of Malta A Gallery of Portraits. Malta 1986. Galea 2002 Michael Galea, Grandmaster Aloph de Wignacourt 1601–1622. Malta 2002. Holtze 2011 Manfred Holtze, ‘Die Reise des Landgrafen Ludwig V. von Hessen-Darmstadt nach Malta (1618–1619)’, in: Jahrbuch der Hessischen Kirchengeschichtlichen Vereinigung (JHKV), 62 (2011), pp. 87–106. Parnis 1994 Eric Parnis, ‘Cannon of Bronze’ in: Treasures of Malta, 1 (1) 1994, pp. 55–59. Rödel 1980 Walter G. Rödel, ‘Der Helffant – ein hessisches Geschütz auf Malta’, in: Archiv für hessische Geschichte und Altertumskunde Neue Folge, 38 (1980), pp. 167–179. 236 Kay Douglas Smith (Independent scholar) The Iron Keys of Riga: Cannon, Diplomacy and Tudor Policy in the Baltic \ Introduction In the collections of the Maritime Museum in Lisbon is a cast-iron cannon, dated 1576, and marked with the initials ‘II’, the number ‘1-3-1-0’ and a shield with crossed keys (Fig. 1-3).1 The bore is approximately 9 cm diameter (3½ inches). The catalogue of the collection states that it was given by Pope Gregory XIII (p. 1572–1585) to Philip II of Spain (r. 1556–1598), interpreting the keys as the symbols of the pontifical state of St. Peter. The catalogue suggests that the piece was one of the many cannon acquired by John IV of Portugal (Port.: João IV, r. 1640–1656) in 1640 during the wars of restoration from whence it made its way into the collection of the Maritime Museum. However almost everything about this identification is wrong. The gun itself has a complex cascable consisting of a number of convex mouldings tapering down to a long, tubular button decorated with two simple mouldings. Just forward of the base ring is a small moulding followed by a wider, more complex moulding. The vent field is narrow with a roll moulding and two fillets at the front. The vent is a simple hole. The main part of the barrel is divided into three sections. The first, at the rear, ends with a large rectangular moulding with a small fillet either side of it followed by a small moulding. The central section, which is very slightly smaller diameter that the first, is marked by a concave groove, a simple roll moulding followed by another, small moulding and another annular groove. The trunnions are parallel sided and set very low. The chase tapers to the muzzle. There are two mouldings at the front of the chase consisting of a roll moulding with a fillet either side. The muzzle flares out and the front consists of three step mouldings. The bore and the weight, 1310 lbs (595 kg) suggest that it is a minion. 1 Museu de Marinha, Lisbon, accession number AR-V-24. 237 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. The cannon in the Maritime Museum in Lisbon, accession number AR-V-24 d Fig. 2. Detail of cascable which shows great similarity to English cannon cast in the later sixteenth century d Fig. 3. The top of the first reinforce – at the top is the date ‘1576’, then the crossed keys in a shield, next are the initials ‘II’ and finally the weight ‘1-3-1-0’ d Identification The key to unlocking the identification of this piece begins with the weight marks: the engraved numbers ‘1-3-1-0’. The presence and format of the weight mark clearly indicates that this gun was at some point in England and it is safe to assume, given the date engraved on the gun and its general pattern, that it was in fact cast in England. Though earlier pieces are known, the production of cast-iron cannon in any quantity and uniformity was not perfected till 1543 when a number of founders, possibly both French and English, collaborated in the south of England. From this date, the area known as the Weald in southern England became a dominant producer of cast-iron cannon. Over the following decades, others tried to copy this innovation, notably in Germany, Flanders and Sweden, but the English held a virtual monopoly in the production of cast-iron ordnance until the rise of Swedish 238 Kay Douglas Smith s The Iron Keys of Riga industry in the 1620s. Comparison with other English guns of the period confirms this identification that this piece was cast in the Weald in southern England. A number of similar cast-iron guns have survived, some dated and some from dateable contexts. These include two guns dated 1577. The first is from a ship, possibly of Spanish origin, wrecked on the Western Ledge Reef, Bermuda, whose weight is 500 pounds – probably a falcon or falconet.2 The second gun, raised from the River Dart close to Kingswear Castle, opposite Dartmouth, Devon, is marked with the weight of 14 hundredweight and it is more likely to be a minion or saker.3 Three similar guns were recovered from a wreck off Sicily, tentatively identified as Genoese merchant ship, lost in the 1570s. Control of the Gun Trade in England By 1573, the cast-iron gunfounding industry in England had grown from a single furnace to a business involving several works and founders, selling guns to the English government as well as private individuals in England and merchants and governments abroad. After the Queen’s founder, Ralph Hogg, complained in 1573 that guns were being exported without a licence and could therefore fall into enemy hands, the Privy Council attempted to control the industry by forcing founders and landlords to deposit bonds of £2,000.4 The 1574 regulations included instructions that all castiron guns had to be delivered to Tower Wharf in London and every piece had to be surveyed and marked.5 This was the first of the English government’s attempts to control the export by marking guns, although the number of times these instructions were repeated suggests the laws were often ignored. The laws passed in 1576 included instructions to mark both new and existing cannon which might explain why we have three iron guns dated 1576 or 1577.6 Orders issued in 1578 repeated that all guns had to be marked and that unmarked guns would be seized.7 Although other nations were also keen to establish a gunfounding industry, only England at this period were successful in establishing a network of furnaces and founders able to successfully cast enough cast-iron guns not only for their own use, but to sell, first to their own nation and later abroad. The reason for the passing of the laws to control the gun export was precisely to stop them falling into the hands of Pope Gregory or Philip of Spain. 2 Watts 1993, p. 115. 3 http://www.xrsouthern.co.uk/steveclarkson/DartCannonSite24022012nofinance.pdf (accessed September 2015). 4 Crosby 1880, pp. 474–476. 5 Barter Bailey 2003, p. 53. 6 Teesdale 1984, p. 62. 7 Barter Bailey 2003, pp. 54 and 57. 