Antwerp in the Renaissance (Studies in European Urban History (1100-1800)) (Studies in European Urban History 1100-1800, 49) 9782503588339, 2503588336

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Antwerp in the Renaissance

SEUH Studies in European Urban History (1100–1800)

Volume 49 Series Editors Marc Boone Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Ghent University

Antwerp in the Renaissance

Edited by Bruno Blondé & Jeroen Puttevils

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© 2020, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2020/0095/41 ISBN 978-2-503-58833-9 eISBN 978-2-503-58834-6 DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.119724 ISSN 1780-3241 eISSN 2294-8368 Printed on acid-free paper.

To Hugo Soly, Out of gratitude for his inspiring scholarship

Table of Contents

Antwerp in the Renaissance9 Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils Sixteenth-Century Antwerp, a Hyper-Market for All? The Case of Low Countries Merchants29 Jeroen Puttevils Antwerp Commercial Law in the Sixteenth Century: A Product of the Renaissance? The Legal Facilitating, Appropriating and Improving of Mercantile Practices55 Dave De Ruysscher Brotherhood of Artisans. The Disappearance of Confraternal Friendship and the Ideal of Equality in the Long Sixteenth Century89 Bert De Munck ‘And Thus the Brethren Shall Meet All Together’. Active Participation in Antwerp Confraternities, c. 1375–1650107 Hadewijch Masure A Renaissance Republic? Antwerp’s urban militia, “the military Renaissance” and structural changes in warfare, c. 1566–c. 1621131 Erik Swart A Counterfeit Community. Rederijkers, Festive Culture and Print in Renaissance Antwerp153 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene Literary Renaissance in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp?173 Herman Pleij Building the Metropolis195 Krista De Jonge, Piet Lombaerde, and Petra Maclot The City Portrayed. Patterns of Continuity and Change in the Antwerp Renaissance City View237 Jelle De Rock

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Trial and error. Antwerp Renaissance art263 Koenraad Jonckheere Silks and the ‘Golden Age’ of Antwerp297 Bruno Blondé, Jeroen Puttevils and Isis Sturtewagen

Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils  

Antwerp in the Renaissance* 1.1. Antwerp and the Renaissance At the top of the list of the must-see attractions of Antwerp since the Florentine merchant and Netherlands-watcher Lodovico Guicciardini described it in his Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (1567), Antwerp’s city hall clearly symbolises the city’s sixteenth-century Golden Age. Designed by Cornelis Floris De Vriendt, the building originally and successfully combines at least three architectural strands: an architectural system imported from Italy and inspired by Antiquity, French court-styled ornaments after Fontainebleau and the typical Low Countries crow-stepped gable. The imperial eagles, the statue of Brabo – the protagonist in the city’s foundational myth – the lion of the duchy of Brabant, the composite coat-of-arms of King Philip II and the castle topped by a pair of hands representing the Antwerp margraviate, present in the building’s avant-corps, are a clear indication of the complex political constellation the city was part of when the building was finished in 1565 (Fig. 1.1.).1 The Antwerp city hall does a good job serving as a pars pro toto of the story of Antwerp in the era of the Renaissance. It lays bare the hybridity of the Renaissance in Northwestern Europe. Renaissance appears in different guises: as a period in which the historical developments of the city are placed; as a locus – more specifically the Italian peninsula – with which Antwerp’s history is entwined through contacts and exchanges; as a re-birth and appropriation of antique models; as a self-referential discourse; and, connected to this, even as a paradigm of modernity. Whatever the form, the Renaissance was always appropriated within a local tradition, and this was no different with Antwerp as is exemplified, for instance, by the construction of the City Hall.2

* This introduction borrowed heavily from an earlier and more theoretically oriented reflection on “Antwerp and the Renaissance”, a draft article that was originally written by several colleagues from the University of Antwerp, i.e. Bruno Blondé, Bert De Munck, Guido Marnef, Jeroen Puttevils & Maarten Van Dijck (Erasmus University Rotterdam). The authors wish to thank their co-authors for their generosity to use this thought-provoking work for this introduction. We cannot but stress how many of our thoughts on Antwerp in the renaissance have gained from the writing of this preliminary positional paper, and from the multiple meetings with the team members in the process of editing this volume. Of course, this does not prevent us from taking full responsibility for the final choices made while reworking the original paper into this introduction. 1 Marnix Beyen, Inge Schoups, Bert Timmermans & Herman Van Goethem (eds), Het stadhuis van Antwerpen: 450 jaar geschiedenis, Antwerpen, 2015; see also chapter 9 by De Jonge, Lombaerde and Maclot in this volume. 2 Bart Ramakers, Understanding Art in Antwerp. Classicising the Popular, Popularising the Classic (1540–1580), Leuven, 2011. Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 09–28.

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DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.119775

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Figure 1.1. Pieter Van der Borcht, Façade of Antwerp City Hall, 1581, Felixarchief Antwerpen, 12#12213.

This hybridity perfectly illustrates the difficulties encountered in using the Renaissance as a frame of reference. Indeed, there are few historical concepts that have been as heavily debated, attacked and deconstructed as the idea of the Renaissance. We do not consider it the core business of this volume to cover, let alone contribute to, this vast number of self-reflective Renaissance Studies.3 The Renaissance has developed into an umbrella term that willingly or unwillingly added up to a strong master-narrative on the emergence of European ‘modernity’, which of course had to have its roots in Greece and Rome and was considered to have developed linearly as an intra-European phenomenon. In the last few decades this “grand narrative” has fallen to pieces. Renaissance thinking has rightly been unmasked as a teleological, modernist and Eurocentric way of thinking about the past.4 In addition, scholars have also contested the timing and geography of the Renaissance. Yet, all the caveats notwithstanding, the Italian Renaissance played a key role in sixteenth-century Antwerp, as also is evidenced throughout this volume. The 3 William Caferro, Contesting the Renaissance, Oxford; Guido Rugierro, “Introduction”, in Renaissance Dreaming: In search of a Paradigm. A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, ed. G. Rugierro, Oxford, 2011, pp. 1–20. 4 Gurminder K. Bhambra., Rethinking Modernity. Postcolonialism and the Sociological Imagination, Basingstoke, 2007; Jack Goody, Renaissances. The One or the Many?, Cambridge, 2010.

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European geography of the Renaissance studies still heavily emphasises the part played by the Italian peninsula.5 This does not mean that Renaissance scholars neglected the importance of developments in Northwestern Europe. Grafton and Jardine for instance claimed that humanist teaching only reached its high ideals under the influence of the northern humanists Erasmus and Agricola. In contrast to Italian school practices, humanist schooling in the Low Countries was able for the first time to prepare children for civil life.6 Peter Burke pointed to the importance of artistic developments in the Low Countries during the late medieval period. He identified the Low Countries as the second centre of the European Renaissance.7 This book will offer a fresh look at some Renaissance debates by offering a decentred view, based upon recent research on Renaissance Antwerp. 1.2. In Defence of a City: the Periphery of the Italian Renaissance? As a city that experienced rapid growth, major societal shifts and splendid cultural achievements, Antwerp offers a unique non-Italian laboratory to question some of the assertions made in Renaissance historiography. On the one hand, it brings to a head questions about continuity and change, the ‘modernity’ of the Renaissance, and the relationship of the individual to the complex, rapidly growing social framework in which people from all over Europe flocked together. On the other hand, it enables us through the lens of one particular metropolis to trace the way the Renaissance as a myth and intellectual construct travelled across Europe and was reproduced and reinvented in different economic and intellectual centres. Guido Ruggiero even goes as far as to equate what was new and even revolutionary in the Renaissance with imperfect imitation: something new was created because of slippages and imperfections in translating concepts, forms and things across cultures and space.8 Moreover Antwerp also contributed to the forging of the myths of both the Italian Renaissance and European modernity itself. As a major hub for trade with Italy, the city served as a cultural bridge between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.9 The choice of Antwerp is also inspired by the rather unique position the city achieved as the most prosperous economic metropolis of Northern 5 Peter Burke, The European Renaissance: centres and peripheries, Oxford, 1998; Peter Burke, “The Historical Geography of the Renaissance”, in A Companion to the Worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford, 2002, pp. 88–103. 6 Anthony Grafton & Lisa Jardine, From humanism to the humanities, Boston, 1986, pp. 122–49. 7 Burke, “The Historical Geography”, p. 93. 8 Ruggiero, “Introduction”, p. 7. 9 Paola Subacchi, “Italians in Antwerp in the Second Half of the Sixteenth Century”, in Minderheden in Westeuropese Steden (16de-20ste Eeuw). Minorities in Western European Cities (Sixteenth-Twentieth Century), eds Alphons Thijs & Hugo Soly, Brussel, 1995, pp. 73–90; Paola Subacchi, “The Italian Community in 16th-Century Antwerp”, in Majolica and Glass from Italy to Antwerp and Beyond: The Transfer of Technology in the Early 17th Century, ed. Johan Veeckman, Antwerpen, 2002, pp. 23–37.

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Europe for a couple of decades around the middle of the sixteenth century.10 Antwerp was more than a vibrant commercial metropolis, it was also a Babylon of cultural encounters, in which the Italian Renaissance played a key role – albeit not in a monopolistic way.11 Yet, at all levels of society, from the dining table12 to the most prestigious landmarks in the townscape, ideas, forms and models adopted from Renaissance Italy were fashion making in Antwerp. Moreover, as a commercial hub Antwerp also played a key role in the transmission to Northern Europe of ‘thé Italian Renaissance’ as a cluster of styles and cultural ideals.13 The presence of a cosmopolitan and affluent merchant community shaped the contours of a very vivid exchange of ideas and material goods, and especially the intensive relationships with Italy accounted for a quick transmission of the Italian way of life. In all likelihood, this Italian merchant community acted as a strong mediator of a powerful cultural model. Moreover, thanks to trade with Italy, in which hundreds of Low Countries’ merchants engaged, as well as the Peregrinatio Academica, inhabitants of the Low Countries themselves acquired knowledge of Italian cultures through direct contacts.14 Last but not least, a series of Italian craftsmen – often of Venetian origin – looking for business opportunities elsewhere in Europe settled in the city. Their cultural models affected cultural and artistic life in sixteenth-century Antwerp. Finally, the Antwerp printing presses did a good job in fostering Italian (material) cultural models as well.15 Moreover, very often affluent Antwerp merchants translated their personal success into the purchase of a villa rustica in the countryside (see Fig. 1.2.).16 In addition, without completely disregarding local architectural traditions, Antwerp merchant houses were re-arranged with Italian Tuscan arcaded galleries, as was the New Exchange which was constructed in 1531 by Dominicus de Waghemakere to serve the needs of a growing number of financial traders. When the city government decided to build the new city hall, it was the palazzo that served as a model for the building that in the years 1561–1565 would be constructed under the supervision of Cornelis II Floris de Vriendt. Mirrors, Venetian crystal glass and Italian tin glazed earthenware were imported and 10 Oscar Gelderblom, Cities of commerce: the institutional foundations of international trade in the Low Countries, 1250–1650, Princeton, 2013; Jeroen Puttevils, Merchants and Trading in the Sixteenth Century: The Golden Age of Antwerp, London, 2015. 11 Joanna Woodall, “Lost in translation? Thinking about classical and vernacular art in Antwerp, 1540– 1580”, in Understanding art in Antwerp. Classicising the Popular, Popularising the Classic (1540–1580), ed. Bart Ramakers, Leuven, 2011, pp. 1–24. 12 Claudia Goldstein, Pieter Bruegel and the culture of the early modern dinner party, Farnham, 2013. 13 Peter Burke, The Italian Renaissance: Culture and Society in Italy, Cambridge, 1986, pp. 242–46. 14 See also chapter 11 by Koenraad Jonckheere in this volume. 15 Jelle De Rock, Jeroen Puttevils et al., “Handelsnetwerken, stedelijke ruimte en culturele omgeving in het 16de-eeuwse Antwerpen”, in Internationale handelsnetwerken en culturele contacten in de vroegmoderne Nederlanden, eds Maartje Van Gelder & Esther Mijers, Maastricht, 2009, pp. 27–42. 16 Roland Baetens, “Culture and power: Italian and local influence on the villa rustica in the Antwerp region”, in Glamour research project: Genoa, London, Antwerp: memories of urban Rubens, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Antwerp, 2001, pp. 22–30; Roland Baetens (ed.), Hoven van plaisantie: het ‘soete’ buitenleven in de provincie Antwerpen 16de-20ste eeuw, Antwerp, 2014.

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Figure 1.2. Jacob Grimmer, View of the Kiel area with the villa rustica of Cornelis de Schot, Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp, inv. Nr. 671. https://lukasweb.be/en/artwork/kiel-antwerp

quickly gained in popularity, eventually giving birth to successful import substitution industries.17 Needless to say, the editors are well aware of the limits and dark sides of the encounters with the Italian peninsula. Of course, there are good reasons to look at the impact of Italian society. Italian bankers introduced new financial techniques in the Low Countries and Italian merchants were probably responsible for important juridical innovations.18 However, recent studies have been sceptical about the alleged influence of Italian merchants. The notary probably evolved independently of the Italian presence in the cities of Flanders and Brabant.19 Thus, historians tend to overemphasise the influence of the Renaissance on other societies. Moreover, the cultural activities of the Italian communities took place independently of local networks. The Genoese academy in Antwerp, for instance, barely interacted with the urban chambers of rhetoric and the impact of their cultural practices was very limited.20 While homicide rates declined in Northwestern Europe, Italian merchants imported violent conflicts from 17 See chapter 12 by Blondé, Puttevils & Sturtewagen in this volume; Inneke Baatsen and Bruno Blondé, “Antwerp and the ‘Material Renaissance’. Exploring the Social and Economic Significance of Crystal Glass and Majolica in the Sixteenth Century”, in The Ashgate Research Companion to Early Modern Material Culture, eds David Gaimster, Tarah Hamling & Catherine Richardson, Farnham, 2015. 18 James M. Murray, “The profession of notary public in medieval Flanders”, in The Legal History Review, 61, 1, 1993, pp. 3–31. 19 Hendrik Callewier, “Brugge, vijftiende-eeuws centrum van het notariaat in de Nederlanden”, in Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis, 77, 2009, pp. 73–102. 20 De Rock, et al., “Handelsnetwerken”.

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their homeland into Antwerp where they carried on vendettas which disturbed urban life.21 It can also be argued that most of the decisive social, political and cultural developments in Antwerp were firmly rooted in endogenous forces rather than resulting from cultural encounters with the Italian peninsula. In his book on the emergence of civil society, Antony Black distinguishes ‘liberal’ ‘civil society’ values such as personal freedom, judicial and political equality and individual independence from a ‘guild ethic’ characterised by such communitarian ideals as fraternity, friendship and mutual aid.22 While the former are considered to be typical North Italian forms of citizenship and republicanism (rooted in Roman law), the latter are said to have developed north of the Alps since the twelfth century.23 Black suggests that the roots of western democracy should rather be sought in the Northwestern tradition of communalism than in the Italian city states of the Renaissance.24 These remarks are also relevant for the political history of Antwerp. The Antwerp city hall clearly referred to the Italian Renaissance with its central inscription SPQA – which was the abbreviation of Senatus Populusque Antverpiensis, a clear reference to the classical Roman SPQR.25 However, the Antwerp republican ideals were not shaped by Italian political ideas but resulted from the Northwestern European tradition of guild republicanism which fundamentally differed from Italian political philosophy.26 Unsurprisingly, these republican ideals were frowned upon in princely circles. Maximilian Morillon, vicar-general of the archbishopric of Mechelen, wrote to Antoine Perrenot, cardinal of Granvelle, in 1567: “It would be a very good thing to make them erase their S.P.Q.A. which they inscribe everywhere on their buildings and edifices, pretending to be a free republic,

21 Maarten F. Van Dijck, De pacificering van de Europese samenleving. Repressie, gedragspatronen en verstedelijking in Brabant tijdens de lange zestiende eeuw, unpublished doctoral thesis University of Antwerp, 2007, pp. 438–43. 22 See chapter 4 by Bert De Munck in this volume. 23 Antony Black, Guild and state: European political thought from the twelfth century to the present, New Brunswick, 2003. 24 Antony Black, “Communal democracy and its history”, in Political Studies, 45, 1, 1997, pp. 5–20. On constitutional liberties in Antwerp see Guido Marnef, “Resistance and the celebration of privileges in sixteenth-century Brabant”, in Public Opinion and Changing Identities in the Early Modern Netherlands. Essays in Honour of Alastair Duke, eds Judith Pollmann & Andrew Spicer, LeidenBoston, 2007, pp. 125–39. 25 See also chapter 6 by Erik Swart in this volume. 26 Wim Blockmans, “Alternatives to Monarchial Centralisation: the Great Tradition of Revolt in Flanders and Brabant”, in Republiken und Republikanismus in Europa der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Helmut Königsberger, München, 1988, pp. 145–54; Heinz Schilling, “Civic republicanism in late medieval and early modern German cities”, in Religion, political culture and the emergence of early modern society, ed. Heinz Schilling, Leiden, 1992, pp. 3–59; Guy Wells, “Emergence and Evanescence: Republicanism and the Res Publica at Antwerp before the Revolt of the Netherlands”, in Republiken und Republikanismus in Europa der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Helmut Königsberger, München, 1988, pp. 155–68.

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and that the prince cannot command them without their consent”.27 Anyway, every cultural encounter went together with appropriation, sometimes even resistance. When early in the sixteenth century clergymen in the service of the Cathedral of Our Lady began to call their study rooms studiolo they manifested themselves as early and keen admirers of an Italianate humanist ideal.28 Yet, while the Italian principles on the function and arrangement of the kitchen were not unknown in Antwerp (architectural treatises pleaded in favour of a gendered, functionally specialised and spatially distinct room), in practice Antwerpers heavily invested in a multifunctional kitchen, home to men and women alike; one that fulfilled a series of functions from the most practical household duties to conviviality and conspicuous representation.29 In his treatise Architectura from 1577 Hans Vredeman de Vries also testifies of a vernacular self-awareness, doing justice to the local ingenuity as opposed to the principles of antiquity.30 Finally, by looking at the Italian community and the diffusion of Renaissance forms and ideas, historians run the risk of ignoring the influence of other migrant groups in Antwerp. According to Lodovico Guicciardini, Antwerp in the middle of the sixteenth century housed as many as 100 Englishmen, 300 Spaniards, 150 Portuguese, 150 South-German and 150 Hansa merchants, 100 French and 200 Italian merchants, next to a large group of ‘local’ Low Countries’ merchants. Historians usually claim that the intense relationships with Italy accounted for a fast take-up of the Italian way of life. Yet, it seems plausible that other groups might have had a significant impact on urban life in Antwerp because they were better integrated in the city: they stayed for longer periods and they intermarried with locals.31 The already mentioned republicanism in Antwerp was probably more influenced by German political traditions than Italian political thinking.32 And, tellingly, when it comes to their material culture, in Antwerp probate inventories explicit references to a Spanish style, as was the case for instance with Spanish chairs, far outnumbered the references to the Venetian, Milanese or Italian background or design of things.33

27 Guido Marnef, Antwerp in the Age of Reformation. Underground Protestantism in a Commercial Metropolis 1550–1577, Baltimore – London, 1996, p. 14. 28 Carolien De Staelen, Spulletjes en hun betekenis in een commerciële metropool. Antwerpenaren en hun materiële cultuur in de zestiende eeuw, unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Antwerp, 2007. 29 Inneke Baatsen, Bruno Blondé & Julie De Groot, “The Kitchen between Representation and Everyday Experience. The Case of Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Trading Values in Early Modern Antwerp, ed. Christine Göttler, Bart Ramakers & Joanna Woodall, Leiden, 2014, pp. 162–85. 30 Krista De Jonghe, “Tales of the City. The image of the Netherlandish Artist in the Sixteenth Century”, in Netherlandish Culture of the Sixteenth Century. Urban Perspectives, Turnhout, 2017, pp. 123–24. 31 De Rock, “Handelsnetwerken”; Subacchi, “The Italian Community”. 32 Olaf Mörke, “The political culture of Germany and the Dutch Republic: Similar roots, different results”, in A Miracle Mirrored. The Dutch Republic in comparative perspective, eds Karel Davids & Jan Lucassen, Cambridge, 1995, pp. 135–72. 33 See the chapter by Blondé, Puttevils & Sturtewagen in this volume.

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1.3. Golden Age Antwerp If we want to understand the specificity of Antwerp in the Renaissance, some clarification on the cultural context of its Golden Age is needed. Antwerp’s economic and demographic growth fuelled a series of social, political and cultural dynamics which eventually proved as important as its economic performance. In the sixteenth century Antwerp gained status as a city of international commerce. Antwerp (now the second-largest city in Belgium) is located on the Scheldt estuary from which the North Sea and the Meuse and Rhine rivers can be reached. Its geostrategic location puts the city in an ideal position to profit from the renewed continental trade and sea-bound traffic of the sixteenth century. In his Delle cause della grandezza e magnificenza delle città (1588) Giovanni Botero emphasises the strategic location of Antwerp as its main attraction or virtù attrattiva.34 This economic powerhouse served as the basis for a cluster of achievements that granted the city metropolitan status.35 In almost no time Antwerp developed from a small medieval town with scarcely 7,000 inhabitants (1374) into the second largest city in Europe north of the Alps.36 At the short-lived pinacle of its economic success in the mid-sixties the city was home to more than 100,000 inhabitants and temporary residents.37 This growth owed a lot to a fundamental redrawing of the European commercial map. Sixteenth-century Europe indeed witnessed the birth of a bi-modal centred structure of economic gravity. Two centres, linked through maritime routes and, increasingly, overland trade, stood out: the major Mediterranean, and more specifically Italian, cities and Northwestern Europe with Antwerp as its main gateway. However, while the growth of the Scheldt city was spectacular, its growth spurt was uneven, and its economic and social base developed in an unbalanced and especially vulnerable way.38 34 Giovanni Botero, “Delle cause della grandezza e magnificenza delle città, 1588”, in On the causes of the greatness and magnificence of cities, ed. Geoffrey Symcox, Toronto, 2012. 35 Peter Burke, “Antwerp, a Metropolis in Europe”, in Antwerp. Story of a Metropolis, 16th-17th Century ed. Jan Van Der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 49–58; Patrick O’Brien, Derek Keene et al. (eds), Urban Achievement in Early Modern Europe. Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, Cambridge, 2001. 36 Herman Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market and the European economy ( fourteenthsixteenth centuries), Den Haag, 1963; Raymond Van Uytven, “Antwerpen: Steuerungszentrum des Europäische Handels und Metropole der Niederlande im 16. Jahrhundert”, in Herrschaft und Verfasungsstrukturen im Nordwesten des Reiches. Beiträge zum Zeitalter Karls V, Köln, 1994, pp. 1–18. 37 Jan Van Roey, “De bevolking”, in Antwerpen in de XVIde eeuw, ed. Walter Couvreur, Antwerpen, 1975, pp. 95–108. 38 Bruno Blondé, “The Sixteenth Century: An Age of Economic and Social Transition? The Economy and Social Structures of ‘s-Hertogenbosch, 1500–1565”, in Towns and Networks in Early Modern Europe, ed. Peter Clark, Leicester, 1990, pp. 44–55; Bruno Blondé & Raymond Van Uytven, “De smalle steden en het Brabantse stedelijke netwerk in de late middeleeuwen en de nieuwe tijd”, in Lira Elegans, 6, 1996, pp. 129–82; Raymond Van Uytven, “In de schaduwen van de Antwerpse groei: het Hageland in de zestiende eeuw”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 57, 1974, pp. 171–88; Raymond Van Uytven, “Brabantse en Antwerpse centrale plaatsen (14de-19de eeuw)”, in Het stedelijk netwerk in België in historisch perspectief (1350–1850). Een statistische en dynamische benadering, Brussel, 1992, pp. 29–79.

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As is well known, the history of the city is often described in terms of a ‘Golden Age’.39 The “Golden Age” of Antwerp, however, only coincided with the years 1535–1565, thirty years in which Antwerp transformed into a more or less permanent international market.40 In this period Antwerp also acquired the undisputed commercial leadership of the Netherlands. In the period between February 1542 and September 1545 the city on the river Scheldt monopolised about 76% of all exports leaving the Low Countries by water or road.41 Trade with Germany continued to be of the utmost importance; the transit trade in spices and the export of finished English cloth especially played a key role along this axis. Meanwhile trade with the Baltic and with southern Europe was at least as decisive. Thanks to its colonial expansion, Spain possessed large amounts of silver, hence purchasing power, especially on the Antwerp market. A variety of products were exported to the Iberian peninsula, among which were linen, cloth, tapestries and a variety of household goods. Italian merchants bought English and Flemish kerseys, say from Hondschoote, as well as Flemish linen, often to re-export them to the Levant. Among the Italian imports, silk occupied a special place.42 The second third of the sixteenth century, moreover, was strongly supported by rocketing English cloth exports. English Merchant Adventures flocked to Antwerp and functioned as market makers there. An English traveller even went so far as to claim that: “saying yf Enghlysmens ffathers were hanged in the Gates of Antwarpe their children wolde crepe betwixt their legs to come into the saide towne”.43 Growth again slowed down from the sixties of the century onwards, and a multitude of factors account for the reversal of the tide. Antwerp obviously owed almost everything to its position in international trade. At the same time, however, that was also its major weakness, as became apparent during the English-Habsburg wars, a conflict that undermined the vital cloth trade. In 1563–1564 Elisabeth I moved the English cloth staple monopoly to Emden and Hamburg. In 1568–1573, the Duke of Alba again hampered the cloth trade with a trade embargo against England.44 Fortunately, Antwerp withstood these crises, among other things thanks to the resilience of some of its own export industries, yet in 1585 the besieged city – in which a Calvinist republic was

39 Leon Voet, De Gouden Eeuw van Antwerpen. Bloei en uitstraling van de metropool in de zestiende eeuw, Antwerpen, 1973; Jan Van der Stock, “Prologue”, in Antwerp. Story of a Metropolis, 16th-17th Century, ed. Jan Van Der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 7–8. 40 Herman Van der Wee, “Trade in the Southern Netherlands, 1493–1587”, in The Low Countries in the early modern world, Herman Van der Wee, Aldershot, 1993, pp. 87–114. 41 Clé Lesger, The rise of the Amsterdam market and information exchange: merchants, commercial expansion and change in the spatial economy of the Low Countries, c. 1550–1630, Aldershot, 2006; Jeroen Puttevils, “‘Eating the bread out of their mouth’: Antwerp’s export trade and generalized institutions, 1544–5”, in The Economic History Review, 68/4, 2015, pp. 1339–64. 42 Wilfrid Brulez, “The balance of trade of the Netherlands in the middle of the 16th century”, in Acta historiae Neerlandica, 4, 1970, pp. 20–48; Puttevils, “‘Eating the bread out of their mouth’”. 43 Voet, De Gouden Eeuw, p. 258. 44 Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, pp. 153–55; George Daniel Ramsay, The Queen’s merchants and the revolt of the Netherlands: the end of the Antwerp mart, Manchester, 1986.

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installed – fell into the hands of the Duke of Parma, Alexander Farnese. With the Spanish Reconquista of Antwerp, a new episode in the history of the city would be written. Though early-seventeenth-century Antwerp still experienced an “Indian summer”, tens of thousands had left the town, causing an enormous brain and capital drain. By 1586 scarcely 48,000 inhabitants were left, and in all respects the aggregate qualitative losses outstripped this quantitative setback.45 The dissident attitude of the Antwerp city government during the religious troubles was not unconnected with the economic developments of the sixteenth century. In the first place, the presence of German trade communities and international intellectual networks certainly fostered the spread of Protestantism. Secondly, the urban elite was afraid that the harsh prosecution of dissident religious beliefs would harm the commercial interests of the city, which contributed to a rather lenient attitude towards religious diversity. Thirdly, Antwerp’s economic growth produced social groups with a strong adherence to Protestant ideas.46 In fact, the Antwerp economic boom resulted in a social fabric that differed markedly from that of most Italian city states. Indeed, the Antwerp middling groups did not experience the huge decrease in living standards which affected the Italian peninsula (see infra).47 We can get an approximation of Antwerp’s wealth when we consider the city’s Gross Urban Income in the sixteenth century. Thanks to a comparison with ‘s-Hertogenbosch, a town for which a series of very reliable tax data were available, it becomes possible to get at least a rough idea of the possible magnitude of urban income in the sixteenth-century metropolis.48 For ‘s-Hertogenbosch Jord Hanus arrived at a fairly reliable estimate of Gross Urban Income in 1569 of 803,000 fl., which equates to an estimated per capita income of about 45.9 fl. This figure was inferred from the town’s contribution to the hundredth penny tax of Alva, which is also available for Antwerp, where the immovable properties contribution yielded an astonishing 122,525 fl.49 If, as a crude and defensive proxy, 45 Wilfrid Brulez, “Anvers de 1585 à 1650”, in Vierteljahresschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 54/1, 1967, pp. 75–99. 46 Herman Van der Wee, “The economy as a factor in the start of the revolt in the Southern Netherlands”, in Acta Historiae Neerlandicae, 5, 1971, pp. 52–67; Herman Van der Wee, “Urban Culture as a Factor of Demand in the Economic History of Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe”, in La ville et la transmission des valeurs culturelles au bas moyen âge et aux temps moderne. Actes du 17ième Colloque International Spa 16–19.V.1994, Bruxelles, 1996, pp. 7–16; An Kint, “Becoming civic community: citizenship in sixteenth-century Antwerp”, in Statuts individuels, statuts corporatifs et statuts judiciaires dans les villes européennes (moyen âge et temps modernes). Actes du colloque tenu à Gand les 12–14 octobre 1995. Individual, corporate and judicial status in European cities (late middle ages and early modern period). Proceedings of the colloquium Ghent, October 12th-14th 1995, eds Marc Boone & Maarten Prak. Leuven, 1996, pp. 157–69; Marnef, Antwerp in the Age of Reformation. 47 Robert C. Allen, “The Great Divergence in European Wages and Prices from the Middle Ages to the First World War”, in Economic History Review, 38/4, 2001, pp. 411–47. 48 Jord Hanus, Affluence and Inequality in the Low Countries. The City of ‘s-Hertogenbosch in the Long Sixteenth Century, 1500–1650, Leuven, 2014. 49 Maurice-Aurélien Arnould, “L’impôt sur le capital en Belgique au XVIe siècle”, in Le Hainaut économique, 1946, pp. 17–45; Peter Stabel, Filip Vermeylen, Het fiscale vermogen in Brabant, Vlaanderen en in de heerlijkheid Mechelen: de Honderdste Penning van de hertog van Alva (1569–1572), Brussel, 1997.

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the relationship between the value of built immovable properties and urban income is considered more or less constant for both towns, then the GUI in Antwerp may have equalled 14,352,673 fl.50 With a population of approximately 104,000 inhabitants, this would imply a per capita income of 138 fl. If one accounts for only the ‘core population’ of the city at that time, i.e. the almost 90,000 more or less permanent inhabitants of the town, the per capita income even rises to 160 guilders. Compared to the existing estimates for ‘s-Hertogenbosch in 1569 (45.9 fl.) and Holland in 1510–1514 (24.9 fl.) and in the mid-eighteenth century (152 fl.), this figure might look slightly optimistic.51 But it has an obvious rationale. House rents (and immovable property) are indeed extremely sensitive to economic growth, as Hugo Soly – among many others – has already extensively argued.52 In this sense, the rapidly rising Antwerp house rents clearly reflect the spectacular economic growth of the town. This per capita urban income figure clearly puts Antwerp far above any rivalling urban economy at that time, but this finding is not at odds with what both contemporary observers and economic historians have been arguing. In fact, several scholars pointed to the geographical polarisation in which Antwerp managed to attract several high-value-added industries, sometimes at the expense of nearby urban economies.53 Moreover, this claim is not falsified by the rather high figures of per capita wine and beer consumption that are indicative of a prosperous urban population.54 Departing from an estimated population of about 84,000 in 1585 nominal per capita incomes at the eve of the fall of the city would have diminished slightly to fl. 130.55 When

50 See for a discussion of the relationship between income and house rental values Wouter Ryckbosch, “Economic inequality and growth before the industrial revolution: the case of the Low Countries (fourteenth to nineteenth centuries)”, European Review of Economic History, 20, 1, 2015, pp. 1–22. 51 Hanus, Affluence and Inequality, p. 10; Jan Luiten Van Zanden, “Taking the measure of the early modern economy: historical national accounts for Holland in 1510/14”, in European Review of Economic History, 6, 2, 2002, pp. 131–63. 52 Hugo Soly, “De schepenregisters als bron voor de conjunctuurgeschiedenis van Zuid- en Noordnederlandse steden in het Ancien Régime. Een concreet voorbeeld: de Antwerpse immobiliënmarkt in de 16de eeuw”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 87, 1974, pp. 521–44; Etienne Scholliers, “Un indice de loyer: les loyers anversois de 1500 à 1873”, in Studi in onore di Amintore Fanfani, Milan, 1962, pp. 593–617. 53 Raymond Van Uytven, “In de schaduwen van de Antwerpse groei: het Hageland in de zestiende eeuw”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 57, 1974, pp. 171–88; Bruno Blondé & Raymond Van Uytven, “De smalle steden en het Brabantse stedelijke netwerk in de Late Middeleeuwen en de Nieuwe Tijd”, in Lira Elegans, 6, 1996, pp. 129–82. 54 Raymond Van Uytven & Bruno Blondé, “Wijnverbruik te Antwerpen en ‘s-Hertogenbosch in de zestiende eeuw”, in Liber amicorum Dr J Scheerder Tijdingen uit Leuven over de Spaanse Nederlanden, de Leuvense Universiteit en Historiografie, eds Aloïs Jans & Jozef Scheerder, Leuven, 1987. pp. 107–26. 55 Gilberte Degueldre, Kadastrale ligger van Antwerpen (1584–1585) proeve van reconstructie op de vooravond van de scheiding der Nederlanden, 14 dln., Antwerpen: Felix Archief, 2011 documents a total rental value of 632,694 guilders, which reckoning with a 1/16th ratio equals an immovable stock value of about 10,123,114 guilders. Working with the same assumptions employed in the 1569-estimates yields the recorded per capita income of 130 guilders. The exercise is not falsified with the house rental values which, departing from the database of Etienne Scholliers, would have stablised more or less in nominal terms between 1569 and 1585. Scholliers, “Un indice” pp. 593–617.

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we subsequentely account for the inflation, a reduction of the per capita income in real terms to 58% of the 1569-level is suggested. This is, again, corroborated by the available evidence on wine consumption around 1585. The metropolis was a rich city. Köstlich or rich is the most frequently used adjective in Albrecht Dürer’s diary of his visit to Antwerp in 1520–1521.56 Yet income and wealth were unequally distributed. While native merchant capitalists grew rich through expanding commercial opportunities, at the same time, wage labourers hardly profited from these economic opportunities. They lost ground, especially in the first four decades of the sixteenth century when wages lagged far behind rising prices.57 To a large extent, moreover, small wage advantages were rapidly eroded by rising house rents. Moreover, economic expansion sometimes comes at a cost. While apprentices increasingly failed to become masters and continued to work as journeymen instead, independent craftsmen quite often de facto demoted themselves to semi-wage-labourers at the service of big international merchants or large master-entrepreneurs, something which also applied to master craftsmen in other towns of the Antwerp urban network.58 Several social historians were indeed quick to evidence the loss of control that master craftsmen experienced through the growth of export industries.59 In short, while Antwerp experienced its “Golden Age”, it offered the scene of a society where semi- and unskilled labourers did not profit proportionally from economic growth, even though purchasing power in sixteenth-century Antwerp was comparatively speaking favourable.60 Social inequality loomed large. This is hardly surprising as an outcome for a buoyant commercial metropolis, but several existing social networks and solidarities came under severe pressure as well.61 Meanwhile a harsh social policy towards beggars and landless people developed in most towns of the Southern Low Countries.62 56 Henri Plard, “Anvers dans la ‘Journal de Voyage aux Pays Bas’ de Dürer (1520–1521)”, in Lodovico Guicciardini (1521–1589). Actes du Colloque international des 28, 29 et 30 mars 1990, ed. Pierre Jodogne, Leuven, 1991, p. 243. 57 Etienne Scholliers, “De materiële verschijningsvorm van de armoede voor de industriële revolutie. Omvang, evolutie en oorzaken”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 88, 1975, pp. 451–64; Etienne Scholliers, Loonarbeid en honger. De levensstandaard in de XVe en XVIe eeuw te Antwerpen, Antwerpen, 1960, p. 18. 58 Etienne Scholliers, “Vrije en onvrije arbeiders, voornamelijk te Antwerpen in de 16de eeuw”, in Bijdragen voor de geschiedenis der Nederlanden, 11, 1956, pp. 285–322; Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, “Corporatisme, onderaanneming en loonarbeid. Flexibilisering en deregulering van de arbeidsmarkt in Westeuropese steden (veertiende tot achttiende eeuw)”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale geschiedenis, 20, 1994, pp. 369–70; Bert De Munck, “One Counter and Your Own Account: Redefining Illicit Labour in Early Modern Antwerp”, in Urban History, 37, 1, 2010, pp. 26–44; Bruno Blondé, De sociale structuren en economische dynamiek van ‘s-Hertogenbosch, 1500–1550, Tilburg, 1987. 59 See chapter 5 by De Munck in this volume. 60 Allen, “The great divergence”, pp. 411–47; Etienne Scholliers, “Le pouvoir d’achat dans les PaysBas au XVIe siècle”, in Album aangeboden aan Charles Verlinden ter gelegenheid van zijn dertig jaar professoraat, Gent, 1975. pp. 305–30. 61 See also chapters 4 and 5 by De Munck and Masure in this volume. 62 Hugo Soly, “Social relations in Antwerp in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries”, in Antwerp Story of a metropolis, 16th-17th century, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 37–47; Bruno Blondé, Frederik Buylaert, Jan Dumolyn, Jord Hanus & Peter Stabel, “Samenleven in de stad: sociale

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This strong emphasis on growing inequality is at odds, however, with the central hypothesis of Herman Van der Wee on the size and income position of the urban middling classes in sixteenth-century Antwerp.63 The contribution of these urban middling layers to urban society is one of the major threads running through the urban history of the Low Countries – Antwerp provides no exception.64 It is not possible to appreciate the Antwerp renaissance fully without taking into account the importance of its middling sort of people, both as producers and consumers, especially in a city that was largely deprived of a local nobility. It is difficult to overestimate the importance of these middling groups. Indeed, ever since the nineteenth century they have been described as one of the driving forces of European modernity.65 Recent attempts to emphasise the uniqueness of the Italian Renaissance of the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries also pointed to the importance of the middling groups. The growth of urban centres and the rise of broad middle groups are now identified as the crucial features of the Renaissance.66 In Antwerp the middling groups, however internally differentiated, also played a crucial role in cultural life. In a comparative perspective Antwerp was notoriously missing in the early history of the public theatre, but on closer inspection, this paradox can easily be explained by the strength, omnipresence and flexibility of chambers of rhetoricians in which the urban middle groups played a significant role.67 Unsurprisingly, moreover, these chambers creatively borrowed from the new Italian style as well, although not uncritically, as Herman Pleij argues in this volume.68 The position of the middle groups went hand in glove with a strong commercial culture, eventually leading to a “community of commerce” trope that percolated down into almost all aspects of urban society, and that was among many others articulated through the numerous representations of the city, as is evidenced by Jelle De Rock in this volume.69 This predominance and splendour of international commerce should not blind us to the fact that Antwerp at the very same time was also a city of shopkeepers. This finding holds true in the first place for the army of retailers themselves, who – in spite of an enormous internal variety – grew into an affluent and important social group. Around the middle of the sixteenth century, no fewer than two hundred new mercers registered as

relaties tussen ideaal en realiteit”, in Gouden eeuwen. Stad en samenleving in de Lage Landen (1100– 1600), eds Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Bruno Blondé & Marc Boone, Gent, 2016, pp. 76–120. 63 Herman Van der Wee, “The economy as a factor in the start of the revolt in the Southern Netherlands”, in Acta Historiae Neerlandicae, 5, 1975, pp. 52–67. 64 Bruno Blondé, Marc Boone & Anne-Laure Van Bruaene (eds), City and Society in the Low Countries (1100–1600), Cambridge, 2018. 65 Jürgen Kocka, “The middle classes in Europe”, in Journal of Modern History, 67, 4, 1995, pp. 783–806; Peter N. Stearns, “The middle class: toward a precise definition”, in Comparative Studies in Society and History, 21, 3, 1979, pp. 377–96. 66 Guido Ruggiero, “Introduction”, in A Companion to the Worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford, 2002, pp. 1–20. 67 See chapter 7 by Anne-Laure Van Bruaene in this volume. 68 See chapter 8 by Herman Pleij in this volume. 69 See also chapter 10 by Jelle De Rock. Soly, “Social relations”; Kint, The community of commerce.

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members of the retailers’ guild.70 On the eve of the Fall of the City in 1584/85, about 25% of a sample of about 10,000 inhabitants was commercially active.71 And, while it has been argued that a considerable number of independent craftsmen in practice fell victim to proletarisation in the service of commercial capitalists, a whole series of specialised artists and craftsmen profited enormously from the expansion of local luxury industries that piggybacked on the economic growth of the city. In most of these industries, a tension between guild regulations and the merchants’ (and ‘large entrepreneurs’) predilection for ‘laissez faire’ matured. While guild-based masters tried to block the import of finished products, they guarded their autonomous status of producer – prohibiting merchants from entering into production (without having finished an apprenticeship term and master piece) by employing masters (instead of buying the finished products from them).72 The growth of the artists’ guild of Saint Luke is also a consequence of the mixture of economic and cultural flourishing. After having welcomed about 300 new members in the second half of the fifteenth century, the guild inscribed about the same number in the first two decades of the sixteenth century. Early in the sixteenth century, Antwerp painters felt the need to travel to Italy to study the Italian Renaissance and Antiquity in situ.73 While in this early phase a cultural mixture with gothic design still dominated, later in the sixteenth century the artistic language of the High Renaissance would gain full speed. The Italian Renaissance – to finish this incomplete list – even served as a model for furniture design.74 Subsequently, a process of intellectual emancipation took place among artists. While the guild of Saint Luke was home to both artists and artisans such as panel makers, other guilds grouped handicraftsmen and workers with artistic ambitions. This was for example the case with the guild of the Four Crowned, which included, among others, masons and stone cutters.75 Around 1600, however, the stone cutters wanted to go their own way, as they considered their ‘art’ (conste) to be superior to the ‘mere handiwork’ of masons. Building on the antique distinction between the ‘mechanical arts’ and the ‘liberal arts’, artists had learned to cultivate a discourse in which art was not only a hands-on skill,

70 Peter Neelen, Het Antwerpse meerseniersambacht in de zestiende eeuw, unpublished master dissertation Free University of Brussels, 1997. 71 Van Roey, “De bevolking”. 72 Bert De Munck, “La qualité du corporatisme. Stratégies économiques et symboliques des corporations anversoises du XVe siècle à leur abolition”, in Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, 54, 1, 2007, pp. 116–44; Bert De Munck, “Gilding Golden Ages. Perspectives From Early Modern Antwerp on the Guild-Debate, c. 1450 – c. 1650”, in European Review of Economic History, 15, 2011, pp. 221–53; De Munck, “One Counter”. 73 Hans Vlieghe, “The fine and decorative in Antwerp’s Golden Age”, in Urban achievement, pp. 173–85. 74 See among others Ria Fabri, “Perspectives in wood: Hans Vredeman de Vries and the designs for intarsia and civil furniture”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries and the artes mechanicae revisited, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 153–68. 75 Zirka Zaremba Filipczak, Picturing art in Antwerp, 1550–1700, Princeton, 1987; Elizabeth Alice Honig, Painting and the market in early modern Antwerp, New Haven, 1998.

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but an intellectual activity similar to that of the ‘men of letters’.76 Likewise, as Herman Pleij asserts in this volume, Anna Bijns preferred to praise her colleagues, as herself, as “ingenious minds”.77 One could again ask, however, whether this development is indebted to the Italian Renaissance or should rather be traced back to the late middle ages via the artistic milieus in, among others, the County of Flanders. Moreover, how should one relate this growing self-confidence of artists to such Renaissance-like ideals as autonomy and self-reflexivity? In the long run, artists like Peter-Paul Rubens appear to have emancipated themselves from the guilds. Almost simultaneously however, they started to move from producing on order (in the context of patronage relationships) to production ‘on spec’ (for a more anonymous market).78 Was the autonomous individual indeed co-emerging with the free market, as common sense would have it? The idea, popularised by Roberto Lopez, that culture and art thrived because of the lack of other investment opportunities in the fourteenth century has its modern-day complement in the idea that innovation (‘creative destruction’ in Schumpeterian terms) is needed to avoid economic stagnation.79 The Antwerp printing press, finally, may illustrate the ways in which the bourgeois and commercial nature of Antwerp heavily influenced its cultural and social produce.80 The city owed its pole position in printing and editing to a variety of economies of agglomeration. At the occasion of his settlement in Antwerp the famous printer Christophe Plantin declared: “What made me decide this was the fact that, in my opinion, no town in the world provides more advantages for the profession I wanted to pursue. It is easy to get there, one sees different countries get together at the market; one finds all the raw materials which are indispensable for my craft; for all professions, there is no problem in finding labourers who can be instructed within a short time”.81 Hence, during the second half of the sixteenth century, the city housed more than half of all active printers of the Southern Netherlands. Together they produced about 65% of all the printing output and from a qualitative viewpoint their lead was more marked still.82

76 Bert De Munck, “Corpses, live models, and nature assessing skills and knowledge before the industrial revolution (Case: Antwerp)”, in Technology and Culture, 51, 2, 2010, pp. 332–56; Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, Worthy efforts: attitudes to work and workers in pre-industrial Europe, Leiden, 2012, pp. 370–400. 77 See chapter 8 by Herman Pleij in this volume. 78 See Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the market: commercialization of art in Antwerp’s Golden Age, Turnhout, 2003. 79 Robert Sabatino Lopez, “Hard times and investment in culture”, in The Renaissance: a symposium, New York, 1953, pp. 19–32. 80 Werner Waterschoot, “Antwerp: books, publishing and cultural production before 1585”, in Urban Achievement, pp. 233–48. 81 Michael Limberger, “‘No town in the world provides more advantages’: economies of agglomeration and the golden age of Antwerp”, in Urban achievement, pp. 39–62. 82 Leon Voet, The golden compasses: a history and evaluation of the printing and publishing activities of the Officina Plantiniana at Antwerp, Amsterdam, 1969, pp. 470–94.

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1.4. Introducing the Book This book does not cover every facet of the history of Antwerp’s Golden Age, nor does it explore all possibilities for an in-depth reflection of the Renaissance in the city on the river Scheldt.83 It does bring together a group of historians working on sixteenth-century Antwerp from different angles. It presents wellthought-out overviews as well as fascinating new research into the city’s history. One may lament the absence of separate chapters on Protestantism, printing, humanism or the city government. Fortunately, these topics (that are covered by an abundant literature) are also discussed when they relate to the specific themes of the chapters: printing is for example pivotal for the so-called paper architecture and for the appropriation and spread of mercantile practices (De Jonge, Lombaerde & Maclot; Puttevils) and humanism is explicitly tackled in the chapter on literature and in that on legal developments (Pleij; De Ruysscher). Sixteenth-century Antwerp was first and foremost a city of commerce, if not a community of commerce. Unsurprisingly then, this book opens with two chapters dealing with commerce and the developments it generated. Jeroen Puttevils focuses on the merchants from the Low Countries, not on the often-discussed English, Portuguese, Hansa or other foreign traders. It is the local merchants coming from various places in the Low Countries and relying on Antwerp as their operational hub to acquire significant market shares in many important European trading centres that figure central stage. Chapter 2 characterises sixteenth-century Antwerp as an atypical city which was more prone to further the interests of foreign merchants than those coming from the Low Countries themselves. Despite this treatment the number of native merchants grew as the result of their adopting foreign business practices, the availability of printed merchants’ manuals (Ars mercatoria) and other forms of merchant education and their access to popular Low Countries commodities and flexible finance. Low Countries merchants trading out of Antwerp relied on an old yet transformed financial instrument: the bond or obligation. The transformation of the bond is a clear example of imperfect imitation – when copied to another context, ideas and concepts could develop into something new and innovative – so typical of the Renaissance. In chapter 3 Dave De Ruysscher considers changes in Antwerp law in terms of three types of Renaissance: legal humanism which aimed at reconstructing classical Roman law from the mid-1400s onwards; academic legal culture based on the scholastic understanding of Roman law texts; the Transalpine Renaissance or the intensification of commercial contacts between Italy and the Low Countries from the late fifteenth century onwards. De Ruysscher shows how changes in Antwerp law resulted from an interplay between mercantile practices, late medieval legal literature and contemporary, humanist interpretations. If necessary, new commercial practices could quickly 83 This book should certainly be read in conjunction with Ethan Matt Kavaler & Anne-Laure Van Bruaene (eds), Netherlandish Culture of the Sixteenth Century. Urban Perspectives, (Studies in European Urban History, 41), Turnhout, Brepols, 2017 in which Antwerp is omnipresent (p. xi).

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Figure 1.3. Anonymous, Antwerpia in Brabancia, 1520-1540, © MAS Antwerpen https://dams.antwerpen.be/asset/cGfMsrEiyYeJXpMgVnz0ess1

be absorbed within academic legal schemes. This is in line with a recent interpretation by Oscar Gelderblom of sixteenth-century Antwerp as a welcoming, open-access market.84 Because of inter-city competition for the profits from trade, cities such as Antwerp had to provide merchants with suitable infrastructure, clear rules and efficient institutions to remain attractive as a market. Antwerp’s “Golden Age” came at a cost, though.85 The growing population and the city’s rapid economic transformations strongly affected Antwerp’s societal fabric.86 Hitherto, aspects of brotherhood among members of craft guilds have been somewhat neglected in Low Countries historiography, in contrast to research on Italian craft guilds (arti) and confraternities (scuole). Starting from the different political cultures and ideologies in north western and Italian towns, Bert De Munck investigated sixteenth-century Antwerp’s craft guilds and describes how fraternal characteristics and friendship declined among Antwerp guild members (chapter 4). Instead, such social relations formalised and turned mutual assistance into mutual insurance. This formalisation was driven by Antwerp’s economic changes: formalisation of guild rules and the bureaucratisation of the guilds were defensive bottom-up strategies to exclude entrepreneurs who sought to circumvent the guild. Yet, over time, the equality 84 Oscar C. Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce. The Institutional Foundations of International Trade in the Low Countries, 1250–1650, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013. 85 Bruno Blondé, Frederik Buylaert, Jan Dumolyn, Jord Hanus & Peter Stabel, “Living Together in the City: Social Relationships between Norm & Practice”, in City and Society in the Low Countries, 1100–1800, eds Bruno Blondé, Marc Boone & Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Cambridge, 2018, pp. 59–61. 86 An Kint, The Community of Commerce: Social Relations in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp, Unpublished PhD-thesis Columbia University, 1996.

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between masters weakened, as is evidenced by the numerous guilds that started to increase the maximum number of journeymen a guild master could employ. Meanwhile mutual assistance was increasingly replaced with mutual insurance, as is evidenced by the establishment and strong formalisation of poor boxes. In the fifth chapter, Hadewijch Masure starts with a similar question, originating from the insights from Italian confraternity studies. Italian confraternities underwent processes of hierarchisation and elitarisation, processes which historians have attributed to the region’s economic decline and the Catholic Reformation. Masure recognises similar processes in sixteenth-century Antwerp confraternities when looking at their membership, activities, ideology and governance. The fast population growth and resultant anonymisation are considered to be the primary reasons for the transformations Antwerp confraternities experienced. In chapter 6 Erik Swart’s description of Antwerp’s urban militia provides readers with an insight into political events of the sixteenth century, of the way Antwerp functioned politically, of the political ideology of the militias and of the so-called Military Revolution which the city and its militias faced. This chapter draws parallels between the Military Revolution and the Renaissance and looks for civic humanism and humanistic, classical references used in a military context. Swart narrates the fascinating years 1577–1585 when Antwerp was effectively an independent city-state ruled by its civic guard and militias. Anne-Laure Van Bruaene (chapter 7) turns to urban festivals in sixteenth-century Antwerp, often organised by rederijkerskamers. Such urban festivities have a long historiography which has contrasted the intended community-building aspects of these events with their growing sophistication and the widening discrepancy between elite organisers and the majority of the urban population. In line with An Kint who developed the idea that a “community of commerce” rhetoric helped to overcome social tensions in sixteenth-century Antwerp, Van Bruaene formulates a hypothesis about the festive culture as part of a ‘counterfeit community’. Clearly, the rapid growth of the city and the large number of immigrants, also among the middling sort of people and among artists that disproportionately populated the chambers of rhetoricians, offered the opportunity for a shameless and ‘invented tradition’-wise staging of the metropolis as a city based on commerce, peace and knowledge. It transcended urban divisions and did so by constant innovation and reinterpretation and by drawing intensively on prints. Yet, sixteenth-century Antwerp was also challenged by religious diversity and growing political instability, rendering the concept of community problematic. Much as was the case with artists, this challenged rhetoricians to develop a public master narrative that succeeded in overcoming political tensions and religious divides as the sixteenth century progressed. Herman Pleij, too, stresses the importance of the rederijkers and provides an overview of the literary renaissance of the sixteenth century, based on the vernacular, new text genres and reference to classical Antiquity (chapter 8). Pleij focuses on the little-known Antwerp-produced literature, and the multiple product innovations targeting an urban mercantile bourgeoisie. The latter were developed in a literary scene that was not too heavily burdened by tradition, hence the almost compulsory need for literary innovation. A good case

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can be made, according to Pleij, for the fact that Antwerp was not the prelude for the renaissance literature, as many scholars working on the seventeenth century would have it. This Antwerp literature drew on classical models but did not slavishly copy; authors such as Anna Bijns castigated the heathen and unvirtuous aspects of the classical past. The ‘material city’ is dealt with in the last four chapters of this volume. In chapter 9 Krista De Jonghe, Piet Lombaerde and Petra Maclot consider the development and transformation of the built environment in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. This chapter acquaints the reader with the rapidly changing physical city. The authors give a face to the architects and entrepreneurs behind this transformation, who imported and remoulded “Renaissance” (in the sense of Italian and/or referring to Classic Antiquity) architectural styles with local traditions and innovations. The building campaigns not only produced changes within Antwerp itself; drawings and prints of new Antwerp buildings – paper architecture – spread out from the Scheldt town along with many building craftsmen and architects, a process which intensified towards the end of the sixteenth century, fostering the spread of renaissance models outside the city walls. Jelle De Rock illustrates how the self-fashioning of the Antwerp identity was achieved through the cartographic iconography of the material city (chapter 10). Chorography indeed can be considered a textbook renaissance genre. Again, the fast expansion of the town and its successive morphological changes account for a rapid succession of up-to-date town views that appealed to a large audience. The printing of these town views was triggered not only by Antwerp’s rapid spatial growth, but also by a strong tradition of painted city portraits, a large group of potential buyers and a developed humanistic print culture. This neophilia pushed city view producers to innovate, by drawing on foreign (among which Italian) influences and to come up with original ways of representing the city. As such, the production of city views was characterised by Peter Burke’s typical Renaissance ‘heterogenesis’. This multitude of different town views can be considered a textbook example of the product innovations that were typical for many Antwerp luxury industries. Hence, material culture in the form of art and luxuries occupies the last two chapters of this book. It has always been at the forefront of Renaissance studies, not least because of the strong visibility of the period’s artefacts in the world’s most visited museums. Art especially has long been a constitutive part of the Renaissance narrative and the production and marketing of art in sixteenth-century Antwerp is by no means an underexplored topic either. Karel Van Mander already wrote in his Schilderboeck (1604): “Like Antwerp in our Low Countries resembles a mother of artists, as Florence in Italy did before… The famous and wonderful town of Antwerp, wealthy through commerce, has lured in the best of the arts, many of which went to Antwerp, since art likes to be close to wealth”.87 Albrecht Dürer was only one of the visitors who was thoroughly inspired by what he saw in

87 Karel Van Mander, Het schilder-boeck, Haarlem, 1604, 219r.

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Antwerp. Koenraad Jonckheere describes how the Antwerp art scene, painting especially, was shaped by the absence of a strong fifteenth-century example. Henceforth Italian influences, product and process innovations, Protestantism and iconoclasm were but a few of the – often contradicting – forces that eventually shaped the pluriformity of the art market. Hence, dealing with the Antwerp art market from the renaissance perspective is both revealing and problematic, as Jonckheere argues. It highlights the extreme importance of Italian and antique examples, yet fails to acknowledge the ‘trial and error’ that came hand in glove with the complex social, political and religious context in which art evolved. Eventually, the social architecture of the city with its strong middling layers of society also left its mark on the artistic production. In the concluding chapter Blondé, Sturtewagen and Puttevils elaborate further on this and put the debate on the ‘material renaissance’ at centre stage. Historiographically, inspired by Jacob Burckhardt and Richard Goldthwaite, this debate traditionally focused upon the Italian peninsula. Yet, the history of the Low Countries’ silk industry shows indeed how import substitution also triggered industrial appropriation. While high-end silks continued to lure urban elites, a whole series of product, process and fashion innovations in the Low Countries contributed to the diffusion of (semi-)silks in the dress of the buoyant urban middling sort of people. This is a common feature of the Antwerp material culture, the authors argue. It also applied to the arts (see chapter 11 by Jonckheere) and can be recognised in the Antwerp majolica production as well. The Low Countries critically contributed through the development of a material culture for the middling sort of people. In many respects the Antwerp material culture of the sixteenth century pre-configures a model that most authors would associate with the late early modern material culture changes at the earliest. Rhetoricians and historians alike excelled in defining the master narrative of the ‘city of commerce’ as a key defining component of the Antwerp identity. Upon closer inspection no such single master narrative can be developed to describe the successes of the sixteenth-century metropolis, its engagement with the Renaissance nor for the frictions that came with the ascent of the commercial metropolis. Yet, recurrent red lines throughout this book, were – apart from the complex appropriation of the Renaissance within the local context and history – the absence of a strong tradition and existing models. In combination with the rapid growth of the town this fostered processes of cultural, economic and social innovation. Importantly enough, the ‘community of commerce’ flourished in the near-absence of a local nobility. Rather it was merchants and broad middling layers that set the tone in the sixteenth-century metropolis. In line with the ‘imperfect imitation’ that was mentioned above, economic growth, social polarisation and religious openness also contributed to the complex of factors that account for the innovativeness of Renaissance Antwerp.

Jeroen Puttevils  

Sixteenth-Century Antwerp, a Hyper-Market for All? The Case of Low Countries Merchants* 2.1. Introduction In 1565, shortly after a mutual trade boycott had paralysed Anglo-Low Countries trade for months and while the negotiations between the city of Antwerp, the governess of the Low Countries in Brussels, the English Crown and the English Merchant Adventurers to arrange a new trade treaty were still ongoing, an anonymous author wrote the following libel: We now understand that the Antwerp city magistrates are starting to see things more clearly. I am wondering why they who are so wise and famous do not try to secure or stabilise the prosperity of the city. Until now, they have left that prosperity and attached it (as is evident in their own words and deeds) to the wavering English Nation which daily threatens to divert trade elsewhere and effectively did so. Should the [Brussels] court not have tried to stabilise trade by trying to divert most of it into the hands of its [Antwerp] citizens? Those citizens are the great hope and would attract other nations which could not threaten to take away their trade. This would ensure the city’s and the country’s prosperity. The citizens (becoming rich merchants) will spend their acquired wealth, embellishing the city, providing work for the common master citizen, as they did in Florence, Genoa, and other cities which flourish still. The example of Bruges should be kept in mind: if more trade had been controlled by [Bruges’] citizens (even if the [foreign] merchants had left), the citizens would have lured the merchants back in after the war, while now they have to follow the nations. But there were never more than twelve merchants in Bruges trading abroad […] the lords [of Antwerp] should be more careful in their decisions.1





* The title is loosely based on Brian Dietz, “Antwerp and London: the structure and balance of trade in the 1560s”, in Wealth and power in Tudor England: essays presented to S. T. Bindoff, eds E. W. Ives, R. J. Knecht & J. J. Scarisbrick, London, 1978, pp. 186–203. He characterised Antwerp as having “all the conveniences of a hyper-market for international buying and selling”. This chapter is a partial summary of my PhD dissertation, published later as Jeroen Puttevils, Merchants and Trading in the Sixteenth Century: The Golden Age of Antwerp, London, 2015. 1 CAA, Privilegiekamer, Engelse Natie, Pk # 1059, fourth bundle, cited in Oskar de Smedt, De Engelse natie te Antwerpen, I, Antwerpen, 1950, p. 314. “Voirts verstaen wij dat de heeren van Antwerpen de sake wat beter beginnen in te sien/ Ick my verwonderende sy tselve niet eer geconsidereert hebben die so wijs te sien vermaert sijn ende dat sij niet en soecken beter de prosperiteyt vander stadt Jeroen Puttevils • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 29–53.

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Several issues addressed by this anonymous writer will be dealt with in this chapter. The author of the text attacks the Antwerp city government’s and the governess’s policy of attracting and supporting foreign merchants who in their quest for commercial privileges could threaten to leave the Low Countries’ commercial gateway and endanger both the city’s and the country’s prosperity based on trade. Clearly perceiving the dangers of relying too heavily on foreign traders, which, as we will show, was the city government’s main policy, the writer seeks to compel the magistrates to promote the interests of the native Antwerp merchants who would supposedly ensure the city’s commercial success. Historians of sixteenth-century Antwerp have equally favoured foreign merchants in their work, largely ignoring the growing importance of Antwerp traders – that is, merchants who had settled in Antwerp as migrants and plied their trade out of the city on the Scheldt. The wealth of these locals would result in the embellishment of the city, according to the anonymous author. By referring to flourishing Italian cities such as Florence and Genoa, the author explicitly connects native mercantile wealth with urban ornamentation. Only the term ‘Renaissance’ is lacking here because the author may not have known it when writing down his arguments, but it is clear that it was architectural and artistic splendour, today associated with this term (together with humanism) and addressed in other chapters of this book, which he had in mind. According to the anonymous author, the Antwerp magistrates should pay great heed to repeating the Bruges scenario once more, arguing that if Bruges had pursued a more pro-native traders policy, it might have enticed the foreign traders back to its market instead of seeing them leave permanently for Antwerp. The aims of this chapter are two-fold: to inform the reader about the recent research done on Antwerp’s sixteenth-century trade and to provide a guide to the relevant literature, especially that on the growing importance of native te versekeren oft stabilieren/ maer hebben tot noch toe (so haer eygen woorden ende wercken vutwysen) die selve prosperiteyt gehangen ende geavontureert aern een wijfelycke engelsche natie die haer daegelicx dreyght de negociatie te diverteren/ ende in effect eensdeels gedaen souden hebben/ en hadde thof niet beter toegesien dan sy costen doen/ sy souden ommers behoiren te soecken de traphicque bet[er] te stabilieren als te soecken dat die meest waere in haer borgers handen ende dat die borgers den stercksten hoop waere die daer dander natien tot haer trecken soude ende moeten volgen die welcke haer met dreyghen connen de trafficque te diverteren/ dat ware een rechte versekeringe vande stadt prosperiteyt ende oic des lants/ de borgers rycke (cooplieden synde) verteeren haer gewonnen goet met costelycke timmeragien tot vercieringe der stadt daer den gemeynen borger meester bij leeft alsomen siet in Florensen ende Genua ende andere steden die tselve altyt so gesocht hebben alsomen leeft ende nu noch floreren ende lange gefloreert hebben/ het exempel van Brugge behoirde te moveren hadde daer de trafficque meer in borgers handen geweest (al hadden dan de cooplieden al vertrocken) nade orloge de borgers souden die selve wel wederom gelockt hebben daer ter contrarien sy moesten de natien volghen/ Nadat men bevint daeren waren noit 12 cooplieden in Brugge dier tyt die over de zee hanteerden / Diergelyck dingen vutgesocht ende wel gedisputeert hier om cortheyt achterlatende/ souden behoiren de heeren te moveren daer beter op te letten ende besien wat sy doen/ principalyck so tselve doer yemanden juist in schrifte gestelt Ware ick soude meynen men lichtelyck van vianden vrinden make soude”.

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Antwerp merchants, on the one hand, and demonstrate that Antwerp’s profile differs from those of many other commercial cities, especially in its political economy and the effects that this had on its trade and its merchants on the other hand. As such, this chapter takes up the challenge raised by Peter Burke more than twenty-five years ago to put Antwerp into comparative perspective and ties in with recent approaches to the history of trade which considers commercial institutions as pivotal for the growth of commerce in particular urban centres and relies on inter-city comparisons.2 Sheilagh Ogilvie has demonstrated that institutions such as European merchants’ guilds could exclude large segments of society from long-distance trade. Contrary to the opinions of several neo-institutional economists3 that such guilds – as prime and positive examples of institutions, social capital, and trust – fostered the growth of European trade, Ogilvie argues that merchants’ guilds in fact interfered with the European economy.4 She proves that merchants’ guilds were not efficient economic institutions, as they did not guarantee commercial security, ensure contract enforcement, solve principal-agent problems, correct failures in information or stabilise prices. Merchants’ guilds were limited-access institutions which preserved certain privileges for their members to the detriment of non-members. In close collusion with local and foreign rulers, these guilds obtained privileges and protection for their members. The presence of foreign merchants’ guilds in early sixteenth-century Antwerp may well have worked against native merchants trying to establish themselves on European markets. But there were alternatives developing, the so-called open access or generalised institutions, through the gradual emergence of impersonal markets and impartial states which provided security and contract enforcement to all, regardless of their identities or guild membership. Ogilvie and Oscar Gelderblom have argued that sixteenth-century Antwerp is an example of one of the places where merchants’ guilds went into decline, offering alternative solutions or open access institutions which allowed merchants, regardless of merchant affiliation, to trade in the city’s markets, obviating the need to be part of a merchants’ guild.5

2 Peter Burke, Antwerp: a metropolis in comparative perspective, Ghent, 1993; Oscar Gelderblom & Regina Grafe “The rise, persistence and decline of merchant guilds. Re-thinking the comparative study of commercial institutions in pre-modern Europe”, in Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 40:4, 2010, pp. 477–511; Oscar C. Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce. The Institutional Foundations of International Trade in the Low Countries, 1250–1650, Princeton, 2013; Sheilagh Ogilvie, Institutions and European trade: merchant guilds, 1000–1800, Cambridge, 2011; Bruno Blondé, Oscar gelderblom & Peter Stabel, “Foreign merchant communities in Bruges, Antwerp and Amsterdam”, in Cities and cultural exchange in Europe, 1400–1700, eds Donatella Calabi & Stephen Turk Christensen, Cambridge, 2007, pp. 154–74. 3 Avner Greif, Paul Milgrom & Barry R. Weingast, “Coordination, commitment, and enforcement: the case of the merchant guild”, in Journal of Political Economy, 102/4, 1994, pp. 803–32. 4 Ogilvie, Institutions and European trade. Previously also in: Roberta Dessi & Sheilagh Ogilvie, “Social capital and collusion: the case of merchant guilds”, in Cambridge working papers in economics, Cambridge, 2004; Sheilagh Ogilvie, “The use and abuse of trust: social capital and its deployment by early modern guilds”, in Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 1, 2005, pp. 15–52. 5 Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce.

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2.2. The Ups and Downs of the Antwerp Market The city of Antwerp, on the banks of the river Scheldt, experienced high levels of population and economic development during the sixteenth century, the city’s Golden Age, as economic historians have often termed it. According to Fernand Braudel the activities of the world economy, controlled by Western Europe, were concentrated in one dominant node of the urban network, the pôle urbaine, where the important international trade flows merged and thus allowed for transactions on a large scale.6 Antwerp assumed this function after Bruges and, to a lesser extent, Venice, becoming the most important centre in western European commerce and one of the largest cities north of the Alps. This brief sketch of the ups and downs of the Antwerp market serves to guide the reader through its complex history.7 Antwerp’s initial success and growth in the fifteenth century were closely intertwined with the annual Brabant fairs held in the city and in Bergen-op-Zoom, another Scheldt port. The Antwerp fairs (Whitsun and St Bavo (1 October)) were established in the late 1310s and early 1320s; those of Bergen-op-Zoom were of a later date (1337–1359) and fell on Easter and All Saints.8 The establishment of the fairs was preceded by the granting of privileges by the Duke of Brabant, first to English merchants in 1296, and then to all foreigners in 1315.9 The privileges granted to the English concerned safe conducts, toll exemptions, and the right to 6 Fernand Braudel, Le temps du monde, vol. 3, Civilisation matérielle, économie et capitalisme, 15e–18e siècle, Paris, 1967, pp. 17–24. 7 This brief introduction to Antwerp’s economic history is based on Herman Van der Wee’s classic analysis of the Antwerp market: Herman Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market and the European economy ( fourteenth – sixteenth centuries), The Hague, 1963; and the more recent Jan Materné & Herman Van der Wee, “Antwerp as a world market in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries”, in Antwerp, story of a metropolis, 16th-17th century, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 19–31; Herman Van der Wee, “Trade in the Southern Netherlands, 1493–1587”, in The Low Countries in the early modern world, ed. Herman Van der Wee, Aldershot, 1993, pp. 87–114; Wilfrid Brulez, “De handel”, in Antwerpen in de XVIde eeuw, ed. Walter Couvreur, Antwerp, pp. 109–42; and Michael Limberger, “’No town in the world provides more advantages: economies of agglomeration and the golden age of Antwerp”, in Urban achievement in early modern Europe: Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, eds Patrick O’Brien, Derek Keene & Marjolein ’t Hart, pp. 39–62; see also Clé Lesger, The rise of the Amsterdam market and information exchange: merchants, commercial expansion and change in the spatial economy of the Low Countries, c. 1550–1630, Aldershot, 2006; for Antwerp’s fair twin Bergen-op-Zoom: Cornelis J. F. Slootmans, Paas- en Koudemarkten te Bergen-op-Zoom, 1365–1565, Tilburg 1985; and Yolande E. Kortlever, “The Easter and Cold fairs of Bergen-op-Zoom (14th-16th centuries)”, in Fiere e mercati nella integrazione delle economie Europee, secc. 13–18: atti della “Trentaduesima settimana di studi”, 8–12 maggio 2000, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi, Firenze, 2001, pp. 625–43; Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, 38–47 provides the most up-to-date overview with references to the older literature as well. 8 Jan A. Van Houtte, “Les foires dans la Belgique Ancienne”, in La foire, Receuils de la Société Jean Bodin, Brussels, 1953, p. 189; Slootmans, Paas- en Koudemarkten, I, pp. 6–8; Kortlever, “The Easter and Cold fairs”, pp. 626–27; cited in Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, p. 38. 9 de Smedt, De Engelse natie te Antwerpen, I, pp. 63, 77–78 & 86; Marcel Gotzen, “Het oud-Antwerps burgerlijk procesrecht volgens de costumiere redacties van de 16e–17e eeuw”, in Rechtskundig tijdschrift voor België, 41, 1951, p. 466; Renée Röβner, Hansische Memoria in Flandern: Alltagsleben und Totengedenken der Osterlingen in Brügge und Antwerpen (13. bis 16. Jahrhundert), Frankfurt am Main, p. 50; cited in Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, 38.

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elect their own governor and judges, and to establish a separate jurisdiction over English merchants. John III, Duke of Brabant, actively tried to attract German (Almanie and Teutonie) merchants to his territories, probably at the behest of the politically powerful Brabant cities (Brussels, Leuven, and Antwerp), and on 28 October 1315 granted them extensive privileges, similar to those the English received. The Duke also tried to entice Genoese and Florentine merchants into visiting the fairs of Bergen-op-Zoom and Antwerp through conceding consular jurisdiction. The fairs and the city flowered for a short time, but the city was then captured by the Count of Flanders, who enforced the market primacy of Bruges, much to the detriment of the Antwerp fairs.10 From 1405, the Brabant fairs started to blossom again; during these fairs the produce of the young but dynamic Brabant textile industry was sold, as well as English wools and products from the nearby Rhineland. The fairs became ever more attractive to international merchants – including Englishmen, Germans, and traders from the Mediterranean – and locals alike.11 Merchants in Bruges frequently visited the Brabant fairs.12 Only during the Flemish Revolt in the 1480s against Maximilian of Austria did Antwerp take over from Bruges.13 All foreign merchants were ordered to leave Bruges for Antwerp in 1485 and 1488 and many stayed in Antwerp after the Revolt.14 Bruges’ commercial role was not entirely eliminated: the Spanish wool staple remained in the city and for a while Bruges retained importance as the major financial centre of the Low Countries.15 The 1490–1520 period is characterised by what Herman Van der Wee has described as the “tripod of English textiles, South German metals, and Portuguese spices” which fuelled the growth of the Antwerp market. Initially, transactions took place mostly during the fairs, where it was mainly transit products i.e. merchandise that was not produced in the Netherlands, that changed hands. Thus during its first phase of growth the Antwerp market hosted a fair-based commercial system. 10 Wim Blockmans & Walter Prevenier, The promised lands: the Low Countries under Burgundian rule, 1369–1530, Philadelphia, 1999, pp. 54–6; Slootmans, Paas- en Koudemarkten te Bergen-op-Zoom, 1365–1565, I, pp. 8–10 & 121–23; Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market, II, pp. 20–28 & 37–41; cited in Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, p. 38. 11 Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, pp. 39–40. 12 Jim L. Bolton & Francesco Guidi Bruscoli, “When did Antwerp replace Bruges as the commercial and financial centre of north-western Europe? The evidence of the Borromei ledger for 1438”, in The Economic History Review, 61/2, 2008, pp. 360–79; Gustaaf Asaert, “Gasten uit Brugge: nieuwe gegevens over Bruggelingen op de Antwerpse markt in de vijftiende eeuw”, in Album Carlos Wijffels: aangeboden door zijn wetenschappelijke medewerkers, eds H. Coppejans & G. Hansotte, Brussels, 1987. 13 Jelle Haemers, For the common good: state power and urban revolts in the reign of Mary of Burgundy (1477–1482), Turnhout, 2009; Wim Blockmans, Metropolen aan de Noordzee: de geschiedenis van Nederland, 1100–1560, Amsterdam, 2010, pp. 520–31. 14 Jos Marechal, “Le départ de Bruges des marchands étrangers (XVe et XVIe siècles)”, in Handelingen van het Genootschap voor Geschiedenis: driemaandelijks tijdschrift voor de studie van geschiedenis en oudheden van Vlaanderen, 8, 1951, pp. 26–74; John H. Munro, “Bruges and the Abortive Staple in English Cloth: An Incident in the Shift of Commerce from Bruges to Antwerp in the Late Fifteenth Century”, in Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire, 44/4, 1996, pp. 1150–1. 15 Wilfrid Brulez, “Bruges and Antwerp in the 15th and 16th centuries: an antithesis?”, in Acta historiae Neerlandica, 6, 1973, pp. 1–26; Peter Spufford, “From Antwerp and Amsterdam to London: The Decline of Financial Centres in Europe”, De Economist, 154/2, 2006, pp. 143–75.

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Maximilian of Austria and the city of Antwerp were quick to seize the windfall opportunity; they reaffirmed the existing and by then ancient privileges for foreign merchants and granted the Hanseats, Portuguese, Venetians, Florentines, Genoese and Luccese the same privileges and security guarantees for their goods, persons, and families as they had previously enjoyed in Bruges.16 The Genoese negotiated for new privileges, similar to the ones they enjoyed in Bruges, with Philip the Fair in 1501 and transferred their consulate to Antwerp in 1515, as did the Florentines. The Genoese were granted a consular jurisdiction in 1564. In 1498 the factor of the King of Portugal established himself in Antwerp and in 1511 the entire community of Portuguese merchants obtained a privilege. Aragonese and Catalan traders had a consulate in 1527 and the Luccese received privileges in 1549.17 Scottish traders had a wool staple in Antwerp in 1539–1541, but had no formal organisation before and after this period. The German Hansa moved ploddingly in transferring their Kontor from Bruges to Antwerp. The Antwerp city government granted a house to the Hansa in 1468 and reached an agreement on civil jurisdiction with the Germans in 1546, but it was only in 1533 that the Hansa Kontor was transferred to Antwerp.18 Their Castilian colleagues repeatedly tried to establish a consulate independent of the Bruges Castilians (in 1560 and 1589), but their efforts did not succeed.19 Merchants from Venice, Milan, South Germany, Scandinavia and France did not receive any specific privileges in the sixteenth century.20 The Venetians, the Milanese and the South Germans (Nuremberg traders), however, enjoyed privileges and the rights to organise a nation in Bruges from the fourteenth century onwards (the Milanese in the fifteenth century).21 Venetians were hardly present in sixteenth-century Antwerp; they had withdrawn from the Low Countries and relied on native Antwerp agents.22 The example of the South Germans shows that a formal merchants’ guild was not necessary for commercial

16 CAA, Privilegiekamer, Raeckt den Handel, Pk # 1012, 30 June 1488, Copie vuyten previlegie boeck der stadt van Antwerpen. 17 On the Lucchese in Antwerp see Renzo Sabbatini, Cercar esca: mercanti lucchesi ad Anversa nel Cinquecento, Firenze, 1985. 18 Gelderblom, “The decline of fairs and merchant guilds”, p. 213. 19 Jan-Albert Goris, Étude sur les colonies marchandes méridionales (Portugais, Espagnols, Italiens) à Anvers de 1488 à 1587, Leuven, 1925, pp. 55–70. 20 Donald J. Harreld, High Germans in the Low Countries: German merchants and commerce in golden age Antwerp, Leiden, 2004, pp. 58–9 & 69; Emile Coornaert, Les Français et le commerce international à Anvers, fin du 15e–16e siècle, Paris, 1961, II, pp. 23–8; Gayle K. Brunelle, “Migration and religious identity: the Portuguese of seventeenth-century Rouen”, in Journal of Early Modern History, 7/3, 2003, p. 290; Blondé, Gelderblom & Stabel, “Foreign merchant communities”, pp. 166–7. 21 Peter Stabel, “De gewenste vreemdeling: Italiaanse kooplieden en stedelijke maatschappij in het laatmiddeleeuwse Brugge”, in Jaarboek voor middeleeuwse geschiedenis, 4, 2001, pp. 189–221. 22 Jeroen Puttevils, “Klein gewin brengt rijkdom in: de Zuid-Nederlandse handelaars in de export naar Italië in de jaren 1540”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale en economische geschiedenis, 6/1, 2009, pp. 26–52; Peter Stabel, “Venice and the Low Countries: commercial contacts and intellectual inspirations”, in Renaissance Venice and the North. Crosscurrents in the time of Bellini, Dürer and Titian, eds Bernard Aikema & Beverly Louise Brown, Milan, 1999, pp. 30–42.

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success.23 These groups of merchants must have felt comfortable relying on Antwerp’s open access institutions without creating nation-like structures. Yet, the bestowing of privileges on particular groups of traders remains significant. Were the property rights’ guarantees and contract enforcement offered by the fairs, which enforced everyone’s rights regardless of merchants’ guild affiliation, not sufficient? Clearly for some groups additional guarantees in the form of privileges were required for them to feel secure. Moreover, others such as the English could rely on previously granted, and by the end of the fifteenth century already ancient, privileges, on the power of their numbers and on the capacity of their main line of products to bargain for additional privileges, tax exemptions for example. Antwerp’s commercial successor, Amsterdam, took a very different course during its development period at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries: it refused all requests for privileges by the Merchant Adventurers and the Hansa. Amsterdam from the start treated all players as equals, a policy which it may have learned from the mistakes of its predecessor.24 Political conflicts, such as the wars between the Habsburg emperor Charles V and the French king Francis I and between the Holy Roman Empire and Denmark, paralysed international trade during the 1530s. The Central European economy was seriously weakened by the Deutscher Bauernkrieg which swept through the Holy Roman Empire. These political conflicts triggered a financial and monetary crisis and a price rise in foodstuffs. Moreover, the Portuguese spice monopoly, one of the three major foundations of Antwerp’s trade ‘tripod’, was enfeebled by Venice’s and Marseille’s (re-)entrances into the spice trade.25 The second growth phase, roughly from 1530 until 1566, was marked by the increasing importance of exports of Netherlandish products, the transit market being impaired by the crisis. Trade with Southern Europe, the Iberian colonies, and the Levant in particular grew in importance. Italy exported silk and bought English textiles and products from the Low Countries. Spain supplied agricultural products and bought various commodities for its colonies; the deficit was paid in American silver. This fertile international trade created opportunities for the sale of products from the Low Countries: tapestries, expensive cloth, jewelry, paintings, and also textile manufactures from rural industries such as the famous Hondschote says. Antwerp became the top port for its strongly industrialised and urbanised hinterland, the Netherlands. By the middle of the sixteenth century Antwerp controlled more than 75% of the international trade that flowed through the Low Countries (by sea and by land) (see map 2.1).26 The economy of the Low Countries was highly dependent on international trade: one historian has estimated the total imports of the Netherlands at

23 Harreld, High Germans in the Low Countries. 24 Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, p. 70. 25 Florence Edler, “The Market for Spices in Antwerp, 1538–1544”, Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire, 17, 1938, pp. 212–21. 26 Goris, Étude sur les colonies marchandes méridionales, pp. 317–37.

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Map 2.1. Total export values of Low Countries cities in 1543–1545. © Author Source: ARB, Rekenkamer, Hundredth Penny export tax, 1543–1545, 23357–23364.

7 guilders per capita in the middle of the sixteenth century. When compared to France and England (1.5 guilders per capita), the importance of these imports quickly becomes clear.27 Moreover, a quarter of the industrial production of the Netherlands was destined for export. During this second growth phase, the Antwerp market achieved a permanent character and international trade in the city was conducted year-round (although with seasonal ups and downs depending on the weather, which affected both maritime and terrestrial traffic), to the detriment of its sister-fairs, those of Bergen-op-Zoom, which quickly faded in importance.28 Besides its commercial and industrial primacy, Antwerp was also an important financial centre. Charles V and his bankers, amongst them the Fugger, used the Antwerp capital market to borrow large amounts of capital, thereby integrating Antwerp into the Habsburg financial system and becoming connected with the financial markets of Lyon, the Castile fairs, and Genoa. Given its connections with government finance, the Antwerp financial market suffered during the series of Spanish state bankruptcies. Merchants and trade were aided by the city government’s provision of market infrastructure, such as the construction of the New Exchange, the first specialised Bourse building in the world, in 1531 and the Hessenhuis, a hub for carters from Hessen in central Germany who were active in continental transport, in 1564.29 The city government also made clear which contracts could be registered by the town clerks and by notaries, rendering

27 Wilfrid Brulez, “The balance of trade of the Netherlands in the middle of the 16th century”, in Acta historiae Neerlandica, 4, 1970, pp. 20–48. 28 Slootmans, Paas- en Koudemarkten, pp. 1556–70; Kortlever, “The Easter and Cold fairs”; Van Houtte, “Les foires dans la Belgique Ancienne”, pp. 194–6. 29 Jan Materné, “Schoon ende bequaem tot versamelinghe der cooplieden. Antwerpens beurswereld tijdens de gouden zestiende eeuw”, in Ter Beurze. Geschiedenis van de aandelenhandel in België, 1300–1990, eds Geert De Clercq et al., Bruges – Antwerp, 1992, pp. 50–85; Albert Haeck, De kerbinders van het Hessenhuis en de Hessennatie: bijdrage tot de geschiedenis van een Antwerpse natie, Antwerpen, 1960.

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contract registration services more transparent for the mercantile community.30 By handling mercantile cases swiftly and by allowing account books and other written proof of transactions to be used in the court of aldermen, contract enforcement was also supplied in an efficient way by the aldermen.31 The Iconoclasm of 1566 and the subsequent Dutch Revolt caused rising taxation, military destruction, blockades, etc.; and gradually ended the Scheldt town’s commercial hegemony. The Antwerp government desperately sought to counter the loss of several merchant groups during the political and religious disturbances in the 1570s and 1580s: the city reconfirmed the privileges of the Portuguese and granted rights to a new group of merchants from Armenia and Greece in 1582.32 The population more than halved in a few decades; in 1585, when the city was reconquered by Alessandro Farnese, Duke of Parma, and the Spanish governor of the Netherlands, after a fourteen-month siege, the population had dropped to a mere 42,000 inhabitants. Antwerp became isolated, not due to the alleged full closure of the Scheldt, but through the erection of fiscal barriers to the river’s trade.33 A trade diaspora of Antwerp merchants was the result. The merchants initially spread all over Europe but gradually coalesced in Amsterdam.34 2.3. The Ascent of Antwerp’s Merchants With the growth of the permanent Antwerp market, the community of merchants grew. The inflow of new merchants into Antwerp is hard to quantify, as is the total number of merchants operating from Antwerp, and especially the number of native Low Countries merchants. Ludovico Guicciardini in his Description of the Low Countries fawned over the wealth and the social and linguistic skills of Antwerp’s native merchants but did not estimate their number.35 Unfortunately, no source is known which allows for the careful and direct reconstruction of this number and its growth throughout the sixteenth century. Hence, historians must rely on indirect sources and rough estimates. The Antwerp magistracy produced certificates, written declarations on behalf of private persons, often local and 30 Michel Oosterbosch, “‘Van groote abuysen ende ongeregeltheden’ Overheidsbemoeiingen met het Antwerpse notariaat tijdens de XVIde eeuw”, in The Legal History Review 63, 1995, pp. 83–101. 31 Puttevils, Merchants and trading. 32 Jan-Albert Goris, “Turksche kooplieden te Antwerpen in de XVIe eeuw”, in Bijdragen tot de geschiedenis, 14/1, 1922, pp. 30–8. 33 Victor Enthoven, “The closure of the Scheldt: closure, what closure? Trade and shipping in the Scheldt estuary, 1559–1609”, in North sea ports and harbours: adaptations to change: second North Sea History Conference, Esbjerg, eds Paul Holm & John Edwards, Esbjerg, 1992, pp. 11–37; and the special issue of Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 4, 2010: “Stad en stroom: Antwerpse identiteit(en) en vijf eeuwen discours rond de sluiting van de Schelde”. 34 Wilfrid Brulez, “De diaspora der Antwerpse kooplui op het einde van de 16e eeuw”, in Bijdragen tot de geschiedenis, 15, 1960, pp. 279–306; Oscar Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden en de opkomst van de Amsterdamse stapelmarkt (1578–1630), Hilversum, 2000. 35 Ludovico Guicciardini, Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi, altrimenti detti Germania inferiore, Antwerp, 1567, pp. 155–6; Ludovico Guicciardini, Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi: edizione critica, ed. Bernardina Aristodemo, Amsterdam, 1994, pp. 277–8.

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Place of origin Italy Portugal France Spain Germany Hanseatic Germany (including Cologne) South-Germany England Total foreign merchants Low Countries merchants

1492 13 3 2 18 26 22 4 7 69 55

1512 17 0 12 4 37 22 11 7 77 88

Source: Doehaerd, Études anversoises.

foreign merchants, concerning various commercial and/or juridical issues. These certificates consist of a declaration made under oath, sometimes in the presence of a witness, and provide the identity of the applicant. To establish the presence of foreign and native merchants in the early trade of Antwerp, I have analysed the Antwerp certificates for two entire years: 1492 and 1512–1513 (see table 2.1).36 Although these certificates are unlikely to include all the merchants in Antwerp at the time, they nonetheless provide an idea about the relative proportions of the groups of foreign and native merchants. These groups were about the same size in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Historians have used the export taxes of the 1540s and the import and export taxes of the 1550s and other bits and pieces of information to estimate the numbers of foreign and native merchants in Antwerp around the 1560s (table 2.2). While the total number of foreign merchants was much larger than that of the Low Countries’ merchants, by the 1560s native traders formed a sizeable community. In 1584 and 1585 the beleaguered city of Antwerp organised a monthly tax on 4,687 heads of household with means (23.8% of the total number of heads of households).37 Roughly 1,400 native merchants (not all of whom were assessed for the tax) can be counted in the tax registers, along with a meagre

36 Renée Doehaerd, Études anversoises: documents sur le commerce international à Anvers, 1488–1514, Paris, 1962–1963. 37 Jan Van Roey, De sociale structuur en de godsdienstige gezindheid van de Antwerpse bevolking op de vooravond van de Reconciliatie met Farnèse (17 augustus 1585), unpublished doctoral dissertation, 1963, pp. 83–120; Jan Van Roey, “De correlatie tussen het sociale-beroepsmilieu en de godsdienstkeuze op het einde der XVIe eeuw”, in Bronnen voor de religieuze geschiedenis van België: middeleeuwen en moderne tijden, Bibliothèque de la Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, Leuven, 1968, pp. 239–58; Marnef, Antwerp in the age of Reformation: underground Protestantism in a commercial metropolis, 1550–1577, Baltimore, pp. 1–34; Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden, pp. 45–6.

six teen th-cen tury an t werp, a hyper- ma rket for a ll? Table 2.2. Estimations of merchant group size in the middle of the sixteenth century.

Place of origin Italy Portugal France Spain Germany Hanseatic Germany South-Germany England Total foreign merchants Low Countries

Number (Brulez) 200 150 100 300 300 150 150 300–600 (during fairs) 1350–1650 400–500

Number (Gelderblom) 100 100 150 150 300 300 1100 400

Source: Brulez, “De handel”, 128–31; Gelderblom, Cities of commerce, 33.

130 foreign merchants.38 The Dutch Revolt definitely distorts these numbers: merchants from all over the Low Countries fled from the advancing Spanish armies to Antwerp (thereby inflating their number), while foreign merchants unsure about the political and commercial future of the region left the city.39 A more dynamic picture comes from the Poortersboeken or new citizens registers (Fig. 2.1.).40 The source has many flaws, however: it registers only citizens who purchased citizenship rights and it excludes all persons who were poorter by birth or who had been granted such rights by the city government.41 Citizenship was not obligatory for merchants and many preferred to maintain the status of inhabitant, or ingezetene (obtained automatically after having lived for one year and a day in the city).42 Sixteenth-century Antwerp attracted most of its immigrants (as measured in the Poortersboeken) from the duchy of Brabant

38 Included are: merchants without specification, textile merchants, grain merchants, wine merchants, traders in Spanish wares, dyestuff traders, metal merchants, jewellers, leather traders and merchants of various sorts of goods. (Gelderblom for his estimation probably excluded grain, wine and Spanish wares merchants Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden, pp. 45–6.) Excluded are dairy merchants, fruit sellers, fish merchants, livestock sellers and salt traders since it is likely that they were retail merchants, not internationally active traders. The number of native merchants increases to 1500 native merchants if one includes the grocers and chemists who often traded on a wholesale level besides their retail activities. 39 Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden, pp. 45–6; Van Roey, De sociale structuur, pp. 115–8. 40 Jan Van Roey, Antwerpse poortersboeken, Antwerp, 1978; database Dr Jan De Meester; Jan De Meester, Gastvrij Antwerpen? Arbeidsmigratie naar het zestiende-eeuwse Antwerpen: proefschrift, unpublished doctoral dissertation University of Antwerp, 2011. 41 For an extensive overview of the usefulness of poortersboeken see Jan De Meester, “De gebruiks- en meerwaarde van poortersboeken voor historici: Antwerpen in de zestiende eeuw”, in Vlaamse stam: tijdschrift voor familiegeschiedenis, 43/3 & 4, 2007, pp. 276–88 & 317–31. 42 Alfons K. L. Thijs, “Minderheden te Antwerpen (16de / 20ste eeuw)”, in Minderheden in Westeuropese steden (16de-20ste eeuw). Minorities in Western European Cities (sixteenth-twentieth century), eds Hugo Soly & Alfons K. L. Thijs, Rome, 1995, pp. 19–20.