239 The Ambassadors of Dialogue But what about the attribution to Pope Gregory XIII? It is extremely unlikely that the Pope would have been able to legally acquire guns from England – especially at a time when the authorities were anxious to control the export of cast-iron cannon to anyone except their friends – and a friend of England the Pope was very definitely not. His foreign policy, though directed to the threat from the Ottomans in the East, was consistently directed to the dangers from the rise of Protestantism which was spreading across Europe at the time. Indeed, he was on very good terms with Philip II of Spain and encouraged the king’s intentions to dethrone Queen Elizabeth I (r. 1558– 1603) and he helped to develop an atmosphere of subversion and imminent danger among English Protestants, who looked on any Roman Catholic as a potential traitor. His interventions went even further. For example, in 1578 he financed an expedition under Thomas Stukeley (ca. 1520–1578) consisting of a ship and 800 men to land in Ireland to help Irish Catholics in their fight against the Protestant plantations. These plans came to nothing as Stukely joined his forces with those of King Sebastian I of Portugal (Port.: Sebastião I, r. 1557–1578) against Emperor Abu Marwan Abd al-Malik I (r. 1576–1578) of Morocco instead. Undeterred, Gregory financed another expedition in 1579 to Ireland with 50 soldiers under the command of James Fitzmaurice Fitzgerald (d. 1579), accompanied by Nicholas Sanders (ca. 1530–1581) as papal legate. All of the soldiers and sailors on board, as well as the women and children who accompanied them, were beheaded or hanged on landing in Kerry, in the Smerwick Massacre. Gregory also encouraged and patronized colleges and seminaries on the Continent for Irish and English Catholics. So, if the gun was not cast for the Pope, for what purpose was this particular piece cast? In other words who else used keys on their shields and was friendly enough to Queen Elizabeth to have this gun cast? The crossed keys were also the shield of Riga, one of the free cities on the Baltic Sea and it was for this city that this gun was cast. The city had written to Queen Elizabeth in July 1575, desiring ‘permission for their agent, Israel Janson, to purchase artillery and munitions in England, and to export them thence for their aid against the Muscovites’.8 This brings in the possibility that it is the initials of the exporter, Israel Janson, another ‘II’, which was recorded, rather than the gunfounder, John Johnson to whom this gun is normally attributed to. The marks may indicate who is responsible for the gun rather than the actual maker. That this piece was exported to Riga is supported by the fact that, in 1576, a licence was granted to export ‘salt, groceries, cloth, and other goods... to Riga by John Nycolson, Israel Johnson, John Lendall and Nicholas Cocke’.9 Israel Johnson is most probably the same Israel Janson referred to above. 240 8 Crosby 1880, p. 237. 9 The National Archives, London, sign. TNA, E 133/2/329. Kay Douglas Smith s The Iron Keys of Riga The 1570s were a turbulent period for Livonia and the Baltic as well as for PolishLithuanian Commonwealth. The Tsar, Ivan IV the Terrible (r. 1547–1584), invaded Livonia in 1576, taking it all except for the towns of Reval and Riga. Both towns had improved their fortifications in the early 1570s and it is probable that they needed more ordnance to mount on them. At this time too, relations between England and the Tsar were not going well, after a positive start. An exchange of ambassadors between the two courts had resulted in tentative agreements on trading privileges. However early in the 1570s relations deteriorated mainly due to misunderstandings between the Tsar and the Queen, the former thinking that the Queen was not ‘royal enough’. In October 1576, the Tsar’s representative wrote to the Queen: ‘... the visits of different Englishmen to Russia during the reigns of Edward VI and Queen Mary and the good treatment and special privileges accorded to them. Complains that in the negotiations conducted by Randolphe in Russia and with his own ambassador Andreas Gregorivitz Saurin in England, “bowrishness” and the affairs of merchants have been preferred to his own princely affairs. Had thought that she had been ruler over her land, but now perceives that other men rule, and not men but boors and merchants, who seek not the weal and honour of their sovereigns but their own profit of merchandise, “and you flow in your maidenly estate like a maid.” Will give commandment that all those privileges given aforetime to the English merchants be from this day of none effect. – Moscow. Since the foundation of the world, 7079, 24 Oct.’10 It is clear that the English government used its control of the gun trade as part of its diplomatic policy. Export was permitted to states that the Crown supported or with whom they were on friendly terms and licences to export cannon to the Netherlands, Denmark and French Protestants were allowed while exports to Spain were forbidden.11 A particularly interesting example occurred in 1599 when the Queen allowed the town of Emden to buy 24 cast-iron guns since they had ‘in times of dearth done good service by sending us corn.’12 A request from Riga to the Crown of England at this time would have met with favour and a licence granted. Although I hope you agree with the solving of a number of the mysteries of this piece’s identity, there is still no explanation of how a cannon cast for one of the most northerly cities in Europe in the 1570s, ended up in one of Europe’s most southerly cities. I am open to suggestions! d 10 Crosby 1880, pp. 224–240. 11 Brown 2011, pp. 99–100. 12 Ibidem, p. 100. 241 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Bibliography Archives: The National Archives, London, sign. TNA, E 133/2/329. Publications: Barter Bailey 2003 Sarah Barter Bailey, ‘Early Attempts to Control the Export of Cast-Iron Guns and the Market on Tower Hill’, in: Journal of the Ordnance Society, 15 (2003), pp. 53–69. Brown 2011 Ruth R. Brown, ‘“A Jewel of Great Value”: English Iron Gunfounding and Its Rivals, 1550–1650’, in: Ships and Guns. The Sea Ordnance in Venice and Europe between the 15th and 17th Centuries. Carlo Beltrame and Renato Gianni Ridella (eds). Oxford – Oakville 2011, pp. 98–105. Crosby 1880 Calendar of State Papers. Foreign Series of the Reign of Elizabeth, 1575–1577. Vol. 11. Allan James Crosby (ed.). London 1880. Teesdale 1984 Edmund Teesdale, The Queen’s Gunstonemaker. An Account of Ralph Hogge Elizabethan Ironmaster and Gunfounder. Seaford 1984. Watts 1993 Gordon P. Watts, ‘The Western Ledge Reef Wreck: A Preliminary Report on Investigation of the Remains of a 16th-Century Shipwreck in Bermuda’, in: The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 22 (1993), no. 2, pp. 103–124. 242 Petra Krutisch (Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg) Between Pride and Suspicion. Lothar Franz von Schönborn and the Lohr Mirror Manufactory circa 17001 \ In the year 1698, the French glassmakers Pierre Bernard de St. Pierre, Louis Truffé and Guillaume de Brument opened a mirror manufactory in Lohr am Main in Lower Franconia. It was the second mirror works in German lands. All three men had been obliged, for political reasons, to leave the factory in Neustadt (Dosse) in the electorate of Brandenburg that had been established two years earlier. In Lohr, they received the financial support of Lothar Franz von Schönborn (1655–1729), Elector of Mainz and territorial prince of the region. (Fig. 1).2 He provided a major part of the necessary start-up capital and received, in return, among other privileges, the first right of purchase for the entire production. In that way, he also controlled who might acquire these extremely valuable and highly desirable luxury goods – insofar, as he was not utilizing them himself in his personal building projects!3 The plate glass needed for the production of mirrors was manufactured in the nearby village of Rechtenbach. The French glass specialists had bought a recently abandoned glassworks there and outfitted it with new furnaces and casting machines based on the French model. The further treatment of the cast plate glass, namely the grinding and application of reflective foil, took place in Lohr itself. The sales and distribution were also organized from Lohr, in large part because of the good transport options via the Main and Rhine all the way to the flourishing international trading centre of Amsterdam. 1 This paper is based predominantly on the publication Die kurmainzische Spiegelmanufaktur Lohr am Main (1698–1806) und die Nachfolgebetriebe im Spessart by Werner Loibl. For the comprehensive three-volume work that was published in 2012, the author meticulously compiled and evaluated a vast variety of archival materials. 2 Loibl 2012, vol. 1, pp. 203–224. 3 Ibidem, p. 217. 243 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Portrait of Lothar Franz von Schönborn, before 1695 (?). Würzburg, Mainfränkisches Museum, inv. no. H 40321 (reproduction after: Bamberg 2007, p. 132) d Johann Erwein von Schönborn (1654–1705), the older brother of Lothar Franz, recommended from the outset the profit-oriented marketing of the mirror products and in this connection proposed the presentation of the first large-scale mirrors, complete with ‘zirten’ (decoration) at the 1700 spring fair in Frankfurt.4 Lothar Franz, however, was primarily interested in realizing his own building projects economically. As a typical baroque ruler, he attached great importance to demonstrating his wealth and his prestige. To this end, during his years as Prince Bishop of Bamberg (1693–1729) and Archbishop of Mainz (1695–1729), he oversaw the building or renovation of numerous palaces. In this context, the first mirror cabinet in Germany, the so-called ‘Vergülten Grottesco-Zimmer’, was created in Gaibach Palace near Volkach on the Main between 1708 and 1713. In addition to the grotesques that gave it its name, there were, according to the inventory, mirror lenses (ornamental pilaster strips) on the walls and furniture decorated with back-painted glass and mirror tiles.5 244 4 Bayrisches Staatsarchiv Würzburg (hereafter: BayStAWÜ) Schönborn-Archiv Gbd. Korr. JE 69, Bl. 83 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 271). 5 Lohr am Main 1984, pp. 371–373; Döry 1964, pp. 195–225; Lohneis 1985, pp. 55–62; Kreisel and Himmelheber 1983, figs. 168–169. Petra Krutish s Between Pride and Suspicion Fig. 2. Plate glass manufacture after Diderot, 1765 (reproduction after: Diderot and d’Alembert 1765, No. 17, pl. XXIV) d In order to keep this and other projects6 within a manageable cost, the Elector needed local suppliers.7 An additional reason for the establishment of a mirror manufactory within his own territory was undoubtedly the import ban on all French wares that had gone into effect within the states of the German Reich in May 1676.8 This meant that, although he had seen and admired French mirrors during his grand tour which had included a visit to the court of Louis XIV in 1673, it was impossible for the Elector to purchase products from French mirror manufactories.9 The best he could do was to rely on French knowledge, that is to say, French glassmakers (Fig. 2–3) when, at the end the seventeenth century, he made possible the establishment of an initially private manufactory in Lohr through substantial co-financing. 6 The Seehof Palace near Bamberg, the New Residence in Bamberg, the Favorite pleasure palace (Lustschloss) in Mainz, Weissenstein Palace in Pommersfelden, the hunting palace Jägersburg near Forcheim. A survey of the building projects of the Schönborns between 1642 and 1756, the period during which members of the ducal house reigned in the Archbishoprics of Mainz and Trier and the Bishoprics of Bamberg, Würzburg, Speyer, Constance and Trier was provided by Erich Hubala in 1989 in his article for the catalogue of the large Schönborn exhibition in Nuremberg; Hubala 1989, pp. 24–52. 7 Lohr am Main 1984, p. 262. 8 Dietz 1925, pp. 94 and 275 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 336). 9 Lohr am Main 1984, p. 259. It can be assumed that Lothar Franz was also familiar with the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles constructed between 1678 and 1684. 245 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. Casting table for large glass plates after Diderot, 1765 (reproduction after: Diderot and d’Alembert 1765, No. 17, pl. XXIV) d In spring 1699, the first large-format mirror plate was cast for Lohr in Rechtenbach. For a variety of reasons, Lothar Franz von Schönborn was not able to be present. That autumn, however, he paid a protracted visit on his way from Mainz to Bamberg. His inspection of the manufactory turned into an elaborate baroque festivity. Not only did the Elector of Mainz review in detail the entire production process; he also dined in state with his entourage in the midst of the glassworks, using furniture that was especially brought in for the occasion, including tables decked with fine linens and silverware.10 Thereafter, Lothar Franz repeatedly exploited visits to the glassworks to impress selected guests. He took great care, however, about his selection. While prestige was always a consideration, there was surely an element of power politics involved when one or other visitor was denied a visit. For example, the records show that in late September 1700 the Viennese court expressed interest in seeing the year-old manufactory. The imperial request to visit the Spessart factory in order to see how it was outfitted and possibly even make models of equipment,11 met, however, with a negative response. Lothar Franz explained that he himself could neither grant permission nor provide further information. On the basis of contractual agreements, the sole right of decision for requests of this sort rested with the directors of the plant in Lohr.12 This was a clever move on the part of the Elector. For one, it enabled him to save face visà-vis Emperor Leopold I (r. 1658–1705) without fear of political consequences. For another, the monopoly status of ‘his manufactory’ was thereby sustained. 