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Number of new merchants

40 35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0 1533 1536 1539 1542 1545 1548 1551 1554 1557 1560 1563 1566 1569 1572 1575 1578 1581 1584 1587 1590 1593 1596 1599 1602 1605 1608

40

Foreign

Low Countries

Figure 2.1. Number of merchants registering as new Antwerp citizens, by origin. Source: calculations based on Poortersboeken database Jan De Meester.

(41.7%), the county of Flanders (13.6%) and the prince bishopric of Liège (7.4%). 13.6% of all new citizens came from outside the Low Countries.43 After 1585, the city’s migration recruitment area was drastically reduced. Some foreign merchants, such as the English Merchant Adventurers, would not even have considered becoming citizens since Antwerp citizenship could not be combined with their foreign merchants’ guild membership.44 Registering as an Antwerp citizen would thereby result in loss of fiscal, financial, and legal privileges. This makes it risky to use the Poortersboeken to assess the size of Antwerp’s foreign merchant population. Merchants from the Low Countries and those lacking privileges in Antwerp had more incentives to buy citizenship rights.45 Antwerp citizenship brought both advantages and obligations: Antwerp citizens could only be arrested with the approval of the Antwerp authorities and could only be tried by Antwerp courts of law. Antwerp citizens were exempt from the weigh dues, all tolls, and certain local Brabant taxes; their exemption from the Honte toll is particularly significant since the Honte gave Antwerp access to the North Sea.46 This might have given locals a small advantage over merchants who did not have fiscal and legal privileges through their respective merchants’ guild. 43 Clé Lesger, “Migrantenstromen en economische ontwikkeling in vroegmoderne steden: nieuwe burgers in Antwerpen en Amsterdam, 1541–1655”, in Stadsgeschiedenis, 2, pp. 97–121; De Meester, Gastvrij Antwerpen?, pp. 17–122. 44 De Meester, Gastvrij Antwerpen?, pp. 124–5. 45 Included are those persons who were registered as exercising the following occupations: merchants, buyers of certain products and jewellers. Grocers and chemists are also selected because they often were active in wholesale international operations as well. Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden, p. 40, note 15. 46 Francine de Nave, “De oudste Antwerpse lijsten van nieuwe poorters (28 januari – 28 december 1414)”, in Handelingen van de Koninklijke Commissie voor Geschiedenis 139, 1973, pp. 67–309.

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None of these sources, because of their respective biases, informs us about the actual number of Low Countries merchants operating in sixteenth-century Antwerp, the evolution of that number or its relative magnitude as compared with that of the foreign merchant population. However, in putting these various numbers together, a picture emerges of the growth of the group of native merchants. By the end of Antwerp’s Golden Age, when it again became subject to the Spanish crown, the indigenous merchants had become a sizeable group and outnumbered their foreign colleagues. This ascent of the Low Countries merchants operating out of Antwerp was not visible just on the markets of the Scheldt town. Groups of Low Countries expatriates with strong ties with Antwerp pop up from the late fifteenth century onwards in Lisbon, Madeira, Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Seville, Cádiz, Puerto de Santa Maria, Gibraltar, Valencia, Alicante, the Canary and Azores islands, Venice, Livorno, Rome, Ancona, Genoa, La Rochelle, Bordeaux, Rouen, Paris, Frankfurt, Nuremberg, Danzig, Hamburg, Stockholm, Narva, and London.47 This process had already started in late-fifteenth-century Bruges from where Flemish traders captured a market share on the Iberian Peninsula.48 2.4. Explaining the Ascent of the Low Countries Merchants While it might be somewhat incautious to speak about a renaissance of active Low Countries trade – since this assertion is based on the unproven idea that after the active trade of Low Countries (mainly Flemish) merchants in the thirteenth century, the Flemish merchant fell asleep in a Bruges broker’s office – to quote Brulez’s characterisation of Bruges entrepreneurs as passive intermediaries working for a foreign merchant clientele – the scope and scale of Low Countries merchants’ operations on pivotal European markets during the sixteenth century was significant and calls for an explanation.49 Since historiographical interest in this group of traders began to increase from the fifties and sixties of the twentieth century, a number of causal factors have been put forward: the adoption of commercial and bookkeeping techniques, specialisation in the marketing of home-grown products which were in demand throughout Europe, the carving out of commercial niches, the opening of new markets and the relative ease of collecting working capital. The historian Wilfrid Brulez attributed the emancipation of Low Countries traders to their adoption of advanced Mediterranean (mainly Italian) commercial techniques. Marine insurance, commission trade, bills of exchange, and doubleentry bookkeeping which the Low Countries traders are believed to have picked up quickly from their foreign colleagues in sixteenth-century Antwerp, facilitated

47 Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, pp. 40–6. 48 Octaaf Mus, “De Brugse compagnie Despars op het einde van de 15de eeuw”, in Handelingen van het Genootschap voor Geschiedenis: driemaandelijks tijdschrift voor de studie van geschiedenis en oudheden van Vlaanderen 101:1, 1964, pp. 5–118. 49 Wilfrid Brulez, De firma Della Faille en de internationale handel van Vlaamse firma’s in de 16de eeuw, Brussel, Paleis der Academiën, 1959.

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their participation in European commerce.50 Herman Van der Wee turns Brulez’s argument on this knowledge transfer on its head: if the adoption of Mediterranean commercial techniques and the subsequent increase of Low Countries merchants’ commercial enterprise relied on the presence of Mediterranean merchants, why did the ascent of native traders not occur in fifteenth-century Bruges, which also hosted a sizeable community of Italian traders?51 Low Countries traders may have had access to commercial knowledge and techniques through other channels. With the advent of the printing press, previously privately circulated manuals could reach a much larger audience in printed form. In particular from the seventeenth century onwards a profusion of such merchants’ handbooks provided aspiring and experienced merchants with information on market conditions.52 From the sixteenth century onwards, Ars Mercatoria literature was printed on a large scale; such works included specialised merchants’ manuals for correspondence, commercial law, and bookkeeping, dictionaries for various languages and tables for converting coins, currencies, measures, and weights (Fig. 2.2).53 Antwerp, a growing commercial city, quickly became one of the most important printing centres in Europe; the large-scale printing industry in sixteenth-century Antwerp profoundly transformed the city’s economy and history.54 The formidable size of Antwerp’s printing industry facilitated the spread of a wide range of printed merchants’ manuals which both apprentices and established merchants could use to acquire information and skills. The repertory by Hoock and Jeannin allows for the reconstruction of Antwerp’s production of printed merchants’ manuals.55 Publishing Ars Mercatoria literature was not big business for Antwerp’s printers: the mere 103 Ars Mercatoria works printed between 1490 and 1599 amounted to less than 1% of the total Antwerp printing output (incunabula, post-incunabula, and printed books).56 Most books printed in Antwerp were religious works, 50 Brulez, “De handel”, p. 131. 51 Van der Wee, The Growth of the Antwerp market, II, p. 191, n. 270. 52 Donald J. Harreld, “An education in commerce: transmitting business information in early modern Europe”, in Information flows: new approaches in the historical study of business information, eds Leos Müller & Jari Ojala, Helsinki, 2007, pp. 64–5 and 70. 53 Francesca Trivellato, The familiarity of strangers: the Sephardic diaspora, Livorno, and cross-cultural trade in the early modern period, New Haven, 2009, pp. 185–6; Markus A. Denzel, Jean Claude Hocquet & Harald Witthöft (eds), Kaufmannsbücher und Handelspraktiken vom Spätmittelalter bis zum 20. beginnenden Jahrhundert = Merchant’s books and mercantile pratiche from the lade middle ages to the beginning of the 20th century, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte Beihefte, Stuttgart, 2002. 54 Werner Waterschoot, “Antwerp: books, publishing and cultural production before 1585”, in Urban achievement in early modern Europe: Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, eds Patrick O’Brien, Derek Keene & Marjolein ’t Hart, Cambridge, 2001, pp. 233–48; Leon Voet, The golden compasses: a history and evaluation of the printing and publishing activities of the Officina Plantiniana at Antwerp, Amsterdam, 1969; Leon Voet, “De typografische bedrijvigheid te Antwerpen in de 16e eeuw”, in Antwerpen in de XVIde eeuw, ed. Walter Couvreur, Antwerp, 1975, pp. 233–55. 55 Jochen Hoock & Pierre Jeannin (eds), Ars mercatoria: Handbücher und Traktate für den Gebrauch des Kaufmanns, 1470–1820: eine analytische Bibliographie = Ars Mercatoria: manuels et traités à l’usage des marchands, 1470–1820, 3 vols, Paderborn, 1991. 56 Incunabula (up to 1500): 1 ars mercatoria print (out of 479 in Antwerp); post-incunabula (1501–1540): 15 ars mercatoria prints (out of 3058 books printed in Antwerp); 1541–1599: 88 ars mercatoria prints (out of 11,925). Incunabula Short Title Catalogue ISTC (http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/

six teen th-cen tury an t werp, a hyper- ma rket for a ll? 25

20

15

10

5

0

Correspondence models

Commercial arithmetic

Coins & currencies

Bookkeeping

Measures and weights

Interest rates tables

Land roads & sea routes

Insurance

Exchange

Maritime laws

Figure 2.2. Subjects of Antwerp Ars Mercatoria editions (1490–1600). Source: based on Hoock & Jeannin (eds), Ars mercatoria.

literature, scholarly works, and cheap printed works, such as pamphlets and news sheets.57 The most frequently printed type of Ars Mercatoria literature is the correspondence models (32 manuals, amounting to 30.77% of all Antwerp Ars Mercatoria prints). Manuals on commercial arithmetic took second place (27 manuals, or 25.96%). More than 60 general arithmetic books were printed in the Netherlands during the sixteenth century, most of them in Antwerp.58 In 1510, the Antwerp printer Willem Vorsterman published the anonymous manual Die maniere om te leeren cyfferen ende rekenen (printed two years earlier in Brussels, in French). Commercial arithmetic and bookkeeping were often presented together both in schools and in the manuals; first maths, then bookkeeping.59 After Luca Pacioli’s Summa de arithmetica, geometria, proportioni et proportionalità, which offered the first discussion of double-entry bookkeeping in print, was printed in Venice in 1494, few manuals on bookkeeping were printed.60 Antwerp had to wait until 1543 for Jan Ympyn Christoffelsz’s Nieuwe instructie ende bewijs der looffelijcker consten des rekenboecks ende rekeninghe te houdene nae die Italiaensche

istc/index.html) Andrew Pettegree & Malcolm Walsby, Netherlandish books: books published in the Low Countries and Dutch books printed abroad before 1601, Leiden, 2011, pp. xi–xiii; Voet, “De typografische bedrijvigheid”, pp. 235–36. 57 Pettegree & Walsby, Netherlandish books, p. xvii. 58 Margaret Spufford, “Literacy, trade and religion in the commercial centres of Europe”, in A miracle mirrored: the Dutch Republic in European perspective, eds Karel Davids & Jan Lucassen, Cambridge, 1995, p. 255. 59 Henry L. V. De Groote, “De zestiende-eeuwse Nederlandse drukken”, in De Gulden Passer, 49, pp. 7–9. 60 Pierre Jeannin, “Les manuels de comptabilité”, in Marchands d’Europe: pratiques et savoirs à l’époque moderne, eds Pierre Jeannin, Jacques Bottin & Marie-Louise Pelus-Kaplan, Paris, p. 343.

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maniere, based on a translation from Pacioli.61 It is assumed that Ympyn had learned double-entry bookkeeping during a stay in Italy. Ympyn describes the Venetian mode of double-entry bookkeeping: a journal with daily recordings of transactions and a main ledger systemising information from the journal into different accounts with a debit and credit side. He documents the use of a profit-and-loss account and a balance sheet to check the correctness of the main ledger. Furthermore, he advises the use of daybooks, inventory books, household accounts, etc. The timing of the first printed bookkeeping manuals (in the 1540s and 1550s) precludes any direct causation between the rise of the Low Countries merchants and double-entry bookkeeping appropriated through printed manuals; Low Countries merchants such as Van der Molen and Della Faille were already using the double-entry bookkeeping system prior to this period.62 Members of both families learnt the method during a stay in Italy. Moreover, bookkeeping could be learned through other channels such as an apprenticeship, from other than Italian traders and within the Low Countries: the young Coppin declared in a 1505 Antwerp certificate that he had learned to write and keep accounts from Daniel de Benevivere, an Aragonese merchant in Bruges, and that he had greatly profited from his sojourn with Benevivere.63 This goes to show that access to the necessary techniques and knowledge may have helped the ascent of Low Countries traders but was in itself not sufficient to support it. A second possible explanation for the ascent of Low Countries traders is the correlation between the success of Low Countries industrial products on European markets and the growing importance of Low Countries traders.64 Tying these two phenomena together does pose a Gordian knot of a problem: were the native merchants responsible for the expansion of industry through export or was it the other way round? The second hypothesis is more likely to be true: the restructuring of Low Countries’ industry had taken place in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when it was mainly foreign merchants who were exporting industrial products, which were collected in the gateway city of Bruges.65 Only

61 On Ympyn see Raymond De Roover, Jan Ympyn: essai historique et technique sur le premier traité flamand de comptabilité (1543), Antwerp, 1928; Raymond De Roover, “Ympyn, Jan”, in Nationaal Biografisch Woordenboek, 1, Brussels, 1964, pp. 974–78; Raymond De Roover, “Een en ander over Jan Ympyn Christoffels”, in Tijdscrift voor geschiedenis, 52, 1937, pp. 163–79. 62 Brulez, De firma Della Faille; Florence Edler, “The Van Der Molen, Commission Merchants of Antwerp: Trade with Italy, 1538–44”, in Medieval and Historiographical Essays in Honour of James Westfall Thompson, eds James Lea Cate & Eugene N. Anderson, Chicago, 1938, pp. 78–145. 63 Pierre Jeannin, “Distinction des compétences et niveaux de qualification: les savoirs négociants dans l’Europe moderne”, in Cultures et formations négociantes dans l’Europe moderne, eds Franco Angiolini & Daniel Roche, Paris p. 389; cites Doehaerd, Études anversoises, nr. 3437. 64 Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market, II, 191–2 & 317–32; Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden, 46–7; for a short overview of the Low Countries export industry see: Van der Wee, “Trade in the Southern Netherlands”. 65 For the fourteenth century see James M. Murray, Bruges: cradle of capitalism, Cambridge, 2006; for the fifteenth century: Peter Stabel, “Entre commerce international et entrepreneurs locaux: le monde financier de Wouter Ameide (Bruges, fin 15e-début 16e siècle)”, in Finances privées et finances publiques, ed. Marc Boone, Leuven, 1995, pp. 75–99; Peter Stabel, “Marketing cloth in the Low Countries: foreign merchants, local businessmen and urban entrepreneurs: markets, transport

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at the end of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth century do we see Low Countries’ merchants actively trading on foreign markets and pursuing commercial activities beyond transferring their products to the main commercial gateway in the Netherlands. Industry provided the initial impetus for native merchants. After that, the expansion of industry and the size of the native merchant community moved in tandem: growing industry provided more work, both for merchants transferring goods to the commercial gateway and for merchants – both local and foreign – exporting the goods abroad. The Hundredth Penny tax (or 1% tax) on exports out of the Low Countries (1543–1545) allows for a breakdown of the exports to several European regions at the level of individual merchants and their respective exports, and sheds light on the issue of Low Countries’ merchants’ specialisation in home-grown products.66 Detailed analysis of the exports by different merchant groups (grouped by “nationality”) revealed that Low Countries’ merchants did not differ significantly from other merchant groups such as Iberian and French traders in their preference for Low Countries products such as Low Countries cloth, tapestries and says. Although Low Countries merchants had information advantages which their foreign colleagues did not enjoy (language, contacts and profound product knowledge), this comparative advantage did not translate into a pronounced specialisation in Low Countries products. The Low Countries were also very active in the trade in transit goods such as Portuguese pepper, sugar and English cloth at Antwerp: their firm position in the export of English kerseys, which were in high demand in Italy and the Levant, can be explained by the Merchants Adventurers’ relative reluctance prior to the 1550s to actively explore European markets; for them, Antwerp offered enough sales opportunities. In this line of trade Low Countries traders operating out of Antwerp had to compete with Italians and they do seem to have captured an important share of that market. This refutes the historiographical assertion that it was mainly Low Countries products which pushed Low Countries traders onto European markets; Low Countries merchants were as active as their foreign counterparts in other types of goods. As such, this is clear evidence of the open and inclusive nature of the Antwerp market. A third causal factor is the commercial-strategic choices made by other European groups of traders which opened windows of opportunities for Low

and transaction costs (14th-16th century)”, in International trade in the Low Countries (14th-16th centuries): merchants, organisation, infrastructure: proceedings of the international conference GhentAntwerp, 12th-13th January 1997, eds Bruno Blondé, Anke Greve & Peter Stabel, Leuven, 2000, pp. 15–36; Peter Stabel, “Guilds in late medieval Flanders: myths and realities of guild life in an export-oriented environment”, in Journal of Medieval History, 30/2, 2004, pp. 187–212; Peter Stabel, “Public or private, collective or individual? The spaces of late medieval trade in the Low Countries”, in Il mercante patrizio: palazzi e botteghe nell’Europa del Rinascimento, eds Donatella Calabi & Silvia Beltramo, Milan, 2008, pp. 37–54. 66 For a more thorough and critical analysis see Jeroen Puttevils, “‘Eating the bread out of their mouth’: Antwerp’s export trade and generalized institutions, 1544–5”, in The Economic History Review, 68/4, 2015, pp. 1339–64.

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Countries merchants. The withdrawal of Venetian merchants from Low Countries markets allowed traders from that region to become active carriers in the trade between the Doge city and their homeland.67 Because of the aforementioned Merchant Adventurers’ policy not to carry their products further than Antwerp, Antwerp traders could re-export these products to other European trade centres. The group also accessed new markets. As early as at the end of the fifteenth century Low Countries merchants were heavily involved in the commercial sugar exploitation of Madeira and the Canary and Azores islands.68 They penetrated the Baltic, relying on Dutch shipping and competing with the Hanseatic League, and Russia from the 1560s.69 To finance their commercial enterprise the Low Countries could rely on a gamut of short- and long-term financial instruments available on the Antwerp market: bills of exchange, obligations, annuities, partnerships, and deposits. Van der Wee has argued that a reduction in the interest rates may have caused a psychological effect on entrepreneurs to buy more on credit.70 Detailed ­statistical time series on private interest rates may be lacking, but the fact that the Merchant Adventurers in 1565 reported to the English Privy Council that “the inhabitants [of Antwerp]… have crept into suche credytt and growen to so greate wealthe that allmoost they rule all trades traffiques m[er]chandize monneys and mynth” indicates that they had little difficulty raising capital.71 Sixteenth-century Antwerp may not have induced the creation of new financial instruments, yet the concentration of trade and finance in one place enabled access to the existing apparatus of financial instruments, often imported from Mediterranean Europe,

67 Jeroen Puttevils, “Klein gewin brengt rijkdom in: de Zuid-Nederlandse handelaars in de export naar Italië in de jaren 1540”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale en economische geschiedenis 6/1, 2009, pp. 26–52. 68 John Everaert, “Vlaamse suikerbaronnen op Madeira (omstreeks 1480–1620)”, in Vlaanderen en Portugal: op de golfslag van twee culturen, eds John Everaert & Eddy Stols, Antwerpen, 1991, pp. 99–117; Fernand Donnet, “Les Anversois aux Canaries, un voyage mouvementé au XVIe siècle”, in Bulletin de la Société de Géographie d’Anvers 18–19, 1895–1896, pp. 276–311, 202–365; Fernand Donnet, “Les origines d’une entreprise commerciale anversoise aux Canaries au XVIe siècle”, in Bulletin de la Société de Géographie d’Anvers, 1919, pp. 103–10; Kevin Coornaert, “De Vlaamse natie op de Canarische eilanden in de 16de eeuw”, Master dissertation University of Ghent, 2000; Eddy Stols & Werner Thomas, “Flanders and the Canary Islands in the first widening of the world 1450–1550”, in Lumen canariense: el Cristo de La Laguna y su tiempo, eds Francisco José Galante Gómez, Eddy Stols, Werner Thomas & Hans Nieuwdorp, San Cristóbal de La Laguna: Excmo. Ayuntamiento de San Cristóbal de La Laguna, 2003, pp. 27–50; André L. F. Claeys, Vlamingen op de Azoren sinds de 15de eeuw, Brugge: Claeys, 2011. 69 Eric H. Wijnroks, Handel tussen Rusland en de Nederlanden, 1560–1640: een netwerkanalyse van de Antwerpse en Amsterdamse kooplieden, handelend op Rusland, Hilversum: Verloren, 2003; Jan Denucé, De Hanze en de Antwerpsche handelscompagnieën op de Oostzeelanden, Antwerpen: De Sikkel, 1938. 70 Herman Van der Wee, “Das Phänomen des Wachstums und der Stagnation im Lichte der Antwerpener und südniederlandischen Wirtschaft des 16. Jahrhunderts”, in Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 54, no. 2, 1967, pp. 203–49. On average, commercial deposits from fair to fair between 1561 and 1584 obtained a 7% annual interest rate: Van der Wee, The Growth of the Antwerp Market, I, p. 528. 71 The Merchant Adventurers to the Privy Council. National Archives of the UK, State Papers Foreign, SP 70/81, fol. 62, Nov. 28 1565.

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which resulted in their growing use and an increase in the available capital.72 Moreover, from Antwerp these techniques spread to the rest of Western Europe, from the 1580s embodied in the diaspora of Antwerp traders.73 Creative financial dynamism was not limited to the introduction of new financial instruments; existing, even ancient, instruments were adapted to the new needs of the traders’ community.74 The IOU or obligation is a good example of this dynamism: such promissory notes were already circulating at the thirteenth-century Ypres fairs but became an intensively used and flexible credit tool in Antwerp. This was due to its transferability. The original debt of a debtor to a creditor and its record could be transferred to a new party, who would be paid by the original debtor when the bill was due. In 1507 the Antwerp city government ruled that a bearer had full legal powers without having to prove his ownership of the bond.75 Antwerp followed the precedents created in England (Davey vs. Burton in 1436)76 and in Lübeck (1499 and 1502).77 This rule of law endorsed full transferability of the obligation in Antwerp. The central government would issue ordinances in 1537 and 1541 establishing what had already been accepted in Antwerp much earlier, after the lobbying of politically influential Antwerp merchants.78 This clearly indicates institutions moving at different speeds, such that the local government starkly outpaced the central authorities. Not all merchants on the Antwerp market

72 Wilfrid Brulez, “De handel”, in Antwerpen in de XVIde eeuw, ed. Walter Couvreur, Antwerp, pp. 109–42, here pp. 132–6; Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market, vol. II, pp. 333–68; Herman Van der Wee, “Anvers et les innovations de la technique financière aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles”, in Annales: Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations, 22/5, 1977, pp. 1067–89; Herman Van der Wee, “Antwerpens bijdrage tot de ontwikkeling van de moderne geld- en banktechniek”, in Tijdschrift voor economie, 4, 1965, pp. 488–500. For the legal mechanisms underlying these instruments: Dave De ruysscher, Handel en recht in de Antwerpse rechtbank (1585–1713), Leuven, 2009; Dave De ruysscher, “Innovating financial law in early modern Europe: transfers of commercial paper and recourse liability in legislation and ius commune (sixteenth to eighteenth centuries)”, in European review of private law, 19/5, pp. 505–18. 73 Wilfrid Brulez, “De diaspora der Antwerpse kooplui op het einde van de 16e eeuw”, in Bijdragen tot de geschiedenis, 15, 1960, pp. 279–306. 74 This argument is presented in a more extensive version in Jeroen Puttevils, “Tweaking financial instruments: bills obligatory in sixteenth-century Antwerp”, 22/3, 2015, pp. 337–61. 75 CAA, Vierschaar, V # 68, 13r, 7 June 1507. 76 John H. Munro, “English ‘backwardness’ and financial innovations in commerce with the Low Countries, 14th to 16th centuries”, in International trade in the Low Countries (14th-16th centuries): merchants, organisation, infrastructure: proceedings of the international conference Ghent-Antwerp, 12th-13th January 1997, eds Bruno Blondé, Anke Greve & Peter Stabel, Leuven, 2000, pp. 144–51. Although this is not undisputed: Stephen E. Sachs, “Burying Burton: Burton v. Davy and the Law of Negotiable Instruments”, 2002. 77 Munro, “English ‘backwardness’”, p. 151; Michael North, “Banking and credit in northern Germany in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries”, in Banchi pubblici, banchi privati e monti di pietà nell’Europa preindustriale: amministrazione, tecniche operative e ruoli economici, eds Dino Puncuh & Guiseppe Felloni, Atti della Società Ligure di Storia Patria, Genoa, 1991, pp. 821–2; De Ruysscher, Handel en recht, p. 237. 78 Charles Laurent, Jules-Pierre-Auguste Lameere & Henri Simont, Recueil des ordonnances des Pays-Bas: 2e série, 1506–1700, Brussels, 1893–1922, IV, 1537, pp. 15–17; Van der Wee, The growth of the Antwerp market, II, p. 345; Van der Wee, “Antwerp and the new financial methods”, p. 153; de Smedt, “De keizerlijke verordeningen van 1537 en 1539 op de obligaties en wisselbrieven: eenige kantteekeningen”, in Nederlandsche Historiebladen: driemaandelijks tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis en de kunstgeschiedenis van de Nederlanden, 3, 1940–1941, pp. 25–6.

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felt equally comfortable with the flexible circulation of obligations. French and Spanish merchants, more often than other traders, had the transfer of bonds on to a third party formally registered by a notary.79 In 1565, the nation of the merchants from Lucca explicitly condemned “transportz privez de main a main”: they claimed it caused collusion and fraud involving substantial sums and had ruined several merchants.80 A formal system registering such transfers, as mentioned in 1622 by Gerard de Malynes in his Lex Mercatoria to have existed in Rouen and Lisbon, could have provided additional guarantees.81 No such system existed in Antwerp. Registering all transfers would have increased transaction costs, thereby hindering the flexibility offered by trading bonds. The town clerks and notaries could always formalise a transfer upon demand, and in case of default legal action could be started. These practices would raise transaction costs for some bonds but not for all of them, which a formal registry system would do. The example of the obligation fits recent accounts of the dissemination of Renaissance ideas. When transplanted to another context, ideas and concepts, but in this case also financial techniques, developed into something new and innovative. Several revolutionary elements from the Renaissance can be related to such instances of imperfect imitation.82 2.5. The Political Economy of the Antwerp Market So far, the story told about the ascent of Low Countries merchants operating out of Antwerp in the sixteenth century may not strike the reader as unique or revolutionary. Other groups such as the Florentines in the thirteenth century, the South-Germans in the fifteenth century, the English Merchant Adventurers in the sixteenth century and Dutch merchants in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, have similarly relied on specialisation in the export of local products, on advanced commercial and financial techniques and on the provision of market infrastructure and open-access institutions for the protection of property rights and contract enforcement. What sets the Low Countries traders apart from these other groups is their political position in their home town.

79 Puttevils, “Tweaking Financial Instruments”. 80 “Laquelle est pretexte notoirement de infinies simulations et collusion voires aussy de tant importantes sommes que soubz ombre d’icelle clause plusieurs deviennent à ruyne”, Goris, Étude sur les colonies, p. 111. 81 Gerard Malynes, Consuetudo, vel lex mercatoria, or The ancient law-merchant: Diuided into three parts: according to the essentiall parts of trafficke. Necessarie for all statesmen, iudges, magistrates, temporall and ciuile lawyers, mint-men, merchants, marriners, and all others negotiating in all places of the world, London, 1622, p. 100. Such a system was also in place in medieval York: Pamela Nightingale, “The Rise and Decline of Medieval York: A Reassessment”, in Past & Present, 206/1, 2010, p. 6. 82 Guido Ruggiero, “Introduction. Renaissance dreaming: in search of a paradigm”, in A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford: Blackwell, 2002, pp. 1–20, here p. 7; Peter Burke uses a similar definition for the circulation of Renaissance culture. Peter Burke, “The historical geography of the Renaissance”, in A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford, 2002, pp. 88–103, here pp. 97–100.

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Figure 2.3. Jost Amman, Eigentliche Abbildung deß ganzen Gewerbs der löblichen Kaufmannschafft, 1585, broadside print, Koninklijke bibliotheek van België, Prentenkabinet, Brussels, S. II 4990. The broadsheet shows the Antwerp cityscape, transport to and from the city and all kinds of commercial and financial operations.

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Research on the mayors and aldermen, the lords of sixteenth-century Antwerp, has shown that very few of them either were active traders or came from families with a commercial background: there was a gap between the political and the economic elite in Antwerp.83 The political elite consisted of owners of urban land and rural estates. In Lyon, also a commercial centre that developed from a fair town into a permanent market, the mercantile elite seized power in the first half of the sixteenth century to the detriment of the old “république des clercs”.84 Sixteenth-century Seville was ruled by an oligarchy of noblemen with firm roots in commerce and the London aldermen and mayors were often members of the Merchant Adventurers’ Company.85 Italian city-states were similarly controlled by mercantile and financial elites, although their elites were acquiring more landed wealth in the sixteenth century. The Low Countries merchants’ lack of direct political power within their own operational hub and the absence of commercial interests among the Antwerp political elite at the end of the fifteenth century explain the counterintuitive observation of a city policy biased against its own traders while providing significant advantages for foreigners. The city government confirmed and extended new privileges to groups of foreign traders when the Bruges market received its coup de grâce because of its resistance to Maximilian of Austria. Because of their disinterest in commerce the Antwerp political elite were not concerned about the competition of the foreign traders they sought to attract. The Antwerp aldermen were more interested in the money which would pour into the city coffers, the additional employment and the rise in value of the real property owned by the political elite, all as a result of the growth in trade.86 This pro-foreign traders policy did not meet any resistance from local traders; in 1485 an attempt was made to set up a local merchants’ guild with fiscal privileges for permanent residents only (which would exclude future foreign competition coming from merchants leaving Bruges for Antwerp). Yet, while the privilege was granted, no further reference to this guild after 1485 can be found, which

83 Guido Marnef, Antwerpen in de tijd van de Reformatie: Ondergronds protestantisme in een handelsmetropool, 1550–1577, Antwerp, 1996, p. 40; Koen Wouters, “Tussen verwantschap en vermogen: de politieke elite van Antwerpen (1520–1555): een elite-onderzoek door middel van de prosopografische methode”, master dissertation Free University of Brussels, 2001; Koen Wouters, “Een open oligarchie? De machtsstructuur in de Antwerpse magistraat tijdens de periode 1520–1555”, in Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire, 2004, pp. 905–34; Janna Everaert, “Power in the metropolis: the impact of economic and demographic growth on the Antwerp City Council (1400–1550)”, in Urban History, forthcoming in 2020. 84 Richard Gascon, Grand commerce et vie urbaine au 16e siècle: Lyon et ses marchands (environs de 1520-environs de 1580), Paris, 1971. 85 Ruth Pike, Aristocrats and traders: Sevillian society in the sixteenth century, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1972; Ian W. Archer, The Pursuit of Stability: Social Relations in Elizabethan London, Cambridge, 1991, p. 18; George Daniel Ramsay, The City of London in International Politics at the Accession of Elizabeth Tudor, Manchester, 1975, p. 40. 86 I am building further on Ramsay, The City of London, p. 13.

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indicates its inability to resist the pro-foreign urban policy.87 The Antwerp city government’s late-fifteenth-century choice to further its trade by extending privileges to groups of foreign traders proved to be an institutional lock-in. In the third quarter of the sixteenth century more and more voices could be heard against this policy because, when the Antwerp aldermen attracted foreign traders at the end of the fifteenth century, their privileges were not linked to reciprocal privileges for Antwerp traders abroad, who were by then a growing group.88 In 1564–5, during the mutual trade boycott between England and the Low Countries, a small group of Antwerp traders active in England coalesced around Gillis Hooftman, born in Trier, an important merchant active in trade with England and a creditor of the English crown. The Hooftman faction wished to obtain the same extensive privileges in London as those enjoyed by the Merchant Adventurers in Antwerp. To that end, it wanted to organise a company of its own, in the style of the Fellowship of Merchant Adventurers, with an office in London. The faction found several allies in the central government in Brussels such as Christoffel d’A ssonleville, a member of the Council of State and assistant to Viglius of Aytta and Cardinal Granvelle. D’A ssonleville, together with Granvelle and the Count of Egmont, lord of Armentières, wanted to reinvigorate the native textile industry and protect it from English competition by raising taxes on English imports and abolishing the privileges of the Merchant Adventurers.89 The city council, eager to avoid offending the Merchant Adventurers, did not wish to support this plan which would empower the Fellowship’s Antwerp competitors. The council tried to defuse this volatile situation which risked hastening the departure of the Fellowship from Antwerp; such a break would fundamentally undermine the city’s commercial position. The magistracy argued that the city’s wealth and the prosperity of the Low Countries were dependent on the “connexiteyt”, or connectivity, forged by foreign merchant nations; if the link with the Merchant Adventurers were to be broken, this entire economic chain would collapse.90 In the end, the Hooftman faction’s attempts to undermine the strong position of the Merchant Adventurers were thwarted because the Antwerp and central governments feared that the Merchant Adventurers would abandon the city for another commercial centre and were therefore disinclined

87 CAA, Privilegiekamer, Raeckt den Handel, Pk # 1012. Copye vut den ambacht boeck deser stadt van Antwerpe vande incorporatie oft societeyt der cooplieden gemaeckt indt Jaer 1485 opden 5den dach Maye. Published in: Denucé, “De beurs van Antwerpen: oorsprong en eerste ontwikkeling 15e en 16e eeuwen”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, 6, 1931, pp. 96–100. See also: Materné, “Schoon ende bequaem”, p. 52. This document has often been incorrectly interpreted as foundation deed of the first Antwerp exchange: Jos Marechal, Geschiedenis van de Brugse beurs, Bruges, 1949, pp. 40–1; Edwin S. Hunt & James M. Murray, A history of business in medieval Europe, Cambridge, 1999, p. 214. 88 This episode is recounted in Ramsay, The City of London; George Daniel Ramsay, The Queen’s Merchants and the Revolt of the Netherlands: The End of the Antwerp Mart, Manchester, 1986. 89 On Egmont as the promoter of local textile interests see Guy Edward Wells, Antwerp and the government of Philip II, 1555–1567, unpublished PhD dissertation Cornell University, 1982, pp. 291–93; and on D’A ssonleville: Maurice Van Durme, “Christoffel d’A ssonleville”, in Nationaal biografisch woordenboek, Brussels, vol. 2, 1966, pp. 16–9. 90 De Smedt, De Engelse natie, I, p. 315.

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Figure 2.4. Maerten De Vos, Gillis Hooftman and his wife Margaretha van Nispen, 1570, Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, SK-A-1717. © Rijksmuseum Amsterdam

to further the interests of Antwerp merchants who were pushing for a merchants’ guild.91 The contrast between, on the one hand, Low Countries merchants and their Antwerp city government and the Merchant Adventurers’ relationships with the urban government of London and the royal court on the other hand could not be starker; the English crown bestowed extensive privileges on its natives, the Merchant Adventurers’s Company, in return for revenue and loans, and withdrew the privileges of foreigners such as the Hansa and even raised tolls on their trade.92 Hence, sixteenth-century Antwerp holds an ambivalent position within the history of commercial institutions. On the one hand, Antwerp developed infrastructure and institutions for contract registration and enforcement accessible to all traders, which may have triggered the ascent of Low Countries traders and definitely increased the amount of trade handled by the city, bringing 91 Only in the 1580s were two Antwerp trader companies founded, one for the trade with England and one for the trade with the “West” (the French and Iberian coasts), but by then the tide had already turned for Antwerp. Oskar De Smedt, “Het College der Nederlandsche kooplieden op Engeland148”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, 1/2–3, 1926, pp. 113–20 & 321–48; Oskar De Smedt, “Een Antwerpsch plan tot organisatie van den Nederlandschen zeehandel op het Westen”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, 2/2, 1927, pp. 14–30. 92 Ramsay, The City of London.

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prosperity. The development of these institutions is said to have caused the decline of merchants’ guilds, for which Antwerp is a case in point; this mirrors the Burckhardtian idea of the individual tearing off the corporate chains which had controlled his world for ages.93 On the other hand, by granting privileges at the end of the fifteenth century when Antwerp’s steep rise in commercial enterprise began, the city government found itself trapped in a path-dependent scheme in which it could not support native traders in their operations abroad and in which it was vulnerable to the strategic decisions of other groups of merchants during international political conflicts. Yet, despite this lack of home support Low Countries merchants were still able to carve out market shares both in their home town, where their competitors had a superior position thanks to the privileges they enjoyed, and in different European trade centres, including London, where the regime was very much opposed to their presence, causing insecurity of property rights and increasing fiscal dues on their trade. This goes to show that although institutions definitely matter, they are only part of a larger story.

93 John Jeffries Martin, “The myth of renaissance individualism”, in A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, pp. 208–24.

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Dave De Ruysscher   *

Antwerp Commercial Law in the Sixteenth Century: A Product of the Renaissance? The Legal Facilitating, Appropriating and Improving of Mercantile Practices 3.1. Introduction When it comes to law, the notion of “Renaissance” is commonly used in two different meanings, i.e. that of legal humanism and also in the sense of academic legal culture. The coming into being of Antwerp municipal commercial law was related to both. The presence of university-trained lawyers in sixteenth-century Antwerp and their influence on the formulation of municipal law invites examination of the commercial law of Antwerp and of the city’s legal system against the background of contemporary academic views, including humanist ones. Over the course of the 1500s, it was jurists who drew up the Antwerp rules regarding mercantile and other contracts. Their solutions breathe concepts and ideas of academic legal doctrine, even though they were based on mercantile practices and techniques as well. The first-mentioned meaning of “Renaissance” denotes an intellectual shift towards the reconstruction of Roman law, which entailed a focus on classical languages and a search for historical texts. This new legal-humanist approach originated in Italy in the middle of the 1400s and was refined in France over the course of the next century.1 Legal humanism is usually not considered for its contributions to commercial law. However, because legal humanism renewed European academic legal culture and because university-based law and legal methods had a strong influence in local jurisdictions, it can be presumed to have been relevant in the shaping of municipal law concerning mercantile agreements and situations.2 A first goal of this chapter is therefore to examine whether the

* Associate professor of legal history at Tilburg University and associate professor of legal history at the Vrije Universiteit Brussels (VUB). I would like to extend my gratitude for their remarks to the participants at the workshop that was organised in May 2009 in preparation of this volume, and to the referees reporting on an earlier version. Dirk Heirbaut (Ghent University), Tammo Wallinga (University of Antwerp), James Mearns (KU Leuven) and Wim Decock (KU Leuven) commented on earlier drafts of this chapter, for which they are cordially thanked. 1 Manlio Bellomo, The Common Legal Past of Europe, 1000–1800, Washington, 1995, pp. 204–10; Peter Stein, Roman Law in European History, Cambridge, 1999, pp. 76–82. 2 The fifteenth- and sixteenth-century formative process of municipal – and also of princely – law all over continental Europe, which entailed the application of academic theories, concepts and rules, has but rarely been studied. One older example is Helmut Coing, Die Rezeption des Römischen Rechts in Frankfurt am Main. Ein Beitrag zur Rechtsgeschichte, Frankfurt am Main, 1939. This lack of attention is due to a rather surprising persistence of nineteenth-century views as to a dichotomy between customary law (local law or ius proprium) and learned law (legal doctrine, which was commonly Dave De Ruysscher • Tliburg University & Free University of Brussels Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 55–88.

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DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.119777

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development of Antwerp commercial law in the sixteenth century is correlated to an influence from contemporary legal humanism. In so doing, attention must be paid to the characteristics of legal humanism as distinguished from academic legal culture in general. For the purpose of this volume, this is the more relevant because another common meaning (the abovementioned second one) of Renaissance with regard to law directly points to legal scholarship in general. The scholastic interpretations of texts of Roman law began around 1100 and thereafter spread throughout the known world. Charles Haskins considered “the revival of jurisprudence” as a major achievement of the Renaissance of the twelfth century.3 What was rebooted in the early twelfth century, and first and foremost in Italian cities, was the idea that law is a product of reasoning. This mirrored essential characteristics of Roman law. In the early twelfth century Roman law was re-appropriated in scholarly writings through an analysis of the Corpus Iuris Civilis, which had been drawn up under the sixth-century Roman Emperor Justinian and which contained the Digesta and the Codex. As a result, academic lawyers acquired and built up a law that was capable of rationalisation through internal principles alone and which comprised abstract concepts (e.g. property, contract) that allowed for subsuming and organising practices and factual elements.4 In the early Middle Ages, after the collapse of the Roman legal systems and before the revival of academic legal culture, law in the mentioned sense did not exist. After 1100, legal literature written by academics became the catalyst of a high-level legal culture all over Europe.5

labelled ius commune). The latter is generally thought of as being a more prestigious object of study because of its intricacy and sophistication; local law is then seen as different, in contents as well as underlying values, from this “Professorenrecht”. See on the mentioned dichotomy, for example Paolo Grossi, L’ordine giuridico medievale, Laterza, 2006; António Manuel Hespanha, “Savants et rustiques: la violence douce de la raison juridique”, in Ius Commune. Zeitschrift für europäische Rechtsgeschichte, 10, 1983, pp. 1–47; James Q. Whitman, “The Moral Menace of Roman Law and the Making of Commerce: Some Dutch Evidence”, in Yale Law Journal, 105, 1995–1996, pp. 1841–89. A recent (but still exceptional) re-appraisal of the interactions between academic and local law is Harold J. Berman, Law and Revolution II. The Impact of the Protestant Reformations on the Western Legal Tradition, Cambridge (MA), 2006, pp. 156–75. The approach of Emanuele Conte (Università di Roma Tre), who regards late-medieval statutes of Italian cities as being intimately connected to legal doctrine, is promising. See for example Emanuele Conte, “Roman Law vs. Custom in a Changing Society: Italy in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries”, in Custom. The Development and Use of a Legal Concept in the Middle Ages. Proceedings of the Fifth Carlsberg Conference on Medieval Legal History, eds Per Andersen & Mia Münster-Swendsen, Copenhagen, 2009, pp. 33–49. The history of municipal commercial law and of its academic embedment remains largely unwritten. See for some interesting research with regard to sixteenth-century Augsburg, highlighting the importance of academic law in municipal forensic practice and legislation, Christoph Becker, “Der Einfluss der Rechtsschule von Bologna auf das Wirtschaftsrecht in Augsburg”, in Schwaben und Italien. Zwei europäische Kulturlandschaften zwischen Antike und Moderne (Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereins für Schwaben, 102), eds Wolfgang Wüst, Peter Fassl & Rainhard Riepertinger, Augsburg, 2010, pp. 369–85. 3 Charles H. Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century, Cambridge, 1927, pp. 193–223. 4 This definition of law, and in reference to its Roman beginnings, is proposed in Aldo Schiavone, The Invention of Law in the West, Cambridge (MA), 2012, pp. 3–4. 5 Bellomo, The Common Legal Past of Europe, pp. 52–77; Harold J. Berman, Law and Revolution. The Formation of the Western Legal Tradition, Cambridge (MA), 1983.

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Also as a general cultural phenomenon of Italian origin, the Renaissance can be linked to Antwerp. Between approximately 1535 and 1565, which was at the height of the Transalpine Renaissance, the city was the leading commercial centre in Europe, which it had been since the 1490s. Trade contributed to cultural renewal in Northwest Europe at that time. In those years, Antwerp was a hub for many merchants, coming from the Italian and Spanish Peninsulas, from England and from German regions. Netherlanders were also involved in trade in Antwerp. As a result of the interactions among these traders, new mercantile techniques were brought to Antwerp. Many of these techniques had Italian roots. The methods of trade, as well as mercantile contracts and usages, were legally elaborated on in Antwerp’s municipal law, which took the practices of commerce as the basis for solutions that were thoroughly impregnated with academic notions. It will be made clear below that of the three mentioned Renaissances it was the aftermath of the Renaissance of the twelfth century and its dispersal in Northwest continental Europe that proved fundamental for Antwerp’s commercial law. After all, it was mainly the academically imbued municipal law, which had been crafted out of late-medieval writings, that mattered for resolving disputes, and not the practices of merchants. Customs of trade were few, and other mercantile practices were too superficial from a legal point of view to solve complex problems. The gradual restructuring of the Antwerp legal system after 1460, which went together with an incremental use of legal doctrine, resulted in the creation of Antwerp commercial law. Initially, in the first half of the 1500s, academic approaches served to update the practice of the court and the enforcement of debts, and later on they became a tool to capture the contents of mercantile contracts within a legal-theoretical framework. In turn, this framing of business methods within academic schemes fostered a further quick absorption of new practices of merchants, such as indorsement of bills of exchange. In the first part, the modest upgrading of a fifteenth-century system of executing contracts in relation to academic concepts will be detailed. In the second, we will examine to what extent humanist culture influenced Antwerp lawyers and the commercial law that they crafted. The third part assesses the relative importance of academic culture vis-à-vis (Italian and other) mercantile techniques within the law that was applied in Antwerp in matters of trade. 3.2. Academic Legal Culture and First Changes to the Antwerp Legal System (after c. 1460) For the most part of the fifteenth century, Antwerp law was mainly unwritten and disorganised. It was less a matter of written rules than of memory. In this period, textual approaches towards municipal law were minimal. The Antwerp administrators (“aldermen”) and the Duke of Brabant, being the lord of Antwerp, sometimes promulgated bylaws that were registered in ledgers for consultation. However, such official decrees were rather rare and they were mostly concerned

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with general safety, guilds and public health.6 Solutions regarding agreements between citizens, inhabitants and visiting merchants remained for the most part unwritten, and if they were written down this was done in an abbreviated form. This was very much the case for rules relating to mercantile contracts. The Keurboeck, which was a compilation of Antwerp regulations that had been put together from the beginning of the fourteenth century onwards, lists some sections dealing with debts arising out of sale contracts.7 Succinct legal precepts on commercial contracts can be found in privileges that were granted by the Duke of Brabant to groups of merchants visiting Antwerp. Ducal charters that in 1296 and 1305 were handed out to English traders contain some rules regarding contracts of sale.8 Moreover, fourteenth- and fifteenth-century judgments of the Antwerp Municipal Court were brief and seldom explicit on the rules that were linked to types of mercantile contracts (coop (i.e. sale), geselschap (i.e. partnership)).9 With regard to mercantile agreements this understated law mostly focused on the enforcement of debts. Over the course of the second half of the 1400s, it became possible to seize (to lay attachment on, arrest) the effects of a debtor on the basis of any agreement or promise and to have them sold publicly if the debtor did not offer payment, even if no collateral for the debt had been fixed.10 In response to this new regime, visitors to the Brabant fairs at Whitsun and Bamis were protected against seizure and expropriation of assets that were pursued in compensation for debts that had not been incurred at the fairs. For the duration of the so-called “freedom of the market” (marktvrijheid), which

6 “Clementeynboeck, 1288–1414”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, first series, vol. 25, s.d., pp. 101–465, vol. 26, s.d., pp. 1–136, second series, vol. 5, 1930, pp. 124–59; “Het 2e oudt register in’t parkement gebonden, 1438–1459”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, first series, vol. 29, s.d., pp. 262–471 and vol. 30, s.d., pp. 1–471. 7 An analysis and dating of the sections of the Keurboeck can be found in Frans Blockmans, “Het vroegste officiële ambachtswezen te Antwerpen”, in Bijdragen voor de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden, 8, 1954, pp. 161–201. The Keurboeck was published in Coutumes de la ville d’Anvers, ed. Guillaume De Longé (Coutumes du pays et duché de Brabant. Quartier d’Anvers), vol. 1, Brussels, 1870, pp. 2–89. See for a sections on debts, p. 26 (s. 66). 8 “Une charte brabançonne inédite de 1296 en faveur des marchands anglais”, ed. Hendrik Obreen, Bulletin de la Commission royale d’Histoire, 80, 1911, pp. 528–57; Frans Henri Mertens & Karel Louis Torfs, Geschiedenis van Antwerpen sedert de stichting der stad tot onze tyden, vol. 2, Antwerp, 1846, pp. 543–52. 9 “Oudt Register, mette Berderen, 1336–1439”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, first series, 26, s.d., pp. 414–27, 27, s.d., pp. 1–472, 28, s.d., pp. 1–472, and 29, s.d., pp. 1–261; “Het 2e Oudt Register, in’t parkement gebonden, 1438–1459”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, first series, 29, s.d., pp. 262–471, and 30, s.d., pp. 1–471. See also Egied I. Strubbe & Edward Spillemaeckers, “‘De Antwerpse rechtsaantekeningen’ van Willem de Moelnere”, in Bulletin de la Commission royale pour la publication des anciennes lois et ordonnances de Belgique, 18, 1954, pp. 7–148. 10 Dave De Ruysscher, “Bankruptcy, Insolvency and Debt Collection Among Merchants in Antwerp (c. 1490–c. 1540)”, in The History of Bankruptcy. Economic, Social and Cultural Implications in EarlyModern Europe, ed. Th.M. Safley, Abingdon, 2013, pp. 188–9.



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lasted a few weeks before, during, and after the fairs, only debts that had been negotiated at a (previous) fair could be enforced by means of seizure of assets.11 Most of the rules regarding commercial agreements that were imposed by the Antwerp aldermen, in judgments as well as by means of bylaws, concerned enforcement remedies. The aldermen offered the contracting parties the possibility of swift execution, but only upon registration of the debt. The Antwerp administrators endorsed arrangements in certificates (certificatiën) and so-called “aldermen’s letters” (schepenbrieven). The latter were used for gheloften (i.e. promises) and voirwairden (i.e. agreements).12 Certificates could be handed out for ascertaining statements or situations. These documents could serve to upgrade the evidential value of the debt mentioned in them. Moreover, since the first decades of the 1400s, the execution of a debt that had been inserted into an aldermen’s letter was possible with short proceedings. In their role of judges, the aldermen “read”, i.e. confirmed, the letters and certificates that they had issued earlier.13 The authentication of debts was fairly easy, which meant that contents of contracts were more or less freely established. In the courtroom of the Antwerp Municipal Court, this approach of stamping and executing promises and contracts went together with reluctance towards imposing rules that breached the contents of agreements. Until the middle of the sixteenth century, the aldermen did not create default rules, serving as models for contracts and allowing for the checking of their contents in case the agreement was unclear. Measures prohibiting certain provisions of contract were also rare until that time.14 After 1480, Antwerp judgments were systematically written down in ledgers.15 In the final decades of the fifteenth century, the French technique of the enquête par turbe became popular in Antwerp. When a question of law was raised, such a turbe inquiry was held and ten or more legal professionals (former aldermen, practitioners and civil servants), who were often jurists by training, were

11 Antwerp City Archives (FelixArchief ) (hereinafter ACA), Vierschaar (hereinafter V), no. 2, s. 141 and fol. 35. See for an edited version of this text Dave De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht in de aanloop naar de costuymen van 1548. Uitgave van het Gulden Boeck (c. 1510–c. 1537), (projecten van) ordonnanties (1496–c. 1546), een rechtsboek (c. 1541–c. 1545) en proeven van hoofdstukken van de costuymen van 1548”, in Bulletin de la Commission royale pour la publication des anciennes lois et ordonnances de Belgique, 54, 2013, pp. 65–324, here pp. 158–59 and p. 174. 12 Gustaaf Asaert, “De oudste certificatiën van de stad Antwerpen (1468–1482)”, in Handelingen van de Koninklijke Commissie voor Geschiedenis – Bulletin de la Commission royale d’Histoire, 132, 1966, pp. 261–3. 13 Philipp Godding, “Les conflits à propos des lettres échevinales des villes brabançonnes (XVe–XVIIIe siècles)”, in The Legal History Review (Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis), 22, 1954, pp. 308–17; Raoul C. Van Caenegem, “La preuve dans l’ancien droit belge des origines à la fin du XVIIIe siècle”, in La preuve. Deuxième partie. Moyen Âge et Temps modernes, Brussels, 1963, pp. 405–7. 14 Dave De Ruysscher, “L’interprétation des contrats commerciaux à Anvers (c. 1490–c. 1540)”, in L’interprétation du droit, ed. Boris Bernabé, in press. 15 ACA, Privilegiekamer (hereinafter PK), no. 93; ACA, V, no. 1231.

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interviewed on the contents of rules of Antwerp municipal law.16 These newly organised inquiries into law reflect the growing influence of academic procedural law, as mentioned in French procedural treatises, and which had become applied in princely courts some time before. When at the end of the 1460s the princely Council of Brabant established its jurisdiction in appeal over the judgments of the Antwerp aldermen, the principles of the Romano-canonical law of procedure that were used there also shaped the proceedings of the Antwerp Municipal Court.17 Moreover, the appropriation of academic procedural ideas brought about a concern for textuality in law, which in this first phase of the later fifteenth and the early decades of the sixteenth centuries consisted of an aim for the recording of rules. The questionnaires and answers of the mentioned turbe inquiries were written down and bundled together into so-called turbeboecken (i.e. ledgers of turben), which after a certain period of time facilitated the production of evidence on previously attested Antwerp municipal norms.18 The influence of learned precepts in Antwerp’s court procedures in the second half of the fifteenth century helped to change late-medieval local ideas that were felt to be incompatible with the emerging international market situation. Because of the coming to Antwerp of many more merchants after approximately 1490, measures for which no precedent could be found in Antwerp’s older law were sometimes taken. An important legal change, which in its concrete form hinged on academic doctrine, related to bankruptcy proceedings. The interests of international firms, which for their business undertakings relied on often slowly distributed information, required an update of the Antwerp rules of expropriation. The generalisation of seizure for debts in the later decades of the fifteenth century had meant that debts could be secured quickly in the event of a debtor’s imminent failure. It was in the interests of creditors to act swiftly, also because on payment of the proceeds of the public sale a first attachment (arrest) was given priority over later ones. “First come, first served” was held to be the general principle. However, in January 1516, it was decided that all claimants without express collateral (i.e. contractual and legal hypothecs) should be given an equal share of the assets, irrespective of the date or time of their attachment. As a result, creditors could no longer take advantage of local news regarding the payment problems of contracting parties, at the expense of slower players acting from abroad. The 1516 bylaw also acknowledged that facteurs (i.e. salaried business agents) and procuratores (i.e. agents on mandate) were to be treated as acting on behalf of their masters.19 A 1518 bylaw detailed the periods during 16 John Gilissen, “La preuve de la coutume dans l’ancien droit belge”, in Hommage au professeur Paul Bonenfant (1899–1965). Études d’histoire médiévale dédiées à sa mémoire par les anciens élèves de son séminaire à l’Université Libre de Bruxelles, ed. Georges Despy, Brussels, 1965, pp. 568–70. 17 See Dave De Ruysscher, “Naer het Romeinsch recht alsmede den stiel mercantiel”, Handel en recht in de Antwerpse rechtbank (16de–17de eeuw), Kortrijk, 2009, p. 105. 18 ACA, V, no. 68. 19 Recueil des ordonnances des Pays-Bas, 2nd series, vol. 1, ed. Charles Laurent, Brussels, 1893, pp. 464–6 (21 January 1516 (ns)). For an edited version, on the basis of all existing manuscripts, see De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 196–9.

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which a claim could be filed against a bankrupt’s estate, laying down six weeks for creditors from neighbouring duchies and counties and three months for interested parties who lived further away.20 Although the 1516 and 1518 bylaws were still modelled on the older seizure procedure, equality of (non-collateralised) debts was a fundamentally new idea in Antwerp municipal law, not least because it was a solution that had been drawn from academic doctrine or texts that had been inspired by it.21 Another example of the enabling powers of academic legal notions concerns the circulation of commercial paper. In the later 1400s and early 1500s, written acknowledgments of debt underwent important transformations and developed to become transferable commercial documents. At a 1507 turbe inquiry, Antwerp public servants, advocates, and proctors (procureurs) – some of them were jurists – stated that an acknowledgment of debt to which a bearer clause, “payable to X or bearer”, had been added could be passed on in payment for debts.22 The holder of such a document could collect his debt from the person who had signed the document. The contents of the precept were not fundamentally new since in Lübeck, for example, a similar measure had been taken some years before,23 and openings allowing for this development had been made in treatises on Brabant and Flemish law since the later fifteenth century.24 However, in Antwerp, the

20 ACA, V, no. 4 (bylaw of 2 June 1518). For an edited version of all known manuscripts, see De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 199–205. 21 Dave De Ruysscher, “Designing the Limits of Creditworthiness. Insolvency in Antwerp Bankruptcy Law and Practice (16th–17th Centuries)”, in The Legal History Review (Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis), 76, 2008, pp. 310–3. See, for the academic nature of this rule, footnote 13 in the mentioned article, and Dave De Ruysscher, “From Usages of Merchants to Default Rules: Practices of Trade, Ius Commune and Urban Law in Early Modern Antwerp”, in The Journal of Legal History, 33/1, 2012, pp. 16–7, footnote 46. The newness of the 1516 and 1518 regulations, as well as the underlying policy argument of facilitation of bankruptcy proceedings involving foreign merchants, has been accepted among economic historians. See Oscar Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce. The Institutional Foundations of International Trade in the Low Countries, 1250–1650 (The Princeton Economic History of the Western World), Princeton, 2013, pp. 117–8. 22 ACA, V, no. 68, fol. 13r (7 June 1507). 23 Michael North, “Banking and Credit in Northern Germany in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries”, in Banchi pubblici, banchi privati e monti di pieta nell’Europa preindustriale. Amministrazione, tecniche operative e ruoli economici (Atti della Società Ligure di Storia Patria, Nuova serie, 31), Genoa, 1991, vol. 2, pp. 821–2. The thesis of Van der Wee, who has suggested that the full legal acknowledgment of a bearer’s claim was an Antwerp invention, must be reconsidered on the basis of the new materials. See Herman Van der Wee, “Antwerp and the New Financial Methods of the 16th and 17th Centuries”, in Herman Van der Wee, The Low Countries in the Early Modern World, Ashgate, 1993, p. 152; Herman Van der Wee, “Anvers et les innovations de la technique financière aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles”, in Annales: economies, societies, civilisations, 22, 1967, p. 1074; Herman Van der Wee, The Growth of the Antwerp Market and the European Economy (Fourteenth– Sixteenth Centuries), The Hague, 1963, vol. 2, p. 343. See on this subject also Jeroen Puttevils, “Tweaking Financial Instruments. Bills Obligatory in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Financial History Review, 22, 2015, pp. 337–61, and Jeroen Puttevils’ chapter in this volume. 24 Willem Van der Tannerijen, Boec van der loopender practycken …, vol. 1, ed. Egied I. Strubbe, Brussels, 1952, pp. 59–60. This book dates from 1474–1476. Van der Tannerijen had been secretary of the city of Antwerp in the 1450s. See also, Filips Wielant, Practijke civile, Antwerp, 1572 (first written around 1519), p. 125 (part 3, ch. 24, no. 1), and Louis H. J. Sicking & C. H. van Rhee, Briève instruction en causes civiles (Filips Wielant. Verzameld werk, 2), Brussels, 2009, p. 119 (dating from

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mercantile custom was immersed in academic terminology, which ensured that it fitted in with other schemes of legal doctrine. The relative newness of the practice explains why the Antwerp aldermen frequently had to confirm that debt instruments to bearer were legally sound. On each of these occasions, debts to bearer were further linked to academic contract law.25 Holders were named cessionarii, for example, which echoed the academic concept of cessio, i.e. the contemporary Romanist law term describing a transfer of claims. This served to underpin the rights of holders, since a cessio of claims transferred full rights.26 The Antwerp jurists referred to this cessio in order to upgrade transfers of bearer bills to that same level, and in so doing they integrated a practice of merchants into the academic-municipal law, which allowed for its application even among groups of merchants that were reluctant to use bearer bonds.27 Both the adaptation of the bankruptcy proceedings and the rules regarding bearer notes are examples of how the appropriation of academic law helped to adjust and transform older Antwerp rules. This was done because it was thought to advantage the complex market that had reached the city. The changes were directly attributable to the embracing of academic legal culture within the city’s court and government. Yet, all in all adjustments were limited. In the first half of the 1500s, the enforcement and not the supplementing or testing of agreements was considered the most important aspect. 3.3. Legal Humanism and Antwerp Law Legal scholarship was “Romanist” even in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, since it was based on the Corpus Iuris Civilis. However, many legal historians have pointed to a second renaissance of law in the later 1400s and in the 1500s. This “Renaissance” they have labelled legal humanism. Sixteenth-century Antwerp has been described as a city in which civic humanism was important,28 but the legal aspects of this Antwerp humanism have remained largely obscure.

c. 1510, and which even though it refers to procedural reports, contains the novel rule: “Ung porteur des briefz ayant lesdictes lettres en sa main est maistre de la cause”). See for further analysis Dave De Ruysscher, “Innovating Financial Law in the Early Modern Netherlands and Europe: Transfers of Commercial Paper and Recourse Liability in Legislation and Ius Commune (Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries)”, in European Review of Private Law, 19, 2011, pp. 508–9. 25 ACA, V, no. 69, fol. 25v (19 April 1559), fol. 59v (21 June 1567), fol. 76v (24 November 1572). See also Coutumes de la ville d’Anvers, ed. Guillaume De Longé (Coutumes du pays et duché de Brabant. Quartier d’Anvers), vol. 2, Brussels, 1871, pp. 1–688 (hereafter Antwerp 1582 Law), p. 398 (ch. 53, s. 6); Coutumes de la ville d’Anvers, ed. Guillaume De Longé (Coutumes du pays et duché de Brabant. Quartier d’Anvers), vol. 3–4, Brussels, 1872–1874 (hereafter Antwerp 1608 Law, vol. 1–2), vol. 2, p. 12 (part 4, ch. 2, s. 7). 26 ACA, V, 68, fol. 13r (7 June 1507). For doctrinal views relating to cessio, see Guido Astuti, “Cessione (premessa storica)”, in Enciclopedia del diritto, vol. 6, Milan, 1960, pp. 805–22. 27 See chapter 2 by Jeroen Puttevils in this volume. 28 Marcus de Schepper, “Humanism and Humanists”, in Antwerp, Story of a Metropolis, 16th–17th Centuries, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Antwerp, 1993, pp. 97–103.

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The notion of legal humanism has two different and yet related meanings. Firstly, it has traditionally been linked to philology and a historical awareness.29 Legal and other historians have generally contended that the legal-humanist approach of the later 1400s and of the 1500s grew out of the philological examinations of the Justinianic Digesta by Angelo Poliziano (ob. 1494). His methods were adopted in France by such scholars as Guillaume Budé (ob. 1540). From the later 1520s onwards this resulted in the innovative teaching of law at the University of Bourges, under the impetus of Andrea Alciato (ob. 1550) and thereafter of François Douaren (ob. 1559). The new way of conducting legal studies, which after its French success was labelled mos galicus (docendi) in order to contrast it with the late-medieval scholastic approach of law (mos italicus), comprised a retour aux sources. Legal manuscripts were scrutinised and compared. For the first time since the Roman era, Greek versions of law texts were read as well. Philology and historical research went hand in hand. According to this general story, their new tactics allowed the legal humanists to remove layers of scholarly interpretation that had been added since the early twelfth century. A search for the so-called classical Roman law was combined with a general dislike of the “vulgar” Latin of medieval legal doctrine.30 However, over the past decades it has rightly been emphasised that the rigorous scientific study of legal texts arrived rather late in the sixteenth century. Jurists of the early 1500s did refer to errors of transcription in manuscripts and at times they interpreted Roman law precepts on the basis of Greek texts. They linked some of their ideas to fragments of Roman law that had not been inserted into the Justinianic Corpus Iuris Civilis, which was the only collection of texts with which the late-medieval Romanists had worked. However, these new practices were quite superficial since they did not involve philological science. The publication of manuscripts by jurists in the period between approximately 1500 and 1530 was not usually rooted in thorough investigations since editors often merely sought to disclose useful legal texts that had been unknown before.31 In this respect, one can refer to the Antwerp law clerk Peter Gillis (Aegidius) (see Fig. 3.1). He was a jurist and alumnus of Orléans University, as well as a humanist maintaining good contacts with Erasmus and Thomas More. In 1517, Gillis published the Lex Romana Visigothorum (506 ad), which itself contained 29 This meaning of legal humanism was already known in the eighteenth century. See Douglas J. Osler, “Images of Legal Humanism”, in Surfaces, 9, 2001, www.pum.umontreal.ca/revues/vol.9/osler.htm. 30 Bellomo, The Common Legal Past, pp. 204–08; Stein, Roman Law, pp. 75–82; Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship. Language, Law and History in the French Renaissance, New York, 1970, pp. 53–115; Raoul C. Van Caenegem, An Historical Introduction to Private Law, Cambridge, 2003, p. 44. 31 Editions were hasty and often based on one or two manuscripts only. See Douglas J. Osler, “Vestigia Doctorum Virorum: Tracking the Legal Humanists’ Manuscripts”, in Subseciva Groningana. Studies in Roman and Byzantine Law, 5, 1992, pp. 77–92. Douglas Osler has also highlighted that “humanist philology” was not rigorous, but involved sloppy referencing, conjectures and even false claims. See Douglas J. Osler, “Humanist Philology and the Text of the Justinian Digest”, in Reassessing Legal Humanism and its Claims. Petere Fontes?, eds Paul J. du Plessis & John W. Cairns, Edinburgh, 2016, pp. 46–56.

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fragments of the Codex Theodosianus (438 ad), together with excerpts of the Pauli Sententiae Receptae, an early fourth-century compilation of legal opinions based on Roman law texts. This edition was a first, but it mostly contained only excerpts and summaries.32 The attitudes of Gillis and of his colleagues were also those of legal practitioners. Throughout the sixteenth century, arguments regarding textual traditions that were put forward in legal actions were mostly hypothetical and they were not the result of an actual, let alone rigorous, comparison of manuscripts.33 Among advocates, the medieval scholastic method of legal reasoning (mos italicus) remained dominant, as was the case in most academic circles throughout the sixteenth century, and even for a long while after 1600.34 Moreover, the abovementioned humanist legal authors and others acknowledged the achievements of medieval jurists and they continued to make use of their writings.35 Until approximately 1550, legal scholarship was still a far cry from the thorough analyses that were later performed by such scholars as Denis Godefroy (Gothofredus) (ob. 1622). Even in the later decades of the sixteenth century, manuscript-bound investigations into Roman law were relatively rare. A more textual method of legal interpretation, without analogous arguments in the scholastic style, became fashionable only after 1650.36 A broad understanding of “legal humanism” has also blurred diversity within legal practice. Over time, the label of “legal humanism” became stretched in order to make it encompass certain genres of legal literature, thus resulting in a second meaning, i.e. that of practice-oriented legal science. According to older

32 Summae sive argumenta legum diversorum imperatorum, …, Leuven, 1517. For an appraisal of the value and contents of this work, see Hans E. Troje, “Die Literatur des gemeinen Rechts unter dem Einfluss des Humanismus”, in Handbuch der Quellen und Literatur der neueren europäischen Privatrechtsgeschichte, ed. Helmut Coing, vol. 2/1, Munich, 1976, p. 42. 33 Stein, Roman Law, p. 77. 34 Alain Wijffels, “Einflüsse der Doktrin auf die gerichtliche Argumentationspraxis in der frühen Neuzeit”, in Akten des 26. Deutschen Rechtshistorikertages, ed. Dieter Simon, Frankfurt am Main, 1987, p. 383; Alain Wijffels, Qvi millies allegatvr. Les allégations du droit savant dans les dossiers du Grand Conseil de Malines (causes septentrionales, ca. 1460–1580) (Verzamelen en bewerken van de jurisprudentie van de Grote Raad, Nieuwe reeks, 10), Amsterdam, 1985, vol. 1, p. 384. 35 In general, see Berman, Law and Revolution II, pp. 104–08. For Ulrich Zäsi, this has become clear due to the monograph by Stephen Rowan. See Stephen Rowan, Ulrich Zasius. A Jurist in the German Renaissance, Frankfurt am Main, 1987. Andrea Alciato and Guillaume Budé have been cast into new light by Douglas Osler and Donald R. Kelley. See Donald R. Kelley, “Civil Science in the Renaissance: Jurisprudence Italian Style”, in The Historical Journal, 22, 1979, pp. 787–8; Douglas J. Osler, “Budaeus and Roman Law”, in Ius Commune. Zeitschrift für europäische Rechtsgeschichte, 13, 1985, pp. 195–211; Douglas J. Osler, “Developments in the Text of Alciatus’ Dispunctiones”, in Ius Commune. Zeitschrift für europäische Rechtsgeschichte, 19, 1992, pp. 219–35; Douglas J. Osler, “Magna Jurisprudentiae Injuria. Cornelis van Bynkershoek on Early Legal Humanist Philology”, in Ius Commune. Zeitschrift für europäische Rechtsgeschichte, 19, 1992, pp. 61–79. Jacques Cujas’ methods have recently been re-appraised as well. He has traditionally been considered a historicist legal humanist, but now it has been made evident by Xavier Prévost that this did not exclude extensive referencing to late-medieval scholars. See Xavier Prévost, “Reassessing the Influence of Medieval Jurisprudence on Jacques Cujas’ (1522–1590) Method”, in Reassessing Legal Humanism and its Claims. Petere Fontes?, eds Paul J. du Plessis & John W. Cairns, Edinburgh, 2016, pp. 88–107. 36 Van den Bergh, Die holländische elegante Schule. For the renewal of legal methods in the seventeenth century, see Wijffels, “Einflüsse der Doktrin”, pp. 384–5.

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Figure 3.1. Quentin Matsys, Portrait of Peter Gillis, c. 1517, Galleria Nazionale de Arte Antica, Rome.

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legal-history textbooks, French legal writings of the 1500s concerning municipal, provincial and even royal legislation and judgments are to be considered as pertaining to the mos gallicus and “(legal) humanism”.37 It has often been assumed that the reason for the broadening of the concept of “legal humanism”, from a historical-philological method to an attention for local law, was the relativist conclusions that were brought about by the new analysis of Roman law texts. Textual flaws and errors of transcription found within the medieval body of Roman law manuscripts and the discovery of the fact that the Justinianic texts were a polished version of collected Roman law fragments supposedly led to the perception that the quality of Roman law was no better than that of local rules.38 However, such insights gradually followed from scientific publications of parts of the Corpus Iuris Civilis after 1530, but particularly after 1550. They made it clear that Justinian’s works were for the most part compilations of older texts.39 It was therefore only in the second half of the sixteenth century that authors such as François Hotman (ob. 1590) could convincingly contend that, because Roman law texts were not perfect, rules of local law were a preferential object of study. They were to be put before “exotic” writings based upon academic texts with which practitioners were less familiar.40 Furthermore, attention to local law and first attempts to study it in an academic fashion were definitively older than this idea. Since the early fourteenth century, tools and methods for understanding 37 In the nineteenth century, it was common to use the term mos gallicus in a broad sense. In early nineteenth-century literature, any sixteenth-century French jurist was categorized as belonging to the mos gallicus. See for example Charles-Joseph Barthélémy Giraud, Histoire du droit romain: ou introduction historique à l’étude de cette législation, Paris, 1841, pp. 461–2. Since the early twentieth century, the broad interpretation of mos gallicus was abandoned but even today it is still an underlying assumption found within many textbooks of legal history that any French author of the 1500s can be labelled a humanist. The “Procrustean and Manichean scheme” of mos gallicus and mos italicus, and the nineteenth-century mental framework of national schools thus live on, albeit often only implicitly. See A. Wijffels, “Law Books at Cambridge, 1500–1640”, in The Life of the Law. Proceedings of the Tenth British Legal History Conference, ed. Peter Birks, London, 1993, p. 65. 38 Adriano Cavanna, Storia del diritto moderno in Europa. Le fonti e il pensiero giuridico I, Milan, 1979, p. 177; Van Caenegem, An Historical Introduction, p. 56. 39 In the late-medieval tradition, the rules (constitutiones) in manuscripts of the Codex of Justinian (534 ad) did not contain references to the date or to the emperor who had issued the constitutio, which had nonetheless been added to the original version. Greek constitutiones were omitted. As a result of this, medieval scholars were unaware that the Codex was a collection of norms from very different periods of Roman history and also of its Byzantine origins. In 1530, Gregor Haloander published an integral version of the Codex for the first time. Also for the Digesta of Justinian, which was a compilation of fragments of writings of Roman jurists, the references to the author and book for the rules mentioned therein had been stripped in medieval manuscripts. In late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century printed editions of the Digesta, the names of jurists were usually added to the leges (rules), but not the titles of the books or further references. This was done for the first time in the 1553 Torelli edition and thereafter – and more systematically – in the 1583 Gothofredus edition. See on the textual history of the Corpus Iuris Civilis and other texts of Roman law in the later Middle Ages and early modern period: Harry Dondorp & Eltjo J. H. Schrage, “The Sources of Medieval Learned Law”, in The Creation of the Ius Commune. From Casus to Regula, eds John W. Cairns & Paul J. du Plessis, Edinburgh, 2010, pp. 7–18; Arthur A. Schiller, Roman Law: Mechanisms of Development, Berlin, 1978, pp. 28–57. 40 Vincenzo Piano Mortari, Diritto romano e diritto nazionale in Francio nel secolo XVI, Milan, 1962, pp. 55–66 and pp. 124–34.

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the interrelations between the local law (ius proprium) and academic law (ius commune) had been proposed in academic legal doctrine.41 Therefore, in fact, legal treatises on subjects even of strictly local importance, and also when written in vernacular language, were never completely absent from academic law. This was also the case for the period before the fifteenth century.42 Yet, nonetheless, separating local law studies from legal humanism is useful. It helps to explain, for instance, why legal treatises on the subject of Antwerp municipal law could be in the style of the mos italicus.43 Both of the abovementioned meanings of legal humanism have been related to historicism with regard to law. For legal humanism as practice-orientated science, Donald Kelley has emphasised the importance of a sixteenth-century school of French jurists that aimed at promoting a discipline of customary law. Thereby they paid considerable attention to the history of local law,44 because historical research had to provide guarantees of equity against the intrusions of an allegedly harsher Roman law.45 However, other research has yielded the insight that sixteenth-century French legal authors wrote in many traditions, and that their goals were more prosaic. Specialists in legal humanism such as Domenico Maffei and Hans Erich Troje have insisted on the fact that the programme of humanism concerning law was from its beginnings directed towards a “cleaning” of available source texts and of legal doctrine that had been written on the basis of them. They have also underlined that legal humanists wanted to re-establish order in newly mixed legal traditions. French legal authors were not attacking Roman or academic law as such, but rather were trying to systematise and simplify the existing multi-layered law, which consisted of municipal law, Roman law (source texts and doctrine) and royal statutes. They purported to reconcile the academic legal tradition with other types of law when doing so.46

41 Mario Sbriccoli, L’interpretazione dello statuto. Contributo allo studio della funzione dei giuristi nell’età comunale, Milan, 1969, pp. 462–4. 42 Examples are the Somme rural by Jehan Boutillier (end of the fourteenth century) and the Coutumes de Beauvaisis by Philippe de Beaumanoir (end of the thirteenth century). 43 An example is the Commentaria in leges municipales Antverpienses, which dates from the eighteenth century. See Royal Library in Brussels, Manuscripts, no. 13569. 44 Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship, pp. 241–76. According to this author, the writings of Antoine Loisel (ob. 1617), Etienne Pasquier (ob. 1615) and Louis le Caron (ob. 1613) concerning municipal and royal law were embedded in historical approaches, which he links to legal humanism. These views have been copied into general overviews of the history of Renaissance culture. See, for example, Charles G. Nauert, Humanism and the Culture of Renaissance Europe, Cambridge, 2006, pp. 176–7. 45 Donald R. Kelley, “Lord Deliver Us From Justice”, in Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities, 5/1, 1993, pp. 159–68; Donald R. Kelley, “Second Nature: the Idea of Custom in European Law, Society, and Culture”, in The Transmission of Culture in Early Modern Europe, eds Anthony Grafton & Ann Blair, Philadelphia, 1990, pp. 144–53. 46 Domenico Maffei, Gli inizi dell’umanesimo giuridico, Milan, 1956; Hans E. Troje, “‘Verwissenschaftlichung’ und Romanistische Jurisprudenz” (1985), “Arbeitshypothesen zum Thema ‘humanistische Jurisprudenz’” (1970) and “Zur humanistischen Jurisprudenz” (1972), in Hans E. Troje, Humanistische Jurisprudenz. Studien zur europäischen Rechtswissenschaft unter dem Einfluss des Humanismus, Goldbach, 1993, respectively pp. 253–86, pp. 77–123, and pp. 143–72.

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Historical sensibility with regard to law was most certainly a novelty in the early sixteenth century, and it was related to humanism and also to legal humanism. However, it must not be regarded as (a prelude to) legal-historical science, nor as an attempt to introduce broad historical analysis into legal studies. A search for older texts had much to do with a new epistemology of law, which marked the core feature of the legal humanism that was practised in the 1520s and 1530s. Such scholars as Alciato and Ulrich Zäsi (Zasius) (ob. 1536) attempted to trace the underlying meaning of texts through an analysis of manuscript versions. Legal historians have for some time hinted at the “elegant” or “philosophical” nature of legal humanism in the abovementioned period,47 but only quite recently have the full impact and proportions of this pioneering humanist approach towards law become clear.48 The concrete outcomes of the abovementioned ideas were substantial for local law. Rules that had haphazardly been produced in previous periods were now put into a logical order, under chapter headings, and uniform terminology was used throughout newly compiled texts. The scholastics had already pursued a thorough and deep understanding of texts, but they had refrained from changing them. By contrast, the slowly spreading culture of legal humanism prompted exactly that. The novel humanist understanding of law went together with a striving towards renovatio or reformatio. These concepts referred to the bringing of consistency, in a systematised and comprehensive form, into materials that were disconnected and patchy. In the early sixteenth century, the notion of reformatio (in melius) commonly depicted religious reform (hence “Reformation”) and it was a synonym of emendatio, which was also the label describing the philological process of “reviving” a lost archetype text.49 Throughout the sixteenth century, in France and in German territories, the term reformatio was commonly used for a rephrasing of municipal law in a new text.50 In Northwest continental Europe, in the later fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, plans to recast municipal law into a more

47 Van Caenegem, An Historical Introduction, p. 57; Franz Wieacker, A History of Private Law in Europe, Oxford, 1995 (originally from 1967), p. 122. 48 Berman, Law and Revolution II, pp. 104–26; Jan Schröder, Recht als Wissenschaft. Geschichte der juristischen Methodenlehre in der Neuzeit (1500–1933), Munich, 2012 (first edition 2001), pp. 25–49. 49 Gerald Strauss, “Ideas of Reformatio and Renovatio from the Middle Ages to the Reformation”, in Handbook of European History, 1400–1600. Later Middle Ages, Renaissance and Reformation, eds Thomas A. Brady, Heiko A. Oberman & James D. Tracy, vol. 2, Leiden, 1995, pp. 1–30. These concepts had been coined earlier, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Also with regard to law, the scholastic method, which entailed references to a ratio or “reason” of written rules, has been described as emendatio. The mentioned humanist element of rewriting the law on the basis of its “spirit” is not taken into account in literature that underscores continuity between the scholastic and the humanist methods concerning ratio. See Ian Maclean, Interpretation and Meaning in the Renaissance. The Case of Law, Cambridge, 1992; Schröder, Recht als Wissenschaft, pp. 25–49; Govaert C. J. J. Van den Bergh, Die holländische elegante Schule. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte von Humanismus und Rechtswissenschaft in den Niederlanden 1500–1800, Frankfurt am Main, 2002, pp. 35–9. 50 Examples are the Reformacion der kayserlichen stadt Nuremberg (1503) and the Frankfurt erneuerte Reformacion (1578). See “Reformation (Rechtsquelle)”, in Handbuch zur Deutschen Rechtsgeschichte, vol. 4, Berlin, 1990, col. 468–72. In sixteenth-century France, the notions of réduction or réformation were commonly used for revisions of compilations of coutumes.

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systematic form became widespread. This new way of doing also responded to the efforts of states to translate municipal law into writing. Such policies had started in France in the middle of the fifteenth century and they became copied in the Netherlands and German cities thereafter. The imposed “homologation” of municipal law triggered the writing of drafts of structured compilations of rules in which the legal-humanist views were applied.51 An example of a text of “reformed” municipal law is the 1520 Stadtrecht of Freiburg im Breisgau, which was written by Ulrich Zäsi.52 In the Netherlands, at around the same time, the legal author Philip Wielant drew up comparable compilations, such as projects of law for the County of Flanders and a municipal law for Haarlem.53 In Antwerp, the nouvelle vague arrived around 1530. From the early 1510s onwards, a list of excerpts from enquêtes par turbe had circulated in the Antwerp institutional bodies, but it lacked coherence and teemed with repetitions and unclear phrases. Shortly after 1530, this so-called Golden Book was rearranged. Its contents were brought into line with new municipal bylaws and some sections were omitted. The older approach of giving more weight to authority was not eradicated entirely. Some redundant parts of the earlier compilation were kept but in other paragraphs significant changes were made and new judicially applied principles were inserted. The first extant collection of Antwerp law that was sent in for princely approval as the city’s law book, in 1548, was also the outcome of a thorough revision, involving changes to the contents of the Antwerp municipal law.54 The process of compiling and correcting overviews of rules was dependent on the use of archival records. Even though the legal culture in Antwerp had been predominantly oral before the last years of the fifteenth century, some important norms of municipal law had been fixed in the preceding centuries, in ducal charters, in treaties with cities and principalities, and in bylaws of the Antwerp aldermen as well. As a result of the more hermeneutical humanist views on law, any legal reform had to start with the effort of listing and analysing such source materials. The searching and cataloguing of texts of Antwerp municipal law from previous periods led to a collecting of official documents in series of ledgers.55 The secretary of the city of Antwerp performed the task of administering the urban archives. In the first half of the sixteenth century, the most important

51 On the homologation movement in France and the Netherlands, see John P. Dawson, “The Codification of the French Customs”, in Michigan Law Review, 38, 1940, pp. 765–800; Martine Grinberg, Écrire les coutumes. Les droits seigneuriaux en France, XVIe–XVIIe siècle, Paris, 2006; Martine Grinberg, “La rédaction des coutumes et les droits seigneuriaux. Nommer, classer, exclure”, in Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales, 52, 1997, pp. 1017–38; John Gilissen, “Les phases de la codification et de l’homologation des coutumes dans les XVII provinces des Pays-Bas”, in The Legal History Review (Tijdschrift voor rechtsgeschiedenis), 18, 1950, pp. 36–67 and pp. 239–90. 52 Hansjürgen Knoche, Ulrich Zasius und das Freiburger Stadtrecht von 1520, Karlsruhe, 1957. 53 Jan Buntinx, “Wielant, Filips”, in Nationaal biografisch woordenboek, vol. 5, Brussels, 1972, col. 1009–19. 54 See the detailed analysis in De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 73–91. 55 For example, of received letters (ACA, PK, no. 271) and of oaths of officials and public servants (ACA, PK, no. 1488).

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secretaries were the jurist Peter van Wesenbeke (1532–1547) and the humanist Cornelis De Schrijver (Grapheus) (1520–1522 and 1540–1548).56 The activities of learned civil servants of the city went way beyond administrative tasks. On important occasions, literary ambitions could be combined with official duties. Grapheus, for example, compiled a book with verse and illustrations of the 1549 Joyous Entree of Prince Philip of Habsburg and most probably wrote a petition in humanist prose for the new ruler, containing a demand for new privileges for the city of Antwerp.57 The tradition of secretaries and law clerks being jurists and intellectuals was continued in the later sixteenth and the early seventeenth centuries, when the jurist Jan Boghe (Bochius) (ob. 1609) and Jan Gaspar Gevaerts (Gevartius) (ob. 1666) were law clerks.58 The most important figure in that period was former advocate, doctor iuris utriusque and long-time secretary of the city Hendrik de Moy (ob. 1610). He was guardian of the Antwerp charters. Following the 1576 Spanish Fury of Antwerp and the burning of the Town Hall, he reconstructed the city’s archives,59 which explains his vivid interest in Antwerp’s medieval legal texts. He cited such sources very frequently, for example in his comment on the 1582 Antwerp law compilation60 and in his Tractaet der officieren, which was a volume dealing with regulations concerning public servants.61 Considering all this, it is no surprise that law clerks and secretaries were among the prime members of committees that were set up in order to write compilations of Antwerp municipal law, to be sent in for authentication by the sovereign. The 1548 collection was drawn up by the secretaries Willem van Ryt (ob. 1553), Jan van Halle (ob. 1551), and perhaps also Cornelis Grapheus.62 Other jurists were important as well. In 1570, another panel, the main member of which was the jurist Nicolaas Rockox the Elder (ob. 1577), prepared a revised version of the municipal law. He was a graduate from Orléans university and had been mayor (burgomaster-within) of the city.63 When summarising all of the above, it can be said that the Antwerp legal scenes have been academic since the later fifteenth century, and that legal humanism has

56 On Peter van Wesenbeke, see Hilde de Ridder-Symoens, “De universitaire vorming van de Brabantse stadsmagistraat en stadsfunktionarissen in Leuven en Antwerpen, 1430–1580”, in De Brabantse stad, ‘s-Hertogenbosch, 1978, p. 97. For a short biography of Cornelis Grapheus, see Joseph Roulez, “Cornelis de Schryver”, in Biographie nationale de Belgique, vol. 5, Brussels, 1876, pp. 721–26. Judging from the contents of his texts, it is not unlikely that Grapheus had had a legal training at university. 57 Dave De Ruysscher, “Lobbyen, vleien en herinneren: vergeefs onderhandelen om privileges bij de Blijde Inkomst van Filips in Antwerpen (1549)”, in Noord-Brabants Historisch Jaarboek, 29, 2012, pp. 64–79. 58 Dirk Imhoff, “Joannes Bochius (1555–1609)”, in Bio-bibliografie van Nederlandse Humanisten, Den Haag, 2009, digital edition (www.dwc.knaw.nl/bochius-joannes-1555–1609/). On Gevaerts, see Louis Roersch, “Gevaerts ( Jean-Gaspard)”, in Biographie nationale, vol. 7, Brussels, 1880–1883, col. 694–9. 59 Floris Prims & Michel Verbeeck, Het Antwerpsche Stadsarchief, Antwerp, 1941, pp. 26–7. 60 ACA, V, nos 21–23. 61 ACA, PK, nos 151–53. 62 ACA, PK, no. 271, 56 (16 May 1546). 63 ACA, V, no. 11, fol. 41r (5 May 1570).

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had influence, especially since the 1530s. This influence consisted of a new idea that the law of the city could be modelled and reshaped on the basis of an internal logic that was to be discovered through an assessment of the contents of texts stemming from different periods. The Antwerp administrators thus acquired contemporary views, as they became sensitive for the philosophy of emendatio. This did not involve a science of local law or a rigorous philological discipline, but rather a new style that was aimed at restating and systematising older legal materials. But notwithstanding these new humanist approaches, all over Northwest continental Europe, jurists continued to build on late-medieval legal literature.64 In this stage of development, the projects of the ordering and revising of legal texts did not yet result in default rules regarding contracts. Most of the municipal law concerned the enforcement of debts. Around 1550, this was changed, and late-medieval legal doctrine was used as a source also by the Antwerp administrators. 3.4. Commercial Law in Antwerp: Appropriating, Endorsing and Upgrading Mercantile Practices The phenomenon of the reception of legal academic culture and academic law must not be interpreted in antagonistic terms. The case of Antwerp in fact proves that an economic policy that was based on motives of facilitation was not only possible within but also profited from the academic settings in which it was pursued. This goes directly against the (still widespread) nineteenth-century romantic view that the growing popularity of academic solutions (Roman law) entailed the reducing of the “law of the people”. Roman law would have supported claims of the elite, and the latter would have used the learned law to strip other classes within society of their century-old privileges and customary rules.65 However, neither in the Late Middle Ages nor in the sixteenth century was the area of the law a battleground between different legal systems. This is clear in two respects. Firstly, before as well as during the sixteenth century, local law, which mostly consisted of rules that were fixed and applied by local courts, was not a collection of customs in the sense of spontaneously developed rules. Even

64 This view allows to overcome difficult theories on jurists being Italian in the courtroom and humanist in their study. See for example F. Carpintero, “‘Mos italicus’, ‘mos gallicus’ y el Humanismo racionalista. Una contribución a la historia de la metodología juridica”, in Ius Commune. Zeitschrift für europäische Rechtsgeschichte, 6, 1977, pp. 108–71. See also the older views of Victor Brants & René Dekkers, who described the teachings at the University of Louvain in the middle of the sixteenth century of such law professors as Gabriel Van der Muiden (Mudaeus) (ob. 1560) and Elbrecht De Leeuw (Leoninus) (ob. 1579) as a via media between mos italicus and mos gallicus. See Victor Brants, La Faculté de Droit de l’Université de Louvain à travers cinq siècles (Étude Historique), Brussels, s.d. (1910), pp. 110–21, and René Dekkers, Het humanisme en de rechtswetenschap in de Nederlanden (Vlaamsche rechtskundige bibliotheek, 19), Antwerp, 1938, p. 131, and pp. 142–3. 65 On this bias in historiography, consult James R. Farr, “Honor, Law, and Custom in Renaissance Europe”, in A Companion to the Worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero (Blackwell Companions to European History), Oxford, 2002, pp. 131–2 and Kelley, “Civil Science in the Renaissance”, pp. 792–3. See also footnote 3.

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though local rules were commonly defined with such terms as “consuetudines” and “costuymen”, this did not mean that they had emerged from within the community. Local law was constantly being developed by specialists. It was made concrete in judgments and was acknowledged by local rulers. Particular customs could exist outside this framework of official law. Such customs could come into existence and be practised without intervention from legal practitioners and without the approval of the municipal government. However, from recent research it is becoming evident that in late medieval and early modern Europe, customs in that latter sense were mostly of an individual nature, few in number and therefore insufficient for supporting a fully fledged system of law that was aimed at the common good.66 Solutions that were imposed as local law were often created and thus not always rooted in old ideas.67 This raises a second important point concerning the nature of law, in history as well as today, which is its nurturing through legal culture and through legal reasoning. Law in the sense of written or otherwise fixed ex ante rules provides answers for concrete situations, but it also inevitably depends on interpretation. Judges and advocates have to weigh the contents of legal texts and of precedents, which do not cover every possible situation and which can be incomplete or unclear, in order to make them fit facts. This process of interpretation facilitates innovation. It makes law change and evolve.68 Doctrine, or legal scholarship, is the most evident lifeblood for legal arguments and for innovation. It is abstract and it functions according to an internal logic, which explains its relatively free contents and continuous development. These features resulted in the appeal of legal literature, which marked a counterweight against bylaws and statutes. The latter were usually limited in scope and wording. In sixteenth-century Antwerp, this drawing on legal doctrine was most relevant. It was demonstrated above that academic law proved itself as a tool to adapt older Antwerp legal practices. 66 Conte, “Roman Law vs. Custom”, p. 38; Robert Jacob, “Beaumanoir vs. Révigny: The Two Faces of Customary Law in Philip the Bold’s France”, in Essays on the Poetic and Legal Writings of Philippe de Remy and His Son Philippe de Beaumanoir of Thirteenth-Century France, eds Sarah-Grace Heller & Michelle Reichert, Lewiston (NY), 2001, pp. 221–76; Robert Jacob, “Les coutumiers du XIIIe siècle ont-ils connu la coutume?”, in La coutume au village dans l’Europe médiévale et moderne, Toulouse, 2001, pp. 103–20. The notion of custom (consuetudo) was used for both particular customs in the abovementioned sense and also in the meaning of the general (not necessarily but often judge-made) comprehensive law that was applied within a jurisdiction. See Lloyd Bonfield, “What Did English Villagers Mean by ‘Customary Law’?”, in Medieval Society and the Manor Court, eds Zvi Razi & Richard M. Smith, Oxford, 1996, pp. 107–8; Ron Houston, “Custom in Context. Medieval and Early Modern Scotland and England”, in Past & Present, 211, 2011, pp. 39–40; David Ibbetson, “Custom in Medieval Law”, in The Nature of Customary Law. Legal, Historical and Philosophical Perspectives, eds Amanda Perreau-Saussine and James B. Murphy, Cambridge, 2007, p. 153 and pp. 162–5. 67 De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 104–11; Emily Kadens, “The Myth of the Customary Law Merchant”, in Texas Law Review, 90, 2012, pp. 1185–96. 68 Law is directive (ex ante) and flexible at the same time: judges and lawyers can draw on principles for guidance as to their concrete decisions in the absence of detailed rules in ordinances or case law. Their solutions are then a part of the law as well, even though in their detailed form they are new. See Ronald Dworkin, A Matter of Principle, Cambridge (MA), 1985; Ronald Dworkin, Law’s Empire, Cambridge (MA), 1986.

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We will discover below to what extent the Antwerp municipal law with regard to commerce that developed throughout the sixteenth century drew on practices and customs of merchants visiting or residing in the city, and whether legal pluralism existed in one way or another. Furthermore, the sources of the municipal commercial law will be analysed. 3.4.1. Municipal Law vs. Customs of Merchants in the First Half of the Sixteenth Century

In the later years of the fifteenth and the first decades of the sixteenth centuries groups of merchants arrived in Antwerp from abroad. As a result, mercantile techniques and practices that had not been applied there before spread into the Antwerp market. At the fifteenth-century fairs of Brabant, which were held at Antwerp and Bergen op Zoom, acknowledgments of debt and succinct partnership contracts were common. Agreements and certificates regarding joint ownership, deposit and agency were drawn up as well.69 In the 1520s and 1530s, new contracts and techniques, including detailed partnership contracts, marine insurance policies, double-entry bookkeeping and commission trade, came into use in Antwerp. Many of these practices had been applied in Bruges before that time and in Antwerp they gradually became more popular, after they had been known within relatively closed circles only. Marine insurance underwriting in Antwerp for example was first done exclusively by Spaniards and Italians, and only in the 1550s did merchants of other nationalities sign insurance contracts.70 Of all the mentioned techniques, double-entry bookkeeping, commission trade and bills of exchange were the most Italian: they were Italian in origin, or at least they were regarded as such.71 However, eventually these mercantile practices were shared amongst merchants of different

69 See Renée Doehaerd, Études anversoises: documents sur le commerce international à Anvers, 1488–1514, Paris, 1962–1963, 3 vols. For a detailed analysis of partnership arrangements in Antwerp certificatiën of the later fifteenth century, see Ernst Pitz, “Kapitalausstattung und Unternehmensformen in Antwerpen 1488–1514”, in Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 53, 1966, pp. 53–91. 70 Dave De Ruysscher & Jeroen Puttevils, “The Art of Compromise. Legislative Deliberations on Marine Insurance Institutions in Antwerp (c. 1550–c. 1570)”, in BMGN. Low Countries Historical Review, 130, 2015, pp. 31–4. 71 On commission trade, which in sixteenth-century Antwerp was perceived of as being Italian (see ACA, V, no. 69, fol. 51v (10 July 1566)), see Florence Edler-De Roover, “The Van der Molen, Commission Merchants of Antwerp: Trade with Italy, 1538–44”, in Medieval and historiographical essays in honour of James Westfall Thompson, eds James Lea Cate & Eugene N. Anderson, Chicago, 1938, pp. 78–145; Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, pp. 100–5. With regard to bookkeeping in sixteenth-century Antwerp, see Dave De Ruysscher, “How Normative Were Merchant Manuals? Of Customs, Practices, Techniques and … Good Advice (Antwerp 16th Century)”, in Heikki Pihlajamäki, Albrecht Cordes, Serge Dauchy & Dave De Ruysscher (eds), Understanding the Sources of Commercial Law, Leiden, Brill, 2018; Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, pp. 86–96. On the earliest bills of exchange in Antwerp, see Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, pp. 76–7.

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nationalities, and they had been applied by non-Italians in the Netherlands before the sixteenth century as well.72 The new methods of trade came together with normative ideas. Some of the mentioned techniques hinged, at least partly, on formalities that were considered crucial for their validity. These formalities were acknowledged within groups of merchants that applied the practices, and they can therefore be considered mercantile customs.73 Even though they became standardised only later, in the first years of the sixteenth century and thereafter, bills of exchange for example had to contain an order clause (pagate per me a …). It can be suspected that a written recognition of debt not mentioning this formula was not considered a bill of exchange. However, formal requirements such as this one were minimal, as were the customs relating thereto. This is particularly evident in instructional literature that was printed in Antwerp in the first half of the sixteenth century. For bills of exchange, merchant manuals refer to a minimal “style” of writing bills of exchange, but they contained most of all calculations of exchange rates and currency swaps. Such books did not usually mention default rules, or even rules or sanctions in general.74 Furthermore, for open-ended contracts such as partnership agreements and marine insurance policies, requirements were even more limited. For the most part there were no norms of merchants as to their contents. What was provided in the contract was mainly the result of negotiations between the parties to the contract. For marine insurance, one can get an idea of the relative lack of normative rules applying among merchants from a comparison of contracts and decisions with the subject of legal actions. Some insurance policies that were written in Antwerp between 1530 and 1550 have been preserved. Admittedly, they are very few (four contracts), and most of them are notarial deeds, whereas the contents of private arrangements, which were most probably made as well, are not known.75 With this caveat in mind, their appearance and contents make it nonetheless likely that detailed forms of marine insurance contracts were not yet known in Antwerp

72 This was the case for double-entry bookkeeping and bills of exchange, which had been used in Flanders since the fourteenth century. The Bruges hostellers can be considered commission agents as well. See James Murray, Bruges, Cradle of Capitalism, 1280–1390, Cambridge, 2005, p. 202. 73 A practice refers to repeated actions or shared opinions, for example mentioned in a contract. A custom regards practices that are deemed constraints, the breach of which is sanctioned in one way or another. This difference corresponds with the contemporary, sixteenth-century, distinction between usus (practice) and consuetudo (custom). See Siegfried Brie, Die Lehre vom Gewohnheitsrecht. Eine historisch-dogmatische Untersuchung, Wroclaw, 1899, pp. 104–18 and pp. 141–56. 74 In a 1543 manual, Jan Ympyn Christoffel for example detailed the difference between regular, dry and fictitious bills of exchange, but was not explicit as to what extent the latter varieties were lawful. See Jan Ympyn Christoffel, Nieuwe instructie, fol. 13v–fol. 15v. Other manuals contained instructions on the writing of bills of exchange. See Gabriel Meurier, Formulaire de missives, obligations, quittances, letters de change, d’asseurances …, Antwerp, 1558, fol. 18v–19r. See, for an appraisal of the legal contents of Antwerp mercantile tracts, De Ruysscher, “How Normative Were Merchant Manuals?”. 75 They are analysed in detail in Henry L. V. De Groote, De zeeassurantie te Antwerpen en te Brugge in de zestiende eeuw, Antwerp, 1975, pp. 96–125.

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in this period, even though they had been applied elsewhere since the 1510s.76 The wording of the contracts, which was in different languages (French, High German, Spanish), was not identical, even when the contents were sometimes comparable. In the preserved notarial deeds some similarities in provisions can be found, for example with regard to the risks (“until the safe unloading of the merchandise”, the definition of risks was general, of the seas and men)77 or the route (all policies contained a “liberty clause”, which allowed all ports of choice to be touched during the voyage).78 These provisions corresponded to a typical policy, which was commonly chosen. The contents of insurance contracts converged to a modest extent and were based on a Florentine example.79 However, the use of a typical policy was not imposed or deemed obligatory in the merchant community. Moreover, there were differences with regard to other conditions of the insurance. Some insurance contracts insured against misconduct and damage caused by the captain and his crew (i.e. barratry), whereas others did not mention this as a peril.80 In some insurance policies, the value that was insured was defined as limited, but percentages differed (90 or 50%).81 Some of the contracts provided that the costs of the sale of the insured merchandise were insured as well, whereas others did not.82 At least some of these differences might reflect variable views of groups or nations of merchants as to lawful and compulsory insurance terms.83 The merchants subscribing to insurance contracts or the notaries who drew up the deeds of contract referred to “customs” supplementing the provisions of the contract. Most marine insurance contracts that were drafted at Antwerp referred to both the customs of the Antwerp Bourse and the “customs of (the Strada of ) London” or “customs of Lombard Street”.84 It is likely that this concerned the mentioned Florentine style of formulating perils, which had also been in use in Bruges, and some basic rules that applied in either place, rather than standards or default rules to be applied to the contents of contracts.85 For the most part, when used in Antwerp the label of “customs” pointed to a restricted number of procedural rules and terms of payment that were imposed 76 In Burgos, in 1514 a policy form was imposed, and in Florence, a standard policy applied since 1523. See Johan P. van Niekerk, The Development of the Principles of Insurance Law in the Netherlands from 1500 to 1800, Kenwyn, 1998, vol. 1, p. 486. 77 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, p. 100, pp. 107–8. 78 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, p. 106. 79 Dave De Ruysscher, “Belgium. Marine insurance”, in Ph. Hellwege (ed.), A Comparative History of Insurance Law in Europe. A Research Agenda (Comparative Studies in the History of Insurance Law), Berlin, 2018, vol. 1, p. 115, pp. 117–8. 80 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, pp. 107–8. 81 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, p. 120. 82 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, p. 120. 83 See on barratry, and differences of opinion among merchants of different regions relating thereto, Guido Rossi, Insurance in Elisabethan England: The London Code, Cambridge, 2016, pp. 173–6. 84 Dave De Ruysscher, “Antwerp 1490–1590: Insurance and Speculation”, in Marine Insurance. Origins and Institutions, 1300–1850, ed. Adrian B. Leonard, London, 2016, pp. 86–7. 85 De Ruysscher, “Belgium: Marine Insurance”, p. 118. See in this regard also – the somewhat different view of – Rossi, Insurance in Elisabethan England, p. 150, footnote 47.

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by the Antwerp Municipal Court. An analysis of the deeds of judgment of the Antwerp Municipal Court of the period between 1488 and 1550, which contained the arguments made in court, yielded only ten adduced customs relating to mercantile contracts and situations. Nearly all of the customs referred to dealt with marine insurance.86 The earlier mentioned insurance policies of the 1530s and 1540s commonly contained the promise of the underwriters to pay out when no news had been heard after a year.87 In 1544, this was in a legal action referred to as a “usage and custom of the (Antwerp) Exchange” supplemented a contract.88 This early reference to “customs of the Exchange”, which remained exceptional until the 1550s, concerned in particular the prescribed period of one year. Similar links to concrete delays can be seen in some references to other customs. When an underwriter was notified of the loss of insured merchandise, he was required to pay within two months. In a 1537 petition to the Emperor, the Antwerp aldermen labelled this principle a rule, being of “old law”, by which municipal law was meant.89 In some preserved insurance policies of the 1530s, the underwriters promised compensation within two months after the notification of shipwreck or losses at sea.90 When a 1537 princely ordinance imposed this term of two months, parties at trials started referring to this law; references to a custom disappeared after May 1537, when the mentioned princely bylaw came into force.91 Another custom concerned an issue that was frequently raised in the Antwerp courtroom, which was the nullity of the contract because of belated insurance. A consilium of the Leuven law professor Elbrecht De Leeuw (Leoninus), most probably of 1540, mentioned the rule that an insurance agreement remained valid when it appeared later that damage to the insured object had occurred before the contract had been signed, but only if the news of the damage could not have reached Antwerp before the signing of the contract. The norm was described as a local consuetudo of Antwerp, thus pertaining to the municipal (unwritten) law, and as well known among merchants and seamen in the city.92 Arguments that were written in a deed of judgment of the Antwerp Municipal

86 The following deeds contained references to customs regarding sea law (general average): ACA, V, 1241, fol. 103v–104r (16 July 1547), fol. 283r-v (8 March 1548 ns), 1244, fol. 60v–61r (24 December 1555), fol. 126v–127v (12 March 1556 ns). On the lawfulness of insurance after loss: ACA, V, 1241, fol. 48v–49v (7 May 1547), 1242, fol. 50v–52r (10 April 1548 ns) and 1238, fol. 62r (17 September 1543). The reference to another customs, dating from April 1548, is mentioned hereafter. 87 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, pp. 112–3. 88 ACA, V, no. 1239, fol. 117v and fol. 138v (19 July 1544). 89 Oskar De Smedt, “De keizerlijke verordeningen van 1537 en 1539 op de obligaties en wisselbrieven. Eenige kantteekeningen”, in Nederlandsche Historiebladen, 3, 1940, p. 19. 90 De Groote, De zeeassurantie, p. 111. 91 For the law, see Recueil des Ordonnances des Pays-Bas, 2nd series, vol. 4, Brussels, 1907, pp. 34–5 (25 May 1537). An example of a reference to the “ordinance of the emperor” is ACA, V, no. 1237, fol. 23v–24v (31 October 1542). 92 Elbrecht De Leeuw (Leoninus), Centuria consiliorum …, Arnhem, 1645, pp. 250–1 (cons. 22, nos 5–6). See also Alain Wijffels, “Business Relations Between Merchants in Sixteenth-Century Belgian Practice-Orientated Civil Law Literature”, in From lex mercatoria to commercial law, ed. Vito Piergiovanni (Comparative Studies in Continental and Anglo-American Legal History, 24), Berlin, 2004, pp. 256–9.

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Court dating from 1543 label this same rule as “a custom of merchants”.93 In a case of 1547, the advocate of the insured defined the mentioned norm on late insurance as a “common usance and custom that was held in affairs of insurance, which was notorious and public”.94 A rule that was closely linked to belated insurance stated that when an insurance contract had been signed but had no object, the premium had to be returned. In 1548, an advocate of an insured defined this rule as a “custom and usage here at the Exchange among merchants”.95 From all these descriptions, it appears that the references to customs of the Exchange comprised very specific rules that concerned procedural delays after which compensation could be demanded from insurance underwriters before the Antwerp Municipal Court. It is likely that in the first half of the 1500s in Antwerp references to “customs of merchants” and the like for marine insurance mostly described local law that was known and used by merchants and which could also be confirmed in princely legislation. There is no evidence that many “customs of merchants” or “customs of the Exchange” existed beyond the reach of the Antwerp Court. It should also be noted that the “customs” only allowed for the resolution of a limited number of disputes and that there is no trace of customs that concerned clauses regarding risks for example. Provisions that were often inserted into insurance policies (for example, the generalised risks of the seas and men) were practices rather than customs. There is no evidence that in the first half of the sixteenth century the Florentine way of phrasing risks in marine insurance policies was compulsory, or considered as standard, in one way or another. By contrast, the procedural rules of the municipal law were regarded by merchants as “their law”. In this first period until the middle of the sixteenth century, a virtual identity between Antwerp municipal law and mercantile customs had little to do with the permissive attitudes of the Antwerp leaders and judges. It was not because the Antwerp aldermen supported mercantile practice – which they did – that few customs of merchants developed. Instead, the minimal importance of normative ideas surrounding business followed on from a mentality of “facts and figures”, which meant that merchants themselves paid little attention to the legal phrasing and explanation of their agreements and commercial relationships. Quite remarkably, in the first half of the sixteenth century, the academic jurists of the Antwerp Municipal Court largely followed the same philosophy. They continued the fifteenth-century ideal of the “reading judge” who did not enter into the contract between the parties at the trial. Contracts and promises were stamped and executed, and not tested. Antwerp judges, but also the advocates that pleaded before them, generally refrained from imposing default rules onto agreements that proved incomplete or unclear. Instead, the court commonly ordered the inspection of books or accounts by arbiters, who were often merchants, and to whom the order was given to try to reconcile the parties and

93 ACA, V, no. 1238, fol. 62r (17 September 1543). 94 ACA, V, no. 1241, fol. 48v (7 May 1547). 95 ACA, V, no. 1242, fol. 50v–52r (10 April 1548 ns).

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reach a compromise.96 These arbiters did not apply customs of merchants, not only because the latter were very few, and if existing, too crude to settle legal questions, but also because the Antwerp aldermen prohibited the appointed arbiters from deciding and interpreting points of law.97 If efforts of mediation failed, the judges could require one of the litigants to swear on oath his good faith, thus deciding the case.98 Resuming all of the above, my argument on the blend of commercial practices and academic law in the Antwerp municipal law throughout the sixteenth century differs somewhat from the positions of other scholars. Oscar Gelderblom and Jeroen Puttevils have emphasised the functionality and permeability of Antwerp municipal law and its adaptive and adopting features towards the customs and practices of merchants.99 Gelderblom has contended that urban magistrates, including those in Antwerp, had profound knowledge of the customs, techniques and practices of international trade. Gelderblom underlined that city administrators sensed which (corroborating and additional) measures of support and facilitation would bring about an optimal private-public heterogeneity of norms and proceedings in order to sustain growth, even in the long term.100 By contrast, Bram Van Hofstraeten has criticised the facilitating effect of the Antwerp municipal law. He mentions differences between mercantile practice and an “intellectual” municipal law as found in the compilations that were issued by the Antwerp aldermen.101 Van Hofstraeten has described the reception in Antwerp municipal law of mercantile practices regarding partnerships as untimely and haphazard.102 As well as Van Hofstraeten, Gelderblom contrasts municipal law with Roman 96 AVA, V, no. 1233, fol. 170v (8 October 1507), no. 1237, fol. 146r (13 March 1543), no. 1237, fol. 23v–24r (31 October 1542), and no. 1238, fol. 24r (2 August 1543). This policy of the Municipal Court was also applied in lawsuits that did not concern mercantile debts or merchants. See, for example, ACA, V, no. 1238, fol. 1r (2 June 1542). Another example which relates to accounts of guardians is ACA, V, no. 1239, fol. 59v–60r (2 May 1544). See on the referal to arbiters, also, Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, p. 139. 97 The report of the arbiters was described as an advice. See ACA, V, no. 1235, fol. 202v (22 October 1519) and V, no. 1233, fol. 110r (27 June 1506). The common formula in the order to the arbiters stated that they were to reach a compromise, “the law excluded” (“totten rechten excluys”). 98 For an example of an oath waged by a defendant, who claimed that the debt had been paid, see ACA, V, no. 1231, fol. 121v (14 June 1490). If the defendant denied that he had entered into an (unwritten) agreement, an oath could be imposed onto him as well. See, for example, ACA, V, no. 1233, fol. 168v and no. 1237, fol. 21r–22r (24 October 1542). This type of oath was a purgatory oath. 99 Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, pp. 201–2; Jeroen Puttevils, Merchants and Trading in the Sixteenth Century. The Golden Age of Antwerp,London, 2015, pp. 106–7. 100 Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, pp. 12–3, 201–03; O. Gelderblom, “Thinking About Cities of Commerce. A Rejoinder”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale en economische geschiedenis, 11/4, 2014, p. 126 and p. 130. 101 Bram Van Hofstraeten, “The Organization of Mercantile Capitalism in the Low Countries: Private Partnerships in Early Modern Antwerp (1480–1620)”, in Tijdschrift voor Sociale en Economische Geschiedenis, 13/2, 2016, p. 6 and p. 24. 102 Bram Van Hofstraeten, “Antwerp Company Law Around 1600 and its Italian Origins”, in Companies and Company Law in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds Bram Van Hofstraeten & Wim Decock (Iuris Scripta Historica, 29), Louvain, 2016, p. 52; Bram Van Hofstraeten, “Jurisdictional Complexity in Antwerp Company Law (1480–1620)”, in The Law’s Many Bodies, Studies in Legal Hybridity and Jurisdictional Complexity c1600–1900, eds Sean Donlan & Dirk Heirbaut, Berlin, 2015, pp. 79–80.

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law. According to Gelderblom, the latter was more out of touch with trade than the former, even though he acknowledges that municipal administrators could select appropriate solutions also from within Roman law.103 In contrast to all mentioned scholars, I argue that separating Antwerp municipal law from academic frameworks is artificial. It was the concepts and terminology of academic law in particular that proved important for the phrasing of municipal rules on commercial situations and contracts, even when mercantile practices served as an example. But because the customs and views of merchants with regard to possible solutions concerning their contracts were limited,104 both in scope and quality, the Antwerp leaders had most of the agency for setting the normative framework. As a result, they often hesitated about which option to take, and legislation was often haphazard.105 Not surprisingly, a deliberate standstill was a normal response as well. A late formulation of Antwerp municipal rules on the contents of mercantile contracts was due to path dependency, residing in the long-held conviction of the Antwerp aldermen that municipal and other rules should not interfere with the contents of agreements. Moreover, the late and hesitant crafting of municipal rules of contract does not attest to a divide between jurists and merchants. In Antwerp, both shared ideas as to how the Municipal Court should tackle questions on mercantile contracts, and as to the relationship between law and contract. Neither adjudication within nations of merchants nor resorting to mediation by arbiters was concerned with the enforcing of sets of rules of contracts crafted by merchants, or with the imposing of the law of the foreign merchants’ place of origin in this regard. Arbiters were forbidden to settle legal questions. Also within nations, it seems that the “facts and figures” approach prevailed.106 Yet, these views changed around mid-century. Merchants 103 Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, p. 99, pp. 102–3. 104 Opinions as to the function of turbe inquiries, and the contents of the statements produced at the occasion of such turben, are equally divergent. Gelderblom and Van Hofstraeten consider them a reflection of mercantile practice, even if jurists participated in the turben. See Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, p. 70, p. 135; Van Hofstraeten, “Antwerp Company Law”, p. 37. Elsewhere I have stressed that statements registered in the turbenboecken were reflecting accepted municipal law and that statements drawn up exclusively by merchants were very rare. If they were made, they referred commonly not to merchant customs alone, but also to the “law of the city”. See De Ruysscher, “From Usages of Merchants”, p. 17. 105 Dave De Ruysscher, “Debt and Debt Adjustment: Assessing Institutional Change in Antwerp (c. 1490–c. 1560)”, unpublished working paper, www.vub.ac.be/CORE/wp. 106 One would expect customs of merchants regarding the contents of contracts – at least when they deviated from the municipal law – to be mentioned in charters granted to nations of merchants before the middle of the sixteenth century. Such rules cannot be found in the 1511 charter for the Portuguese, or in the 1518 privilege for the English Merchant Adventurers. In the extant documentation that was produced during the long negotiations on the transfer of the Hanseatic Kontor from Bruges to Antwerp, dating of between 1546 and 1563, no such norms were mentioned either. See ACA, PK, no. 80, PK, fol. 273 r (1 June 1518), no. 1063/7 (c. 1546), no. 1063/13 (10 February 1546 ns), no. 1063/23 (24 October 1563), no. 1063/24 (24 October 1563), and no. 1070, fol. 61r–63r (20 November 1511). Evidence of the adjudication practice within the Antwerp nations of the first half of the sixteenth century is sparse. But some verdicts of nations mentioned in the ledgers of the Antwerp Municipal Court do not refer to rules of contract as imposed within the nations. See

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complaining about fraud convinced the Antwerp aldermen to pursue a more detailed policy with regard to mercantile contracts. Providing legal certainty was the policy consideration that set in motion the drafting of more extensive laws. The direction into which the municipal law evolved was not enshrined within the market, which is what Oscar Gelderblom suggests. Rather, there were many equally valuable and consistent alternatives, thus explaining fundamental differences in legislative tactics among – equally successful – trading cities of the later Middle Ages and early modern period.107 Magistrates were no less bounded in their capacity to predict long-term growth than merchants were themselves. But, this notwithstanding, each of the possible paths, when chosen, and the solutions that were related to them could profit from the terminological, conceptual and theoretical wealth of legal academic literature, as was indeed the case in Antwerp. The academic procedural rules did not oppose a further passive attitude towards the contents of contracts. Yet, they helped to lift earlier restrictions on the evidential value of documents. The Romano-canonical procedural rules allowed witnesses to give evidence of unwritten agreements and promises. There are strong indications that already early in the sixteenth century, account books and contracts of all types (private, notarial), maybe even letters as well, could be submitted as evidence in the Antwerp Municipal Court.108 Academic restrictions as to their evidential value could easily be remedied with a complementary oath.109 Merchants did not gain access to the municipal government and positions of judge in the Antwerp Municipal Court, because patrician

Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, p. 144. Moreover, some statutes of nations have been preserved, and they do not contain rules of contract law: Walter Evers, Das hansische Kontor in Antwerpen, Kiel, 1915 (extant on the contents of the 1569 and 1578 statutes); William E. Lingelbach, The Merchant Adventurers of England, their Laws and Ordinances, Philadelphia, 1902 (contains the laws for the Company of Merchant Adventurers up to the 1660s). 107 De Ruysscher, “Debt and Debt Adjustment”; Jeroen Puttevils, Peter Stabel & Botho Verbist, “Een eenduidig pad van modernisering van het handelsverkeer: van het liberale Brugge naar het gereguleerde Antwerpen?”, in Overheid en economie: geschiedenissen van een spanningsveld, eds Bruno Blondé et al, Antwerp, 2014, pp. 39–54. 108 An early reference to books kept by the defendant is ACA, V, no. 1231, fol. 129v–130v (26 July 1491). The registered deeds of civil judgments of the Antwerp Municipal Court, for the later years of the fifteenth and for the first years of the sixteenth century, teem with mentions of submitted private acknowledgments of debt. See, for example, ACA, V, no. 1232, fol. 323r (October 1502). See also footnote 23. As for private letters, there are – to my knowledge – no examples of before 1550 of Antwerp court trials during which they were produced as evidence. See, for an example of 1554, Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, p. 88. Some authors have nonetheless claimed that in Antwerp commission trade hinged on private merchants’ letters that according to Antwerp law were accepted as evidence. See Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, pp. 79–83, p. 97; Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, p. 101. 109 Some deeds of judgment point to oaths that were granted in supplementum probationis, i.e. for compensating the limited evidential value of writings and assertions. See, for example, ACA, V, no. 1231, fol. 129v–130v (26 July 1491). For academic doctrine regarding evidence, see Jean-Philippe Levy, La hierarchie des preuves dans le droit savant du Moyen Âge depuis la renaissance du droit romain jusqu’à la fin du XlVe siècle, Paris, 1939. A 1515 Antwerp ordinance had confirmed the limited evidential value of many notarial deeds, but they could be supplemented with an oath. See ACA, PK, no. 914, fol. 69r (24 November 1515).

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families remained monopolistic in this respect,110 but apparently they did not need formal participation in order to gain the aldermen’s support. To the abovementioned examples of academically supported changes in expropriation and bearer notes one can add a change in municipal law concerning the transfer of ownership rights, which was closely related to the enforcement of contracts of sale. In the fifteenth century, the (unwritten) Antwerp municipal law had provided that “delivery conveys ownership”. Around 1500, this was changed to the rule “only payment conveys ownership”. Only when the seller had explicitly granted credit by stating a date at which the price had to be paid was ownership ceded to the buyer on delivery before payment.111 Under the older regime, delivery without payment granted ownership to the buyer, except when it was agreed otherwise.112 The new solution was easier to link to academic legal literature,113 which allowed for legal reasoning in complex cases on the basis of that doctrine. For merchants either solution was acceptable. What mattered to them was that the applicable rule was fixed, and that they could adjust their contracts if they did not want to apply it. The municipal rule thus served as standard, as supplementary law, in case the agreement of sale had not provided a solution. 3.4.2. Towards a Written Antwerp Law on Mercantile Contracts (c. 1550–c. 1610)

From the middle of the sixteenth century onwards, the municipal law of Antwerp became written down and systematised in structured compilations. Starting in 1531, at regular intervals, the princely government ordered that private-law rules that applied in local jurisdictions of the Netherlands were committed to writing. Compilations were to be handed in at the nearby princely court, which for Antwerp was the Council of Brabant, and following an analysis of their contents they could become promulgated in the form of a princely ordinance as the law of the locality.114 In Antwerp, as well as in many other localities, early decrees were ignored. Some law fragments were put together in the abovementioned Golden Book, but the latter was not presented to the princely authorities.115 In the early 1540s a new compilation of Antwerp municipal rules was drawn up, containing some 300 articles, but again it was not submitted for

110 On this issue, see chapter 2 by Jeroen Puttevils in this volume. 111 ACA, V, no. 1233, fol. 11v (30 June 1503) and no. 1235, fol. 265v (10 July 1520). See also, but less clear in this regard ACA, V, no. 69, fol. 10r–11v (4 May 1542). 112 De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, p. 140 (Golden Book, c. 1511–c. 1528, s.77). The rule of “payment conveys ownership” was mentioned in the 1608 law book: Antwerp 1608 Law, vol. 2, pp. 326–28 (part 3, ch. 3, s. 13). 113 R. Feenstra, “Eigentumsvorbehalt und die Regel von Inst. 2,1,41 über das Verhaltnis von Kaufpreiszahlung und Eigentumsübertragung”, in The Legal History Review (Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis), 58/1, 1990, pp. 133–42. 114 John Gilissen, “La rédaction des coutumes en Belgique au XVIe et XVIIe siècles”, in La rédaction des coutumes dans le passé et le présent, ed. John Gilissen, Brussels, 1962, pp. 98–102; Gilissen, “Les phases”. 115 De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 87–91.

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princely approval.116 In 1546, a reminder was sent to the Antwerp aldermen and, as a result, in 1548 a compilation of Antwerp rules was sent in. Even though its authors had sought to “emend” the Antwerp rules, this collection was of poor quality and contained almost no sections regarding mercantile contracts, which was due to the lasting attitudes of Antwerp judges towards the contents of such agreements. For reasons unknown, it never obtained princely approval. In 1559, a new princely order warned that norms of municipal law should be reduced to writing. For the Antwerp aldermen, this was probably the signal to withdraw the 1548 compilation. In Brabant, at that time almost no collections of municipal law had yet been ratified because the Council of Brabant had been negligent in examining the few cahiers that had been submitted. New local compilations were drafted following severe injunctions issued by Governor-general Alva in 1570. Together with many other local courts, in July 1570 Antwerp produced its revised version, which had been assembled by a committee of jurists and practitioners.117 The 1570 compilation contained new chapters on merchants’ matters, such as marine insurance and bankruptcy, but they were brief and their sections were mostly based upon princely legislation and upon older Antwerp bylaws. A paragraph on bills of exchange rephrased academic legal opinions concerning that type of arrangement.118 All in all, these compilations corroborated the earlier municipal law as it had been developed earlier in the cooperations between merchants and the Antwerp aldermen-judges. A brief intermezzo of contention, in marine insurance, which in 1557 started because of strict proposals of marine insurance registration by Giovanni Battista Ferrufini, was quickly ended because the Antwerp aldermen advocated for their earlier municipal rules. By 1571 they obtained princely approval for that.119 The contention of the 1550s had followed after a rise in marine insurance cases before the Antwerp Municipal Court that had started in 1548. In those cases insurance underwriters attempted to renege on their obligations. As a result, merchants looked to the sovereign and the Antwerp aldermen to bring order, even though they wanted to have their say on the contents of new legislation as well. Following the demands of merchants, the princely administration thereupon ventured into legislating also on the contents of marine insurance contracts.120 Around the same time associates in partnerships were accused of fraudulent behaviour and an interest in monopolies sparked legislation as

116 De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 95–99. 117 For details on the writing of the 1548 and 1570 law books, see De Ruysscher, “De ontwikkeling van het Antwerpse privaatrecht”, pp. 99–104; De Ruysscher, “Naer het Romeinsch recht”, pp. 51–8; Marcel Gotzen, “De costumiere bronnen voor de studie van het oud-Antwerpsch burgerlijk recht”, in Rechtskundig Tijdschrift voor België, 39, 1949, pp. 11–15; Fred Stevens, Revolutie en notariaat. Antwerpen 1794–1814 (Brabantse rechtshistorische reeks, 8), Assen, 1994, pp. 21–24. 118 Coutumes de la ville d’Anvers, ed. Guillaume De Longé (Coutumes du pays et duché de Brabant. Quartier d’Anvers), vol. 1, Brussels, 1871, pp. 530–36 (bankruptcy), p. 598 (bills of exchange), and pp. 598–604 (marine insurance). 119 De Ruysscher & Puttevils, “The Art of Compromise”, pp. 37–46. 120 De Ruysscher & Puttevils, “The Art of Compromise”, pp. 34–35.

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well.121 Newly adopted attitudes of the Antwerp aldermen concerning the city’s municipal law are evident in a 1554 statement of theirs in which they – for the first time – formulated some rules on terms in partnership contracts.122 In 1578, the Antwerp aldermen decided to issue a new law compilation, acting this time on their own initiative.123 The new text, which was printed in the last months of 1582, became the standard Antwerp law. It contained a new chapter on partnership (company), and many new articles relating to other commercial issues such as bankruptcy.124 The 1582 compilation was the first to list rules concerning the most important contracts of trade. However, when it was published, Antwerp’s Golden Age had already come to an end, even though the city maintained a respectable position as an international financial and insurance centre well into the seventeenth century.125 Because a Calvinist-orientated Antwerp government had issued the 1582 text, in May 1586 the new and now Catholic Antwerp board of aldermen prohibited the use of this version, and ordered another committee of jurists to draw up a new compilation of Antwerp law.126 Discrepancies between provisions of contract and the contents of the 1582 compilation, in matters of partnerships, have been identified as opposition between mercantile practice and municipal law.127 However, these differences were more due to the freedom to contract than to an estranged policy of the Antwerp administrators. The sections on partnerships in the 1582 collection were supplementary law, which could lawfully be changed in contracts. They demonstrate the same blend of mercantile-academic solutions that was typical of the Antwerp legislative methods. Yet, also, the 1582 compilation for the first time provided elaborate rules on the contents of mercantile contracts. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the alliance between merchants and policy makers changed. In 1608, a municipal law text of gigantic proportions was finished, but as regards its sections on mercantile contracts it was finicky and harsher than the earlier collections. The 1608 law book contained 3643 articles, distributed over seven parts and eighty-one paragraphs. Provisions on commercial law comprised nearly one third of the total, i.e. 1124 articles in 121 Hugo Soly, “Economische vernieuwing en sociale weerstand. De betekenis en aspiraties der Antwerpse middenklasse in de 16de eeuw”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 83, 1970, pp. 520–35, p. 522, and p. 530. Princely laws regarding investments without risk and monopoly were made in 1540 and 1550. See Recueil des Ordonnances des Pays-Bas, vol. 4, p. 235 (4 October 1540); ACA, PK, 479, no. 25 (15 February 1550 ns). 122 ACA, V, 68, fol. 159r (c. 1554). 123 ACA, PK, no. 552, fol. 204r (18 July 1578). 124 Antwerp 1582 Law, pp. 392–96 (company) and pp. 538–56 (bankruptcy). 125 Roland Baetens, De nazomer van Antwerpens welvaart. De diaspora en het handelshuis De Groote tijdens de eerste helft der 17de eeuw, vol. 1, Brussels, 1976, pp. 243–59 and pp. 264–68. On marine insurance in seventeenth-century Antwerp, see: Dave De Ruysscher, “Normative Hybridity in Antwerp Marine Insurance (c. 1650–c. 1700)”, in The Law’s Many Bodies. Studies in legal hybridity and jurisdictional complexity c1600–1900, eds Sean Donlan & Dirk Heirbaut (Comparative Studies in Continental and Anglo-American Legal History, 32), Berlin, 2015, pp. 145–68. 126 ACA, PK, no. 558, fol. 112v (30 May 1586). 127 Van Hofstraeten, “Company Law”, p. 52; Van Hofstraeten, “Jurisdictional Complexity”, pp. 79–80.

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eighteen chapters, which contrasted with the 111 articles regarding corresponding matters in the 1582 law book. Shortly after the submission of the 1608 compilation to the Council of Brabant, the Antwerp aldermen advocated provisional approval and publication of the part on commercial law, which was granted in February 1609.128 Although in March 1609 the Antwerp aldermen publicly imposed the commercial chapters to be used in the court,129 the new compilation never gained much popularity. For nearly all commercial and also other topics, the 1582 compilation was the most used after 1586 and even after 1609. The reason for this was mainly that the new solutions contained within the 1608 law book were often contrary to older court practice and unwieldy for mercantile contracts. This followed from a stricter policy that identified Antwerp’s waning commercial attraction with problems and deceitful behaviour in the market. The 1608 compilers, for example, insisted on compulsory clauses to be inserted into insurance contracts and even required litigating purchasers of insurance to draw up a declaration of good intent. Fraud was thus presumed.130 Such rules were not accepted among merchants, and the Antwerp government ultimately had to acknowledge that the 1582 law book had remained the prevalent compilation of Antwerp law. After 1633, the aldermen no longer insisted on formal princely approval of the 1608 text.131 When after 1650, the 1608 collection gained new attention in marine insurance litigation, the Antwerp aldermen-judges resorted to the older rules of municipal law.132 There were concomitant reasons for why around 1550 the Antwerp aldermen started crafting municipal rules regarding the contents of mercantile contracts. First, by the second half of the sixteenth century, the coalition between the municipal government and the community of foreign merchants had become very strong, and this also concerned legal matters. From the later fifteenth century onwards, the Antwerp Municipal Court had attracted more and more mercantile cases.133 This followed on from an integration of the market, which saw more and more contracts between merchants that did not belong to the same nation. Between compatriots, the leaders of nations could mediate, but when outsiders were involved, only the court of the locality was competent. This success of the Antwerp Municipal Court went together with a new tendency of the Antwerp and princely lawmakers to consult merchants on drafts of legislation.134 Second, 128 129 130 131

ACA, V no. 64. ACA, V, no. 55. Antwerp 1608 Law, vol. 2, p. 310 (part 4, ch. 11, s. 266). A last attempt was made in the early 1630s, but in December 1633 the efforts stopped. See ACA, PK, no. 579, fol. 22v (14 July 1633), fol. 23r (23 July 1633), and fol. 25r (9 August 1633). 132 De Ruysscher, “Normative Hybridity”, pp. 154–67. 133 Puttevils, Merchants and Trading, pp. 141–2. 134 See for example General Archives of the Realm in Brussels, Papiers d’État et de l’Audience, no. 1635/1, letter of 14 October 1553 (referring to a consultation of Lazarus Tucher on the effects of the postponement of payments at the Antwerp fairs); De Ruysscher & Puttevils, “The Art of Compromise”, p. 41, footnote 48; Louis Sicking, “Stratégies de réduction de risque dans le transport maritime des Pays-Bas au XVIe siècle”, in Ricchezza del mare, ricchezza dal mare, secc. XIII–XVIII, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi, Prato, 2006, pp. 797–8.

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the impulses provided by the homologation efforts of the princely government triggered concerns among the Antwerp administrators over the contents of their municipal law. Underlying this was the exhaustive ambition of jurists to capture any reality in legal terms. Third, apart from the mentioned deeper causes, the shocks resulting from legal uncertainty in the marine insurance market and regarding company contracts were important. They provided the spark that set off the new policy of the Antwerp administrators. However, notwithstanding new ambitions, it seems that the Antwerp aldermen and also the princely legislator remained very cautious when crafting rules of law. They consistently assessed what consequences a measure could have for the Antwerp market. When forging solutions that had been made necessary by the use of mercantile contracts in the city, the Antwerp aldermen often started from merchants’ practices and insights. They were instructive, but too superficial, and as a result they were expanded by means of the academic law that the administrators had studied at university. The affinity of the Antwerp rulers with learned legal literature marked the outcome of this process of appropriation. Mercantile techniques and practices provided the raw materials for municipal law, which in its concrete form had the required sophistication for solving real and often complex problems. In the 1560s, 1570s and 1580s, sometimes it was merchants who were invited to formulate rules at turben inquiries, but in their registered and elaborated form these rules bore the traces of juristic adaptation.135 The academic embedding of mercantile practices allowed for quick acknowledgments of new techniques. The indorsed bill of exchange is a case in point. In the 1620s and 1630s, indorsement became a mainstream commercial practice in Antwerp, also because of an innovative and facilitating interpretation of certain sections of the city’s law books. In those years, it became gradually acknowledged that one could pay for a bill of exchange and collect the sums due, even as buyer of the bill. Although the academic law of the early seventeenth century still mainly focused on a bipartite conception of a bill of exchange as proof of a loan between the lender and the drawer, which actually excluded transfers of bills of exchange, new views quickly became popular in the Antwerp Municipal Court. A 1630 declaration of the Antwerp government in Latin, which teemed with academic terminology, formally recognised indorsement of bills of exchange as sound according to Antwerp law.136 It was the concept of procurator in rem suam, which had been mentioned in the 1582 sections regarding bills of exchange that helped promote the holder of an indorsed bill of exchange to an autonomous party by law.137 This was thus another example of how academic law ensured a 135 ACA, V, no. 69, fol. 18r (29 May 1571), no. 69, fol. 51v (10 July 1566), and fol. 208r (7 June 1582). 136 ACA, V, no. 70, fol. 41r (9 July 1630). “… acceptator alicuius cambii scedulae … obligatus solvere … ipsi, qui est et ulterius inventus fuerit, die solutionis habere actionem, et nominatus esse ad recipiendum per nominatione prima aut procurationem, aut per inscriptionem in dorso eiusdem scedulae, illius qui invenitur habere potestatem recipiendi, aut committendi …”. 137 For a full version of this argument, see Dave De Ruysscher, “L’acculturation juridique des coutumes commerciales à Anvers. L’exemple de la lettre de change (XVIe–XVIIe siècle)”, in L’acculturation juridique. Actes des journées de la Société d’Histoire du Droit (Iuris Scripta Historica, 25), eds Fred Stevens & Laurent Waelkens, Leuven, 2011, pp. 151–60.

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new and facilitating legal appreciation by the Antwerp aldermen starting from the basic materials of commercial practice. The academic law regarding mercantile contracts that served as a platform for the integration of usages of trade in the Antwerp 1582 and 1608 law books can be dated. It seems that the compilers did not much use contemporary treatises, not even those of legal humanists, but relied more on late-medieval Italian literature. This is evident, for example, in some legal precepts surrounding the contract of sale. A late-medieval idea regarding the protection of supposedly weaker parties was that of the “just price”, which was based on the opinion that for every type of merchandise there existed one ideal price. Derogations from this price were to be sanctioned if they transgressed certain limits. In that case, the sale was deemed null and void. In the later Middle Ages, this theory had been formulated by canonists and theologians and had also been present in legal literature that was based on Roman law. By the middle of the seventeenth century, the scope of this arrangement had become more limited. According to late-medieval canon law, both the buyer and the seller could bring an action suit following infringements regarding the just price, and for all contracts. By 1650, however, this had become only an option for the seller of immovable property, and on the condition that he proved fraud of the buyer or that he himself had erred.138 The latter solution, which had first been set forth in legal-humanist Romanist writings of the 1560s and 1570s, was not inserted into the 1582 and 1608 costuymen. Instead, they contained rules on the old broad “just price”.139 It seems that, even though the Antwerp administrators pursued a humanist emendatio when recasting their municipal law, their sources were in the Italian scholastic style and dating from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.140 This can be explained by the rather conservative training Antwerp jurists had had, at

138 Reinhard Zimmermann, The Law of Obligations. Roman Foundations of the Civilian Tradition, Cape Town, 1990, pp. 259–70. For the development of the scholastic idea of the “just price” in doctrine and in urban Brabant in the late Middle Ages, see Raoul De Kerf, De juiste prijs in de laatmiddeleeuwse stad. Een onderzoek naar middeleeuwse economische ethiek op de ambachtelijke markt en in moralistische lekenliteratuur, Leuven, 2010. 139 Antwerp 1582 Law, p. 536 (ch. 65, s. 17); Antwerp 1608 Law, vol. 2, p. 64 (part 4, ch. 6, s. 17–19). For movables, rescission of the contract could only be asked for contracts of a value above 600 guilders, but this remedy was – and this was contrary to the humanistic interpretation – also available for buyers. 140 De Ruysscher, “Naer het Romeinsch recht”, pp. 372–73. The Memorieboeken, which were books containing legal arguments about the sections of the 1608 law book, refer to French and contemporary books, but this does not attest to an influence of legal-humanist literature on the contents of this compilation. See Bram Van Hofstraeten, Juridisch Humanisme en Costumiere Acculturatie. Inhouds- en vormbepalende factoren van de Antwerpse Consuetudines compilatae (1608) en het Gelderse Land- en Stadsrecht (1620), Maastricht, 2008, and my book review in Belgisch Tijdschrift voor Filologie en Geschiedenis – Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 90/1, 2012, pp. 593–7. See also Van Hofstraeten, “Company Law”, which provides many examples of parts of sections that were taken from the writings of commentators of the fourteenth century.

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the universities of Northern Italy, and – notwithstanding humanist influences there – also at the universities of Leuven and Orléans.141 3.5. Conclusion In the course of the later fifteenth and in the sixteenth centuries, Antwerp commercial law underwent important changes. In the first decades of the 1500s, proceedings of expropriation and enforcement of debt were adjusted with references being made to legal scholarly writings. This reflected a legal ambition of the Antwerp administrators, which went back to the Renaissance of the twelfth century. As more jurists worked at the Antwerp Town Hall, scholastic legal doctrine provided the underpinning for updates of the Antwerp municipal law. Moreover, starting from the 1530s, a fundamental renewal of the Antwerp municipal law consisted of a comprehensive and systematic re-formulation. This new method had been spread throughout Western Europe in legal-humanist writings. Because of the Antwerp administrators’ affinity with the Renaissance within legal studies of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, they incrementally pursued an ambition to devise an extensive and written municipal law. This way of working slowly replaced an earlier policy of endorsing and enforcing contracts, inter alia of merchants, without testing their contents. After approximately 1550, written law also concerned the contents of mercantile agreements. This development was a direct response to crises in marine insurance and partnership practice and a further consequence of the earlier embraced philosophy of academic law and of the princely programme of homologation. Around mid-century, the Antwerp administrators changed their approaches because of merchants’ demands. The latter had experienced the downside of too much leeway in contractual matters, which had incited fraud and confusion, and they urged for more rules. The Antwerp 1570, 1582, and 1608 law books formulated precepts of law that were impregnated with academic legal terminology and ideas, even though their contents were inspired by practice as well. The afflux of trade brought with it mercantile techniques. Practices of merchants were sometimes, but not always, Italian in origin, but even if they were, after a while they became used among many groups of traders. Such practices were not always normative, and if they were they were usually not adequate for settling complex disputes. Therefore, they 141 For the university training of Antwerp jurists in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, see de Ridder Symoens, “De universitaire vorming” and Hilde de Ridder-Symoens, “Het onderwijs te Antwerpen in de zeventiende eeuw”, in Antwerpen in de XVIIde eeuw, Antwerp, 1989, pp. 221–50. On the legal education at Leuven University during the 1500s, and its traditional features, see Philippe Godding, “La formation des étudiants en droit à Leuven (fin 16e–début 17e siècle): fait-elle place au droit coutumier et édictal de nos régions?”, in Recht en instellingen in de oude Nederlanden tijdens de middeleeuwen en de Nieuwe Tijd, Leuven, 1981, p. 437. A good overview of the renewal of teaching at most European law faculties can be found in Helmut Coing, “Die juristische Fakultät und ihr Lehrprogramm”, in Handbuch der Quellen und Literatur der neueren europäischen Privatrechtsgeschichte (Veröffentlichungen des Max-Planck-Instituts für europäische Rechtsgeschichte), ed. Helmut Coing, vol. 2/1, Munich, 1976, pp. 3–102.

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generally required serious extension and adjustment. Merchants petitioning for more legislation did not have many rules for themselves. The magistrate had to devise them and could not just select existing customs, or impose an obviously optimal rule.142 Commerce delivered the raw materials of law; the Antwerp jurists extended and transformed them with concepts and principles found in the academic literature into legal products that could be used in the courts. This was the case for new techniques such as indorsement of bills of exchange, but also expropriation procedures, bearer bonds and partnership agreements benefited from academic expertise. However, notwithstanding the influence of the humanist emendatio approach, the contents of humanist legal literature had limited influence in Antwerp. Rules and concepts that were inserted into the Antwerp law collections were often adopted from late-medieval academic doctrine. The adherence to legal doctrine after 1460 and the emendatio approach after 1530 are crucial factors in explaining the alliance between the Antwerp administrators and the merchants trading in Antwerp during its Golden Age. A policy of facilitation did not involve the copying or selecting of solutions that were available in business practice in a ready-made form, but rather the crafting of detailed norms that were only remotely based on the techniques and actions of merchants. For the main part, these norms were made out of academic elements. Academic law gave body to municipal rules, which had to be devised from often thin customs and mercantile practices. Notwithstanding the aldermen’s hesitations and delays in providing legislative answers to problems, what assisted merchants the most was this framework of sophisticated law into which the municipal law was placed. This was present throughout the Golden Age of Antwerp.

142 This runs counter: Gelderblom, Cities of Commerce, 201–3.

Bert De Munck  

Brotherhood of Artisans The Disappearance of Confraternal Friendship and the Ideal of Equality in the Long Sixteenth Century 4.1. Introduction Research on guilds and confraternities has developed more or less separately. Most recently, both strands of research appear even to have drifted apart. While ‘confraternity studies’ have matured into an autonomous historical sub-field,1 the history of the guilds has tended to neglect aspects such as devotion, confraternal friendship, and mutual aid. The will to approach them not as obsolete but as relevant institutions up to the end of the ancien régime has induced historians to understand them as ‘modern’ institutions, used by individual actors when answering more or less rationally to changing historical circumstances. Starting from a methodological individualism and game-theoretical models, these functions are now framed in social and, especially, economic terms, while the cultural and religious aspects are treated stepmotherly.2 Social customs, cultural practices, and religious motivations are often even reduced now to auxiliary concepts such as ‘trust’, which is used by historians and sociologists either to explain the economic efficiency of guilds3 or to link them directly to the emergence of modern political ideas and practices related to the so-called ‘civil





1 See Christopher F. Black, “The Development of Confraternity Studies over the Past Thirty Years”, in The Politics of Ritual Kinship in Early Modern Italy, ed. Nicholas Terpstra, Cambridge, 2000, pp. 9–29; Konrad Eisenbichler, “Italian Scholarship on Pre-Modern Confraternities in Italy”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 50, 1997, pp. 567–80; Christopher F. Black & Pamela Gravestock (eds), Early Modern Confraternities in Europa and the America’s: International and Interdisciplinary Perspectives, Aldershot, 2006. Also: Christopher F. Black, Italian confraternities in the sixteenth century, Cambridge, 1989. 2 For recent states of the art, see Alberto Guenzi, Paola Massa & F. Piola Caselli (eds), Guilds, Markets and Work Regulations in Italy, 16th-19th Centuries, Aldershot, 1998; Stephan R. Epstein & Maarten Prak (eds), Guilds, Innovation, and the European Economy, 1400–1800, Cambridge, 2008; Jan Lucassen, Tine De Moor & Jan Luiten Van Zanden (eds), The Return of the Guilds, Cambridge, 2008 (International Review of Social History, Supplement 16); and (on the Low Countries) Catharina Lis, Jan Lucassen, Maarten Prak & Hugo Soly (eds), Craft Guilds in the Early Modern Low Countries: Work, Power and Representation, London, 2006. 3 See, among others, Avner Greif, Paul Milgrom & Barry R. Weingast, “Coordination, Commitment and Enforcement: The Case of the Merchant Guild”, in Explaining Social Institutions, eds Jack Knight & Itai Sened, Ann Arbor, 1995, pp. 745–76; Avner Greif, Institutions and the Path to the Modern Economy: Lessons from Medieval Trade, Cambridge, 2006; Stephan R. Epstein, “Craft Guilds, Apprenticeship, and Technological Change in Pre-Industrial Europe”, in Journal of Economic History, 58:3, 1998, pp. 684–713; Stephan R. Epstein, “Craft Guilds in the Pre-Modern Economy: A Discussion”, in Economic History Review, 61:1, 2008, pp. 155–74. Important critiques in Sheilagh Bert De Munck • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 89–105.

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society’.4 In the same vein, mutual aid in the context of guilds is addressed from the perspective of guild members responding rationally to the typical insurance problems of moral hazard, adverse selection, and correlated risks when trying to establish insurance schemes.5 In order to tackle this problem, this chapter will confront empirical findings on guilds in Antwerp with ideas on community building and civil society. Katherine Lynch has recently linked medieval and early modern guilds and confraternities to the ‘nuclear hardship thesis’ of Peter Laslett.6 The central idea is that associations were founded (and joined) in response to a lack of strong (extended) family ties in an urban environment. In the process of providing mutual aid and other collective goods communities were built. This happened along the lines of the Catholic Church, which was not only important because of its contribution to a greater individualism (through the doctrine of mutual consent to the marriage) but also because Catholicism was itself a composition of artificial families (that is monasteries, beguinages, etc.). This would explain the strong interconnection of devotional practices and metaphors that refer to the family atmosphere – in particular the concept of ‘fraternity’ – in medieval and early modern societies, but these ideas are in urgent need of empirical testing. Was the development of guilds, guild regulations, and guild practices really related to demographic transformations and, if so, how? For an adequate understanding it is imperative to understand guilds as a type of brotherhood. Thanks to Black’s standard book Guilds and civil society, we have come to realise that guilds combined liberal ideas on person and

Ogilvie, “‘Whatever is, is right?’ Economic institutions in pre-industrial Europe”, in Economic History Review, 60:4, 2007, pp. 649–84; and Sheilagh Ogilvie, “Rehabilitating the Guilds: A Reply”, in Economic History Review, 61:1, 2008, pp. 175–82. 4 See of course Robert D. Putnam, Making Democracy Work. Civic Tradition in Modern Italy, Princeton, 1993. Important reservations in Edward Muir, “The Sources of Civil Society in Italy”, in Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 29, 1999, pp. 379–406; and Nicholas Terpstra, “‘Republics by Contract’: Civil Society, Social Capital, and the ‘Putnam Thesis’ in the Papal State”, Storicamente 2 (2006), http://www.storicamente.org/05_studi_ricerche/terpstra.htm. A reverse relationship (the trust needed to sustain trade in early capitalism as a necessary precondition for civil society) is assumed in Marvin B. Becker, Medieval Italy. Constraints and Creativity, Bloomington, 1981 and Marvin B. Becker, Civility and Society in Western Europe, 1300–1800, Bloomington, 1988. 5 For example Marco D. Van Leeuwen, “Amsterdam en de armenzorg tijdens de Republiek”, NEHAJaarboek, 59, 1996, pp. 132–61; Marco D. Van Leeuwen, Zoeken naar zekerheid. Risico’s, preventie, verzekeringen en andere zekerheidsregelingen in Nederland 1500–2000. Vol. I: De rijke Republiek: gilden, assuradeurs en armenzorg 1500–1800, Amsterdam, 2001; Marco D. Van Leeuwen, “Histories of Risk and Welfare in Europe during the 18th and 19th Centuries”, in Health Care and Poor Relief in 18th and 19th Century Northern Europe: History of Medicine in Context, ed. Ole Peter Grell, Andrew Cunningham & Robert Jütte, Aldershot, 2002, pp. 32–66; Marco D. Van Leeuwen, “Guilds and Middle-Class Welfare 1550–1800: Provisions for Burial, Sickness, Old Age, and Widowhood”, in Economic History Review, 65:1, 2012, pp. 61–90. 6 Katherine A. Lynch, Individuals, Families, and Communities in Europe, 1200–1800: The Urban Foundation of Western Society, Cambridge, 2003; Katherine A. Lynch, “Behavioral Regulation in the City: Families, Religious Associations, and the Role of Poor Relief ”, in Social Control in Europe, Vol. 1, 1500–1800, eds Herman Roodenburg & Pieter Spierenburg, Columbus, 2004, pp. 200–19.

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property, individual independence, and legal equality with such communitarian values as confraternity, friendship, and mutual aid.7 The Low Countries make for an ideal case study in that respect. According to Black, personal freedom, judicial and political equality, and individual independence were typical for the civil society in Southern Europe, whereas fraternity, friendship, and mutual aid were more characteristic of the ‘guild ethic’ that was allegedly founded in Northwest Europe. In addition, the differences within the Low Countries may be revealing as well. While the North (or rather the strongly urbanised coastal areas in Zeeland and Holland) was at first sight more characterised by Black’s civil society values, urban society in the Southern Netherlands would seem to have been more shaped by a guilds ethic. After all, in the political discourse of urban middle groups in the Northern Netherlands references were made to the political and juridical rights of the individual, while the masters of the guilds in Flanders and Brabant based themselves upon the rights of the collective.8 Unfortunately, research is in its infancy here. While Italian guilds have been examined as both crafts (arti) and brotherhoods (scuola), the brotherhood aspect has been neglected in recent research on guilds in most other European countries, in the Low Countries in particular.9 To a certain degree, this is due to the different historical situations. While in Venice trade guilds or arti had a scuola “attached to them”, guilds and confraternities were usually coterminous in Northern Europe.10 While this could have led historians to consider the guilds in Northwest Europe as both crafts and brotherhoods, they have not been treated as such in recent research – in particular, paradoxically, for the Renaissance era. While religious, social, and cultural features of guilds have been

7 Antony Black, Guilds and Civil Society in European Political Thought from the Twelfth Century to the Present, London, 1984; Antony Black, Guilds & State, European political thought from the twelfth century to the present, New Jersey, 2003. 8 See Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, “Ambachtsgilden in vergelijkend perspectief: de Noordelijke en de Zuidelijke Nederlanden, 15de-18de eeuw”, in Werelden van verschil. Ambachtsgilden in de lage landen, eds Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, Brussels, 1997, pp. 11–42, 27–28. Also: Maarten Prak, “Individu, corporatie en samenleving. De retoriek van de Amsterdamse gilden in de 18de eeuw”, in Werelden, eds. Lis & Soly, pp. 293–319; Maarten Prak, “Individual, Corporation and Society: The Rhetoric of Dutch Guilds (18th. C.)”, in Statuts individuels, statuts corporatifs et statuts judiciares dans les villes europénnes (moyen âge et temps modernes) / Individual, Corporate, and Judicial Status in European Cities (Late Middle Ages and Early Modern Period, eds Marc Boone & Maarten Prak, Leuven, 1996, pp. 255–79, and Jan Luiten van Zanden and Maarten Prak “Towards an Economic Interpretation of Citizenship: The Dutch Republic between Medieval Communes and Modern Nation States”, in European Review of Economic History, 10:2, 2006, pp. 11–47. 9 Some exceptions: Gervase Rosser, “Big Brotherhood: Guilds in Urban Politics in Late Medieval England”, in Guilds and Association in Europe, 900–1900, eds Ian A. Gadd & Patrick Wallis, London, 2006, pp. 27–43; Bert Meister, Sie sollen Bruderschaft halten: religiöses Engagement in den genossenschaftlichen Vereinigungen (Bruderschaften, Zünfte, Gesellenvereinigungen) der Stadt Altenburg im Spätmittelalter, Beucha, 2001, pp. 144–64. 10 Richard Mackenney, Tradesmen and Traders: The world of the Guilds in Venice and Europe, c. 1250 – c. 1650, London, 1987, pp. 5, 47–9.

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examined mostly for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,11 the problem of poor relief prior to 1600 has been addressed mostly from the perspective of public aid.12 Interestingly, the attitude towards charity and poor relief changed drastically during this period. Influenced by the ideas of Juan Louis Vivès’ De Subventione Pauperum (1526) – who claimed that able-bodied poor should be forced to learn and work – poor relief was increasingly limited to those who were physically unable to work or start an apprenticeship term. As a result, harsh treatment of the poor materialised in bans on begging, mandatory work, and apprenticeships being rigidly enforced.13 It is of course unlikely that the guilds’ attitude towards learning, devotion, and mutual aid did not change in this context, but up to now our insights have been limited to the political ideas of learned scholars concerning the guilds and civil society. While it is often assumed that the political, economic, and administrative functions of guilds were inseparable from their devotional practices, the scuola in particular are held responsible for the devotional aspects. Moreover, the scuola typically combined devotional practices with practices related to charity and mutual aid, whose crafts could also be relegate to a common fund or ‘poor box’.14 Add to that the possibility that the brotherhood-like functions were more likely to be based on unwritten and informal customs while the guild-like aspects (i.e. political representation, apprenticeship, quality control, mutual insurance, etc.) were regulated formally in written ordinances, and it becomes clear that devotional practices, fraternal friendship, and mutual assistance need special attention in subsequent research. Hence, this chapter will treat the Antwerp guilds as brotherhoods. Research on Mediterranean brotherhoods has recently paid attention to the vertical and horizontal character of the organisation and to

11 For example Sandra Bos, ‘Uyt liefde tot malcander’. Onderlinge hulpverlening binnen de NoordNederlandse gilden in internationaal perspectief (1570–1820), Amsterdam, 1998; Maarten Prak, “Armenzorg 1500–1800”, in Studies over zekerheidsarrangementen. Risico’s, risicobestrijding en verzekeringen in Nederland vanaf de Middeleeuwen, eds Jacques Van Gerwen & Marco H. D. Van Leeuwen, Amsterdam/The Hague, 1998, pp. 49–90; Frederik Verleysen, “‘Pretense Confrerieën?’ Devotie als communicatie in de Antwerpse corporatieve wereld na 1585”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale geschiedenis, 27:2, 2001, pp. 153–71; Frederik Verleysen, Het hemelse festijn. Religieuze cultuur, sociabiliteit en sociale relaties in de corporatieve wereld van Antwerpen, Brussel en Gent (ca. 1585 – ca. 1795), (unpublished doctoral thesis, VUB), Brussels, 2006; Alfons K. L. Thijs, Van geuzenstad tot katholiek bolwerk. Antwerpen en de contrareformatie, Turnhout, 1990; Alfons K. L. Thijs, “Religion and Social Structure: Religious Rituals in Pre-Industrial Trade Associations in the Low Countries”, in Lis et al., Craft Guilds, pp. 157–73. One exception is Arnoud-Jan Bijsterveld & Paul Trio, “Van gebedsverbroedering naar broederschap. De evolutie van het fraternitas-begrip in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden in de volle Middeleeuwen”, in Jaarboek voor Middeleeuwse Geschiedenis, 6, 2003, pp. 7–48. 12 See Hugo Soly, “Continuity and Change: Attitudes Towards Poor Relief and Health Care in Early Modern Antwerp”, in Health Care and Poor Relief in Protestant Europe, 1500–1700, eds Ole Peter Grell & Andrew Cunningham, London, 1997, pp. 85–107. 13 More on this in Catharina Lis, Hugo Soly & Dirk van Damme, Op vrije voeten? Sociale politiek in West-Europa (1450–1914), Leuven, 1985, part I. 14 See Bert De Munck, “Fiscalizing Solidarity (from below): Poor Relief in Antwerp Guilds between Community Building and Public Service”, in Serving the Community: Public Facilities in Early Modern Towns of the Low Countries, eds Manon Van Der Heijden & Griet Vermeesch, Amsterdam, 2009, pp. 168–93.

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the increasing dominance of political and ecclesiastical authorities. Regarding Bologna and Florence, for instance, Nicholas Terpstra has noted a rhetorical shift from a horizontal relationship among ‘brethren’ towards a more vertical relationship between rulers and ruled. This shift was accompanied by family metaphors becoming more prominent and a changing social composition of the brotherhoods in question.15 In general there seems to have been an ennobling of membership, which reflected a wider process of aristocratisation in Mediterranean early modern civil society.16 In political terms, the shift from ecclesiastical charities in the Middle Ages to a type of state bureaucracy materialised in a firmer grip of the patriciate on the lay confraternities. While becoming more prestigious the popular brotherhoods in Bologna were, in a way, co-opted.17 All this suggests that common confreres or masters lost grip on their organisations, but this is not the impression the Antwerp data give. In order to understand the Antwerp guilds as brotherhoods, a different perspective should be added. I will argue that the Antwerp guilds experienced a marked shift in which brotherhood-like characteristics – friendship, equality, mutual aid, etc. – gradually disappeared in the Renaissance era. This process was accompanied (or perhaps caused) by the gradual formalisation and bureaucratisation of informal practices and customs, but it cannot be seen simply as religious and political elites gaining a firmer grip on these organisations. Instead, it should be understood in part as bottom-up answers to economic and demographic – in addition to political and religious – transformations. In the first section, I will show that the regulations that are most typical for guilds as they are examined by social and economic historians (apprenticeship, masterpieces, entry fees) were formalised in the ‘long sixteenth century’. This process was the result, not of apprenticeship being more strictly enforced, but of guild masters (re-)defining their boundaries in the context of demographic and economic expansion and of strategies related to re-affirming their political and symbolic importance in the heart of the city. In the second section, it will be shown that these processes were in turn accompanied by the gradual demise of brotherhood-like aspects such as common meals and mutual aid. The importance of values such as ‘friendship’ and ‘equality’ declined, as a result of which mutual assistance turned into a type of insurance. At the same time, efforts to maintain a certain equality among masters with regulations related to workshop size were replaced with fiscal mechanisms taxing more prominent masters more than smaller ones. As sources I have used guild ordinances (and the results of previous articles based on them).18 While this seems to be inconsistent with the aim of looking 15 Nicholas Terpstra, “In loco parentis. Confraternities and Abandoned Children in Florence and Bologna”, in The Politics, ed. Terpstra, pp. 114–31. 16 Nicholas Terpstra, “Introduction. The Politics of Ritual Kinship”, in The Politics, ed. Terpstra, pp. 1–8, 7. 17 Cf. Nicholas Terpstra, Lay Confraternities and Civic Religion in Renaissance Bologna, Cambridge, 1995. 18 Some of the findings presented in this chapter have also been integrated in the book Bert De Munck, Guilds, Labour and the Urban Body Politic: Fabricating Community in the Southern Netherlands, 1300–1800, New York and London, 2018.

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for practices and genuine transformations in daily life, the idea is to examine precisely why certain norms were to be written down and why certain customs were formalised. This is particularly interesting for sixteenth-century Antwerp. Antwerp not only experienced a spectacular boom from about the late fifteenth century up to about the 1560s, the city can also be seen as the hinge – in both chronological and geographical terms – between the stagnating economies of the Mediterranean on the one hand and the more dynamic economies of Northwest Europe (England and the Dutch Republic in particular) on the other. From the late fifteenth century on, Antwerp took the economic lead at the expense of the Italian cities and city states and Bruges, before ceding economic precedence to Holland and eventually England from the last third of the sixteenth century on.19 Moreover, as the latter regions are traditionally known for their weak guilds, Antwerp was situated in a region with ‘strong’ guilds,20 the number of which moreover increased during its ‘Golden Age’.21 At its economic peak, the large majority of artisans worked in guild-based industries, and whenever new industries took off, they were mostly quickly incorporated in either an existing or a new guild. In addition, most Antwerp guilds (at least in the export sectors) are known for the all-pervading conflicts between three parties: merchants, large entrepreneurs (or masters), and small masters, which can be seen as typical for the early modern European guilds as well.22 4.2. Reforming Entry to the Guilds The guilds as we know them from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries did not emerge fully equipped in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Several of their most typical features only materialised in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Perhaps this process largely consisted of customs becoming written

19 Cf. Herman Van Der Wee, The Growth of the Antwerp Market and the European Economy ( fourteenth – sixteenth centuries), The Hague, 1963, 2 vols; Herman Van Der Wee, “Industrial Dynamics and the Process of Urbanization and De-Urbanization in the Low Countries from the Late Middle Ages to the Eighteenth Century”, in The Rise and Decline of Urban Industries in Italy and the Low Countries (late middle ages – early modern times), ed. Herman Van Der Wee, Leuven, 1988, pp. 307–81; Bruno Blondé & Michael Limberger, “De gebroken welvaart”, in Geschiedenis van Brabant, van het hertogdom tot heden, Leuven, s.d., pp. 307–11; Ilja Van Damme, “Het vertrek van Mercurius: historiografische en hypothetische verkenningen van het economisch wedervaren van Antwerpen in de tweede helft van de zeventiende eeuw”, in NEHA-Jaarboek voor economische, bedrijfs- en techniekgeschiedenis, 2003, pp. 6–39. 20 Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, “Different Paths of Development: Capitalism in the Northern and Southern Netherlands during the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period”, in Review, 20, 1997, pp. 211–42; Catharina Lis & Hugo Soly, “Export Industries, Craft Guilds and Capitalist Trajectories”, in Craft Guilds, eds Lis et al., pp. 107–32, 119–23. 21 Bert De Munck, Piet Lourens & Jan Lucassen, “The Establishment and Distribution of Craft Guilds in the Low Countries, 1000–1800”, in Craft Guilds, eds Lis et al., pp. 32–73. 22 Lis & Soly, “Different Paths”; Lis & Soly, “Export Industries”, 119–23. Also: Alfons K. L. Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’. De textielnijverheid te Antwerpen (einde 15de-begin 19de eeuw), Brussels, 1987, pp. 219–57.

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ordinances and informal practices becoming formalised. This is definitely the case with apprenticeship, which appears to have been an informal practice up to about the mid-fifteenth century. Prior to that period, no written guild ordinances mention a fixed term for apprentices to serve. The first written rules betray that, up to then, informal practices among a face-to-face group were dominant. Whenever a prospective master applied for membership, guild officials were compelled to inform the local authorities who the person was.23 This suggests that guild boards had their own mechanisms to decide on whether or not a prospective master was fit for master status and that they mostly knew who he was.24 Sometimes they required the master to prove “that he is able to do his craft reasonably”,25 which, in all likelihood, means that before fixed terms to serve and standardised masterpieces were adopted, a masterpiece was prescribed ad hoc in case the prospective master in question was insufficiently known to the guild’s officials. So we may safely assume that in ‘normal’ circumstances – that is, when prospective masters were known to the group – the legitimacy of one’s application was decided on an informal and ad hoc basis. It would seem, then, that the introduction of fixed terms to serve and standardised masterpieces was due, at least in part, to immigration becoming an issue in Antwerp in the second half of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth centuries. Although it is difficult to establish empirically, it can hardly be a coincidence that fixed terms to serve became a virtually general requirement for guild membership in the era of the city’s most dazzling growth ever in (relative) terms of population. The city expanded from fewer than 10,000 inhabitants at the end of the fourteenth century to some 100,000 about 1560 – the most important leaps to be situated about the last decades of the fifteenth century and the first two thirds of the sixteenth.26 By the early sixteenth century virtually every guild had a fixed term to serve as a standard requirement for masters. Moreover, between about the end of the fifteenth century and the beginning of the seventeenth, trial pieces became a standard prerequisite as well. Trial pieces were first mentioned by the cabinetmakers in 1497, the tinsmiths in 1523, the gold- and silversmiths in 1524, the linen weavers in 1528, the carpenters in 1543, the cloth dressers (probably) in 1536, the shoemakers and tanners in 1583, and so on.27 In the sixteenth century and beyond, a masterpiece was a standard 23 City Archives Antwerp (hereafter CAA), Guilds and Crafts (hereafter GC) 4001, 8 February 1404, fol. 3r; GC 4001, 1 September 1421, fol. 17r; GC 4001, 18 October 1424, fol. 39v; GC 4001, 1 March 1434, fol. 12; GC 4001, 20 August 1428, fol. 49r (coopers); GC 4001, 6 November 1436, fol. 1r; GC 4267, 21 August 1458, art. 2; GC 4273, 10 November 1436, fol. 30r. 24 e.g. CAA, GC 4001, 1 September 1421, fol. 17r–19r; GC 4001, 18 October 1424, fol. 39v–41v; GC 4001, 16 November 1431, fol. 46v–48v; GC 4124/bis, 19 May 1456, art. 7–8; GC 4001, 17 September 1487, art. 5. 25 CAA, GC 4001, 8 February 1404, fol. 6r; GC 4001, 20 August 1428, fol. 49; GC 4001, 1 March 1434, fol. 12; GC 4001, 6 November 1436, fol. 1v; GC 4124/bis, 19 May 1456, art. 6. 26 Blondé & Limberger, “De gebroken welvaart”, pp. 307–9. 27 CAA, GC 4334, 14 June 1497, art. 2, fol. 1v; GC 4335, fol. 1 (copy); GC 4264, 12 November 1523; GC 4488, 24 November 1524; GC 4341, 31 March 1543, art. 5–6; GC 4112, 18 April 1583, fol. 62v; Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’, 99.

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prerequisite whenever a new guild was established. The reasons for this are difficult to glean from the ordinances themselves, but it would in any case be too simple to straightforwardly attribute them to the need to guard product quality. What the guilds did instead was to (re)define their boundaries in the context of ever more complex labour relations. In-depth analysis of their fifteenth- and sixteenth-century ordinances reveals that a masterpiece was typically introduced in order to prevent apprenticeship requirements from being neglected.28 In 1515, for example, the cabinetmakers required a more difficult masterpiece after complaints about artisans who managed to become masters “without it being checked whether they were workers”.29 Moreover, the introduction of standardised trial pieces was typically accompanied by regulations preventing working in company, lending the master’s touch (trade mark) to an illegal entrepreneur or running several workshops.30 As all these practices were to be banned in order to prevent masters from ‘freeing’ illegal entrepreneurs – who wanted to act as masters without having finished an apprenticeship term – we may safely assume that masterpieces also served to monitor entry to the group more tightly. The crucial problem for guild boards was that large merchants circumvented the masters’ labour market monopsony by directly employing journeymen (or impoverished masters) in order to produce the finished products themselves instead of buying them from masters.31 Guild officials articulated this problem explicitly when prescribing the obligation to board for apprentices. Each time we encountered this rule in the guilds’ ordinances, it served to block fictitious apprentices, i.e. so-called apprentices who were not present on the shop floor but rather worked on their own account (perhaps employing the one who was called ‘master’ in the contract) and had themselves registered as apprentices in order to legalise their activities.32 Significantly, in order to counter these measures, these illegal entrepreneurs devised fictitious apprenticeship contracts whereby they either moved in with their ‘master’ or

28 See Bert De Munck, “Skills, Trust and Changing Consumer Preferences: The Decline of Antwerp’s Craft Guilds From the Perspective of the Product Market, ca. 1500 – ca. 1800”, in International Review of Social History, 53:2, 2008, pp. 197–233; Bert De Munck, “One Counter and Your Own Account: Redefining Illicit Labour in Early Modern Antwerp”, in Urban History, 37:1, 2010, pp. 26–44. 29 sonder dat men aangesien heeft weder het werckluyden waeren oft nyet. CAA, GC 4334, fol. 7v–9v; GC 4335, 6 August 1515 (copy). 30 e.g. CAA, GC 4028, 7 October 1536, fol. 18; GC 4485, nr. 1, fol. 11r–12v, 24 January 1543; GC 4264, 1 March 1543 (1544); GC 4485, nr. 2, 9 February 1557, fol. 13r–13v; GC 4002, 22 November 1574, fol. 64–65; GC 4002, 25 October 1582, arts 30–34; GC 4255, 17 January 1595; GC 4477, 9 November 1605, art. 4; GC 4003, 21 January 1621, fol. 26; GC 4042, 3 August 1622, art. 26; GC 4337, 19 July 1694, fol. 36. Additional references in De Munck, “One counter”. 31 See Bert De Munck, “La qualité du corporatisme. Stratégies économiques et symboliques des corporations anversoises du XVe siècle à leur abolition”, in Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, 54:1, 2007, pp. 116–44; De Munck, “Skils, Trust”; and De Munck, “One Counter”. 32 CAA, GC, 4262, 7 September 1521, fol. 1–2; GC 4264, 1 March 1543 (1544); GC 4004, 4 July 1651, fol. 42v–43v; GC 4488, 24 January 1543, fol. 76r and 78r; GC 4017, 30 May 1576, fol. 333ff; GC 4255, 17 January 1595, art. 6ff; GC 4028, 20 September 1696, art. 1.

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the ‘master’ moved in with them.33 Some guilds, in turn, considered setting a maximum age for apprentices in order to prevent this.34 In short, the rules we used to associate with either guarding product quality or the guilds’ paternalism served solely to protect master status and to exclude illegal entrepreneurs from circumventing the masters’ labour market monopsony or reducing masters to salaried piece workers. My hypothesis would be, therefore, that the guilds as we know them from the end of the ancien régime materialised in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as a result of the ambition to control entry to the group in the context of massive immigration and changing labour relations. The offshoot of this process appears to have been that guilds gradually stopped being ‘fictive families’. This becomes clear when examining apprenticeship arrangements more closely. Traditionally, craft guilds are seen as networks of masters who acted in loco parentis (as surrogate fathers) to apprentices.35 Under their master’s roof, apprentices not only learned the tricks of the trade, they were socialised in the guild (as a brotherhood) as well.36 They imitated their master not only as far as work was concerned; they were in a way prepared to follow in his footsteps as a burgher to the city and a member to the guild. However, this narrative tends to be qualified in recent research. While it has become clear that not every apprentice expected (or even aspired) to become a master himself, a distinction is made between sectors in which the relationship between master and apprentice may be termed ‘traditional’ and sectors in which this relationship rather tended to resemble the (modern, capitalistic) relationship between employer and employee. In the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries in particular wage- and labour-like relationships appear to have undermined the so-called Ganze Haus model, in which the apprentice was a full member of the master’s household.37

33 CAA, Notary’s Archives Antwerp (hereafter N) 45, fol. 168 (1701); N 1303, fol. 49, 199 (1747); N 4402, fol. 24 (1749), N 2913, 9 February 1752; GC 4490, 6 March 1781. Sometimes they founded a company, typically among family members: CAA, N 2787, fol. 66 (1669); N 764, fol. 35 (1721). 34 Dora Schlugleit, De Antwerpse goud- en zilversmeden in het corporatief stelsel (1382–1789), Wetteren, 1969, pp. 242–8. 35 See, among others, Steven R. Smith, “The London Apprentices as Seventeenth-Century Adolescents”, in Past and Present, 61, 1973, pp. 151–2; Steven R. Smith, “The Ideal and the Reality: ApprenticeMaster Relationships in Seventeenth-Century London”, in History of Education Quarterly, 21, 1981, pp. 449–60; Ilana Krausman Ben-Amos, Adolescence and Youth in Early Modern England, New Haven, 1994; Paul Griffiths, Youth and Authority: Formative Experiences in England, 1560–1640, Oxford, 1996; Christopher C. Brooks, “Apprenticeship, Social Mobility and the Middling Sort, 1550–1800”, in, The Middling Sort of People. Culture, Society and Politics in England, 1550–1800, eds Jonathan Barry & Christopher C. Brooks, London, 1994, pp. 52–83. 36 A synthesis with additional references in Maarten Prak, “Moral Order in the World of Work: Social Control and the Guilds in Europe”, in Social control, eds Roodenburg & Spierenburg, pp. 176–99. 37 Andreas Griessinger & Reinhold Reith, “Lehrlinge im deutschen Handwerk des ausgehenden 18. Jahrhunderts. Arbeitsorganisation, Sozialbeziehungen und alltägliche Konflikte”, in Zeitschrift für Historische Forschung, 13, 1986, pp. 149–99; Reinhold Reith, “Apprentices in the German and Austrian craft in early modern times – Apprentices as wage earners?”, in Learning on the Shop Floor. Historical Perspectives on Apprenticeship, eds Bert De Munck, Steven L. Kaplan & Hugo Soly, London/New York, 2007, pp. 179–202.

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My own research suggests that this was part of a wider transformation in which the public sphere of ‘the guild’ and the private sphere of ‘the family’ drifted apart.38 This becomes clear when considering the transformations of the entry requirements for masters’ sons. In the fifteenth century masters’ sons appear the have been entitled to master status by birth. As a rule they neither had to register as apprentices nor to make masterpieces or to pay entry fees – except perhaps for ‘the wine’ offered to the guilds’ deans.39 So masters’ sons were, in a way, born into the ‘guild family’. However, from at least the sixteenth century on, this situation changed drastically. About the mid-seventeenth century masters’ sons typically had to pay half the fees the others were due, and at the end of the ancien régime, they had to pay two thirds, three fourths or even more. Moreover, in the eighteenth century, masters’ sons had to be registered as apprentices more often and it was not unusual for them to have to make masterpieces like other apprentices.40 As a consequence, it would seem that from at least the sixteenth century on, guilds tended to become ‘external’ to the masters’ families. Masters’ sons having to meet the entry requirements of others suggests that guilds stopped being ‘artificial families’ in which one had to be socialised except when one was born into them. Perhaps they came to resemble more what historians have recently termed ‘civil society’ – i.e., a sphere separate from both “formal political life” and “the narrow confines of household or family”.41 4.3. Mutual Insurance and Fiscalised Solidarity The point I want to stress in this chapter is that the nature and character of the guilds as an organisation changed drastically in what can be termed the Renaissance era. From an informal and brotherhood-like organisation the Antwerp manufacturing guilds turned into formal and businesslike organisations in which membership was defined in juridical terms rather than through collective and face-to-face practices. In general, guild members shared a rich social life. They celebrated their patron saint, attended common meals and public ceremonies, collectively buried fellow members, and so on. In the long run, these collective activities appear to have grown less important to most members. Guild ordinances repeatedly mention fines for members who failed

38 As also argued in Bert De Munck, “From Brotherhood Community to Civil Society? Apprentices between Guild, Household and the Freedom of Contract in Early Modern Antwerp”, in Social History, 35:1, 2010, pp. 1–20; Bert De Munck, “Rewinding Civil Society: Conceptual Lessons from the Early Modern Guilds”, in Social Science History, Spring 2017, pp. 83–102. 39 e.g. CAA, GC 4112, 3 December 1477, fol. 39–43v, arts. 5 and 17; GC 4112bis, pp. 44–51 (copy); GC, 4001, fol. 1; GC 4002, fol. 231; GC 4341, 31 March 1543, art. 3–6. 40 References in Bert De Munck, Technologies of Learning: Apprenticeship in Antwerp from the 15th century to the end of the ancien régime, Turnhout, 2007, ch 2.1. 41 Lynch, Individuals, 19. See also: Antony Black, “Concepts of Civil Society in Pre-Modern Europe”, in Civil Society. History and Possibilities, eds Sudipta Kaviraj & Sunil Khilnani, Cambridge, 2001, pp. 33–38 and Black, Guilds and Civil Society and Black, Guilds & State.

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to attend processions, funerals of their brethren and other common activities.42 Some activities stopped being performed altogether, as was the case with part of the common meals. As a result of the guilds’ financial difficulties, meals to be held at the occasion of the entry of a new member were typically replaced with additional entry fees in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.43 While this may be seen as proof of the increasing rigidity and exclusivity of the guilds from a traditional perspective, my argument would be that it was part of a wider process – beginning at least in the sixteenth century44– in which membership turned into a juridical rather than a social affair. First, there appears to have been a trade-off between common activities and a type of mutual insurance. When the practice of distributing peas among guild members on Lost Monday (versworen maendach) or Saint Bavo’s day disappeared among the blacksmiths, the tailors, and the cloth dressers in the sixteenth century, the annual tax which was previously used to distribute the peas was transformed into a box fee, which was used to help poor members.45 Secondly, duties in kind were replaced with pecuniary mechanisms. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries entry fees were typically paid in wine or wax, so that they could be employed directly for devotional and social purposes. In the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries these in-kind fees were replaced or at least marginalised by pecuniary entry fees,46 which again suggests that the importance of common activities declined while membership – i.e. the duties to enter on the one hand and the benefits of membership on the other – was redefined. Telling from the guilds’ expenses – which of course account for the need for rising fee income – two elements became important instead of common activities: market segmentation and outward appearance. When justifying their rising entry fees (and their transformation into pecuniary fees) guild officials typically referred to either their expensive legal proceedings or the rents and costs related to their houses, chapels, and altars.47 As to the guilds’ litigation cases, they typically aimed at guarding their monopoly on the (local) product market and their monopsony on the labour market – and hence aimed at defining the guilds’ boundaries and master status. The guilds’ efforts to obtain conspicuous halls (preferably in the city centre) and to embellish or preserve their chapels and altars (preferably in the cathedral) can be seen as serious attempts to literally

42 e.g. CAA, GC 4001, 18 October 1424, fol. 42; GC 4001, 1 March 1434, fol. 14; GC 4124bis, 19 May 1456, art. 15; GC 4017, 17 September 1487, art. 6; GC 4101, 7 November 1538, fol. 11r; GC 4488, 31 March 1544, art. 21–22; GC 4060, 24 May 1557, art. 7–9; GC 4028, 7 October 1537, fol. 6; GC 4028, 30 July 1610, fol; 75–76; GC 4356, 30 July 1610. 43 De Munck, Technologies, 2.3.3. 44 Among the gold and silversmiths, for instance, the meal was an issue already in the 1520s. De Munck, Technologies, p. 111. 45 Emiel Huys, Duizend jaar mutualiteit bij de Vlaamsche gilden, Kortrijk, 1926, Annexe I, pp. 39–40, 8 January 1557; 75, 22 May 1557; 55–56, 28 September 1581. 46 De Munck, Technologies, ch 2.1. 47 De Munck, Technologies, ch 2.1.

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materialise their political ambitions in the heart of the city.48 The downside of this process appears to have been that guilds from brotherhoods turned into a type of bureaucratised lobbies which, moreover, could be internally divided. This is clear also from the fact that the obligation to buy the guilds’ uniform disappears from the ordinances from the sixteenth century on. In 1550 the coopers explicitly stopped requiring masters to attach “some silver” to their sleeves. From that moment on, the silver would be distributed to the poor box.49 In all, the point is not that outward appearances became more important; it is rather that the so-called ‘guilds ethos’ disappeared in favour of formal and bureaucratised practices related to membership on the one hand and the welfare of members on the other. This shift can best be illustrated by the transformation the guilds’ arrangements concerning mutual aid went through.50 The Antwerp guilds typically established common funds (armbussen or poor boxes) in the long sixteenth century. While five poor boxes were founded between 1450 and 1499, nineteen were established in the sixteenth century – half of them in the 1550s and (the first half of ) the 1580s (all figures are minima). At first sight, the reason for this was of course the increasing poverty of masters due to the influx of poor masters in this period of demographic expansion, but when looking at it more closely another reality emerges. First, the installation of poor boxes did not answer the increasing numbers of new entrants, rather the contrary. Telling from Jan De Meester’s database of sixteenth-century immigration (based on the burgher books) the foundation of a common fund was correlated with low numbers of new entrants. Moreover, the foundation of a ‘poor box’ was related to the creation of additional entrance fees and annual taxes to feed the box, which suggests that the creation of new revenues was the real issue. After all, as mutual aid existed long before the foundation of a poor box, installing one boiled down to earmarking certain (new) revenues with the aim of using them for poor relief. Given that this happened when their most important type of revenue (entry fees) decreased, my hypothesis would be that installing poor boxes was part of a financial operation – which was made necessary, at least in part, by their legal actions and the costs related to their houses, chapels, and altars. Not coincidentally, income fees rose markedly as well in this period, often in the same ordinances as those with which the poor boxes were installed. Still, from a long-term perspective there was more to it. As the creation of new revenues very often consisted of transforming certain expensive customs such as drinks, meals, and the distribution of peas into contributions to the poor box, the establishment of poor boxes appears to have been part of a tradeoff between guarding a mutual bond on the one hand and creating a type of

48 For more information on guild halls, see Johan Dambruyne, “Corporative Capital and Social Representation in the Southern and Northern Netherlands, 1500–1800”, in Craft Guilds, eds Lis et al., pp. 194–223; for devotional practices: Thijs, “Religion”. 49 Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 52, 19 January 1550–1551. 50 This section is based on De Munck, “Fiscalizing”. See also De Munck, “Rewinding”.

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insurance (based on solidarity) on the other. This trade-off is discernable in rules such as the cloth dressers’ in 1557, who stipulated that masters who were absent from the guild’s breakfast and the procession had to pay two stuyvers (in addition to the old fine) to the box.51 Hence, rather than as a sign of the vivacity of the brotherhood-like guild ethos, the installation of poor boxes should be seen as a symptom of the ideal of egalitarian brotherhood becoming obsolete. Additional arguments for this hypothesis are found when considering the structural transformations the Antwerp trades went through. First, this all happened in a period of intensive negotiations between small masters and large masters over the maximum size of firms, suggesting that large masters tried to dominate the smaller ones. As Alfons Thijs and Catharina Lis and Hugo Soly have shown, the sixteenth century was a period in which, at least in export industries, concentration trends soured relations among masters.52 Second, and perhaps related to this, identification with the guild on the part of common masters appears to have declined. This is at least suggested by guild members being obliged to attend processions and funerals53 and the fines anticipating the case in which elected officials did not want to execute their function.54 Typically, it also proved to be very difficult to collect the fees, suggesting that solidarity was (or was no longer) obvious.55 In short, the funding of poor boxes should perhaps be seen as part of a process in which negotiations on equality and solidarity replaced the (Christian) egalitarian brotherhood idea. This thesis can be substantiated with two further arguments. First, the erection of poor boxes appears to have implied tougher rules on who could profit from the box. Whereas fragmentary data suggest that previous informal and ad hoc assistance could include helping journeymen passing through,56 benefits from the formal poor box was strictly limited to masters who had moreover paid the fees to the box regularly. Journeymen and

51 Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 75, 22 May 1557. See also Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, 86, 29 March 1567. 52 Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’, pp. 219–57; Lis & Soly, “Different Paths”; Lis & Soly, “Export Industries”, pp. 119–23; Lis & Soly, “Subcontracting in Guild-Based Export Trades, ThirteenthEighteenth centuries”, in Guilds, eds Epstein & Prak, pp. 81–113. 53 e.g. CAA, GC 4001, 18 October 1424, fol. 42; GC 1 March 1434, fol. 14; GC 4124bis, 19 May 1456, art. 15; GC 4017, 17 September 1487, art. 6; GC 4101, 7 November 1538, fol. 11r; GC 4488, 31 March 1544, art. 21–22; GC 4060, 24 May 1557, art. 7–9; GC 4028, 7 October 1537, fol. 6; GC 4028, 30 July 1610, fol; 75–76; GC 4356, 30 July 1610. 54 e.g. CAA, GC 4028, 21 July 1561, fol. 51–52; Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 94–95, 18 April 1580; pp. 100, 30 January 1581. 55 e.g. Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 12, 3 February 1510 (annexe); pp. 20–21, 6 July 1574; 89, 23 July 1574; pp. 109, 19 November 1618. 56 Schlugleit, De Antwerpse goud- en zilversmeden, 71–2. See also Thijs, “Religion”, p. 161; Sandra Bos, “Beroepsgebonden onderlinges 1500–1800: gilden- en knechtsfondsen”, in, Studies, eds van Gerwen & van Leeuwen, pp. 91–141, 95. In Venice, the potters’ referred to a fourteenth century principle that the guilds should provide relief “for any master and journeyman who falls into poverty”. The bakers as well, may have provided relief for their journeymen (although on the whole it is rather unclear whether mutual assistance reached beyond masters). Mackenney, Tradesman, pp. 7, 61–65.