246 10 BayStAWÜ R 28237 ad, Nr. 279 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 273). 11 Österreichisches Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv Wien, Mainzer Erzkanzler-Archiv (hereafter: ÖHHStAW MEA) Korr 59, fol. 9 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 284). 12 Ibidem, fol. 14 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 280). Petra Krutish s Between Pride and Suspicion Fig. 4. Mirror with the comital Schönborn coatof-arms, Kurmainzische Spiegelmanufaktur Lohr am Main, between August 1701 and 1710. Munich, Bavarian Castles Administration, inv. no. 2347 (reproduction after: Bamberg 2007, p. 173) d Fig. 5. Coat-of-arms of the Schönborn family after their elevation to the status of hereditary imperial counts. Detail of Fig. 4 d 247 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 6. Coat-of-arms of Elector Lothar Franz von Schönborn. Franconia or Mainz, ca. 1700. Pommersfelden, Art Collection of the Counts of SchönbornWiesentheid (reproduction after: Nurenberg 1989, p. 276) d In Vienna, however, this was not a satisfactory reply, particularly since the Habsburgs were intending to open a mirror manufactory in their own territory. And it had been hoped that the necessary technical knowledge could be obtained from Lohr. The plan was to send a hollow glass-maker to the Spessart manufactory. There, although he would not learn the secrets of plate glass production itself, he would at least become familiar with the practical procedures of casting, rolling, grinding and coating. The foundation document for the mirror manufactory at Neuhaus, Lower Austria, includes express reference to such a journey. On 1st of April, 1701, exactly one day before the founding, a second letter was sent to the Elector of Mainz, this time signed by Emperor Leopold I himself. It, too, did not produce the desired result. With the same arguments that he had used half a year earlier, Lothar Franz von Schönborn again cited the authority of the manufacturers in Lohr. Of these, it was apparently Pierre Bernard de St. Pierre (mentioned earlier in this paper) who held back most emphatically. He feared that too many tours through the manufactory – particularly by ‘Fachleute’ (practitioners/specialists) – would lead to the unauthorized and uncontrolled spread of predominantly secret knowledge. The imitation of the plate-glass technology that was being used in Rechtenbach would also lead to a drop in demand for their own products.13 This refusal notwithstanding, as surviving records show, later that same year Lothar Franz von Schönborn sent two large mirrors, a small mirrored casket, a mirrored table, gueridons (small occasional tables) and wall sconces to the imperial court as a gift.14 Today, none of these objects can be identified. The mirrors were 248 13 Ibidem. 14 Treated in detail in Loibl 2012, vol. 1, pp. 299–314. Petra Krutish s Between Pride and Suspicion probably similar to a wall mirror with the Schönborn coat-of-arms that came on the art market in 2005 and was bought by the Bavarian Castle Administration (Figs. 4–5). That piece, however, was probably not produced until 1705, but certainly not before 1702, as an analysis of the coat-of-arms has shown.15 In his comprehensive monograph, Werner Loibl, who studied the history of the Lohr Mirror Manufactory intensively for many years, doubts that the archivally documented presentation to the imperial court was made purely for reasons of prestige. Instead, in his opinion, it was meant to compensate for an unsuccessful first gift in the autumn of 1699. Three horses from the Kurmainz stud farm at Lichtenau which were presented to the eldest son of Emperor Leopold16 turned out not to have been adequately broken in, bringing Lothar Franz ridicule instead of favour.17 Possibly he was then advised by sympathetic Viennese counsellors to make up for this mishap by sending wall mirrors from the Lohr Manufactory. It is also possible that the thought in Vienna was that, since visits to the Spessart manufactory were apparently out of the question, this was also a means of obtaining models for the Habsburg mirror manufactory in Neuhaus. There is no way of knowing, but it certainly sounds entirely plausible. The mirrors for the Viennese Court were already in production in October 1700.18 But it was not until late November 1701 that they could be delivered. Apparently, the glassmakers in Lohr had underestimated the workload and it had taken far more attempts than anticipated to produce glass plates more than 2 meters in height in the desired quality. How highly the mirrors of Lohr were regarded is demonstrated by the fact that Emperor Leopold I himself took charge of the allocation of the pieces and particularly of the two – as they are repeatedly called in the records – ‘large’ mirrors. Long before the shipment arrived in Vienna, he specified that one mirror should go to his (third) wife, Empress Eleonore Magdalene von Pfalz-Neuburg (1655–1720), and the other to his daughter-in-law, Queen Amalie Wilhelmine von BraunschweigLüneburg (1673–1742) – in honour of the birth of her second child that was due to 15 The mirror (h. 121 cm, w. 64 cm) was purchased in 2007 by the Bavarian Palace Administration for the Residence in Bamberg (Inv. No. BaRes. S0045). Although it was initially associated with the ‘Viennese consignment’, the analysis of the coat-of-arms has shown conclusively that this piece was produced for the Schönborn family itself in the context of – or in any event after – their elevation to the status of hereditary imperial counts by Emperor Leopold I on 5th of August, 1701. Cf. the catalogue Bamberg 2007, pp. 173–174, no. 4.10, fig. 173. Bretz 2013, fig. 2. On Augmentation of Honor (Wappenmehrung), cf. Maué 1989, pp. 53–59, esp. pp. 57–58 and cat. no. 70. 16 Joseph I Habsburg (1678–1711) was crowned King of Hungary in 1687 and King of Germany in 1690. 17 Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 300. 