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apprentices were thus excluded. As to masters’ widows, they could profit from the box under certain conditions – typically as long as they did not remarry or leave the guild57 – as could (exceptionally) masters’ children.58 Considering also that the fees rose in the long run, the poor boxes were thus part of a transformation in which mutual aid – or rather mutual insurance – became a more exclusive affair. Secondly, there was a trade-off between mechanisms aimed at limiting workshop size (and hence: “to maintain a certain equality among the masters”59) and privileging small masters fiscally. As was shown earlier, restrictions on the number of journeymen, pieces of equipment, and (to a lesser extent) apprentices per master were gradually relaxed from the sixteenth century onwards, which suggests that large masters gradually overpowered smaller ones. This happened especially in export industries (textiles in particular),60 but the shoemakers and cabinetmakers raised the maximum from one journeyman (and one apprentice) to six journeymen (in addition to their own children) in the course of the sixteenth century.61 In all likelihood the formal installation of these restrictions in (apparently) the fifteenth century should already be seen in the context of a growing tension between small and large masters, resulting in the fraternity idea becoming superseded. In the long run, in any case, it was replaced with the idea that large (and hence richer) masters should pay more taxes than small masters.62 In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in particular the fixed annual tax (called kaarsgeld or jaargeld) was transformed or (more often) complemented by a tax which was relative to either the output or the number of employees. Output was taxed, for example, among the tanners, who had to pay one stuyver per tanned hide in 1746.63 In the construction sector, a small tax related to the number of days worked by unfree journeymen (typically one stuyver a day) was imposed in the first decades of the eighteenth century (the so-called bankgeld).64 In the 1750s, even the use of regular journeymen could be taxed, as was done for instance with the carpenters in the 1750s, who levied half a stuyver a day.65 All these taxes burdened large masters more than small masters ánd emerged in the 57 e.g. Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 71, 7 December 1556, art. 24; pp. 87, 28 July 1557; pp. 94, 18 April 1580; pp. 99, 30 January 1581. 58 Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 74, 22 May 1557. 59 CAA, GC 4001, 8 February 1404, fol. 5v; GC 4112, 3 December 1477, fol. 39r–43v, arts. 16, and 33; GC 4112bis, p. 50, (copy); GC 4112, 24 November 1603, fol. 87v; GC 4112, 30 January 1606, fol. 95r. 60 Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’, pp. 219–56. 61 CAA, GC 4112, 3 December 1477, fol. 39r–43v, arts 16 and 33; GC 4112bis, p. 50 (copy); GC 4334, fol. 1ff; GC 4335, 14 June 1497, fol. 2v; GC 4112, 24 November 1603, fol. 86v–87v; GC 4112, 30 January 1606, fol. 94v–95r; GC 4334, fol. 71r–72v; GC 4334, fol. 22; GC 4335, 24 December 1519, fol. 26v ff; GC 4334, fol. 22v, GC 4335, 4 June 1522; GC 4335, 25 March 1621, fol. 92v–94r. More examples in De Munck, Technologies, ch. 3. See also De Munck, “One counter”. 62 See De Munck, “Fiscalizing”, pp. 282–6. 63 CAA, GC 4112, 17 Februari 1746, fol. 163r, arts. 1–3. Also: GC 4116, 13 September 1786. 64 CAA, GC 4267, 22 March 1725, fol. 70 (masons); GC, 4345, 23 February 1767, fol. 83, art. 1; GC 4343, Account 1700–1703; GC 4343, Account 1711–1712 (carpenters). 65 CAA, GC 4341, 9 March 1746, art. 1; GC 4345, 6 July 1756, fol. 9, art. 19; GC 4345, fol. 102ff, 22 October 1770 (Advise); GC 4344, Account 1756–1757, fol. 17.

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context of guilds relaxing the restrictions on workshop size. The cradle of this system (as far as Antwerp is concerned) should be sought in the Renaissance era. When founding their poor boxes the cloth dressers, silk weavers, ribbon makers, and linen weavers all ruled that masters had to pay six stuyvers to the poor box when registering an apprentice, as a result of which large masters contributed more to the welfare system.66 It is no coincidence, in my opinion, that these were also trades in which the debates on the maximum number of journeymen or pieces of equipment were relatively intense.67 Another strategy was to permit large masters to employ unfree or alien journeymen in return for a certain income fee or tax, which happened in the construction sector among others.68 In short, while the equality among masters declined in real terms, solidarity was fiscalised. 4.4. Conclusions Clearly, the Christian and confraternal brotherhood idea disappeared in favour of instrumental and bureaucratised corporative structures, the precise features of which resulted from political negotiations among different power groups (notably large and small masters, merchants, and urban authorities). As such, our findings fit uneasily in the framework provided by Lynch, who suggests that confraternal values increased along with urban population figures. Our case study shows an increase in guild regulations, but this is related to a decrease in confraternal values, rather than the other way around. To a certain extent, the process might be framed in traditional perspectives such as state formation and the increasing dominance of elites vis-à-vis confraternities, but the introduction of formal apprenticeship requirements such as a fixed term to serve and a standardised masterpiece, did not answer Juan Luis Vivès’ ideas in his De Subventione Pauperum (1526) either. These regulations were not part of a policy to force youngsters to work and learn under a regular master in the context of patriarchal labour relations. All formal rules related to apprenticeship – a fixed term to serve, a standardised masterpiece, and the obligation to board – should rather be seen as attempts to guard master status in the context of demographic expansion and changing labour relations. As their most important regulations came about in order to exclude a certain type of (alien?) entrepreneur, the formalisation of the guilds’ rules and the bureaucratisation of the brotherhoods’ practices might be assumed to have been the result of defensive bottom up strategies in the face of disruptive socio-economic transformations (which came about, in part, from within the guilds themselves).

66 Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 76, 22 May 1557; Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 101, 30 January 1581; Huys, Duizend jaar, Annexe I, pp. 96, 18 April 1580; CAA, GC 4002, 2 August 1580 art. 8. 67 Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’, pp. 219–56. 68 Some examples: CAA, GC 4017, s.d., art. 7; GC 4267, 21 August 1458, fol. 4; GC 4341, 31 March 1544, arts 13–14; and Floris Prims, “Het kleermakersambacht”, in Antwerpiensia, 10, 1936, pp. 357–8.

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Nor can the guilds’ poor boxes be seen as applying Vivès’ call to ban begging and exclude all able-bodied persons from (public) assistance. At first sight, the guilds’ poor boxes applied the same principles as did the urban authorities in their rules related to public poor relief.69 While relief was strictly limited to disabled masters, it was also accompanied by disciplinary measures such as the prohibition on begging and (albeit less explicitly so) on attending taverns and pubs for those receiving relief. Where disability was the result of reckless behaviour, fighting, drunkenness, and the like, relief was not to be provided.70 But rather than urban authorities delegating their disciplining policy towards guild officials, the initiative came ‘from below’. Given that most guilds had more or less ‘democratic’ electoral systems (masters simply voting for their deans and aldermen among their members by majority rule) and that poor boxes as a rule were the result of guild boards presenting a request to the city’s bench of aldermen, the formal installation of poor boxes came about at the instigation of the guilds themselves. As these common funds were bound to relieve the city’s public poor relief institution (the Kamer van de Huisarmen or chamber of the house poor) the urban authorities as a rule appear to have welcomed them, but rather than see the guilds becoming instruments in the hands of local elites, this should be understood as the result of negotiations between different power groups within the guilds. The installation of poor boxes was part of a wider process in which mutual aid turned into mutual insurance in the context of solidarity mechanisms and equality among masters becoming weaker. The common bond and activities of guild brethren disappeared in favour of a type of mutual insurance which was based on solidarity only as far as masters (or masters’ widows) were concerned. At the same time, restrictions on workshop size, which aimed at maintaining a certain equality among masters, were replaced with a fiscal mechanism in which large masters paid (for the guild or the guilds’ poor relief system) according to their output or the size of their firms. Of course, this process was neither swift nor absolute, but it transformed the Antwerp guilds qua brotherhoods fundamentally from the Renaissance era on. Common activities were replaced with formalised, bureaucratised, and pecuniary mechanisms regulating entry to the group on the one hand and the benefits which masters might reap from it on the other. During this process, the connection of the guild with the masters’ families seems to have disappeared. As membership for masters’ sons came to resemble membership for non-masters’ sons, the guilds appear to have become organisations outside the masters’ private family spheres. Although one might conclude from this that guilds, in the end, turned into instruments in the hands of local elites, the above suggests that the transformation of the guilds’ practices and rules in the long sixteenth century should not be addressed exclusively from

69 See Soly, “Continuity and Change”. 70 Huys, Duizend jaar, p. 61 and Annexe I, passim.

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the perspective of state formation or the Protestant Reformation. I would argue, instead, that local face-to-face communities were obliged to reshape membership – in terms both of entry requirements and benefits – in the face of demographic expansion and labour relations becoming more complex. Although eventually large masters appear to have triumphed, the small masters were far from powerless in the sixteenth century. And, in any case, rather than (local) political or ecclesiastical authorities gaining a grip, most evolutions at least came about at the instigation of masters, i.e. manufacturing artisans.

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‘And Thus the Brethren Shall Meet All Together’ Active Participation in Antwerp Confraternities, c. 1375–1650 5.1. Introduction In 1606, the Antwerp confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady (Onze-Lieve-Vrouwelof), founded in 1479, decided that from then on only serving and old (meaning ex) masters had to be present at the annual meal. When a new ordinance was issued in 1697, the role of ordinary brothers seems to have been completely played out. The rights and duties of serving and old masters were described in full detail, especially their part in public processions and high masses. The larger group was only expected at the annual high mass. These ordinances were the result of a long evolution. Was the confraternity in the fifteenth century a close group of men and women? In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it had evolved into a public and non-committal group, but with a close core group. During the past decades, a lot of research has been done on Renaissance confraternity life in Southern Europe and the roles played by members and their environment. Research was, however, mainly limited to North-Italian cities. The general picture is one of increasing hierarchisation, elitarisation, and politicisation, a growing control of ecclesiastical and worldly governments, and declining brotherhood ideals in the course of the sixteenth century. This was mostly attributed to the Catholic Reformation, in combination with a context of centralising tendencies, oligarchisation, and economic decline. Ordinary members were excluded from offices and certain activities, or they had to carry out inferior tasks. The Post-Tridentine emphasis on individual devotion and public festivities exceeding one’s own group furthermore affected the type of activities. Sociability and active participation were replaced by public activities exceeding the confraternity itself, such as processions.1

1 See for instance: Andrew Barnes, The Dimension of Piety: Associative Life and Devotional Change in the Penitent Confraternities of Marseille (1499–1792), 1994; Christopher Black, Italian Confraternities in the Sixteenth Century, Cambridge, 1989; Christopher Black, “The development of confraternity studies over the past thirty years”, in The politics of ritual kinship. Confraternities and social order in modern Italy, ed. Nicholas Terpstra, Cambridge, 2000, pp. 9–29; Christopher Black, “The Public Face of Post-Tridentine Italian Confraternities”, in The Journal of Religious History, 28, no. 1, 2004, pp. 87–102; Anthony Black, Guilds and civil society in European political thought from the twelfth century to the present, London, 1984; Christopher Black & Pamela Gravestock, Early Modern Confraternities in Europe and the Americas. International and Interdisciplinary Perspectives, Aldershot, 2006; John Patrick Donelly & Michael Maher (eds), Confraternities and Catholic Reform in Italy, Hadewijch Masure • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 107–129.

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DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.119779

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Because of this one-sided focus on Italy, however, explanations are narrowed to this specific Italian context. It is still a question whether the same hierarchisation and elitarisation occurred in Northwestern Europe and to what extent the Catholic Reformation and economic decline, then, can still be held as the principal cause. To what extent did the Italian Renaissance of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries determine these evolutions? Here and there, research on France and the Netherlands seems to indicate similar evolutions of oligarchisation and the decline of a broad, active participation, thus suggesting that it was not an exclusively Italian phenomenon.2 However, as most studies are limited to the period either before 1550 or after the Dutch Revolt, it remains unclear how confraternities evolved in the long term. What was, for instance, the influence of the Protestant Reformation? How did pre-Tridentine confraternities adapt to the new expectations during the Tridentine reforms? Is something changing in this period or is our view of sixteenth-century modernity anachronistic? Did these changes mirror an Italian Renaissance example of renewal or did they do it their own way, only vaguely influenced by or even independently from their Italian colleagues? This chapter discusses the participation of members and their environment in Antwerp confraternities in the long fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The first part deals with inclusion and exclusion: who could become a member and who could not. The second part examines what activities were organised, who could participate, and how this evolved over time. Were activities restricted to members or were they open to a larger public? Did all members participate equally or do we see an active core next to a passive group? Could all members participate in decision-making? And, finally, which were the underlying ideas? Can we distinguish, for instance, an evolution from tight, horizontal relations to more hierarchical and vertical relations, as was the case in Italy, and what

France, and Spain, vol. 44, Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, Michigan, 1998; Stéphane Capot & Paul D’Hollander, Confréries et Confrères en Limousin du Moyen Âge à nos jours, Limoges, 2009; Nicholas Eckstein & Nicholas Terpstra (eds), Sociability and its discontents. Civil society, social capital, and their alternatives in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, Turnhout, 2009; Konrad Eisenbichler, “Italian Scholarship on Pre-Modern Confraternities in Italy”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 50, no. 2, 1997, pp. 567–80; Richard Mackenney, “Continuity and change in the scuole piccolo of Venice, c. 1250–1600”, in Renaissance Studies. Journal of the Society for Renaissance Studies, 8, no. 4, 1994, pp. 388–403; Edward Muir, “The Idea of Community in Renaissance Italy”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 55, 2002, pp. 1–18; Nicholas Terpstra, Lay Confraternities and Civic Religion in Renaissance Bologna, Cambridge, 1995; Nicholas Terpstra, The politics of ritual kinship, Cambridge, 2000; Ronald Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood in Renaissance Florence, 1982. 2 Andrew Brown, Civic Ceremony and Religion in Medieval Bruges, c. 1300–1520, Cambridge, 2011; Andrew Brown, “Bruges and the Burgundian ‘Theatre-state’: Charles the Bold and Our Lady of the Snow”, in History. The Journal of the Historical Association, 84, 2002, pp. 573–89; Maarten Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital? The evolution of Brabantine confraternities during the late medieval and the early modern period”, in Confraternities between laity and clergy in the pre-modern world, eds Nicholas Terpstra & Adriano Prosperi, Turnhout, 2012, pp. 153–86; Paul Trio, Volksreligie als spiegel van een stedelijke samenleving. De broederschappen te Gent in de late middeleeuwen, Leuven, 1993; André Vauchez, “Les confréries au Moyen Age: esquisse d’un bilan historiographique”, in Revue Historique, 110, no. 275, 1986, pp. 467–77.

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underlying community ideas were of influence? What role was played by religious reformations, political ideology, social polarisation, and demographic growth? The Southern Low Countries and Antwerp in particular, present the ideal context for this investigation. The impact of the Protestant Reformation was more intense than in Northern Italy, the impact of the Catholic Reformation later and weaker. Between 1566 and 1585, Protestants frequently gained power, getting religious confraternities into trouble. Their chapels were destroyed several times and from 1581 to 1585, Catholic services and organisations were even prohibited. The Catholic Reformation was only brought into full action after the surrender of Antwerp in 1585, much later than in Italy, where reforms had already started when the Synod of Trent (1545–1563) was still going on. The political context too was very different. The North-Italian society of strong clans and communal autonomy was declining in the sixteenth century to the advantage of oligarchic and centralising governances. In the Low Countries, centralisation attempts were even less successful.3 Moreover, Antwerp, contrary to most Italian cities, experienced demographic and economic growth well into the sixteenth century.4 Despite this, there is little known on confraternities in Northwestern Europe in general,5 and in the Low Countries and Antwerp in particular.6 Confraternities

3 Wim Blockmans & Walter Prevenier, The promised lands. The Low Countries under Burgundian rule, 1369–1530, Philadelphia, 1999; Jan Dumolyn & Jelle Haemers, “Patterns of urban rebellion in medieval Flanders”, in Journal of Medieval History, 31, no. 4, 2005, pp. 369–93; Walter Prevenier, Prinsen en poorters. Beelden van de laat-middeleeuwse samenleving in de Bourgondische Nederlanden, 1384–1530, Antwerp, 1998. 4 Alfons Thijs, Van Geuzenstad tot katholiek bolwerk: maatschappelijke betekenis van de Kerk in contrareformatorisch Antwerpen, Turnhout, 1990; Karel Van Isacker & Raymond Van Uytven (eds), Antwerpen. Twaalf eeuwen geschiedenis en cultuur, Antwerp, 1986; Herman Van der Wee, The Growth of the Antwerp Market and the European Economy (Fourteenth-Sixteenth Centuries), Leuven-Paris-The Hague, 1963; Etienne Scholliers, De levensstandaard in de XVe en XVIe eeuw te Antwerpen: loonarbeid en honger, Antwerp, 1960. 5 Barbara Hanawalt, “Keepers of the Lights: Late Medieval English Parish Guilds”, in Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 14, no. 1, 1984, pp. 21–37; Peter Johanek (ed.), Einungen und Bruderschaften in der spätmittelalterlichen Stadt, Köln, 1993; Katherine Lynch, Individuals, Families, and Communities in Europe, 1200–1800. The Urban Foundations of Western Society, Cambridge, 2003; Ann Ramsey, “From ontology to Religious Experience: Civic and Sacred Immanence in the Holy Sacrament Confraternities of Paris during the Catholic League”, in Confraternities and Catholic Reform in Italy, France, and Spain, eds John Patrick Donnely & Michael Maher, Michigan, 1998, pp. 137–54; Gervase Rosser, “Going to the Fraternity Feast: Commensality and Social Relations in Late Medieval England”, in The Journal of British Studies, 33, 1994, pp. 430–46; Miri Rubin, “Fraternities and lay piety in the later Middle Ages”, in Einungen und Bruderschaften in der spätmittelalterlichen Stadt, ed. Peter Johanek, Köln, 1993, pp. 185–98; Bert Meister, Sie sollen bruderschafft halden. Religiöses Engagement in den genossenschaftlichen Vereinigungen (Bruderschaften, Zünfte, Gesellenvereinigungen) der Stadt Altenburg im Spätmittelalter, Beucha, 2001. 6 Llewellyn Bogaers, “Broederschappen in laatmiddeleeuws Utrecht op het snijpunt van religie, werk, vriendschap en politiek”, in Trajecta. Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis van het katholiek leven in de Nederlanden, 8, no. 2, 1999, pp. 97–119; Brown, Civic Ceremony; Brown, “Bruges and the Burgundian ‘Theatre-state’”; André Deblon & Augustinus Janssen, “Broederschappen in de zeventiende en achttiende eeuw in het bisdom Luik en in de omgeving van Sittard in het bijzonder”, in Munire ecclesiam: opstellen over gewone gelovigen, Limburgs geschied- en oudheidkundig genootschap, ed. Jan Van Laarhoven, Maastricht, 1990; Herman Defoort, “De broederschappen in de

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were studied from a religious perspective only, paying too little attention to the importance of their social role.7 Participation is a key factor of confraternity life. After all, it determines the impact of an association on both someone’s individual life and the society as a whole, as well as the opportunities to develop real networks. Unequal participation can, moreover, indicate underlying (social) inequalities and hierarchies. Apart from a political approach, little is known about participation in social activities in the Netherlands.8 We only have very limited knowledge about the differences between pre- and post-Tridentine confraternities. A little later than in Southern Europe, the Low Countries seem to have experienced their change more around 1600, when Tridentine reformations became manifest. These post-Tridentine confraternities – often with a Counter-reformational worship of the Virgin Mary, the Rosary, the Blessed Sacrament, or the Christian Faith – were more open, Kortrijkse Sint-Maartenskerk tijdens de 17de en 18de eeuw”, in De Leiegouw, 28, no. 1–2, 1986, pp. 3–144; David Dieterich, “Brotherhood and Community on the Eve of the Reformation: Confraternities and Parish Life in Liège, 1450–1540”, University of Michigan, 1982; Koen Goudriaan, “Gilden en broederschappen in de Middeleeuwen”, in De Gilden in Gouda, ed. Koen Goudriaan et al., Zwolle, 1996, pp. 21–63; Peter Hoppenbrouwers, “De broederschap van Onze-Lieve-Vrouw te Heusden”, in De Nederlanden in de late middeleeuwen, eds Dick Boer & Jannis Marsilje, Den Haag, 1987, pp. 199–235; Roland Op de Beeck, De Gilde van OnzeLieve-Vrouwe-Lof in de kathedraal van Antwerpen. Vijfhonderd jaar Mariaverering te Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1978; Marc Therry, “De broederschap van het Alderheylighste Sacrament des Autaers te Roeselare (1728–1792). Barokke vroomheid en dechristianisatie?”, in Rollariensia. Jaarboek van het Geschied- en Oudheidkundig Genootschap van Roeselare en Ommeland, 13, 1981, pp. 64–107; Janna Leguijt, “Religieuze broederschappen in het 15e-eeuwse Utrecht. Een onderzoek naar de functies van deze broederschappen en de achtergronden van hun leden”, in Jaarboek Oud-Utrecht, 1994, pp. 5–32; Thijs, Van Geuzenstad tot katholiek bolwerk; Trio, Volksreligie; Trio, “Middeleeuwse broederschappen in de Nederlanden. Een balans en perspectieven voor verder onderzoek”, in Trajecta. Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis van het katholiek leven in de Nederlanden, 3, no. 2, 1994, pp. 97–109; Eugeen Van Autenboer, “De evolutie der broederschappen”, in Ons Heem, 39, 1985, pp. 114–28; Maarten Van Dijck, “Confrérieën in het Land van Aarschot, Rotselaar en Wezemaal (17de-18de eeuw). Een historische etnologie van Aarschot en omstreken”, KUL, 2002; Maarten Van Dijck, “Het verenigingsleven op het Hagelandse platteland. Sociale polarisatie en middenveldparticipatie in de 17e en 18e eeuw”, in Tijdschrift voor Sociale en Economische Geschiedenis, 2, no. 2, 2005, pp. 81–108; Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital?”; Godfried van Dijck, De Bossche optimaten. Geschiedenis van de Illustre Lieve Vrouwe-broederschap te ‘s-Hertogenbosch, 1318–1973, Tilburg, 1973; Aart Vos, Burgers, broeders en bazen: het maatschappelijke middenveld van ’s Hertogenbosch in de zeventiende en achttiende eeuw, Hilversum, 2007; Timothy Cross, “Religion and the Social Order in Liège, 1557–1650”, Columbia University, 1998; Maarten Van Dijck, “Lay or clerical initiative? Confraternities in Brabant during the late medieval and early modern period”, in Brotherhood and Boundaries, eds Adriano Prosperi, Nicholas Terpstra & Stafania Pastore, Pisa, 2011; Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “Brotherhood and Sisterhood in the Chambers of Rhetoric in the Southern Low Countries”, in Sixteenth Century Journal, 36, no. 1, 2005, pp. 11–35; Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “A Breakdown of Civic Community? Civic Traditions, Voluntary Associations and the Ghent Calvinist Regime (1577–84)”, in Sociability and Its Discontents. Civil Society, Social Capital, and Their Alternatives in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds Nicholas Eckstein & Nicholas Terpstra, Turnhout, 2009, pp. 273–91; Madelon Van Luijk, “‘Ter eeren ende love Goodes’. Religieuze lekenbroeder- en zusterschappen te Leiden, 1386–1572”, in Jaarboek der sociale en economische geschiedenis van Leiden en omstreken, 10, 1999, pp. 25–58; Marie-Thérèse Claessens, “De broederschappen te Antwerpen van de 14de eeuw tot circa 1600”, KUL, 1969. 7 Exceptions such as Brown, Van Dijck and Van Bruaene. 8 Brown, Civic Ceremony; Brown, “Bruges and the Burgundian ‘Theatre-state’”.

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but internally less democratic. The degree of active participation was low, with hardly any social activities. In general, they were far less often founded locally and bottom-up than pre-Tridentine associations. They were often organised on the level of the archbishop or a religious order.9 This research is based on the ordinances (regulations) and accounts of nine religious confraternities, founded in Antwerp during the long fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Their foundations were basically driven by laymen, and religious activities were their main purpose. Therefore they are to be distinguished from craft guilds, chambers of rhetoric, monastic prayer confraternities, and other guild-like associations. A thorough analysis of both regulations and accounts makes it possible to find out who could be a member and a committee member, which activities were organised, how these activities were presented, and who could participate. The expenses were categorised by types of activities. Although we can only discover those that were paid for by the confraternity or that are mentioned indirectly, we are able to determine which activities were considered important throughout time. Combining these results with records of actual attendances indicates the kind of participation in confraternity life: active or passive, by a large or a small group, only men or also women, open or closed, etc. 5.2. Confraternities in Antwerp Between 1350 and 1600, at least 62 religious confraternities were active in Antwerp. Most of them we know only by name, usually because they are mentioned in the registers of the bench of aldermen or church accounts. The oldest known Antwerp confraternity is that of the Holy Cross (Heilig Kruis), founded in 1375. During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries many others followed, the guild of Laud of Our Lady being the most prominent. Only nine of them left foundation statutes, seven also (limited) membership lists, and six of them accounts (two very fragmented).10 These nine confraternities are: the guilds of the Holy Cross (1375, accounts 1533–1559),11 Saint Anthony (St Anthonius) (1415, accounts >1508),12 Laud of Our Lady (O.-L.-Vrouwelofgilde) (1479 n.s., accounts >1487),13 Saint Hubert (St Hubertus

9 Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital?”; Thijs, Van Geuzenstad tot katholiek bolwerk, pp. 61–96. 10 Numbers based on Claessens, “De broederschappen”, pp. 5–47. 11 Statutes: Kathedraalarchief Antwerpen (KAA), Capsa Rerum Extraordinarium (CRE), 609; published in ibidem, pp. 130–34. Accounts: KAA, Registers (Reg), 220. Some years are missing. A small fragment of 1540–1541 in: Broederschappen in de kathedraal, Stadsarchief Antwerpen (SAA), Kerken en Kloosters (KK), 1847. 12 Statutes: KAA, CRE, 625; published in ibidem, 135–39; Floris Prims, De gulde van den groten Heer Sint Anthonys, 1450, te Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1948. 1011–15. Accounts: KAA, Reg, 206. 13 ‘Privilegieboeken’ with statutes, ordinances, letters and a membership list: KAA, Registers van de gilde van het Onze-Lieve-Vrouwelof (GL), 7–9. Accounts: KAA, GL, 1–3 en 20. Book of members (1631–1708): KAA, GL, 22. Statutes published in Frans Hoefnagels, Gilde van O.L.V. Lof, of: Kort verhael der instelling en voortzetting van de Kapel der H. Moeder Gods, in de kerk van Onze Lieve Vrouwe te Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1853, pp. 10–20; Claessens, “De broederschappen”, pp. 156–65.

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or St Huibrechts) (first mentioned in 1501, refounded in 1587, accounts >1587),14 the Holy Circumcision (H. Besnijdenis) (1426),15 the Sweet Name of Jesus (Zoete Naam Jezus) (statutes in 1564, but probably before 1490),16 and Saint Peter and Paul (St Pieter en Paulus) (1572, refounded in 1589, statutes in 1595),17 having a chapel in the church of Our Lady; the confraternity of Our Lady Receiving (O. L. V. Ontvangen) (1514)18 in the church of Saint George; and the post-Tridentine confraternity of the Cord of Saint Francis (het Koordje van St Fransiscus) (1588)19 in the church of the Friars Minor. This selection includes large and small, closed and open, elitist and non-elitist associations. From each of these guilds foundation statutes were analysed and also other ordinances and accounts where possible. From the accounts samples were taken (three years out of each ten or thirty years). What were the reasons to join a confraternity? Religious need was the most obvious reason. By shared devotion, people were hoping to shorten time in purgatory. The idea was that each member had a part in the entirety of the devotion. Each member was assured of a funeral and requiem mass attended by all other members and their prayers, something individuals could afford by other means only if they were wealthy enough to pay for salvation prayers. Social benefits were of importance as well. Each confraternity offered sociability, solidarity, and the opportunity to build a network. For this reason, many guilds were composed of people belonging to the same social standing or professional sector.20 In some cases, other considerations were of importance. In 1505, members of the Laud of Our Lady obtained exemption from service in the communal militia guards. Many of their requests to the city council stressed that without this exemption, no one would want to become a member and pay the high fees.21 5.3. Inclusion and Exclusion 5.3.1. Social Exclusion

None of the confraternities was open to just anyone. On the contrary: in order to remain the meeting place of a specific group, exclusion was often a rather intentional strategy. In eight of the nine confraternities, membership was possible only by consent of the leading masters or of a majority of the members.

14 KAA, Reg, 213. Statutes published in Claessens, “De broederschappen”, pp. 171–76; Edmond Geudens, Het St.-Huibrechtsgild en zijne Genooten in de Onze-Lieve-Vrouwenkerk te Antwerpen (1500–1821), Antwerp, 1921, pp. 60–64. 15 SAA, GA, 301, fol. 230r–233v; published in Claessens, “De broederschappen”, pp. 145–55. 16 KAA, Reg, 214. Statutes published in ibidem, pp. 168–70. The confraternity was first mentioned in the accounts of the Church of Our Lady of 1490–1493 (ibidem, p. 15.). 17 SAA, KK, 1847; published in ibidem, pp. 185–91. 18 Rijksarchief Antwerpen (RAA), St.-Joriskerk ( JK); published in ibidem, pp. 166–67. 19 RAA, Bogaarden (BG), 36; published in ibidem, pp. 177–84. 20 e.g. Rosser, “Going to the Fraternity feast”. 21 KAA, GL, 9, fol. 20–21 (1505), fol. 41–72 (1548); fol. 91–95 (1589); fol. 121 (1609); fol. 143–49 (1623); fol. 158–62 (1627).

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A first way to limit membership was by asking high income fees. Table 5.1 shows how closed each confraternity was at the moment of its (re)foundation. Only the confraternity of Our Lady Receiving (1514) and the Cord of St Francis (1588) did not make explicit demands on their members. In the other seven confraternities, membership was made socially exclusive by means of income fees, annuities, and obligatory extra costs (such as the costs of the annual meal or procession). Also, conditions could be stipulated – be they explicit or not – with regard to appearance, profession, or education. The confraternity of the Holy Cross stated that half of their members had to be clerical and half laymen. Members of the guild of St Peter and Paul had to have undertaken a pilgrimage to the relics of St Peter and Paul in Rome, a costly journey. A committee position was even more expensive. The committee was made up of one to four masters or deans, who were chosen by all members. They were assisted by a group of aldermen or old masters. The demands of these positions were in theory limited to being a male member of the guild and of good name and reputation. In practice, a master had to spend extra time, unable to work at that moment, and in some cases he also had to lend to or even pay the debts of the fraternity. Also some specific skills were needed: masters had to keep accounts and other documents, in the case of the Sweet Name of Jesus and the Holy Cross even in Latin. The number of members varied from a few to dozens. Five confraternities limited their numbers, keeping the group small. The confraternities of the Laud of Our Lady and St Anthony were medium-sized. The first had at least 61–91 members per year in 1542–1646.22 The guild of St Anthony grew from sixty-one members in 1450 to eighty-three in 1550, thereafter introducing a maximum of forty members, the actual number reducing to twenty-four in 1650.23 The numbers of the other two confraternities are not known. We remain largely in the dark about the kind of people who entered confraternities. But membership lists of three of them give an idea (St Anthony, Laud of Our Lady, and Holy Cross). They were all three elitist, but to a different level. The guild of St Anthony was in its early period relatively accessible to the middle class. Between 1415 and 1508, the profession of seventeen per cent of its members was written down: most were guild masters, some were German merchants and there was also a priest.24 The confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady was more elitist, being a meeting place for merchants. In the late fifteenth century, at least thirty-three per cent of all 197 members was merchant, five per cent 22 These lists probably only include members that had paid to be exempted from military service. Elderly, non-burghers and clerics did not need an exemption. The real number of members could thus have been higher. There is an indication in 1555: apart from the annuities of 55 members, the guild also received a voluntary sum of 17 old masters who did not want or need to free themselves (‘die hen nyet en begheeren te bevrijen’). In 1589 the guild declared in a request that they had only 52 members, from whom 24 did not need the exemption. KAA, GL, 1–3, 20; KAA, GL, 2, fol. 171; KAA, GL, 9, fol. 1r–3v en fol. 91–93. 23 KAA, Reg, 206 (1543–1650); Prims, De gulde, 1013–14.(1450). 24 KAA, Reg, 206.

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h a dew ijch masur e   Table 5.1. Exclusion in the nine confraternities at the moment of (re)foundation.

Women Limited number of members H. Cross (1375) / 30 St Anthony (1415) X / H. Circumcision / 251 (1426) Laud of Our Lady X / (1479 n.s.) Our Lady Receiving (1514) Sweet Name of Jesus (1564) St Hubert (1587) Cord of St Francis (1588) St Peter and Paul (1595)

Income Annuities Pay debts fees

Resigning

0,5 sch. 3 sch. 3 sch.

/ / X2

/ / 0,42 sch.

20 sch.

0,25–1 sch.

?

/

/

/

Members Members Dean/ Members3 Master lends sometimes /

/

12

1,5 sch.

?

?

20 sch.

/ X

21 /

20 sch. /

20 sch. /

Members /

30 sch. /

/

25

20 sch.

?

?

15 sch.

/ /

Sources: KAA, CRE, 609 (1375); KAA, CRE, 625 (1415); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1579); KAA, Reg, 213 (1587); SAA, GA, 301, fol. 230r–233v (1426); KAA, Reg, 214 (1564); SAA, KK, 1847 (1595); RAA, JK (1514); RAA, BG, 36 (1588). Abbreviations: Prices in schellingen (shillings) Brabants. X: positive. /: negative.?: unknown. Remarks: 1° As early as in 1459 this limitation was lifted and income fees fixed in proportion to one’s possessions. 2° The precise annuity of the H. Circumcision was not mentioned, but those who did not pay were excluded from the guild. 3° Until 1448, only the dean paid for the debt; thereafter, all members did (Claessens, 82–83 en 94).

high clergy, and furthermore there was a mayor, a master of the Mint, a nobleman, a candle maker and two stewards (the remaining fifty-two per cent unknown). At least eleven per cent came from outside Antwerp, most of them from Germany. Although most members were laymen, the canons of the chapter of Our Lady had a say in the accounts and the elections of the committee and the chaplain.25 The confraternity of the Holy Cross too was very elitist, attracting a public of high clergymen and town officials. Half of its members had to be clergy and half laymen, with professions such as majors and stewards.26 In the course of the sixteenth century, confraternities became increasingly elitist. Income fees rose far more than inflation did. The income fees of the already expensive confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady were systematically raised from 20 Brabantse schellingen in 1479 to £3 Brabants in the 1550s, to even £33 Brabants at the end of the sixteenth and £42 Brabants in the seventeenth century. Even 25 KAA, GL, 9, fol. 1–3 en fol. 13r (1485). 26 KAA, Reg, 220.

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when considering sharp inflation the rise of these income fees is substantial. The confraternities of the Holy Cross and St Anthony too raised their fees, though not as extraordinarily as did the Laud of Our Lady (more precisely £3 Brabants at the end of the sixteenth century). As a result, the group of members was increasingly elitist. Where the confraternities of St Anthony and St Hubert originally included craft guild masters, they evolved into a closed group of noblemen and aristocrats, causing the guild of St Anthony to be called the noble compagnie.27 5.3.2. Women

In the fifteenth century, women could be full members of two out of four confraternities, participating in all activities and elections apart from holding office (table 5.1).28 Between 1415 and 1508 the guild of St Anthony counted nine female members (six per cent of all members). At least until 1514 this confraternity’s accounts speak of broeders ende soesters (brothers and sisters).29 The guild of the Laud of Our Lady counted twenty-four female members between 1479 and 1494 (twelve per cent of all members).30 Most of these women (an exception of two in each guild) came with their husbands or as widows of ex-members, but they nevertheless participated in all activities such as the annual meal, requiem masses, and elections, as can be read in both statutes and accounts.31 Already at the beginning of the sixteenth century, the active participation of women was under pressure. After 1504 (Laud of Our Lady) and 1515 (St Anthony), only broeders (brothers) were mentioned. Thereafter, women acted only as givers of bequests and gifts. Also, the wives of members could pay in order to still have the advantage of a requiem mass, but they were no longer full members.32 5.4. Activities and Participation 5.4.1. In General

What activities were organised and for whom? Table 5.2 shows the main activities in confraternities at the moment of their (re)foundation. In each of the confraternities, the patron saint’s day was the most important activity. On these days, a high mass was celebrated; the annual general requiem mass, and processions

27 KAA, Reg, 213; Thijs, Van Geuzenstad tot katholiek bolwerk, p. 84; Geudens, Het St.-Huibrechtsgild, pp. 59, 84–88, 99–108. 28 See on women in confraternities: Giovanna Casagrande, “Confraternities and lay female religiosity in late medieval and Renaissance Umbria”, in The politics of ritual kinship, ed. Nicholas Terpstra, Cambridge, 2000; Anna Esposito, “Men and women in Roman confraternities in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries: roles, functions, expectations”, ibidem. 29 KAA, Reg, 206. 30 KAA, GL, 9, fol. 1–3; KAA, GL, 1. 31 Vb. KAA, Reg, 206, fol. 20r; KAA, GL, 1, fol. 77v–86r; KAA, CRE, 625 (1415); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1579). 32 KAA, GL, 1–2; KAA, Reg, 206.

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h a dew ijch masur e   Table 5.2. Main activities at the moment of (re)foundation.

H. Cross

High Processions Annual masses (minimum) requiem mass 2 ? 1

St Anthony

1

?

1

H. Circumcision

1

?

1

Laud of Our Lady Our Lady Receiving Sweet Name of Jesus St Hubert

6 / 1 1

? / ? ?

1 / X 1

Cord of St Francis St Peter and Paul

4 1

13 1

1 1

Individual Regular requiem masses masses X Each Friday X 5x per week X Each Saturday X Each day / / X / No, but Weekly funeral / / X /

Annual meal 2 1 1 1 / 1 2 / 2

Expressed in number of activities per year. X: positive. /: negative.?: unclear. Source: KAA, CRE, 609 (1375); KAA, CRE, 625 (1415); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1579); KAA, Reg, 213 (1587); SAA, GA, 301, fol. 230r–233v (1426); KAA, Reg, 214 (1564); SAA, KK, 1847 (1595); RAA, JK (1514); RAA, BG, 36 (1588).

and meals were held. The meal, followed by the elections, was originally held in the confraternity’s chapel or a master’s house. During the sixteenth century, these meals were excluded from church buildings – possibly at the instigation of Catholic reforms – taking place in a tavern instead. From 1506, the meal of the guild of the Laud of Our Lady had the form of a rice pudding feast. Next to these annual meals, other smaller meals existed, for instance after a procession. Furthermore, individual requiem masses and regular masses were celebrated throughout the year. Contrary to many Northern-Italian and some Dutch confraternities, none of the Antwerp guilds organized charity for their members or outsiders. The only exception was the confraternity of the Cord of St Francis, where surpluses were given to poor members.33 However, the committees could decide not to charge or lower income fees and funeral fees (doodschulden).34 Nevertheless, confraternities sometimes acted as an intermediary in charity: they occasionally received a testamentary gift for an anniversary mass that included the distribution of bread.35 Who participated in these activities? In the fifteenth and the early sixteenth centuries, none of the confraternities distinguished between their members.

33 RAA, BG, 36 (1588). 34 E.g. in the guild of St Hubert (KAA, Reg, 213 (1587)). 35 KAA, Reg, 213; KAA, GL, 3.

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Everyone had the same right to have a requiem mass and to attend each activity. Several confraternities even made attendance obligatory, threatening with fines. As everyone, including women, had a vote in elections and was present at the annual closing of the accounts, non-committee-members were to a certain extent involved in administration.36 Not all confraternities were evenly demanding towards their members. The closed confraternity of the Holy Cross was strict: all activities were obligatory under penalty of 1 denier.37 The other confraternities expected all of their members to come to their meals, high and requiem masses, but did not impose fines. The confraternity of Our Lady Receiving on the other hand did not organise any collective activity. Members were only expected to go to confession on the patron saint’s day and to pray for the souls of their co-members.38 According to the accounts, participation was high in the fifteenth and first half of the sixteenth centuries. Most of the Holy Cross brothers were actually present at meals.39 Accounts from other confraternities seldom mention the precise number of participants, but also give the impression of quasi-full participation of all members in activities such as the annual meal.40 In discourse too, a brotherhood ideal can be found, as in the statutes of the confraternity of the Holy Cross in 1375: “And thus the brethren shall assist each other in word and deed”.41 In some activities, non-members too could participate. Outsiders could not participate in meals and elections.42 But high masses and processions were open to a wide public. Unfortunately, none of the regulations and accounts provides much information about participation in processions in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. From research on Bruges and Ghent, however, it became clear that confraternities actively engaged in processions.43 The possible participation of outsiders in requiem and regular masses is in most cases unclear.

36 KAA, CRE, 609 (1375); KAA, CRE, 625 (1415); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1579); SAA, GA, 301, fol. 230r–233v (1426). 37 KAA, CRE, 609 (1375). 38 KAA, CRE, 625 (1415); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1579); SAA, GA, 301, fol. 230r–233v (1426); RAA, JK (1514); KAA, GL, 9, fol. 10–14 (1479). 39 KAA, Reg, 220. Number of brothers present at meals noted in the accounts. 40 KAA, GL, 1. 41 ‘Item statuimus et ordinavimus quod quilibet frater astabit confratri suo consilio, auxilio et favore in omnibus causis suis necessitatibus uistis pro posse suo’, KAA, CRE, nr. 609 (1375). 42 In the guild of the Laud of Our Lady chapterlords, deacons, burgomasters and aldermen were invited at the meal; they even had a right of say in the elections and the closing of accounts: ‘Item selen die vier meesters van desen bruerscappe […] bidden den deken ende capittel, burgmeesters ende scepenen ende voirts alle die bruers ende susters vanden bruerscap dat sij […] comen […] ende voirts des noenens te gane metten meesters ter maeltijt; ende daernae te hoiren de rekeninghe […] ende te helpen kiesen twee nijeuw meesters vuijt des voirts. Bruederscap, dat goede eerbare mannen sijn, geestelijck oft werelijck. Ende daer te voiren selen die selve meesters comen bijde Heeren deken ende capittele voirs., om te hebbene heurliede gedeputeerde, om over de voirseijde rekeninghe ende keuse te sijne; ende die te aenhoiren ende te sluijten’. KAA, CRE, 507 (1479). 43 Brown, Civic Ceremony; Brown, “Bruges and the Burgundian ‘Theatre-state’”; Trio, Volksreligie; Arnade, Realms of ritual: Burgundian ceremony and civic life in late medieval Ghent, Ithaca-London, 1996.

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In the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady, the annual requiem mass was open to a wider public, but the daily Laud was not.44 In order to find out what importance confraternities attached to activities, their expenses were analysed. Figs 5.1 to 5.4 show the annual total expenses per type of activity in the confraternities of the Holy Cross, St Anthony, the Laud of Our Lady, and St Hubert (corrected on inflation on the basis of a consumption basket).45 Debts and hereditary foundation masses are excluded, as debts would otherwise be counted double and decisions of earlier years would be overly represented. Regular religious expenses and requiem masses remained relatively stable in all four confraternities. Between 1581 and 1585 they came to a stop for a short time due to the ban on all catholic masses and confraternities. Chapel expenses could vary a lot: one expensive object or necessary reparation could make the expenses increase sharply. That was the case, for instance, in the years following the surrender of Antwerp in 1585, when all confraternities had to redecorate their chapels destroyed by iconoclasm. The expenses of the guild of the Laud of Our Lady are much higher than those of others, being the most active confraternity, organising daily Laud masses, several high days, and meals per year. The accounts of the guild of the Holy Cross confirm its closed character. They organised mainly private activities: the main expense was two annual meals. The chapel was renovated, but public high masses constituted only a fraction of the total expenses. It is the expenses for meals that change the most strikingly. Between c. 1500 and 1570, the expenses for meals increased considerably. After 1570, these expenses dropped (except for an exceptional peak in the turbulent 1580s). These rising expenses for meals are striking because the Reformation, which fulminated strongly against this meal culture of guilds, would make one expect the opposite. But the brothers clearly did not care. Both the number of meals and the sum spent on meals (in total and per capita) were the highest in the 1540s–1560s (Figs 5.1–8). The real amount of food too was the highest around 1540 (Fig. 5.6). 44 The upper priest of the Church of Our Lady was paid to invite his parishioners to this requiem mass in his sermon. In the daily Laud only members, church masters, deacons and chapterlords were welcome: ‘Die cnape […] alle avonde, eene half ure voirden loff, vuijter capellen selen moegen doen gaen alle die geen broeders off susters en sijn; ende die capelle toesluijten om die bijden voirs. Heeren Deken ende capittele, bij den kerckmeesters ende bij dijen vanden bruederschap rustelijck ende vredelijck gebruijct te moegen zorden, die wijle den voirs. loff gedueren sal’, KAA, GL, 1–3; 9 (1485). 45 Averages per sample period. Absolute graphs are chosen, as this shows most clearly the evolutions in expenses. For the guild of St Anthony an exception was made, as very high expenses in 1604–1605 made the absolute graph very unclear. Inflation is calculated by dividing the total expenses of confraternities by an index with base year 1544 on the basis of an Antwerp consumption basket made by Herman Van Der Wee (Herman Van der Wee, “Prijzen en lonen als ontwikkelingsvariabelen. Een vergelijkend onderzoek tussen Engeland en de Zuidelijke Nederlanden, 1400–1700”, in Album aangeboden aan Charles Verlinden ter gelegenheid van zijn dertig jaar professoraat, ed. S.N., Gent, 1975.). An indexing on the basis of wage date (ibidem) gives a very similar result.

‘an d thus the b r ethren sha ll meet a ll tog ether’

Figure 5.1. Expenses of the confraternity of the Holy Cross.

Figure 5.2. Expenses of the confraternity of St Anthony.

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Figure 5.3. Expenses of the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady.

Figure 5.4. Expenses of the confraternities of St Hubert.

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Figure 5.5. Expenses to meals per capita in the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady.

Figure 5.6. Expenses on rice pudding in the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady.

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The peak of the 1580s can be explained by extra feast and contract meals just before and after the refoundation, by very high food prices during the siege, and by a small number of members as opposed to fixed costs.46 After the drop in expenses on meals from the 1570s, mainly high days were growing more important. What was happening? 5.4.2. Hierarchisation and Core vs. Group

The number and amount of, and expenses on meals thus increased until the 1570s. Should we interpret this as increasing sociability and mutual participation? To answer this, we need to look at the kind of meals that were organised and who was welcome or present, which we can do for the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady. Figs 5.7 and 5.8 show their meals per type, ranging from administrative meetings to processions, and for whom they were intended. It shows that the story is more complex than what rising expenses on social activities would at first suggest. From the 1540s and particularly the 1550s, in the confraternities of St Anthony and the Laud of Our Lady, an increasing distinction was made between ordinary members on the one hand, and masters and old masters on the other. The growth in the number of and expenses on meals is entirely due to meals where only this small group of (old) masters (meesters en ouders) was invited (Fig. 5.8). The annual rice pudding feast of the guild of the Laud of Our Lady, bringing together all members once a year, was even abolished in 1579.47 The feast was abolished because of the high costs, but that was only a matter of priorities. After all, other expenses continued to rise (Fig. 5.3). After 1585, the only meals open to all members were funeral meals, however only organised for dead (old) masters (Figs 5.7–8).48 From the 1560s the confraternity’s accounts were formally closed in the exclusive presence of old masters (‘in presentie van doude meesters’), in contrast to the early years, when all members ate together (‘als die guldebruers zaemen eten als men die rekeninge doet’). Ordinary members were, thus, probably no longer involved in the administration. What is more, in 1606, the guild of the Laud of Our Lady decided that new members were only admitted with the consent of

46 See also: Allyson Poska, “From Parties to Pieties: Redefining Confraternal Activity in SeventeenthCentury Ourense (Spain)”, in Confraternities and Catholic Reform in Italy, France, and Spain, eds John Donnely & Michael Maher, Michigan, 1998, pp. 215–31. 47 ‘Anno 1579 is […] goet gevonden alsoo de capelle verscheijden reparatien ende oncosten seer ten achtere was, af te brecken den reijs die men gewoon was uijt te deylen alle jaeren aen de meesters ende guldebroeders den eersten maendach naer Lichtemisse als men de misse van Requiem doet voor alle de guldebroeders die gestorven sijn om hier door de capelle alsoo enighsints te ontlasten; ende sedert is het selve altijd achtergebleven ende niet meer uijtgedeijlt’, KAA, GL, 9, fol. 83; confirmed in the accounts (KAA, GL, 2–3, 20). 48 In 1606 the breakfast of the confraternity on the day of Onze-Lieve-Vrouw-Ommegang (a procession for Our Lady), intented for all members, was replaced by a meal open to (old) masters only. In 1619, a rent was bought for ‘eene eerlijcke recreatie ende maeltijt ten dagen van d’afsterven van eenen van de confreers meesters geweest sijnde’. KAA, GL, 20; 9, fol. 139–40 en fol. 115–16.

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Figure 5.7. Expenses on meals in the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady per type.

Figure 5.8. Yearly number of meals in the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady and for whom.

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serving and old masters and no longer of all members.49 We can conclude from the signatures written under each account that this guild had ten to thirty old masters, which is approximately one sixth to one third of the total number of active brothers.50 This hierarchisation and separation of a core group of serving and old masters had a social impact. As masters had to be capable of paying part of the accounts in advance and taking working time off, as we described earlier, this hierarchisation reinforced the already ongoing elitarisation. The active participation of ordinary members thus waned in certain preTridentine confraternities, although not yet becoming as free of guild work as post-Tridentine guilds. Brothers still held their funerals, and sometimes also marriages in the guild chapel.51 The guild servant and chaplain carried the bodies of deceased members to their funerals. The old habit of all members accompanying the body for free, however, passed into disuse.52 Next to the distinction between (old) masters and ordinary members, a third, even more non-engaging group came into being. People attending certain high days, including non-members, could receive an indulgence. From 1631 onwards, the guild of the Laud of Our Lady noted these people down. In 1631, next to 79 full members and their spouses, 50 non-members were written down, including many women. These persons otherwise played no active role in the confraternity.53 In the small and closed confraternities of St Hubert and the Holy Cross, the segregation of a core group did not play such an important role. All members continued to participate in the same way. In the confraternity of St Hubert attendance at the annual requiem and high mass remained obligatory after 1587, just like accompanying a confrere’s dead body. The annual closing of the accounts and election meal too remained open to all members, voting with general consent (‘gemeynen vois vande guldebroeders’). Brothers could not invite outsiders to these meals.54 5.4.3. Private vs. Public

Confraternities organised activities open to a broad public as well. On high days a solemn mass was celebrated, the chapel was decorated, and musicians were invited. Confraternities also participated in processions. The exact number of and expenses on processions cannot be deduced from the statutes or accounts, as most of the time only the total costs of a high day or general purchases were written down. The real expenses on processions might therefore have been larger than Figs 5.9 and 5.10 suggest. We know, however, that the confraternities of

49 50 51 52 53 54

KAA, GL, 9, fol. 115–16. KAA, GL, 1–3, 20; KAA, Reg, 206. KAA, GL, 3 (1626). KAA, GL, 3 (1634). KAA, GL, 21. KAA, Reg, 213.

‘an d thus the b r ethren sha ll meet a ll tog ether’

Figure 5.9. Expenses on public activities in the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady.

Figure 5.10. Expenses on public activities in the confraternity of St Anthony.

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St Anthony and the Laud of Our Lady joined in at least two and probably twelve to fourteen processions per year. Ordinary members too participated in these processions, as the confraternities’ accounts mention the purchase of torches for them.55 It is unclear exactly how many members, if not all, were present.56 After 1585, pre-Tridentine confraternities reacted in two ways to changing society and the Catholic Reformation. A first group of them became more withdrawn. A second group, on the other hand, began to express itself more in the public sphere, but without engagement from common members. The guild of St Hubert is an example of the first group, withdrawing itself from the public sphere after 1585. Money paid for social and private activities continued to dominate the accounts (Fig. 5.4). The confraternities of St Anthony and the Laud of Our Lady, on the other hand, became more elitist and hierarchised, with a closed core, but at the same time expanded their public activities.57 The years following the surrender of Antwerp in 1585 experienced a strong Counterreformational reaction, which was expressed in many and grand processions, often at the instigation of the new town council or the Church. By ostentatiously moving through the streets with statues of a saint or Mary, catholic confraternities demonstrated their take-over of the town and the sacred space.58 Hence, the expenses on processions peaked in the 1590s (Figs 5.9 and 5.10). In the confraternity of the Laud of Our Lady, high masses were celebrated with increasing splendour. Festivities went on longer and longer, the decorations became more and more spectacular.59 Common members participated in processions, but their role was becoming less active. Statutes of 1606 and 1697 speak only of old and serving masters; participation by common members was no longer mentioned.60 These two confraternities actively communicated with the urban population not just by means of processions and high masses. On high days, they distributed devotion prints (‘beeldekens’). The number of distributed prints was much higher than the number of members, indicating that they went beyond their own guild, fulfilling a public function. For instance, the guild of St Anthony distributed 500 prints although it had only thirty-one members in 1604, and in 1635 the guild of the Laud of Our Lady ordered 1200 prints when it had only twenty-eight full members.61

55 ‘ Van keerssen dyn de guldebruers qwamen halen om mijt inde processie te gane’, KAA, GL, 1–3. 56 KAA, GL, 1–2. 57 Black, “The Public Face”; Richard Mackenney, “Public and private in Renaissance Venice”, in Renaissance Studies, 12, no. 1, 1998, pp. 109–30; Pierre Mory, “Les fêtes patronales à Tournai et dans le Tournaisis du 18e siècle à aujourd’hui. Essai d’analyse de leurs fonctions et de leurs significations”, in Mémoires de la Société royale d’histoire et d’archéologie de Tournai, 1, no. 2, 1980, pp. 168–211; Alfons Thijs, “Private en openbare feesten: communicatie, educatie en omgaan met macht (Vlaanderen en Brabant 16de – midden 19de eeuw)”, in Volkskunde. Driemaandelijks tijdschrift voor de studie van het volksleven, 101, no. 3, 2000, pp. 81, 146. 58 Similar conclusions in Andrew Spicer, “Rebuilding the Sacred Landscape: Orléans, 1560–1610”, in French History, 21, no. 3, 2007, pp. 247–68. 59 KAA, GL, 3, fol. 127–29. 60 KAA, GL, 9, fol. 284–52, fol. 115–16. 61 KAA, Reg, 206 (1604); KAA, GL, 3 (1635).

‘an d thus the b r ethren sha ll meet a ll tog ether’

5.5. Conclusion Hitherto, religious confraternities have been studied mainly from a religious perspective. Studies acknowledging the social functions of confraternities often started from a political perspective and concentrated on the pre- or postTridentine periods only. Most research was done on Northern Italy, leaving open the question of the influence of the Renaissance and Catholic Reformation in other parts of Europe. This chapter has looked at the way in which the population of Antwerp participated in religious confraternity life in the long fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The Antwerp confraternities appeared to be varied, with many guilds, each with its own characteristics. Nevertheless, some clear conclusions can be drawn. In the fifteenth century, the Antwerp confraternities were close associations of men and women meeting for religious and social activities on a regular basis. Not all groups were open to everyone. Costs linked to membership excluded the less well-off. Some confraternities, such as that of the Laud of Our Lady, therefore, had a very elitist character, but others, such as the guild of St Anthony, also recruited from the middle classes. All members participated actively and equally. The masters carried out daily administration, but all members could vote in elections and on important decisions. Although additional research on public processions is needed, the emphasis seems to have been on private activities for the guild’s own group, formulated in a discourse of brotherhood ideals. In the course of the sixteenth century, however, these ideals came under pressure. All pre-Tridentine confraternities became more exclusive. Already at the beginning of the sixteenth century, women were excluded as active members and entry fees were increasing substantially. Internal relations changed too. The confraternities of the Holy Cross, St Hubert, and probably also the Sweet Name of Jesus, from their start small, elitist, and closed, continued to be a small, close group with general and high participation. But in the other confraternities, especially those of the Laud of Our Lady and St Anthony, this was not the case. Expenditure on social activities such as meals increased, but this did not foreshadow more active participation. From the 1540s onwards, an increasing distinction was made between ordinary members and (old) masters. Only serving and old masters continued to participate actively in all activities. The role of common members in both activities and decision-making decreased. Administration was increasingly oligarchic and the group broke up into an active core and a passive group. After 1585, when the Catholic Reformation started fully to affect Antwerp society, this evolution towards elitarisation and hierarchisation continued. Next to this, some of these confraternities started to manifest themselves more strongly in the public sphere, in the form of processions, high masses, and devotional prints. The nine confraternities investigated reacted in many different ways to the religious, social, and demographic transformations of the sixteenth century. However, they all had in common that they became more exclusive. A first group

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of guilds became very closed, but continued to require the active participation of all members. A second group acted in exactly the opposite way, forming an active core next to a passive group, thus internally becoming more exclusive but acting more in public at the same time. The participation of common members and the larger public was, however, passive and non-committal. A straight distinction between closed-active pre-Tridentine confraternities at the one hand and open-passive post-Tridentine ones at the other, as is described for other regions,62 thus holds true only partially: some pre-Tridentine confraternities acted in between the two. A same evolution of elitarisation, hierarchisation, and evolution from active-private to public-passive participation has been observed in Southern Europe and elsewhere in the Low Countries as well.63 But contrary to what has been assumed, this research shows that evolutions were already in motion from the first half of the sixteenth century, at a moment before Catholic Reformation could be of great influence. Catholic Reformation seems to be a reinforcing factor, but cannot be the only cause. Other typically Italian or Southern-European phenomena such as a strong oligarchisation of politics and a declining economy too cannot give a definite answer. What, then, was causing this general European evolution? The explanation has to be sought partly outside the Catholic Reformation and the specific Italian political and economic context, but also outside other strictly religious reformations, since the Protestant Reformation seems to have been of little influence too. The exclusion of women started long before the Reformation started, and on meals and membership numbers too it had little influence. What is more, it was recently discovered that in craft guilds a similar evolution occurred in the long sixteenth century.64 The decreasing brotherhood ideal could be a result of the fast demographic growth in Antwerp, that could have led to a feeling of alienation. But this demographic growth did not occur in other regions with a same pattern of decreasing active participation and brotherhood ideals, such as Northern Italy or the Aarschot region in the Low Countries.65

62 Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital?”. 63 E.g. Andrew Barnes, “Religious Anxiety and Devotional Change in Sixteenth-Century French Penitential Confraternities”, in The Sixteenth Century Journal, 19, no. 3, 1988, pp. 389–406; Barnes, The Dimension of Piety; Black, Italian Confraternities; Black, “The Public Face”; Black & Gravestock, Early Modern Confraternities; Donnely & Maher, Confraternities and Catholic Reform; Mackenney, “Public and private”; Poska, “From Parties to Pieties”; Terpstra, Lay Confraternities; Terpstra, The politics; Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital?”; Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood. 64 See especially chapter 4 by Bert De Munck in this volume. Also Bert De Munck, “Fiscalizing solidarity (from below). Poor relief in Antwerp guilds: between community building and public service”, in Serving the Urban Community. The Rise of Public Facilities in the Low Countries, eds Manon Van der Heijden et al., Amsterdam, 2009, pp. 168–93; Bert De Munck, “From brotherhood community to civil society? Apprentices between guild, household and the freedom of contract in early modern Antwerp”, in Social History, 35, no. 1, 2010, pp. 1–20. 65 F. I. Black, Italian Confraternities in the Sixteenth Century, Cambridge, 1989; Van Dijck, “Bonding or bridging social capital?”.

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Probably, the explanation is to be sought in a broad set of religious, political, and social circumstances, in various regions leading to a new community ideal that was more oligarchic and hierarchical. Certainly in a fast growing town such as Antwerp, social polarisation could have had a hand in this, with a growing income gap reflected in the gap within guilds on the one hand and from exclusive guilds towards society at large at the other.66 As this research indicates, there was a broad European renewal in thinking about community that perhaps could be called a European Renaissance, starting in Italy but equally occurring in other parts of Europe, perhaps first in trade towns such as Antwerp, that had a firm intellectual and commercial link with the Italian elite. With this, the story has not been completely investigated, but the Antwerp confraternities surely bring us one step closer to the understanding of the role of associational life in medieval and early modern European society.

66 Hugo Soly, “Social Relations in Antwerp in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries”, in Antwerp, Story of a Metropolis. 16th-17th Century, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Antwerp, 1993, pp. 37–46.

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A Renaissance Republic? Antwerp’s urban militia, “the military Renaissance” and structural changes in warfare, c. 1566–c. 1621 6.1. Introduction According to Lodovico Guicciardini, writing in the 1560s, “la potestà & l’armi” (the power and the arms) in the city of Antwerp belonged to the “popolo” (the common people).1 Antwerp’s arms – its urban militia – consisted of the civic guard (burgerwacht) Guicciardini is specifically referring to here, and the six elite militia guilds (schuttersgilden). Originally Antwerp’s sovereign lord, the Duke of Brabant, could call upon his urban militias for offensive warfare, but by the thirteenth century only helping in the defence of the Duchy was obligatory (the heervaart). The Dukes of Brabant – after the death of the Burgundian Duke Charles the Bold in 1477 the title passed to the Habsburgs – preferred to receive money to hire professional soldiers, generally referred to as mercenaries.2 This was a process of slow and gradual professionalisation of the military that can be seen in the context of the process of “state building”, in the sense of the growth of princely power and authority, which clashed with the privileges and customs of provinces and towns. The sixteenth century saw a steady decline in urban independence. The local craft guilds were increasingly denied a role in politics. War in the sixteenth century came to be waged by princes on an ever larger scale with professional, hired troops. For instance, during the Habsburg-Valois wars expenditure on war in the Low Countries in the 1550s alone more than doubled. One estimate from 1557 deemed 52,000 troops necessary for that year, probably more than the Netherlands had ever before required.3 By the seventeenth century 1 Lodovico Guicciardini, Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi, altrimenti detti Germania inferior, Antwerp, 1567, p. 190. In the Dutch version Beschrijvinghe van alle de Neder-landen; anderssins ghenoemt NederDuytslandt, Amsterdam, 1612; facsimile, Amsterdam, 1968: “de macht ende wapen” belonged to “het ghemeyn volck”, p. 74. 2 Sergio Boffa, Warfare in Medieval Brabant, 1356–1406, Woodbridge and Rochester NY, 2004, pp. 71, 134–7, 146–7, 152–5, 204, 223. 3 James D. Tracy, The Founding of the Dutch Republic. War, Finance, and Politics in Holland, 1572–1588, Oxford, 2008, pp. 31–2, 37–38; Steven Gunn, David Grummitt & Hans Cools, War, State, and Society in England and the Netherlands, 1477–1559, Oxford, 2007, pp. 80–2, 161–3, 288–9. Projected troop strength 1557, Brussels, Algemeen Rijksarchief (ARAB), Duitse Staatssecretarie (DSS) 112, fol. 39r–40v; cf. fol. 78r–80r. Bart Willems, “Militaire organisatie en staatsvorming aan de vooravond van de Nieuwe Tijd. Een analyse van het conflict tussen Brabant en Maximiliaan van Oostenrijk (1488–1489)”, in Jaarboek voor Middeleeuwse geschiedenis, 1, Hilversum, 1998, pp. 261–2, 265; Guido Marnef, “Resistance and the celebration of privileges in sixteenth-century Brabant”, in Public Opinion and Changing Identities in the Early Modern Netherlands. Essays in Honour of Alistair Erik Swart • DFG Collaborative Research Centre/Transregio 138 “Dynamics of Security. Types of Securitization from a Historical Perspective” at Justus-Liebig-Universität. Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 131–152.

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Antwerp’s militia guilds, which also served as police and had important social and religious functions, had become marginal to warfare. Current opinion is that they were now above all social and religious confraternities. These developments have been positioned within the framework of a much debated and contested “Military Revolution” in Early Modern Europe, which from the mid to late fifteenth century also involved the introduction of more mobile and potent artillery, the proliferation of more effective portable infantry firearms and, to counter the improved artillery, the spread of a new method of fortification originating in Italy (the trace italienne).4 The idea has now dissolved into either a number of smaller revolutions or become one so compound and enduring that it is difficult to connect specific political changes to it. War did not contribute to state-building in a simple manner, but clearly was a stimulus for creating military and fiscal institutions more like those of today than those of the Middle Ages. It also legitimised rulers’ attempts to extend their influence in their subjects’ lives, although – in some polities more than others – the administration of justice, social welfare and religion also played a role in this.5 In the mutation of the notion of a “Military Revolution” some historians made room for “the Renaissance”, especially the humanist aspect of it, in holding up Classical Antiquity as an example and ideal. In doing so they probably contributed to the problems and confusion surrounding the idea of a Renaissance.6 This was not the case with John Rigby Hale in his War and society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620 from 1985, who makes a few references to classical influence in the sixteenth century, but makes no structural connection between the Renaissance and military developments.7 French historian Frédérique Verrier in 1997 coined the concept of “Humanisme militaire”, denoting the structural application of humanist values in a military context in Italy up to circa 1550. Verrier suggests that the cult of Antiquity, vulgarised by humanism, won over the military and provided the ideological framework for technical and moral change, both in theory and practice. The printed means for this were histories, biographies and military treatises. Military men used humanist culture to innovate in the guise of a “renaissance” of Classical Antiquity. American historian Thomas F.

Duke, eds Judith Pollmann & Andrew Spicer, Leiden and Boston, 2007, p. 125; Maarten Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias in late medieval and early modern Europe”, in Past and Present, no. 228, 2015, pp. 94–6. 4 Geoffrey Parker, The Military Revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the West, 1500–1800, 2nd edition, Cambridge, 2000; Jeremy Black, A Military Revolution? Military Change and European Society, 1550–1800, Basingstoke, 1991; Clifford J. Rogers (ed.), The Military Revolution Debate. Readings on the Military Transformation of Early Modern Europe, Boulder, 1995; William Caferro, Contesting the Renaissance, Chichester, 2011, pp. 163–6. 5 Steven Gunn, “War and the emergence of the state: western Europe, 1350–1600”, in European Warfare, 1350–1750, eds Frank Tallett & D. J. B. Trim, Cambridge, 2010, pp. 50, 71–2. Also see in the same volume Ronald G. Asch, “War and state-building”, pp. 322–37; Jeremy Black, War in European History, 1494–1660, Washington DC, 2006, pp. 9–14, 27–31. 6 See chapter 1 in this volume. 7 John R. Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620, London, 1985, pp. 39, 56, 165–6, 173–5. Cf. Caferro, Contesting, pp. 21–2, 24.

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Arnold extended Verrier’s concept into “a military Renaissance” across Europe, in which sixteenth-century military experts rethought and remade the art of war as a result of “the deep Renaissance habit of rethinking anything and everything”.8 Neither Verrier nor Arnold provides an explicit link between their ideas and state-building. Here civic humanism, in which active participation in government was linked to a duty to bear arms, is of interest. The need for a militia of citizens and a dislike of mercenaries was voiced by, amongst many others, Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527), who in the sixteenth century enjoyed considerable status as a theorist on military matters. He stated that good arms would lead to good laws, since military service made citizens virtuous.9 Until seventeenth-century English authors applied these notions to large territorial states, these ideas were always expressed in an urban context. The urban militia was an expression and guarantor of urban liberty laid down in privileges, the (foreign) mercenaries were agents of tyranny. Such thoughts were certainly voiced in the sixteenth-century Low Countries as well.10 In fact, with the demise of the independent city states in Italy – except for Venice – and the lessening importance of German independent cities, the ideals of sixteenth-century civic humanism mainly survived in the Netherlands, expressed in for instance texts, architecture, painting and tapestries.11 The object of this contribution is twofold. Firstly, to trace and analyse the development of Antwerp’s urban militia between circa 1566–1621 in relation to growing princely authority, the expanding scale of warfare and the increased importance of gunpowder weaponry. Secondly, to trace any Classical influence therein and see if it can be linked to “a military Renaissance” and civic humanism. Where and 8 Frédérique Verrier, Les armes de Minerve. L’Humanisme militaire dans l’Italie du XVIe siècle, Paris, 1997, pp. 32–36, 227; Thomas F. Arnold, “War in sixteenth-century Europe: Revolution and Renaissance”, in European Warfare, 1453–1815, ed. Jeremy Black, Basingstoke and New York, 1999, pp. 37–8, 41–3; Black, The Renaissance at War, London, 2001, pp. 19 (quote); David Potter, Renaissance France at War. Armies, Culture and Society, c. 1480–1560, Woodbridge, 2008, p. 334. Also Peter Burke, The European Renaissance. Centres and Peripheries, Oxford, 1998, p. 200. 9 Sidney Anglo, Machiavelli – The First Century. Studies in Enthusiasm, Hostility, and Irrelevance, Oxford, 2005, pp. 30–33; John R. Hale, “War and public opinion in Renaissance Italy”, in Renaissance War Studies, ed. John R. Hale, London, 1983, pp. 384–85; Michael Mallett, “The theory and practice of warfare in Machiavelli’s republic”, in Machiavelli and Republicanism, eds Gisela Bock, Quentin Skinner & Maurizio Viroli, Cambridge, 1990, pp. 174, 177–80; Prak, “Citizens, soldiers, and civic militias”, pp. 97–98. 10 Hale, War and Society, pp. 200–01, 249–50; Jan Metzger, Die Milizarmee im klassischen Republikanismus. Die Odyssee eines militärpolitischen Konzeptes von Florenz über England und Schottland nach Nordamerika (15.-18. Jahrhundert), Bern, Stuttgart and Vienna, 1999, pp. 64–65, 79–80, 83–88, 135–36; Karin Tilmans, “Republican citizenship and civic humanism in the Burgundian-Habsburg Netherlands (1477–1566)”, in Republicanism. A Shared European Heritage I Republicanism and Constitutionalism in Early Modern Europe, eds Martin van Gelderen & Quentin Skinner, Cambridge, 2002, pp. 110–11, 116, 121, 123; Martin van Gelderen, “The Machiavellian moment and the Dutch Revolt: the rise of Neostoicism and Dutch republicanism”, Ibidem, pp. 219–20; Peter J. Arnade, Beggars, Iconoclasts, and Civic Patriots. The Political Culture of the Dutch Revolt, Ithaca and London, 2008, p. 215; Prak, “Citizens, soldiers, and civic militias”, pp. 98–99. 11 Burke, The European Renaissance, p. 158; Arnade, Beggars, pp. 6, 8–9; B. Ann Tlusty, The Martial Ethic in Early Modern Germany. Civic Duty and the Right of Arms, Basingstoke and New York, 2011; Prak, “Citizens, soldiers, and civic militias”, pp. 99–102.

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why were humanistic, classical references used in a military context, in describing the armed power of Antwerp? In the confines of this article it is impossible to deal with the sixteenth century in its entirety. The fragmentary nature of the remaining sources only adds to this. This article therefore focuses on a time when there was a clear confrontation with and intervention by the princely government. The first paragraph deals with the period from 1566 to 1585, the first phase of the Dutch Revolt, which saw Antwerp resist and rebel against the centralising policies of its prince underpinned by professional soldiers. The second investigates the development of the urban militia in reconciled and Catholic Antwerp after 1585. 6.2. The period of the Dutch Revolt, 1566–1585 As lord of the Low Countries, King Philip II (1527–1598) continued the centralising policies of his predecessors. From circa 1560 tension and resistance to these were aggravated by the king’s strict laws against what he saw as heresy. There was opposition among the nobility, but also in the cities. Antwerp’s political elite used the classics as an expression of their will to defend her privileges. The clerical and lay elites and emancipated middle classes of the city were very open to the influence of the “Renaissance” and humanism. Humanism, in fact, dominated cultural life. This had been particularly apparent in the imagery used in the Joyous Entries, which inaugurated their sovereign’s rule over the city. Here the use of, for instance, triumphal arches inspired by Roman exempla was commonplace.12 There was also an enormous expansion of education in sixteenth-century Antwerp and the city became a major international production centre for books, dominating the Netherlands’ book market. Editions of classical works often referred to in matters of war and the merits of militia versus mercenaries were published too. For instance, Livy’s work on Roman history was published in Antwerp in 1519, Caesar’s works appeared in 1538 and 1551, Vegetius’ book on war in 1525.13 Antwerp’s new town hall, constructed in 1561–1565 and built in the Italian and classical style, was decorated with a triumphal arch and obelisks and proudly 12 Arnade, Beggars, pp. 31–8, 42, 283, 325; Martha Pollak, Cities at War in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge, 2010, pp. 238–40, 244–65; Jac Geurts, “Een jaar vol intochten, feesten, propaganda en spektakel. De rondreis van kroonprins Filips door de Nederlanden in 1549”, in Propaganda en spektakel: vroegmoderne intochten en festiviteiten in de Nederlanden, eds Joop W. Koopmans & Werner Thomas, Maastricht, 2009, pp. 41–4; James K. Cameron, “Humanism in the Low Countries”, in The Impact of Humanism on Western Europe, eds Anthony Goodman & Angus MacKay, London and New York, 1990, pp. 144–5, 151, 153, 159, 163. 13 Guido Marnef, Antwerp in the Age of Reformation. Underground Protestantism in a Commercial Metropolis, 1550–1577, Baltimore – London, 1996, pp. 6–12, 28–29, 33–9; Andrew Pettegree & Malcolm Walsby (eds), Netherlandish Books. Books Published in the Low Countries and Dutch Books Published Abroad before 1601, Leiden, 2011, pp. 280, 846, 1324; Christopher Allmand, “The De re militari of Vegetius in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance”, in Writing War: Medieval Literary Responses to Warfare, eds Corinne Saunders, Françoise Le Saux & Neil Thomas, Cambridge, 2004, pp. 15–28; Philippe Richardot, “L’influence de De re militari de Végèce sur la pensée militaire du XVIe siècle”, at: http://www.institut-strategie.fr/strat_060_Richardot.html (9th December 2016).

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sported the letters “SPQA”. Thus Antwerp, to demonstrate its political power to the outside world, like many other cities at the time proclaimed itself a new Rome.14 Nearly simultaneously Guicciardini contended that Antwerp practically governed itself and approached Polybios’ ideal republic, being a balance of monarchy, aristocracy and democracy: the prince had his “imperio”, the aristocrats their “autorità” and the common people had “la potestà & l’armi”. In 2009 Guido Marnef stated that Antwerp can be considered a respublica mixta under a lord. At the time respublica quite simply meant “commonwealth” and there was no question of Antwerp wanting to do away with its lord.15 Antwerp’s magistrate managed to keep the mercenaries out in the first years of Philip II’s rule. The events of 1555 had probably pressed home the widespread notion that they were a threat to the liberty of cities. In this year dissatisfied members of Antwerp’s middling classes had successfully incited the poor to rebel against the magistrate. The civic guard, mobilised because of war with the French, had mutinied. The militia guilds had remained loyal to the authorities but were too small in number to make a difference. In 1555 Emperor Charles V redressed matters with the aid of a regiment of German professionals, perhaps 4000 men strong. Antwerp’s political elite may have been pleased with their lord’s intervention, but he also curbed the city’s privileges. Superintendence of the guard, and hence the urban militia, was given to the margrave, contrary to “costuyme”, as the magistrate would later claim. With a new ordinance for the civic guard, the emperor sought to exclude the most (potentially) unruly elements and place it under the tight control of people that he believed would be loyal to him: the well-to-do and the political elite.16 In 1587 disgruntled Antwerp citizens would word succinctly that “de vrempde soldaten […] altyt vijanden

14 Marnef, Antwerp, pp. 14, 19–22; Burke, The European Renaissance, pp. 116–7. Cf. Guy Wells, “Emergence and evanescence: republicanism and the res publica at Antwerp before the Revolt of the Netherlands”, in Republiken und Republikanismus im Europa der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Helmut Koenigsberger, Munich, 1988, pp. 158. 15 Guicciardini, Descrittione, p. 90; Beschrijvinghe, p. 74; Burke, The European Renaissance, p. 117; Van Gelderen, “The Machiavellian moment”, p. 223; Guido Marnef, “The process of political change under the Calvinist Republic in Antwerp (1577–1585)”, in Des villes en révolte: Les “républiques urbaines” aux Pays-Bas et en France pendant la deuxième moitié du XVIe siècle, ed. Monique Weis, Turnhout, 2009, p. 33; Philip Benedict, “Concluding remarks ‘Calvinist Republics’? The beggars in the bonnes villes of Flanders and Brabant”, Ibidem, p. 93. 16 Chronycke van Antwerpen sedert het jaer 1500 tot 1575 etc., Antwerpen, 1843, pp. 11–12, 22–3, 48–9; Hugo Soly, Urbanisme en kapitalisme te Antwerpen in de 16de eeuw. De stedebouwkundige en industriële ondernemingen van Gilbert van Schoonbeke, Brussels, 1977, pp. 275–6, 279–80; Floris Prims, Geschiedenis van Antwerpen, 6–1, Antwerp, 1938, pp. 159–61, 162–4, 165–6; Marnef, Antwerp, p. 27; Josse De Weert, “Chronycke van Nederlant, besonderlyck der stadt van Antwerpen, sedert den jaere 1097 tot den jaere 1565”, in Chroniques de Brabant et de Flandre, ed. Charles Piot, Brussels, 1897, pp. 134–5; René Boumans, “De getalsterkte van katholieken en protestanten te Antwerpen in 1585”, in Belgisch tijdschrift voor filologie en geschiedenis, 30, 1952, p. 744; Koen Wouters, “Een open oligarchie? De machtsstructuur in de Antwerpse magistraat in de periode 1520–1555”, in Belgisch tijdschrift voor filologie en geschiedenis, 82, 2004, pp. 911–2.

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vande borgerye zyn”; protecting and guarding themselves was a strongly valued privilege.17 The mounting tensions came to a head in 1566, during the so-called Wonder Year. After the Petition signed by a large number of the lower nobility, the governess-general Margaret of Parma (1522–1586), the king’s half-sister, promised moderation of the prosecution of Protestants. Calvinists now began to preach and pray openly in the open air outside the city walls (hedge-preaching). Antwerp had the largest Calvinist congregation in the Netherlands. William of Orange was de facto governor here; it was he who gave the password to the guard.18 In order to maintain the peace Orange broadly consulted the political elite, but also the six militia guilds. In July 1566 they rejected a proposal by the prince and the magistrate to raise a number of volunteer units who would take over guard duty. These “soudenieren”, as they called them, would have to be paid by the citizens. Guard duty belonged to the citizens and the six guilds, as had been the case “in alle periculeuse tyden”. The militia guilds repeated the classic argument against mercenaries: citizens were better because they had more to lose; “soudenieren” had nothing to lose.19 It seems the civic guard was indeed mobilised to maintain order; an ordinance on the guard of 13 August 1566 mentions that they should form “rotten” of ten men under a “tiendeman”, with three carrying firearms, three pikes and four “ander lanck geweer”. They were to guard the gates, the militia guilds were to take post at the town hall.20 Seven days later the wave of iconoclasm that raced across the Low Countries reached Antwerp. The magistrate was loath to use violence against image breakers and the urban militia, crucially, did nothing. After this Orange still raised eight companies of volunteers (stadsknechten), against the will of Antwerp’s political elite and the urban militia. They initially seem to have taken over the guard completely, but from November they shared guard duties with the urban militia.21 The problem here was that Orange and the magistrate probably did not entirely trust the urban militia, since it undoubtedly contained Calvinists, even the six guilds; at least one guild member (a Halberdier) was later executed for carrying an arquebus in Calvinist service. Simultaneously, many in Antwerp may 17 Marnef, Antwerp, p. 22; Hale, War and Society, pp. 197–8. Request 15th June 1587: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4810. For similar sentiments in Paris see Robert Descimon, “Milice bourgeoise et identité citadine à Paris au temps de la Ligue”, in Annales ESC, 48, 1993, p. 900. 18 Olaf Mörke, Wilhelm von Oranien (1533–1584). Fürst und “Vater” der Republik, Stuttgart, 2007, p. 102. Undated document on guard: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4810. Marnef, Antwerp, p. 19; Guido Marnef, “The towns and the revolt”, in The Origins and Development of the Dutch Revolt, ed. Graham Darby, London and New York, 2001, pp. 92–93. 19 Chronycke, p. 75; Marnef, Antwerp, pp. 88–90. Six guilds to Orange and magistrate, 27th July 1566: De correspondentie van Willem van Oranje (WVO) nr. 8387, 3–6-2011. URL: http://www.inghist.nl/ Onderzoek/Projecten/WVO/brief/8387. August Buck, “Machiavellis Dialog über die Kriegskunst”, in Krieg und Frieden im Horizont des Renaissancehumanismus, ed. Franz Josef Worstbrock, Weinheim, 1986, pp. 10–1. 20 Ordinance of 13th August 1566: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. Chronycke, p. 81. 21 Chronycke, pp. 89, 92–93. De kroniek van Godevaert van Haecht over de troebelen van 1565 tot 1574 te Antwerpen en elders, ed. Robert van Roosbroeck, vol. 1, Antwerp, 1929, p. 124; vol. 2, Antwerp, 1933, p. 44.

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not have trusted Orange and feared a hard government crackdown for which the “stadsknechten” might be the tool.22 At a synod in Antwerp in November-December 1566 the Calvinists decided upon a policy of armed resistance. In March this ended in disaster when their troops were beaten at Oosterweel, outside Antwerp. Inside the city there was near civil war, with one chronicler reporting 10,000 Calvinists in arms facing a near equal number, including the loyal members of the militia and the “stadsknechten”. The Calvinists seem to have formed their own civic guard, appointing captains, “hundred-men” and “ten-men”. They had to back down though, and many fled the city. Orange, already marked as an opponent of the king, had been far more lenient towards the Calvinists than the government had allowed for and fled to Germany in April 1567.23 The central government now cracked down on the rebels, especially once Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of Alba (1507–1582), had arrived at the head of 10,000 Spanish crack troops. Antwerp’s privileges were severely curtailed. It got a garrison of mercenaries, first Walloons – soldiers recruited from the French-speaking Netherlands –, then Germans and also Spaniards. Antwerp was effectively disarmed and stripped of any military force. The government superintendent, first Count Peter Ernst of Mansfelt (1517–1604), then Count Alberico de Lodron (1509–1572), colonel of a German regiment, gave the watchword; both had far-reaching judicial and administrative powers. The mercenaries took over all guard duties; the stadsknechten were dismissed. The militia guilds were not allowed to wear arms and armour when taking part in processions or festivities. Alba had a citadel built for 800,000 florins at Antwerp’s expense. Then the city’s entire military equipment was confiscated and moved there. In 1569 and 1572 this may have been used to equip Spaniards and Walloons. In 1572 it appears the six guilds were still doing guard duty at the town hall and the market.24 The discrepancy in military power between city and state, already apparent in 1555 if not earlier, was now even more pronounced. One chronicler suggests that Antwerp saw constant fights and friction between soldiers and locals and he complains that the soldiers remained unpunished, stating that one soldier obtained more credence than ten citizens. Relations with the Germans were possibly better than with the Walloons and Spaniards, but these were nevertheless derogatorily called “dese Duytsche mofmaffen”; children called 22 Chronycke, p. 85. De kroniek, vol. 1, p. 124; vol. 2, p. 42. Eugeen Van Autenboer, “De Schuttersgilden uit het oude hertogdom Brabant en de Contrareformatie”, in Liber amicorum Dr J. Scheerder. Tijdingen uit Leuven over de Spaanse Nederlanden, de Leuvense universiteit en historiografie, eds A. Jans et al., Leuven, 1987, pp. 88–9. 23 Chronycke, pp. 116–17, 120–21. De kroniek, vol. 1, pp. 188–93, 195–202; Marnef, “The towns”, pp. 94–5; Mörke, Wilhelm, pp. 127–9, 132–4. 24 Undated document on guard: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4810. De kroniek, vol. 1, pp. 215, 223, 230; vol. 2, pp. 20, 29, 52, 91, 96, 99, 133, 185, 211; Marnef, “Resistance”, p. 127; Hugo Soly, “De bouw van de Antwerpse citadel (1567–1571). Sociaal-economische aspecten”, in Belgisch Tijdschrift voor Militaire Geschiedenis, 21, 1976, pp. 549–98; Piet Lombaerde, “Antwerp in its golden age: ‘one of the largest cities in the Low Countries’ and ‘one of the best fortified in Europe’”, in The Urban Achievement in Early Modern Europe. Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, eds Patrick O’Brien et al., Cambridge, 2001, p. 105.

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them that in the streets. From Antwerp’s perspective the loss of privileges had resulted in lawlessness and disorder. In 1574 mutinous Spanish soldiers held Antwerp to ransom, and the militia guilds and citizens did nothing; the pay-off was more than a million florins. In the same year, possibly as compensation, governor-general don Luis de Requesens (1528–1576) restored Antwerp’s privileges to the pre-1567 position.25 In 1576 the war effort against the rebels in Holland and Zeeland collapsed when the king’s soldiers mutinied over their arrears. Now the States-General convened and a general revolt in nearly all the Netherlands began. The cities began reasserting their privileges and autonomy, re-assessing their ties with their lord. Departure of the king’s mercenaries was a major demand. In November 1576 Spanish mutineers sacked Antwerp, killing 2500 people; the militia was never properly mobilised, perhaps because Antwerp had become accustomed to relying on professionals, now hired by the States-General.26 The States-General also appointed a superintendent of the guard in Antwerp, the Brabant nobleman Charles de Hannart, baron of Liedekercke (?-1578), but he had been nominated by the city. In August 1577 the garrison was expelled from the hated citadel and its walls facing the city demolished. In an engraving Liedekercke and two other native noblemen who had led the operation were hailed in the humanistic tradition as the three Horatii, the triplets who had saved Rome. Educated inhabitants might know them from Livy or perhaps Machiavelli’s Discorsi; in 1579 another edition of Livy’ work appeared in Antwerp.27 The wardmasters showed that the Italian’s work was known on the Scheldt when in a letter to the States of Brabant listing grievances they considered the abominable citadel “contrary […] to the Teaching of Machiavelli”.28 It suggests the wardmasters thought the States would know what they were referring to and might think it was a valid point. The citadel was much discussed and vilified in

25 De kroniek, vol. 1, pp. 216–17, 222–23, 224, 225, 227–28, 230, 241; vol. 2, pp. 19, 43, 74, 82, 108, 296–98, 308, 321; Marnef, “Resistance”, pp. 128–9, 135; Geoffrey Parker, The Army of Flanders and the Spanish Road, 1567–1659. The Logistics of Spanish Victory and Defeat in the Low Countries’ Wars, paperback, Cambridge, 2004, pp. 172–3, 253. Antwerp to governess-general, August 1567: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1586. Antwerp to Lodron, 31st March 1570: Ibidem. Antwerp to Lodron, 22nd September 1567: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1555. Documents on mutiny 1574: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1569. 26 Pieter Bor, Oorsprongk, begin, en vervolgh der Nederlandsche oorlogen, Amsterdam, 1679, book 9, pp. 730–31. Geoffrey Parker, The Dutch Revolt, revised edition, London, 2002, p. 178; Resolutiën der Staten-Generaal, vol. 1, 1576–1577 (RSG), ed. Nicolas Japikse, The Hague, 1915, p. 49. Documents on the sack of 1576: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1575. 27 RSG, vol. 1, pp. 372, 374, 456–57. Bor, Oorsprongk, book 9, pp. 853–55; Inge Bertels and Pieter Martens, “Defunct defenses. Antwerp’s sixteenth-century fortifications”, in Future anterior, 3, nr. 2, 2006, p. 48; Christiane Wiebel, Die Brüder Wierix. Graphik in Antwerpen zwischen Breugel und Rubens, Coburg, 1995, pp. 18, 20; Livy, Ab urbe condita, 1:24–26 or Machiavelli, Discorsi, book 1, chapter 22; Pettegree & Walsby, Netherlandish Books, p. 846; in 1578 another edition of Caesar was published, Ibidem, pp. 280–1. 28 “Contrarie […] de Leeringhe van Machiavelli.”, wardmasters to States of Brabant, April 1577: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 2439; this piece has been dated after a near identical letter from the crafts to the same, dated 25th April 1577, without the reference to Machiavelli. On the citadel also see Chapter 2 in this volume.

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Figure 6.1. Liedekercke, Bourse en Roeck hailed as the three Horatii for liberating Antwerp from the hated citadel in 1577, made in Antwerp in 1579. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-1950-70.

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the sixteenth century, and not just by Machiavelli. Citadels suggested the prince did not trust and love his subjects. They in return could not love and obey him and would attempt to escape the yoke. Declining trade and the mistreatment of citizens by soldiers were other effects attributed to citadels. Classical authors like Seneca had also condemned them.29 To many well-informed inhabitants of Antwerp all this probably seemed eerily relevant. It is undoubtedly in this light that the formation in December 1577 of a new civic guard composed of all citizens between the ages of 20 and 60 should be seen; they formed 80 companies of 200 men under eight colonels. Those exempt from serving, widows and unmarried women with their own households, paid a monthly contribution called “wachtgeld”. The prince of Orange may have been involved in the birth of this new civic guard. It can be seen as a modernisation and an attempt to create a more potent defensive force to shore up the new regime; in fact, around 1580 many rebellious Netherlands towns, often with Orange’s involvement, saw the formation of new civic guards. Company size and composition followed military developments and the civic guardsmen sported the latest in weapons and equipment. In Antwerp every “rot” of eleven men now contained eight firearms, two pikes and a halberd. Until it surrendered in 1585 Antwerp refused to accept a garrison of mercenaries.30 Antwerp’s six guilds continued to function alongside the civic guard, revitalised by an ordinance of August 1577. They too continued to follow military developments, containing 140 men each by 1583.31 The number of “wepelaers” allowed at this time is unclear. These were originally militia guild members who through “crancheyden van ouderdomme” were no longer able to discharge their duties, but allowed to stay on and still paid for the privilege; in their stead the guild could then accept someone new and fit. It was a sought-after position since in exchange for his 29 Anglo, Machiavelli, pp. 547–8; Seneca, De Clementia, I:xix.6; Simon Pepper, “Siege law, siege ritual, and the symbolism of city walls in Renaissance Europe”, in City Walls. The Urban Enceinte in Global Perspective, ed. James D. Tracy, Cambridge, 2000, pp. 589–93; J. R. Hale, “To fortify or not to fortify? Machiavelli’s contribution to a Renaissance debate”, in Hale, Renaissance War Studies, London, 1983, pp. 189–209; Idem, “The end of Florentine liberty: the Fortezza de Basso”, Ibidem, pp. 31–62. 30 Floris Prims, De kolonellen van de “Burgersche Wacht” te Antwerpen (december 1577-augustus 1585), Antwerp, 1942, pp. 23–30; Ordonnantie vander waken, ghemaeckt tot versekerheyt vanden Ingesetenen deser Stadt. Ghepubliceert den twelfsten dach Decembris. 1577, Antwerp, 1577, and Nieuwe Ordinantie vander Wacht der stadt van Antwerpen gepubliceert den iiii. Novemb. M.D.LXXX., Antwerp, 1580: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. Magistrate of Amersfoort to Orange, 31th January 1579: WVO nr. 10753. “Ordtnung von der wacht und Schutzereij zu Amersforth”, 13 maart 1579: The Hague, Koninklijk Huisarchief (KHA), A 11/XII 5; Cornelis Jacob Sickesz, De schutterijen in Nederland, Utrecht, 1864, p. 74; Paul Knevel, Burgers in het geweer. Schutterijen in Holland, 1550–1700, Hilversum, 1994, pp. 96–7; Paul Knevel, “De kracht en de zenuwen van de Republiek. De schutterijen in Holland, 1580–1650”, in Schutters in Holland. Kracht en zenuwen van de stad, eds M. Carasso-Kok & J. Levy-van Halm, Zwolle – Haarlem, 1988, p. 37. 31 Ordonnantie op tstuck vander wacht vande Guldebroeders ende wepeleers vande sesse ghesworen Gulden der Stadt van Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1582, and decision of magistrate 5th March 1583: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4611; Marcel De Schrijver, “De Antwerpse schuttersgilden in de 16de eeuw”, in Leefgewoonten van de Antwerpse poorters in de 16de eeuw, eds Dirck Stoclet & Els Van Eecke, Antwerpen, 1985, p. 17.

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financial contribution the “wepelaer” enjoyed all the privileges of the guild and was relieved of certain burdens of citizenship and of the crafts, notably guard duty.32 It is very likely that there existed a notion of restoring virtue in the city, albeit not necessarily linked to Machiavelli. Virtue, after all, played a key role in civic humanism. There existed a widespread belief that political problems, wars and defeat in wars were caused by luxury and the resulting vices. It posited war as inevitable, necessary and cleansing, to restore the virtue lost through peace and prosperity. An English play from 1602, for instance, roundly suggested that the sack of 1576 had been due to decadence and the unwillingness of Antwerp’s citizens to defend themselves.33 The decision to arm some 16,000 citizens might imply a governo largo, the rule of many, and the new regime in Antwerp did indeed allow for broader participation in city government. The dominance of the traditional patrician political elite was broken; the majority of the magistrates were now Calvinist, university educated and often from the commercial classes. The years after 1579 saw a gradual radicalisation and Calvinist takeover of which the eight colonels, all wealthy merchants, were an important motor. The civic guard gave citizens the military power to support demands. There was no Calvinist monopoly though; in late 1585 only a third of the civic guard were Calvinist and 65 per cent of the six guilds. The political clout of the colonels made the wardmasters (wijkmeesters) unhappy. They had been the captains of the civic guard before December 1577. In March 1581 the wardmasters suggested abolishing the colonels and returning to the traditional civic guard, which had been approved by their ancestors, praised by foreigners and “even compared with the Roman and Lacedaemonian Republics”. The magistrate did not agree, but did bring the civic guard under control by replacing four of the colonels and taking a new oath. Perhaps it feared Machiavelli’s suggestion that the art of war “frequently enables ordinary citizens to become rulers”?34

32 Privilegeboek Oude Voetboog: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4624, fol. 28v–29r, 32r–32v, 41r–41v. Request of 28th November 1552: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4611. Anne Tayloe Woollett, The Altarpiece in Antwerp, 1554–1615: Painting and the Militia Guilds, unpublished PhD-dissertation, Columbia University 2004, pp. 21, 112; Nora De Poorter, “Rubens ‘onder de wapenen’. De Antwerpse schilders als gildebroeders van de kolveniers in de eerste helft van de 17de eeuw”, in Jaarboek van het Koninklijk Museum voor de Schone Kunsten Antwerpen, 1988, Antwerp, 1988, p. 212. 33 A Larum for London, or the Siedge of Antwerp, London, 1602, ed. John S. Farmer, facsimile; s.l., 1912; Paul A. Jorgensen, Shakespeare’s Military World, reprint, Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1973, pp. 170–207; Hale, War and Society, pp. 38–45. 34 Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4624, fo l. 28r–31v; Prims, Geschiedenis, 6–1, pp. 56–9; Wouters, “Een open oligarchie?”, pp. 933–4; Marnef, “The process”, pp. 29–30, 31–2; Prims, De kolonellen, pp. 5–8, 1601; Metzger, Die Milizarmee, p. 87; Boumans, “De getalsterkte”, pp. 744 (n. 2), 783–4, 790–1; Machiavelli, Il principe, chapter 14. Cf. Giovanni Silvano, “Florentine republicanism in the early sixteenth century”, in Machiavelli, eds Bock, Skinner & Viroli, pp. 58–9. Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias”, pp. 118–22.

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Figure 6.2. Entry of the Duke of Anjou in Antwerp, 19 February 1582. The civic guard is lining the road. Members of the militia guilds clad in red surround the Duke. Rijkmuseum, Amsterdam, SK-A-4867.

In these years Antwerp came close to being an independent republic, even maintaining its own navy.35 But even now it accepted a lord. After Philip II had been abjured in 1581 Antwerp accepted François, Duke of Anjou (1555–1584), brother of the French king, as sovereign.36 The city was at the heart of the Revolt and the focus of international attention. One contemporary Englishman called it “the very centre of all the concourse of Christendom […] where even the whole state of the Christian world, as in a theatre, is treated of, either directly or indirectly”.37 The internationally oriented Calvinists in particular looked to the Netherlands. This was for instance the case in the electorate of Cologne in 1581–1588. It was probably the magistrate of Bonn which stated that there were no better garrisons than in cities “von der reformirten religion”. These cities had civic guards which were better because they cost nothing and not like “den maercenarijs […] allein umbs gelts willenn thienen”. Some professionals were necessary to provide guidance, advice and training. The magistrate also wanted wooden guard houses like

35 “Rekeninghe vande Schepen van oorloghen voorde stat”: Antwerp, FelixArchief, R 1829; G. Asaert, “Een brug te veel. Antwerpens scheepsmacht tijdens het Parmabeleg, 1584–1585”, in Van Blauwe Stoep tot Citadel. Varia historica Brabantica nova Ludovico Pirenne dedicate, eds J. P. A. Coopmans & A. M. D. van der Veen, Den Bosch, 1988, pp. 129–40. 36 Antwerp to Anjou, 1st March 1582: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1555. 37 Calendar of State Papers, Foreign 1581–1582, ed. Arthur John Butler, London, 1907, p. 521.

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in Antwerp, “uff denen ecken da die gassen zu samen lauffen”.38 So it would seem that around 1580 the idea of a civic guard, as a trustworthy self-defence force, was particularly attractive for Calvinist cities. Antwerp engraver Abraham de Bruyn (1540–1587) helped spread the fame of the city’s civic guardsmen by including them in his 1581 volume on costumes of the world.39 The practical role for the urban militia was protecting Antwerp and its frontiers much as it had already done in, for instance, the 1480s; it had a purely defensive task.40 The city paid for the upkeep of garrisons of mercenaries and the construction and improvement of fortifications in towns – like Herentals – which protected its eastern, northern and southern flank; the western flank was protected by the river Scheldt.41 It conducted the musters of the units it paid.42 Some 60 members of the six guilds voluntarily served in the newly constructed sconce at Lillo in 1581–1584. The heaviest test for Antwerp’s urban militia came on 17 January 1583. In the so-called French Fury, Anjou, unhappy with the circumscriptions of his authority as lord, attempted to seize power by military force. Antwerp’s citizens beat Anjou’s professionals, shutting the Kipdorp Gate behind them. They killed around 1500 and took the same number of prisoners, for the loss of 80–100 of their own. The victory of the city’s arms, and demonstration of its citizens’ virtue, was celebrated on the gate with classical symbols: “SPQA” flanked by Roman armour, shields and fasces. Antwerp’s coat of arms was wreathed in laurel.43 The strategy that Governor-general Alessandro Farnese, prince (duke in 1586) of Parma (1545–1592) followed to retake the cities of Flanders and Brabant in the 1580s involved avoiding direct sieges, for which he had neither money nor manpower. Instead he generally cut off the cities from their hinterlands, raiding the countryside and blockaded them into submission. The rebellious cities did not cooperate well and were unable to provide their mercenaries with pay. The

38 “Memorial und verzeichnus etlicher Pfuncten welche in einer besatzung beneben andern in acht zu habenn”, 1583?: KHA A 11/XII 5. Emden may be another example: Heinz Schilling, Civic Calvinism in Northwestern Germany and the Netherlands, Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries, Ann Arbor, 1991, pp. 90–3. 39 The caption is in German and French, “Die Waffenen unde Kleijdung der Burgerey zu Antorff ” and “Les armes et habitz des Bourgeois danvers” Abraham de Bruyn, Omnium pene Europae, Asiae, Aphricae atque Americae gentium habitus, Antwerp, 1581. 40 Frederik Buylaert, Jan Van Camp & Bert Verwerft, “Urban militias, nobles and mercenaries. The organisation of the Antwerp army in the Flemish-Brabantine revolt of the 1480s”, in Journal of medieval military history, 9, 2011, pp. 146–66; Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias”, pp. 109–10. 41 Prims, De kolonellen, pp. 44, 72, 92, 196–98. Payment for military engineers who had worked on fortifications in Herentals, May-June 1579: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1576. Orange to Antwerp, 3rd August 1582: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1555 (WVO nr. 8372). Documents on paying garrison Herentals, April-May 1580: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 2413. “Collegiale actenboecken van 1577–1583”, in Antwerpsch archievenblad, 16, s.a., pp. 315–6. 42 Muster rolls from 1579: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1576. “Collegiale actenboecken van 1583–1585”, in Antwerpsch archievenblad, 6, s.a., p. 196. 43 De Schrijver, “De Antwerpse schuttersgilden”, pp. 17–18; Bor, Oorsprongk, book 17, pp. 343–6; Tayloe Woollett, The altarpiece, pp. 109–10 (n. 35, 40); Herman Van Goethem, Fotografie en realisme in de 19de eeuw: Antwerpen, de oudste foto’s, 1847–1880, Antwerp, 1999, p. 147 (nr. 67).

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Figure 6.3. Contemporary print showing Antwerp’s army in action during the French Fury, 17 January 1583. Note the flag bottom right bearing ‘SPQA’. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-OB-79.896.

end for Antwerp came in August 1585, after a relief attempt had failed.44 The civic guard was reportedly already severely under strength by February 1585 due to many people fleeing the beleaguered city. After Antwerp had surrendered there were 10,788 civic guardsmen out of a projected 16,000. The six guilds, filled by co-optation and more prestigious, were still nearly complete with 835 men present out of 840 at full strength.45 6.3. Antwerp reconciled and Catholic, 1585–1621 In hindsight the year 1585 marks the final victory of the central government. Parma left room for the cities’ privileges but the centre of power resided with the king and his government in Brussels. The States-General of the Habsburg Netherlands, with few exceptions, never reassembled. Antwerp’s citadel was restored and the city again got a military governor. The first was Frédéric ­Perrenot, lord of Champagney (1536–1602), already governor in 1571–1577. He was succeeded by Christóbal de Mondragon (1504–1596).46 New under the 44 Bor, Oorsprongk, book 20, pp. 595–601, 605–6, 610–3; Willems, “Militaire organisatie”, p. 282; Erik Swart, Krijgsvolk. Militaire professionalisering en het ontstaan van het Staatse leger, 1568–1590, Amsterdam, 2006, pp. 127–8. 45 Boumans, “De getalsterkte”, pp. 783, 790–1, 793; in 1582 there were 11,355 men in the civic guard and 961 in the six guilds. Jan Van Roey, “De ‘zuivering’ van de Antwerpse gewapende gilden na de val van de stad (17 augustus 1585)”, in Taxandria, 57, 1985, pp. 199, 201; Bertels & Martens, “Defunct defenses”, p. 48. “Collegiale actenboecken van 1583–1585”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, 6, pp. 42–3. 46 Marnef, “The towns”, p. 102. Mémoires de Frédéric Perrenot, sieur de Champagney, 1573–1590, ed. A. L. P. de Robaulx de Soumoy, Brussels, 1860, pp. ix, xviii, xxvii–xxviii, lxxiii, 75, 328–9. Ordinantie vande Wacht etc., Antwerp, 1586, by Champagney: FelixArchief, GA 4811. Bor, Oorsprongk, book 33, p. 167.

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governor was the sergeant-major or wachtmeester, first appointed in 1587 with the authority to command both garrison and citizens. He had two colleagues appointed by the city, who were clearly subordinate. The sergeant-major “commis par la cour” locked the city, presented the watchword to the guard room and, if he wanted, could do rounds. The other two gave the watchword to the margrave, sheriff, amman, the mayors and the companies on duty; rounds were obligatory day and night.47 The terms of surrender specified that Antwerp had to accept a garrison of 2000 infantry and two companies of cavalry. In March 1586 the garrison of Germans and Walloons, paid for by Antwerp, was mustered by Parma’s commissioners at 1791 soldiers.48 The mercenaries alone were not sufficient to defend Antwerp, so Parma demanded that the urban militia be cleansed of Calvinists. The Lutherans, who had already stood by the Catholics in 1566, could stay; without them there would otherwise quite simply not be enough manpower. Calvinist citizens could sell their belongings, settle their affairs and leave. By 1589 Antwerp’s population had dropped from circa 80,000 to 42,000, rising to just over 50,000 in 1600.49 An ordinance of 1586 states that the civic guard was weak and that, as under the Calvinists, all citizens between the ages of eighteen and 60 had to do guard duty. The wardmasters and hundred-men were to gather them, so there was a return to pre-1577 practice. Those not fit to serve and widows paid contribution instead. The citizens only performed guard duty at night, the king’s soldiers did it during the day.50 The civic guard remained weak, and after Parma withdrew the garrison, it was reconstituted in 1590 into thirty-two companies, each of which, according to the succeeding ordinance of 1607, was to be at least ninety men strong. Between 1605 and 1614 there was also no government sergeant-major. The two from the city fulfilled his duties.51 This indicates that the central government trusted Antwerp. Now that the “heretics” had gone, it was a loyal and Catholic city. The six guilds were reformed as early as September-October 1585. The oath of members now entailed swearing that they were Catholic and would uphold and defend the religion. The militia guilds became key defenders of the orthodox order and a bastion against heresy. The public expression of their status and

47 Decision of Parma 1st December 1587, undated document on tasks of wachtmeesters, and “Memorie op tstuck van het wachtmeesterschap der stadt van Antwerpen”, all in: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4810. The city’s two sergeant-majors may date from earlier: La joyeuse & magnifique entrée de Monseigneur Francoys, fils de France, et frère unique du Roi, par la grâce de Dieu duc de Brabant, d’Anjou, Alençon, Berry, etc. en sa très renommée ville d’Anvers, Antwerp, 1582, p. 24. 48 Pay and musters: Antwerp, FelixArchief, PK 1581, fol. 36r–36v, 37v, 146v–147r. Article 25 of the capitulation, Bor, Oorsprongk, book 20, pp. 612-3. 49 Boumans, “De getalsterkte”, pp. 745–50, 795–6; Van Roey, “De ‘zuivering’”, pp. 200–2, 205–6; Marnef, “The towns”, pp. 85, 103. 50 Ordinantie vande Wacht etc., Antwerp, 1586 of 31st October 1586, following articles dated 8th February 1586: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. 51 “Ordonnance sur le faict de la garde de la bourgeoisie de la ville d’Anvers”, 22nd May 1590 and Ordonnantie op’t stuck vande Borgherlijcke Wachte der Stadt van Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1607: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. Decree of the archdukes Albrecht and Isabella, 19th July 1608 and undated document on sergeant-major: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4810.

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ambition was now even more important than before. The six guilds, for instance, competed in the decoration of their new or refurbished altars in the cathedral of Our Lady.52 This points to the success of the Counterreformation in Antwerp. The general impression is that the urban militia in the period up to 1621 continually weakened; anyone who could attempted to escape guard duty. Some had always been completely exempt from doing guard duty, notably the clergy and those in the magistrate or central government. Others, such as those unfit or widows, paid a contribution.53 But it seems now many more citizens claimed exemption. In the first half of the seventeenth century the civic guard comprised around 7500 men out of a total population of circa 55,000. However, in 1612 for instance, only 3162 men were “wakende mannen”, another 1958 were “ronders” and 2350 were noted as “vrij bequaem ter wapenen”, suggesting that fewer than half of the civic guardsmen did actual guard duty. Since 1607 civic guard captains had been allowed to accept “huerlinghen”, replacements who were obviously not citizens and paid for their service.54 At the same time the militia guilds kept growing without permission from the central government, as did the number of “wepelaers”; in 1612 the six guilds had 1161 members. For the distinguished citizens they were an escape route, because the six guilds were “non subiectes a la garde ordinaire, ains seulement a certaine autre sorte de garde de peu d’Incommodite, et dont le tour ne revient que de mois a autre”. A decree from 1602 shows they did not even observe the regulations on the number of members to be posted at night at the town hall (fifty men) and the different gates (in total thirty-six).55 The militia guilds were increasingly becoming prestigious, purely representative societies, which got their revenue from selling freedom of guard duty. For the latter the status of “wepelaer” was particularly desirable. These provided the militia guilds with extra income to spend on display and ostentation. The guild of the Arquebusiers spent more than 11,000 florins on a new altar, consecrated in 1614.56 It seems that for many in Antwerp guarding and protecting the city with arms was no longer a privilege but an onerous duty. The actual bearing of arms for the city fell on anyone without the means or connections to escape it, probably mostly the lower classes. This in turn reinforced the trend further because respectable citizens would not want to serve with them. Indicative of this is the problem with the confraternity “du salve de nostre dame en l’eglise cathedrale”, 52 Tayloe Woollett, The altarpiece, pp. 21–2, 112–3, 286–8. Decree 8th October 1585: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4611. 53 Ordonnantie, Antwerp, 1577: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811 (articles 25–26). Nieuwe Ordinantie, Antwerp, 1580, Ibidem (articles 3–4). Ordinantie, Antwerp, 1586, Ibidem (articles 2–3). Ordonnantie, Antwerp, 1607, Ibidem (articles 1–4). 54 Boumans, “De getalsterkte”, pp. 792–3 (n. 2). “Somier” of muster in 1612: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4827. Ordonnantie, Antwerp, 1607: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811 (articles 12, 15). 55 “Points du reglement nouveau de leurs Al.zes qui se pourra dresser au faict de la garde de la ville d’Anvers”, probably 1617: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. Decree 4th February 1602: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4611. 56 De Poorter, “Rubens ’onder de wapenen’”, pp. 203–5, 213–4, 216–7, 220–1, 223–5, 232–3; Tayloe Woollett, The altarpiece.

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which according to the central government wrongfully considered itself free from guard duty, “non sans prejudice d’Icelle, pour y avoir en lad confrairie bon nombre de jeusnes hommes riches et fort capables a porter les armes, et a deservir les charges de chefz desdictz trente deux compagnies bourgeoises, dont aucunes sont maintenant pourveues de capitaines de si basse qualite, que plusieurs d’entre les bons bourgeois en prennent occasion de ne vouloir servir soubz eulx”.57 It is likely that the changed political and religious context, the victory of the central government and its interpretation of Antwerp’s position, at least partly caused this development. There is a striking difference with the willingness of citizens under the Calvinists, including wealthy merchants and the militia guilds, to bear arms and defend Antwerp. To resolve the problems with the urban militia – and the city’s financial need – the sovereign Habsburg archdukes Albrecht (1559–1621) and Isabella (1566–1633) for the first time since 1607 personally came to Antwerp in 1615, and appointed commissioners to resolve matters.58 This resulted in an ordinance in January 1618, which ordered the reduction of the militia guilds to 150 men each, including “wepelaers”, and admonished them to curb their spending. There were to be no more than twelve “wepelaers” per guild. The magistrate was to approve new members and new “wepelaers”. For vacant captaincies in the civic guard two candidates were to be proposed to the magistrate, probably in an attempt to approve their quality and standing.59 The ordinance seems to have had no effect. The six guilds, for instance, continued not to pull their weight in the guard. King Philip IV (1605–1665) again sent commissioners to deal with the disorder and abuses, resulting in another ordinance in 1623. This reiterated much of the 1618 ordinance, including the reduction of the guilds to 150 men each. The guild of the Old Crossbow was now allowed to have eighteen “wepelaers”, the others twelve. This ordinance makes clear that some citizens got freedom from guard duty because of poverty; wardmasters and captains were to decide who were eligible for this.60 The result however, was still nil. In 1627 the six

57 “Points du reglement nouveau de leurs Al.zes qui se pourra dresser an faict de la garde de la ville d’Anvers”, perhaps 1617: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811. Cf. similar problems in Paris in the same period: Descimon, “Milice bourgeoise”, pp. 892–93, 898, 901–04 and by the same author “Solidarité communautaire et sociabilité armée: les compagnies de la milice bourgeoise à Paris (XVIe XVIIe siècles)”, in Sociabilité, pouvoirs et société. Actes du colloque de Rouen 24–26 Novembre 1983, dir. Françoise Thelamon, Rouen, 1987, pp. 601, 602–3, 607–8. Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias”, pp. 111, 116, 118, 121–2. On the participation in Antwerp confraternities also Chapter 6 in this volume. 58 Prims, Geschiedenis, 8–1, p. 234. 59 Ordonantie vande ertshertoghen onse souveraine princen, rakende het stuck vande Gulden ende Borgerlijcke Wachte der Stadt van Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1618: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4811; here also a dossier on the ordinance with requests for further explanation of some articles. De Poorter, “Rubens ‘onder de wapenen’”, p. 205. 60 Printed royal ordinance of 27th March 1623 and city ordinance of 19th April 1623: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4611. Decrees on the militia guilds, 29th December 1618 and 27th November 1620: Ibidem. Points on the civic guard proposed by the count of Noyelles and the chancellor of Brabant to the magistrate, 7th January 1623: Ibidem.

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guilds numbered 1140 members, in 1644 they had 1335, and the next year 1412; the number of “wepelaers” continued to far exceed the privileges.61 It would seem that the local political and social-economic pressures were stronger than any government ordinance. The government acknowledged the changed circumstances in 1623 by granting more people freedom of the guard than had hitherto officially been the case. Besides those traditionally granted complete freedom, students and their servants were now also included. Among those granted freedom for an annual contribution were, for instance, Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640) and Jan Brueghel (1568–1625) as painters in service of the court, all lawyers in Antwerp active for ten years, all physicians not in the city’s service, the printer Balthasar Moretus (1574–1641), and the collector of the printers and the typographers.62 The absence of any sustained direct military threat probably also contributed to Antwerp’s problems with the urban militia. Only occasionally did troops in the service of the United Provinces venture near the city. In October 1595 they took the nearby city of Lier and Antwerp’s urban militia helped to retake it the same day.63 The urban militias in the United Provinces, reformed around 1580, were more structurally integrated in the “national” defence system, functioning as a kind of reserve. Holland’s urban militias in particular could be asked to take up garrison duty in a frontier city, so that the mercenary garrison could join the field army.64 This does not seem to have been the case in the Habsburg Netherlands. Urban militias served merely local purposes. The use of classical references like “SPQA” remained, but the political context, and therefore their interpretation, had changed entirely. It is typical that at the instigation of the Jesuits the statue of Silvius Brabo on the town hall was replaced in 1587 by that of one of the city’s patrons, the Virgin Mary, partly paid for by the militia guilds. Brabo was a mythical Roman soldier, appointed margrave of Antwerp by Julius Caesar, and seen as the guarantor of Antwerp’s privileges.65 In the last decades of the sixteenth century there was also more resistance to attempts to use classical sources to induce a renaissance in contemporary warfare. In 1577 Lazarus von Schwendi (1522–1583), premier soldier in the German Empire, had written a “Kriegs Diskurs” without a single overt reference to Antiquity, claiming his own experience as the basis for his ideas. Welshman Sir Roger Williams 61 Boumans, “De getalsterkte”, p. 793; De Poorter, “Rubens ‘onder de wapenen’”, pp. 206, 214, 224–5, 232–3. 62 List of those granted freedom based on resolution of archduchess Isabella of 26th March 1623: Antwerp, FelixArchief, GA 4615. 63 G. J. Avontroodt, De Furie of Lier op den 14den October 1595 door den vyand verrast en door de burgers van Mechelen en Antwerpen hernomen, Lier, 1840, pp. 15, 20, 25–6; three contemporary pamphlets are appended to this work. 64 For instance in 1585, Bor, Oorsprongk, book 20, p. 598; Knevel, Burgers in het geweer, pp. 254–6, 259–70; Paul Knevel, Wakkere burgers. De Alkmaarse schutterij 1400–1795, Alkmaar, 1991, p. 13; Paul Knevel, “De kracht en de zenuwen van de Republiek”, p. 48. 65 Tayloe Woollett, The altarpiece, p. 113; Holm Bevers, Das Rathaus von Antwerpen (1561–1565): Architektur und Figurenprogramm, Hildesheim, Zürich & New York, 1985, pp. 55–6, 58, 108–12, 134, 172–3, 204, 239.

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(1539/1540–1595), a veteran of the Dutch Revolt, thought the introduction of firearms had changed warfare so much that the classics were irrelevant. This ties in with Peter Burke’s suggestion that the feeling of difference vis-à-vis Antiquity ultimately became so sharp that it undermined the will to imitate the classics.66 By the 1570s and 1580s – at least in the Low Countries – mercenaries were still being condemned with age-old arguments. The Frisian nobleman Carel Roorda in 1579 stated that native companies were better because they did not fight for money alone, “mer oec om heur lant te verdedigen. Ende daarom een van deze soe goet als twe van de anderen, die nyet dan om gelt dienen”.67 The important difference here is that the preference now appears to be for native professional soldiers (mercenaries), and not militiamen. That wars were waged by armies of professionals was now commonplace.68 6.4. Conclusion There can be no doubt about the declining actual military role of urban militias from at least the late fifteenth century to the early seventeenth century. The scale and costs of war, waged with increasing numbers of mercenaries, increased dramatically. This strengthened the military power of “the state” and led to a decline in urban autonomy. Stronger central governments induced a gradual professionalisation of their armies, which after 1650 led to the creation of uniformed standing armies. Urban militias, generally only keen to take the field when it suited the cities’ interests, were marginalised militarily and often rendered politically impotent, occasionally even completely suppressed.69 Antwerp initially had no problem with the central government and was loyal to its Habsburg lord. But resistance to the central government increased because of strict laws against Protestants which were seen as a threat to trade and thus Antwerp’s interests. In the 1560s under Philip II the discontent in the Netherlands erupted. During the Dutch Revolt in 1577–1585 Antwerp was effectively an independent city state defended by its urban militia, which consisted of the civic guard and the 66 Schwendi, “Kriegs Diskurs” (1577), in Lazarus von Schwendi. Der erste deutsche Verkünder der allgemeinen Wehrpflicht, ed. Eugen von Frauenholz, Hamburg, 1939, pp. 192–3; Roger Williams, “A briefe discourse of warre” (1590), in The Works of Sir Roger Williams, ed. John X. Evans, Oxford, 1972, p. 33; also in the introduction, pp. xcv, cxxxix; Burke, The European Renaissance, pp. 204–5. 67 Carel Roorda cited in Jacobus A. C. G. Trosée, “Naar aanleiding van een zestiende-eeuwse ‘recrutenschool’”, in Idem, Historische studiën, s.l., 1924, pp. 70–1; see also Duiling, “Merkwaardig staatsstuk van Willem Lodewijk, graaf van Nassau, 1588”, in Kronijk van het Historisch Genootschap, 6, 1850,p. 67. 68 Robert Birely, The Counter-Reformation Prince. Anti-Machiavellianism or Catholic Statecraft in Early Modern Europe, Chapel Hill and London, 1990, p. 230. 69 See for instance for this process in Germany, R. Po-chia Hsia, “Civic militia and urban liberties in early modern Germany”, in Tijdschrift voor Sociale Geschiedenis, 23, 1997, pp. 53–4, 55–7. For Italy see Metzger, Die Milizarmee, pp. 135–6; Mallett, “The theory and practice”, pp. 175–6, 179–80; Bayley, War and society, pp. 310, 315. Cf. for England: Rory Rapple, Martial Power and Elizabethan Culture. Military Men in England and Ireland, 1558–1594, Cambridge, 2009, pp. 37–8; cf. Tlusty, The martial ethic. Also see Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias”, pp. 122–3.

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six militia guilds. Even then though, the city recognised a lord. The new civic guard formed in December 1577 was a result of Antwerp’s bad experiences with its prince’s professional soldiers, culminating in the Spanish fury of 1576. The development of Antwerp’s urban militia in 1566–1621 fits the general pattern. But it should be stressed that the defeat of the autonomous cities like Antwerp was not a foregone conclusion. In the United Provinces, held together by the military alliance of 1579 known as the Union of Utrecht, of which Antwerp was a signatory, urban autonomy remained. The cities here cooperated in the estates and under Holland’s domination managed effectively to finance their own good army of professionals. In the German Empire imperial cities like Frankfurt-am-Main managed to maintain their autonomy. The urban militias in the United Provinces and Frankfurt were seen by many as an expression of urban autonomy and local patriotism. Although some in Holland’s cities tried to escape serving in the militia, it was generally something which provided standing and status; militiamen did not belong to the dregs of society.70 In Antwerp after 1585 – and cities elsewhere which lost autonomy offer a parallel71 – this was apparently increasingly the opposite. Serving in the urban militia became an onerous duty, socially déclassé. Antwerp’s six militia guilds offered the wealthiest and best connected citizens the way to minimal guard duty or none at all. The urban militias kept up with developments in weapons, equipment, organisation and tactics in the sixteenth century. They adopted firearms and pikes, with the former proportionally growing in numbers. Militias retained some military use for princes, if only because no government had unlimited funds and having them defend and police their own towns meant scarce money could be spent on mercenaries for duty in the field.72 This was the case in Antwerp as well. Classical writings were all pervasive and the basis for contemporary military theory. The classics helped facilitate international communication and the dissemination of ideas and gave them status. Not surprising then that they were used in the context of Antwerp’s armed power. The wardmasters for instance – members of the better-off classes and traditionally captains of the civic guard – showed they knew the classics directly and indirectly through Machiavelli. In Paris in 1590 it was curé Jean Hamilton who thought the Parisian militia better than those of Jerusalem, Rome and Athens, since it defended not only the city but also God and the true religion against heretics.73 British historian Sydney Anglo has wondered whether the attempts to use Antiquity to bring about a military Renaissance “tell us far more about the intellectual habits of the learned than about Renaissance military activity”. He believes it does and has characterised

70 Po-chia Hsia, “Civic militia”, pp. 57–60; Knevel, Burgers in het geweer, pp. 200–3, 276; Paul Knevel, “Onder gewapende burgers. De belevingswereld van zeventiende-eeuwse schutters”, in Tijdschrift voor Sociale Geschiedenis, 23, 1997, pp. 46–8, 50. 71 Po-chia Hsia, “Civic militia”, p. 55. Cf. for Paris: Descimon, “La milice bourgeoise”, pp. 892–4, 901–4 and “Solidarité communautaire”, pp. 601, 607–8. 72 Prak, “Citizens, soldiers and civic militias”, pp. 103, 105, 111, 113, 114, 121. 73 Descimon, “La milice bourgeoise”, p. 891.

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the constant references to the classics as “humanistic froth”.74 This may well be the case in many instances. Often the classics were read selectively, only half understood, or even completely misunderstood, and always interpreted in the contemporary context. The use of maxims and topoi was standard. Machiavelli is a good example of all this.75 And even princes and their commanders could read Machiavelli’s Discorsi, a distinctly republican work, condemn his politics or attitude to religion, but find him useful on matters of war.76 It can be argued that the classics or Machiavelli were not necessary in Antwerp – or anywhere else – to induce change in the military and inspire the reorganising or reinvigorating of urban militias. The duty to bear arms in defence of one’s own city was, after all an old tradition and privilege. Praise for urban militias and citizens’ armies went back as far as the thirteenth century.77 In the sixteenth century there were structural forces at work effecting change, evidenced by the fact that in spite of all the condemnation of mercenaries and lauding of urban militias, there was never any serious effort to abandon the former. That urban militiamen who were excluded from political power would attempt to use their arms to acquire political influence does not require classical inspiration. Nor does the suppression of this by the political elite.78 Nevertheless, examples from Antwerp make clear that the classics were an important frame of reference. By the late sixteenth century there were more voices proclaiming that warfare had changed too much since Antiquity and that the classics were useless. Some of those who still preferred native soldiers now preferred native professionals (mercenaries), and not militiamen. Others persisted on the classical trail into the seventeenth century. In 1616 Johann Jacob von Wallhausen (c. 1580–1627) published a book on the “nobles arts de la milice Romaine (en laquelle il y a un gran Thresor caché, comme à bon entendeur il ne fault que demie parolle)”. He dedicated it to Ambrogio Spinola (1569–1630), the captain-general of the Habsburg Netherlands. Dutch stadholder Frederick Henry (1584–1647) in 1635 commissioned from a Leiden professor a book on the Roman army, which he wanted to use as a manual for his own.79 74 Anglo, Machiavelli, pp. 552, 554–56, 566–70. 75 Mallett, “The theory and practice”, p. 174; Anglo, Machiavelli, pp. 537, 561–62, 570–1. 76 Lina Baillet, “Schwendi, lecteur de Machiavel”, in Revue d’Alsace, 112, 1986, pp. 188–9, 191; Silvano, “Florentine republicanism”, p. 59; Richard Tuck, “Humanism and political thought”, in The Impact of Humanism, ed. Goodman & MacKay, pp. 56–7; Anglo, Machiavelli, pp. 18–9, 95–7, 174; Caferro, Contesting, pp. 175–6. 77 Rapple, Martial power, pp. 27–8; Knevel, Burgers in het geweer, pp. 50–1; Maarten Prak, “Burgers onder de wapenen, van de zestiende tot de achttiende eeuw”, in Tijdschrift voor sociale geschiedenis, 23, 1997, pp. 4–5. 78 Knevel, Burgers in het geweer, pp. 94–7; Knevel, “De kracht en de zenuwen”, pp. 40–3; Sickesz, De schutterijen, pp. 59–62, 65; Prims, De kolonellen, pp. 5–8, 160–1; J. C. Grayson, “The civic militia in the county of Holland, 1560–1581. Politics and public order in the Dutch Revolt”, in Bijdragen en mededelingen betreffende de geschiedenis der Nederlanden, 95, 1980, pp. 55, 603. 79 Wallhausen, La milice romaine traicte, Auquel est monstre, comment devant quelques mill annees on enseignoit les nobles arts Militaires es escholes publiques, Frankfurt/Main, 1616, including a French translation of Vegetius; Marika Keblusek, Boeken in de hofstad. Haagse boekencultuur in de Gouden Eeuw, Hilversum, 1997, p. 190.

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Where does this leave “the military Renaissance” and Antwerp? Is it merely a chimera, a result of the search for the teleological beginnings of modernity?80 The interest in reviving and imitating the classics, in Antwerp or elsewhere, probably did help to justify and initiate investigation, change and experiment. But then, they could also be used in attempts to undo change, for instance in resistance to the abrogation of privileges. Antwerp’s wardmasters used the classics (and Machiavelli) in this context. The classics were so omnipresent in the sixteenth century that the references to them clearly did mean something. A source written in Antwerp in 1582 states that peoples “qui ont fait profession des armes, sans y conjoindre les lettres, sont toujours devenus barbares, cruels; & et se sont trouvez despouillés de toute humanité”.81 This seems to suggest that employing the classics was in itself a sign of virtue. The people of Antwerp used the classics in the context of their urban militia to show that they were neither barbarian, cruel nor devoid of humanity, but civilised and virtuous.

80 For a discussion of this see the Introduction. 81 La joyeuse & magnifique entrée, p. 45.

Anne-Laure Van Bruaene*  

A Counterfeit Community Rederijkers, Festive Culture and Print in Renaissance Antwerp 7.1. Introduction The monumental three-volume series Les fêtes de la Renaissance, published under the direction of Jean Jacquot throughout the 1950s to 1970s, set the standard for the interdisciplinary study of Renaissance festival. As Jacquot stated in the introductions to these works, the relevance of Renaissance festival went beyond mere aesthetics, such as that of the famed triumphal arches, since early modern feasts were symbolic translations of not only political and social relations but cultural ideas as well. Notwithstanding, the focus remained on the relationship between festival and high art.1 Because of their commemoration in coveted festival books and prints, the joyous entry of Charles V and Philip II into Antwerp in 1549 and the same city’s religious processions figured prominently among les fêtes de la Renaissance.2 Jacquot’s series places the Antwerp entries and processions into a wider European context, as does the more recent Court Festivals of the European Renaissance.3 From this perspective, Renaissance festival was fashioned by humanists and artists who operated within broad interregional networks, mainly for the benefit of political and social elites. Hugo Soly built upon these insights and described the success of Renaissance festival in the Low Countries – Antwerp’s in particular – as a clear illustration of the widening gap

* With many thanks to Jan De Meester, Thomas Donald Jacobs, Bertram Kaschek, Guido Marnef and Maarten Van Dijck for their help and valuable comments. In loving memory of Laurence Derycke (1975–2013), who shared my interest in rederijkers and migration. 1 Jean Jacquot (ed.), Les fêtes de la Renaissance, Paris, 1956; Jean Jacquot (ed.), Les fêtes de la Rénaissance II. Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint, Paris, 1960; Jean Jacquot & Elie Konigson (eds), Les fêtes de la Renaissance III, Paris, 1975. 2 August Corbet, “L’Entrée du Prince Philippe à Anvers en 1549”, in Les fêtes de la Rénaissance II, ed. Jacquot, pp. 307–10; Sheila Williams, “Les Ommegangs d’Anvers et les cortèges du Lord-Maire de Londres”, in Les fêtes de la Rénaissance II, ed. Jacquot, pp. 349–57; Sheila Williams & Jean Jacquot, “Ommegangs anversois du temps de Bruegel et de Van Heemskerck”, in Les fêtes de la Rénaissance II, ed. Jacquot, pp. 359–88. See also Elizabeth McGrath, “Le Déclin d’Anvers et les décorations de Rubens pour l’entrée du prince Ferdinand en 1635”, in Les fêtes de la Renaissance III, eds Jacquot & Konigson pp. 173–86. For bibliographical references to festival books, see John Landwehr, Splendid Ceremonies. State Entries and Royal Funerals in the Low Countries, 1515–1791. A Bibliography, Nieuwkoop and Leiden, 1971 and Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly & Anne Simon, Festivals and Ceremonies. A Bibliography of Works relating to Court, Civic and Religious Festivals in Europe 1500–1800, London and New York, 2000, pp. 422–5 on Antwerp. 3 J. R. Mulryne & Elizabeth Goldring (ed.), Court Festivals of the European Renaissance. Art, Politics and Performance, Aldershot, 2002. For Antwerp, see Jochen Becker’s contribution, “‘Greater than Zeuxis and Apelles’: Artists as Arguments in the Antwerp Entry of 1549”, pp. 171–95. Anne-Laure Van Bruaene • Ghent University Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 153–171.

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DOI 10.1484/M.SEUH-EB.5.119781

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between the majority of the population and the up and coming, well-educated bourgeoisie.4 Recently, these views have been challenged by art historians who have shifted their attention from the Renaissance aesthetics of festive events to the social functions of festival and ritual within their civic contexts. Most authors now stress the performative aspect of such occasions and, in particular, the community-building capacity of ritual.5 Margit Thøfner, for example, has labelled Antwerp’s festive culture “a common art”, implying that broad segments of the urban community were actively involved.6 The performative turn has also caused a change in focus, from the memoria of the event to the actual event.7 Yet, festival books commemorating joyous entries and other celebrations remain researchers’ primary sources. Emily J. Peters and Christopher Heuer have addressed this paradox by highlighting the fundamental similarities, both in their rhetorical strategies and context of collective production, between festival and print.8 Peters, in particular, has argued that festival books carried on the communal experience after certain events fell out of practice.9 Where does this leave our understanding of Antwerp festival? In this essay, I want to redress the balance between the older view of Renaissance festival as aesthetics fashioned exclusively by humanists and cosmopolitan artists in the service of a small elite and the more recent view of such events as rituals conforming to the expectations of a broad, but essentially local, community. I will do this by focusing on the rederijkers, since all authors discussing Antwerp

4 Hugo Soly, “Openbare feesten in Brabantse en Vlaamse steden, 16de-18de eeuw”, in L’initiative publique des communes en Belgique. Fondements historiques (Ancien Régime). 11e Colloque International (Spa, 1–4 sept. 1982). Actes / Het openbaar initiatief van de gemeenten in België. Historische grondslagen (Ancien Régime). 11de Internationaal Colloquium (Spa, 1–4 sept. 1982). Handelingen, Brussels, 1984, pp. 605–29; Hugo Soly, “Plechtige intochten in de steden van de Zuidelijke Nederlanden tijdens de overgang van Middeleeuwen naar Nieuwe Tijd: communicatie, propaganda, spektakel”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 97, 1984, pp. 341–61. Similar perspectives can be found in Herman Pleij, De sneeuwpoppen van 1511. Literatuur en stadscultuur tussen middeleeuwen en moderne tijd, Amsterdam, 1988. 5 Mark Meadow, “Ritual and Civic Identity in Philip II’s 1549 Antwerp Blijde Incompst”, in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 49, 1998, pp. 36–67; Mark Meadow, “‘Met geschickter ordenen’: the Rhetoric of Place in Philip II’s 1549 Blijde Incompst”, in Journal of the Walters Art Gallery, 57, 1999, pp. 1–11; Stijn Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power. The Thriumphal Entry of Prince Philip of Spain into Antwerp, Amsterdam – New York 2012. 6 Margit Thøfner, A Common Art: Urban Ceremonial in Antwerp and Brussels during and after the Dutch Revolt, Zwolle, 2008. 7 Cf. Christian Jouhaud, “Printing the event. From La Rochelle to Paris”, in Roger Chartier (ed.), The Culture of Print: Power and the Uses of Print in Early Modern Europe, Princeton, 1987, pp. 290–333; Laurie Nussdorfer, “Print and Pageantry in Baroque Rome”, in Sixteenth Century Journal, 29, 1998, 2, pp. 439–64. 8 Emily J. Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts (The whole course of the world): Printed Processions and the Theater of Identity in Antwerp during the Dutch Revolt, University of California Santa Barbara, unpublished doctoral dissertation, 2005; Christopher Heuer, The City Rehearsed: Object, Architecture, and Print in the Worlds of Hans Vredeman de Vries, Abingdon – New York, 2009. 9 Emily J. Peters, “Printing Ritual: The Performance of Community in Christopher Plantin’s La Joyeuse & Magnifique Entrée de Monseigneur Francoys … d’Anjou”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 61, 2008, pp. 370–413.

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festivals underline their crucial role, especially so during the 1550s and 1560s. The Scheldt city’s rhetoricians were heavily involved in such events, organising two major theatre competitions, or landjuwelen, in 1496 and 1561, and contributing to the organisation, execution, and commemoration of entry ceremonies and religious processions.10 Rederijkers were amateur poets and playwrights who organised themselves into formal guilds or chambers of rhetoric. Almost every town in the Low Countries had at least one chamber of rhetoric. Recent research has shown that most rederijkers belonged to the middling group of highly skilled artisans.11 Yet, there were important variations in the professional backgrounds of rederijkers from different cities and towns. Especially in larger cities such as Antwerp, Brussels, Ghent, and Bruges, visual artists played a leading role.12 Although the available archival sources are limited, we have a fairly clear picture of the sixteenth-century Antwerp rederijkers as a group of skilled artisans of whom a substantial number were educated artists. The case of Antwerp is noteworthy because its most prominent chamber of rhetoric, De Violieren, had had close institutional links with the artists’ guild of St Luke since its establishment in the late fifteenth century. Those who did not belong to the guild of St Luke could apply to become members of De Violieren, but in practice the chamber’s most

10 Although many recent studies discuss particular rederijker events and festivals, most overviews of the Antwerp Chambers of Rhetoric are dated: Joseph Van Ertborn, Geschiedkundige aentekeningen aengaende de Ste-Lucas Gilde en de Rederyk-Kamers van den Olyftak, de Violieren en de Goud-Bloem, te Antwerpen, Antwerp, [1806]; Jan Frans Willems, “Chronologische lyst van oorkonden, de kamers van rhetorica te Antwerpen betreffende”, in Belgisch Museum, 1, 1837, pp. 147–71; Jan Baptist Van der Straelen, Geschiedenis der Antwerpsche rederykkamers, Antwerp, 1863; Fernand Donnet (ed.), Het jonstich versaem der Violieren. Geschiedenis der rederijkkamer De Olijftack sedert 1480, Antwerp, 1907; Fernand Donnet, “Un manuscrit de la chambre de rhétorique anversoise ‘De Goudtbloemen’”, in De gulden passer, 2, 1924, pp. 1–15; August Keersmaekers, “De rederijkerskamers te Antwerpen: kanttekeningen in verband met ontstaan, samenstelling en ondergang”, in Varia Historica Brabantica, 6–7, 1978, pp. 173–86; Freddy Puts, “Geschiedenis van de Antwerpse rederijkerskamer De Goudbloem”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 23–24, 1973–1974, pp. 5–34. The most recent summary is Gary Waite, Reformers on Stage: Popular Drama and Religious Propaganda in the Low Countries of Charles V, 1515–1556, Toronto, 2000, pp. 51–78. 11 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, ““A wonderfull tryumfe, for the wynning of a pryse”: Guilds, Ritual, Theater, and the Urban Network in the Southern Low Countries, ca. 1450–1650”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 59, 2006, pp. 374–405; Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Om beters wille. Rederijkerskamers en de stedelijke cultuur in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden (1400–1650), Amsterdam, 2008; Arjan van Dixhoorn, Lustige geesten. Rederijkers in de Noordelijke Nederlanden in de vijftiende, zestiende en zeventiende eeuw, Amsterdam, 2009. 12 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “‘Abel in eenighe const’. Claeys vander Meersch, meester-schilder, en de jonge Fonteine (1448–1476)”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 49–50, 1999–2000, pp. 77–94; Laurence Derycke & Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “Sociale en literaire dynamiek in het vroeg vijftiende-eeuwse Brugge: de oprichting van de rederijkerskamer De Heilige Geest ca. 1428”, in Stad van koopmanschap en vrede. Literatuur in Brugge tussen Middeleeuwen en Rederijkerstijd, ed. Johan Oosterman, Leuven, 2005, pp. 59–87; Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 122–27. General reflections in Bart Ramakers, “Bruegel en de rederijkers. Schilderkunst en literatuur in de zestiende eeuw”, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 47, 1996, pp. 81–105.

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prominent rederijkers were visual artists.13 To a lesser degree this also appears to have been the case for Antwerp’s other two chambers of rhetoric, De Goudbloem and De Olijftak.14 By focusing on the role of the rederijkers I will reassess some of the assumptions underlying both the older and newer views of Antwerp festival. The involvement of the rederijkers in the staging of festival combined with their growing preference for humanist discourses shows that, at least in a social sense, the reception and appropriation of the Renaissance in the Low Countries was not confined to the elites.15 However, a closer analysis of the backgrounds and practices of Antwerp’s rederijkers will put the often uncritical claims regarding sixteenth-century public rituals’ community-building capacity into perspective. Antwerp’s rederijkers, in particular, were not just representatives – or representative – of the wider civic community. Antwerp was a fast-growing commercial metropolis that had to cope with the challenges posed both by religious diversity and growing political instability. In such a context, the very concept of community was highly problematic.16 Therefore, it is my contention that Antwerp’s civic community was a conscious ‘counterfeit’ – or konterfeytsel17 – crafted by a creative group of middle-class men who reinvented their own cultural traditions by developing innovative discourses and media. 7.2. Inventing Antwerp Sixteenth-century Antwerp was first and foremost a migrant city.18 Therefore, the composition of its civic community was far from a given and remained in constant flux. Many of the rederijkers who were so instrumental in the elaboration of Antwerp’s civic culture were recent immigrants themselves, a few of whom even hailed from outside the Low Countries. A 1546 roll of De Violieren’s 13 The most important source is the membership list of the guild of St Luke, that also includes short notes on the activities of De Violieren and gives information on non-members of the guild of St Luke who joined De Violieren in the years 1543–1555: De liggeren en andere historische archieven der Antwerpsche Sint Lucasgilde, onder zinspreuk: ‘Wt ionsten versaemt’, eds Philips Rombouts & Theodoor Van Lerius, vol. 1, Antwerp – The Hague, 1872. 14 Waite, Reformers on Stage, pp. 55–7. 15 Bart Ramakers, “De mythe van de grote vertraging”, in Queeste, 5, 1998, pp. 58–63. This is also the main argument of van Dixhoorn, Lustige geesten. Cf. Peter Burke, The European Renaissance. Centres and Peripheries, Oxford – Malden, 1998, pp. 170–1. 16 Hugo Soly, “Sociale relaties in Antwerpen tijdens de 16de en 17de eeuw”, in Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool 16de-17de eeuw, ed Jan Van der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 37–46; Guido Marnef, Antwerpen in de tijd van de Reformatie. Ondergronds protestantisme in een handelsmetropool, Antwerp – Amsterdam, 1996; An M. Kint, The community of commerce. Social relations in sixteenth-century Antwerp, Columbia University, unpublished doctoral dissertation, 1996, esp. pp. 110–91. 17 I use the term in its sixteenth-century meaning: a stylized portrait or imitation of nature by an artist; Jeroen Vandommele, Als in een spiegel. Vrede, kennis en gemeenschap op het Antwerpse Landjuweel van 1561, Hilversum, 2011, p. 259. 18 A recent synthesis is Bert De Munck, Hilde Greefs & Anne Winter, “Poorten en papieren. Diversiteit en integratie in historisch perspectief ”, in Antwerpen. Biografie van een stad, eds Inge Bertels, Bert De Munck & Herman van Goethem, Antwerp, 2010, pp. 213–2.

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new members lists Hans Franckaert, a merchant from Nuremberg and Pieter Bruegel’s best friend according to Carel van Mander.19 In 1556, in the context of celebrations associated with a gathering of the Golden Fleece, De Violieren elected Merten Pemels, a member of the German nation, as their leader or ‘prince’.20 Goossen Kareest, painter and harpsichord maker, was an alderman of De Violieren in 1561 – and a native of Cologne. In 1529, Kareest became a master in the guild of St Luke but he did not obtain Antwerp burghership until 1537.21 German merchants’ and artists’ particular interest in the chambers of rhetoric probably stemmed from their ability to easily master Dutch and their familiarity with similar vernacular literary practices in their homelands. Already in the first half of the fifteenth century, through trade connections, there were direct links between the Bruges chamber of rhetoric De Heilige Geest and Lübeck’s Zirkel-Gesellschaft, an elite society devoted to public feasts and theatre.22 In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries many German towns (including Nuremberg and Augsburg) housed companies of Meistergesang. These companies of craftsmen held Singschulen, or competitions for the best songs and singing. Although it was secondary to theatre and poetry, song was also a popular medium in rhetorician culture. Therefore, many German immigrants of middle-class status undoubtedly found the rederijkers’ love for play, music and beer-drinking irresistible.23 Most rederijkers with immigrant backgrounds, however, had roots in the Low Countries. Shearer Jan Herdewel, a native of the Flemish village of Stekene, became an Antwerp burgher in 1550. That same year, he enlisted as a member of De Violieren, probably as an actor.24 Printer Hans (or Jan) de Laet was born in the nearby village of Stabroek and gained Antwerp burghership in 1545 before becoming an elder of De Violieren in 1561.25 Woodcarver Wouter vanden Elsmeer, a native of Diest in Brabant, became a master in the guild of St Luke in 1533 before obtaining burghership the following year. In 1561, he too was mentioned as an elder of De Violieren.26 Particularly interesting is the

19 De Liggeren, p. 158; Walter S. Gibson, Pieter Bruegel and the Art of Laughter, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 2006, p. 73. 20 De Liggeren, p. 191; Waite, Reformers on Stage, p. 56. 21 De Liggeren, pp. 93 and 113; Elly Cockx-Indestege & Werner Waterschoot (eds), Uyt Ionsten Versaemt. Het Landjuweel van 1561 te Antwerpen (Exhibition catalogue KBR), Brussels, 1994, p. 81. I am very grateful to Jan De Meester for providing me with data on the movements of Antwerp’s rederijkers, drawn from his database on immigrants to sixteenth-century Antwerp (further indicated as ‘database of Jan De Meester’). 22 Sonja Dünnebeil, Die Lübecker Zirkel-Gesellschaft. Formen der Selbstdarstellung einer städtischen Oberschicht, Lübeck, 1996; Derycke & Van Bruaene, “Sociale en literaire dynamiek”, pp. 84–6. 23 Michael Baldzuhn, “The Companies of Meistergesang in Germany”, in The Reach of the Republic of Letters. Literary and Learned Societies in late medieval and early modern Europe, eds Arjan van Dixhoorn & Susie Speakman Sutch, 2 vols, Leiden, 2008, pp. 219–55. On the involvement of the Germans in Antwerp’s public life, see Donald J. Harreld, High Germans in the Low Countries. German Merchants and Commerce in Golden Age Antwerp, Leiden and Boston, 2004, pp. 84–90. 24 De Liggeren, p. 173; database of Jan De Meester. 25 Cockx-Indestege & Waterschoot, Uyt Ionsten Versaemt, p. 81; database of Jan De Meester. 26 De Liggeren, p. 119; Cockx-Indestege & Waterschoot, Uyt Ionsten Versaemt, p. 81; database of Jan De Meester.

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case of Gheert Robijn, another rederijker hailing from Diest. Robijn played an active role in the 1561 landjuweel, the prestigious theatre festival organised by De Violieren (see below) and he delivered invitations for the competition throughout Brabant. In November 1561, a few months after the landjuweel, he was rewarded with Antwerp burghership with an explicit reference to his status as an actor (personagie) in De Violieren.27 Significantly, some of Antwerp’s leading rederijkers came from smaller towns in Flanders and Brabant, where they had already acquired experience in their local chambers of rhetoric. In other words, these men became rederijkers before they became Antwerpenaars.28 The evidence is particularly revealing with regard to two types of rederijkers. Firstly, there are the factors, chambers’ official playwrights and creative masterminds.29 In the sixteenth century, these men were remarkably mobile, and Antwerp held particular attractions.30 The most spectacular case is undoubtedly that of the painter Jeronimus vander Voort who started his career as the factor of a chamber of rhetoric in Lier, near Antwerp. It was in this capacity that he was present in the Scheldt city on the occasion of the 1561 landjuweel. Only a few years later, Vander Voort had to flee his hometown after he became involved in local Calvinist activities. In the 1580s, after several eventful years, he settled in Antwerp and became factor of De Goudbloem.31 Vander Voort’s residence of choice was obviously religiously and politically motivated. Yet, even before the turbulent years of the Dutch Revolt, factors from smaller towns considered migration to Antwerp a good career move. Jan vanden Berghe, originally from Diest, became factor of De Violieren in 1537.32 In this capacity, he wrote award-winning plays for competitions in Ghent (1539) and Diest (1541). In 1543, he moved to Brussels to become factor of the local chamber Den Boeck, but he returned to Antwerp around 1551. After becoming ill, he went back to Brussels and died soon after.33 Vanden Berghe’s example suggests that over the course of the sixteenth century, the factor rose to a professional status. Another clue to this process of professionalisation in Antwerp’s rederijker milieu is the fact that in 1525, the board members of De Goudbloem asked their new

27 Cockx-Indestege & Waterschoot, Uyt Ionsten Versaemt, p. 86; database of Jan De Meester. 28 On the ‘Antwerp connection’ of the rederijkers from Brussels, see Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 136–39. 29 Dirk Coigneau, “Bedongen creativiteit. Over retoricale productieregeling”, in Medioneerlandistiek. Een inleiding tot de Middelnederlandse letterkunde, eds Ria Jansen-Sieben, Hilversum, 2000, pp. 129–37. 30 Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 130–1. 31 Louis Van Boeckel, “Jeronimus van der Voort. Een zestiende-eeuwsche Liersche rederijker”, in Tijdschrift voor geschiedenis en folklore, 6, 1943, pp. 5–80; Dirk Coigneau, “De Goudbloem en haar factor Jeronimus van der Voort”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 35–36, 1985–1986, pp. 45–80. 32 Diest had two chambers of rhetoric, De Lelie and De Christusoogen, which both participated in the landjuwelen cycle. Both chambers were present at the 1535 landjuweel in Mechelen, where De Lelie won first prize. It is possible that Jan vanden Berghe was first spotted there by De Violieren. See Eugeen Van Autenboer, Het Brabants landjuweel der rederijkers, 1515–1561, Middelburg, 1981, p. 40. 33 Willem Van Eeghem, “Rhetores Bruxellenses”, in Belgisch Tijdschrift voor Filologie en Geschiedenis, 15, 1936, pp. 57–68; Waite, Reformers on Stage, pp. 66–73; Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 131–2.

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factor, Jan Salomon, to sign a contract.34 Whether Salomon was also a recent immigrant to the city is unknown, but he was paid an annual fee and received extra remuneration according to the number of verses he wrote and when he collaborated in festivals.35 A second interesting group of Antwerp rederijkers with out-of-town experience comprises leading artists who specialised in festival design. A first case is that of Pieter Coecke van Aelst, who drafted and edited the festival books for the 1549 entry of Charles V and his son Philip; he was probably also largely responsible for the design of the actual festival.36 Although working and living in Antwerp, Coecke was listed as a member of Aalst’s chamber of rhetoric,37 and it is likely, but not certain, that he also joined De Violieren.38 We have a much clearer picture of Hans Vredeman de Vries’ involvement. This versatile artist, who was born in the Northern Low Countries, was a prominent member of De Peoene, Malines’ chamber of rhetoric, during the early 1560s. He designed wagons for the local ommegang and participated in rhetorical competitions in the chamber’s name. However, in 1565 Vredeman de Vries identified himself as a member of Antwerp’s Violieren on a woodcut that he designed, depicting the city’s brand new town hall. In 1582, he was the chief architect of the Duke of Anjou’s controversial entry into Antwerp, the French prince having been elected by the Dutch rebels to replace King Philip II.39 Factors like Jan vanden Berghe and Jeronimus vander Voort and artists like Pieter Coecke van Aelst and Hans Vredeman de Vries wrote plays for public performance, staged festivals, or designed festival books. The fact that they had been trained as rederijkers in other places invites us to critically assess the relationship between Antwerp and its rederijkers. In almost every town and city in the Low Countries, the chambers of rhetoric regularly staged moralities and farces and contributed to the local ommegangen or to occasional peace celebrations with wagon plays and tableaux vivants. It is hard to overstate their influence on the creation of local identities. At the same time, the regular organisation of theatre and poetry competitions between the chambers of rhetoric led to the 34 In addition, beginning around the middle of the sixteenth century a distinction was made between full members of the chambers and the actors or personaigien, who had minimal financial responsibilities but well-defined theatrical duties such as rehearsing, performing, and building and breaking-up stages. See Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 118–9. 35 Donnet, “Un manuscrit”, pp. 12–4. 36 Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power, pp. 22–5. 37 Wilfried Vernaeve, “Dat boeck vande Guldebroeders ende Guldesusters van dat Broerscap van der heiliger Maghet Kathelijne van Aelst”, in Het Land van Aalst, 39, 1987, p. 221. 38 Pieter Coecke van Aelst became a master in the guild of St Luke in 1527. In 1537, as dean of the guild, he was responsible for Jan vanden Berghe’s appointment as factor (De Liggeren, pp. 108 and 129). 39 Eugeen Van Autenboer, Volksfeesten en rederijkers te Mechelen, 1400–1600, Ghent, 1962, pp. 44, 138, 157, 168 and 200; Heiner Borggrefe, “Hans Vredeman de Vries 1526–1609”, in Tussen stadspaleizen en luchtkastelen. Hans Vredeman de Vries en de Renaissance, eds Heiner Borggrefe et al., Ghent and Amsterdam, 2002, pp. 15–38; Carl Van de Velde, “Hans Vredeman de Vries en de blijde intreden te Antwerpen”, in Tussen stadspaleizen en luchtkastelen, pp. 81–8; Christopher P. Heuer, “Placing rederijkerskunst in Antwerp”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries and the artes mechanicae revisited, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 197–214.

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development of regional and interregional networks of rederijkers and to the emergence of a shared urban culture.40 However, while the Antwerp scene was in many ways the focal point of rederijker culture, it was also highly idiosyncratic. The group of heterogeneous, creative men who were involved in the activities of the city’s chambers of rhetoric had a strong hand in what I would call the ‘invention of Antwerp’. The international commercial context and its resultant demands, in combination with the involvement of some of the best artists of the age and the constant input of experienced newcomers, made Antwerp festival much more ‘artificial’ than has been acknowledged in many recent studies, which instead stress communal features. One revealing example is that of the role played by Antwerp rederijkers in straightforward city branding. All over the Low Countries the chambers of rhetoric claimed to defend their city’s honour. This civic honour was most frequently invoked in requests for urban subsidies, but there is no doubt that this task was taken very seriously. The many bitter conflicts between chambers from different towns in the aftermath of rhetorical competitions speak volumes in this regard.41 Yet, in most cases the civic pride the rederijkers defended remained an abstract, vaguely religious notion, something that every burgher understood and that therefore no one had to explain.42 Not so in Antwerp. De Violieren shamelessly promoted their city. In 1496, this chamber organised a landjuweel in which no fewer than twenty-eight chambers of rhetoric from all over the Low Countries participated. As a festival souvenir, De Violieren presented the contributors with a silver rosary showing the city’s coat of arms, which included a depiction of Antwerp’s castle. Similarly decorated prizes were awarded to the best short prologue play praising the city.43 Nor did Antwerp rederijkers hesitate to highlight the relationship between civic self-promotion and the artist’s profession. In 1493, at a rederijker gathering in Malines attended by the Burgundian duke, Philip the Fair, De Violieren showcased a wagon with St Luke, seated upon Antwerp’s castle, painting the Virgin Mary’s portrait.44 In 1561, De Violieren again organised the landjuweel. On this occasion they were subtler in their promotion of the city and only asked for prologue plays that

40 Van Bruaene, “A wonderfull tryumfe”. 41 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “Harmonie et honneur en jeu: les compétitions dramatiques et symboliques entre les villes flamandes et brabançonnes aux quinzième et seizième siècles”, in Le verbe, l’image et les représentations de la société urbaine au Moyen-Age. Actes du colloque international tenu à Marche-en-Famenne du 24 au 27 octobre 2001, eds. Marc Boone et al., Antwerp and Apeldoorn, 2002, pp. 227–38. 42 Even in one of the most remarkable rederijker texts, a diatribe on the rival city of Tournai, Mathijs de Castelein, prominent rederijker of Oudenaarde, remains extremely vague about his love for his hometown. See Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “De stad als scheldwoord. De Baladen van Doornijcke (1521/1522) van Matthijs de Castelein en de stedelijke literaire praktijk van de rederijkers”, in Spiegel der Letteren, 48, 2006, 2, pp. 135–47. 43 Eugeen Van Autenboer, “Een landjuweel te Antwerpen in 1496?”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 29, 1978–1979, 1, pp. 144 and 148. 44 De Liggeren, p. 47.

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emphasised merchants’ good qualities. But while this offered the playwrights an occasion for moral reflection, most contributions generously praised Antwerp and its mercantile success.45 It has been repeatedly argued, by An Kint among others, that the 1561 prologue plays sustained Antwerp’s civic ideology as a ‘community of commerce’.46 This commercial ideology had been promoted in previous festivals, such as the 1549 entry ceremony for Charles V and his son Philip, and in print work ranging from prognostications to city views. Furthermore, its largely secular rhetoric was also on display in Latin eulogies lauding the city’s ancient and august lineage.47 7.3. Transcending Religious Diversity The challenges posed by religious diversity appear to have directly stimulated the growing secularisation of Antwerp’s civic image. For most rederijkers, vernacular rhetoric and religious reflection went hand in hand, and from the fifteenth century onwards they actively cultivated an image as lay religious instructors. Rhetoricians did not hesitate to present religious dilemmas to their audiences via poems and morality plays, and the Antwerp rederijkers were no different.48 In their early years, De Violieren had very good relations with the local clergy. For example, one of the chamber’s first princes was Jan van Parys (1487), who entered the priesthood after his wife’s death.49 In the sixteenth century, religion remained at the core of the chambers’ practices.50 The artists and artisans with rederijker backgrounds who came to Antwerp did so 45 Hugo Soly, “Het ‘verraad’ der 16de-eeuwse burgerij: een mythe? Enkele beschouwingen betreffende het gedragspatroon der 16de-eeuwse ondernemers”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 86, 1973, pp. 262–80; An M. Kint, “Theatre, trade and a city’s identity: the rhetorical plays in sixteenthcentury Antwerp”, in La ville à la Renaissance. Espaces-Représentations-Pouvoirs. Actes XXXIX colloque international d’études humanistes, ed. Gérald Chaix, Paris, 2008, pp. 327–36; Vandommele, Als in een spiegel, pp. 303–9. 46 See also An M. Kint, “The Ideology of Commerce: Antwerp in the Sixteenth Century”, in International Trade in the Low Countries (14th-16th Centuries). Merchants, Organisation, Infrastructure. Proceedings of the international Conference Ghent-Antwerp, 12th-13th January 1997, ed. Peter Stabel et al., Louvain, 2000, pp. 213–2. A recent reappreciation in Arjan van Dixhoorn, “The Values of Antwerp and the Prosperity of Belgica. Political Economy in Guicciardini’s Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (1567)”, in Netherlandish Yearbook for History of Art (theme number Trading Values in Early Modern Antwerp, eds Christine Göttler, Bart Ramakers & Joanna Woodall), 24, 2014, pp. 77–106. 47 O. Buyssens, “Antverpia mercatorum emporium actum 1515 (?). Wie schiep die grote houtsnede en andere gezichten op de rede van Antwerpen uit omstreeks die tijd”, in Mededelingen van de Academie van Marine van België, 6, 1952, pp. 171–200; Van der Stock, Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, pp. 176–80; Kint, The community of commerce, pp. 343–96. 48 Nelleke Moser, De strijd voor rhetorica. Poëtica en positie van rederijkers in Vlaanderen, Brabant, Zeeland en Holland tussen 1450 en 1620. Amsterdam 2001; Waite, Reformers on Stage. 49 De Liggeren, p. 40; see also many other notes in De Liggeren that point at a direct relationship with the local clergy. 50 See among others Werner Waterschoot, “De rederijkerskamers en de doorbraak van de reformatie in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 45–46, 1995–1996, pp. 141–53; Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “‘Of the King’s Edict I do You no Command’. Vernacular Literary Networks and the Reformation in the Low Countries”, in Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 99, 2008, pp. 229–55.

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to pursue their professional careers; yet, in some cases it is clear that they were also attracted by the city’s reputation as a comparatively tolerant locale and relative safe haven for religious dissidents. A particularly dramatic example is that of Peter Schuddematte, a schoolmaster and well-known rederijker from Oudenaarde, who left his hometown in the County of Flanders during the 1530s after he was convicted of heresy. Schuddematte came to Antwerp and became a prominent member of De Violieren. In 1545, however, he was accused of disseminating heretical writings, including a morality play and a ballade. Initially, the Antwerp Broad Council was reluctant to punish him and decided to deprive him of his burghership only after the authorities guaranteed that the parents of his pupils and his fellow rederijkers would be left undisturbed – despite this he was executed in 1547.51 Another high-profile trial in the Antwerp rederijker milieu was that of Frans Fraet, a printer and probable member of De Goudbloem, who was executed in 1558. Fraet wrote at least one Lutheran play and ballade, but the decisive reason for his sentence was his habit of printing forbidden books under false names.52 The executions of Peter Schuddematte and Frans Fraet show that Antwerp’s tolerance had its limits and the city magistracy began to regulate the rederijkers.53 In 1562 a ban was instituted on unofficial chambers of rhetoric, the so-called papgulden. However, these informal groups simply moved their activities to the surrounding villages, such as Berchem, Hoboken, Merksem, and Borgerhout.54 At the same time, throughout the 1550s and early 1560s the rederijkers’ focus increasingly shifted from publicly staged religious plays to closed poetry competitions, on which occasions individual poets – using their own, personal devices – recited verses (refreinen) debating religious issues. We only have very scattered data regarding these meetings because of their relatively private nature, but they mainly point back to Antwerp. All three official chambers organised closed refrein competitions during the 1550s and 1560s: De Olijftak in 1550, De Violieren in 1559, 1561, and 1562, and De Goudbloem in 1560 and 1564.55 As far as I can judge, most participants were inhabitants of Antwerp or came from Brabant’s smaller towns. In most cases only a few refreinen have survived, thanks to transcripts in manuscript collections. The 1556 refrein competition organised 51 Pieter Génard, “Personen te Antwerpen in de XVIe eeuw, voor het ‘feit van religie’ gerechtelijk vervolgd. Lijst en ambtelijke bijhoorige stukken”, in Antwerpsch Archievenblad, 8, s.d., pp. 37–45; Johan Decavele, De Dageraad van de Reformatie in Vlaanderen, vol. 1, Brussels, 1975, pp. 206–7, 268 and 374; Marnef, Antwerpen in de tijd van de Reformatie, p. 58; Waite, Reformers on Stage, p. 71. 52 Lode Roose, “De Antwerpse hervormingsgezinde rederijker Frans Fraet”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 19–20, 1969–1970, pp. 95–108; Paul Valkema Blouw, “The Van Oldenborch and Vanden Merberghe pseudonyms or Why Frans Fraet had to die”, in Quaerendo, 22, 1992, pp. 165–90 and 245–72; Marnef, Antwerpen in de tijd van de Reformatie, pp. 58 and 69; Waite, Reformers on Stage, pp. 71 and 74. 53 On Antwerp toleration politics, see Victoria Christman, Pragmatic Toleration. The Politics of Religious Heterodoxy in Early Reformation Antwerp, 1515–1555, Rochester, 2015. 54 Van Bruaene, Om beters wille, pp. 109–11. 55 Refereinen en andere Gedichten uit de XVIe eeuw verzameld en afgeschreven door Jan de Bruyne, ed. Karel Ruelens, 3 vols, Antwerp, 1879–1881 (no. 24, 44, 45, 86, 104, 131 and 132); Antonin Van Elslander, Het refrein in de Nederlanden tot 1600, Ghent, 1953, pp. 208, 213–14; Van Autenboer, Volksfeesten en rederijkers, p. 137.

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in Berchem, a village near Antwerp, is the best documented: more than twenty refreinen were transcribed in Jan de Bruyne’s collection.56 Many scholars have argued that a good deal of the surviving production of these refrein competitions is quite religiously engaged and even polemical in tone.57 Furthermore, this activity points towards growing individualisation within the rederijker’s faith-inspired practices. Two factors contributed to this process. First of all, both local and central censorship made it increasingly difficult publicly and collectively to express religious ideas. The most concerted effort to check the rederijker’s activities was King Philip II’s 1560 edict banning religious theatre, poetry, and songs.58 Secondly, Antwerp rederijkers increasingly diverged in their religious views. Some, such as the famous factor of De Goudbloem, Cornelis van Ghistele, who adapted the texts of classical authors such as Ovidius, Vergilius, Terentius, Sophocles, and Horatius and of humanists such as Erasmus, chose a religiously neutral, humanist orientation, while others adhered to a variety of Reformed ideas.59 Two consecutive factors of De Violieren, Jan vanden Berghe and Willem van Haecht, had clear Lutheran sympathies.60 Jeronimus vander Voort, the rederijker from Lier who became factor of De Goudbloem in the 1580s, was a convinced Calvinist by the time of his appointment. In fact, the evidence suggests that as a young man, he had held more moderate views before being influenced by more engaged rederijkers.61 All in all, however, closed refrein competitions offered a relatively safe context for discussion and debate without direct pressure to conform.62 Yet at the same time, the growing individualisation and confessionalisation within the rederijker milieu itself did not lead to the withdrawal of Antwerp’s rhetoricians from the public sphere. On the contrary, many rederijkers became highly involved in the ‘invention’ of Antwerp, i.e. the creation of an idealised image of a moral community that confidently transcended diversity. Even as the Antwerp rederijkers resorted to traditional techniques such as the staging 56 Refereinen en andere Gedichten. 57 Van Elslander, Het refrein, pp. 208–19; Dirk Coigneau, “‘Tot Babels schande’. Een Refreinfeestbundel in het Calvinistische Brussel (1581)”, in Spiegel der Letteren, 43, 2001, 3, pp. 209–10. On the Jan de Bruyne collection, see Guido Marnef, “Chambers of Rhetoric and the transmission of religious ideas in the Low Countries”, in Cultural Exchange in Early Modern Europe. Volume 1. Religion and Cultural Exchange in Europe, 1400–1700, eds Heinz Schilling & István György Tóth, Cambridge, 2007, pp. 284–8. 58 Van Bruaene, “Of the King’s Edict”, pp. 229–30. 59 Mireille Vinck-Van Caekenberghe, “Het leven van Cornelis van Ghistele, rederijker en humanist (1510/11–1573)”, in Jaarboek de Fonteine, 33, 1982–1983, pp. 65–6, 83 en 95. See also Mireille VinckVan Caekenberghe, Een onderzoek naar het leven, het werk en de literaire opvattingen van Cornelis van Ghistele (1510/11–1573), rederijker en humanist, Ghent, 1996. 60 Jo Steenbergen, “De apostelspelen van Willem van Haecht”, in Liber Alumnorum Prof. Dr E. Rombauts, Louvain, 1968, pp. 166–77; Bart Ramakers, “Maer en beroemt u niet! Het eerste ‘Spel van Sinnen van dWerck der Apostelen’ van Willem van Haecht”, in Wat duikers vent is dit! Opstellen voor W.M.H. Hummelen, eds G. R. W. Dibbets & P.MW. Wackers, Wijhe, 1989, pp. 156–9; Marnef, Antwerpen in de tijd van de Reformatie, pp. 59–60; Coigneau, “Tot Babels schande”, p. 210; Yvonne Bleyerveld, “Redding door Gods Genade. De samenstelling van een prentserie van Willem van Haecht (1578)”, in Kunstlicht, 23, 2002, pp. 20–5. 61 Coigneau, “De Goudbloem”. 62 Van Bruaene, “Of the King’s Edict”, pp. 242–9.

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of tableaux vivants during processions and entry ceremonies, they contributed to the development of innovative discourses and media and the 1561 landjuweel is a striking case in point.63 As the winner of the previous landjuweel competition, which had been held in Diest in 1541, it was the duty of De Violieren to organise the next festival and the city council believed that the conclusion of the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis in 1559 was a good opportunity to fulfill its obligations. Yet, the central government decided to leave nothing to chance in the wake of the 1560 edict. Negotiations between the city and the governess took several months. It was made very clear that religious or political themes, which had been common in earlier contests, were absolutely forbidden. Therefore, De Violieren presented the governess’ council with a list of possible themes for the morality plays, the most important prize-winning category, for pre-approval. Although many of these referred to economic matters, consensus was eventually reached on a general moral question: “What awakens men most to the arts?”64 The competing chambers of rhetoric had no trouble in adopting this noncontroversial discourse and formulating apt answers. As Jeroen Vandommele argues in his recent analysis of the 1561 landjuweel plays, the rederijkers positioned themselves as vernacular humanists pleading for comprehensive education of the young and for greater access to knowledge among middle-class men, in the liberal arts in particular.65 The royal typographer, Willem Silvius, extended the reach of the festival – which was staged against the backdrop of the unfinished Renaissance city hall – with a luxurious 1562 volume containing most of the festival texts and woodcuts of many of the tableaux vivants (Fig. 7.1).66 At least one foreign merchant, Richard Clough, ensured its Europe-wide fame by sending a long letter containing a laudatory and elaborate description to his patron, Thomas Gresham.67 As an exercise in public relations, the landjuweel proved highly successful. The city’s rederijkers earned a reputation as unrivalled festival architects and Antwerp itself established a firm public image as a city of commerce built on peace, knowledge, and morality.68

63 On the traditional elements in the landjuweel of 1561, see Samuel Mareel, Voor vorst en stad. Rederijkersliteratuur en vorstenfeest in Vlaanderen en Brabant (1432–1561), Amsterdam, 2010, pp. 227–31. 64 Eugeen Van Autenboer, Het Brabants landjuweel, pp. 48–56. 65 Vandommele, Als in een spiegel, p. 200. 66 Spelen van sinne vol scoone moralisacien, uutleggingen en bediedenissen op alle loeflijcke consten waer inne men claerlijck ghelijck in eenen spieghel, Figuerlijck, Poetelijck ende Retorijckelijck mach aenschouwen hoe nootsakelijck ende dienstelijck die selve consten allen menschen zijn, ed. Willem Silvius, Antwerp, 1562. See also the monumental modern edition by Ruud Ryckaert: De Antwerpse spelen van 1561, naar de editie Silvius (Antwerpen 1562), uitgegeven met inleiding , annotaties en registers, ed. Ruud Ryckaert, 2 vols, Ghent, 2011. 67 John William Burgon, The Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham, Knt., Founder of the Royal Exchange, vol. 1, London, 1839, pp. 377–91. A discussion of the letter in Van Bruaene, “A wonderfull tryumfe”, pp. 374–5. 68 De Antwerpse spelen, pp. 191–93.

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Figure 7.1. Invitation for the 1561 landjuweel competition. Woodcut reproduced in Spelen van sinne vol scoone moralisacien, uutleggingen en bediedenissen op alle loeflijcke consten waer inne men claerlijck ghelijck in eenen spieghel, Figuerlijck, Poetelijck ende Retorijckelijck mach aenschouwen hoe nootsakelijck ende dienstelijck die selve consten allen menschen zijn, printed by Willem Silvius, Antwerp, 1562, University Library Ghent.

Many of the rederijkers who composed plays for the landjuweel were also frequent guests at the closed refrein competitions for which they had written often quite engaged poetry. Thus, by the early 1560s, most Antwerp rederijkers and their Brabant counterparts had mastered different discourses: one public, non-controversial, and humanist inspired and one that was private, religiously preoccupied, and frequently highly polemical.69 Another example of this somewhat contradictory mindset is the rather bizarre rederijker event that took place in 1574. The wardens of the parish church of St Jacob decided to organise a lottery in an effort to raise funds for the restoration of their church, which had been damaged by iconoclasm. In order to raise the stakes, rederijkers from inside and outside Antwerp were asked to submit refreinen on questions such as “How necessary and useful is the Church?” The contributions were printed in little books, the title pages of which functioned as lottery tickets.70 Again, many rederijkers contributed who, on other occasions, had clearly expressed Reformed sympathies. A good example is Willem van Haecht, De Violieren’s factor at the landjuweel, who at the start of the 1560s wrote and staged a few very controversial plays based on the Acts of the Apostles. He had left Antwerp in 1566, but had returned in the early 1570s after the Duke of Alba’s General Pardon. Eventually, in the late

69 This is also the main argument of Waterschoot, “De rederijkerskamers en de doorbraak van de reformatie”. 70 F. K. H. Kossmann, “Rederijkersgedichten voor de loterij der Sint Jacobskerk te Antwerpen 1574”, in De Gulden Passer, 4, 1926, pp. 1–18.

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1570s he openly professed his Lutheran beliefs.71 While the contributions of Van Haecht and other Reform-minded rederijkers to the 1574 lottery skillfully avoid praise for the Catholic Church, their participation remains remarkable, at the very least.72 It is also in accordance with Koenraad Jonckheere’s recent findings that in the decades following the 1566 iconoclasm, artists in the Southern Low Countries were trying to develop a new, religiously compromising visual language.73 In one sense, the need for Antwerp’s civic community to establish a public image that avoided controversy in order to accommodate diversity and promote social stability foreshadowed these artistic developments. 7.4. Antwerp Festival in Print In both the 1561 landjuweel and 1574 lottery, the rederijkers’ moderate public discourse was mediated by print. This was in keeping with the practice of publishing pamphlets and books commemorating civic festivals such as joyous entries, texts that had become increasingly common in the Low Countries since the start of the sixteenth century. The oldest known publication celebrating an entry ceremony in the Low Countries – namely that of Emperor Maximilian of Austria – was printed in Ghent in 1509, although no copy is extant. In 1515, the entry of Charles V into Bruges was commemorated in two books: a French publication printed in Paris and a Dutch text, which was written by the rederijker Jan de Scheerere and printed in Antwerp by Adriaen van Berghen.74 That same year, Antwerp printer Jan de Gheet published a book in Latin on the occasion of Charles V’s entry into Antwerp, including woodcuts and music composed by Benedictus de Opitiis, the Church of Our Lady’s organist and prince of De Violieren.75 In the following years (1519, 1520, 1540, 1545), Antwerp humanists published short, Latin descriptions of dynastic events.76 Undoubtedly the most widely publicised festival was the 1549 entry ceremony of Charles V and Philip II. Amongst others, Pieter Coecke van Aelst edited a detailed description by city secretary and humanist Cornelius Grapheus in three languages – Latin, French, and Dutch – complete with woodcuts of the decorations.77 However, it was not until 1539 that the first attempt was made to publish the texts from a rederijker contest. In that year, a Ghent printer, Joos Lambrecht, published two books containing, respectively, the refreinen and moralities of 71 On Willem van Haecht, see note 60. 72 Van Bruaene, “Of the King’s Edict”, pp. 251–2. 73 Koenraad Jonckheere, Antwerp Art after Iconoclasm. Experiments in Decorum, 1566–1585, Brussels, 2012. More particularly on the rederijkers, see Bertram Kaschek, Weltzeit und Endzeit. Die Monatsbilder Pieter Bruegels d.Ä, München, 2012, pp. 69–85. 74 Mareel, Voor vorst en stad, 128–39. 75 Annelies Wouters & Etienne Schreurs, “Het bezoek van keizer Maximiliaan en de Blijde Intrede van aartshertog Karel (Antwerpen, 1508–1515)”, in Musica Antiqua, 12, 1995, pp. 100–10. For Benedictus de Opitiis’ involvement in De Violieren, see De Liggeren, p. 83. 76 Landwehr, Splendid Ceremonies, pp. 67–70. 77 Ibidem, pp. 73–5; Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power, pp. 22–5.

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a rederijker festival that had taken place in his city a few months earlier.78 The Ghent plays gained immediate notoriety because of their presumed Lutheran tendencies, which landed them a place on a list of forbidden books in 1540 and the later Louvain indexes of 1546, 1550, and 1558. Antwerp’s Violieren had taken first prize in this theatre competition and the Scheldt city’s printers illegally republished the plays in the following years. Frans Fraet may have been among these anonymous printers (see above).79 From these examples it is clear that the Antwerp rederijkers were involved both in the staging of festivals and, in various contexts, in the composing, editing, and printing of their memoria. In addition, these rhetoricians frequently employed the medium of print in support of their own, local performances. In 1526, the dean of De Violieren had the device of the chamber printed on single, in-quarto sheets.80 In 1556, Gillis van Diest printed a comic play written by Peter de Herpener and staged by De Violieren in celebration of the Peace of Vaucelles.81 During the 1561 landjuweel, printed sheets with songs, rebuses, and the chambers’ devices were distributed to the audience.82 The rederijkers’ most innovative use of the printing press centred on their reinvention of Antwerp’s ommegangen. Since the fourteenth century, Antwerp had held three annual city-wide religious processions celebrating the Circumcision, the Holy Sacrament, and Our Lady. These events combined a traditional cortege of the established corporations – such as the religious orders, the city magistracy, and the craft guilds – with tableaux vivants on wagons representing religious and secular subjects, which ranged from saints to the mythical giant Druoon Antigoon.83 In the late 1550s, however, the rederijkers introduced a new format for the ommegangen by designing more complex allegorical plays staged on successive wagons. In addition, Hans de Laet, city printer and board member of De Violieren, printed small booklets with descriptions of these pieces that probably functioned as explanatory programmes for the audience.84 Seven of these descriptions or “ordinances” are extant for the years spanning 1559 to 1566 and three of them are attributed to Willem van Haecht, factor of De Violieren. Remarkably, these texts all present secular, ethical subjects with humanist

78 B. H. Erné & L. M. van Dis (eds), De Gentse spelen van 1539, 2 vols, The Hague, 1982. 79 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, “Printing Plays. The Publication of the Ghent Plays of 1539 and the Reaction of the Authorities”, in Dutch Crossing, 24, 2000, 2, pp. 265–84. 80 De Liggeren, p. 108. 81 Mareel, Voor vorst en stad, 227–8. See also the reference in De Liggeren, pp. 189–90 and the chamber’s devise, printed for this occasion: Cockx-Indestege & Waterschoot, Uyt Ionsten Versaemt, pp. 94–5. 82 Vandommele, Als in een spiegel, p. 33; De Antwerpse spelen, p. 204. 83 Leo de Burbure, De Antwerpsche ommegangen in de XIVde en XVde eeuw, Antwerp, 1878; John Cartwright, “Forms and their Uses: the Antwerp Ommegangen, 1550–1700”, in Festive Drama, ed. Meg Twycross, Cambridge, 1996, pp. 119–31; Thøfner, A Common Art, passim; Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, pp. 89–110. 84 Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, p. 92.

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discourses related to those of the landjuweel and other public, festive events.85 For example, the Circumcision and Our Lady ommegangen of 1564 promoted the city’s commercial ideology, while in 1566, only two days before iconoclast riots struck Antwerp, the Our Lady procession was devoted to “the Present Time” (Den Tijt present), and employed an elaborate allegory in order to condemn all forms of social disorder.86 Who was the audience for these discourses? The ordinances were cheap, rather carelessly edited books and may even have been distributed for free by the city magistracy.87 Yet, these features reveal more about their intended purpose – the quick consumption of information and ideas – than their intended audience. As has been shown for other European cities, these kinds of inexpensive festive pamphlets were eagerly bought and read by higher social groups.88 It seems very unlikely that the printed ordinances were aimed at Antwerp’s mass of unschooled labourers and poor immigrants. Furthermore, there are other indications that while their messages were accessible to a wide audience, the community-building function of Antwerp’s ommegangen must not be overstated. On the one hand, the processions all took place in the civic centre and avoided the poorer quarters of Antwerp.89 On the other hand – as An Kint points out – the merchants never participated as a distinct social group. Rather, craft guilds traditionally dominated the religious processions, and this remained the case throughout the sixteenth century.90 Essentially, the ommegangen were city-sponsored, middle-class events affirming middle-class ideology. In my view, the transformation of the ommegangen in terms of their subject matter and format – if not their audiences and participants – and the publication of the ordinances highlight the ‘counterfeit’ nature of the Antwerp civic community. However, this certainly does not mean that there was any fundamental opposition between ‘real’, small-town communities and ‘fake’, metropolitan Antwerp; indeed, a common flaw of much of the work on civic ritual is that it downplays social conflict.91 But the fact is that, compared with its counterparts in smaller towns, the group of artists responsible for Antwerp’s public rituals was much more willing to acknowledge the crafted, artificial nature of festival. 85 Floris Prims, “De Antwerpsche ommeganck op den vooravond van de beeldstormerij”, in Mededeelingen van de Koninklijke Vlaamsche Academie voor wetenschappen, letteren en schoone kunsten van België – klasse der letteren, 8, 1946, 5, pp. 4–21; Jo Steenbergen, “De auteur van de Antwerpse ommeganck-ordonnantie Anno 1566”, in De Gulden Passer, 25, 1947, pp. 297–312; Thøfner, A common art, pp. 66–9; Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, pp. 142–93. 86 Peter Arnade, Beggars, Iconoclasts & Civic Patriots. The Political Culture of the Dutch Revolt, Ithaca, 2008, pp. 133–48. 87 Hans de Laet was remunerated by the city for his printwork; Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, p. 92. 88 See the discussion in Jouhaud, “Printing the event” and Nussdorfer, “Print and Pageantry”. 89 Kint, The community of commerce, pp. 379–81; Meadow, “Met geschickter ordenen”; Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, pp. 95 and 410. 90 Kint, The community of commerce, p. 382. Cf. Bert De Munck, Guilds, Labour and the Urban Body Politic. Fabricating Community in the Southern Netherlands, 1300–1800, New York, 2018, pp. 246–52. 91 See e.g. for the Low Countries, the otherwise excellent book of Bart Ramakers, Spelen en figuren. Toneelkunst en processiecultuur in Oudenaarde tussen Middeleeuwen en Moderne Tijd, Amsterdam, 1996.

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Figure 7.2. Cornelis Cort after Maarten van Heemskerck, Engravings from The Cycle of the Vicissitudes of Human Affairs, printed by Hieronymus Cock, 1564. The Metropolitan Museum New York.

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It confidently promoted intellectual over affective discourses, novelty over tradition, and made growing use of print as a didactic and commemorative aid. Altogether, Antwerp’s rederijkers literally and consciously turned festival into art. The most striking case in point is that of the engraved allegorical prints inspired by the ommegangen ordinances. The oldest extant series, published in 1564 by Hieronymus Cock, was designed by Maarten van Heemskerck and meant to be a faithful rendering of the 1561 Circumcision procession ordinance. Its theme was “The Cycle of the Vicissitudes of Human Affairs” (Fig. 7.2).92 Cock was an active member of De Violieren, as were other artists and publishers involved in the execution and edition of later series, such as Pieter Baltens and Maarten de Vos.93 The engraved series are of a very high artistic quality. Yet, most of them were conceived as decontextualised moral exempla and do not refer directly to Antwerp. It is therefore hard to subscribe to Emily J. Peters’ view that festival and print in Antwerp essentially served the same social function: that of binding the community together; or her contention that print alone did so between 1567 and 1585 when, due to the political and religious unrest, no elaborate processions were held.94 More convincing is Christopher Heuer’s analysis of the print work of Hans Vredeman de Vries, who combined the roles of rederijker, festival director and print designer. Heuer stresses the utopian quality of Vredeman de Vries’ engravings and sees a parallel with the endeavours of Antwerp’s governors to police urban space and control the urban community. However, these findings should not cause us to uncritically rehabilitate the older, ‘elitist’ view of Renaissance festival. As Maarten van Dijck’s recent work shows, after 1550 the drive for a more restrictive urban policy came from precisely the same middling groups to which the rederijkers so prominently belonged.95 7.5. Conclusion In various ways, Antwerp was a counterfeit community. Firstly, its civic culture showed a great likeness to that of other Netherlandish cities and towns. In a sense, it was even the sum of these civic cultures, since rederijkers from all over the Low Countries came to Antwerp on a temporary or permanent basis and brought their experiences with them. Of course, Antwerp had its own festive traditions, but these were constantly reinterpreted by newcomers and fuelled with new ideas. Secondly, Antwerp festival created a highly polished portrait of

92 Williams & Jacquot, “Ommegangs anversois”; Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts. 93 Cock, Baltens and De Vos were all involved in the organisation of the landjuweel of 1561; CockxIndestege & Waterschoot, Uyt Ionsten Versaemt, pp. 70 and 81. 94 Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts. See also Thøfner, A Common Art, pp. 96–102. 95 See amongst others Maarten F. Van Dijck, “Towards an economic interpretation of justice? Conflict settlement, social control and civil society in urban Brabant and Mechelen during the late Middle Ages and the early modern period”, in Serving the urban community. The rise of public facilities in the Low Countries, eds Manon van der Heijden, Elise van Nederveen Meerkerk, Griet Vermeesch & Martijn van der Burg, Amsterdam, 2009, pp. 62–88.

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the city’s society, while prints, pamphlets, and festival books offered textual or visual commentary on that portrait. Print also turned festival, and eventually Antwerp itself, into a commodity because many of these books and engravings were highly sought after on the international art market.96 This was not an elite enterprise, however, as most of the artists, printers, and rederijkers involved shared a middle-class background. Yet, at the same time, due to the challenges posed by religious diversity, the Antwerp rederijkers developed complex social identities. As amateurs they formed vernacular literary networks that enabled them to exchange their personal opinions with comparative freedom. But as festival makers and professional artists they carefully and consciously crafted Antwerp’s public self-image as a confident metropolis sustained by a close-knit moral community, undaunted by the dangers of “the Present Time”.

96 Peters, Den gheheelen loop des weerelts, pp. 343–53; Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the Market. Commercialization of Art in Antwerp’s Golden Age, Turnhout, 2003, p. 92.

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Literary Renaissance in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp? 8.1. Professionalising Literature There is a long tradition of presenting the literature of the rhetoricians’ chambers as an artificial extension of medieval literary works. As a result, and just as true to tradition, the literary historiography of the Low Countries does not allow the Renaissance to flourish until the seventeenth century – and, even then, primarily in their northern provinces. For that reason, in part, historians of the Dutch Republic prefer to speak in terms of a Golden Age, with august luminaries like Pieter Cornelisz. Hooft, Constantijn Huygens, Joost van den Vondel, and Gerbrand Adriaensz. Bredero. In so doing, a slight preliminary phase in the Southern Netherlands is of course mentioned, designated for the most part as an ‘early Renaissance’. In that case literary historians will consider the sonnets of Jan van der Noot and Lucas d’Heere, above all, starting from the 1560s onward. They see a similar preliminary phase in the north, too, with a Renaissance-like character in the form of a sort of humanism in the vernacular. That humanism was oriented above all towards decontaminating the language and establishing a ‘Standardised (and Civilised) Dutch’, under the leadership of Leiden’s Jan van Hout, Haarlem’s Dirk Volkertsz Coornhert, and Amsterdam’s Hendrik Laurensz Spieghel. The actual Renaissance in literature, though, supposedly plays out rather exclusively in cities within the county of Holland during the first half of the seventeenth century, with Amsterdam in the fore. The development of such concepts has carried along in its wake not only Peter Burke in his treatise on Antwerp as a commercial metropolis; it is also still inextricably present in the new history of Dutch literature from 2008, namely, in the third volume treating the period 1560–1700. Its table of contents shows that the distinction from “The early Renaissance” is still being made, represented by d’Heere and Van der Noot. The opening sentence of this section, too, is quite telling. It immediately denies any possible connections between the enterprise of the rhetoricians and the Renaissance or, what is more, rather suggests that the one could come to flower only independently of the other: “The first products of the Renaissance which stood out arose outside of the chambers [of rhetoric] …”.1 There is, however, quite a lot to be said in favour of connecting the Renaissance in literature precisely with those literary works of the rhetoricians. In that regard it concerns the literary enterprise organised within the cities, which took shape 1 Peter Burke, Antwerp, a Metropolis in Comparative Perspective, Antwerp, 1993, pp. 37–8; Karel Porteman et al., Een nieuw vaderland voor de muzen. Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse literatuur, 1560–1700, Amsterdam, 2008. Herman Pleij • Universiteit van Amsterdam Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 173–194.