18 ÖHHStAW MEA Korr 59, fol. 9 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 299). 249 The Ambassadors of Dialogue be born in late autumn of the year 1700.19 This information led Lothar Franz to wonder whether, as originally intended, his own electoral coat-of-arms (Fig. 6) should be placed on the mirror frames or whether this might provoke displeasure at the Viennese Court. To be on the safe side, he asked to be provided with detailed information about the coat-of-arms of the queen (colours included), but he would surely have preferred to use the Schönborn emblem, thereby asserting himself as donor and initiator of the magnificent artwork. It has not yet been possible to determine which of these solutions was ultimately chosen.20 The shipment from Lohr arrived in Vienna on 26th of November, 1701, and was unloaded in the Hofburg (specifically in the imperial chancellery). When the precious cargo was unpacked it was discovered that the pieces had suffered in transit. The mirrors themselves were not damaged, but were, as the records state, ‘completely filmed over, possibly as a result of the damp weather.’21 By means of ‘cleansing’ (whatever process that may have meant), the impairments were soon removed and within a few days the pieces were presented to the Emperor. Leopold had decided in the meantime to bestow both wall mirrors to his wife on Saint Nicholas’ Day, in other words, on 6th of December, 1701.22 His daughter-in-law Amalia Wilhelmine received the other pieces of furniture that had been part of the shipment, specifically (according to the records) a small mirrored casket, a mirrored table, gueridons (small occasional tables) and wall sconces.23 The reaction of the recipients was more than effusive: Christoph Gudenus (1632–1705), who was minister resident for Kurmainz in Vienna during this entire period, was expressly commissioned by the Court to convey to Lothar Franz how much the Empress admired the mirrors for their incredible height and their superb quality. But above all, it pleased the Court that Germany, too, now had a mirror manufactory that contributes ‘to the glory of the nation.’24 Only a few years earlier, Lothar Franz von Schönborn had taken a risk 19 250 Amalia Wilhelmine von Braunschweig-Lüneburg married Joseph I, Leopold‘s eldest son, on 24th of February, 1699. Her second child, Archduke Leopold Joseph, was born on 29th of October, 1700, but died at the age of nine months. Cf. ÖHHStAW MEA Korr 59, fol. 9 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 301). 20 Ibidem, fol. 11; cf. Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 305 and footnote 346. 21 ÖHHStAW MEA Korr 59, fol. 183 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 308). 22 The small bubbles in the glass were initially criticized. However, they were apparently caused by the fall of light and were hardly noticeable after the mirror was hung in the cabinet of the Empress. A flaw caused by carelessness while attaching the reflective foil to the glass, however, remained conspicuous. Cf. ÖHHStAW MEA Korr 59, fol. 192 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 311). 23 It wasn’t until 14th of December, 1701, however, that the presentation took place, as wooden parts of the pieces apparently required substantial repairs, having come loose or become warped during transport. ÖHHStAW MEA Korr 59, fol. 192 (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 314). 24 Ibidem (after Loibl 2012, vol. 1, p. 309). Petra Krutish s Between Pride and Suspicion and invested heavily to establish the production of large scale mirrors in Germany, that is to say, in his own electorate. He was now rewarded with uncontested fame! Ultimately, the ambitious Franconian had succeeded in making his mark at the Imperial Court in Vienna without allowing company secrets to escape from the Spessart to the rest of the world. d 251 Bibliography Bamberg 2007 Kaiser Räume – Kaiser Träume. Forschen und Restaurieren in der Bamberger Residenz. Johannes Erichsen, Katharina Heinemann and Karin Janis (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Bamberg 2007. München 2007. Bretz 2013 Simone Bretz, Hinterglasmalerei. Maltechnik, Geschichte, Restaurierung. München 2013. Diderot and d’Alambert 1765 Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert, Recueil de planches, sur les sciences, les arts libéraux, et les arts méchaniques, avec leur explication. Paris 1765, vol. 3, no. 17 (Manufacture of Mirror Glass – Cast Glass). Dietz 1925 Alexander Dietz, Frankfurter Handelsgeschichte, vol. 4, part 1. Frankfurt 1925 (Reprint Glashütten/Ts. 1973). Döry 1964 Ludwig von Döry-Jobaháza, ‘Das ‘Vergulte Zimmer’ des Gaibacher Schlosses 1708–1713’, in: Münchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst, XV, 1964, pp. 195–225. Hubala 1989 Erich Hubala, ‘Die Grafen von Schönborn als Bauherren’, in: Nürnberg 1989, pp. 24–52. Kreisel and Himmelheber 1983 Heinrich Kreisel and Georg Himmelheber, Die Kunst des deutschen Möbels. Möbel und Vertäfelungen des deutschen Sprachraums von den Anfängen bis zum Jugendstil. Vol. 2: Spätbarock und Rokoko. München 1983. Lohneis 1985 Hans-Dieter Lohneis, Die deutschen Spiegelkabinette. Studien zu den Räumen des späten 17. und frühen 18. Jahrhunderts. München 1985. Lohr am Main 1984 Glück und Glas. Zur Kulturgeschichte des Spessartglases. Claus Grimm (ed.). Exhib. Cat. Lohr am Main 1984. München 1984 (Veröffentlichungen zur bayerischen Geschichte und Kultur, 2). Loibl 2012 Werner Loibl, Die kurmainzische Spiegelmanufaktur Lohr am Main, 1698–1806 und die Nachfolgebetriebe im Spessart, 3 Vols. Aschaffenburg 2012 (Studien zur Geschichte des SpessartGlases, 3; Veröffentlichung des Geschichts- und Kunstvereins Aschaffenburg e.V., 62). Maué 1989 Hermann Maué, ‘Schönborn, ein uraltes, adeliges nunmehro Reichs-Gräfliches Geschlecht’, in: Nürnberg 1989, pp. 53–59. Nürnberg 1989 Die Grafen von Schönborn. Kirchenfürsten, Sammler, Mäzene. Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg 18. Februar bis 23. April 1989. Hermann Maué, Sonja Brink (eds.). Exhib. Cat. Nürnberg 1989 (Ausstellungskataloge des Germanischen Nationalmuseums). 