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in the so-called chambers. Within that new framework fundamental changes in the form, content, and intention of literature were put into practice. This new literary œuvre sustains an unprecedented flourishing until after the middle of the sixteenth century. It is then that innovation breaks through in the south with sonnet, epic, tragedy, and comedy according to French and Italian models. Yet to speak of Renaissance literature just in the case of this formal innovation, independent of the chambers, fails to recognise the multifaceted innovations that were definitively established around 1500. That renewal involves using the mother tongue as an artistic instrument, having professional regard for the poet, paying attention to new text genres and, above all, also elevating ancient civilisation as a shining example. If such characteristics are viewed as making the difference in being able to speak of the Renaissance in literature and visual art – and that is not uncustomary in the rest of Europe – then even in the Low Countries there is every reason to have the Renaissance in literature begin around 1500. That is already the custom, for that matter, as concerns the Netherlandish visual arts.2 Antwerp played an unmistakable leading role in this process. There they were not burdened by the weighty artistic traditions with which the cities of Bruges, Ghent, and Brussels had been saddled as a result of their rich medieval past. From the end of the fifteenth century, after all, the city had grown at a hasty pace from a modest marketplace without any court life, aristocrats, or well-to-do merchants into an international commercial metropolis. The rapidly developing printing press did not have to cement its position from a flourishing manuscript industry, and the rhetoricians’ chambers scarcely knew any competition from powerful institutions like civic militias, religious fraternities, and guilds that also engaged in literature. Moreover, there were also no official court authors or municipal poets as in other cities, much as semi-noble and aristocratic associations dedicated to music, literature, and dance were lacking as well. All of that opened up attractive possibilities for developing new ways of stylising and organising artistically.3 After all, the rapidly acquired ambiance of a cosmopolis demanded its own literary expression and organisation. In the course of the fifteenth century those aspects took on definitive shape in the rhetoricians’ chambers as proponents of elite cultural movements who made use of the word. The municipal chambers had lofty pretensions, ventured out into the world, and played a pre-eminent

2 In general, see Herman Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord. Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse literatuur, 1400–1560, Amsterdam, 2007, pp. 296–333 and 670–717; cf. Herman Pleij, Nederlandse literatuur van de late Middeleeuwen, Utrecht, 1990, pp. 7–16 and 158–91. 3 Jan Van der Stock (ed.), Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, 16de – 17de eeuw, Ghent, 1993; Inge Bertels et al. (ed.), Antwerpen: biografie van een stad, Antwerp, 2010; Jan Van der Stock (ed.), Stad in Vlaanderen. Cultuur en maatschappij, 1477–1787, Brussels, 1991; Herman Pleij, “Gent en de stadscultuur in de Nederlanden”, in Hugo Soly et al. (eds), Carolus – Keizer Karel V, 1500–1558, Ghent, 1999, pp. 123–31; Herman Pleij, “Het beeld van Brussel in de literatuur van de late Middeleeuwen en vroegmoderne tijd”, in Met passer en penseel. Brussel en het oude hertogdom Brabant in beeld, Brussels, 2000, pp. 140–8; Jos Koldeweij et al. eds., Liefde & Devotie. Het Gruuthusehandschrift: kunst en cultuur omstreeks 1400, Bruges, 2013.

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role in municipal amusements as well as in ceremonies surrounding the territorial sovereign and his family. Moreover, they set up an extensive repertoire of morality plays, carefully kept in their own archives.4 Typical for the dynamism of the Antwerp chambers was a regional competition in stage presentations, organised in 1496 by the local chamber The Gillyflowers (De Violieren) as a drama tournament (landjuweel, literally: ‘jewel of the land’, named after the competition’s brilliant prize). This festival turned out to be so successful that the Brabant chambers launched an entire series of such landjuweel contests. Sadly, nothing remains of the texts produced. In the framework of promoting the city, they made a huge event of it. The twenty-eight participating chambers of rhetoric arrived over land and water, in their most splendid uniforms. In order to provoke them into giving a top-class performance while already at this level, multiple prizes were offered for the most spectacular displays made during their entrance. Thus, for example, there were distinctions awarded for the most splendid firework displays – on the evenings afterwards, too – for the silliest performance by the chamber’s fool, and for the most foolish street show by that joker as well as the entire company. In presenting the chamber, precisely such shows not only had to profile the company and its city of origin, but also functioned as an opening note to the spectacle that the citizenry could expect over the coming days. For this, too, municipal administrations provided subsidies in the form of appropriate attire and other materials for appearing in public away from stage venues. Chambers were also invited from the Francophone region. Certainly in the fifteenth century, the rhetoricians were still glad to go beyond this difference in language, which indicates not only the extensive bilingualism amongst these urban practitioners of the rhetorical arts, but also the heavy accent on making things comprehensible through observation by means of spectacular staging. The morality play was expected to contain an answer to the question of which was the most useful yet also the most unfathomable favour that God had provided to humankind for its salvation. In so doing, the play had to fulfil a long series of requirements, which at the same time formed the criteria for judging it. The necessity to present something new, in line with form and content, that had never been shown before was absolute. Moreover, chambers from abroad ought to feel a calling to glorify the city inviting them. They were the appointed institutions for promoting cities, after all, such that even where a city other than theirs was concerned they were expected to contribute to that city’s radiance. For that reason, the card inviting the participating chambers to this landjuweel asked them, among other things, to compete for a prize for

4 Herman Pleij, “The Late Middle Ages and the Age of the Rhetoricians, 1400–1560”, in A Literary History of the Low Countries, ed. Theo Hermans, Rochester, 2009, pp. 96–129.

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the “most excellent, most artful, and best prologue play, most honouring the city of Antwerp”.5 As an institution the chamber of rhetoric could be compared with a religious fraternity or a craft guild. Only in this framework was the focus inclusively on writing and declaiming poetry as well as planning and producing plays, always in the name of the ‘art of rhetoric’ (const van retorike) in reference to the doctrine of eloquence from Antiquity. The city, the regional authorities and, in addition, potentially, another leading chamber recognised the existence of a chamber by approving its rules and regulations. Furthermore, the veneration of ‘rhetoric’ was accentuated by an unprecedented hunger for competition, which could be very readily connected with the new urban élan. Time and again the high points in the life of a rhetorician consisted of contests, both inside the local chamber in individual shows of strength as well as at large festivals over several days, to which chambers thronged from near and far. Inside the chambers there was continual practice on variations for designated topics and examples, always in the presence of a jury. Literature had become prizefighting. Rhetoric was in fact a direct invitation for doing so: convincing did mean winning, after all. In the process the poet as an artist of rhetoric and source of civilisation broke free of the scribe, secretary, and schoolmaster that he had also once been. That went hand in hand with the enhancement and embellishment of his instrument, the mother tongue. That was what he was able to touch an audience with, to upset them, to move and to persuade them. Little by little the conviction grew that Latin was rather stiff, formal, and compact, and actually too concise for the all-out reproduction of emotions, individual feelings, and personal opinions. That was the purpose for which the vernacular then had to be made ready. That recognition of the vernacular’s full potential in its own right and of its extra qualities which Latin supposedly lacked led to detailed descriptions of the native language and, above all, its decontamination. It was difficult to accept that this precious instrument might consist of a mixture of all sorts of components from elsewhere or that it was little more than a bastard form of locally lapsed Latin. In order to determine its essential authenticity norms were needed, and models. It was the great poets in their midst who had to designate these standards and help develop them further.6

5 excellenste, constichste ende beste prologe, die stadt van Antwerpen meest eerende, cited in E. van Autenboer, “Een ‘Landjuweel’ te Antwerpen in 1496?”, in Jaarboek De Fonteine, 29, 1978/1979, I, pp. 125–49; J. Oosterman et al. (ed.), Kamers, kunst en competitie. Teksten en documenten uit de rederijkerstijd, Amsterdam, 2001, pp. 81–88; Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Om beters wille. Rederijkerskamers en de stedelijke cultuur in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden (1400–1650), Amsterdam, 2008, pp. 91–2. 6 Van Bruaene, Om beters wille; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 296–333; Nelleke Moser, De strijd voor rhetorica. Poëtica en positie van rederijkers in Vlaanderen, Brabant, Zeeland en Holland tussen 1450 en 1620, Amsterdam, 2001.

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8.2. Making Poetry is an Art Without a doubt, the champion of the new rhetorical arts was the Antwerp poetess Anna Bijns (1493–1575). Her work showed that making poetry not only consisted of composing texts like a craftsman, but also required specific talents with which such a craftsman had to be gifted. Certainly in the first half of the sixteenth century, she enjoyed great acclaim for her art of making refrains. She was one of the first authors of Dutch literary works whose œuvre was printed, inlaid with expressions of praise, during her lifetime. Moreover, she proved to be a success quite rapidly. Collections of her refrains were reprinted time after time, and her first collection from 1528 appeared immediately in a Latin translation as well. As a result she also acquired for herself a certain reputation in humanist circles, even abroad, on account of her exceptional art of rational reasoning. And although she was not allowed to be a member of a rhetoricians’ chamber officially, she was indeed active in their midst. Everything proved to be possible for enterprising and talented women in Antwerp, in part because their business fell outside the rules of the game and, as a result, knew no bounds. Inside the chamber, Anna felt like a fish in water. She could hold her own with everyone by means of her baffling verbal barrage, which must repeatedly have filled her fellow rhetoricians with deep admiration. Complicated rhyme chains swung through her stanzas and lines of verse; alliterations gave each text its own cadence; slightly varying repetitions set the listeners out on another path time and again; yet the ever-returning stock line hammered home a compelling rectitude in it. She created such effects in her ballads and rondels also, inasmuch as these offered comparable possibilities: the challenge there was more in constructing text around provocative sayings. Yet the refrain still suited her best. With an identical but complicated rhyme scheme, every stanza gave reason to explicate varying arguments and emotions, which was always supposed to end with the conclusion repeated in the stock. As a result this form was extremely suitable for persuading and provoking, like a repeatedly cutting battle axe. In that respect, for the most part Anna scarcely went to work in a subtle sense. With her unprecedented mastery of form and linguistic virtuosity she knew how to elevate the refrain to a mouth-piece that seemed natural for the highest indignation as well as the deepest feeling. All of that hit home even more harshly as a result of the oral character of these rhetorical arts. That nature concerned declamations meant to evoke emotions in the presence of companies that hardly ever desired beforehand to share in the passion and opinions they were presented with. In addition, and precisely in Antwerp, many rhetoricians had Erasmian sympathies or even dared to position themselves as pronouncedly reformist, much as Anna’s adamant satires about the backbone of the family could not be equally pleasing to every pater or mater familias in her audience. Her refrains were built upon such public confrontations. In so doing, the public was continually addressed explicitly, just as the individual(s) to whom a refrain could be directed in a narrower sense: Luther,

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his foolish followers, impotent monks, cheating lovers, the domineering wife, and the hen-pecked husband.7 Her innovating exercises in the mother tongue showed a remarkable resemblance to what painters in Antwerp were doing. Amongst them, between circa 1515 and 1535, an excessively artificial style was materialising, which came to be known as Antwerp mannerism. The old-school realism of the Flemish primitives had to make room for unusual and extreme depictions of appearance and behaviour. Everything was theatrically adorned, full of emotional gestures and different forms of expression. Anna Bijns’ work, which came into flower precisely during this period, corresponded to such expression in many respects. Just like the painters, she distorted and decorated word and reality alike in the service of her compelling messages and extreme sensitivity. And, just as with theirs, the skilfulness she showed was intended at the same time as a song of praise to the Creator. She showed what could be brought forth with the talent and material provided by Him. Rhetoricians and painters were also literally under one another’s skin in Antwerp. The Gillyflowers rhetoricians’ chamber was merged with the local Guild of Saint Luke, in which painters, printmakers, and printers had come together. What is more, the activities of the rhetoricians could be seen as the literary division of the overarching guild, much as many multi-talented members also appeared there.8 The new rhetorical arts came from the etuis of writers out of their own urban milieu whom they could look up to. It was a matter of civilised poets now with an enhanced, sometimes enigmatic and, as a result, that much more intriguing use of their mother tongue. Instead of professional entertainers passing through, who delivered texts for pay and declaimed to edify, instruct, and delight– preferably all three at the same time – these new poets and performers presented themselves as the talented elect. They had talent, prided themselves on that, and enjoyed admiration commensurate to it. Avid disciples hung onto their every word in the chambers, so as to test and measure their own talents. Because of his status as visionary the poet was supposed to elucidate the divine plan for salvation, both in retrospect as well as with an eye to the hereafter. Technique alone was not enough to be able to carry out that task. The poet was gifted with that very status as visionary by the Holy Ghost, who had breathed his talent into him as sublime inspiration. All that clarifying, proclaiming, and prophesying came down to being as persuasive as possible. And that is where ‘art’ came into the proceedings, an inspired combination of means and techniques with which language was cast into special forms and structures. Only such deviating use of 7 Herman Pleij, Anna Bijns, van Antwerpen, Amsterdam, 2011; Herman Pleij, “Anna Bijns (1493–1575). A Poetess in Antwerp”, in The Low Countries, 21, 2013, pp. 114–31; Anna Bijns, Meer zuurs dan zoets. Refreinen en rondelen, Amsterdam, 2013. 8 Paul Vandenbroeck, “Late Gothic Mannerism in Antwerp. On the Significance of a ‘Contrived’ Style”, in Jaarboek Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, 2004/2005, pp. 301–30; Augustus Keersmakers, “De rederijkerskamers te Antwerpen: kanttekeningen in verband met ontstaan, samenstelling en ondergang”, in Varia Historica Brabantica, 6–7, 1978, pp. 173–86; Pleij, Anna Bijns, pp. 154–5.

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language could succeed in pointing large groups of people to what threatened them on earth, to where the right path to salvation ran, and to how beautiful earthly existence nevertheless could be.9 Anna Bijns was very prodigious with casting around the professional terminology that characterised the true art of the rhetorician. She continually wielded a broad palette of prototypes for her literary enterprise, in which the key words ‘favour’ (jonste) and ‘art’ (conste) were repeated ad infinitum. The title page of the collection from 1528 brought attention to the work’s professionalism by advertising it as “very well made”, in a “subtle” and “rhetorical” manner. In that case this œuvre could only be produced by a very “ingenious” maiden, a qualification she herself also preferred to use in addressing her colleagues as “ingenious minds”. She and other rhetoricians kept repeating such words, as the incantations of a close band of poets who emphatically desired to be distinguished from peddling poetasters and other bunglers in the art of poetry. At the same time there was something defensive in such words. Amongst the rhetoricians this kind of an attitude is encountered continually. Anna repeatedly defends their art against money-grubbing storytellers and street poets, who befouled literature and threw its good name to the winds. On the other hand, she continued to heighten regard for the genuine rhetoricians. She called them “creators with a sense for art, noble followers of Mercury, rhétoriciens, subtle artists”, all being variations on what true poets were supposed to be, repeated time and again. She addressed her colleagues that way in a refrain with the stock line: “It is senseless to cast pearls before swine”. They were compelled to give their literary treasures up to a public as uncivilised as it was indifferent: “bone-headed beasts”, “venomous spiders”, peasants as well, and “uncivilised boors”. And elsewhere she spoke again of the scum that dared to make the true artist out to be a poseur and a prattler. Discouraged, she concluded, “The artist must always give way to the proletarian”.10 During the first half of the sixteenth century literary life in Antwerp was dominated by making the rhetorical arts in a Renaissance sense elite. Attacks on the despisers of rhetoric also appeared in other texts and presentations in that milieu, together with pleas for the true rhetorical arts which could only be nourished by the ingenium of the poet. Rhetoric could not be learned; talent lent itself only for further practice and some refinement here and there. As a result that Mary in Mary of Nimmegen (Mariken van Nieumeghen) dared to stand up to the diabolical Moenen, who thought to have her entirely in his power. This dramatised book for reading aloud, printed around 1515 in Antwerp, places an innocent girl in the heart of the city. There, in exchange for her soul, the devil is to school her in evil. At his insistence she declaims an ardent refrain of praise to rhetoric in the Antwerp tavern The Golden Tree. In doing so Moenen wants to have her demonstrate how well, thanks to him, she has learned in the wink

9 Moser, De strijd voor rhetorica; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 310–20 and 743–50. 10 Bijns, Meer zuurs dan zoets, pp. 191–3; Pleij, Anna Bijns, van Antwerpen, pp. 146–9.

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of an eye to master the seven artes liberales – diabolical learning, that is, which since the fall of man deserved the greatest distrust. Yet he miscalculates the divine inspiration to which Mary has kept her right in spite of her contract with the devil. Despite this being the worst of all sins, she remains in a state of grace by knowing how to maintain the M in her name – the devil cannot bear the Maria in Mary but gives in to her offer in that case to be subsequently called Emily – ‘Emmy’, that is, still with a reference to the ‘M’ of Maria. She continues, therefore, to be endowed with divine ingenium, which makes her capable of declaiming a perfect refrain. In it she moreover makes known exactly how things stack up. Of the seven artes liberales only rhetoric could not be learned, for that concerns a gift from the Holy Ghost. And that is why she could never have the innate facility for these rhetorical arts from Moenen.11 8.3. Antwerp Rhetoricians Above all, the art of the rhetoricians was a movement for innovation, however much it tied into all manner of traditions. Even in that case, though, this art knew how to adapt and elevate these traditions in an innovative sense. That applied not only to the artistic (re)arrangement of the vernacular, the introduction of literature as commitment to competition, and the organisation of literary life as such; rather, that also went for the motivation behind it and the topics it chose. All that innovation made more of an impression in the fifteenth century than any that can be imagined in literature now. Even into the late Middle Ages any trace of innovation, no matter the territory, was seen at once in a bad light. In point of fact, nothing new could exist within Christendom’s completed picture. Everything was planned and endowed by the Creator. And humankind could know and further come to know this down to the last detail from the Bible and the Book of Nature. Unfortunately because of the Fall, humanity had become deficient, was crippled in spirit and body, and needed the help of the priest even to be able to fathom the plan of creation in some way. Consequently, humankind continually risked experiencing as astonishment what in fact normally made up part of the divine plan. As a result of this fervent attitude towards innovation it becomes clear that here and there in the rhetoricians’ work ‘new’ still continued to play a role for typifying what was no good and indeed must have been induced by the devil. In a drama like Of Novelty, Deceitfulness, and Tricks of the Trade (Van Nyeuvont, Loosheit ende Practike), printed around 1500 in Antwerp as a book to read (aloud), the exposed tricks of reliquary dealers were called ‘new finds’. The heavy burden that every innovation had to bear in ideological respects makes it much more remarkable, though, how much the rhetoricians stood for and put through innovations in the rhetorical arts from the outset. They wanted pure, 11 Moser, De strijd voor rhetorica, pp. 71–3; Herman Pleij, “The Despisers of Rhetoric”, in eds. Jelle Koopmans et al., Rhetoric – Rhétoriqueurs – Rederijkers, Amsterdam, 1995, pp. 157–74.

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well-composed, and also new poetical works. In this desire there could be no talk of ‘new’ in the sense of restoring something old. The rhetoricians exploited this trend further into a compulsion for innovation, which came to belong to the set of requirements for what the essential work of the rhetorician ought to be. The Antwerp chamber The Gillyflowers set the tone at the 1496 landjuweel mentioned previously. It was emphatically stipulated that the work to be provided and produced had to be a new poetic composition, was expected to convey a new meaning, and was not allowed to have ever been played before. By around 1500 these kinds of requirements seemed to speak for themselves in such a way that they no longer appeared in the invitation cards. By this time the desire for something new had become a widely accepted starting point for the acquisition of knowledge, for science, and for voyages of discovery. With that curiosity, the literary enterprise was able to be liberated from weighty, theologically inspired limitation in order to experiment freely with new forms and topics to its heart’s content. That happened in morality plays, satirical esbattement plays, refrains, and ballads in exuberant ways then. For in addition to the innovative development of a literary use of language and the original organisation of literary enterprise as a craft, the rhetoricians drafted new text genres, too, for literature in the mother tongue. And for the first time as well.12 This fixation on the word in the mother tongue and the experiments with its infinite possibilities were induced above all by the humanists. They brought Latin to life again, liberated it from medieval contagions, and demonstrated its unique flexibility. The rhetoricians believed that that renewal could apply to the mother tongue as well. In Erasmus, above all, they thought they had found an infectious exemplar. He sojourned many times in Antwerp, enjoying contact with his friend Pieter Gillis, the municipal secretary. They imitated him not only in his capacity as philologist but also as ethicist. That happened even to the extent that already then there was talk of a kind of ‘Erasmianism’, which would be characteristic of many Antwerp rhetoricians in particular. In this case, that included an orientation towards classical culture as the ideal of civilisation, moderation, tolerance, openness to other opinions, and a strong suspicion of any form of vain show and absolutism. They interacted directly with Erasmus’ debating technique, reforging it into a true art of rational argument that could be put over most strongly on the stage. Yet even on a smaller scale Erasmus was imitated as, for example, in the Court Collection of the Guilds (Leenhof der ghilden) from around 1530, written by the Antwerp rhetorician Jan van den Berghe. In its tone the text very much bore relation to Erasmus, just as the printer himself stated in 1564. Its concept and form were inspired, moreover, by the Utopia (1516) of Erasmus’ great friend Thomas More, to whom Erasmus’ In Praise of Folly (Stultitiae Laus, printed 12 Van Nyeuvont, Lossheit ende Practike, ed. Elisabeth Neurdenburg, Utrecht, 1910; Herman Pleij, “Novel Knowledge: Innovation in Dutch Literature and Society of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries”, in Making Knowledge in Early Modern Europe, eds. Pamela Smith et al., Chicago, 2007, pp. 109–26; cf. Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 329–32.

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1511) was dedicated. Van den Berghe’s long rhyming text in the form of a ballad used the concept of the dream state as well. With the help of the requisite irony Van den Berghe’s versification offered the possibility of varied critique on each type of human who, in his view, populated the society of the Low Countries. Erasmus’ greatest admirer and imitator was the Antwerp rhetorician Cornelis Crul, whose varied work, in the spirit of the great humanist, betrayed a certain reformist interest in general. In the second quarter of the sixteenth century Crul set four of the Rotterdam humanist’s dialogues (Colloquia) in rhyming verse, aspiring to make these lively discussions ready for production as plays now, too. With that purpose in mind he also produced a dramatic monologue of his own invention, the Farce of a Drunkard (Cluchte van een dronckaert). Yet in this effort, too, the inspiration was entirely Erasmian, induced by the motif of humankind crawling about as observed from an Olympian perspective, which had also appeared in the Praise of Folly. The gods on their mountain, befogged by ambrosia an accompanied by Stultitia, look upon the jumbled mess of humans on earth and, in the process, the most divergent wrongdoings come up for discussion. This relativising dissociation had already been a beloved topic in classical satire. Crul sets his drunkard on the way to heaven, because they supposedly serve the best beer there. Stumbling and falling all the while, he continually collides with illustrative antagonists, thereby creating situations for delightful stage-playing, as he scolds them for their uncontrolled behaviour. Along the way he rests on a cloud to give a report of all the wrongdoings he observes on earth. In the process he shows a preference for clerics who deal in ecclesiastical instruments of grace, in addition to other beloved targets of Erasmus. In particular he attacks violent acts and war by calling out soldiers who plunder, rape, and murder. Yet it is still a laughable drunkard doing the talking, at least as clueless as the fool and other country bumpkins who, by virtue of their complete detachedness, dare to put forward every truth. Humanists also introduced a sort of neo-Stoicism, which was supposed to offer a weapon based on reason against the vicissitudes in the day-to-day life of a city dweller. Certainly in Antwerp that daily existence was dominated by commerce. Sudden changes in fortune occurred continuously in the life of a merchant. Not for nothing he claimed to be an adventurer, full of daring, imagination, and entrepreneurial passion. In the process he needed to have a high dose of cold-bloodedness, because Fortuna (fate) could always strike at the most unexpected moments. He therefore had to learn by means of his reason to suppress emotions that churned up so quickly. In addition to that, he desired to read narratives of the exemplary adventures of solo individuals who went out into the wide, wide world and did not allow anything or anyone to take them out of the game. The merchant found such narratives in the medieval knightly epic, which was now transposed into prose texts for reading (aloud), larded throughout with rhetoricians’ verses attached so as to add more power to the emotional moments in those narratives. With that same weapon of reason he had to learn to heed the dangers of love turning you into a fool. The Fight of Love (Tghevecht van minnen), printed in 1516 in Antwerp, was one long

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complaint against the ‘Venus weepers’ who were wasting away as a result of such madness. At the same time remedies are provided to youths to avoid these kinds of foolish infatuations. Such texts, too, had a very pragmatic intent. The capital amassed from modern commerce risked taking flight if heirs lost their heads to ill-considered love.13 8.4. The Contemporary Urban Reality The recognition of the mother tongue’s full potential also promoted the appreciation of prose, in particular when it concerned worldly matters. Market-conscious printers sought new text genres with which they could tap into broad swaths of the public. They created these by transposing sometimes centuries-old texts into more accessible prose and by tailoring the content to the aspirations and fantasies of a new audience, namely, city dwellers and their children. Antwerp had an international patent, so to speak, on launching these prose romances, even to the extent that a few of the local printers also brought out translations for the English and French market. A commercial trendsetter for the new prose version of old tales of chivalry was Paris and Vienna (Parijs ende Vienna), produced in Antwerp in 1487. With its origins in southern France, the material made the printing presses in all of Europe, and in its prose adaptation it became a success everywhere. With much ingenuity, the printer Gerard Leeu played on this interest and launched four parallel editions from Antwerp in different languages – in addition to Dutch also Low German, French, and English. What mattered was whether sufficient points of departure could always be found in this aristocratic glamour so as to find or even to create an audience locally. Already since the twelfth century, burghers in the cities of the Low Countries had constructed an identity by means of an idealised chivalric world, which as such inspired the leading of an appropriate lifestyle and the undertaking of risky ventures. In that way a direct connection was made with the merchant who was glad to be typified as an ‘adventurer’, that is, a bold entrepreneur who dared to challenge the world. Furthermore, rich merchant families regularly mingled with traditional nobility and also local aristocrats. Their new wealth demanded to be made decorous and otherwise distinct, and certainly also required a dynastic consciousness in their descendants. All that could be most efficiently achieved through advantageous marriages, with prose romances giving examples that inspired them. These treated love, marriage, and family in line with new ways of living and more of the burgher’s concerns in urban society. Pretty much all of the amorous relationships in the prose romances resulted in a marriage, with which love and its administrative authorisation were emphatically connected. There was no talk 13 Jan van den Berghe, Dichten en Spelen, ed. Cornelis Kruyskamp, The Hague, 1950; Cornelis Crul, Heynken de Luyere en andere gedichten, ed. Cornelis Kruyskamp, Antwerp, 1950; Tghevecht van minnen, ed. Robrecht Lievens, Leuven, 1964.

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any longer of idealising courtly love in the sense of glorified adultery alongside a marriage concluded for business considerations. Inasmuch as adultery was on the agenda, it invariably occurred as a negative example. Paris and Vienna was attractive to ambitious burghers, moreover, because the protagonist ended up a prince despite his humble origins. What was innovative in this came in its latching onto the contemporary conditions of the burgher’s existence. The desire for something new about what had happened in the past or somewhere else as well as the necessity of that knowledge for personal development became points of reference for organising daily life. In doing so, everything had to be above all exciting, provocative, and spectacular, even more than instructive, virtuous, and informative, no matter how these last labels were still being worn like a fig leaf, so to speak. Printers like Gerard Leeu had an eye for that new market and dared to use that insight to start experimenting. To be sure, production in Latin, still strongly prevalent at the time, did offer welcome entrepreneurial safeguards, but at the same time that closed off the path to rapid and astonishing profits. Thus, with his Reynard the Fox (Reynaert) from 1479, for example, Leeu amply paved the way for one text genre that was able to captivate an urban audience until well into the sixteenth century and sometimes led to successful offshoots as well, namely, the picaresque. The city dweller was glad to identify with such an apparently fragile solo individual who still knew how to play the entire world to his hand. Had he himself not personally been able to break free from the stranglehold of the nobility and clergy? The burgher was no longer dependent on these higher powers and took care of himself. If he needed help and protection, then he hired it for as long as the necessity lasted. That this situation applied only to a privileged few and that there was in fact a vast proletariat of day labourers and vagabonds vegetating inside the city walls could not take anything away from that ideal. That was the way it was intended, and that was the way it would ultimately become reality, too. In that milieu, which set the tone around 1500 in the Low Countries with their dominant urban culture, narratives about clever and cunning individuals of obscure birth proved to be irresistible. In that regard, the bounds between being an adept or even a crafty merchant and being an outright swindler were transgressed both easily and inconspicuously. As long as one showed oneself to be adept and knew how to lard one’s own cashbox by means of crafty brainwork, then everything was allowed on the printed page. Moreover, the tension and humour in the narrated pranks had such a purgative effect on the spirit that the spectre of melancholy took flight of its own volition. Just to be safe, the printers still made it known in a foreword that, first of all, the swindler’s tricks presented could teach one how to protect oneself against them. That was such a transparent safety net for readers and listeners possibly feeling caught in the act, though, that this slick warning degenerated very soon into a formula. It came instead to signal that they could get what they needed in the book in question – though that was probably the intention from the very start. Scoundrels like Reynard and his offspring embodied a delightful as well as pragmatic application of wisdom detached from the world in the sense of

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everyday cleverness. The burgher had to break free from traditional dependencies, become autonomous, and learn to take care of himself. To heighten the effect, the scoundrel was presented as being as simple as possible in terms of appearance and behaviour. That acted as a stimulus, because every reader or listener could easily feel superior and, therefore, certainly also capable of carrying out the narrated pranks and strategies himself. Many a scoundrel recalled an oafish peasant, not only on account of his inelegance, but also as a result of a misshapen appearance and the burden of too lowly an origin. In spite of all that he still proved to be capable of conquering the world and of commanding awe and respect everywhere. Besides Reynard, that formula for a scallywag, operating as an individual with an ingenuity sharpened by hunger, corresponded as well to Aesop, Marcolph, Jan Splinter, Heynken de Luyere, Jacke, Aernout, Everaert, François Villon, Till Eulenspiegel, the Pastor of Kalenberg, Friar Rusch, Virgil, and many more – all of them launched by Antwerp printers.14 That concern for contemporaneity, certainly where being a merchant was concerned, was just as characteristic of the enterprise of Antwerp’s rhetoricians. In point of fact, it made itself manifest already in one of the earliest and at the same time most famous morality plays, the Dutch Everyman (Elckerlijc). That this concerns an Antwerp production has now been determined. The author was most likely a certain Jan Casus, at that time the most celebrated rhetorician in the city, by whom no other work is known, however. The text really caught on around 1500 and was reprinted a few times as well. A production of this piece – which can no longer be tracked down – won the first prize at a drama festival in Antwerp. The protagonist was everyone, as it were, yet referred above all to merchants, however, who had become rich in the prime of their lives. This Everyman had neglected to set part of his amassed treasure aside for carrying out good works as behoved every Christian. God decided to punish him by means of an unexpected death and gave Death the commission to fetch him. As the avenging hand of God, Death discharges this task all too gladly. Like a wild animal, Everyman was living with abandon, after all, feared neither God nor His commandments and had elevated earthly possessions as his lord and master. Death now comes to confront him with all that. Everyman is told that he has to give up all his wealth now that he has been called to appear before God. And he has completely not prepared himself for that. At his wits’ end he seeks help from his family members, possessions, and senses – all personified as dramatic characters – and they are not able to help him. Even Virtue is too weak to assist him. Finally, Knowledge (conceived of as rueful insight) points him to 14 Gerard van Thienen et al., Incunabula printed in the Low Countries, Nieuwkoop, 1999, nos 1691–96; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 505–11 and 538–40; Herman Pleij, “Reynard the Fox. The Triumph of the Individual in a Beast Epic”, in The Low Countries, 1995/1996, pp. 233–40; Herman Pleij, “What and how did lay persons read, or: did the laity actually read? Literature, printing and public in the Low Countries between the Middle Ages and Modern Times”, in eds. Thomas Cock et al., Laienlektüre und Buchmarkt im späten Mittelalter, Frankfurt, 1997, pp. 3–32; Herman Pleij, Komt een vrouwtje bij de drukker…Over gezichtsveranderingen van de literatuur uit de late Middeleeuwen, Amsterdam, 2008, pp. 213–77.

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Confession, and he follows up on her counsel, as a matter of fact, to castigate himself with a switch. As a result, weakened Virtue recovers such that she can yet accompany him on his pilgrimage towards death. Such plays – there are more that come later in this vein – were supposed to legitimate being merchants and even to raise regard for them by anchoring their mores. For that reason such pieces were also designated as morality plays.15 8.5. Life Lessons This involvement in the world and human enterprise also included a shift away from the perspective of eternity towards the ins and outs of the everyday. In the process daily life was no longer approached negatively per se as the playground of the devil, exponent of ephemerality, or pool of sins. Life on earth represented a value in and of itself and was not just a way station or a seductive rest stop. For that reason it also deserved improving, based on instructions to enjoy more what in the end still was also God’s creation. Signposted wrongdoings were not merely marked as risk factors in reaching a blissful eternity, but also as hindrances to organising a better life on earth, here and now.16 Mingling old and new in 1544, the Antwerp printer Jan Roelants printed a collection of songs under the title A Book of Pretty Little Songs (Een schoon liedekens bouck), better known as the Antwerp Songbook (Antwerps liedboek). This collection with a total of 221 pieces caught on enormously, which presumably contributed to its being quickly placed on the index of prohibited books from 1546 onwards. Before 1550 there must already have been at least four reprints. All topics and motifs in sixteenth-century literature, painting, and printmaking came up, time and again with revealing and astonishing visions of daily life in the city and the surrounding countryside. There were encounters in this songbook with everyone trafficking on the street in Antwerp – knights, foot soldiers, doctors, monks, beguines, craftsmen, merchants, millers, dirty old men, hen-pecked husbands, whores, and boozers. In that regard love played an absolute leading role in all its capacities. Inlaid in this way, there was complaining, yearning, and love-making, and betrayal and money-making, too. The songs caricaturing the hen-pecked husband are hilarious. The effect is heightened even more when his domineering wife or the victim himself performs such a song. Many a song invites further role-playing, and in that way comes close to the mood of a farce in song. On his knees, a lamenting John Hen begs his wife for a few hours off. To argue for his right to free time her hen-pecked husband sums up all his household chores, a stereotypical scene in all the texts about hen-pecked husbands. In the light of the impregnable distribution of roles within

15 Herman Brinkman, “De const ter perse. Publiceren bij de rederijkers voor de Reformatie”, in, eds. Herman Pleij et al., Geschreven en gedrukt, Ghent, 2004, pp. 157–75; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 401–4. 16 Pleij, Nederlandse literatuur van de late Middeleeuwen, pp. 17–78.

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the nuclear family, such a summary was evidently seen as extremely laughable and very suited for expanding upon time and again with new, ridiculous details. In this song his permanent chores included accompanying his wife during her bowel movements, for he had to put her on the pot, literally making himself a fool. Furthermore he assisted her as she made and dolled herself up. And of course he washed the dishes, laundered the clothes, swept the house, baked the bread, and cooked the porridge. In this way all those songs from the Antwerp Songbook reflected not only the most divergent forms of everyday life and contemporary politics; they also commented upon them in a ridiculing or motivating sense. In so doing they also set the public tone. They supported new marital and familial relationships within the nuclear family, offered an outlet for social tensions, provided weapons for attacking opponents and trouble, and strengthened the regime of Emperor Charles V by extolling his deeds. And it was that very harmony, sometimes with the option for distributing the parts, that advanced those effects even more.17 What was also innovating in that tailoring to everyday life and contemporaneity was increasing attention to the treatment of the word and the presentation of the text. Language was not just something trivial. And even the mother tongue demanded the utmost careness, for life went off track otherwise. The Antwerp printer Michiel Hillen van Hoochstraten had given spectacular examples of that in his Dutch Eulenspiegel (Ulenspieghel), published around 1519. His scoundrel of a protagonist constantly misuses this elemental tool for communication by taking literally what was intended figuratively and vice versa. As a result everything goes wrong and he threatens to reduce the world to an anarchic mess. What the humanists were doing with Latin deserved imitation where it concerned the mother tongue – that needed to be wielded at least as carefully. Just like his colleague Van Hoochstraten, as a producer of many a humanist text in Latin fellow Antwerp resident Eckert van Homberch showed that with the right texts he knew how to play on the desires of an urban audience. And, conversely, how he also was able to arouse the demand for those desires. Around 1510 he brought out Oliver of Castile (Olyvier van Castillen), a prose romance that he himself had probably adapted from the Spanish. In an elaborate foreword and afterword he explicated his intentions and modus operandi. In them he devoted substantial attention to treatment of the text – a first in the printed presentation of an adventurous knightly romance in prose. He also did not neglect in this context to praise the advantages of distributing the text by means of the printing press. A printed text was more easily legible than a handwritten one. Yet, in the process, on account of its multiplication into hundreds of identical copies it was that much more important to take care that the text was reliable. Many a humanist had made precisely this point by furiously raging against money-grubbing printers, who over-hastily slapped something together in order to become rich as rapidly as possible – even when it concerned the publication of the work of classical authors.

17 Het Antwerps Liedboek, ed. Dieuwke van der Poel et al., 2 vols, Tielt, 2004.

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In order to demonstrate his dedication Eckert referred to an earlier, no longer extant edition abounding in errors. Moreover, the chapter headings in that erroneous edition fell short, seeing as they covered the defined text fragments least of all. These shortcomings were now all eliminated by Eckert, while the narrative was made more logical. The added table of contents offered, furthermore, a hold on the story line, which could also be more easily grasped as a result of the chapter headings. Another summary of the entire narrative could be found in the epilogue. All these instructions had an audience in mind who, in the first place, were unaccustomed to reading for themselves and who, above all else, now had the opportunity to look over the entire text and to familiarise themselves with it. Well into the epilogue the printer showed himself to be aware of the possible problems such a solitary reader could experience. Apart from a lack of training, he was also presented on top of that with an extensive account of adventures with numerous characters, complications that tumbled over one another, a narrative structure that was incomprehensible, and a plot that could not be repeated. A reader who could persevere on his own only managed to do so by constantly consulting the table of contents as well as the synopsis at the end. Even in the epilogue he encountered the printer again. It could be, the printer said, that while reading one experienced a certain over-abundance of wonders that did not seem equally believable. One could be assured, however, that everything was fully in agreement with ecclesiastical doctrine. Texts in the vernacular were listened to, certainly where it concerned fiction. Reading for oneself in the mother tongue became modestly distributed amongst laymen in the case of material for meditation, entirely in the spirit of the Devotio Moderna, which insisted upon a personal relationship of the individual with God. Yet fiction was experienced in the company of others and as such by means of a reciter or a reader. Antwerp printers tried to meddle with that medium out of clearly understood self-interest. Fiction, too, needed to be personally experienced and learned to be read in the same way humanists overpowered a Latin text: only with the support of a carefully organised text.18 8.6. The Classics as a Guideline Above all else, the new ideals in literature were characterised by an orientation towards classical Antiquity. That was where the examples of the ideals of modern civilisation were to be found, in the works of classical writers, mythology, and ancient history in general. Via rhetoricians, humanists who (also) made use of the mother tongue, not to mention visual artists, the classical world permeated literature with all its tangible reality and original fantasies. Now, of course, with 18 Het volksboek van Ulenspieghel, ed. Loek Geeraedts, Kapellen, 1986; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 510–1 and 546–50; Wouter Nijhoff et al., Nederlandsche bibliografie van 1500 tot 1540, 3 vols, The Hague, 1923–1971, no. 3170.

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its renowned philosophers, authors, and array of gods, classical Antiquity never disappeared from the stage during the Middle Ages. Yet there was scarcely any talk of respect for its authenticity. As opposed to worldly anxieties, Antiquity’s stoical pragmatism proved to be an attractive model for the development of urban commercial activities and lifestyles. The morality of the late medieval burgher was, as a result, more classically tinted than the Christian, and sometimes even conflicted with the traditional set of virtues from the mother church. This central position occupied by Antiquity’s legacy was also amplified by declaring rhetoric as mediated by the French to be the cradle of literary communication, directly conveyed by urban authors even in the name they gave themselves: rhétoriciens (‘rhetoricienen’). The appeal of the ‘heathen’ body of thought was also precisely in its un-Christian nature. It could be played with and referenced to the heart’s content, only to have the entire legacy rejected as idolatry, if the worst came to the worst. With his work in translation, the Antwerp rhetorician Cornelis van Ghistele placed a crown upon the emancipation of the mother tongue. Thanks to him, Ovid, Terence, Virgil, Horace, and Sophocles were available in translation from the middle of the sixteenth century onwards, “rhetorically rendered”, as the title and the foreword always take notice of. And that meant: applying the achievements of the art of rhetoric and, consequently, on a level equivalent to the classics. The translations caught on in the modern milieu of scholars and trendy merchants, for most of the texts were reprinted repeatedly. In addition to his promise of perfect language usage, just to be safe Van Ghistele also announced that the texts were of course full of “good lessons”, though nevertheless “pleasing to read”. One ought not to think, that is, that elevated language use would stand in the way of the familiar attractions of texts in the vernacular – on the contrary. The earliest known example in Antwerp of a stage play with classical characters was the 1491 production of Venus, Pallas and Juno (Venus, Pallas ende Juno) in the framework of a rhetoricians’ festival. Quite obviously it concerned the judgment of Paris – the text has been lost – a familiar tableau as well from the spectacles during the joyous entries of sovereigns into the city, and also beloved among painters on account of the possibilities for civilised nudity – after all, Paris did have to indicate whom he found to be the most beautiful. Shortly after this production, another struck home again at the entry of Maximilian of Austria and his son Phillip the Fair, in 1494. At the marketplace a silent show with Venus, Juno, and Pallas figured prominently, played by real women without any clothes, according to a chronicler. In so doing, the production of classical tableaux acquired a permanent place for itself in Antwerp street spectacles. Already in 1495, and again in 1529 as well, the rhetoricians from the Gillyflowers chamber gave a large-scale show of a play about the Argonauts, entitled Of the King of Argon (Van den koning van Argon), also lost. And in 1519 associates from that same chamber played the now unknown Amyca’s Play, or the Flowermaker ([S]pel van Amyca, oft de Makere der bloemen), undoubtedly with classicising content. The production was assessed as being “very well played” and “gratifying to hear”, and lasted at least two days. There was a practice of making serial

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presentations centred around one topic by means of which an audience could be made to commit for days. That happened with Aeneas and Dido (Aeneas en Dido) around the middle of the sixteenth century, again material from Antiquity. In this well-preserved piece the first play concluded with a rondeau, which announced that the first part of the production was now at the end, in the hope of being able to see the spectators again the day after next – assuming that the weather cooperated. These classical presentations also offered attractive excuses for displays of purposeful nudity. Interest in that had increased in the framework of the burgeoning campaign for manners among the urban elite – public nudity came increasingly under pressure, and that demanded restitution. Nudity began to dominate the visual arts and the stage, and opting for classical and biblical scenes made the depiction or interpretation of nudity unavoidable. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, the painter Jan Gossaert elevated this choice to the hallmark of his œuvre. According to Guicciardini, Gossaert was the first who “brought to these lands the art of painting historical and mythological canvasses with nude figures”. Anna Bijns’ disgust with this tendency for nudity could be called quite telling. According to her, Antiquity stood for heathendom and uncontrollable gratification of lust. She also repeatedly indicated how much painters, printers, and printmakers profited from this despicable fad and how that resulted in losing sight of everything virtuous. The way she felt, such lascivious paganism dominated everyday life in the city. As a result, in part, she harboured the deepest suspicion towards the hedonism of classical civilisation and, above all, towards the humanists of her time. After all, they wanted to revive this scandalous period in its full glory. They even dared to contend that the Bible could only be understood properly with the help of classical Latin in its original form. Were the humanists not continually preaching novelties and innovation, so as to distance themselves from the socalled barbaric Middle Ages? And instead they then started motivating all that nudity. Yet innovation could not be stopped, and painters as well as rhetoricians enthusiastically dived in. Eroticising nudes were produced not only by Jan Gossaert but also by leading painters such as Lucas van Leyden, Maarten van Heemskerck, and Jan Massys. Their work was well known in Antwerp and was heavily traded on the local art market, renowned far and wide. It was precisely in Antwerp as well as inside the Marigold rhetoricians’ chamber (‘De Goudbloem’), with which Anna appeared to have connections, where interest in that worldly legacy from classical Antiquity flourished like nowhere else. In 1555 Van Ghistele dedicated his translation of Terence to The Marigold’s ‘Prince’, its patron Gabriel Studelin. Van Ghistele himself was the chamber’s ‘Factor’ from 1550 until around 1570. In the epilogue of his Aeneas and Dido (Aeneas en Dido) he produced a little play, intended to build a bridge to the audience and move them at the last minute to a positive evaluation of what evidently still ran into much resistance. In the piece, the characters “Uneducated Understanding” and “Unwitting Mocking” raged against the “Little Marigolds” who had brought useless and incomprehensible gibberish onto the stage – in

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short, ‘vain poesy’ (ijdel poeterije). It goes without saying that this clueless judgment was convincingly refuted. It was also evident from their entrance during the renowned Antwerp landjuweel contest of 1561 that fanciful ‘poesy’ was in its heyday, especially within this chamber’s circles. “A pageant wagon decorated in classical style, including eight characters” drew most attention. Even the morality play with which they took part in the competition was similarly inspired. It argued for the modern stoicism so in vogue with rhetoricians, in which humanity was supposed to arm itself with reason in order to withstand the whims of fate. That was again demonstrated by means of fanciful ‘poesy’ – classical fantasy. The leading roles were played by “Humanity, dressed in classical style” as well as “Reason”, which among other things referred to the history of the Greek race, and in a positive sense. These humanists who made use of the mother tongue in their work were, in essence, of the opinion that the literature of the rhetoricians was the natural continuation of classical literary works. Van Ghistele said as much in so many words in his introduction to the reader in the case of his translation of Terence from 1555. The plays of the rhetoricians, shown for the masses, were in his view not the result of “new invention or art”. As far as he was concerned, what was new was in the creative restoration and continuation of classical drama that had been lost. That is, these theatrical arts had already been practised centuries ago by the Romans, who in their turn had copied these shows from the Greeks as “the first inventors”. This uninterrupted tradition since the Greek tragedians was also put forward by Willem van Haecht. As Factor for The Gillyflowers, Van Haecht was responsible for the high-flown prologue that preceded the edition of the plays shown in 1562. The morality play and farcical esbattement offered the contemporary countenance of what was known at that time as tragedy and comedy. In addition, a woodcut of a classical theatre was printed, followed by the depiction of a modern “play-acting stage”. In passing Van Haecht mentions briefly Van Ghistele’s translation of Terence from 1555, as a result of which classical theatre was now also accessible at a reliable level for those who did not study Latin. This alignment found yet another justification in the conviction that Greek theatre in turn was supposedly a continuation of the literature from the Jews of the old law. In that tradition Judith embodied tragedy, much as Tobias had given reason for comedy. Establishing the proof for that also found support from Luther. In short, the contemporaneous theatre of the rhetoricians could be called a perfect equivalent.19

19 Mireille Vinck-Van Caekenberghe, Een onderzoek naar het leven, het werk en de literaire opvattingen van Cornelis van Ghistele (1510/11–1573), rederijker en humanist, Ghent, 1996; Anke van Herk, Fabels van liefde. Het mythologisch-amoureuze toneel van de rederijkers (1475–1621), Amsterdam, 2009, pp. 22–4 and 154–6; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 693–4 and 705–08; Pleij, Anna Bijns, van Antwerpen, p. 268 and pp. 311–21; Bijns, Meer zuurs dan zoets, nos 35 and 38; Lodovico Guicciardini, De idyllische Nederlanden. Antwerpen en de Nederlanden in de 16de eeuw, ed. Monique Jacqmain, Antwerp, 1987, p. 50; Neil de Marchi et al., Mapping Markets for Paintings in Europe, 1450–1750, Turnhout, 2006, pp. 35–53 and 188–208.

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8.7. Rhetorical Arts as Municipal Concern In that spirit, the largest landjuweel of 1561 was organised in Antwerp. The high point was the contest for the morality play, which was expected to be written “with demonstrable knowledge, through beautiful style and new invention”. Actually, everything that could be called new in the rhetorical arts was clustered together in the presentations and performances during this festival that lasted for several days. All the foremost chambers from the duchy of Brabant were present to go through the most extensive competition one could experience in these circles. The number of subdivisions in which they fought with one another was unprecedentedly high and ran the gamut from the most splendid entrance to the maddest fool to the most beautiful morality play. Yet they tried to outdo one another also with the best esbattement farce, the prettiest prologue play and the most appealing faction (a piece with music written by the chamber’s Factor), these all being slightly distinct theatrical forms whose foremost characteristic was that they were short. There was also emphatic attention paid to contemporaneous municipal concerns, despite the stringent limitations the regional authorities had placed on the rhetoricians’ enterprise. After all, stage plays from these circles repeatedly proved to be an appealing vehicle for spreading subversive and especially reformist-minded thought. That was the reason the authorities stipulated that the topics to be assigned for the competitions required approval from the authorities in advance. It was clear that only absolutely value-free subjects could be chosen, which would really not be able to give anyone any subversive ideas involving the state or the mother church. In the end and with much effort they succeeded at that in Antwerp. For the morality play the task consisted of dramatising an answer to the question what motivated humanity the most to practise the arts. For the subdivision on the prologue play they produced the fairly coy question on the concerns of the merchant. Antwerp’s good name in the world stood or fell with the commitment of its merchants – that was something everyone agreed on. That is why a lot of commotion arose when, around the middle of the sixteenth century, these merchants increasingly fell into disrepute on account of systematic cheating, as had been put forward in a series of pamphlets. Their reputation played a leading role, after all, when it came to regard for the city. It was clear that Melchior Schetz – a wealthy merchant and Prince of The Gillyflowers – and Anthonis van Stralen – a prosperous banker and leader inside the chamber – wanted to use the landjuweel to promote trade. The assignment for doing so was, in so many words, in the instructions for the prologue play. Writers were supposed to prove how useful bold merchants “who traded fairly” were to the community: they kept an even keel under all circumstances. A certain attempt at restoring honour was also hardly alien to this compelling commission, for it was a matter of going public with this message as emphatically as possible. Inside the chamber itself they certainly knew better, for one of the questions for the internal refrain contests on this occasion read: “how damaging is the unfair merchant to a city”. In answering this challenge, the members could have at one

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another frankly for they were still amongst themselves, much as these contest refrains were not further intended for print. In keeping with expectations, the rhetoricians’ chambers surpassed one another with praise for the merchant of Antwerp. They even dared put forward that Antwerp merchants had taken over the task of Columbus and Vespucci, with the result that all of Europe now shone with silver and gold. In general the wealth of the city had increased explosively, thanks to the inventiveness of the God-fearing merchants. Antwerp was so powerful now that the city dared every comparison with world cities like Cairo, Alexandria, Venice, Lyon, Paris or London. Negative reactions were not lacking, however. These resulted not only from the declining reputations of the merchants who were making themselves rich so rapidly, but also from a certain rivalry amongst the cities themselves. Antwerp had gone so high so fast that the rest of the trade centres in Brabant appeared to be falling down entirely. Would that explain the sneers from the rhetoricians of Den Bosch concerning this troubling Antwerp opulence? They gave, namely, a rather negative answer to the question in their prologue play. They contended fairly frugally, that is, that there were indeed also merchants who kept their word, demonstrated love for their neighbour, did not dispute debts, or play any crafty pranks. If only they also existed in abundance in Antwerp! The city could take that and put it in its pocket, the implication supposedly being at the very least that such exemplary merchants were not to be found in the Scheldt town.20 8.8. Conclusion With the rise of the rhetoricians’ enterprise over the course of the fifteenth century, a functionally aesthetic form-based art began to dominate both the appearance and the mechanics of literature. Around 1500 its focus became concentrated in Antwerp. It was there that the intimate entwining of rhetoricians, painters, and printers proved to be the appropriate seedbed for an array of new forms, subjects, and intentions. The author began to materialise as a true professional and wanted to be recognised that way as well. He reforged his mother tongue to its full potential as an instrument for attaining the most sublime effects. Antiquity and classical authors acted as the exemplars of civilised ideals for all of this. Above all, the humanists, with Erasmus in the van, built bridges towards practical ethics in the service of daily life. These ethics also directed answers to the vicissitudes of existence, certainly where that commerce so vital to Antwerp was involved in the proceedings. Spearheading this innovated literary communication were the morality play and the refrain, both of which were experienced in full public view but also used as material for debate in smaller circles. 20 Dirk Coigneau et al., Uyt Ionsten Versaemt. Het Landjuweel van 1561 te Antwerpen, Brussels, 1994; De Antwerpse Spelen van 1561, ed. Ruud Ryckaert, 2 vols, Ghent, 2011; cf. Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 709–17.

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All that gives more than sufficient reason for having the Renaissance in Dutch literary works begin at the end of the Middle Ages, with Antwerp in the leading role. Around 1570 a second phase in this Renaissance appeared, which was limited, however, as innovation in form: the morality play and the satirical esbattement made room for classical tragedy and comedy; the refrain was replaced by the sonnet. At the same time this second movement marked the fading of Antwerp’s role on the literary stage. Though Jan van der Noot still wrote the first fully realised collection of sonnets in Dutch from the dimensions of Antwerp, it was quite telling that he did so in utter isolation, independent of the rhetoricians’ chamber or any other organisation whatsoever. The Renaissance continued in the northern provinces, with Amsterdam as its new centre. Yet Antwerp was where it had begun.21

21 Cf. Bart Ramakers, “De mythe van de grote vertraging”, in Queeste, 5, 1998, pp. 58–63; Pleij, Het gevleugelde woord, pp. 763–4.

Krista De Jonge, Piet Lombaerde, and Petra Maclot  

Building the Metropolis 9.1. Introduction How can one describe the spatial environment created in Antwerp during the Renaissance? Urban space in the metropolis underwent a thorough renovation in the course of the sixteenth century, expanding on a seldom seen scale which kept pace with the city’s newly acquired position as an economic and cultural hub in the North.1 No longer concentrated in the oldest cradle of the town, which extended from the fortified Burcht area near the Scheldt River to the main collegiate church (later cathedral) of Our Lady, the city took on a more dispersed structure, as the socio-economic activities spread across the entire area within its new, fortified enceinte. Extant and new extensions were indeed included within the newly erected, bastioned city walls, among the earliest and of the largest of their kind in Northern Europe. At the same time, Antwerp functioned as a hub for the development of Netherlandish architecture in the antique manner, as Renaissance architecture was consistently called in contemporary sources,2 and for its broad diffusion across Northern Europe. Antwerp’s urban expansion and renewal are reflected not only in contemporary cartography, but also in numerous descriptions produced by travellers and city dwellers.3 Even if discounting the literary topoi in contemporary laudes urbium, the data quoted in the texts are impressive. The image produced by one particular network of writers, cartographers, printers, and artists can be used as starting point for this essay.

1 Piet Lombaerde, “Antwerp in its Golden Age: ‘One of the Largest Cities in the Low Countries’ and ‘One of the Best Fortified in Europe’”, in Urban Achievement in Early Modern Europe. Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, ed. Patrick K. O’Brien, Cambridge, 2001, pp. 99–127. 2 Krista De Jonge, “Anticse wercken: Architecture in the Antique Manner 1500–1530”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym (Architectura Moderna, 5), Turnhout, 2007, pp. 21–40. 3 Anne-Marie Van Passen, “Antwerpen goed bekeken. Een bloemlezing”, in Antwerpen, Verhaal van een Metropool, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Ghent, 1993, pp. 59–67; C. Joachim Classen, “Lodovico Guicciardini’s ‘Descrittione’ and the Tradition of the Laudes and Descriptiones Urbium”, in Lodovico Guicciardini (1521–1589). Actes du colloque international des 28, 29 et 30 mars 1990, ed. Pierre Jodoigne, Louvain, 1991, pp. 99–118; Philippe Desan, “Lodovico Guicciardini et le Discours sur la Ville à la Renaissance”, in Lodovico Guicciardini (1521–1589), pp. 135–50; Fernand Hallyn, “Lodovico Guicciardini et la Topique de la Topographie”, in Lodovico Guicciardini (1521–1589), pp. 151–62. Krista De Jonge & Petra Maclot • KU Leuven Piet Lombaerde • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 195–236.

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9.2. The Fair Face of the City, or la Bellezza, Nobiltà, Grandezza, & Magnificenza Sua4 In his Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (Antwerp: Guilielmus Silvius, first edition 1567), the Florentine merchant Lodovico Guicciardini (1521 – † 1589) praised the canals (vlieten) with their stone-lined docks and their seventy-four large and small bridges, and the two hundred and twelve streets “most of which are large and straight, as they are almost everywhere in these Low Countries”.5 Guicciardini seems to adhere to the official imago urbis; after all, his Descrittione had started out as a text on Antwerp only, meant to be useful to the merchant immigrant. The chief notes he strikes, for instance, already appear in nucleo in the address to the viewer written by the town clerk Cornelius Scribonius Grapheus (alias De Schrijver) (1482 – † 1558) for the city map by Virgilius Bononiensis, printed by Gillis Coppens, alias Aegidius van Diest (c. 1496 – † 1572), in 1565 (Fig. 9.1).6 This enormous, coloured woodcut only survives in one copy in the Museum Plantin-Moretus, although possibly more were made,7 and there is every reason to assume that it resulted from a city-sponsored initiative. Even if not always accurate, it is certainly the most spectacular of the many perspectives of the city that were issued at that time.8 Grapheus’s classically brief description of the urban



4 “La mia prima intentione (chiarissimi signori) fu di far’ solamente una descrittione di questa vostra amplissima citta & patria, per far’ nota a voi la grande affettione ch’io ho verso di lei, & re(n)der testimonianza al mondo della bellezza, nobiltà, grandezza, & magnificenza sua: del governo, & reggimento, politia, & gran potenza de gli habitatori”. Address to the Antwerp Senate, Lodovico Guicciardini, Descrittione… di tutti i Paesi Bassi, altrimenti detti Germania inferiore, Antwerp, Christofano Plantino, 1581, p. 90. We used the revised Plantin editions of the Descrittione of 1581 (in Italian), 1582 (in French, translated by F. de Belleforest) and 1588 (also in Italian). These stand out because of their lavish in-folio format and double-page illustrations. Monique Jacqmain, “Les deux traductions françaises de la ‘Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi’”, in Lodovico Guicciardini (1521–1589). Actes du colloque international des 28, 29 et 30 mars 1990, dir. Pierre Jodoigne (Travaux de l’Institut Interuniversitaire pour l’étude de la Renaissance et de l’Humanisme, 10), Louvain, 1991, pp. 163–77. On Guicciardini and the imago urbis, Krista De Jonge, “A Tale of Two Cities: The Image of Brussels and of Antwerp in Lodovico Guicciardini’s Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi”, in Città e storia, 7, 2012, no. 1, Tales of the City: Outsiders’ Descriptons of Cities in the Early Modern Period, eds Flaminia Bardati, Fabrizio Nevola & Eva Renzulli, pp. 135–57. 5 Guicciardini, Descrittione, 1581, p. 98; Lodovico Guicciardini, Description de Touts les Pais-Bas, Autrement Appellés la Germanie Inférieure, ou Basse Allemagne, trans. François de Belleforest, Antwerp: Christophe Plantin, 1582, p. 107. 6 See also chapter 10 by Jelle de Rock in this volume. Woodcut composed of twenty sheets measuring together 1200 × 2650 mm, or 47 ¼ × 103 ⅓ inches approximately. Leon Voet et al., De Stad Antwerpen van de Romeinse Tijd tot de 17de eeuw. Topografische Studie rond het Plan van Virgilius Bononiensis 1565, Brussels, 1978, pp. 133–46. 7 Daniel Papebrochius, Annales Antwerpienses, eds Frans Hendrik Mertens & Ernest Buschmann, Antwerp, 1844, vol. 2, p. 266 mentions several exemplars which he has seen in different private collections, but lumps together “larger” and “smaller” versions (the latter being, in fact, another map). 8 Certain streets are not included, the facades of the houses are often imaginary and the fortifications are not rendered correctly. To be compared to the maps by Jerome Cock, Claudio Duchetti and Lodovico Guicciardini in the 1567 edition, which offer less vivid depictions.

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Figure 9.1. Virgilius Bononiensis. Bird’s eye view of Antwerp and its fortifications, woodcut, 1565, Antwerp, Museum Plantin-Moretus Antwerp.

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infrastructure must have resonated with the merchant-turned-author.9 There are two hundred residential blocks, sixty-two bridges within the city walls, twenty market squares, twelve districts, and thirty-six churches, chapels, monasteries, and guesthouses. Ships can access the inner city through eight water corridors (streams, canals, and sluices). There are five gates in the bastioned city walls, which have ten bastions, thus Grapheus.10 He offers particular praise for the city’s favourable position on the Scheldt. The image presented here must have been generally accepted by the urban élite, which Grapheus belonged to. He was also the author of the well-known report on Charles V’s and Philip of Spain’s Joyous Entry into Antwerp in 1549, which was published a year later by the same Gillis Coppens in three languages: Dutch, French, and Latin, and illustrated with images of the lavish decorations by the painter Pieter Coecke van Aelst, who had been master of St Luke’s guild since 1527 (1502 – † 1550).11 Guicciardini had indeed freely excerpted this report



9 “Habet medium viarumq[ue] insulas CC. Pontes vero intra moenia fossis et canalibus aquas fluminis in urbem ducentib[us] impositos LXII. Flora plus minus XX. Vicos, seu Regiones XII. Aedeis sacras, cum Monasteriis, Aediculis, et Xenodochiis plus minus XXXVI. Sinus quibus naves intra moenia recipiuntur VIII”. Quoted after Aloïs Gerlo’s reconstruction of the text, Aloïs Gerlo, “Toelichting bij de Kaart van Virgilius Bononiensis”, in Leon Voet et al., De Stad Antwerpen, pp. 145–46. 10 This does not correspond to the actual situation. There were in fact nine bastions with eight intermediate curtain walls. See Piet Lombaerde, “De vroege versterkingswerken van Antwerpen en de Spaanse omwalling: vanaf ca. 1507 tot het einde van de Spaanse Successieoorlog in 1713”, in Antwerpen Versterkt. De Spaanse omwalling vanaf haar bouw in 1542 tot haar afbraak in 1870, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Brussels, 2009, pp. 14–60, especially p. 28. 11 Cornelis Grapheus & Pieter Coecke van Aelst, De Seer Wonderlijcke/ Schoone/ Triumphelijcke Incompst, van den Hooghmogenden Prince Philips, Prince van Spaignien, Caroli de Vijfden, Keyserssone. In de Stadt van Antwerpen, Anno, M.LLLLL,XLJX, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1550; Cornelis Grapheus & Pieter Coecke van Aelst, La très admirable, tresmagnifique, & triumphante entrée, du treshault & trespuissant Prince Philipes, Prince d’Espaignes, filz de Lempereur Charles. Ve., ensemble la vraye description des Spectacles, theatres, archz triumphaulx. &c. les quelz ont este faictz & bastis a sa tres desiree reception en la tres renommee florissante ville d’Anvers. Anno 1549, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1550; Cornelis Scribonius [Grapheus] & Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Spectaculorum in susceptione Philippi, Hisp. Princ., divi Caroli V, Caes., f., an. 1549, Antverpiae, aditorum, mirificus apparatus…, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1550; Floris Prims, “Het Eigen Werk van Cornelis Grapheus (1482–1558), I. II.”, in Floris Prims, Antwerpiensia. Losse bijdragen tot de Antwerpsche geschiedenis, Antwerp, 193, pp. 172–90; Irmgard von Roeder-Baumbach, Versieringen bij Blijde Inkomsten gebruikt in de Zuidelijke Nederlanden gedurende de 16e en 17e eeuw, Antwerp, 1943, pp. 12–4; August Corbet, Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Antwerp and Utrecht, 1950, pp. 31–45; Edmond J. Roobaert, “De Seer Wonderlycke Schoone Triumphelycke Incompst van den Hooghmogenden Prince Philips… in de Stadt Antwerpen… Anno 1549”, in Bulletin van de Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van België, 9, 1960, pp. 37–74; Sune Schéle, Cornelis Bos. A Study of the Origins of the Netherland Grotesque, Stockholm, 1965; Georges Marlier, La Renaissance flamande. Pierre Coeck d’Alost, Brussels, 1966, pp. 386–90; John Landwehr, Splendid Ceremonies. State Entries and Royal Funerals in the Low Countries, 1515–1791. A Bibliography, Nieuwkoop – Leiden, 1971, pp. 67–68, 70, 73–5; Wouter Kuyper, The Triumphant Entry of Renaissance Architecture in The Netherlands. The Joyeuse Entrée of Philip of Spain into Antwerp in 1549, Renaissance and Mannerist Architecture in the Low Countries from 1530 to 1630, 2 vols, Alphen aan den Rijn, 1994, vol. 1, pp. 7–78; Mark A. Meadow, “Ritual and Civic Identity in Philip II’s 1549 Antwerp ‘Blijde Incompst’”, in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 49, 1998, pp. 37–67; Jochen Becker, “‘Greater than Zeuxis and Apelles’: Artists as Arguments in the Antwerp Entry of 1549”, in Court Festivals of the European Renaissance.

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to flesh out his description of the city.12 Grapheus, Coecke, and Coppens had started their joint ventures earlier, in the late 1530s and early 1540s, when Coecke undertook the translation and re-edition of Sebastiano Serlio’s architectural treatise, the most modern one to come out of Italy at the time.13 Coecke also contributed to the image of the city in a more oblique way. In his Introduction to the 1546 Flemish translation of Serlio’s Book III on Antiquity, the artist says he fears he will be unable to recover the costs he has incurred in producing the book, because the “lovers of antique architecture” are very limited in number. In spite of this difficulty, he has decided to publish this work that illustrates the monumental achievements of the Romans, so as to justify the enormous investment made in his time by the city of Antwerp in its new bastioned fortifications.14 Indeed, according to Coecke, the Romans had been obliged to protect their obelisks, pyramids, bath complexes, theatres, amphitheatres, triumphal arches, and other monuments erected to their glory with even greater bulwarks. This apology is also reflected in Grapheus’s and Guicciardini’s treatment of Antwerp’s fortifications. The enormous fortified enceinte, built from 1542 onwards by entrepreneur Gilbert van Schoonbeke and town master mason Peter Frans after the design made by the Italian engineer Donato de’ Boni Pellizuoli from Bergamo, ensured Antwerp’s fame throughout military circles in Europe.15 However, these bastions

Art, Politics and Performance, eds Ronnie Mulryne & Elizabeth Goldring, Aldershot – Burlington, 2002, pp. 171–95; Stijn P.M Bussels, Rhetoric, Performance and Power: The Antwerp Entry of Prince Philip in 1549, Amsterdam and New York, 2012. 12 Guicciardini, Descrittione, 1581, pp. 128–30; Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 132–5; Lodovico Guicciardini, De idyllische Nederlanden. Antwerpen en de Nederlanden in de 16de eeuw, trans. & ed. Monique Jacqmain, Antwerp and Amsterdam, 1987, pp. 36–8. 13 Krista De Jonge, “Vitruvius, Alberti and Serlio. Architectural Treatises in the Low Countries 1530–1620”, in Paper Palaces. The Rise of the Renaissance Architectural Treatise, eds Vaughan Hart & Peter Hicks, New Haven and London, 1998, pp. 281–96; Krista De Jonge, “Anvers: les premières traductions du traité d’architecture de Serlio”, in Sebastiano Serlio à Lyon. Architecture et imprimerie, vol. 1, Le traité d’architecture de Sebastiano Serlio. Une grande entreprise éditoriale au XVIe siècle, ed. Sylvie Deswarte, Lyon, 2004, pp. 262–83; Krista De Jonge, “Standardizing ‘Antique’ Architecture 1539–1543”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 41–53. On Coppens, see Paul Valkema Blouw, “Gillis Coppens van Diest als ondergronds drukker, 1566– 67”, in Het oude en het nieuwe boek. De oude en de nieuwe bibliotheek. Liber amicorum H.D.L. Vervliet, Kapellen, 1980, pp. 143–63. 14 Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Die aldervermaertste Antique edificien va[n] temple[n]/ theatre[n]/ amphiteatre[n]/ paleisen/ therme[n]/ obelisce[n]/ brugge[n]/ arche[n] triu[m]phal. etc. bescreve[n] en[de] gefigureert met haren gronde[n] en[de] mate[n] oock de plaetsen daerse staen en[de] wiese dede make[n], Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1546, Introduction. On Coppens, see Anne Rouzet, Dictionnaire des imprimeurs, libraires et éditeurs des XVe et XVIe siècles dans les limites géographiques de la Belgique actuelle, Nieuwkoop, 1975, pp. 45–46. 15 See in general Henri Emmanuel Wauwermans, “La fortification d’Anvers au XVIe siècle”, in Annales de l’Académie royale d’archéologie de Belgique, 4th ser., 8, 1896, pp. 1–195, especially p. 14 and following; Charles van den Heuvel, ‘Papiere Bolwercken’. De introductie van de Italiaanse stede- en vestingbouw in de Nederlanden (1540–1609) en het gebruik van tekeningen, Alphen aan den Rijn, 1991, pp. 26, 46–8, 150; Charles van den Heuvel & Bernhard Roosens, “Los Países Bajos. Las fortificaciones y la coronación de la defensa del imperio de Carlos V”, in Las fortificaciones de Carlos V, ed. Carlos J. Hernando Sánchez, Madrid, 2000, pp. 578–605, especially pp. 583–4; Lombaerde, “De vroege versterkingswerken van Antwerpen”. Parts of its foundations came to light from 2002 on until 2019.

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did not really belong to the civic domain: conceived as a response to the siege of the town by Gueldre’s general, Marten van Rossum, in 1542, their plan had been debated by generals of the highest nobility with Charles V himself. Not known as a great palace builder, the Emperor nevertheless took a strong interest in military architecture and in all sciences pertaining to it, such as applied geometry.16 Indeed, the only truly imperial architecture built during his reign is of a military nature, and the Antwerp fortifications represented one of the highest achievements in the field. The gates, the most important of which was the Imperial Gate or St George’s Gate (Keizerspoort or Sint-Jorispoort, 1545) through which the princely cortège entered the town on the occasion of the official Joyous Entry (amongst others in 1549), also constituted, speaking stylistically, the most modern architecture built in the urban context of the time. Guicciardini describes the successive enceintes, and especially the latest one, as an integral part of Antwerp’s civic history, but emphasises at the same time that their construction had been approved by Charles V.17 The 1542 enceinte constitutes an essential part of the city’s image in his view, and its great length – four Italian miles or 4812 passi – and enormous cost – more than half a million gold crowns at the date of writing – are matters of civic pride.18 Grapheus had previously sounded a similar note when emphasising the dimensions of this half-moon-shaped structure. He put its circumference at 5212 paces of five antique Roman feet each, a somewhat higher number than Guicciardini because he included the quays.19

16 17

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19

See Karen Minsaer et al., “De zestiende-eeuwse omwalling van Antwerpen… met dank aan Gilbert van Schoonbeke”, in Gilbert van Schoonbeke. Visionair ondernemer in Antwerpens Gouden Eeuw, ed. Hugo Soly, s.l., 2019, pp. 174–209; Piet Lombaerde, “Piramides aan de voet van de Spaanse omwalling van Antwerpen. Hoogstandjes van steensnede uit de 16de eeuw”, in M&L. Monumenten, Landschappen en Archeologie, 38, 2019, 3, pp. 6–23. See, for instance, William Eisler, “The ‘Wunderkammer’ of Charles V: The Emperor, Science, Technology and the Expanding World”, in Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento, 19, 1993, pp. 11–52, and Las fortificaciones de Carlos V, ed. Carlos J. Hernando Sánchez, Madrid, 2000. This criterion seems important to him. Guicciardini, Descrittione, 1581, p. 148: “Niente dimanco nelli affari di piu importanza, & di maggior’ momento, come di fortificatione & d’altre cose simili, fa di bisogno del consentimento del Principe, altrimenti tali cose non sarebbero valide”. Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 156–57. Royal permission was indeed also nessecary for buildings such as the Town Hall (approved by Philip II through Margaret of Parma, 29 August 1560, see Holm Bevers, Das Rathaus von Antwerpen (1561–1565). Architektur und Figurenprogramm, Hildesheim, Zürich and New York, 1985, p. 7) and the Exchange (approved by Charles V, 25 July 1531, see Jan Materné, “Schoon ende bequaem tot versamelinghe der cooplieden. Antwerpens beurswereld tijdens de gouden zestiende eeuw”, in Ter Beurze. Geschiedenis van de aandelenhandel in België, 1300–1990, eds Geert De Clercq et al., Bruges and Antwerp, 1999, pp. 51–98, here p. 60). Guicciardini stresses that “La qual’ muraglia costa veramente gran’ tesoro, peroche compresi i canali, & altre sue appartenenze, fatte nella nuova villa, ascende infino al presente, presso a un’ milione di scudi d’oro”. Guicciardini, Descrittione 1581, pp. 95–6; Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 104–6. On its financing by the city, see Hugo Soly, Urbanisme en Kapitalisme te Antwerpen in de 16de eeuw. De Stedenbouwkundige en Industriële Ondernemingen van Gilbert van Schoonbeke (Gemeentekrediet van België, Historische uitgaven Pro Civitate, reeks in-8°, 47), Brussels, 1977, pp. 203–05; ed. Soly, Gilbert van Schoonbeke. Visionair ondernemer in Antwerpens Gouden Eeuw, s.l., 2019. “Habet in murorum ambitu, cum nova ad Boream Civitate (quandoquidem iam tertium amplificata est) quinquies mille ducentos ac XII. Passus, singulo passu quinque continente pedes, seu mavis antiquos Romanos, seu Antverpianos, nam pares sunt”. Gerlo, “Toelichting bij de Kaart van Virgilius Bononiensis”, p. 145. 5 × 0.2868 × 5,212 = 7,474 m. This is the overall length, including

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The royal citadel, built by Philip II of Spain in 1567 after the design of Francesco Paciotto, “chief engineer of all Flanders” (ingegner maggiore di tutte le Fiandre) who would also serve King Philip at the Escorial, was on the contrary never considered as a part of the civic infrastructure of the city, as becomes clear from the change in tone of Guicciardini’s text. This project was foisted upon Antwerp at the instigation of the Duke of Alva, then governor of the Low Countries, with the express purpose of exercising control over the city.20 Guicciardini relates the various discussions regarding its location.21 The connection between the citadel and the 1542 fortifications (which were regarded as “perfect”) indeed posed a challenge to the military engineers, ably met by Paciotto who embedded the citadel into the south of the city near the Kiel.22 A joincte in the ground was used to achieve the connection with the earlier fortifications, the southern face of which was demolished. Not surprisingly, one of the first actions undertaken by the Calvinist Republic of Antwerp in 1577–1578 was to demolish the part of the citadel oriented towards the city, so that it could be absorbed into the defences of the town, a fact which Guicciardini also takes care to mention expressly in the later editions.23 The written image perfectly coincides with the contemporary cartographical one. While early sixteenth-century views tend to show the city seen from the river, emphasising the harbour from which stemmed its wealth, later views and maps systematically showcase the new enceinte built from 1542 and, later still, the citadel, built from 1567 onwards at the southern end, situated prominently

the quays, which also still contained medieval fortifications. Taking the length of the quays, which measured approximately 1600 paces (5 × 0.2868 × 1,600 = 2,294.4 m), we arrive at a total length of 5,179 m for the 1542 fortifications. This figure is somewhat higher than the length of 4,331 m, as measured in 1850 by the Brigade topographique du Génie. See Lombaerde, “De vroege versterkingswerken van Antwerpen”, p. 35. 20 With regard to the construction of the citadel, see Heuvel, ‘Papiere bolwercken’, pp. 117–26; Lombaerde, “De Vroege Versterkingswerken van Antwerpen”, pp. 41–3. Recently new archeological finds on the site of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp shed light on how this citadel was built and on the interpretation of the surviving plans by Francesco Paciotto, see: Veerle Hendriks, Karen Minsaer & Piet Lombaerde, “Nieuwe gegevens over de Spaanse citadel in Antwerpen naar aanleiding van recent archeologisch onderzoek”, in Historiant. Jaarboek voor Antwerpse Geschiedenis, 5, 2017, pp. 9–28. 21 Guicciardini, Descrittione 1581, pp. 96–7; Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 106–7. 22 Charles van den Heuvel, “Italiaanse ontwerpen voor citadellen in de Nederlanden (1567–1571). Het model van Paciotto versus de locatie gerichte methode van Campi”, in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 44, 1993, pp. 165–84; Charles van den Heuvel, “Cutting and Pasting Fortifications. Vredeman de Vries and the Plans for the Insertion of the Partially Dismantled Citadel of Antwerp”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries and the Artes Mechanicae Revisited, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 83–99, especially pp. 84–6. 23 Piet Lombaerde & Charles van den Heuvel, “Vredeman de Vries und die technischen Künste”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries und die Renaissance im Norden, eds Heiner Borggrefe, Thomas Fusenig & Barbara Uppenkamp, Munich, 2002, pp. 116–24, especially p. 118; Heuvel, “Cutting and Pasting Fortifications”, pp. 87–97. This is the state of affairs represented in the map in Guicciardini, Descrittione 1581, pp. 88–9 and Guicciardini, Description 1582, illustration after p. 98 (which are otherwise based on Georg Braun & Frans Hogenberg, Civitates orbis terrarum, facsim., eds R. A. Skelton et al., 6 vols, Amsterdam, 1980, vol. 1, p. 17).

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Figure 9.2. Anonymous, Bird’s eye view on the city of Antwerp with the new built citadel in 1567 in G. Braun and F. Hogenberg, Civitates Orbis Terrarum, Cologne, 1572, Vol.1, plate 17.

in the foreground of the bird’s eye view.24 The latter series begins in 1569 with the large engraving by Pieter van der Heyden, followed by Belleforest, Braun, and Hogenberg, Guicciardini (1581 and later editions), and Pieter van der Borcht.25 Through time, the dominant viewpoint thus changed from the west to the east and then to the south. The famous contemporary city atlas with texts by Georg Braun and maps engraved by Frans Hogenberg and Simon van Neuvel (Novellanus) illustrates this shift by itself, as the maps are based on various older sources. In this atlas, the city rates two views: the one in volume I, published in 1572 (Fig. 9.2), shows the latest addition to the fortifications; i.e. the citadel viewed from above in the foreground, after a woodcut from Guicciardini’s editio princeps, while the one in volume V, published around 1598, presents the older view from the east, after a drawing by Joris Hoefnagel.26 In the aforementioned views no negative connotations seem to be attached to the citadel, but there is an exception. One of two allegorical prints by Jacob 24 Anne-Marie Adriaenssens, Het Iconografisch stadsbeeld van Antwerpen in de 16de eeuw, unpublished master’s thesis, KU Leuven, 1982; Steden in beeld. Antwerpen, 1200–1800, eds Greet Bedeer & Luc Janssens, Brussels 1993, 19; Jan Grieten & Paul Huvenne, “Antwerpen geportretteerd”, in Antwerpen, Verhaal van een Metropool, pp. 69–77; Piet Lombaerde, “Antwerp in cartographic images”, in Antwerpen verbeeld–Antwerp portrayed–Anvers imaginé, Plantin-Moretus Museum Antwerp, Antwerp, 2015, pp. 27–38. 25 For additional information on this point, see Lombaerde, “De vroege versterkingswerken van Antwerpen”. 26 Introduction to the facsimile edition by R. A. Skelton, see Braun & Hogenberg, Civitates Orbis Terrarum, vol. 1, XXXIV. Maps, Braun & Hogenberg, vol. 1, 17 and vol. 5, 27.

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Figure 9.3. Anonymous. The Antwerp citadel with in the center the statue of the Duke of Alva, c. 1568, private collection, Antwerp.

Janszoon de Geyn I, who made an engraving of the surrender of Antwerp and the partial dismantling of the citadel in 1577, presents the citadel as a symbol of evil, and the demolition of the two inner bastions with intervening curtain walls is seen as a liberation from the Spanish yoke and the city’s return to prosperity and trade (Fig. 9.3). Like texts, prints of course also served propaganda purposes, especially during the last quarter of the sixteenth century. Historical prints such as those by Willem Baudart (Baudartius) and the Geschichtsblätter (historical papers) of Frans and Abraham Hogenberg recounted events, offering a city image rich in connotations. Of particular interest is a series by Johannes Pourtant or Portantius, a geographer and scientist originally from Ghent to whom six prints can be attributed; they cover a period ranging from the Alva regime up to the partial demolition of the citadel upon the takeover by the States Party in 1577.27 Their most remarkable feature is the clear iconography of Antwerp, coupled with dramatic events in the city. The first print portrays a peaceful view over the city and its latest fortifications, augmented by the citadel. In the foreground, the Mechelen road with its pavements and planted trees, windmills, 27 These prints are preserved in Simancas, the Print Room of the Plantin Moretus Museum, the Print Room of the Royal Library in Brussels and in private collections in Antwerp. For additional information on this point, see Belgicana Nostra, ed. Société Royale des bibliophiles et iconophiles de Belgique, Brussels, 2010, p. 112 and Piet Lombaerde, “Antwerpen en zijn citadel in the picture: de onbekende prentenreeks van Johannes Portantius”, in Historiant. Jaarboek voor Antwerpse Geschiedenis, 2, 2014, pp. 89–114.

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Figure 9.4. Jacques de Geyn. Allegory of the liberated city of Antwerp, with the partly demolished citadel in 1578, Antwerp, private collection.

ribbon construction in Berchem, and the connection with the shipping lane to Herentals (Herentalse vaart) where the Spanish fortifications are rendered particularly well. Behind these, the image of the city is largely characterised by the massive Church of Our Lady and the many towers of churches and abbeys. The bastioned fortifications are accurately represented, as are the five entrance gates with their bridges over the moat. The background is filled with the heavy traffic of galleons and cutters (heulen) on the River Scheldt. The left bank is identified by the settlement of the Vlaams Hoofd and the Henríquez manor. At the bottom, the print shows a tribute to Antwerp, the “triumphantly rich and renowned trading city” (de triumphelijcke rijcke en vermaerde coopstadt). The following print, on the other hand, provides a clear bird’s eye view of the citadel, with the statue of Alva adorning the centre of the armoury, while its text sings the praises of this “ingenious and strong castle” (constich ende sterck casteel) (Fig. 9.4).28 In marked contrast, the following three prints show the Spanish Fury of 1577. The first depicts the Spanish garrison leaving the citadel and penetrating the barricades erected by the people of Antwerp. In the Schermersstraat, the city’s artillery is overpowered by the Spaniards as well. The second print shows the burning of the town hall and the adjacent area. A third print presents an aerial 28 Luc Smolderen, La Statue du Duc d’Albe à Anvers par Jacques Jonghelinck (1571), Brussels, 1972, p. 6 note 8.

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perspective of the Spanish troops advancing into the newest urban extension, the New Town (Nieuwstadt). Once again, this historic scene is vividly illustrated, with the warehouse of the Hessians clearly depicted in the foreground, extending to the Falcon convent; further in the distance are the Hanseatic House, the breweries of the New Town and, finally, the plague house. Pourtant’s series closes with the destruction of the inner front of the citadel by the inhabitants of Antwerp on 23 August 1577.29 This print also offers a detailed view of the citadel and the buildings located within it, including the chapel, the governor’s palace, the barracks, the various turrets, and the windmill. One notable difference from the second print in the series, which also depicts the citadel, is the representation of the governor’s residence, now transformed into a true palace with a courtyard.30 Unfortunately, no further prints from this instructive set have been recovered to date. In the following paragraphs we will discuss, first, the actors participating in this process of urban transformation up to the 1580s; second, the public and private buildings constituting the imago urbis or, in Guicciardini’s terms, the creators and the components of its “beauty, nobility, grandeur, and magnificence”; and third, Antwerp’s role as a forum for architectural innovation. In the epilogue we will then turn to the crucial period of the Revolt, the Calvinist domination of Antwerp (1577–1585), and to its far-reaching implications for the urban development of the city. 9.3. The Creators of the Metropolitan Infrastructure From the Late Middle Ages onwards, all public building in Antwerp was managed by a number of officials employed by the city; among them the most important were the municipal master mason and master carpenter. A similar system was in place in many other cities of Brabant.31 According to the municipal accounts, the former was responsible for the fortifications, which included walls and gates, the Scheldt quays, and all buildings owned by the city. He also managed the necessary supplies of building materials, inspected deliveries of stone and lime, and provided weekly reports to the stewards regarding the performance of his journeymen bricklayers, stonemasons, and constables.32 However, he was not always responsible for the design of these works, but rather ensured the 29 Heiner Borggrefe, “Hans Vredeman de Vries and the Conditions of Artistic Profession in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries and the Artes Mechanicae Revisited, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Turnhout, 2005, pp. 7–14, especially p. 11. 30 In this print, the engraver might have depicted the palace as it appeared after being renovated by order of William of Orange. 31 Merlijn Hurx, “Architecten en Gildedwang; Vernieuwingen in de Ontwerppraktijk in de Vijftiende en Zestiende eeuw?”, in Bulletin van de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond, 108, 2009, no. 1, pp. 1–18; Merlijn Hurx, Architect en aannemer. De opkomst van de bouwmarkt in de Nederlanden 1350–1530, Nijmegen, 2012. 32 Katelijne Geerts, “Fortificatiebouwers in Antwerpen in de Zestiende Eeuw”, in Antwerpen versterkt, pp. 62–90, especially pp. 67–9.

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execution and organisation of the designs in agreement with the contractors involved. Parts of these projects were indeed outsourced in the form of taswerk (tasks contracted and paid for by unit). Until the end of the Ancien Régime, bricklayers and carpenters belonged to the corporation of the ‘Four Crowns’ (Vier Gekroonden), which also included stonemasons, bricklayers, and tilers, or roof and paving tile layers. Free masters were assisted by day labourers who were considered as bound, such as the assistants to the bricklayers and stonemasons, diggers, porters, and plasterers.33 Untrained labour was hired only for strength on major building sites (for example digging for the construction of the enceinte, the cleaning of bricks to be reused, and tidying up after finishing – work done by both men and women). During a large part of the period under review Peter Frans served as “master of the city’s masonry” (meester van der stadt metselryen), directing the important masonry works shaping the new urban infrastructure.34 He was involved in the construction of the Spanish fortifications beginning in 1542 and forty years later in the design of the Southern New Town (Nieuwe Suytstadt) as well; probably until his death in 1584. The other permanent masters alternated, however, and were regularly succeeded by others. Together with Peter Frans, Jacob Schoof, the municipal master carpenter, appears to have been the most important official involved in the Antwerp construction industry of the mid-century. In addition, Michiel Hendrickx acted on behalf of the pavers, and Hendrik Wils was responsible for the works involving diggers. There is evidence that the city paid Peter Frans’s living expenses for a dwelling or for lodgings in the large municipal warehouse for all stone materials, located near the Sint-Jansvliet (Stenen Eeckhof). His colleague, the municipal master carpenter, resided in the municipal wood storehouse (Houten Eeckhof), which was located near the Kronenburg Tower. Although their degree of independence in the overall project framework is difficult to gauge, lesser masters could play an important role as subcontractors; in the case of some frequently recurring names, bribery of key officials such as Peter Frans may well be suspected. For instance, the master masons Jan Pieters alias Jan Piers, Jan Verduyst, Jan Van Beringen, Jacob van Hulsdonck, and Peter de Bruyne who produced bridges, quays, and public buildings in the 1541–1543 period, were not altogether accidentally acolytes of Peter Frans and Michiel Van der Heyden, who – as main entrepreneurs – were in a position to favour them.35 In the 1540–1560 period, however, construction was so important in Antwerp that the local market could not supply enough labour, necessitating the hiring of journeymen and labourers from outside.36 33 Geerts, “Fortificatiebouwers”, p. 68. 34 Stadsarchief Antwerpen (henceforth SAA), R 11 fol. 73. 35 SAA, R 11 fol. 75v and 78v. On the matter of bribery, see Soly, Urbanisme en Kapitalisme te Antwerpen, p. 116. 36 Foreign pavers (vremde casseyers) were used to construct the many new streets and squares that were laid out in those years. Sometimes the rules had to be ignored: In 1549, Charles V decreed that in the Nieuwstadt masons and carpenters could be used regardless whether they were indeed burghers and free masters. Ordinance quoted by Hugo Soly, “De Brouwerijenonderneming van G. van Schoonbeke (1552–1562) (eerste deel)”, in Belgisch tijdschrift voor filologie en geschiedenis, 46, 1968,

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The inventory of drawings that Peter Frans had personally made and left to his successor Adriaen Bos in 1584 provides an excellent reflection of the responsibilities of the municipal master mason, and at the same time a fair overview of the most important public works that were built in Antwerp from 1540 until 1580.37 The list does not offer an entirely accurate record of Peter Frans’s own work, however, as many works were carried out for which he no longer possessed drawings; conversely, the fact that there is a drawing on the list does not always mean that he was the actual designer of the work.38 Even with this proviso, no fewer than fifty-five different projects are listed, showing an impressive range. In the field of military architecture, plans presumably related to the execution of the new enceinte suggest that Peter Frans was involved in or had an interest in the works from the Kipdorp (Figs 9.5 & 9.6) to the Kruiphol, including several towers within this area. His putative share in the construction or rehabilitation of the new city gates merits particular mention: the Kronenburg Gate, the Red Gate (Rode Poort), the Beguines’ Gate (Begijnenpoort), the King’s Gate (Koningspoort), and St John’s Gate (Sint-Janspoort). The list also includes the Tanners’ Tower (Huidevetterstoren), a remnant of the late medieval city walls. In the category of public infrastructure, Peter Frans might have been involved in the construction of bridges over the moat, for example at St John’s Gate, the Slijkpoort, the Rode Poort and the Papierbrug, as well as the Boeksteeg and the Scheldt quays (for example the Hooikaai and the quay at St Michael’s Abbey). Although there is no actual proof, Peter Frans might also have played a role in the designing of the Friday Market (Vrijdagmarkt), one of the major achievements of contractor Gilbert van Schoonbeke.39 The inventory also contains references to drawings for the shipping lane to Herentals. His most important urban design was that for the New Town (Nieuwstadt), another project that had been initiated by Van Schoonbeke. It is interesting to note that Peter Frans was also active during the Calvinist regime and that he had sketched designs for the refurbishment of the partially demolished citadel and probably for the Southern New Town (discussed below).40 Finally, he executed or was involved in the execution of many of the buildings determining the new face of the city, both public and private, from the boys’ orphanage, the main infirmary, and the aforementioned Stenen Eeckhof, which he renovated, to the emblematic buildings of the 1560s (see below).

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no. 2, pp. 337–92, here p. 532 note 2, after Règne de Charles-Quint, 1506–1555, eds Charles Laurent, Jules-Pierre-Auguste Lameere & Henri Simont (Recueil des ordonnances des Pays-Bas, 2nd series, 1506–1700), 6 vols, Brussels, 1893–1922, here vol. 5, pp. 508–09. SAA, PK#2228 fol. 26. Karen Michielsen, Peter Frans Meester van de Metsers. Stadsbouwmeester van Antwerpen in de 16de Eeuw, unpublished master’s thesis, University College of Antwerp, Faculty of Design Sciences, 2011; Piet Lombaerde, “Peter Frans versus Gilbert van Schoonbeke. Wie gaf het zestiende-eeuwse Antwerpen vorm?”, in Historiant. Jaarboek voor Antwerpse Geschiedenis, 7, 2019, pp. 93–117. It is not always possible to establish whether a drawing in the inventory relates to a project which had not yet been executed, or whether it refers to actual interventions. On the Vrijdagmarkt, see Soly, Urbanisme en kapitalisme te Antwerpen, pp. 178–86. SAA, PK#218.

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Figure 9.5. Denys van Alsloot, View on the moat, the Kipdorp-bridge and the Kipdorpbastion in the Winter, c. 1620, Prado Museum, Madrid, https://www. museodelprado.es/coleccion/obra-de-arte/mascarada-patinando-o-el-carnaval-sobre-elhielo/1f9d4946-3228-4cbf-ad81-dd24156c077e

The most crucial node in the network producing Antwerp’s new infrastruc­ ture was, however, not Peter Frans but the man with whom he collaborated on many occasions, entrepreneur Gilbert van Schoonbeke (1519 – † 1556). Van Schoonbeke was neither a master builder nor a city official but rather a new type of agent with a crucial role in the process of urban transformation.41 From the early 1540s onwards, Van Schoonbeke built many new streets, squares, and public buildings on commission from the magistrates of the city of Antwerp, and, most visibly, the monumental new enceinte and the New Town or Nieuwstadt to the north of the old city, which “extended the city to serve the purposes and profit of its inhabitants in the time to come” (in toecomende tyden dese stadt te moghen meerderen tot orbore ende profyte der ingesetenen der zelve) (Fig. 9.7).42 Of illegitimate birth, Van Schoonbeke had started out without a penny to his name, yet he died an extremely rich man, whose lucrative monopolies – not only on public building but also on the sixteen beer breweries in the New Town, supplied through his water house (Waterhuys)43 – had become infamous in popular opinion. Rational economic requirements drove Van Schoonbeke’s speculative projects, which were characterised by modern urban principles such as zoning, the straightening of streets, and the use of regular allotment patterns, 41 Soly, Urbanisme en kapitalisme te Antwerpen. 42 SAA, R#11 fol. 72 and 96; quoted after Geerts, “Fortificatiebouwers”, p. 68. 43 Soly, “De brouwerijonderneming van G. van Schoonbeke”.

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Figure 9.6. The recently excavated and unearthed salient with a triangular shaped spur on the Kipdorp-bastion, Photo by Piet Lombaerde.

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thus effecting a true transformation of the late medieval city within its new city walls. One of Van Schoonbeke’s outstanding achievements was the large residential area on the Markgravelei, which marked the completion of the first planned neighbourhood within a green space, with detached suburban houses. A precedent for his operations can be found, however, in the creation of the urban piazza called the New Exchange or Nyewe Borsse (1531–1533), which was to serve as a model for the whole of Europe.44 Van Schoonbeke’s new buildings, such as the public weighing house (Waag), built in 1547–1548 and lost through fire in 1873, and the tapestry hall (Tappeciers Pant), built in 1551–1552 and demolished in 1828, figure prominently in the Virgilius Bononiensis map, as do those of the second wave of public building, erected in the 1560s. The following section is dedicated to these components of the fair face of the city. 9.4. Urban Architecture, Public and Private45 … and apart from the houses of private citizens, one sees different public buildings, beautiful, sumptuous and magnificent, such as the place where tapestries are exhibited and sold; the Meat Hall, the Weighing House, and the superb lodgings lent to the English and called the Court of Lire [Lier]; because Art [Arnold], famous descendant of the most noble family of Lire, had this house built like a royal palace, because it was meant to serve as court to Emperor Charles V. And there are also the sumptuous storage rooms built expressly for the English; and the new house where the merchandise coming in overland is stored [Hessenhuis]. But no building may be called the biggest and most magnificent of these other than the house of the Osterlins [Hanseatic House]. All considered, nothing was missing in this city that was fitting for its community and sovereignty but a town hall of equal dignity; and that is why they have created a very rich one since, grand and worthy of its state; which in the final count will cost almost a hundred thousand crowns…46 Guicciardini places public and private building in a long-term perspective which culminates in the construction of the Town Hall, completed in 1565. He emphasises 44 Materné, “Schoon ende Bequaem”, pp. 56–60. 45 The distinction between public and private differs from ours, as shown by contemporary theory and practice. Public Buildings in Early Modern Europe, eds Konrad Ottenheym, Krista De Jonge & Monique Chatenet, Turnhout, 2010; see also the review by Julian Jachmann in Sehepunkte, 11, 2011), no. 9 [15.09.2011], URL: http://www.sehepunkte.de/2011/09/19402.html. 46 “…& outre les maisons des citoyens particuliers, on y voit divers edifices publics, & beaux & somptueux, & magnifiques; tels que le lieu où l’on estale & vend la Tapisserie: la Boucherie, le Poids, & le superbe logis qu’on preste aux Angloys appellé Thof van Lire; pour ce que Art, homme segnalé & issu de tresnoble famille de Lire, feit bastir ce logis comme un Palais Royal, l’ayant ordonné pour servir de Court à l’Empereur Charles cinquiesme. Y sont encor les magasins somptueux faits expres pour les Angloys: & le nouveau logis pour y deschargir la marchandise, qui vient par terre. Mais sur tout autre edifice est à iuger pour le plus grand & plus magnifique, la maison ou logis des Osterlins. En somme, il ne manquoit rien en ceste ville qui fut digne d’une telle communauté, & seigneurie, qu’un hostel de ville correspondant aux autres parties: & pour ce en ont ils fait depuis un tressomptueux, grand & digne d’un tel estat: lequel tout comté coustera pres de cent mille escuz, […]”. Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 125–6.

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Figure 9.7. Peter Frans, The new extension in the north part of the city of Antwerp, protected by the Spanish fortifications, situation c. 1560, Felixarchief Antwerp, PK #218. This was a project set up by the entrepreneur Gilbert van Schoonbeke.

richness and vastness of scale as he is wont to do, but with some justification: the size of buildings such as the Hanseatic House and the Town Hall, and the short time in which they were erected by the local construction sector – three to four years – was impressive, a fact which did not escape Antwerp’s apologist, nor did it the market. Quite early on, brick was used in such vast quantities that the city was forced to take measures against speculation and monopolisation.47 The city, on the other hand, invested not only in buildings needed for its own functioning on the administrative or economic plane, but also in the houses for the foreign ‘nations’ of merchants, the better to bind them to the city. In 1474, for instance, the English nation received its first house in the Bullincstraat (Wolstraat, where the wool trade was concentrated), which soon afterwards was enlarged and embellished; its sumptuously decorated double gable and portal with richly flamboyant ornament, traditionally attributed to master builder Domien de Waghemakere (1460 – † 1542), seemed fitting for the house of a noble family.48 In 1550–1551, as mentioned by Guicciardini, they moved to the former palace of the Van Liere family, by then owned by the city, which again

47 Rutger Tijs, Crowning the City. Vernacular Architecture in Antwerp from the Middle Ages to the Present Day, Antwerp, 1993, p. 96. 48 See SAA, PK#79, fol. 234 for the date; Edmond Geudens, Plaatsbeschrijving der straten van Antwerpen en omtrek naar het Charterboek van 1374 der H. Geesttafel van O.L.Vrouwekerk, 3 vols, Brecht, 1902, 1906, 1913, vol. 2, p. 167.

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acted as their sponsor.49 In 1561–1563, the English merchants occupied a vast, newly built warehouse adjoining the Van Liere palace at the back, with an entrance in the Pauwel Eloutstraat (actually Venusstraat).50 This building was rented out by Anna Janssens, mother-in-law to city secretary Jan van Asseliers and a well-known entrepreneur in her own right.51 The Portuguese, the Spanish – who each received a well-located house with financial aid for renovation in 1511 (Kipdorp) and 1493 (Hoogstraat) respectively – and the Hessians, who carted goods overland from the Holy Roman Empire, were also among the beneficiaries of the city’s investment in commercial infrastructure. The latter’s house (Hessenhuis), which survives to this day, was built from 1564 to 1566;52 as with the English merchants’ warehouse, some involvement of Peter Frans in its achievement may be surmised. Typologically speaking, public building in sixteenth-century Antwerp was not born in a void; the buildings produced by Gilbert Van Schoonbeke and by Peter Frans in the 1540s and 1560s were connected to the past. While the Waag presented new features such as external booms that were crucial for the further development of the type in the seventeenth-century Low Countries, the tapestry hall with its three parallel volumes covered with a shed roof and even the Hessenhuis conformed to medieval hall typology in the duchy of Brabant.53 Similarly, guild halls such as the meat hall (Vleeshuis), built in 1501–1504 by Herman de Waghemakere and his son Domien, built upon precedent, even if their size – the Vleeshuis could accommodate sixty-two butchers’ benches in its main hall, and rose three stories – was significantly bigger.54 On the other hand, the most prestigious public buildings, i.e. the New Exchange (Nyewe Borsse), the Town Hall, and even the Hanseatic House 49 Guicciardini, Description 1582, pp. 109, 130; Oskar De Smedt, De Engelse natie te Antwerpen, 2 vols, Antwerp, 1954, vol. 2, pp. 130–4; Voet et al., De stad Antwerpen, p. 131; Tijs, Crowning the City, pp. 119, 128; Materné, “Schoon ende Bequaem”, pp. 52–53. Other sources favour the date of 1558, after Sanderus, see Geudens, Plaatsbeschrijving, 2, p. 170; Augustin Thys, Historiek der straten en openbare plaatsen van Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1893, p. 220; Lode De Barsée, “Het in de Sint-Ignatiushandelshogeschool te Antwerpen begrepen Hof van Liere (1515). Aantekeningen nopens de samenstelling en enkele merkwaardige delen van het oorspronkelijke gebouw”, in Jaarboek Vereniging van de Oudheidkundige en Geschiedkundige Kringen van België, XXXIIe zitting, Congres van Antwerpen 27–31 juli 1947, pp. 101–24, here p. 104. 50 Later converted for the Mont de Piété, 1614, and now heavily transformed. De Smedt, De Engelse Natie te Antwerpen, 2, pp. 148–55; Voet et al., De Stad Antwerpen, pp. 131, 135; Bouwen door de Eeuwen heen. Inventaris van het Cultuurbezit in België. Architectuur. Deel 3na Stad Antwerpen, ed. Suzanne Van Aerschot, Ghent, 1976, pp. 524–5. Petra Maclot, Archivalische en iconografische bouwhistorische nota van de voormalige Berg van Barmhartigheid, Venusstraat 11-131-8, 2000 Antwerpen, (…), in functie van het beheerplan, unpublished report, Antwerp, 2017. 51 Hugo Soly, “De Antwerpse onderneemster Anna Janssens en de cconomische boom na de Vrede van Cateau-Cambrésis (1559)”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, inzonderheid van het oud hertogdom Brabant, 52, 1969, pp. 139–64; Soly, Urbanisme en kapitalisme te Antwerpen, pp. 279, 313, 384. 52 Falconrui 51. Bouwen door de eeuwen heen, ed. Suzanne Van Aerschot, Ghent, 1979, pp. 61–3. 53 On the Waag and on the Tapissierspand, see Soly, Urbanisme en kapitalisme te Antwerpen, pp. 165–76, 234–8; Voet et al., De Stad Antwerpen, pp. 106–7, 111–3. On the subsequent development of the Waag type, see Karl Kiem, Die Waage. Ein Bautyp des ‘Goldenen Jahrhunderts’ in Holland, Berlin, 2009. 54 Pieter Génard, “Notices sur les architectes Herman (le Vieux) et Dominique de Waghemakere”, in Bulletin des commissions royales d’art et d’archéologie, 9, 1870, pp. 429–94; Bouwen door de eeuwen heen, ed. Van Aerschot, pp. 409–13.

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connected with another typology, specifically, with contemporary innovations in palatial architecture.55 Most exceptionally, all three rated an individual illustration in the form of a double in-folio engraving by Petrus van der Borcht in the 1581 and 1582 Guicciardini editions, which also recurred in the form of vignettes accompanying later maps, such as Cornelis Visscher’s map of the mark of Antwerp, dated 1624.56 They thus played a significant part in the imago urbis. By contemporaries such as Guicciardini, Antwerp’s most noted invention on the typological plane, the New Exchange, was properly considered not to be a building but rather a traffic-free, semi-public place.57 Its design by Domien de Waghemakere was executed by Adriaen and Peter Spillemans from 1531 until 1533; the complex survived until 1858.58 Completely enclosed by the surrounding houses so that there were no exterior façades, its rectangular open space of 40 m by almost 52 m was bordered on all four sides on the ground floor by an open portico with complex columns of Ecaussines blue stone and richly decorated trefoil arches, eight by eleven. Four passages, closed at dusk, permitted access to the place and its adjacent boutiques from opposing sides; two tall turrets, one adorned with a clock, stood next to them. Two years after the devastating fire of 1581, the stunted first floor was raised to the height of a proper storey with rectangular windows. The porticoed place resembles nothing so much as the galleried courtyards of the most modern palatial architecture of the time, even including its dimensions, the turrets further reinforcing the resemblance.59 This is the construction mode called ‘the manner of Brabant’ in contemporary sources, thought fitting for the architecture of the élite at the time, and characterised by the 55 Krista De Jonge, “Bâtiment publics à fonction économique à Anvers au XVIe siècle: l’invention d’un type?”, in Public Buildings in Early Modern Europe, eds Konrad Ottenheym, Krista De Jonge & Monique Chatenet, Turnhout, 2010, pp. 183–200, discusses the typology of the New Exchange and the Hanseatic House. 56 Guicciardini, Descrittione 1581, copy in Brussels, Royal Library, VH 30683, between pp. 108–9, 126–7 and 170–1 respectively. The fourth double in-folio print (between pp. 110–11) shows the church of Our Lady. Copy of the Visscher map in Brussels, Algemeen Rijksarchief, Atlas topographique-historique, 1369. Steden in Beeld, eds Bedeer & Janssens, p. 74 fig. 65; Grieten & Huvenne, “Antwerpen geportretteerd”, p. 76. Coloured version by Jansonius in SAA, see Tijs, Crowning the City, p. 442. 57 “En Anvers y a vingt & deux places tant grandes que petites: la plus grande est celle des Seigneurs, & la plus belle est celle des marchands qui est appellée la Nouvelle Bourse, ayant deux tours & horloges, & si belle que pour la retraite des marchands à grand peine s’en trouve il de pareille ailleurs; estant libre de passage, de chariots & chevaux & de tout autre destourbier & empeschement: & en icelle ses loges & boutiques tresbelles closes de toutes parts, & esquelles on entre & sort par quatre portes: & au dessus desquelles loges y a d’une mesme longueur & espace de tresgrands logis couverts & pleins de boutiques de touts costez, lesquels on appelle le Pant des Peintures, pource que c’est là qu’on vend de toutes sortes & façons: & fut ceste Bourse fondée l’an de nostre salut 1531”. Guicciardini, Description 1582, p. 108. The nyewe borsse is indeed commonly listed as a “place” (plaetse) in the wijkboeken. 58 Frederik Clijmans, De beurs te Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1941, pp. 13–8; Sonja Anna Meseure, Die Architektur der Antwerper Börse und der europäische Börsebau im 19. Jahrhundert, Munich, 1987, pp. 22–4; Materné, “Schoon ende bequaem”, pp. 56–61. 59 See for instance the courtyard dimensions in the specifications for the Nassau palace at Diest, dated between 1516 and 1522 (never realised): 150 ft. or c. 45 m square. Bernhard Roosens, “Het lastencohier voor de bouw van een nieuw kasteel te Diest voor graaf Hendrik III van Nassau, ca. 1530”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 66, 1983, no. 1–2, pp. 155–68.

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judicious use of mixed brick and stone masonry.60 Its best representative in the Antwerp context is indeed the aforementioned Van Liere palace, the staircase turret of which, crowned by an onion spire, was drawn by Albrecht Dürer on his celebrated visit to the city in 1520.61 The connection with domestic architecture already existed in several late fifteenth-century élite residences.62 The most splendid and prestigious public building was, of course, the Town Hall, built between 1561 and 1565, the subject of one of the biggest architectural competitions of the century.63 In 1560 a special committee of representatives of the city council as well as two famous independent architects from outside, Jacques Du Brœucq from Mons and Jan Mijnsheeren from Ghent, examined a number of designs delivered by several artists, engineers, and stonemasons, among whom were sculptors such as Cornelis Floris II de Vriendt and Willem Paludanus (alias Van den Broecke), painters such as Hans Vredeman de Vries, and foreign specialists such as Niccolò Scarini from Italy, Lambert Suavius from Liège, and Loys du Foys from France. The final solution was most probably a collaboration between Floris and Paludanus, who were responsible for the façade designs in the latest antique manner, and the master masons Hendrick van Paesschen and Jan Daems who had been involved in the layout of the ground plan that Floris and Paludanus had been unable to undertake.64 Obviously, municipal master mason Peter Frans was active in its realisation as well. The façade was erected with superimposed Doric and Ionic pilasters above a slightly rusticated, arcaded base in the side bays, and with a powerful central projection of Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite half columns topped by a fantastic fifth order with herms, a sequence also mirrored in the interior decoration. As has been suggested, the central projection, with its classical orders and monumental scrolled gable, is reminiscent of the ephemeral structures erected in the Antwerp streets in 1549 for the Triumphal Entry of Charles V and Philip

60 Krista De Jonge, “‘Up die maniere van Brabant’. Brabant en de adelsarchitectuur van de Lage Landen (1450–1530)”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 86, 2003, no. 3–4, De Brabantse stad. Dertiende colloquium, Leuven 18–19 oktober 2002, pp. 409–23; Krista De Jonge, “Antiquity Assimilated: Court Architecture 1530–1560”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 55–78. 61 De Barsée, “Het in de Sint-Ignatius-handelshogeschool te Antwerpen begrepen Hof van Liere (1515)”, in Antwerpen, Verhaal van een Metropool, p. 169 cat. no. 21. 62 Petra Maclot, The Status of Stone. Urban Identity and the Typological Discourse of Private Houses in the Antwerp City during the Long Sixteenth Century, unpublished PhD dissertation, KU Leuven, 2014, pp. 280–4, 491–2. 63 See Konrad Ottenheym & Krista De Jonge, “Civic Prestige. Building the City 1580–1700”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 209–50, upon which the following paragraph is based. See also Petra Maclot & Ilse Van Ginneken, “De biografie van het Antwerpse stadhuis”, in Het stadhuis van Antwerpen. 450 jaar geschiedenis, eds Marnix Beyen et al., Antwerp, 2015, pp. 86–165. 64 Johan Rylant & Marguerite Casteels, “De metsers van Antwerpen tegen Paludanus, Floris, de Nole’s en andere beeldhouwers”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 31, 1940, pp. 185–203; Marguerite Casteels, De beeldhouwers De Nole te Kamerijk, te Utrecht en te Antwerpen, Brussels, 1961, pp. 51–2.

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of Spain into the city. Indeed, any visitor taking the traditional entry route towards the new town hall would be immediately confronted with this part of the façade upon entering the marketplace.65 In that sense, this is indeed civic architecture, since the iconography of the Triumphal Entry centred upon the just relationship between the subjects (the city) and its ruler.66 But there may also be an allusion to palace architecture, beyond the monumental size of the building (240 by 92 Antwerp ft. or c. 69 by 16.40 m).67 The use of architecture in the antique manner directly referred to the status of ancient rulers, as can be learned from a letter by Lambert van Noort, one of the other designers in the competition for the Antwerp Town Hall. In 1561 he praised his (rejected) design for its adherence to “the proportions and beauty of the Antique” (met den maten ende schoonheyt gelyck de Antycken plaghen haer edificien te maken).68 Furthermore, Van Noort stresses in his letter that his design was enriched by towers, which would provide magnificence, triumph, and splendour, “like the buildings of princes and lords in antique times” (gelyck in tempo anticho was, wat princen ende heeren eenige edificie deden maken, hadden daer grooten loff doer…). Thus, for the first time, the association is made between the belfry tower – the traditional status symbol of the Town Hall – and Antiquity and antique rule. It cannot be ruled out that the towering frontispiece of the final design also refers to this concept. In any case, Vredeman de Vries – another unlucky participant in the competition – associates towers in his work with some of the more palace-like spin-offs of the Antwerp Town Hall, most notably in his 1577 treatise Architectura.69 Other features such as the three U-shaped staircases of which one served as the grand staircase,70 each with intermediate landing, constitute an equally clear reference to contemporary palace architecture; first used in combination with the classical orders in the Nassau residence at Breda from 1536, the type is 65 Bevers, Das Rathaus von Antwerpen, pp. 82–92. 66 Hugo Soly, “Plechtige intochten in de steden van de Zuidelijke Nederlanden tijdens de overgang van Middeleeuwen naar Nieuwe Tijd: communicatie, propaganda, spektakel”, in Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 97, 1984, pp. 341–61; Meadow, “Ritual and Civic Identity”; Élodie LecuppreDesjardin, La ville des cérémonies. Essai sur la communication politique dans les anciens Pays-Bas bourguignons, Turnhout, 2004. 67 The original site on the west side of the Grote Markt comprised ten lots measuring together 236 by 88 Antwerp ft., but the project grew in size even during construction. Floris Prims, Het Stadhuis te Antwerpen. Geschiedenis en Beschrijving, Antwerp, 19301, 19412, pp. 85–6. 68 Letter by Van Noort of March 8, 1561 (SAA, PK#2197, fol. 25r), quoted in Bevers, Das Rathaus von Antwerpen, p. 161 (document IX). 69 Especially the variants on fol. 20 (Corinthian palaces). Peter Fuhring, Hollstein’s Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, vol. 48. Vredeman de Vries, Part II, 1572–1630, Rotterdam, 1997, p. 61, cat. no. 428. See also the ideal cityscape published before 1577–1578 as the city of Niniveh, left, Fuhring, p. 86, cat. no. 432. 70 On the three stairs at the town hall, see Maclot & Van Ginneken, “De bouwbiografie van het Antwerpse stadhuis”, p. 93. The Hanseatic House as well had U-shaped staircases. Apparently, the construction of that type of staircase was a specialty: engineer Lambertus Suavius from Liège had been called in for their design, as Peeter Frans (see above) lacked the neccessary expertise. The execution was entrusted to local master masons Henrick van Paesschen and Jan Daems, known for their experience in projection and stone cutting. SAA, PK#2197, fol. 25, cf. Maclot, The Status of Stone, p. 387.

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explicitly called ‘Roman’ in a contemporary source.71 Thus the architecture of the Antwerp town hall is both palatial and antique. Grapheus, for one, had not hesitated to compare the building to the seven wonders of the ancient world.72 Upon completion in 1565, its appearance became known to Europe through Melchisedech van Hooren’s woodcut, and soon afterwards through Vredeman’s paper architecture; a painted view was ordered by Philip II of Spain.73 There was only one rival for size to it at the time, duly praised by Guicciardini: the Hanseatic House, in which the city invested about one third of its total cost.74 Its first stone was laid on 5 May 1564 and only five years later, in 1569, it was finished, surprisingly quickly for a building of that size – a fact which speaks not only for solid financing but also for efficient organisation of the construction site. It was lost through fire in 1893; a few years ago, its foundations briefly came to light again. Carel van Mander, writing in 1604, attributed its design – or at least its sculpted ornament – to Cornelis Floris,75 but yet again, according to his inventory of drawings Peter Frans must have played a major role in its execution. The massive block of 80 by 62 m opened up in the middle; around the rectangular courtyard – of truly palatial size, 49 by 31 m – two lower storeys of storage rooms could be found, topped by open galleries with a double saddleback roof on each wing, 133 rooms in all.76 A staircase turret with U-shaped

71 In the 1604 inventory of the art collection belonging to the recently deceased governor of Luxemburg, Peter Ernst von Mansfeld, conserved in his suburban palace at Luxembourg. Krista De Jonge, “Le château et le jardin de ‘La Fontaine’ à Clausen dans son contexte européen”, in Un prince de la Renaissance. Pierre-Ernest de Mansfeld (1517–1604). II. Essais et catalogue, eds Jean-Luc Mousset & Krista De Jonge, Luxembourg, 2007, pp. 239–62, in particular pp. 245–6. Of Italian origin, it supplants the turning staircase by the beginning of the seventeenth century. Some residences of the élite (see below) might have had a similar staircase, such as banker Gaspare Ducci’s, 1547. See Stefaan Grieten & Petra Maclot, “Het Renaissance Interieur van Palazzo Ducci: Flirt van een Italiaans Bankier met Keizer Karel”, in Vreemd gebouwd. Westerse en niet-Westerse elementen in onze architectuur, ed. Stefaan Grieten, Turnhout, 2002, pp. 61–91, in particular p. 63. Two town clerks are also known to have had one, namely Joachim Politès, 1546 and Jan van Hoboken 1578, Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 191 and 194, pp. 386–8. 72 “… aequandum etiam stupendis illis mundi miraculis”. Quoted after Gerlo, “Toelichting bij de kaart van Virgilius Bononiensis”, p. 146. 73 A rare surviving copy of Van Hooren’s woodcut is in Vienna, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, inv. 1949/849, 33. Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, pp. 243–4, cat. no. 92. For Vredeman de Vries, see in particular the independent views published in 1564–1565. Peter Fuhring, Hollstein’s Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, vol. 47. Vredeman de Vries, Part I, 1555–1571, Rotterdam, 1997, pp. 162–3, cat. no. 181–82. Corbet, Cornelis Floris, p. 42. 74 Albert Himler, “Historiek en voorgeschiedenis van het Hanzehuis te Antwerpen 1564–1893”, in Tijdschrift der Stad Antwerpen, 20, 1974, pp. 99–111, pp. 166–75. 75 Karel van Mander. The Lives of the Illustrious Netherlandish and German Painters, from the first edition of the Schilder-boeck (1603–1604), ed. Hessel Miedema, 6 vols, Doornspijk, 1994–1999, vol. 1, pp. 216–7, vol. 4, pp. 25–26; Domien Roggen & Jan Withof, “Cornelis Floris”, in Gentse bijdragen tot de kunstgeschiedenis, 8, 1942, pp. 79–171, in particular pp. 138–40; Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, ed. Van der Stock, p. 238, cat. no. 87; Jan Van Damme, “Architectuur”, in Antoinette Huysmans, Jan Van Damme, Carl Van de Velde, & Christine Van Mulders, Cornelis Floris 1514–1575 beeldhouwer architect ontwerper, Brussels, 1996, pp. 115–20, in particular pp. 119–20. 76 Steden in Beeld, eds Bedeer & Janssens, p. 44. To compare, the biggest noble residence of the time in the Low Countries, the castle of Count Jean de Hennin-Liétard at Boussu, Hainaut, measures some 81 m square (main building without its corner towers), with a courtyard of 44,20 × 40,80 m.

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stairs stood in each corner. In spite of its specific purpose, until its destruction the building served as maritime façade to the city, as it fronted upon the main dock of the New Town where, according to Guicciardini, a hundred ships could find berth.77 Like the author, the Hanseatic envoys are said to have called it a “palace”.78 The massive tower with the onion spire above its entrance indeed constitutes a standard element of contemporary palace architecture,79 and its décor of columns signifies additional prestige, more in keeping with a town hall than with storerooms. The Hessian House and the English Warehouse lacked representational towers but could also boast some fine portals in red limestone from Baelen and blue limestone from Hainaut, enhancing their brick masonry alternating with white stone bands.80 Contemporary domestic building, as presented in the official sources, offers a similar complex image with intersecting typologies.81 In between the landmark buildings described above, the Virgilius Bononiensis map shows a variety of intermingled anonymous private houses, whose salient features – of the decorative kind, such as pinnacles, porches, spires; of materials such as wood, brick and limestone, tile and slate, and even structural elements such as staircase turrets and galleries – are occasionally quite recognisable, albeit mostly without enough information on their type. When, however, full archaeological and archival research is possible,82 the map usually shows itself to be quite dependable, even if an accurate representation of the layout of the building does not seem to have been among the artist’s priorities, and even if some houses seem to have been voluntarily omitted.83 Ranked according to size, function, and social prestige, there are the single-room cottage – a compact, single and undivided volume with cellar,

Guicciardini, Description 1582, p. 107: “Palays des Osterlins”. Himler, “Historiek en Voorgeschiedenis van het Hanzehuis”, p. 110. De Jonge, “‘Up die Maniere van Brabant’”, p. 415. The same stone types can be recognized in the Town Hall and, in the case of the Hainaut blue stone, in the façade of Cornelis Floris’s own house on the Everdijstraat. Quarry owners Antoine Hanicq and Grégoire Boulle (whose marks figure on both), often collaborated with Floris, as shown by Petra Maclot’s research on the Town Hall (2012) and on the Floris House (2009 and 2012). Petra Maclot, “Artists’ Houses in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp: the Cases of Frans and Cornelis Floris”, in Artifex– Sources and Studies on the Social History of the Artist, Petersberg, 2018, pp. 115–124. 81 See Maclot, The Status of Stone. The following paragraph is based on Petra Maclot, “A Portrait Unmasked. The Iconology of the Birds’-Eye View by Virgilius Bononiensis (1565) as a Source for Typological Research of Private Buildings in Fifteenth- and Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Portraits of the City. Representing Urban Space in Later Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds Maximiliaan Martens, Katrien Lichtert & Jan Dumolyn, Turnhout, 2014, pp. 33–48. 82 Petra Maclot, “Towards an Alternative Solution for the Detection of Historic Structures in Antwerp (Belgium)”, in Proceedings of the Third International Congress on Construction History, eds Karl-Eugen Kurrer, Werner Lorenz, & Volker Wetzk, Cottbus, 2009, vol. 2, pp. 967–74. 83 For instance, the Huis van Aken, then residence of the Schetz family, lacks its elegant tower (albeit built in 1539); the row of prominent and lordly town residences along the Venusstraat (1550–1551), inhabited by distinguished families of some political weight, is also missing, as is the monumental tower (c. 1551) of the house belonging to mayor Van Straelen at the time, possibly for political reasons. Maclot, “A Portrait unmasked”, pp. 42–3. This may however also point to the existence of an earlier version c. 1550, only partially updated for reprint in 1565 through the addition of the new public buildings. 77 78 79 80

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ground-floor, and attic – in which a great majority of Antwerp’s poorer inhabitants lived; the shopkeeper’s house combining shop and dwelling – a bigger, oblong single volume with a cellar, often extended below street level, a ground-floor with a suspended, or ‘hanging’, room, a first floor, and attics, the wooden pentice on its façade indicating commercial use of its front room; the merchant’s house, and the town residence, both on larger and deeper plots. The merchant’s house could vary in size; its commercial part in front is clearly separated from the living quarters. It typically consists of large oblong volumes with cellars, a raised ground floor with possibly suspended rooms or even an inserted floor, first and second floor; the larger versions had an inner court, often with a gallery, and a posterior wing, again with several floors and attics, and some even had a small garden at the back. Representing quite another level of savoir vivre, the town residence, exemplified by the aforementioned Van Liere palace, is a vast complex of different volumes, without any commercial function, and accessible by a gate, most with a gallery in the courtyard and some even with a tower, also with a range of outer buildings and a garden. These types, especially the upper-class ones, also occur in other cities of the Southern Low Countries, from Bruges to Mechelen.84 The main representational elements, present at least from the last decades of the fifteenth century, comprise first and foremost the staircase tower, often with fanciful spire, and secondly the porticoed gallery usually along one and sometimes on two sides of the interior courtyard. The Bononiensis map displays forty-one tall towers with an additional four in the guise of a viewing platform or belvedere on top of a roof; only eight, heavily restored examples survive today.85 To this day popular myth attributes these towers erroneously to Spanish paymasters (pagadores) said to use them as lookout for their ships, hence the name pagaddertorens, but a close look at their sites, in many cases far from the quays, and their height, mostly not rising far enough above the roofs, tells another story. Research on site has shown that these towers invariably loomed up on the far side of the first inner courtyard, clearly visible to whomever came in by the portal, but actually hardly visible from the street outside. Containing a stone or wooden winding staircase, the tower stood as a rule in the angle of the back and side wings, giving access to both from the courtyard. Once the tower reached the level of the attic, it became an architectural feature of sheer luxury: the Bononiensis map shows polygonal spires with gables, domes, onion

84 Krista De Jonge, Piet Geleyns, & Markus Hörsch, Gotiek in het Hertogdom Brabant, Leuven, 2009, pp. 91–2. Bruges examples such as the Hof van Bladelin and the Hof van Watervliet in Luc Devliegher, De Huizen te Brugge, Tielt, 1975, pp. 237–42, 268–72. 85 Hoff van Lyere (Prinsstraat), Spieghel (Grote Markt) and Wolsack (Oude Beurs), Rhyn (Hofstraat), Stove (Lijnwaadmarkt), tHuys metten Thoren (Stoelstraat), Ghulden Cop (Hoogstraat), Grooten Meulensteen (Kort Nieuwstraat). On private towers Maclot, “A Portrait Unmasked”, p. 42 and Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 280–84. On the onion spire as a mark of prestige in sixteenthcentury Netherlandish architecture, see Krista De Jonge, “Toitures pyramidales à bulbe, signe identitaire de l’architecture Habsbourg d’origine brabançonne”, in Toits d’Europe. Formes, structures, décors et usages du toit à l’époque moderne (XVe-XVIIe siècle), eds Monique Chatenet & Alexandre Gady, Paris, 2016, pp. 25–46.

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bulbs, open-work parapets or crenellations, or combinations of all of the above. Unlike a dovecote or family chapel, erecting a private tower was not an official privilege, nor was a building permit needed as these towers stood well within the plot and did not interfere with the adjacent properties. They must be seen as an element of prestige because of their limited functionality, but hardly an exclusive one, as they were not limited to any particular social group among the well-heeled. Galleries, on the other hand, were far more common and usually were not associated with a tower, the few exceptions where they were built together showing a distinct resemblance to the disposition of the houses of the nobility.86 9.5. Importing and Exporting ‘Renaissance’ It is a constant in older literature to call anything innovative or seemingly new in sixteenth-century Antwerp (or Netherlandish) architecture such as the pagaddertorens ‘Spanish’ or ‘Italian’, the latter as a synonym for ‘Renaissance’.87 As the concept is unfortunately often taken to mean ‘Italian influence’ in the unidirectional sense only, recent scholarship on Netherlandish architectural history uses the more neutral designation of ‘Early Modern’, preferring to tackle the relationship between local context and outside phenomena using less value-laden terms.88 The fact remains that from the last decades of the fifteenth century a new ornamental repertory of forms, creatively inspired by Antiquity, came in from Italy; similar to other parts of Europe beyond the Alps, it called forth an equally creative reaction, leading to a new architecture beyond a simple imitation or even assimilation of forms.89 In contemporary sources it is consistently called ‘antique’; the antique forms were not perceived as particularly Italian but as universal in origin and value, and an integral part 86 Over 300 gaelderyen have been inventoried for the sixteenth to the eighteenth century, and the list is still growing (see Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 270–6). On the disposition of noble houses, see De Jonge, “Antiquity Assimilated. Court Architecture 1530–1560”, pp. 58–9. On the long gallery as a feature of Burgundian and Habsburg court architecture, see Krista De Jonge, “Galleries at the Burgundian-Habsburg Court from the Low Countries to Spain 1430–1600”, in Europäische Galeriebauten. Galleries in a Comparative European Perspective (1400–1800), eds Christina Strunck & Elizabeth Kieven, Munich, 2010, pp. 73–88. 87 A case in point in Rutger Tijs, Renaissance- en Barokarchitectuur in België, Tielt, 1997. On this subject, see Krista De Jonge, “Style and Manner in Early Modern Netherlandish Architecture (1450–1600). Contemporary Sources and Historiographical Tradition”, in Stil als Bedeutung in der Nordalpinen Renaissance. Wiederentdeckung einer methodischen Nachbarschaft, eds Stephan Hoppe, Matthias Müller & Norbert Nussbaum, Regensburg, 2007, pp. 102–23, and Krista De Jonge, “Introduction: Italy as a Beacon?”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 18–9. 88 Such as Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, especially Parts I and II. Specifically on Antwerp, see also Krista De Jonge, “Anticse wercken: ‘Vreemd gebouwd’ in de 16de eeuw”, in Vreemd Gebouwd, pp. 35–60. 89 Jean Guillaume, “Avant-propos: Renaissance ou Renaissances?”, in L’invention de la Renaissance. La réception des formes ‘à l’antique’ au début de la Renaissance, ed. Jean Guillaume, Paris, 2003, pp. 7–8.

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of the national past.90 From the earliest decades of the century, Netherlandish humanists started searching for archaeological evidence of their Roman roots: the Low Countries were seen as a former part of the Roman Empire. Only in the second half of the sixteenth century did Hans Vredeman de Vries firmly label the “antique manner of building” promoted by Vitruvius and Serlio as “Italian” (de antiquiteyte Italiaense maniere), distinguishing it from the architecture of contemporary masters, who had assimilated the antique way of building into the local context and created a new, modern architecture.91 But as shown by buildings such as the New Exchange, the Hof van Liere built for Mayor Arnold van Liere (Aert van Lyere), a knight, in 1515–1520, and the Huys van Aken built for the wealthy Schetz family, German merchant bankers, in 1539,92 until the 1550s another architectural language was available to the discerning patron, i.e. the latest form of the Gothic, the flamboyant or Renaissance Gothic, called ‘modern’ at the time in contrast to the ‘antique’ or Renaissance style. With the work of Domien de Waghemakere, praised for his “industry, science, intelligence, and good sense” (industrie, scientie, experientie, verstant ende goed advys),93 Antwerp must be called one of the capitals of this other new style too. From the time of his father Herman’s death in 1503, Domien was also the master of the emblematic north spire of Our Lady, completed in 1521, and of the last stages of the tower of St Jacob’s, left unfinished in 1533; he was well connected with the larger Brabantine network centred upon the Keldermans family, the chief diffusers of this new Gothic throughout the Low Countries and beyond.94 On an equal footing with the Antique, the ornate Renaissance Gothic enjoyed immense prestige in the

90 Krista De Jonge, “Antikisch und Antikisierendes im höfischen Kontext. Adelsarchitektur in den südlichen Niederlanden im frühen 16. Jahrhundert”, in Wege zur Renaissance. Beobachtungen zu den Anfängen neuzeitlicher Kunstauffassung im Rheinland und den Nachbargebieten um 1500, eds Norbert Nussbaum, Claudia Euskirchen, & Stephan Hoppe, Cologne, 2003, pp. 187–210; De Jonge, “Anticse Wercken: Architecture in the Antique Manner 1500–1530”, pp. 21–5, 30–1. 91 In his 1577 treatise Architectura, see the commentary accompanying plate 6 on the Doric Order. Konrad Ottenheym & Krista De Jonge, “Of Columns and Wooden Piles. The Foundations of Architectural Theory in the Low Countries 1560–1625”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 93–110, in particular pp. 95–6. In general, see Karl Enenkel and Konrad Ottenheym, Ambitious Antiquities, Famous Forebears. Constructions of a Glorious Past in the Early Modern Netherlands and in Europe, Leiden, 2019. 92 Thys, Historiek der Straten, p. 77. 93 Contract of 29 January 1518 between the magistrate of Ghent, and Domien de Waghemakere and Rombout II Keldermans, master builder to Emperor Charles V. Frieda Van Tyghem, Het Stadhuis van Gent. Voorgeschiedenis – Bouwgeschiedenis. Veranderingswerken – Restauraties. Beschrijving – Stijlanalyse, 2 vols, Brussels, 1978, vol. 1, pp. 101–3, vol. 2, pp. 388–91. Klaus Jan Philipp, “‘Eyn huys in manieren van eynre kirchen’. Werkmeister, Parliere, Steinlieferanten, Zimmermeister und die Bauorganisation in den Niederlanden vom 14. bis zum 16. Jahrhundert”, in Walraf-Richartz Jahrbuch, 50, 1989, pp. 69–113, in particular pp. 88–92. 94 Witness the many collaborations with Rombout II Keldermans, amongst others on St Jacob’s from 1525. On the Keldermans, see Keldermans. Een architectonisch netwerk in de Nederlanden, eds Herman Janse, Ruud Meischke, J. H. van Mosselveld, & Frieda Van Tyghem, The Hague and Bergen op Zoom, 1987, and most recently Hurx, Architect en Aannemer.

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Low Countries until it slowly died out, the patrons’ taste taking a definitive turn towards the Antique around the middle of the sixteenth century.95 Who were the earliest patrons of the new style in the antique manner in Antwerp? A mixed group to all accounts, in which the foreign merchants did not take a significantly larger part than the local élite and artists alert to the newest trends. House types apparently did not change,96 but new ornament was welcomed in painted decoration, for instance in the painter Quinten Metsys’s house in the form of a grisaille painting with swags, cartouches, grotesques, trompe-l’œil figures, and the imperial emblem with the columns of Hercules (1528).97 Canon Willem Heda of Utrecht’s house at the Groenplaats is an important survivor of the early period, albeit too heavily restored; it was built around 1520, shortly before the patron’s death in 1525. Known as the House with the Diamonds (Karbonkelhuys) because of its rusticated diamond-point base (removed in 1911), it possesses a façade with superimposed pilaster orders, whose shafts are decorated with arabesque ornaments taken from contemporary North-Italian engravings.98 Author of an inventory of antique finds, Heda had arbitrated one of the earliest documented cases of artistic conflict caused by the adoption of the antique style.99 The contract of 19 September 1519 for the copper screen of St Martin’s altar in the cathedral at Utrecht had ordered the master carver Gregorius Wellemans from Antwerp to avoid “anything which is modern” and to use the proper antique, but the design apparently had not come out well, leading to open conflict between Wellemans and the founder, Jan van Eynde from Mechelen.100 Antwerp carvers were indeed among the early specialists of the antique style, which was well received and promoted by the city’s corporations as shown by their altars in the church of Our Lady.101 On the

95 Ethan Matt Kavaler, “Renaissance Gothic in the Netherlands: The Uses of Ornament”, in The Art Bulletin, 82, 2000, pp. 226–51; Krista De Jonge, “‘Scientie’ et ‘experientie’ dans le gothique moderne des anciens Pays-Bas”, in Le Gothique de la Renaissance, eds Monique Chatenet, Krista De Jonge, Ethan Matt Kavaler and Norbert Nussbaum, Paris, 2011, pp. 199–216. 96 Maclot, The Status of Stone. 97 St Quinten in the Schutterhofstraat. André De Bosque, Quinten Metsys, Brussels, 1975, pp. 42–4; Lode De Clercq & Petra Maclot, “Zorg en zin voor kleur”, in Open Monumentendag Vlaanderen. Antwerpen. Zondag 8 september 1996, Antwerp, 1996, pp. 7–14. 98 Linda Van Langendonck, “Het Karbonkelhuis van kannunik Willem Heda. Een renaissance primavera op de Groenplaats in Antwerpen (1520–1522)”, in Vreemd Gebouwd, pp. 93–112, proposes a dating of 1520–1522. 99 On the inventory, see Sandra Langereis, Geschiedenis als ambacht. Oudheidkunde in de Gouden Eeuw: Arnoldus Buchelius en Petrus Scriverius, Hilversum, 2001, pp. 50–1, 97–104. The inventory remained unpublished, but circulated freely in manuscript form. 100 Harry Pierre Coster, “Het koperen hek voor het altaar van St Maarten in den Dom te Utrecht”, in Bulletin van de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond, 2nd ser., 2, 1909, pp. 196–218; Hans Van Miegroet, “Modern, Antique, and Novelty Antique in 1517”, in Liber Amicorum Raphaël De Smedt. 2. Artium Historia, ed. Joost Vander Auwera, Leuven, 2001, pp. 153–72. 101 Petra Maclot, “All’antica Architecture in Antwerp and the Visibility and Presence of Artists and Guilds in Artists’ Homes, Corporation Houses and the Town Hall”, in Material Culture. Präsenz und Sichtbarkeit von Künstlern, Zünften und Bruderschaften in der Vormodernen / Presence and Visibility of Artists, Guilds and Brotherhoods in the Pre-Modern Era, eds Andreas Tacke, Birgit Ulrike Münch and Wolfgang Augustyn, Petersberg, 2017, pp. 76–99.

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site of the new residence of Antoine de Lalaing at Hoogstraten, for instance, teams from Antwerp rubbed shoulders with teams from Breda; one of the main specialists, master Pauwels Ackerman, was registered as antycksnyder in the Antwerp Liggeren in 1529.102 In another rare surviving case where there was a connection with court society, Antwerp citizens could also see a manifesto of antique ornament. The vast residence of Prince-Bishop Érard de la Marck of Liège in the Lange Gasthuisstraat had a finely carved portal with arabesque motifs, putti, and candelabra columns, which is now at St Jacob’s. It comes very close to the work of one of the Liège protagonists of the style, the sculptor Daniel Mauch, and its blue stone material (carboniferous limestone) suggests it was imported as a ready-made from Hainaut.103 In a similar example, the guild of the drapers (Lakenbereiders and Droogscheerders) imported the façade of its house on the Grote Markt, De Gulde Balance, from Hainaut after the fire of 1541.104 Its unknown designer wrestled with a problem also familiar to the architect of the courtyard of the Oude Vierschaar, Antwerp’s new hall of justice dating from 1539 to 1540: where to place a Doric frieze with triglyphs in a system of arcades.105 The market for carving in the antique style must have exploded in the late 1530s, so that there was a dearth of specialists: on 29 March 1539, Claudius Floris and Willem van der Borcht, master cleynstekers (sculptors), of Antwerp, were condemned because they had engaged craftsmen from outside the town who had not paid their dues to the masons’ guild.106 Seven masters in antycksnyden had been officially registered in the guild’s documents between 1529 and 1538.107 By the late 1530s, the network around town clerk Cornelis Grapheus, whose decisive role in the formation of the imago urbis we have seen, set the boundaries for all inquiries into antique architectural theory in the Low Countries for almost a century.108 The painter Pieter Coecke van Aelst’s first venture into the field, Die Inventie der colommen, appeared in Antwerp in 1539 as a small octavo

102 As shown by the accounts, 1525–1540, see Hoogstraten, City Archive, Gelmelrekeningen. On Pauwels Ackerman, see Jozef Duverger, Marie Josée Onghena & Piet K. van Daalen, “Nieuwe gegevens aangaande XVIde-eeuwse beeldhouwers in Brabant en Vlaanderen”, in Mededelingen van de Koninklijke Vlaamse Academie voor Wetenschappen, Letteren en Schone Kunsten van België, Klasse der Schone Kunsten, 15, 1953, no. 3, pp. 3–95, in particular pp. 24, 27, 31; Gerard W. C. van Wezel, Het paleis van Hendrik III graaf van Nassau te Breda Zeist and Zwolle, 1999, p. 111. 103 Stefaan Grieten & Krista De Jonge, “The discovery of a monument of the ‘Liège Renaissance’: the doorway of the residence of Erard de la Marck in Antwerp”, in Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 77, 2014, no. 1, pp. 73–100. 104 Grote Markt 38. Bouwen door de eeuwen heen, 3na, ed. Van Aerschot, pp. 68–9. 105 Formerly at the corner of the Zakstraat and the Mattenstraat. Tijs, Crowning the City, p. 261. 106 Document from SAA cited by Duverger, Onghena, & van Daalen, “Nieuwe gegevens aangaande XVIde-eeuwse beeldhouwers in Brabant en Vlaanderen”, pp. 68–9, doc. XV. Both his nephew, Cornelis II Floris, and the latter’s son, Cornelis III, would be condemned for the same transgression, in 1559 and 1595 respectively. Roggen & Withof, “Cornelis Floris”, p. 86. 107 Van Damme, “Architectuur”, p. 13. 108 De Jonge, “Vitruvius, Alberti and Serlio”; De Jonge, “Anvers: les premières traductions”; De Jonge, “Standardizing ‘Antique’ Architecture”.

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with an original print run of over 650 copies, only three of which survive.109 This serviceable little manual on the Vitruvian column orders, while useful, cannot compete with Coecke’s other publishing ventures. His unauthorised translations of Sebastiano Serlio’s Book IV Regole generali di architettura… sopra le cinque maniere de gli edifici (Venice, 1537), also published at Antwerp by Gillis Coppens van Diest from 1539 to 1543, constitute a landmark in the history of architectural publishing in Northern Europe. Coecke was indeed the first to make Serlio’s handbook available to a non-Italian audience, incidentally also rendering it the most popular publication of its type in sixteenth-century Europe.110 These texts clearly set out what the rules governing the design of architecture in the antique manner were, and how its individual components were to be constructed correctly: capitals, bases, columns, pedestals, pediments, entablatures, cornices, and architraves. Coecke’s publications – especially the more affordable Inventie, which cost only one stuyver (stiver) – thus offered the Netherlandish craftsman the first useful guide for fashioning correct, antique forms or, as Coecke put it himself, “the best guide to understanding Vitruvius”. Grapheus not only praised Coecke’s endeavour in a poem in the Flemish translation of Book IV, the first one to appear (1539),111 but must even have been instrumental in getting Coecke a rent subsidy from the city in 1542–1543, when the painter was preparing the French and German translations of that book, all of them printed by Gillis Coppens.112 Grapheus himself, eulogised as an expert in antique epigraphy,113 belonged to the humanist class which must have supported Vitruvian studies. In this milieu 109 Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Die Inventie der colommen met haren coronamenten ende maten. Uut Vitruvio ende andere diversche Auctoren op corste vergadert voer scilders, beeltsniders, steenhouders, &c. Ende allen die ghenuechte hebben in edificien der Antiquen, Antwerp, 1539. Ghent, University Library, BHSL. RES.1448, incomplete (facsimile in Rudi Rolf, Pieter Coecke van Aelst en zijn architectuuruitgaves van 1539, Amsterdam, 1978); Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek, 40.5.1 Geom., with water stain (first mentioned in Archäologie der Antike. Aus den Beständen der Herzog August Bibliothek 1500–1700, ed. Margaret Daly Davis, exhibition catalogue, Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbüttel, 1994, pp. 29–30); Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, A. civ. 53 (with thanks to Yves Pauwels). Sune Schéle, “Pieter Coecke and Cornelis Bos”, in Oud Holland, 77, 1962, pp. 235–40. 110 Sebastiano Serlio à Lyon. Architecture et imprimerie, vol. 1. Le traité d’architecture de Sebastiano Serlio. Une grande entreprise éditoriale au XVIe siècle, ed. Sylvie Deswarte, Lyon, 2004. 111 Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Generale Reglen der Architecturen op de vyve manieren van edificien, te weten, thuscana dorica, ionica, corinthia ende composita, met den exemplen der antiquiteiten die int meeste deel concorderen met de leerinhge van Vitruvio, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1539. 112 Jan Van der Stock, “Fluiten in het donker”, in De Gulden Passer, 76–77, 1998–1999, pp. 361–9, in particular p. 65; Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Reigles generales de l’architecture, sur les cincq manieres d’edifices, ascavoir, thuscane, doricq[ue], ionicq[ue], corinthe & co[m]posite, avec les exemples dantiquitez, selon la doctrine de Vitruve, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1542; Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Die gemaynen reglen von der Architectur uber die funf manieren der Gebeu, zu wissen, thoscana, dorica, ionica, corintia, und composita…, Antwerp: Gillis Coppens van Diest, 1542. 113 In the correspondence between himself and Joos Facuez, secretary to the Chancellor, on the Merode tomb in Geel, 1553–1554: “Cornelis Grapheus die dagelyxs anders niet en doet dan epitafiums te ordineren, hij weet die antixze maniere van de Romaijnen, hij maeckt zijn werkck daer af ”. A. Cosemans, “Correspondentie van Cornelis Floris betreffende het Merode-praalgraf te Geel”, in Belgisch tijdschrift voor oudheidkunde en kunstgeschiedenis/Revue belge d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’art, 5, 1935, pp. 251–61, in particular p. 260, doc. 11.

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the antique treatise of Vitruvius was known and read, as shown by evidence such as Cornelis Grapheus’s introduction to Pomponius Gauricus’s treatise De Sculptura, published at his brother Jan Grapheus’s printing house in Antwerp in 1528, which quotes not only Vitruvius but also Leon Battista Alberti’s De Re Aedificatoria, which was completed in manuscript in 1452 but appeared in print only from 1486 onwards.114 These texts establish design (of architecture and of sculpture) as an intellectual activity; work of the mind rather than of the hands. Coecke also might have used libraries such as that of Petrus Aegidius (Pieter Gillis), Grapheus’s predecessor, the content of which is known through a surviving inventory.115 A rare report concerning an Utrecht court case of 1543, which implicated several members of the Antwerp guilds through the mediation of Grapheus, can serve to show the impact of theory on practice. The Utrecht master builder Willem van Noort, who in 1546 executed the new Utrecht Town Hall with its Antique-inspired façade, had been accused by his former business partner, the stonecutter and sculptor Jacob van der Borch, of withholding the latter’s rightful share in the profit van Noort had made by designing architecture. According to the Utrecht guild rules, a mason like van Noort could not design architecture. Van der Borch naturally looked for support within the world of the traditional building corporations; it is telling that his expert witnesses came from Kampen, a smaller town within the Utrecht sphere of influence, while Van Noort’s came from Antwerp. In keeping with the new status architecture was slowly gaining at the time in the avant-garde, all Antwerp witnesses affirmed that only people who were capable of making designs could aspire to the title of master. Architectural design was an independent, free art, a geometrical art – de consten van der geometrien ende architecturen – superior to mere manual labour; this was of course borne out by the paraphrases from Alberti and Vitruvius that Grapheus added to the testimony. In support of Van Noort the six Antwerp experts – the stonecutters and sculptors Rombout van den Loocke, Rombout de Drijvere and Philip Lammekens, the master carpenter Peter Theels (or Thiels), the masons Peter Frans and Peter de Bruijne – stated that in their experience, architectural designs could be, and frequently were, made by persons not belonging to the stonecutters’ and sculptors’ guild. Among the examples cited by them, there were three Italian names, showing their awareness of the bigger out-of-town projects: the painter Tommaso Vincidor da Bologna, “who had designed the castle at Breda”, “Master Alexander”, possibly Alessandro Pasqualini, “who had made the project for the renovation of the castle at Buren”, and Donato de’ Boni, “who had designed the citadel at Ghent”, and, in fact,

114 Pomponio Gaurici Neapolitani, viri undecunq[ue] doctissimi, De Sculptura seu Staturaria, libellus sane[] elegantissibus, pictoribus, sculptoribus, statuarijs, architectis, & c. (…), Antwerp: Jan Grapheus, 1528. Prims, “Het eigen werk van Cornelis Grapheus”. 115 Gilbert Tournoy & Michel Oosterbosch, “The Library of Pieter Gillis”, in Les humanistes et leur bibliothèque. Humanists and their Libraries, ed. Rudolf De Smet, Leuven, Paris and Sterling, 2002, pp. 143–58.

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the new enceinte at Antwerp.116 The new self-consciousness of the ‘artist’ – a new-fangled term which slowly grew to designate the erudite practitioner of architectural design, first in the context of the court117 – also expressed itself in his house. Decorated with allegorical painting and sculpture according to an erudite programme, its street façade stressed his status as pictor doctus, as shown in the house of painter Frans Floris (c. 1563), his brother’s, sculptor Cornelis II Floris’ (1550/1560), and painter-merchant Cornelis van Dalem’s house Pictura (1563).118 Shortly afterwards, sculptor Guillelmus Paludanus followed with his house Liefde (Love) at the Wapper (1567).119 At the same time the traditional steep roof structures with stepped gables changed into elegantly sloped hipped roofs, a remarkable novelty that the artists’ houses shared with the new public buildings of the 1560s, such as the town hall and the Hanseatic House.120 Antwerp’s own contribution to the development of the antique repertory of forms consisted of an original combination of the five Serlian column orders and of certain Serlian motifs, Roman in origin, with the grotesque and flat scrollwork (or strap work) ornament taken from the fertile environment of Fontainebleau in France. Connections with the latter abounded, as there were many Netherlandish artists active in Fontainebleau,121 but the print medium constituted the main

116 For Tommaso Vincidor, see Van Wezel, Het paleis van Hendrik III graaf van Nassau te Breda, pp. 83–93, 151–61. For Donato de’ Boni, see Heuvel, ‘Papiere bolwercken’, pp. 26, 46–8, 150; Heuvel & Roosens, “Los Países Bajos. Las fortificaciones y la coronación de la defensa del imperio de Carlos V”, pp. 583–4. For Alessandro Pasqualini, see Der italienische Architekt Alessandro Pasqualini (1493–1559) und die Renaissance am Niederrhein: Kenntnisstand und Forschungsperspektiven, eds. Günter Bers & Conrad Doose, Jülich, 1994, and ‘Italienische’ Renaissancebaukunst an Schelde, Maas und Niederrhein. Stadtanlagen – Zivilbauten – Wehranlagen, eds Günter Bers & Conrad Doose, Jülich, 1999. For Philip Lammekens, see Jozef Duverger, “De architect Philip Lammekens ca. 1493–1548”, in Opus musivum, een bundel studies aangeboden aan Professor Doctor M.D. Ozinga ter gelegenheid van zijn zestigste verjaardag op 10 november 1962, eds. H. W. M. van der Wyck, C. Boschma, & H. M. Van den Berg, Assen, 1964, pp. 181–9. 117 Krista De Jonge, “The Court Architect as Artist in the Southern Low Countries 1520–1560”, in Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, 59, 2009–2010, Envisioning the Artist in the Early Modern Netherlands, eds. H. Perry Chapman & Joanna Woodall, Zwolle, 2010, pp. 110–35. 118 Arenbergstraat, demolished; Everdijstraat 35; Lange Nieuwstraat, demolished, respectively. Carl Van de Velde, Frans Floris (1519/20–1570). Leven en werken, 2 vols, Brussels, 1975, vol. 1, pp. 34–40; Tijs, Crowning the City, p. 239; Jan Van Damme, “Portretbuste van Albrecht Dürer”, in Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, pp. 165–6. 119 Jozef Duverger & Marie Josée. Onghena, “Beeldhouwer Willem van den Broecke alias Guilielmus Paludanus (1530 tot 1579 of 1580)”, in Gentse bijdragen tot de kunstgeschiedenis, 5, 1938, pp. 75–140, in particular pp. 94–7; Petra Maclot, “Maniërisme in Antwerpen. Ontwerptekening uit 1602 voor een paviljoen met galerij, poort met luifel, stoep met banken en leuntafel”, in Bulletin Antwerpse Vereniging voor Bodem- & Grotonderzoek, 2005, no. 2, pp. 1–25, in particular pp. 3–4; Hans M. J. Nieuwdorp, “Het ‘Aards Paradys’ of ‘de Liefde’, een verloren gewaand schoorsteenreliëf van Willem van den Broecke, alias Paludanus (1530–1580)”, in Bulletin der Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van België, 21, 1972, pp. 83–94. On the four artists’ houses, see Maclot, “Artists’ Houses in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”. 120 Maclot, The Status of Stone, p. 257. Maclot, “Artists’ Houses in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”. 121 See, for instance, the Antwerp painter Léonard Thiry, who returned to Antwerp and died there c. 1550. Nicole Dacos, “Léonard Thiry de Belges, peintre excellent. De Bruxelles à Fontainebleau en passant par Rome”, in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1996, May-June, no. 127, pp. 199–212; July-August, no. 128, pp. 23–36.

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communication channel. In its turn, the Antwerp ornament, commonly called Mannerist today, spread across Europe in print form.122 The published accounts of the Triumphal Entry of Charles V and Philip of Spain into Antwerp in 1549, which we discussed earlier, not only show the decisive influence of the Serlio translations in their systematic juxtaposition of text and woodcut on facing pages and in their manner of rendering architecture in plan and (perspective) elevation, but also offer a highly decorated, new take on Serlian architecture. Together they in fact compose a manual of Antwerp Mannerism, even before the immensely influential main model of the style was built: the Antwerp town hall (1561–1565). When the wealthy town official Willem de Moelnere reshaped his residence De Grooten Sot, the fabulous chimneypieces – the most splendid of which survives in the mayor’s office in the town hall – and the wooden loggia dated 1549 with its satyr supports showcase the new ornamental vocabulary.123 In 1547 the Italian banker Gaspare Ducci had his town house embellished with a long Tuscan gallery with elaborately carved keystones, a U-shaped staircase, and ornate interiors, all in the new refined, internationally flavoured style, hidden behind a more traditional façade.124 By 1554 the Spanish merchant Fernando de Bernuy had translated an important tradition into this idiom by erecting his Mannerist version of a house tower at the Grooten Robyn.125 It could count on a broader, favourable reception beyond the élite too, as shown by the rather crudely designed and executed beam decorations of merchants’ houses like the Hert, dated 1548, and wall paintings such as those of the Grooten Moriaen and the Sterre.126 The prestige projects of the 1560s, the town hall first and foremost, had stylistically speaking an even broader impact abroad, primarily through the agency of Hans Vredeman de Vries, the carpenter’s trainee from Kollum, Frisia, who had reinvented himself as a painter and print designer in Antwerp in the

122 See, for instance, the work of Cornelis Bos. Schéle, Cornelis Bos. A Study of the Origins of the Netherland Grotesque. 123 Sint-Jacobsmarkt 11. Bouwen door de eeuwen heen, 3nb, ed. Van Aerschot, p. 463; Petra Maclot, “Loggia van het huis ‘De Moelnere-Van Dale’ te Antwerpen”, in Stad in Vlaanderen. Cultuur en maatschappij 1477–1787, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Brussels, 1991, pp. 418–9; Linda Van Langendonck, “Loggia van het huis ‘den Grooten Sot’ te Antwerpen”, in Antwerpen, verhaal van een metropool, pp. 246–8. Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 201–4. 124 Huis van de Werve, Huidevettersstraat, demolished. Grieten & Maclot, “Het Renaissance-Interieur van Palazzo Ducci”. 125 Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 192–4. Korte Sint-Annastraat 4; usually wrongly dated 1565 because thought to have been added by the famous next owner, Mayor Anton Van Straelen, for example in: Bouwen door de eeuwen heen, 3nb, ed. Van Aerschot, pp. 466–8. 126 At the Hoornstraat 13/Lansstraat; Lange Brilstraat 4–6; and Stadswaag 20, respectively. Petra Maclot, “De decoratieve afwerking der wanden in het Antwerpse burgerhuis omstreeks 1585”, in Rijke Vorm & Bonte Kleur in ’t Antwerps Burgerinterieur omstreeks 1585, eds. Petra Maclot & Eugène Warmenbol, Antwerp, 1985, pp. 31–40; Petra Maclot, “De decoratieve plafondafwerking in het Antwerpse burgerhuis omstreeks 1585”, in Rijke vorm & bonte kleur in ’t Antwerps burgerinterieur omstreeks 1585, eds. Petra Maclot & Eugène Warmenbol, Antwerp, 1985, pp. 65–78; Petra Maclot, “Innenraum-Bemalungen in den Bürgerhäusern von Antwerpen”, in Jahrbuch für Hausforschung, 44, 1998, Hausbau in Belgien, pp. 55–64.

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early 1550s.127 The specific combination of the Antwerp façade of superimposed column orders surmounted by a richly decorated gable became a powerful reference point for many new town halls in the North and South during the decades that followed: the extension of the Ghent town hall, first planned in 1572; Emden (1579), Danzig (1585), Leiden (1593), Vlissingen (1595), Tournai (1610), Veurne (1612), Valenciennes (1612), and even Halle, which otherwise lacks the sumptuous Antwerp ornament (1615). Antwerp exported more than architectural ornament on paper, however. By the late 1560s, Antwerp building masters and artisans of every branch of the construction field were in demand abroad, rich patrons sometimes using package deals involving whole teams. In a sweeping statement, Guicciardini describes the phenomenon as follows: “And furthermore from here [Antwerp] master artists have spread out all over England and Germany, and especially in Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Poland, and other northern countries, going as far as Moscow, without mentioning those who went to France, Spain, and Portugal, most of them enticed there by rich rewards of princes, republics, and other potentates, which is no less wonderful than it is honourable”.128 One famous example of straightforward export is mentioned by Guicciardini himself.129 The Royal Exchange of London, built between 1566 and 1569 at the initiative of Sir Thomas Gresham, was built by a team of masons and carpenters led by “Hendrick Fleming”, alias Hendrik van Paesschen, who had played an important role in solving the technical problems of Antwerp’s town hall. Gresham knew the Antwerp Exchange, modernised here with the latest Mannerist ornament in the Antwerp manner, quite well, as he had served the English Crown as financial agent in Antwerp from 1552 until 1567. He also imported brick, slate, stone columns, and other stone components, ironwork, wainscoting, and even the statue of the

127 Krista De Jonge, “Vredeman de Vries as a Disseminator of Architectural Novelties”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries und die Folgen, eds. Heiner Borggrefe & Vera Lüpkes, Marburg, 2005, pp. 83–90; Ottenheym & De Jonge, “Civic Prestige. Building the City 1580–1700”, pp. 226–9. In general, Tussen stadspaleizen en luchtkastelen. Hans Vredeman de Vries en de Renaissance, eds. Heiner Borggrefe, Thomas Fusenig, & Barbara Uppenkamp Antwerp, 2002; Hans Vredeman de Vries und die Folgen, eds. Heiner Borggrefe & Vera Lüpkes, Marburg, 2005. English case-study in Anthony Wells-Cole, Art and Decoration in Elizabethan and Jacobean England. The Influence of Continental Prints, 1558–1625, New Haven and London, 1997. 128 Lodovico Guicciardini, Descrittione… dit tutti i Paesi Bassi, altrimenti detti Germania inferiore, Antwerp: Guilelmus Silvius, 1567, p. 101. In particular, Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann, “Die Kunstmetropole Antwerpen und ihr Einfluß auf Europa und die Welt”, in Hans Vredeman de Vries und die Renaissance im Norden, eds. Heiner Borggrefe, Thomas Fusenig, & Barbara Uppenkamp, Lemgo, 2002, pp. 41–50; Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann, “Ways of Transfer of Netherlandish Art”, in Netherlandish Artists in Gdańsk in the Time of Hans Vredeman de Vries, Material from the Conference Organized by the Museum of the History of the City of Gdańsk/Muzeum Historyczne Miasta Gdańska and the Weserrrenaissance-Museum Schloβ Brake Lemgo, Main City Town Hall, Gdańsk 20–21 November 2003, eds Małgorzata Ruszkowska-Macur et al., Gdańsk, and Lemgo 2006, pp. 13–22; The Low Countries at the Crossroads. Netherlandish Architecture as an Export Product in Early Modern Europe (1480–1680), eds Konrad Ottenheym and Krista De Jonge Turnhout, 2013. 129 Guicciardini, Description 1582, p. 109.

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Virgin above the entrance from the Low Countries.130 The emblematic architecture of the late sixteenth-century Danish Renaissance originated in a similar situation.131 King Frederik II, but also the upper strata of Danish society – such as Herluf Trolle and Birgitte Goye – indeed had impeccable connections with the Antwerp milieu, as shown by the history of the tombs they ordered in the 1550s and 1560s from the sculptor Cornelis Floris.132 Antwerp builders (or builders of Antwerp descent) could be found on the royal building sites of Frederiksborg (from 1560), Kronborg (from 1574), and under Christian IV at Rosenborg (from 1606/7). At Kronborg, the choice of Hans van Paesschen as master mason by Frederik II in 1574 may be explained by referring to Hendrik van Paesschen, possibly a relative; Hans came to Denmark as a military engineer in 1564. At the time, Antwerp’s bastioned fortifications were amongst the most modern in Northern Europe; engineer Anthonis van Obbergen’s study trip of 1577–1578, which made him return to Antwerp after a long absence at the behest of the Danish King, is also readily explained by the fact that by that time they had been augmented by one of the most modern citadels, designed by Francesco Paciotto (1567). To a princely patron, military competence obviously counted for as much as familiarity with the latest ornament in the antique manner; efficiency and a talent for organisation must have been equally prized, a fact which explains the success of builders such as the Van Paesschen or indeed Peter Frans, rivalling that of a sculptor such as Cornelis Floris, who had been to Italy. 9.6. Before and After the Fall: Resilience and Regeneration The Golden Age of architecture and urbanism in Antwerp is commonly seen to end with the revolt against the Spanish Habsburg government, particularly after the people of Antwerp, assisted by Calvinists, captured and partially dismantled the citadel in August 1577. Even though the constant threat of war limited possibilities for new construction projects under the Calvinist regime,133 new opportunities arose through a shift in the magistrate’s attitude regarding 130 John F. Murray, Vlaanderen en Engeland. De invloed van de Lage Landen op Engeland ten tijde van de Tudors en de Stuarts, Antwerp, 1985, p. 298; Jean Imray, “The Origins of the Royal Exchange”, in The Royal Exchange, ed. Ann Saunders, London, 1997, pp. 20–35; Ann Saunders, “The Building of the Exchange”, in The Royal Exchange, ed. Ann Saunders, London, 1997, pp. 36–49. 131 Dirk Frederik Slothouwer, Bouwkunst der Nederlandsche Renaissance in Denemarken, Amsterdam, 1924; Krista De Jonge, “A Netherlandish Model? Reframing the Danish Royal Residences in a European Perspective”, in Reframing the Danish Renaissance. Problems & Prospects in a European Perspective, eds. Michael Andersen, Birgitte Bøggild Johannsen, & Hugo Johannsen, Copenhagen, 2012, pp. 219–33. 132 Antoinette Huysmans, “De Sculptuur”, in Antoinette Huysmans, Jan Van Damme, Carl Van de Velde, & Christine Van Mulders, Cornelis Floris 1514–1575 beeldhouwer architect ontwerper, Brussels, 1996, pp. 71–113, in particular pp. 81–83, 86–92, 103. 133 On its prologue, see Guido Marnef, Antwerp in the Age of Reformation. Underground Protestantism in a Commercial Metropolis 1550–1577, Baltimore, 1996; also Guido Marnef, “The changing face of Calvinism in Antwerp, 1555–1585”, in Calvinism in Europe, 1540–1620, eds Andrew Pettegree et al., Cambridge, 1994, pp. 143–59.

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the relationship between architecture and public space. The massive land and building speculation characteristic of the building boom during the Golden Age was replaced by a new approach in which the use of land was increasingly regulated by policy, and of which architecture became an integral part. As part of the thorough review of Antwerp’s infrastructure, a new roads policy was adopted which would create a better connection between different parts of the city and divide larger building areas into smaller entities; this was subsequently applied rather drastically to the sprawling monastery domains. In this sense, Antwerp functioned as a laboratory, where a modern vision of the city became operative, at odds with the relatively traditional view that prevailed during most of the sixteenth century. Years later, the results were elaborated more theoretically by Simon Stevin in his treatise Vande Oirdening der Stede (On Urban planning, 1649).134 One remarkable feature of Stevin’s treatise is that it considers the building block as a new entity in urban planning; a practice which had emerged in Antwerp’s renewed urban planning process many years earlier. Urban regeneration started with a highly symbolic and radical act, prophetic for the decades to come. On 20 March 1577, the States Party reached an agreement with the Spanish commander, Don Juan of Austria, regarding the departure of the Spanish troops from the citadel, and several months later, the German mercenaries were expelled from the city as well. Immediately thereafter, the partial demolition of the citadel was undertaken. As hinted at by Guicciardini, the citadel symbolically represented the oppression by the Duke of Ala; from there, the Spanish garrison had invaded the town on 4 November 1576, wreaking widespread death and destruction. The dismantling of the citadel proclaimed that the city had regained its freedom and could join the ranks of the other towns participating in the Revolt, at least in political terms, as reflected in two of Jacques De Gheyn’s allegorical prints. Much like the citadel of Ghent, which was demolished on the city side in November 1576, the Antwerp citadel would now become a constituent part of the fortification wall around the city, its inner area being absorbed into the town. Garrisons would no longer be stationed on the site, and as a highly political statement the heavily damaged governor’s mansion would be converted into the paleys (palace) of William of Orange. In 1581 Vredeman de Vries was commissioned to carry out the transformation of the building with a central courtyard and an ornamental garden in a formal style.135 Antwerp showed great resilience in the rebuilding of its dwellings from 1576 until c. 1582. The highly efficient, innovative, and rationalised system of building 134 Charles van den Heuvel, ‘De Huysbou’. A Reconstruction of an Unfinished Treatise on Architecture, Town Planning and Civil Engineering by Simon Stevin (History of Science and Scholarship in the Netherlands, 7), Amsterdam, 2005; J. W. (Wim) Nijenhuis, “Stevin’s Grid City and the Maurice Conspiracy”, in Early Modern Urbanism and the Grid, eds. Piet Lombaerde & Charles van den Heuvel, Turnhout, 2011, pp. 45–62. 135 According to a preserved account dated 29 April 1581, a sum of 12 guilders was paid to “Janne de Vriese” for the restoration of a model of the house and the palace of William of Orange. Frans Blockmans, “Een krijgstekening, een muurschildering en een schilderij van Hans Vredeman de Vries te Antwerpen (1577–1586)”, in Antwerpen. Tijdschrift der Stad Antwerpen, 8, 1962, pp. 20–42.

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in the 1560s, for which Antwerp building crews were famed throughout Northern Europe, offered an excellent basis for the reconstruction of the areas which had been destroyed by fire during the Spanish Fury, amongst others around the town hall. A good example of this earlier urban design may actually be found in the new block called the ‘cube’ (teerlinck), erected in 1565 on the site of the former, mediaeval Antwerp town hall, situated off to the side of the new one.136 It comprised eighteen merchants’ houses of seven standard designs organised in a grid, so as to generate the maximum useful space, lighting, and utilities. The building block was meant to look like a single, large, uniform yet gabled building, with a row of similar arcades (for shops) on the ground floor, mirroring the neighbouring new Town Hall, albeit on a reduced scale. The drawing of one façade (called Rekencamere or audit chamber), which must have served as the prototype, shows a division in three equal vertical sections, i.e. an arcaded ground floor with a mezzanine, and two large floors topped by a stepped gable with threelight and high finials above. In the property transaction, the town prescribed the use of specific materials: blue limestone for the ground floor, white sandy limestone for the upper floors and gable. A slightly embellished version of the ‘cube’ with characteristic Antwerp strap work and grotesque ornament displayed on the gables and dormers – a fashion which can be observed from the early 1560s in houses such as the eleven merchants’ houses built c. 1564 in the Pruynenstraat137 – appears in a contemporary, idealised cityscape by Hans Vredeman de Vries, which has the Antwerp town hall as its centrepiece.138 The new ornament would also come fully into its own during the reconstruction. Rebuilt gables and shop-fronts in the vicinity of the town hall show typical features such as ‘carrots’, an ornament invented by Vredeman de Vries, or even a frieze with mascarons.139 Not only did the house typology mostly remain the same after 1576 but also its decoration. From the 1540s interiors had shown mural paintings of a colourful and often grandiose, monumental architectural design, even in the narrowest of houses, which the trompe-l’œil scenery transformed into small palaces; some of these were executed by the best artists of the period.140 Ceilings were decorated with rather garish, elaborately ornamented motifs,

136 The contract provides for the realisation of these “achtien nyeuwe huysen terstont vuyt eenen hant te makene de vuerghevels, onder van blauwen ende boven van witten steene” in 1565; interest was taken on them in the very same year. SAA, PK#2195: Oudt Stadthuys, los stuk; SAA, 12#5048 and SAA, 12#4783. Case-study developed in Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 130–31. 137 Case-study developed in Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 127–28. 138 Fuhring, Hollstein’s Dutch & Flemish Etchings, 47, pp. 162–3, cat. no. 182. 139 Examples may be found in the Kaasstraat 11–13 (‘t Steenken, 1579), in Hoogstraat 3 (Crieckboom) and 13 (Paradys), and Zirkstraat 2 / Vleeshouwersstraat (Gulden Cruys, ‘1577’). Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 240–53. 140 Mural paintings of high quality are still demolished every day, undiscovered or undocumented, not being regarded as worthy sources in the search on Antwerp Renaissance history. A surviving example, formerly exhibited in the Museum Vleeshuis, comes from the demolished house Croone, Sudermanstraat 10. Petra Maclot, Van parkingdecor tot museumstuk. Het verhaal van de renaissance muurschildering van het voormalig pand Croone in de Sudermanstraat te Antwerpen, Antwerp, 1987; De Clercq & Maclot, “Zorg en Zin voor Kleur”; Maclot, “Innenraum-Bemalungen”.

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painted even on specially printed paper, which gave these simple interior spaces a lively and bright atmosphere.141 Other interior furnishings, such as vaulted chimney hoods, elaborately sculpted sole-plates and brackets supporting beamed ceilings, doors, and draught screens lent splendour to the best interiors, but have rarely survived in situ.142 In this context the Rechten ende Costumen van Antwerpen (Rights and Customs of Antwerp), issued for the first time in 1582 at Christopher Plantin’s, can be seen as a first in the Low Countries.143 The Customs listed construction requirements, most of which dated back to the Middle Ages, such as problems of light and access to sunlight, views, and property boundaries.144 Antwerp became a leader by having this common law printed in order to make it available to all inhabitants. It later became a model for other cities, including Amsterdam and Roermond, where similar editions were brought onto the market in 1612 and 1620 respectively. The most significant part of the urban renewal programme was clearly the ‘street policy’ introduced by the Calvinist council and promoted primarily by the council of eight ‘colonels’, who had been appointed in February 1578 on the recommendation of William of Orange.145 These were prominent merchants who had organised the city’s defences, but who also interfered with the city’s construction policies. Beginning in 1579, they would introduce an extreme regime to expropriate and parcel out the monastery grounds in the city, particularly those of the contemplative orders. These allotments were to serve the “ornament, profit, and community” (cierraet, profijt en commiteit) of the city and its

141 Petra Maclot, “De polychrome afwerking van het renaissance burgerhuis in Antwerpen”, in Vlaanderen, 38, 1980, no. 227, pp. 254–6; Petra Maclot, “Sierpapier. Decoratieprenten als balkbehang in 16de-eeuwse interieurs in Antwerpen”, in Tijdschrift voor Interieurgeschiedenis en Design, 41, 2019, pp. 1–24. 142 The polychromy of sole-plates, brackets, decorative ceiling paper and the like, has usually been lost. Maclot, “De decoratieve plafondafwerking in het Antwerpse burgerhuis omstreeks 1585”. Most chimneypieces and hoods have been demolished, with only a few moved from their original site, in some cases to museums abroad such as the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, the Musée de la Renaissance at Écouen, and the Steen, former Museum of Antiquities in Antwerp. Petra Maclot, “Haard en kachel als decoratief volume in het Antwerpse burgerinterieur omstreeks 1585”, in Rijke Vorm & Bonte Kleur in ’t Antwerps Burgerinterieur omstreeks 1585, eds Petra Maclot & Eugène Warmenbol Antwerp, 1985, pp. 17–30. The doors known to have been produced by Otmar van Ommen for several houses in 1588 have not been conserved (according to Jan Van Damme, “Timmer- en schrijnwerk in het 16de-eeuwse Antwerpse Burgerhuis”, in Rijke Vorm, pp. 49–52, especially p. 52. See Maclot, The Status of Stone, pp. 308–9 and Maclot, “Artists’ Houses in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”. 143 Tijs, Crowning the City; Lombaerde, “Antwerp in its Golden Age”, pp. 126–7; Ottenheym & De Jonge, “Civic Prestige. Building the City 1580–1700”, pp. 242–3. 144 See in particular the chapter Van Erf-scheydinge, Servituten ende des daer aen cleeft. 145 Piet Lombaerde, “Antwerp Architecture and Urbanism from the Calvinist Period until the Twelve Years’ Truce (1577–1609)”, in Rekonstruktion der Gesellschaft aus Kunst. Antwerpener Malerei und Graphik in und nach den Katastrophen des späten 16. Jahrhunderts, ed. Eckhard Leuschner, Petersberg, 2016, pp. 70–9.

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inhabitants.146 The terms used to justify these drastic interventions were clearly copied from the writings of Vitruvius and Alberti, albeit not without clerical errors. The triple notion of utilitas, commoditas, and voluptas or venustas presented the creation of new streets through the monastery grounds in a threefold light. First of all, these measures were meant to beautify the city; the newly built houses along the new alignments would create a more attractive streetscape. It must be noted, however, that the city magistrate took no initiative in the building of new Protestant churches, contrary to what would later happen in Amsterdam. Congregations met in temporary structures instead.147 Secondly, the allotments created along these streets would produce capital gain, the sale of the confiscated plots benefiting the city’s finances; in addition, materials from the dismantled churches (e.g. marble, brick, and wood) could be sold and re-used, primarily for new military constructions. Lastly, the new streets would reduce the size of excessively large construction blocks, while promoting optimal accessibility between the various buildings in the city. The many new homes that could be built would meet the demand for housing in the densely populated city (Fig. 9.8). On 27 July 1581 the sworn erfscheiders (city officials who ruled on property boundaries) of the city of Antwerp were summoned to begin the demarcation of the necessary lots to build new roads “that must run directly through the monasteries”. Colonel and merchant Jaspar van Uffelen played a particularly prominent role in these proceedings, his name appearing on a whole series of design drawings. For instance, a new street would run across the grounds of the Beggar’s Monastery (Beggaardenklooster), to create a more direct connection between the New Exchange and the old town centre.148 Similarly, the convent of the Poor Clares (Arme Claeren) near the north end of the Meir would be divided into two halves by a new street, not only permitting new construction but also adding a new access to the southern side of the New Exchange. As for the Franciscan Monastery (Minderbroedersklooster), located in one of the largest blocks in the city, two new perpendicular streets would cross this area, connecting the Minderbroedersstraat directly to the Venusstraat, and the Blindestraat with the Stadswaag. A long street would bisect the site of the Monastery of Our Lady, running parallel to the Meir. In this case as well, larger construction 146 Piet Lombaerde, “Continuïteit, vernieuwingen en verschillen. Het concept van de stad in de Noordelijke en Zuidelijke Nederlanden rond 1600”, in Bulletin van de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond, 98, 1999, no. 5–6, pp. 237–48. 147 On their earliest predecessors, see Joris Snaet, “De eerste protestantse tempels in de Nederlanden. Een onderzoek naar vorm en perceptie”, in Bulletin van de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond, 98, 1999, no. 1, pp. 45–58; Joris Snaet, “For the Greater Glory of God: Religious Architecture in the Low Countries 1560–1700”, in Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relations between the Southern and the Northern Low Countries 1530–1700, eds Krista De Jonge & Konrad Ottenheym, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 251–98, in particular pp. 251–4. 148 This paragraph is based on Jochen De Vylder, “The Grid and the Existing City. Or How New Civic Buildings and Interventions on Confiscated Grounds Transformed the Medieval City in Early Modern Times: a Focus on Antwerp (1531–84)”, in Early Modern Urbanism and the Grid, eds Piet Lombaerde & Charles van den Heuvel, Turnhout, 2011, pp. 77–94.

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Figure 9.8. Anonymous. Project for two new streets to be developed between the Zilversmidstraat and the Oude Beurs in the center of the city of Antwerp, c. 1580, Felixarchief Antwerp, 23/003.

blocks would be divided into smaller allotments. The site of the Dominican monastery (Predikherenklooster) would also be intersected by two streets. This plan was obviously motivated by various factors: the subdivision of the enormous terrain, the creation of a more regular distribution of construction blocks, the conversion of many new areas into building lots and the creation of a smooth connection between Minderbroedersrui and Koolvliet. In addition, other new streets were built throughout Antwerp, some in connection with the relocation of the Braderijstraat. The old street would be replaced by two new ones; considering the extensive damage wrought by the Spanish Fury, a new housing development was considered useful within the context of reconstructing this neighbourhood. No plan tying these apparently sporadic interventions together in one coherent programme having hitherto come to light, it seems that Calvinist street policy consisted of relatively limited, technical interventions intended to organise the ancient city within its walls in the most efficient way possible; the chief objectives were to create an efficient network of interconnected streets and better access to important buildings such as the Exchange, and to increase the number of buildable lots in the city. These interventions, however, were not limited to the inner core of the city. Another part of the planning policy indeed involved the expansion of the city. Little is known about the relatively complex project that was intended to redesign the entire southern side of the city of Antwerp: the Southern New Town (Nieuwe Suytstadt), an urban extension south of the existing city but still

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Figure 9.9. Peter Frans, parcellation plan of the terre-plein of the Antwerp citadel, Felixarchief Antwerp, 12#10781.

contained within the walls of the demilitarised glacis of the partially demolished citadel. Several designs were proposed for these wastelands, starting from the pentagonal shape of the former citadel. Peter Frans was apparently responsible for several projects in this area, as shown by the surviving inventory of his drawings, which included a map of the citadel (Fig. 9.9).149 As he is styled “surveyor to the

149 SAA, PK#2228 fol. 26. One item is listed as “The map of the pentagon of the Antwerp Castle’s five curtain walls, delineated and measured by master Peter Frans, surveyor for the City of Antwerp” (“Den platte grond van de vijfhoek van vijve gordijnen vande casteel van Antwerpen afgetekend en gemeten door meester Peter Frans erfscheider deser stadt van Antweerpen”). See Piet Lombaerde,

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city of Antwerp”, he must still have been in municipal service under Calvinist rule, and probably continued to be so until his death in 1584 when Adriaen Bos succeeded him. Plans were made to build a new market or public square in the centre of the area, from which a wide street would form a connection to the old town; both rectangular and polygonal designs were proposed for the square.150 Similar planning problems can be encountered in contemporary treatises from Pietro Cataneo (1554) to Daniel Specklin (1589), such as how to arrange a polygonal square conforming with the polygonal layout of a city; it does not seem accidental that in the very same period the engineer and geographer Hans van Schille published a model book on bastioned fortifications of cities, with proposals for the optimal adaptation of the urban pattern of streets and squares to the polygonal shape of the new ramparts.151 Hans van Schille was indeed involved in the reconversion of the citadel, together with Abraham Andriessens and Hans Vredeman de Vries.152 A surviving project drawing represents a new urban extension in the grounds of the former glacis of the citadel, which must have been partially executed.153 A print dated 1584 clearly shows that the Nieuwe Suytstadt was in full development at the end of the Calvinist regime.154 Streets had already been laid out, and the first buildings were emerging. In part, this plan is a combination of radial lines and a checkerboard pattern, mainly designed to create convenient connections between existing streets, the city gates, and the new square in the citadel. The work on the connection (joincte) between the citadel and the quays was led by Hans Vredeman de Vries, who was also involved in the construction of the new fortifications along the river Scheldt.155 In 1583, the first outwork in front of the enceinte was built, a ravelin for the Beguines’ gate (Begijnenpoort) in the joincte. Rows of trees were planted on the ramparts. There were even plans for a second rampart around the city. Not surprisingly, after the surrender of Antwerp to Alexander Farnese and Spanish Habsburg rule in 1585, one of the first building projects to be implemented was the restoration of the citadel to its original pentagonal form and

“Antwerp as a Laboratory for Architecture and Urban Planning (sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries)”, in Nothing will come of Nothing. Science & Education in Antwerp since 1500, ed. Helma De Smedt, Antwerp, 2019, pp. 247–67, especially pp. 251–4. 150 SAA, 12#10779 and 10780. 151 Hans Van Schille, Form und weis zu bauwen… allerley wehrliche vestung Schlosser Burgen und Stedt… Manière, de bien bastir edifier, fortifier, & munir Chasteaux, forteresses, villes & autres Places, Antwerp: Gerard de Iode, 1573, 1578 and 1580, 61 plates; a reduced set of 15 plates, similarly based on Francesco de’ Marchi, with the same title in German on the front page, had appeared anonymously at the same printer’s in 1573. See Piet Lombaerde, “An Academy, University College or University for Young Men wishing to become proficient in Fortification”, in Nothing will come of Nothing, pp. 269–87, especially pp. 280–2. 152 Heuvel, “Cutting and Pasting Fortifications”; Piet Lombaerde & Charles van den Heuvel, “Vredeman de Vries und die technischen Künste”, in Hans Vredeman pp. 116–24. 153 SAA, 12#10783 and 10784. 154 Piet Lombaerde, “Een onbekende gravure van de Antwerpse versterkingen in 1584 onlangs aan het licht gekomen”, in Caert Thresoor. Tijdschrift voor de Geschiedenis van de Cartografie, 25, 2006, no. 4, pp. 124–9. 155 SAA, 12#10825.

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the demolition of the ravelin on the joincte. Interestingly, the street design was adopted here and there, albeit on a limited scale. On the whole, however, the old situation was maintained or restored. This meant that the new city magistrates took an equally active role as their Calvinist predecessors in organising public space, signifying the definitive end of the traditional approach to urban planning. One example involves the refurbishment of the monastery and abbey sites in the city and, in one case, even the reorganisation of construction blocks and the redesign of the street arrangement as part of the implantation of the new Jesuit College and church.156 The introduction of the Counter Reformation in Antwerp157 thus further strengthened the religious hold on Antwerp’s public architecture, although this did not start properly until the Twelve Years’ Truce (1609–1621). With the population of Antwerp in steady decline, partly due to economic recession and to the obligation to convert to the Catholic faith within five years, there would be no further significant development in civil architecture locally; a state of affairs that would continue throughout the entire seventeenth century. But the diaspora caused by the fall of the city in 1585 would increase its architectural and urban influence throughout Northern Europe, far beyond the confines of the Catholic sphere.

156 Innovation and Experience in the Early Baroque in the Southern Netherlands. The Case of the Jesuit Church in Antwerp, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Turnhout, 2008; Ria Fabri and Piet Lombaerde, Rubens. The Jesuit Church of Antwerp, London and Turnhout, 2018, pp. 38–49. 157 Marie-Juliette Marinus, De contrareformatie te Antwerpen (1585–1676), Kerkelijk leven in een grootstad, Brussels, 1995.

Jelle De Rock*  

The City Portrayed Patterns of Continuity and Change in the Antwerp Renaissance City View 10.1. Introduction With its delightful setting on the river Scheldt, the splendid panoramic view on the busy wharfs on its right bank, and the iconic spire of the cathedral – virtually at the midpoint of its skyline –, the city of Antwerp boasts a high level of ‘imageability’.1 Since the late fifteenth century the harbour city has innumerable times been immortalised in wooden carved, painted, and printed images.2 Sixteenth-century Europe massively embraced the pictorial representation of its cities. Much like the portrait of human figures, the image of the city gained both autonomy and individuality.3 The emancipation of urban images from the background of religious altarpieces, the growing sense of what sets a particular city apart from others and the adaptation of classical measuring techniques prompted many researchers to label the blossoming of autonomous and recognisable city views as a typical ‘renaissance’ phenomenon. Cesare De Seta, one of the pioneers of modern research on Italian urban iconography, discerns an important shift in the representation of cities towards the end of the fifteenth century. For the first time since Antiquity, he argues, Ptolemy (geography) was given precedence over Herodotus (historiography).4 However, this ‘cartographic

* This publication was made possible by the IAP Program phase VII/26 ‘City and Society in the Low Countries (ca. 1200–ca. 1850). The condition urbaine: between resilience and vulnerability’ (Belgian Science Policy). I want to thank Bart Cosyns for correcting this text. 1 The term ‘imageability’ is coined by the American urban planner Kevin Lynch and refers to ‘the quality of a physical object, which gives an observer a strong, vivid image’ (Kevin Lynch, The image of the city, Cambridge, 1960). 2 The most important studies on the rich urban iconography of Antwerp are: Adrien J. Delen, Iconographie van Antwerpen, Brussel, 1930; Arthur J. H. Cornette, Iconographie van Antwerpen: 174 oude stadsgezichten en plattegronden historisch toegelicht, Antwerpen, 1933; Guido De Brabander, Na-kaarten over Antwerpen, Brugge, 1988; Rutger Tijs, Antwerpen. Historisch portret van een stad, Tielt, 2001. 3 This comparison with human portraits was made by Jan Grieten & Paul Huvenne, “Antwerp portayed”, in Antwerp, story of a metropolis. 16th-17th century, ed. Jan van der Stock, Gent, 1993, pp. 69–77. See also: Jessica Maier, “A ‘true likeness’: the renaissance city portrait”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 65:3, 2012, pp. 711–52. Other studies on the rich urban iconography of Antwerp are: Adrien J. Delen, Iconographie van Antwerpen, Brussel, 1930; Arthur J. H. Cornette, Iconographie van Antwerpen: 174 oude stadsgezichten en plattegronden historisch toegelicht, Antwerpen, 1933. 4 Cesare De Seta, “Eine Deutscher Städteikonographie in Europäischer Perspektive”, in Das Bild der Stadt in der Neuzeit (1400–1800), eds Wolfgang Behringher & Bernd Roeck, München, 1999, p. 11. See also Naomi Miller, Mapping the city: the language and culture of cartography in the Renaissance, Jelle De Rock • University of Antwerp & Ghent University Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 237–262.