252 Peter Johnston (National Army Museum, London) Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire \ In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the British Army was the driving force of the British Empire, being used to conquer and police new territories across the globe. The men who marched with the colours were not only soldiers, but also explorers, surveyors, ambassadors and diplomats. They were amongst the first British men to encounter the native peoples of the lands they were seeking to subjugate. More often they drove the first encounters through fire and flame, but cultural dialogue emerged afterwards. Gift-giving from those defeated resulted – both willingly and under compulsion – and was reciprocated by those who had been victorious. The exchange of these tokens of friendship was diplomatic and political, designed either to placate the conquerors or to rebuild relationships with a subjugated population in the aftermath of conflict. As historical artefacts these objects retain an enormous fascination. At the time they were given, they introduced the British to new craftsmanship and cultures. Retrospectively, they provide a fascinating view into how the British were perceived by the cultures that gave them. However, how were the allegiances, which these gifts were given to signify, maintained after the fighting had ended? Did the gifts ensure a lasting peace, or were they empty gestures? How were the British, as conquerors and colonisers, perceived in the wake of conflict? In many cases, they diplomatic exchange of pleasantries and gifts failed to last and bring lasting peace to an area. However, in some examples they set up a pattern of continuous cultural exchange and dialogue. The National Army Museum is blessed to hold many diplomatic gifts within its Collection. As could be expected, the most common types of gift are ceremonial and presentation swords. There are several examples of presentation swords given by dignitaries from ethnic groups, nations, even mercantile businesses, varying from those 253 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 1. Presentation sword given to Lt. Samuel Snook, Bombay Marine, by the East India Company Court of Directors d awarded to Field Marshals as recognition for their deeds in war,1 to those given for sometimes much more bizarre and esoteric reasons. One slightly strange example worthy of note is the presentation sword awarded to Lieutenant Samuel Snook of the Bombay Marine by the East India Company Court of Directors in 1799 (Fig. 1).2 Snook was given this sword for returning a group of women who were stranded in India to their home in the Pelew Islands (Palau) in the Pacific. When the party disembarked in July 1798 Snook reported that the locals were ‘very happy to see me and their friends again.’ Snook’s actions greatly improved relations with the local tribes and they consented for the East India Company to use the islands as staging posts, for which the Company were grateful. However, the most remarkable example of the interchange of cultural artefacts to be found in the National Army Museum’s Collection is a nephrite jade mere that was given as a gift to Field Marshal Lord Frederick Roberts (1832–1914) by the Maori chief Tuta Nihoniho (1850–1914) in 1901 (Fig. 2).3 Tuta Nihoniho was born on 30th of October, 1850 at Whareponga, near Waipiro Bay. He belonged to Te Aowera and Te Aitanga-a-Mate of Ngati Porou, one of the largest iwi, or tribes, in New Zealand. His father was Henare Nihoniho, a major chief who died fighting against the Hauhau – a group of Maori driven by religious and ideological goals – in the 1860s. He fought in the East Cape War of 1865–1866, when the Ngati Porou split between those who 254 1 For example: National Army Museum in London (hereinafter: NAM), inv. no. NAM 1959-05-24-1. A jade hilted shamshir with scabbard presented to British Field Marshal Sir Claude Auchinleck in 1944 by His Highness the Maharaja Gen Sir Joodha Shum Shere Jung Bahadur Rana of Nepal. 2 Inv. no. NAM 1965-03-46-1. 3 Inv. no. NAM 1971-01-25-4-1. Peter Johnston s Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire Fig. 2. Nephrite jade mere given to Field Marshal Lord Roberts by Tuta Nihoniho d supported unified Maori sovereignty with members of other iwi based on Hauhau religious beliefs, and those who wanted to maintain sovereignty for individual tribes. The colonial government of the time supported the latter against the Hauhau. Nihoniho fought with the Ngati Porou Native Contingent, which was armed by the British and occasionally supported by white officers and militia from the colonial government and regular forces in their campaigns. Nihoniho continued to fight with them for the remainder of the New Zealand Wars, leading to the pacification of the other Maori elements that rebelled against British colonial land purchases and rule. In 1886, he even raised and commanded the Ngati-Porou Rifles, which were formed in response to the threat of war with Russia. Nihoniho was to have led the Maori contingent to Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations in 1897 but for ill health.4 However, in 1901 he was an officer in the Duke of York’s bodyguard during the royal visit to Rotorua.5 Nihoniho clearly admired the British greatly, and was keen to show this admiration at the highest level. In 1901, he sent a ceremonial nephrite jade mere and tomahawk to Lord Roberts, then recognised as Britain’s greatest soldier, as a gift and a token of admiration for his exploits in the Second Boer War (1899–1902) in South Africa. A mere was a type of weapon known as a patu, a generic Maori word that meant to strike, hit, beat, or subdue. It is a type of short, broad-bladed weapon in the shape of an enlarged teardrop. Maori warriors used meres for close-quarter fighting, and the top was ground to a sharp edge, extending down both sides of the weapon. They were therefore an ideal weapon for thrusting and jabbing at an opponent’s temple or ribs. The greenstone patu – mere pounamu – was the most revered of all Maori weapons. They were symbols of chieftainship and regarded as valuable heirlooms. Nephrite 4 Oliver, Te Ara. 5 Scholefield 1940, p. 125. 255 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Fig. 3. Lowes Cato Dickinson, Portrait of Field Marshal Lord Roberts in South Africa, 1901 (NAM 1974-11-9-1) d meres in particular were valued for their strength and their ability to hold their sharp edge, as well as their aesthetic beauty. The mere was delivered to Roberts via William Pember Reeves (1857–1932), the Agent General of New Zealand. Nihoniho had shown considerable persistence in sending the mere to Roberts, as revealed in the letter Reeves sent to Roberts accompanying the gift on 24th of January, 1901. Indeed, Reeves almost chided Roberts over the fact that a letter had been sent to him in South Africa in April 1900 asking where Tuta Nihoniho could send the mere, but had received no response. Nihoniho was so desperate to send this gift that, ‘as no reply was received he decided to send it to me for transmission to you.’6 That he sent it to Lord Roberts during wartime, whilst he was not only on active service but also trying to salvage Britain’s disastrous campaign against the Boers, makes it all the more remarkable. Nihoniho also wrote to Lord Roberts. In the letter (and accompanying translation) that came with the mere, Nihoniho refers to the ‘great admiration’ he has for the ‘Warrior General’ Roberts, and the way in which he has ‘so bravely upheld the 6 256 NAM 1971-01-25-5-1. Peter Johnston s Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire authority of our exalted Sovereign Queen Victoria to the honour of England.’7 There can be no doubting his loyalty to the Crown and Empire, and the letter ends with a triumphal ‘God save the Queen!’8 Touchingly, the letter was also an opportunity for Nihoniho to express his condolences to Lord Roberts for the death of his son on active service in Natal in South Africa on 17th of December, 1899 (Fig. 3).9 Nihoniho also provided Roberts with a history of the mere and a full list of the ancestry by which it came to him.10 It is the investigation of this document that allows us as historians to truly understand the emotional importance of this example of gift-giving. Relating dynastic history, in particular in regards to ownership of mere, was an important gesture in Maori culture, where pounamu also play a very important role. Greenstone items such as this are considered a taonga, or treasure, by Maori peoples. Pounamu taonga increase in mana (loosely translated as power, effectiveness and prestige) – itself a fundamental aspect of Maori warrior culture – as they pass from one generation to another. Both objects such as mere and people are believed to hold their own mana. Touching, holding and possessing objects that are invested with the mana of historical forebears can add to somebody’s personal mana. Permanently owning these objects allows the mana to fuse together and become stronger. The most prized taonga are those with known histories going back many generations, such as the example Nihoniho sent to Lord Roberts, as they can be seen to hold much in the way of mana. This mere had been passed down from chief to chief in the tribe for 18 generations and was sufficiently revered to have its own name: ‘Porourangi’. Significant taonga were given by Maori as gifts to seal important agreements. That this mere could be traced back through 18 previous owners makes it enormously significant and valuable. It is no trifle to have been casually given away as an empty gesture. It is a clear sign of the enormous esteem in which Nihoniho viewed Roberts, a man he had never met but clearly heard much about and his martial reputation. The giving of pounamu also referred to the enduring nature of peace, and in some cases a pounamu weapon would be handed over to signify peace being agreed. As such, this gesture could be interpreted as being a symbol not only of incredible respect, but also one of enduring loyalty in the aftermath of war between the British and some Maori. This small example of gift-giving can be seen as an example of the British Empire being seen as a collaborative effort between the colonists and the colonial subjects, and an attempt to closer bind and link the people ruled by the Empire to its centre. Significantly, given the context of Empire, Nihoniho’s letter also showed the ways in 7 Ibidem. 8 Ibidem. 9 Ibidem. 10 Ibidem. 257 The Ambassadors of Dialogue which a war in one colony was viewed by some of the colonial subjects in another; Roberts’ victories in South Africa had brought glory to Britain that ‘will ever be reflected on New Zealand.’11 Indeed, Nihoniho had wanted to lead 500 Maori troops to South Africa to assist the British against the Boers but his offer was declined because British policy at the time was not to use indigenous soldiers in wars between white enemies. This clearly rankled with Nihoniho, as he stated; ‘It has ever been my wish that I and your Maori friends should join you in the war in which you are involved, to be attached to your feet and to have the honour of being in the jaws of death even though we suffer as did your son.’12 Interestingly, this praise of British operations in South Africa was an attitude shared by other Maori from Ngati Porou. In 1900, Apirana Ngata – who would become the first Maori to gain a university degree in 189313 and was knighted in 1927 – wrote in Te Pipiwharauroa He Kupu Whakamarama, a Maori-language newspaper, that; ‘Perhaps if it had not been for the English war against the Boers, we, the Maori, and other people may not have appreciated the heart of England, the spirit which dwells in the hearts of her children in every place. The muzzles of the guns which sounded at Ladysmith awoke the world to see that a new spirit was floating on the waves of the waters, the spirit which united the many colonies under the power of England, one with another, all with a single parent set on the other side of the sea. India, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Cape Colony, Natal and many other peoples have all risen up together.’14 Additionally, Ngata writes that ‘The heart of England will not be repressed. The great powers, the French, Russia, Germany look and tremble. They know that should they declare war against England they will find themselves fighting against India, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Good luck to the English! God bless the Queen!’15 Whilst the British rejected formal Maori help in the Boer War, they did make use of New Zealanders of European descent. This allowed many Maori to join up by Anglicising their names. However, with the mass mobilisation of the World War I, the Maori were deployed overseas for the first time along with thousands of other colonial subjects from across the Empire – much as Ngata predicted. Another interesting aspect of Nihoniho’s gift to Lord Roberts is the way in which it was covered in the newspapers in New Zealand. Indeed, it provoked a slew of coverage and letters to editors of the various papers from New Zealanders. On 31st of March, 1900, the New Zealand Herald published a letter to the editor from a Mr Abbott titled, ‘An object lesson for Boer, Bigot and Critic.’ In it, the correspondent writes, 11 258 Ibidem. 12 Ibidem. 13 Sorrenson, Te Ara. 14 Ngata 1900. 15 Ibidem. Peter Johnston s Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire ‘Nothing will be found to loom up and stand out with deeper significance than the unique gift of an historic Maori mere to Lord Roberts, now at the theatre of war. New Zealand, in courage, sacrifice, and patriotism, has risen triumphantly to this great occasion.’16 The letter goes on to describe the importance of the gesture in heralding an important step in the relationship between the Maori and the British, and also as an example of the ‘benignity and justice’ and other positive effects of the British Empire. The contrast is made quite clearly between the Maori who had – the letter claims – accepted and benefitted from British rule, and the Boers, who had chosen to challenge it.17 The Otago Daily Times, which covered the far south of New Zealand’s South Island, also reported the giving of this ‘heirloom of inestimable value.’18 It can clearly be seen that this was far more than a gift given between just two people. The act had far wider effects and recognition. It seemed to justify the previous military campaigns and confirm the success of the colonisation and occupation of New Zealand by the British. The giving of this gift, to Britain’s pre-eminent colonial soldier, the archetypal Empire soldier, seemed in some quarters to confirm the integration of the Maori into the British Empire. It is also interesting to note that this was not the first time that Nihoniho had sent gifts to British imperial figures. He had previously sent a feather cloak to Queen Victoria in 1886, and in return been sent a Sword of Honour, which he was presented with by the governor, Sir William Jervois, and proudly carried.19 Clearly, the giving of gifts, and further cultural dialogue in this way, was recognised as an important diplomatic procedure. However, Nihoniho’s gifts obviously did not necessarily reflect the beliefs and opinions of all Maori people. While work is currently in its early stages, the National Army Museum’s future community engagement plans aim to explore the varying ways in which different Maori tribes look back on their past and their connections with Britain and the British Army, both historically and in the present. Other iwi, for example, had a very different experience of British colonisation and perspective on the British in 1900, having been the victims of colonial expansion, rather than allies in the process. One member of the Taranaki iwi, for example, referred to Nihoniho as a ‘Kūpapa’ in conversation with the National Army Museum. During the New Zealand Wars this was the term given to those Maori that fought for the British. In modern usage, it can be seen as a derogatory term used to describe Maori that act against the interests of Maori in conflict with the government – effectively a traitor. 16 Abbott 1900. 17 Ibidem. 18 Otago Daily Times 1900. 19 Oliver, Te Ara. 259 The Ambassadors of Dialogue Yet no gift is entirely representative of the people on behalf of which it is given. Instead, what it represents is one way in which powerful local elites sought to ally themselves to the colonial centre, as well as demonstrating how successful the British colonists had been in building alliances among the powerful indigenous peoples of their colonies. Lord Roberts was extremely grateful for the gift from Nihoniho, and replied via a letter on 5th of February, 1901. The acknowledgement of such gifts was obviously an important part of the process, and in his letter Lord Roberts wrote that, ‘I value this gift not only on account of its intrinsic value and historical associations, but also on account of your courteous assurances of goodwill and friendship which accompany it.’20 As regards to Nihoniho’s comment on not utilising Maori soldiers, Roberts also wrote that he was, ‘confident that the loyalty of the British Empire which you have expressed upon behalf of your people and yourself is sincere, and in the name of the Army which I have the honour to command, I thank you for your wish to fight the enemies of our country, if called upon to do so, side by side with our soldiers.’ In conclusion, the Collection of the National Army Museum holds many objects that relate to peace and war. Amongst these are many gifts that were given as part of the diplomatic process brought on by British colonial expansion, furthering cultural exchange. These are both gifts of conquest and gifts of friendship, and they range from those given in the immediate aftermath of conflict to those symbolising long-term allegiance. The process of Empire brought Britain’s soldiers into contact with other soldiers, civil luminaries and leaders from across the world, and it is fascinating to learn more about these individuals and the tokens of friendship that they offered. Gifts such as these were never given in isolation, or without motivation. Nor are they always reflective of the viewpoint of the entire people that they supposedly represent. Significantly, holding these items in the Collection of the National Army Museum provides opportunity to not only study their historical context, but also their modern and contemporary relevance. The objects can be given a new life by being used to prompt discussions between the descendants of the peoples that gave them and the Museum about their significance, as well as spark debate about how the colonial relationships are viewed today. This means that the artefacts can be part of a dynamic, exciting present, as well as a fascinating past. d 20 260 NAM 1971-01-25-5-1. Peter Johnston s Gifts from the Frontiers of Empire Bibliography Archives: NAM 1971-01-25-5-1 Letter from Field Marshal Earl Roberts to M. H. Tuta Nihoniho, 5th of February, 1901, in: ‘Correspondence respecting the Mere “Porourangi” presented to Field Marshal Earl Roberts K.G. by the Maori Chief M. H. Tuta Nihoniho’. National Army Museum, inv. no. NAM 197101-25-5-1. Publications: Abbott 1900 John Abbott, ‘An Object Lesson for Boer, Bigot and Critic. To the Editor’, in: New Zealand Herald, Issue 11334, 31 March 1900, p. 5. http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/cgi-bin/paperspast?a=d&d=NZH19000331.2.65.50.2, (accessed July 2015). Ngata 1900 A. T. Ngata, ‘Te Ngakau O Ingarangi’, in: Te Pipiwharauroa He Kupu Whakamarama, Number 28, Gisborne (June 1900), p. 1. http://www.nzdl.org/gsdlmod?gg=text&e=d-00000-00---off-0niupepa--00-0----0-10-0---0--0direct-10---4-------0-1l--11-en-50---20-about---00-0-1-00-0--4----0-0-11-10-0utfZz-800&a=d&c=niupepa&cl=CL1.30&d=38__28, (accessed July 2015). Otago Daily Times 1900 ‘A Maori’s gift to Lord Roberts’, in: Otago Daily Times, Issue 11701, 6 April 1900, p. 5. http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/cgi-bin/paperspast?a=d&d=ODT19000406.2.44, (accessed July 2015). Scholefield 1940 A Dictionary of New Zealand Biography. Guy Hardy Scholefield (ed.). Wellington 1940. Internet Resources: Oliver, Te Ara S. Oliver, Te Ara. The Encylopedia of New Zealand. Nihoniho, Matutaera. http://www.teara.govt. nz/en/biographies/1n14/nihoniho-matutaera, (accessed July 2015). Sorrenson, Te Ara M. P. K. Sorrenson, Te Ara. The Encyclopedia of New Zealand. Ngata, Apirana Turupa. http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/3n5/ngata-apirana-turupa), (accessed July 2015). 261