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turn’ has recently been seriously nuanced and the widespread assumption that early modern ‘chorographies’ express a novel way of perceiving and envisaging urban space has been questioned by an increasing number of scholars.5 In fact, the advancement of urban iconography through history seems to have been a gradual process with different speeds, varying according to the medium, audience, and purpose of the pictorial town views. By using the Antwerp urban iconography as the cue, this essay aims to discuss the development and continuity of various ‘representational modes’ or types of city views throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Although the described evolution observes a certain chronology, it by no means constituted a linear development of conflicting ways of representing the city. On the contrary, a variety of complementary representational styles was created to meet diverse purposes. Consequently, this essay aims at a better understanding of the local and regional historical context and the function, audience, and patronage of the early modern Antwerp city view. As Peter Burke pin-pointed the ‘heterogenetic’ character of the renaissance metropolis as a place that both abandons and reinvents traditions, generating new ‘states of mind’, a very pertinent question is raised in this essay: to what extent did Antwerp play a key role in the creation, reception, and dissemination of both iconographic traditions and new manners of representing the city?6 10.2. The Emancipation of the Urban Image: Between Novelty and Tradition At the close of the middle ages Antwerp already boasted a relatively strong tradition of urban iconography. The first more or less ‘realistic’ image of the town appeared in 1468 on a map of the river Scheldt, created to settle fiscal conflicts between the city of Antwerp and the count of Flanders.7 Around 1500 the image of the busy wharves with their iconic crane becomes a recurrent theme in several panel paintings, book illuminations, and even a wood-carved altarpiece.8 London – New York, 2003. In the Antiquity several advanced city views and maps were produced: J. G. Links, Townscape painting and drawing, London, 1972, pp. 6–8. 5 For the most recent challenging of this ‘orthodoxy’ in the field of historical geography, see: Keith Lilley & Chris Lloyd, “Cartographic veracity in medieval mapping: analyzing geographical variation in the Gough Map of Great Britain”, in Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 99:1, 2009, pp. 27–48; Keith Lilley, “Geography’s medieval history: a forgotten enterprise?”, in Dialogues in Human Geography, 1:2, 2011, pp. 147–62. 6 Peter Burke, Antwerp: a metropolis in comparative perspective, Gent, 1993, p. 12; Peter Burke, “The historical geography of the Renaissance”, in A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford, 2007, pp. 88–103, esp. pp. 90–91. 7 Willem S. Unger, “De oudste kaarten der waterwegen tussen Brabant, Vlaanderen en Zeeland”, in Tijdschrift van het Koninklijk Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, 67, 1950, pp. 146–64. 8 The most important works are: Anonymous, The multiplication of loaves and fishes, c. 1490, Westfalisches Landesmusuem, Münster; The Master of the Morrisson Triptych, The adoration of the Magi, c. 1504, Museum of Art, Philadelphia; Goswin van der Weyden, Saint-Dymphna Altarpiece, c. 1505, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp (see: Tijs, Antwerpen. Historisch portret, pp. 11–12).

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Figure 10.1. Anonymous artist, Detail of Antwerp on a map of the Scheldt, ink on paper and linen, 1468. State Archives in Belgium, Brussel.

These first Antwerp city portraits are remarkable in two ways. First of all, their topographical accuracy is rather exceptional in late medieval Netherlandish painting, beside some idealised painted towerscapes of Bruges, two town views of Mechelen, and some views of Brussels.9 Moreover, the consistent depiction of Antwerp as a lively commercial space sets these townscapes even more apart from the majority of fifteenth-century Netherlandish city views, that on the contrary display a notable idealisation and ‘tranquilisation’ (Figs 10.1–3).10 The emphasis of the very first Antwerp town views on the logistic power of the city is revealing for the clear-cut mercantile mind-set of its commercial elites. More than in Bruges or any other Flemish or Brabantine city, where the aristocratic osmosis between mercantile and political/noble elites was relatively high, the Antwerp urban establishment presented the city as a ‘renowned merchant’s town’ (vermaerde coopstede). An Kint amply investigated how this trope circulated in many expression forms (processions, literary festivals, prognostications, iconography) in order to stabilise and harmonise the fast growing, heterogeneous city.11 Moreover, the early commercialisation of the Antwerp art market favoured

For a wood carved representation of the Antwerp wharf, see: Saint-Dympha Altarpiece, 1480–1500, Saint-Dymphna Church, Geel (Rita De Boodt, Vlaamse Retabels. Een internationale reis langs laatmiddeleeuws beeldsnijwerk, Leuven, 2007, pp. 190–92). 9 We refer to the oeuvre of the Master of the Legend of Saint Lucy and Saint Ursula (Bruges), the Master of the Guild of Saint George (Mechelen) and the Master of the View of Saint-Gudula (Brussels). Early German altarpieces on the contrary showed an abundance of recognizable town views. 10 For this idealization, see: Jelle De Rock, “The image of the city quantified: the serial analysis of pictorial representations of urbanity in early Netherlandish art (1420–1520)”, in Portraits of the City: An Interdisciplinary Approach to the Study of Representations of Urban Landscape, eds Jan Dumolyn & Katrien Lichtert, Maximiliaan Martens, Turnhout, 2014, pp. 67–82. 11 An Kint, “The ideology of commerce: Antwerp in the sixteenth century”, in International trade in the Low Countries (14th-16th centuries): merchants, organisation, infrastructure, eds Peter Stabel, Bruno Blondé & Anke Greve, Leuven, 2000, pp. 213–22; Herman Pleij, “Antwerp described”, in Antwerp, ed. Van der Stock, pp. 79–85.

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Figure 10.2. Master of the Morrison Triptych, Detail of the Antwerp skyline on the Morrison Triptych, oil on panel, c. 1504.,Philadelphia Museum of Art.

the creation of new ‘genres’ and motives.12 Many works of Joachim Patenir, Joos van Cleve, and the Antwerp Mannerists show a similar predilection for port towns and ‘cargo-carrying motives’,13 whereas new genres as market scenes and portraits of money-changers warned for the dangers of the market.14

12 By the middle of the sixteenth century the Antwerp art markets became permanent and completely secularized. A commercialization and professionalization was carried out on the level of production (standardization, direct production for an art seller), distribution (packaging and transport facilities, art galleries or panden) and consumption (ready-made products). See: Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the market. Commercialization of art in Antwerp’s Golden Age, Turnhout, 2003, p. 165. 13 Dan Ewing, “Magi and merchants: the force behind the Antwerp Mannerists’ Adoration pictures”, in KMSKA Jaarboek, 2006, pp. 275–300. Harbour views were relatively more common in Antwerp mannerist painting (De Rock, “The image of the city quantified”, graph 6). 14 Larry Silver, Peasant scenes and landscapes. The rise of pictorial genres in the Antwerp art market, Philadelphia, 2006; Elisabeth Honig, Painting and the Market in Early Modern Antwerp, New Haven – London, 1998. See also: Martha C. Howell, Commerce before capitalism in Europe, 1300–1600, Cambridge, 2010, pp. 272–73.

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Figure 10.3. Goswin van der Weyden, Detail from the scenes of the life of Saint Dymphna, oil on panel, 1503–1505, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp. © KIK-IRPA, Brussels.

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By the beginning of the sixteenth century, Antwerp had turned into a ‘heterogenetic’ centre par excellence. It comes as no surprise that the city played a key role in the emancipation of the pictorial city view in the Netherlands, even if this observation may have been distorted by the less favourable preservation of urban iconography in other cities.15 The first autonomous (artistic) town views in the Netherlands preferred the relatively new medium of printing.16 Already at the close of the fifteenth century Antwerp flourished as a major typographic centre.17 In 1515 the successful publisher Jan De Gheet issued the laudatory book Unio pro conservatione rei publice to celebrate the Joyous Entry of Charles V into Antwerp (Fig. 10.4). The printed book, of which only four copies are preserved, contains two motets that were composed by Benedictus de Opitiis in honour of the visit of Charles and his grandfather, emperor Maximilian, seven years earlier. It also features four fine images of the festive events and of the guest city. The latter constitutes one of the oldest preserved autonomous town views in the Netherlands, showing a somewhat squeezed representation of the city, containing individualised topographical elements, such as the unfinished Our Ladies Church, St Michael’s Abbey, and the wharf with the city crane. Shortly after De Gheet’s initiative, a much larger, more elaborate, and fully independent woodcut of the Antwerp skyline was conceived. Surtitled Antwerpia Mercatorum Emporium, the image once again highlights the primacy of trade that typified the Antwerp mentality (Fig. 10.5). The river is packed with commercial vessels, while high above the city Mercurius (god of trade) and Vertumnus (god of the seasons and fertility) keep an eye on the effervescent city.18 The two-metre-wide image seems to merge northern and southern iconographic traditions into one harmonious unity. The references to antique deities and maritime transport are closely affiliated with the breathtaking bird’s-eye view of Venice by Jacopo de’ Barbari (1500), whereas on the other hand, the profile view, the horizontal alignment of buildings, and the use of banderols were most likely indebted to the woodcuts that were made in 1486 by the Utrecht artist Erhard Reuwich in Bernard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinationes in terram sanctam (Figs 10.6–7). Both Barbari and Reuwich stayed in the Netherlands, but died either before or around 1515.19 Even if these highly

15 In the first half of the sixteenth century, the Bruges urban iconography has left remarkably few traces in the archives and museums, especially if one considers the importance of this city and its strong late medieval tradition of urban imaging. For an overview, see: Marc Ryckaert, Historische stedenatlas van België. Brugge, Brussel, 1991. 16 Without a doubt, older townscape drawings were made during the fifteenth century. These drawings did not have an artistic function, but probably functioned as administrative, juridical or hydrographic tools (for example: Ryckaert, Historische stedenatlas, pp. 36–37). 17 For the period 1500–1540 a total amount of 2254 different works were produced by 66 Antwerp printers. This is 55% of the total production of Low Countries (Leon Voet, “De typografische bedrijvigheid te Antwerpen in de 16e eeuw”, in Antwerpen in de xvide eeuw, Antwerpen, 1975, p. 235). 18 Van der Stock (ed.), Antwerp, cat. 9 & 10. 19 O. Buyssens, “Antverpia Mercatorum Emporium Actum 1515 (?). Wie schiep de grote houtsnede en andere gezichten op de rede van Antwerpen uit omstreeks die tijd?”, in Mededelingen van de Academie van Marine van België, 6, 1952, pp. 171–202; Jürgen Schulz, “‘Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of

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Figure 10.4. Anonymous artist, Salve Felix Andwerpia, woodcut in ‘Unio pro conservatione rei publice’ (ed. Jan de Gheet), Antwerp, 1515, University Library, Leuven, Inv. no. 2B 2529.

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Figure 10.5. Anonymous artist, Antwerpia Mercatorum Emporium (detail), woodcut, c. 1515–1518, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. 20839. Photo credit: Peter Maes.

Figure 10.6. Jacopo de’ Barbari, Perspective Plan of Venice, engraving, 1500, Museo Correr, Venice.

Figure 10.7. Erhard Reuwich, Detail of Venice, woodcut in Berhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinatio in terram sanctam, Mainz, 1486, Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels, Inv. No. INC B 225 f°13.

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mobile artists were not directly involved in its creation, the masterful View of the Roads of Antwerp bears witness to the privileged position of the city on the crossroads between Northern and Southern Europe.20 The Antwerp profile views from around 1515 herald the beginning of a rich tradition of chorographies in the Netherlands. The term ‘chorography’ – literally ‘the description of places’ – has been defined by Ptolemy (third century bc) as one of the three methods for the scientific study of the natural world (besides cosmography and geography). Reassessed in the fifteenth century, the art of chorography can be considered as a true Renaissance phenomenon.21 Notwithstanding its affiliation with geography and cartography, the iconographic description of towns remained highly pictorial. The pictorial language and composition of the first Antwerp chorographies (a profile view from the West) did not essentially differ from late medieval panel painting, where a fundamental shift towards a more ‘realistic’ depiction of the city had already occurred at the beginning of the fifteenth century.22 In brief, the iconography of the first generation chorographies shows a rather high degree of continuity with the late medieval town views. What did alter, however, was the medium, the function, and the message. First of all, the city views became the subject of a secularisation, as they were cut loose from the main religious narrative of altarpieces. It is obvious that this evolution thoroughly changed the meaning and function of urban iconography, even though this was a gradual process.23 Many early Netherlandish chorographies can be considered as typical products of a ‘northern humanism’, as they combined the representation of the city as a universal Christian community with the classical trope of the city praise (laus urbium). For instance, the Antwerp town view in the 1515 laudatory book highlights, besides the harbour infrastructure, also the main ecclesiastical monuments of the city. In addition, the skyline is topped by two angels holding a banderol that says: “Salve felix Andwerpia conservatur divina favente gratia”. In the View of the Road of Antwerp the discourse becomes predominantly profane, as the image celebrates the metropolis as a commercial gateway for commodities from all over the world. The city is described as Antverpia Mercatorum Emporium and on the Scheldt float Venetian galleys and various other vessels. Furthermore, the image includes some clear references to the various journeys to the Holy Land undertaken by the Antwerp shipowner Venice. Map making, city views, and moralized geography before the year 1500”, in The Art Bulletin, 60:3, 1978, pp. 425–74. 20 Elisabeth Ross, “Mainz at the crossroads of Utrecht and Venice: Erhard Reuwich and the ‘Peregrinatio in Terram Sanctam’ (1486)”, in Cultural exchange between the Low Countries and Italy (1400–1600), ed. Ingrid Alexander-Skipnes, Turnhout, 2007, pp. 123–44. 21 For a good introduction on ‘chorography’, see: Richard L. Kagan, Urban images of the Hispanic world (1493–1793), New Haven – London, 2000, pp. 11–13. 22 Lucia Nuti characterized the profile view as a typical Netherlandish representational language (Lucia Nuti, “The Perspective Plan in the sixteenth century. The invention of a representational language”, in The Art Bulletin, 76:1, 1994, p. 109). 23 Bernd Roeck, “Die Säkularisierung der Stadtvedute in der Neuzeit”, in Bild und Wahrnehmung der Stadt, ed. Ferdinand Opll, Linz, 2004, pp. 189–98.

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Dierick Paesschen. The returns from these expeditions were celebrated by the entire urban community. It seems plausible that the giant woodcut had been created to recall one of these joyful events, just as De Gheet’s laudatory book ultimately functioned as a memento of Charles’s entry in Antwerp. Throughout Europe, a good few early modern chorographies had a historical-commemorative function. Not uncommonly, a specific event stood at the origin of an artistic town view.24 Besides the commemoration of a historical fact, the prints first and foremost praised the individual features and specific identity that set the city apart from other towns. The major View of the roads in particular offers a ‘line-up’ of the most essential urban monuments, even including the house where the legendary giant Druon Antigoon lived. It seems that at this early stage most of these chorographies sprang out of a private or commercial initiative.25 The small Felix Andwerpia woodcut issued from the humanist milieu of Antwerp printers, even though we ignore whether this happened on spec or on demand. The Ghent printer Pieter De Keysere brought out a similar print of the Ghent skyline in 1524, probably on his own account. This initiative may even have been conceived to advertise the new location of his print shop.26 Also the giant woodcut of the Antwerp Road was most likely not an initiative of the public authorities, as allusions to the local government such as the city arms and the town hall are confined to a minimum.27 Considering its explicit commercial motives, it seems plausible that the print aimed at an audience of international merchants. Perhaps the shipbuilder who takes such a prominent place in the image used the artefact as a gift. There are indications that a panoramic riverside view of Antwerp decorated the residence of the successful Augsburg Fugger family.28 Without a doubt, the shift towards a typographical reproduction of city views opened considerable commercial perspectives. Therefore, the initial blossoming of chorography was much more a market-driven phenomenon than is often assumed. The immense success of Hartmann Schedel’s lavishly illustrated Weltchronik (1493) revealed the attractiveness of pictorial cityscapes and their commercial potential.

24 Marco Folin, “De l’usage pratico-politique des images de villes (Italie, XVe-XVIe siècle)”, in Villes de Flandre et d’Italie (XIIIe-XVIe siècle). Les enseignements d’une comparaison, eds Elisabeth CrouzetPavan & Elodie Lecuppre-Desjardin, Turnhout, 2008, pp. 259–80. Several chorographies were commissioned on the occasion of a princely entry or anniversary (e.g. Cologne, 1521; Amsterdam, 1538; Ghent, 1550). 25 Thomas Besing, “Produktion und Publikum. Aspecte des Herstellung, Verbreitung und Rezeption frühneuzeitlicher Stadtdarstellunge”, in Das Bild der Stadt, eds Behringer & Roeck, pp. 94–100. 26 Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Frederik Buylaert and Jelle De Rock, “City Portrait, Civic Body and Commercial Printing in Sixteenth-Century Ghent”, Renaissance Quarterly, 68, 2015, pp. 803–39. 27 All major monuments are denominated by a banderole with a textual description, with the exception of the old schepenhuis or town hall, even though the building is clearly visible on the print. Unfortunately, the city accounts for that period are lost, so an official commission of the city authorities cannot be entirely excluded. 28 Horst Appuhn & Christian Von Heusinger, Riesenholzschnitte und Papiertapeten der Renaissance, Unterschneidheim, 1976, p. 97.

the city portrayed

10.3. A Rising Viewpoint: the Outcome of a ‘Mapping Impulse’? Soon, the viewpoint of the city views would rise. This ‘axial shift’ constituted a second stage in the evolution of the early Netherlandish chorography, and once again Antwerp played a pioneering role. An elevated viewpoint was very uncommon in fifteenth-century painting. A quantitative analysis of 220 early Netherlandish town views painted in the period 1420–1520 shows that seventyeight per cent show the city in profile, whereas twenty-one per cent are oblique views and only one per cent use a bird’s-eye perspective.29 The elevation of the pictorial viewpoint was initiated on the other side of the Alps, perhaps instigated by the hilly geography of the Italian peninsula. One of the first printed oblique chorographies depicts Florence (Francesco Rosselli, c. 1480), while Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of Venice (1500) sets the tone for the bird’s-eye view.30 In the Netherlands the viewpoint of typographical chorographies was only going to climb from the third decade of the sixteenth century onward. The oldest printed oblique view in the Netherlands is the copper engraving Antwerpia in Brabantia, traditionally dated to between 1524 and 1528 (Fig. 10.8).31 Even if this image holds on to a traditional viewpoint from the left bank of the Scheldt, it innovates the city views of the early sixteenth century by offering a vista of the urban fabric, form, and setting, including the old city walls and the hinterland.32 The image was largely recycled in 1543 by the Venetian artist Fabio Licinio in the engraving La Grand Cita di Anversa (Fig. 10.9). Most remarkably, the artist had made a great effort to adapt the old print to the changed physical appearance of the city. The rapid adaptation of the Antwerp urban iconography shows the importance attached to the circulation of a topical representation of the fast changing city. In the meantime, the old city walls had been torn down (1542) and the construction of a new bastioned fortification had just started. In fact, the Italian engraving of 1543 projects the outline of the future fortifications on the old image. It is likely that Licinio had seen sketches of the city’s new defence system. An anonymous print from c. 1545 that appeared in Lodewijck Van Cauckercken’s Chronicle of Antwerp shows a more truthful image of the

29 The sample of 220 city views was taken from 311 paintings made by the major Flemish masters from the fifteenth century (ranging from the Master of Flémalle to the Gerard David) and 239 paintings by minor anonymous masters. See: De Rock, “The image of the city quantified”, graph 2. See also: Jelle De Rock, Beeld van de stad. Picturale voorstellingen van stedelijkheid in de laatmiddeleeuwse Nederlanden, unpublished PhD dissertation (Antwerp, 2011), p. 62. 30 David Friedman, “Fiorenza. Geography and representation in a fifteenth century city view”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 64:1 (2001), 56–77; Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of Venice”. 31 The engraving closely resembles a painted town view with inscription Antwerpia in Brabancia, dated between 1518 and 1545 (MAS, Antwerp), even though the lower viewpoint and abundance of Venetian galleys suggest a dating prior to the 1524–1528 engraving. In 1534, a painted bird’s-eye view of Ghent was made, by some attributed to the same author of the Antwerp engraving, a member of the Horenbaut-family ( Johan Decavele, Panoramisch gezicht op Gent in 1534, Brussel, 1975). 32 The image was partially recycled in a print by Fabio Licinio (La grand cita di Anversa, c. 1543, Royal Library, Print Collection, Brussels). See: Van der Stock (ed.), Antwerp, cat. 11.

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Figure 10.8. Anonymous artist, Antwerpia in Brabantia, 1524-1528, copper engraving, Prentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Inv. No. RP-P-OB-4318.

Figure 10.9. Fabio Licinio, La Grand Cita di Anversa, c. 1543, copper engraving, Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels, Inv. No. S.II 63445.

transformation of the city walls around 1545: while large stretches of the old city wall are still in place, the new St George’s Gate (now Emperor’s Gate) is just finished and the boundaries of the urban expansion to the North are already visible (Fig. 10.10). In order to capture the amplification and modernisation of the urban perimeter optimally, the Van Cauckercken print was the first to depict the city from the Southeast, away from the riverside.33 From the mid-sixteenth century onward, this viewpoint was going to dominate the Antwerp city views (together with, to a lesser extent, the views from the South). Even though the oblique view and bird’s-eye view were by far the most fit to grasp the city’s outline, a combination of profile views was equally capable of depicting the new fortifications. In 1557, a couple of years after the completion of the new city walls and gates, Hieronymus Cock published an engraving by Melchisedech

33 For a detailed chronology of the construction of the new fortifications, see: Antwerpen versterkt. De Spaanse omwalling vanaf haar bouw in 1542 tot haar afbraak in 1870, ed. Piet Lombaerde, Antwerp, 2009, pp. 28–31.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.10. Anonymous artist, Antwerp from the Southeast, engraving in Lodewijck Van Cauckercken, Chronicle of Antwerp, 1545, Felixarchief Antwerp.

van Hooren representing the urban skyline and its fortifications from the West, East, and South.34 The print explicitly mentions the new fortification system. Nevertheless, an elevated viewpoint became the standard in the Antwerp urban iconography of the second half of the sixteenth century. The more advanced spatial representation of the oblique views presupposes more advanced technical and mathematic skill. In reality, the city could never have been observed by the artist from the suggested elevated viewpoint. Gemma Frisius was the first to describe the method of triangulation, still used in surveying today. The Libellus de locorum describendorum ratione was published in Antwerp in 1533, but was systematically applied only in the city plans made from 1558 onward by Jacob Van Deventer for Philip II.35 A growing number of artists used triangulation to determine the relative positions of various landmarks, yet continued to interpolate the interjacent buildings and streetscapes in a strictly pictorial manner.36 As recently stated by David Woodward, the immediate 34 For a good reproduction, see: Lombaerde, Antwerpen versterkt, p. 8. 35 A Dutch version of the handbook was issued in 1537 (Daniela Stroffolino, La città misurata. Tecniche e strumenti di rilevamento nei trattati a stampa del Cinquecento, Salerno, 1999). For the maps of Van Deventer, see: Bram Vannieuwenhuyze, “Les plans de villes de Jacques de Deventer (XVIe siècle). État de la question et pistes de recherche”, Revue du Nord, 94:396 (2012), 613–33. 36 Hillary Ballon & David Friedman, “Portraying the city in early modern Europe: measurement, representation, and planning”, in The history of cartography, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3, Chicago, 2007, p. 682. Even Leonardo da Vinci’s famous plan of Imola must be considered as a predominantly artistic impression, rather than a mathematical construct (Marco Folin, “Piante di città nell’Italia di antico regime”, in Rappresentare la città. Topografie urbane nell’Italia di antico regime, ed. Marco Folin, Reggio Emilia, 2010, pp. 15–6).

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impact of the scientific and cartographic revolution as a typical ‘renaissance’ phenomenon should not be overrated. He labels the rapid development of cartography in sixteenth-century Western Europe as a process of continuity and change.37 Without a doubt cartographic techniques significantly evolved and the production of maps dramatically increased during the sixteenth century, yet traditional medieval techniques of surveying or describing the city (oral, textual, pictorial) remained broadly applied. A pure geometrical city plan was still too abstract to appeal to a broad public. A certain degree of ‘cartographic literacy’ was required before the orthogonal representation of urban space became broadly accepted and commercially interesting.38 Only within the context of constructional, hydrological, military or administrative planning were orthogonal or ‘ichnographic’ town views more commonly used from the early sixteenth century onward. In most cases, these often sketchy technical plans were confined to a specific neighbourhood or a distinct spatial component, such as waterways, fortifications, streets or parcels.39 Once more, the Antwerp city archive contains some of the oldest city plans in the Netherlands. A severely damaged plan of the entire city recently received renewed attention.40 It combines an orthogonal street plan with a pictorial and coloured rendering of the houses and monuments (Fig. 10.11). The buildings are consequently not represented from a single viewpoint or direction, but stand perpendicularly on the streets. During the first half of the sixteenth century this ‘multifocality’ and the bright colouring were commonly used in legal maps and occasionally in artistic chorographies.41 In the 1530s and 1540s several similar plans had been made of the Ossenmarkt quarter and the northern expansion for legal matters or construction activities.42 The Antwerp plan probably functioned as a dynamic document and registered some major adaptations of the Antwerp townscape in the period 1540–1570. Besides the medieval town walls (torn down around 1542) the map also shows the new fortifications (1542–1553), the northern expansion (Nieuwstad, started around 1549), the new Town Hall (1564), the Hessenhuis (1564), and the Spanish citadel (1567). The document had a strictly professional, 37 David Woodward, “Cartography and the Renaissance: Continuity and Change”, in The History of Cartography, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3, Chicago, 2007, pp. 7–8. 38 The principles of the Euclidean geometry of Ptolemy conflicted with those of linear perspective, where all parallels converge in a single vanishing point (Paul Huvenne, “Beeld van de stad vanuit cartografisch perspectief ”, in Stad in Vlaanderen, ed. Jan Van der Stock, Brussel, 1991, pp. 56–7). 39 Folin, “De l’usage pratico-politique”, passim. 40 Felixarchief, Antwerp, Inv. no. 12#11667. Joost Depuydt (Felixarchief ) is currently conducting research on this city plan. 41 Another, very similar example is Jacques de Lieur’s hydrographic plan of Rouen (Livre des Fontaines, 1525). See: Lucien-René Delsalle, Benoît Eliot & Stéphane Rioland, Le Livre des fontaines de la ville de Rouen, par Jacques Le Lieur, Bonsecours, 2005. See also: Peter Jan Margry, “De ontwikkeling van de stadsplattegrond”, in Stadsplattegronden. Werken met kaartmateriaal bij stadshistorisch onderzoek, eds Peter Jan Margry, Paul Ratsma & B. M. J. Speet, Hilversum, 1987, p. 12. The so-called ‘fish-eye view’ (popular during the first half of the sixteenth century) assembles many focus points from a central view point in the middle of the city. A fine example is Conrad Morant’s view of Strasbourg (1548). See: Kagan, Urban images, pp. 5–6. 42 De Brabander, Na-kaarten over Antwerpen, pp. 44–6.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.11. Anonymous artist, Detail from a plan of the city of Antwerp, 16th century, ink on paper, City Archives Antwerp, Inv. No. 12 # 11667.

non-public use, as suggested by the lack of heraldry and literary inscriptions, even though the major monuments and streets are denominated. It is very likely that this plan recycled an even older version. In a rapidly changing metropolis town plans faced limited tenability. Perhaps, the scarcity of early modern town maps can at least partially be explained by their unfavourable preservation conditions. To give a clue: the inventory of the Antwerp surveyor and city architect Peter Frans contains fifty-five plans and sketches of the urban fortifications, the Nieuwstad, the citadel, the town hall, etc. Few of them have survived.43 It cannot be denied that both the technical maps and ‘artistic’ chorographies were, to a varying degree, the product of a ‘mapping impulse’ that characterised Renaissance society. The New World, princely territories, exotic plants, and animals: they all increasingly became the subject of a more scientific descrip­­ tion. Still, the urge to register spatial data was by no means a sixteenth-century novelty. Already in the High Middle Ages various ‘linguistic’ templates enabled the textual or oral survey of urban space.44 Without a doubt, the visual representation of space gained authority in early modern Europe, but it did not swiftly

43 Leon Voet, Gustaaf Asaert & Hugo Soly, De stad Antwerpen van de Romeinse tijd tot de 17de eeuw. Topografische studie rond het plan van Virgilius Bononiensis (1565), Brussel, 1978, p. 135. 44 Dan L. Smail, Imaginary cartographies: possession and identity in late medieval Marseille, Ithaca, 1999.

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replace traditional surveying techniques. Throughout the ancien régime the textual description of space remained a standard practice. Many early modern chorographers considered the cartographic idiom as a mean, rather than a goal.45 This becomes even more obvious in the second half of the sixteenth century, when the popular perspective plan tried to combine the pictorial oblique view with the cartographic town plan. 10.4. Between Portrait and Map: the Antwerp Perspective Plans Around 1550 the development of the early Netherlandish chorography enters a third stage. Throughout Europe a new ‘representational mode’ catches on: the perspective plan.46 The view angle rises towards 60°, combining an almost orthogonal view of the street plan with a perspective rendering of the buildings. At this point, chorography increasingly embraced the ‘scientific’ techniques of geography, both practically and rhetorically. Triangulation became a commonly used practice, while the depiction of various scientific instruments and textual inscriptions referred to the geometrica ratio of the perspective plan. Recent research revealed that these perspective views were relatively accurate.47 One of the first known Netherlandish bird’s-eye views shows the city of Amsterdam (a painting by Cornelis Anthonsz., 1538), but cannot be considered as a fully fledged perspective plan, as the street grid is only partially depicted.48 Around 1550, a true perspective plan of Ghent was made by Johannes Otho for the city aldermen. Unfortunately, only a smaller-scaled print from c. 1553 survives.49 Unlike many city views from the first half of the sixteenth century, most early perspective plans seem to have been commissioned and financed by the municipal authorities.50

45 Folin, “De l’usage pratico-politique”, 265. 46 A concise overview of the first perspective plans makes clear the relatively synchronic and international dimension of this phenomenon: Augsburg (1521, Seld), Amsterdam (Anthonisz., 1538), Calais (Petit?, c. 1545), Strasbourg (Morant, 1548), Lyon (anonymous, 1548–1553), Basel (Manuel, 1549), Ghent (Otho, 1551), Frankfurt (von Kreuznach, 1552), Paris (Truschet/Hoyau, c. 1552), London (‘Copper Plate Map’, 1553–1559), Rome (Pinard, 1555), Norwich (Cunningham, 1559), Bruges (Gerards, 1562); Ypres (Thévelin-Destrée, 1564). See: Nuti, “The perspective plan”, pp. 105–28. Jean Boutier, “Cartographies urbaines dans l’Europe de la Renaissance”, in Le plan de Lyon, 1548–1552. Édition critique des 25 planches originales du plan conservé aux archives de la ville de Lyon, Lyon, 1990, pp. 25–7. 47 Bram Vannieuwenhuyze found a high degree of similarity between Braun-Hogenburg’s plan of Brussels (1572) and the plan of W. B. Craen (1835) (Bram Vannieuwenhuyze, Brussel, de ontwikkeling van een middeleeuwse stedelijke ruimte, unpublished PhD-thesis, Gent, 2008, pp. 50–2). 48 Ariane Van Suchtelen & Arthur K. Wheelock Jr., Hollandse stadsgezichten uit de Gouden Eeuw, Zwolle, 2008, pp. 14–5. 49 Johan Decavele, Panoramisch gezicht op Gent. 50 The 1538 painting of Amsterdam was commercialized in 1544 by the artist himself. In 1551 a downsized version of the Ghent city view was published. Also the famous Bruges perspective plan, made in 1562 by Marcus Gerards for the Bruges government, knew considerable commercial success. A copy even appeared on the market of Seville.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.12. Virgilius Bononiensis, Urbs Antverpia, 1565, coloured woodcut, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. MPM.V.VI.01.002.

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In Antwerp, the oldest preserved perspective plan was printed in 1557 by Hieronymus Cock, probably as a commercial venture (Fig. 10.13). Here, the viewpoint has radically shifted towards the East and the pictorial plane in the front has been tilted in order to optimally register the urban street grid and the geometrical outline of the new fortifications (as opposed to the much lower angle from which the left bank has been depicted in the background). A much more elaborate and large-scale version (120 × 265 cm) of this Eastern view was designed by the Italian chorographer Virgilius Bononiensis and printed in 1565 by Gillis Coppens van Diest with the inscription Urbs Antverpia (Fig. 10.12). This enterprise was made possible by the private investment of two (probably Italian) partners. However, most likely, earlier public commissions had prompted the development of this hybrid, semi-cartographic image of Antwerp. The city accounts reveal that Bononiensis had already been active in Antwerp since at least 1545 and carried out various assignments by the municipal authorities. In 1547–1549 he drafted large stretches of the new fortification and in 1552 the city’s treasurers ordered him to “paint and illuminate a certain map of this city”.51 These public commissions enabled Bononiensis, denominated by the accounts as a ‘painter’, to master various geographical techniques and to develop a clearer sense of the Antwerp forma urbis and urban morphology. The twofold character of the famous 1565 view is clearly indicated by an inscription, stating that Bononiensis had made the image of the city ad vivam similitudinem geometrica ratione.52 In the 1550s the Italian artist tried to capitalise on his skills and knowledge by applying for a patent for the printing and selling of ‘portraits’ of Antwerp. It is clear that throughout the second half of the sixteenth century the perspective plan becomes the prevailing representational mode, also in Antwerp. The famous city atlas of Braun and Hogenberg (Civitates Orbis Terrarum, 1572) for instance preferred this style over the profile, oblique or orthogonal view (Fig. 10.16).53 The perspective plan offered many advantages. First of all, it enabled one to capture in one image the major monuments of the city, the outlay of its (new) fortifications, its favourable logistic setting (waterways, quays), and the recent urban expansion. Many cities faced major spatial rearrangements around this time. The old medieval walls were gradually replaced by new fortifications (the so-called trace italienne), the urban water management was rearranged and new buildings (town hall, stock exchange) and quarters were created. It is revealing that during this phase of intense spatial transformation the viewpoint of the Antwerp perspective plans shifted towards the East and ultimately the South, emphasising respectively the new fortifications and the Spanish citadel (1567). Perhaps more than in any other town, the Antwerp enceinte set the city apart 51 Voet, Asaert & Soly, De stad Antwerpen, pp. 135–6. 52 Voet, Asaert & Soly, De stad Antwerpen, p. 134. 53 Jean-Marc Besse, Les grandeurs de la terre: aspects du savoir géographique à la Renaissance, Lyon, 2003, p. 203; Wolfgang Behringer, “Die großen Städtebücher und ihre Voraussetzungen”, in Das Bild der Stadt, eds Behringher & Roeck, pp. 81–3.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.13. Hieronymus Cock, Antverpia, 1557, copper engraving, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. 17864.

from its hinterland, as Charles V had prohibited any kind of building within a radius of 700 metres from the city walls.54 The rapid spatial transformation of the city prompted the innovation of the Antwerp urban iconography. Hieronymus Cock’s view (1557) clearly indicates the northern expansion (Nieuwstad) as Antverpia postremum amplificata, whereas an adaption of this woodcut by Pauwels Overbeke (1566) was updated in 1568, including the “new citadel and accretion” (Fig. 10.14).55 This phased growth of the metropolis was perceived as illustrative of the Antwerp success story. In the 1560s, the urban population had reached its zenith, exceeding 100,000 inhabitants and rapidly filling the open space within the city walls. At the 1561 Landjuweel, a contest of Brabant rhetoricians’ chambers, the prologue of the Mechlin chamber De Lisbloem trumpeted the subsequent stages of the Antwerp growth and the corresponding extensions of the urban territory.56 Also the legend of the Bononiensis view clearly praises the

54 De Brabander, Na-kaarten, p. 47. 55 The legend of the 1568 woodcut says: La villa d’Anversa co[n] la nova Citadella & acrecimento (De Brabander, Na-kaarten, pp. 52–3). 56 Jeroen Vandommele, Als in een spiegel. Vrede, kennis en gemeenschap op het Antwerpse Landjuweel van 1561, Hilversum, 2011, pp. 306–7.

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triple expansion of the city walls.57 Nevertheless, from 1566 onward a series of dramatic events initiated the decline of the Antwerp economy and halted the spatial inflation of the city. Large stretches of the Nieuwstad remained never to be filled in. Still, even in the seventeenth century, the awareness and fascination for the spatial genesis of the city incited the production of drawings and sketches that documented the consecutive phases of the urban growth.58 Around the middle of the century, public authorities, both local and central, increasingly recognised the potential of chorographies as a discursive instrument and marketing tool that could reach a large audience. The geographic bestsellers of Sebastian Münster (Cosmographia, 1544) and Braun-Hogenberg (Civitates Orbis Terrarum, 1572) offered an ideal platform for the self-imaging of cities throughout Europe and the New World. Many chorographies of the early sixteenth century were already conceived as ‘pictorial encomia’ or city praises, highlighting both visually and textually the qualities of the city.59 However, only from the middle of the century onwards did urban governments start to actively commission chorographies, in order to function as a gift, as a commemoration or as a marketing instrument. One of the finest illustrations of such a public representation strategy is the perspective plan of Bruges, made in 1562 by Marcus Gerards. The city accounts clearly indicate the intention of the urban authorities to overstate the navigable connections between the city and the sea in order to attract merchants to the waning Bruges port.60 The Urbs Antverpia print of Bononiensis includes a panegyric verse, composed by the Antwerp humanist and city secretary Cornelis Scribonius Grapheus. The verse praises the city for its size, its multitude of churches, streets, and bridges, its massive fortifications, and its imposing monuments.61 As Grapheus died in 1558, the text must have been created some years earlier. Most likely, it was made for an older, ‘official’ city view or the occasion of a public event, before it was ‘recycled’ in the commercial version of 1565. These Urbs Antverpia plans can be considered powerful expressions of a collective urban self-consciousness and blossoming humanist culture.62 The same is true for the famous atlas of world cities (Civitates 57 Habet in murorum ambitu, cum nova ad Boream Civitate (quandoquidem iam tertium amplificata est) quinquies mille decentos ac XII […] (Voet, Asaert & Soly, De stad Antwerpen, p. 145). 58 An anonymous pen drawing titled De stadt van Antwerpen. Haer beghinsel ende vermeerderingen (“The city of Antwerp. Its origin and accretion”) made around 1610 indicates the various phases of the Antwerp spatial expansion. Also the chronicle of Louis van Cauckercken (1688–1696) contains some aquarelles that depict the consecutive stages of the Antwerp spatial development (Tijs, Antwerpen. Historisch portret, pp. 28–9, 32). 59 The term ‘visual encomia’ is used by: Thomas Frangenberg, “Chorographies of Florence. The use of city views and city plans in the sixteenth century”, Imago Mundi, 46, 1994, pp. 41–64 (especially p. 44). 60 The city accounts literally state: ten fine dat men mercken mach de goede navigatie / “in order to be noticed the good navigation” (A. Schouteet, Marcus Gerards: zestiende-eeuws schilder en graveur, Brugge 1985, p. 42). 61 Voet, Asaert & Soly, De stad Antwerpen, pp. 136, 145–6. 62 See also: Heike Frozien-Leinz, “Der Corputius-Plan. Kommunales Selbsbewusstsein und Werbemittel. Stadtbilder in Mittelalter und früher Neuzeit”, in Von Flandern zum Niederrhein. Wirtschaft und Kultur überwinden Grenzen, eds Heike Frozien-Leinz et al., Duisburg, 2000, pp. 87–100.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.14. Pauwels Overbeke, Plan of Antwerp without the new citadel, 1568, woodcut, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. nv. No. 12#4117_001.

Orbis Terrarum), conceived by a group of Antwerp-based humanists, of which most eventually migrated to Cologne (the cartographers Abraham Ortelius and Jacob van Deventer, the engravers Frans Hogenberg and Joris Hoefnagel, and the Jesuit publisher Georg Braun). The first volume was published in 1572 in Cologne and Antwerp as a commercial product that targeted both scholarly collectors and unlearned buyers, both princes and merchants. Made in a period of escalatory tension between municipal/provincial powers and the Habsburg state, the Civitates functioned according to Peter Arnade as “a visual poem to the city as aesthetic gem, economic anchor, and essential social form”.63 Even though in the first volume the perspective plan of Antwerp was drawn from a southern vantage point, foregrounding the impressive citadel that was built by the tyrannical duke of Alba, this image expressed the self-awareness and pride of the city as a Renaissance architectural showcase (Fig. 10.14-15). In the fifth volume, published in 1598, when the southern Low Countries had been pacified under the archducal rule of Albrecht and Isabella, a second representation of Antwerp returns to the traditional viewpoint toward the West, focusing again on the Our Lady’s Cathedral and the bustle of ships on the Scheldt.64

63 Peter Arnade, “The City in a World of Cities: Antwerp and the ‘Civitates Orbis Terrarum’”, in The power of space in late medieval and early modern Europe: the cities of Italy, Northern France and the Low Countries, eds Marc Boone & Martha Howell, Turnhout, 2013, pp. 197–215 (p. 202). 64 Arnade, The City in a World of Cities, pp. 209–15.

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Figure 10.15. Pauwels Overbeke, Plan of Antwerp with the new citadel, 1568, woodcut, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. nv. No. 12#4117_002.

Some authors have recently pin-pointed a growing need for ‘territorial self-entitlement’ as another major impulse for the increasing ‘orthogonality’ of the chorographies of the second half of the sixteenth century. An elevated viewpoint perfectly allowed one to discern the urban boundaries in a larger landscape. In imitation of the central state,65 urban authorities were eager to define their territories in a more compelling and legal manner as a ‘bounded space’.66 Nevertheless, the demarcation of territorial boundaries was not at all an early modern novelty. For many decades, maps had been drawn to settle jurisdiction and property conflicts, whereas the textual description of borders was already 65 Edward Muir, “Governments and bureaucracies”, in A companion to the worlds of the Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero, Oxford, 2007, pp. 112. 66 Ellen Wurtzel, “City limits and state formation: territorial jurisdiction in late medieval and early modern Lille”, in The power of space in late medieval and early modern Europe: the cities of Italy, Northern France and the Low Countries, eds Marc Boone & Martha Howell, Turnhout, 2013, pp. 29–42; Laurens Vollenbronck, “De stadsplattegronden van Jacob van Deventer. Geen militaire maar een territoriaal-politieke functie”, Historisch-geografisch Tijdschrift, 27, 2009, pp. 73–83. A critical approach to the medieval and early modern perception of ‘territory’ as a continuous space, see: Nathalie Bouloux, “Culture géographique et représentation du territoire au Moyen Âge: quelques propositions”, in De l’espace aux territoires. La territorialité des processus sociaux et culturels au Moyen Âge, ed. Stéphane Boissellier, Turnhout, 2010, pp. 89–112.

the city portrayed

Figure 10.16. Antwerp, in Braun and Hogenberg, Civitates orbis terrarum, 1572, Cologne. Universiteitsbibliotheek, Bijzondere Collecties, Universiteit Leiden.

Figure 10.17. Beschriivinge vande paelen der vriiheiit van Antwerpen, in Rechten en costuimen van Antwerpen (ed. Christopher Plantin), 1582, Museum Plantin Moretus / Prentenkabinet, Antwerpen, Inv. No. PK.OP.17904 IVON.3.

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a common practice in the late Middle Ages.67 Even though sixteenth-century perspective plans were occasionally used in lawsuits,68 they did not primarily function as legal evidence or as a territorial claim, but rather as a hold for the identity of the urban community and its place within the larger landscape of the rising central state. Many perspective plans reserved a prominent position for royal or imperial heraldry and abundantly referred to the principality to which they belonged. They were by no means expressions of urban navel-gazing or urge for communal autonomy. Only towards the end of the century did painted and printed maps start to fixate the physical and juridical boundaries of the city as a whole. In 1582 Christopher Plantin illustrated an edition of the Antwerp customary law with an orthogonal projection of the city and the surrounding vrijheid (Fig. 10.17).69 This final stage of the ‘axial shift’ of sixteenth-century chorography is clearly visible when comparing the successive editions of Ludovico Guicciardini’s Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (first published in 1567).70 From the end of the sixteenth century onwards, the geometric and pictorial representation modes were increasingly separated. 10.5. Conclusion During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the visual representation of urban space experienced a thorough evolution towards a more realistic, autonomous, secularised, and multifunctional image of a changing community. Renaissance Europe increasingly conceived space as a continuous, particular, and measurable category.71 Nevertheless, it is too far-fetched to confine the development of early modern urban iconography uniquely to a furor cartographicus. The rediscovery of Ptolemy and other classical geographers influenced the creation of city views not only by its technical and mathematical impact, but as much by legitimating the position of the chorographer as an artist, rather than a surveyor. However, even if the ‘mapping impulse’ is not an exclusive symptom of the early modern Renaissance, the increasing importance of visual realism, enhancing the ‘truth claim’ of the represented space, is undoubtedly a novel and modern feature of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century chorography.72 67 François de Dainville, “Cartes et contestations au XVe siècle”, Imago Mundi, 24, 1970, pp. 99–121. 68 An oblique view of Ghent painted in 1534 for the abbot of the Saint-Bavo’s Abbey was used by the city aldermen to settle property conflicts (Decavele, Panoramisch gezicht, p. 17). 69 Voet, Asaert & Soly, De stad Antwerpen, pp. 62–3. In the seventeenth century more detailed maps of the marquisate of Antwerp were produced (Tijs, Antwerpen, pp. 84, 105). 70 Compare for instance the first edition (1567) with the edition from 1634 (Guicciardini Illustratus. De kaarten en prenten in Lodovico Guicciardini’s ‘Beschrijving van de Nederlanden’, eds Henk Deys, Mathieu Franssen & Vincent van Hezik, Utrecht, 2001, pp. 130–1). 71 Paul Zumthor, La mesure du monde: représentation de l’espace au Moyen Age, Paris, 1993. 72 Martin Jay, “Scopic regimes of modernity”, in Modernity and identity, eds Scott Lash & Jonathan Friedman, Oxford, 1992. Many chorographies include legends that assure that the view is made ‘from life’ (ad vivam).

the city portrayed

When looking at the evolution of early modern chorography, it is possible to discern by and large an ‘axial shift’ of the viewpoint towards orthogonality. This advance was neither teleological nor monolithic. Several ‘representational styles’ coexisted, sometimes resulting in highly hybrid images, described by Joseph Monteyne as ‘map-like objects’.73 Initially, early Netherlandish chorography seems to have been predominantly market-driven. By multiplying the commercial potential of chorographies, the development of printed city views functioned as a powerful trigger. It comes as no surprise that the city of Antwerp played a pioneer role in this success-story. Around 1500 the harbour town had become a major typographical centre and a flourishing commercial hub crammed with entrepreneurs and potential buyers. Moreover, the metropolis in the making boasted a strong tradition of self-portraiture in painted altarpieces. Antwerp’s rapid growth from a minor town to a giant commercial and humanist centre prompted the development of novel, up-to-date representations of the city. The swift transformation of the urban society also fostered the need to construct a well-chosen collective identity that highlighted and safeguarded the urban success. Both public authorities and private initiatives contributed to a powerful discourse representing the city as a ‘community of commerce’. The majority of the early Antwerp urban iconography (especially before 1550) unmistakably propagated this vision of the city. In the second half of the sixteenth century the viewpoint of the Antwerp city views continued to rise, and shifted from the river Scheldt (West) towards the new fortifications (East) and the citadel (South). Furthermore, the elevated viewpoint of the successful perspective plans allowed a superior rendering of the urban expansions, new city walls and in some cases the surrounding countryside. The rapid succession of up-to-date town views proves to what extent the Antwerp community was preoccupied by the spatial amplification of the city, unparalleled by any other city in the sixteenth-century Low Countries. Besides the strong tradition of painted city portraits, the availability of economic capital and potential buyers, and the strong presence of a humanistic print culture, the unequalled spatial expansion of the city was without a doubt one of the major driving forces of the rich Antwerp urban iconography. Most remarkably, the printing of Antwerp city views did not lead to an iconographic sclerosis, as was the case for many other cities.74 Due to its massive market (and selling potential) and its rapid spatial expansion, the urban iconography of Antwerp boasts many variants and adaptations. Without a doubt, the image of the metropolis is the most diverse of all cities in the sixteenth-century Low Countries. As a consequence of this remarkable neophilia the Antwerp city views constantly assembled external influences and generated original ways of 73 Joseph Monteyne, The printed image in early modern London: urban space, visual representation, and social exchange, Aldershot, 2007, p. 20. 74 For many minor towns one singular print could circulate for decades, even if the spatial reality of the city had dramatically changed.

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representing the city. This touches the essence of the ‘heterogenesis’ described by Peter Burke as quintessential for the Renaissance metropolis. Re-evaluating De Seta’s statement cited in the introduction of this essay, we need to conclude that Ptolemy did not at all surpass Herodotus. Many early modern chorographers did not simply ‘map’ the physical space of the city (urbs), but rather intended to describe a specific event, the urban expansion, the peculiarities of the city and, ultimately, to grasp its identity (civitas). In short, most sixteenth-century city views tell subjective stories about the city.75 It is no sinecure to discern the precise phenomena that inspired these narratives. They range from the military revolution, a blossoming humanist and civic culture, a dedication to the particular, individual and visual, the ascending central state, an on-going bureaucratisation and legal discourse, etc. For this reason it is plain that the chorographies of early modern Europe were true agents of modernity.

75 Richard L. Kagan, “Urbs and civitas in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Spain”, in Envisioning the city: six studies in urban cartography, ed. David Buisseret, Chicago, 1998, pp. 75–108. On the narrative of chorographies, see the pioneer study of Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of Venice”, pp. 425–74.

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Trial and Error Antwerp Renaissance Art 11.1.  Michiel Coxcie and the Antwerp Renaissance art To understand Antwerp Art in the Age of Renaissance and Reformation it is important to be aware of two important facts. The fist one is that Antwerp (unlike Bruges, Brussels, Ghent or even Leuven and Tournai) did not have an important art historical tradition in the fifteenth century.1 It started, so to speak, from scratch around 1500 and built itself international renown within a couple of decades.2 The art of the Flemish primitives was only introduced when in 1515 Gerard David opened a second workshop in the city of Antwerp and when other major artists from all over the Netherlands and the neighbouring countries found their way to the emerging “Capital of Capitalism”.3 Secondly, the absolute height of Antwerp’s fame as the epicentre of art in Northern Europe fell in the first decades of the seventeenth century, when Rubens ran his artistic empire on the banks of the River Scheldt.4 In between lay a century of major changes: political spinning and religious turmoil, the discovery of a new world and a struggle for the preservation of the old, an intellectual rebirth and the invention of new media. The Renaissance in Antwerp was the introduction of a new way to address visual narratives under constantly varying circumstances, unhindered by a burdening past. Michiel Coxcie’s life is an excellent guideline for understanding this complicated story of Antwerp Art in the sixteenth century.5 The world he grew up in in the early decades of the century was hardly comparable to the city he died in when he fell off the scaffolding in March 1592, aged 93.6 Within his lifetime, everything had changed, not just art. Moreover, the life he lived is illustrative of the many 1 Koenraad Jonckheere, “Repetition and the Genesis of Meaning. An Introductory Note”, in Art after Iconoclasm. Painting in the Netherlands between 1566 and 1585, eds Koenraad Jonckheere & Ruben Suykerbuyk, Turnhout, 2012, pp. 7–19. 2 Annick Born, “Antwerp Mannerism. A Fashionable Style?”, in ExtravagAnt! A forgotten chapter of Antwerp painting. 1500–1530, eds Kristin Lohse Belkin & Nico Van Hout, Antwerp, 2005, pp. 10–29. 3 Larry Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes. The Rise of Pictorial Genres in the Antwerp Art Market, Philadelphia, 2006; Philippe Rombouts & Théodore F. X. Van Lerius, De Liggeren en andere historisch archieven der Antwerpse St.-Lucasgilde, vol. 1, Amsterdam, 1961 [reprint of 1864–1876 edition], pp. 83. 4 For an extensive Bibliography of Rubens’ life and work see: http://oxfordindex.oup.com/ view/10.1093/obo/9780195399301-0094. 5 Koenraad Jonckheere (ed.), Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592) and the Giants of His Age, Turnhout, 2013; Raphael De Smedt (ed.), Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592). Pictor Regis, Mechelen, 1992. 6 For a biography of Coxcie see Koenraad Jonckheere & Ruben Suykerbuyck, “The life and times of Michiel Coxcie, 1499–1592”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592) and the Giants of His Age, pp. 24–49; R. De Smedt, “Chronologische bibliografie over Michiel Coxcie”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592). Pictor Regis, pp. 257–84. Koenraad Jonckheere • Ghent University Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 263–294.

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challenges Antwerp artists faced in the sixteenth century. The major caesurae of his life overlap with the major changes in artistic production in Antwerp. Indeed Coxcie as a youngster had seen Quinten Massys and the Antwerp mannerists at work, but he lived and trained in Brussels with Bernard van Orley, the court painter.7 Brussels was still the more prominent artistic centre at the time, dominated by tapestry production, the more innovative medium, as it was destined for the international elites residing in the Court city.8 But, when Van Orley was convicted of ‘Lutheranism’ in 1527, Coxcie left for Rome. He learned that across the Alps, artists painted frescoes instead of panels, that they mainly worked with tempera instead of oils and that on the peninsula no one was able to produce the fabulous tapestries that were so common in the elite households of the Netherlands.9 In Italy, he also learned that painters studied the works of Plato and the ancient Roman architect Vitruvius and that Leonardo da Vinci had framed painting as the overarching Art of the Artes Liberales. In Italy the best painters were ‘scientists’, working shoulder to shoulder with the humanist elite. Hence, he was confronted with the fact that mimesis is not so straightforward and thus that a theoretical grounding for art was desirable and, just like his fellow travellers, he started to understand that printmaking had much artistic potential.10 When Coxcie returned to the Netherlands in 1540, Antwerp had boomed as an economic capital, attracting ambitious entrepreneurs from all over Europe.11 While before he left he had witnessed the rise of Pieter Coecke van Aelst and Joos van Cleve, upon his return Coxcie had to compete with their pupils Frans Floris, Willem Key and Pieter Bruegel and with the Amsterdam immigrant Pieter Aertsen.12 Within ten years, the circumstances had completely changed. The Schilderspand – a permanent shop for painters on the second floor of the Bourse – had just opened (1540) and Our Lady’s and other churches were being redecorated.13 Upon his return in 1540, Coxcie painted a new altarpiece for Antwerp’s Our Lady, displaying the Holy Kinship (on the central panel) in

7 Nicole Dacos, “Michiel Coxcie dans l’atelier de Bernard Van Orley”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592). Pictor Regis, pp. 31–54. 8 Bob Van Den Boogert, “Michiel Coxcie, hofschilder in dienst van het Habsburgse huis”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592). Pictor Regis, pp. 119–32; Bob Van den Boogert, Habsburgs hofmecenaat en de introductie van de Italiaanse Hoogrenaissance in de Lage Landen, unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Amsterdam, 1998. 9 Hans Devisscher (ed.) Fiamminghi a Roma 1508–1608. Kunstenaars uit de Nederlanden en het Prinsbisdom Luik te Rome tijdens de Renaissance, Brussel, 1995; Nicole Dacos (ed.), Fiamminghi a Roma. 1508–1608, Rome, 1997. 10 Joris Van Grieken, “Publish or perish: Michiel Coxcie in print”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592) and the Giants of His Age, pp. 157–83. 11 See chapter 1 in this book. 12 On these artists see below. The literature on Bruegel is vast. Recent notable monographs are: Larry Silver, Pieter Bruegel, New York, 2011; Manfred Sellink, Bruegel. The Complete Paintings, Drawings and Prints, Ghent, 2007. 13 On the dramatic changes of the Art market. Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the Market. Commercialization of Art in Antwerp’s Golden Age, Turnhout, 2003. Prior to the Schilderspand, there was Our-Lady’s Pand. See: Dan Ewing, “Marketing Art in Antwerp, 1460–1560: Our Lady’s Pand”, in The Art Bulletin, 72, 1990, pp. 558–84.

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Figure 11.1. Michiel Coxcie, Holy Kinship (1540), Stift Kremsmünster.

a completely new way, i.e. for Netherlandish standards at the time (Fig. 11.1). Instead of the longstanding Van Eyckian principles (which had never completely been abandoned), he chose to build his composition on the basis of models taken from Da Vinci, Rafaël, Michelangelo and of course, Antique sculpture. The contrast with the existing altarpiece in the Cathedral could not have been greater, as a simple comparison to Massys’s altarpiece shows. Whether it was a trigger for a grand innovation scheme in the Cathedral and other Churches cannot really be determined, but the fact is that Frans Floris, Willem Key and other leading artists now were invited by guilds, fraternities and families to

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paint quite a lot of new altarpieces for their altars and chapels, all building on or referring to the all’Antica style, in one way or another.14 Also in the 1540s and 1550s, the new, economic elite trained in Latin schools slowly started to collect, hence inspiring painters to set up larger workshop, produce variants, copies and pastiches and experiment with new techniques, iconographies and genres. The Antwerp mannerist idiom, which had dominated local art production from c. 1500 to the 1530s faded out, to make room for new experiments: all’antica history painting, landscape painting, new genres and all kinds of combinations thereof. It was the height of the Antwerp Renaissance. Coxcie, as a teenager, had also seen how the sculptors of Antwerp had built themselves a European reputation as carvers of impressive retables;15 he had witnessed how Cornelis Floris I and II and Jacob Jonghelinck introduced the Renaissance,16 spreading it further in Northern Europe to eventually learn that many of these ‘steene beelde’ (‘stone sculptures’) were dismissed as idols, and destroyed in the beeldenstorm of 1566.17 Yet, in his old age, Coxcie also saw how the city of Antwerp arose as a phoenix after Alessandro Farnese had conquered it in 1585 and thousands fled to the North. Coxcie, nearly ninety years old now, again played a major part in it. He designed and executed new altarpieces for the Cathedral of Our Lady.18 Coxcie’s personal life, too, was turbulent.19 While he made a fabulous career as a court painter, trying to merge Northern and Southern concepts of art, he lost his possessions during the beeldenstorm, and witnessed the destruction of

14 Ria Fabri & Nico Van Hout (eds), Van Quinten Metsijs tot Peter Paul Rubens. Meesterwerken uit het Koninklijk Museum terug in De Kathedraal, Antwerp, 2009. 15 Hans Nieuwdorp (ed.), Antwerpse Retabels 15de-16de Eeuw, Antwerp, 1993; Ria De Boodt & Ulrich Schäfer, Vlaamse Retabels. Een internationale reis langs laatmiddeleeuws beeldsnijwerk, Leuven, 2007. 16 Antoinette Huysmans, Jan Van Damme, Carl Van De Velde et al., Cornelis Floris 1514–1575. Beeldhouwer, Architect, Ontwerper, ed. Hans Devisscher, Brussels, 1996; more recent: Alexandra Lipinska, “Alabastrum, id est, corpus hominis. Alabaster in the Low Countries, a cultural history”, in Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, 62, 2012, pp. 84–115, esp. pp. 91–2; Koen Ottenheym, “Sculptors’ Architecture. The International Scope of Cornelis Floris and Hendrick de Keyser”, in The Low Countries at the Crossroads. Netherlandish Architecture as an Export Product in Early Modern Europe (1480–1680), eds Koen Ottenheym & Krista De Jonge, Turnhout, 2013, pp. 103–27. For Jonghelinck see: Luc Smolderen, “Du nouveau sur Jacques Jonghelinck”, in Revue belge de numismatique et de sigillographie, 156, 2010, pp. 129–74; Arjan De Koomen, “‘Una cosa non meno maravigliosa che honorata’. The expansion of Netherlandish sculptors in sixteenth-century Europe”, in Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, 63, 2013, pp. 82–109, esp. p. 92; A. Pappot & L. Wiersma, “Jacques Jongelinck, bronze sculptor of the Low Countries in the sixteenth century”, in Sculpture Journal, 26, 1, 2017, pp. 69–82. Most recently on Netherlandish sculpture: Ethan Matt Kavaler, Frits Scholten & Joanna Woodall (ed.), Netherlandish Sculpture of the 16th Century, Leiden, 2017. 17 On the Iconoclasm in the Low Countries, see most recently: Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Koenraad Jonckheere & Ruben Suykerbuyk, “Beeldenstorm: Iconoclasm in the Low Countries”, in BMGN – Low countries Historical Review, 2016, 131, 1, pp. 3–14. On the impact on the arts: Koenraad Jonckheere, Antwerp Art after Iconoclasm. Experiments in Decorum 1566–1585, Brussels, New Haven and London, 2012. 18 Carl Van De Velde, “De Coxcies uit de Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk van Antwerpen”, in Michiel Coxcie (1499–1592). Pictor Regis, pp. 193–214. 19 Cf. note 6.

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so many altarpieces and epitaphs, including his own. He saw his house being plundered and his son being convicted of heresy in Rome while he himself served Philips II, Alba, Requesens and Farnese. Such events too, were part of daily life for artists in the Netherlands in the sixteenth century. They had important, sometimes life-threatening political and religious decisions to make and to find a way to judiciously meander in the constantly changing social landscape. Coxcie eventually died, at nearly ninety-three years old, falling off the scaffolding while restoring a work of Quinten Massys, the master he had known and admired as an adolescent, but by then had become a legend. 11.2. Lost Coherence Overviews of sixteenth century Antwerp art tend to take one perspective as a point of departure, typically an art historical one. Traditionally for instance, the Roman sojourns have been put forward as a good denominator.20 The different generations of painters leaving for and returning from Italy and their grade of understanding the basic principles of the Renaissance then form the backbone of the analysis of the turbulent century. In recent decades however, more diverse stylistic and socio-economic approaches have been made as well.21 Focusing on process and product innovations, these approaches attempted to explain the genesis of a kaleidoscope of new genres and styles in sixteenth-century Antwerp. However, as this too brief synthesis of the complex life of Michiel Coxcie shows, being an artist in sixteenth-century Antwerp was far more complex than learning to understand the visual idiom of Antiquity in Italy or being economically competitive in a booming metropolis. Neither an Italian sojourn nor an economic innovation, nor a religious or political affiliation fully determined the artistic identity of singular artists. It was always a combination thereof, and of many other artistic denominators, such as technique, theoretical framework or even family relations and personal friendships.22 The much-discussed stylistic Babylon of Antwerp art in the sixteenth century thus was as much the result of the artistic conundrum created by the confrontation of two completely different approaches to mimesis (the Northern and the Italian) as of the constantly changing societal circumstances in that era.23 In other words, the Babylonian confusion of speech that characterises Antwerp art of the sixteenth century 20 E.g. Jos Koldeweij, Alexandra Hermesdorf & Paul Huvenne et al., De Schilderkunst der Lage Landen vol. 1: De Middeleeuwen en de zestiende eeuw, Amsterdam, 2006–2007; Hans Vlieghe, Cyriel Stroo & Hilde Van Gelder, Vlaamse meesters: zes eeuwen schilderkunst, Leuven, 2004. 21 E.g. Larry Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes. 22 Maximiliaan P. J. Martens, “Antwerp Painters: their market and networks”, in ExtravagAnt!, pp. 47–74; Natasja Peeters (ed.), Invisible Hands? The Role and Status of the Painter’s Journeyman in the Low Countries C. 1450 – C. 1650 (Groningen Series in Cultural Change, 23), Leuven, 2007. 23 Bart A. M. Ramakers (ed.), Understanding Art in Antwerp: Classicising the Popular, Popularising the Classic (1540–1580), Leuven, 2011. In this volume, esp. Joanna Woodall, “Lost in Translation? Thinking About the Classical and the Vernacular Art in Antwerp, 1540–1580”, in Understanding Art in Antwerp, pp. 1–24. See also Christine Gôttler, Bart A. M. Ramakers & Joanna Woodall

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is as much a demonstration of artistic creativity in complicated times as it is a testimony to the lost stylistic and iconographic coherence in visual narratives. 11.3. Strong Foundations Let us now, with this paradigm of intricate interferences in mind, have another look at the major artistic innovations of the sixteenth century in Antwerp from the times of Quinten Massys to the age of the Francken family and the redefining of the Catholic faith after the Fall of Antwerp in 1585.24 In sum, three major caesurae can be determined, which – accidently or not – coincided with major ruptures in the political-religious, socio-economic and intellectual situation. In a first phase, which ended somewhere in the late 1530s, Antwerp placed itself on the map as a centre of artistic entrepreneurship.25 Carved retables and panels painted by the so-called ‘Antwerp mannerists’ were produced in large quantities and shipped across Europe in these early decades of the century. Stylistically attributable to the art of the later Northern Renaissance masters, the retables and panels of these mostly anonymous craftsmen tapped in on the appeal of the more renowned Netherlandish artists of the previous generation (e.g. Gerard David and Hans Memling), and turned it into a commercial success.26 These works are characterised by exquisite material qualities, but lack the focus on ‘inventio’ and ‘emulatio’, which had become compulsory in the major centres of Renaissance art in Italy by then. Moreover, they tended to stick to the well-known bestsellers, varying on a limited number of mainly religious themes, the Adoration of the Magi being the most popular subject (Fig. 11.2).27 For these reasons, the bulk of panels, triptychs, drawings produced in this era has long been dismissed as uninteresting.28 Only with the growing interest in technical and economic art history in the 1990s has this enormous corpus of works been re-evaluated. Workshop and production schemes in particular have been put forward as the fertile humus of contemporary and later innovations. Moreover, this was the first generation of Netherlandish (eds), Trading Values in Early Modern Antwerp, Leiden, 2014; James J. Bloom, “The Transformation of vernacular expression in Early Modern Arts”, in Intersections, eds Joost M. Keizer & Todd M. Richardson, Leiden, 2011, pp. 339–71. 24 On the life and times of Massys see: Larry Silver, The Paintings of Quinten Massys. With Catalogue Raisonné, Oxford, 1984. On the Francken Family see Natasja Peeters, “Tussen continuïteit en vernieuwing. De bijdrage van Frans en Ambrosius Francken I en de jonge generatie Francken tot de Historieschilderkunst te Antwerpen. Ca. 1570–1620”, unpublished doctoral thesis, Free University Brussels, 1999–2000; Natasja Peeters, “Frans I and Ambrosius I Francken. Painters of the Metropolis Antwerp and their Altarpieces in the years just after the Fall of Antwerp (1585–1589)”, in Jaarboek van het Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten van Antwerpen, 2003, pp. 69–91. 25 Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the Market. 26 Kristin Lohse Belkin & Nico Van Hout (eds), ExtravagAnt!. 27 Dan Ewing, “Magi and Merchants: The force behind the Antwerp Mannerists’ Adoration pictures”, in Extravagant!, pp. 275–99. 28 Annick Born, “Antwerp Mannerism. A Fashionable Style?”, pp. 10–29.

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Figure 11.2. Antwerp Mannerist, Adoration of the Magi (c. 1520), New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Helen L. Bullard, in memory of Harold C. Bullard, 1921.

artists, which started to look at the new medium of woodcuts and engravings as a source of inspiration, especially prints from Albrecht Dürer (Fig. 11.3). Due to his many high-quality prints in which the Northern European and Italian characteristics were merged and a celebrated visit to the Low Countries in 1521, the Nürenberg painter had become famous. Although the use of these international models often seems like immature sampling, it clearly testifies to the openness towards new international trends, and as such it set the standards for later generations.

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Figure 11.3. Albrecht Dürer, Saint Christopher (1511), Ghent, Ghent University Library.

Most artists of the period remain anonymous; others have been tentatively identified. Jan de Beer and the Master of 1518,29 for instance, were two highly qualified painters. Yet, some also stood out as exceptionally inventive – a standard of quality which was introduced in the Italian Renaissance.30 They opened new horizons in inducing new subject matter and creating an exceptional stylistic idiom. Quinten Massys, no doubt, was the most important figure in this respect. Nearly one hundred years after his death, he was already celebrated by Rubens and his contemporaries as the ‘founder’ of the ‘Antwerp school of art’. Born in Leuven, he moved to Antwerp in 1491 and died in 1530. He proved himself a genuine humanist, introducing themes in painting that had been popularised in humanist circles by his contemporary Desiderius Erasmus – whom he also portrayed – and re-inventing familiar themes. In doing so he turned well-known

29 Dan Ewing, “Jan de Beer’s lifetime reputation and posthumous fate”, in Journal of Historians of Netherlandish Art, 7, 2, 2015, (online journal); Annick Born, Essai d’analyse critique du maniérisme anversois de Max Jacob Friedländer suivi d’une révision du groupe des oeuvres du Maître de 1518, unpublished doctoral thesis, Ghent University, 2010. 30 On inventio as a Renaissance concept see Rensselaer Wright Lee, Ut Pictura Poesis, The Humanistic Theory of Painting, New York, 1967; on the chances in the sixteenth century in Italy, see especially Robert Williams, Art, Theory, and Culture in sixteenth century Italy. From Techne to Metatechne, Cambridge, 1997.

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Figure 11.4. Quinten Massys, Money changer and his wife (1514), Paris, Musée du Louvre.

biblical stories into profane scenes for instance, confronting contemporaries with pertaining questions on morality, religion, civility, i.e. some of the prevailing societal discussions at the time (Fig. 11.4). His inventions were a major success. Derivative panels were still being produced in large quantities by the middle of the century, by among others his son, Jan Massys.31 Moreover, Massys experimented with caricature around the same time as Leonardo da Vinci did, illustrating his fascination for similar topics.32 Massys also collaborated with his friend Joachim Patinir. Patinir did not become renowned for the figures in his works – sometimes painted by Massys – nor for his creative adaptations of Dürer’s inventions. Patinir changed the Antwerp art scene by turning the background into the foreground and, in doing so, introducing the genre of landscape painting (Fig. 11.5).33 His impressive landscapes were embedded in an atmospheric perspective (an earlier northern innovation in art), overwhelming the narrative. Pieter Bruegel the Elder and many others would further enhance this new genre, paving the way for a genre

31 Leontine Buijnsters-Smets, Jan Massys. Een Antwerps schilder uit de zestiende eeuw, Zwolle, 1995. 32 Lorne Campbell, Miguel Falomir, Jennifer Fletcher & Luke Syson, Renaissance Faces. Van Eyck to Titian, London, 2008, pp. 228–31. 33 Alejandro Vergara (ed.), Patinir: essays and critical catalogue, Madrid, 2007.

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Figure 11.5. Joachim Patinir, Landscape with Charon Crossing the Styx (c. 1519–1524), Madrid, Museo del Prado.

that would later become one of the most popular ones in art history.34 When, later on, Aertsen chose to inverse background and foreground of domestic scenes, he opened the gate to still-life painting.35 In Massys’s and Patinir’s footsteps, several painters of international allure were attracted to the city of Antwerp for shorter or longer periods of time. Their input further strengthened the many successful workshops active in the city. Jan Gossart for instance, lived in Antwerp from circa 1503 (when he was registered as a master in the Liggeren), but settled in Middleburg and later Utrecht after his brief visit to Italy (1508–1509).36 When still in Antwerp, he worked in the mannerist style. After his return, in the protective entourage of Philip of Bourgundy in the Northern Netherlands, he started to experiment with full nudes inspired by antique sculpture and mythological subjects and became one of the most celebrated artists of the century (Fig. 11.6). The Bruges painters Gerard David and Adriaen Provoost, who still surfed the wave of Bruges’s grand renown, opened workshops in Antwerp, which by then was becoming an important

34 The literature on landscape painting in the sixteenth century is vast. Noteworthy contributions are: Reindert L. Falkenburg, Joachim Patinir: Landscape as an Image of the Pilgrimage of Life, Amsterdam and Philadelphia, 1988; Boudewijn Bakker, Landscape and Religion from Van Eyck to Rembrandt, Burlington, 2012. 35 Cf. infra. 36 On Gossart see: Maryan W. Ainsworth, Stijn Alsteens & Nadine M. Orenstein, Man, Myth, and Sensual Pleasures: Jan Gossart’s Renaissance, New Haven and New York, 2010; Marisa Bass, Jan Gossart and the Invention of Netherlandish Antiquity, Princeton, 2016.

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Figure 11.6. Jan Gossart, Saint-Luke painting the Virgin (c. 1515), 230 × 205 cm. Národní Galerie, Prague.

artistic production centre.37 Adriaen Isenbrandt used the emerging port city as a hub for export to Spain.38 After this first generation of Antwerp painters a second generation of which the friends Pieter Coecke van Aelst39 and Joos van Cleve40 stood out as the exponents entered the stage. While most of their contemporaries continued to work in the successful Antwerp mannerist style, they both explored new horizons and created new opportunities, in life and in work.41 Coecke, for instance, apart from his successful Antwerp workshop, worked for Charles V, and visited Italy and Constantinople. Joos van Cleve seems to have had good 37 Philippe Rombouts & Théodore F. X. Van Lerius, De Liggeren en andere historisch archieven der Antwerpse St.-Lucasgilde, pp. 83 and 114. 38 Maximiliaan Martens et al., “Adriaen Isenbrant”, Brugge en de Renaissance. Van Memling tot Pourbus, Gent – Brugge, 1998, pp. 120–41. 39 Elizabeth A. H. Cleland, Maryan W. Ainsworth, Stijn Alsteens, Nadine Orenstein et al., Grand Design: Pieter Coecke Van Aelst and Renaissance Tapestry, New York – New Haven, 2014. 40 John O. Hand, Joos Van Cleve. The Complete Paintings, New Haven and London, 2004. 41 Micha Leeflang, Joos Van Cleve: A Sixteenth-Century Antwerp Artist and His Workshop (Me fecit, 8), Turnhout, 2015.

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contacts in France, where Italian pupils of Da Vinci, Raphael and Michelangelo were active in Fontainebleau on behalf of King François I.42 During the reign of Charles V, the Netherlands slowly opened their borders. Interest in other cities, regions and countries grew, stimulating further economic entrepreneurship but also artistic curiosity. Coecke and Van Cleve were innovative in varying respects. Coecke translated some architectural treatises and functioned more or less as a grand designer rather than a painter (literally). Van Cleve re-calibrated Italian models such as the Madonna with the Cherries by Da Vinci’s pupil Giampietrino or Dürer’s St Jerome, adding a Northern Copia (Fig. 11.8).43 However, both of them also capitalised on the opportunities created by the new appeal of religion (fed by the spreading Lutheran movement of reform), the spreading humanism and the economic prosperity at the height of the reign of Emperor Charles V, a benefactor of the arts in the best Burgundian tradition. Coecke’s many versions of the Last Supper waded into the intense societal-religious debate on the Eucharist (Fig. 11.7). Van Cleve’s numerous named depictions of St Jerome were embedded in discussions on Bible translations, scholasticism and humanism. In the shadow of the giant painterly productions of these flagship artists and the large fleet of anonymous workshops, an impressive number of sculpted retables were also being produced in Antwerp. Sometimes, these retables were even a combination of sculpted scenes and painted wings. These physically impressive triptychs or polyptychs were typically collaborative workshop efforts (like many of the painted panels of Antwerp mannerists).44 They were produced in vast quantities and exported across Northern Europe. Characterised by the abundance of Renaissance gothic ornament, which serves as an architectural framework in which the figures are placed in packed scenes, they typically depict the same themes as the mannerists’ panels: Adorations, Nativities or Crucifixions, supplemented with Old Testament pre-figurations or other scenes taken from the same Gospel stories on the wings. The success of these magnificent retables would last until the 1530s. By that time, the Italian Renaissance idiom started to conquer most of Europe and to replace the taste for the “Renaissance gothic”.45 Moreover, it is on the international reputation of the high quality sculpture of these mostly anonymous masters that later Renaissance sculptors like Cornelis II Floris would build their success, as we will see. In this early phase of Antwerp sculpture, the artists experimenting

42 Cécile Scailliérez, (ed.), François Ier et l’art des Pays-Bas, Paris, 2017–2018. 43 e.g. John O. Hand, “Saint Jerome in his study by Joos Van Cleve”, in A Tribute to Robert A. Koch. Studies in the Northern Renaissance, ed. Gregory T. Clarck, Princeton, 1994, pp. 53–68. 44 Ria De Boodt & Ulrich Schäfer, Vlaamse Retabels. 45 Ethan Matt Kavaler, “Renaissance Gothic in the Netherlands: The Uses of Ornament”, in The Art Bulletin, 82, 2, 2000, pp. 226–51; Ethan Matt Kavaler, Renaissance Gothic: The Authority of Ornament, 1470–1540, New Haven, 2012.

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Figure 11.7. Pieter Coecke van Aelst, Last supper (1531), Brussels, Royal Museum of Fine Arts.

Figure 11.8. Joos van Cleve, St Jerome (1521), Cambridge (MA), Harvard Art Museums.

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with the all’Antica style, such as Jean Mone, were mainly active in the ambience of Emperor Charles V and his entourage, especially in Mechelen and Brussels.46 Unlike panel painters and the makers of carved altarpieces, Antwerp printmakers at the time could not boast the same international recognition. While print production was certainly up to standards by the early decades of the sixteenth century – at least in quantity – the artistic quality and the innovative styles and iconographies that one could find in Southern German and Italian prints from the period were still lacking.47 Printmaking in Antwerp, so to speak, had not yet been explored as a seminal artistic endeavour. Devotional prints, which were not primarily produced for their artistic value, dominated the market. Only when Hiëronymus Cock, a son of the mannerist painter Jan Wellens de Cock, opened his printmaking workshop Aux Quatre Vents in 1548–1549 would the artistic possibilities of the new medium be fully explored in Antwerp too.48 As a veritable entrepreneur, he played a key role in the distribution of Italian Renaissance prints in Antwerp and, vice versa, the export of Antwerp innovations of Bruegel, Floris and others around the world. He capitalised on the Antwerp experience in product and process innovation and was constantly creating new outlet options. The network he had built, partially during his Italian sojourn, proved extremely helpful. He could boast about the collaboration of such famous Italian draughtsmen and engravers as Giorgio Ghisi (Fig. 11.9). 11.4. Opening up the Arcades With the opening of, among other things, the Schilderspand in 1540, the opening of Aux Quatre Vents in 1548–1549, and Cornelis II Floris’s return to Antwerp around 1538, things radically changed. A group of painters and sculptors who had travelled in Europe and Italy, sometimes sojourning for years in Rome, returned or was about to return.49 Coxcie and Cornelis II Floris were named, but between circa 1535 and 1560 Frans Floris, Maarten de Vos, Pieter Bruegel the Elder and other emerging stars came back too. They settled in Antwerp and set new standards, introducing the principles of Antique art as it had been re-invented in the Roman-Florentine Renaissance of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Some of them, like Michiel Coxcie and Frans Floris, made 46 E.g. C. Lemaire, “Projet de funérailles pour un chevalier de la Toison d’Or: Antoine de Lalaing (1480–1540). Jan Mone et le tombeau de Lalaing et d’Isabeau de Culemburg dans l’église SainteCatherine de Hoogstraten”, in Revue belge d’archéologie et d’histore de l’art, 75, 2006, pp. 93–116; Krista De Jonge, “The Court Architect as Artist in the Southern Low Countries 1520–1560”, in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 59, 2009, pp. 111–35. 47 Jan Van Der Stock, Printing Images in Antwerp. The Introduction of Printmaking in a City: Fifteenth Century to 1585, Rotterdam, 1998. 48 Joris Van Grieken, Ger Luijten & Jan Van Der Stock (eds), Hieronymus Cock: The Renaissance in Print, Brussels and New Haven, 2013. 49 The most complete overview is still to be found in Hans Devisscher (ed.), Fiamminghi a Roma, 1508–1608. More recent but inaccurate is: Nicole Dacos, Voyage à Rome: Les artistes européens au XVIe siècle, Brussels, 2012.

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Figure 11.9. Hiëronymus Cock, The Coloseum (1551), ets, 207 mm × 278 mm. Amsterdam, Rijksprentenkabinet.

a radical break with the traditional mannerist narratives.50 Others tried to find fusion styles in the tradition of Joos van Cleve and Pieter Coecke. Yet others, such as Pieter Bruegel for instance, re-invented the visual idiom of such masters as Jheronymus Bosch. Moreover, experimental new genres and iconographies, such as peasant scenes, which had seen the light of day earlier in some more exceptional paintings made on commission and especially in printmaking, were now turned into commercial successes and often produced on spec.51 The named Schilderspand, housed on the second floor of the Bourse – Antwerp’s stock market – no doubt played a crucial role in this economic artistic boom. While panden, where artists and other craftsmen could sell their goods on a permanent basis – were not new in Antwerp, they had always been run by the Church.52 Apparently in 1540, the painters’ guild of St Luke was fed up with the strict regulations and decided to found its own market place. This decision seems to have had three major implications.53 The first is that painters themselves now decided, more or less

50 On Frans Floris see Edward H. Wouk, Frans Floris (1519/20–70): Imagining a Northern Renaissance, Leiden, 2018. 51 An intro to this much discussed topic is to be found in Larry Silver, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes. 52 Filip Vermeylen, Painting for the Market. 53 Koenraad Jonckheere, “Nudity on the Market: Some Thoughts on the Market and Innovations in Sixteenth Century Antwerp”, in Aemulatio. Imitation, Emulation and Invention in Netherlandish Art from 1500 to 1800. Essays in Honor of Eric Jan Sluijter, eds Anton W. A. Boschloo, Jacquelyn N. Courté, Stephanie S. Dickey & Nicolette C. Sluijter-Seijfert, Zwolle, 2011, pp. 25–36.

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independently, on the terms and conditions of their sales, which created more artistic freedom to experiment and provided the opportunity to emancipate themselves from Christian subjects. While it cannot be proven, it is interesting to note that the big boom of ‘secular’ painting fell in the 1540s. Second, it was yet another major incentive for production on spec, leading to more innovation (one wanted to stand out amid the works of colleagues) and copying. Third, the small shops in the Schilderspand needed to be staffed. These shopkeepers became de facto art dealers, who, in their own right, created new incentives for innovation, trying to explore new markets, locally and internationally. After all, the bourse was a place visited by international merchants and bankers on a daily basis. The Schilderspand proved to be very successful and was supplemented with a Tapissierspand as of 1554–1555.54 This high tide of Antwerp’s Renaissance art lasted about a quarter of a century. It started around 1540 and was abruptly ended in 1566 when the beeldenstorm reached Antwerp. Its peak, no doubt, was the extraordinary collaborative effort on the occasion of the Joyous Entry of Philip II in 1549 (Fig. 11.10).55 In this massive event, all major artist joined forces under the guidance of old Pieter Coecke to build a whole series of triumphal arches. The event was even published a year later as the “De triumphe van Antwerpen”. Another major celebration of Antwerp’s “Conste” was the Rhetoricians’ contest of 1561.56 The celebrations were short-lived. On 20 August 1566, the churches of Antwerp were cleansed and art destroyed (Fig. 11.11). Coxcie, Frans Floris, Willem Key, Jan Sanders Van Hemessen, Cornelis Floris and the other leading artists of the mid-sixteenth century saw many of their most prestigious panels being smashed to pieces overnight. A couple of epitaphs and altarpieces were saved. Most were not. The iconoclastic riots of 1566 nonetheless could not have come as a complete surprise. Religious unrest had hit the city long before 1566 and the discussion on images and devotion to them had been part of the Reformation since Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, a friend and early ally of Martin Luther, had published his Von abtuhung der bylder in 1522. Iconoclasm subsequently hit parts of Germany, Switzerland, England and France and pamflets, leaflets, and infuriating sermons had become part of daily life by the summer of 1566, also in Antwerp. Calvinists, the most fervent image opponents, were by then an important factor in the city’s populace. Several artists even sympathised with reformers, either Lutheran or Calvinist.

54 Allison C. Evans, Het Tapissierspand: Interpreting the Success of the Antwerp Tapestry Market in the 1500s, unpublished doctoral thesis, Duke University, 2012. 55 e.g. Mark Meadow, “‘Met geschickter ordenen’: The Rhetoric of Place in Philip II’s 1549 Antwerp ‘Blijde Incompst’”, in The Journal of the Walters Art Gallery, 57, 1999, pp. 1–11; Stijn Bussels, Spectacle, Rhetoric and Power: The Triumphal Entry of Prince Philip of Spain into Antwerp, Amsterdam, 2012. See also chapter 2 in this volume. 56 Ruud Ryckaert, De Antwerpse spelen van 1561: naar de editie Silvius (Antwerpen 1562) uitgegeven met inleiding, annotaties en registers, 2 vol., Ghent, 2011.

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Figure 11.10. Pieter Coecke, De Triumphe van Antwerpen / Le triumphe d’Anvers faict en la susception du Prince Philips Prince d’Espaign Should be d’Espaigne, Antwerp (Gillis van Diest), 1550 – Der stadt Triumphelijcke stellagie opte Coepoortbrugge

Figure 11.11. Frans Hogenberg, The Iconoclasm of August 20 1566 (1588), Amsterdam, Rijkmuseum, RP-P-OB-77.720.

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Iconoclasm hit the Antwerp art scene hard, physically and psychologically.57 Art was not banned, but artists had to find new means to cope with the implicit and explicit refutations. The major public commissions almost came to a standstill and the dozens of pamphlets published in the vernacular on the pros and cons of art, especially religious art, instigated a theoretical public debate.58 A new theoretical grounding had to be found if art wanted to survive.59 If Antwerp art had sailed on the winds of economic prosperity before 20 August 1566; on 21 August the city was dead calm. Antwerp art had to reinvent itself once again. The image debate centred on some specific issues, especially the use, the materiality and the mimetic qualities of images. ‘Ghebruyck’ (or the ‘use’ and ‘abuse’ of images) was indeed one of the most intensely discussed issues. Physical veneration and worship were a bone of contention as it was considered proof by protestant factions that purely material objects made by human hands were somehow deified. Since humans are sinful and wood or stone is just wood or stone, this was considered a gross contamination of the spiritual and physical spheres. However, visual media were not completely dismissed since they were considered a good means of communication, yet the inventiveness of artists became an issue, as artists seemed to be able to create a non-existant world. How this alternative was to be related to God’s Creation, the ‘visual world’, was food for thought and debate. Age-old arguments (especially the ones developed during the Byzantine Iconoclasm), were further developed by the many polemicists into intriguing concepts on the nature of art. Moreover, these arguments and concepts were no longer part of an elitist discourse, but a societal one. The implications of this exceptionally intense societal debate have hardly been studied. Moreover, art historians have typically focused on the few theoretical writings (or, better, writings in which some sort of theoretical vocabulary was to be discovered),60 rather than this profound discourse on art. Here again, the strong focus on the Italian Renaissance has completely obfuscated the impact this intense debate must have had on artists. After all, it was their profession which was at stake. Thus, the celebrated artists of the middle of the century on the one hand benefitted from the benevolent economic circumstances, but on the other had to find means to deal with the new all’antica styles and art theoretical debates

57 Koenraad Jonckheere, Antwerp Art after Iconoclasm. 58 David Freedberg, Iconoclasm and Painting in the Revolt of the Netherlands. 1566–1609, New York and London, 1988. 59 On the art theoretic debates see, most recently: Hessel Miedema, Theorie en praktijk. Teksten over schilderkunst in de Gouden Eeuw van de Noordelijke Nederlanden, Hilversum, 2017, esp. pp. 23–38. Older relevant literature on sixteenth-century Netherlandish art theory is: Walter S. Melion, Shaping the Netherlandish Canon. Karel Van Mander’s Schilder-Boeck, Chicago and London, 1991; Jürgen Müller, Concordia Pragensis. Karel van Manders Kunsttheorie im Schilder-Boeck. Ein Beitrag zur Rhetorisierung von Kunst und Leben am Bei spiel der rudolfinischen Hofkünstler, Munich, 1993. 60 Typically Lucas d’Heere and Domenicus Lampsonius are forwarded as the two art theoreticians. See most recently, with an overview of the existing literature: Hessel Miedema, Theorie en praktijk, esp. pp. 23–38.

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Figure 11.12. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Tower of Babel (1563), Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum.

stemming from Italy, humanist discourse, the vibrant and growing religious debate on images. All factors were intertwined of course, but no clear answers were available. As a result, the most successful artists all searched for a way to deal with the opportunities, using all the options created by the complex circumstances to the full, combining possibilities. Some, like Pieter Bruegel, created works of art that addressed the religious-political turmoil in a seemingly non-elitist manner (Fig. 11.12). Others, like Frans Floris, developed an Italianate style and produced panels in large quantities in extensive workshops. Yet others, like Willem Key, capitalised on the benefits of the northern technique (oil) and combined them with Netherlandish compositions and an Italianate style. In sum, unlike the previous generation, most artists active in the period developed distinct, recognisable signature styles, which can be seen as the sediment of a stylistic Babylon indeed, yet also testify to exceptional inventiveness under different circumstances. This certainly is the case if one opens the scope of quality assessment in art, taking factors other than style and iconography into account. If one is to believe the biographer Karel van Mander, all named artists made good fortunes, building themselves impressive palazzi in the heart of the city. Frans Floris’ house or that of the sculptor Paludanus (Willem van den Broeck) stood out for their rich decorations, which celebrated the arts as liberal arts – a token of their intellectual ambitions.61 61 See Petra Maclot, The Status of Stone. Urban Identity and the Typological Discourse of Private Houses in the Antwerp City during the Long Sixteenth Century, unpublished doctoral thesis, KULeuven, 2014.

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The most currently celebrated artist of this generation is Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Championed in the nineteenth century as a proponent of the national school of painting, Bruegel’s fame has only risen since. Both his style and iconography stand out as truly exceptional, as he introduced an interesting blend of Boschian motives, all’Antica compositional features, genre subjects, larded with common humanist interests and insights. The result is an enigmatic œuvre of drawings, prints and paintings, which attests to superb technical skill and intellectual breadth in an idiosyncratic style. Although little is known about his personal life, it is clear that he was a personal friend of the leading Antwerp humanists, including Hiëronymus Cock, Abraham Ortelius, Christophel Plantin and the leading collector Nicolaes Jonghelinck.62 Nicolaes was the older brother of the renaissance sculptor Jacob Jonghelinck, famous for his tomb of Charles the Bold in Bruges and the destroyed statue of the Duke of Alba in the Antwerp Citadel, among other things.63 For unclear reasons, Bruegel left Antwerp for Brussels around 1563. Thereafter, he settled in the shadow of the Coudenberg palace and became a favorite of the Brussels elite, including the controversial Cardinal Granvelle, an internationally renowned Maecenas.64 Yet Bruegel’s departure did not have too much impact on the city. Alongside Bruegel, a whole range of artists had created established workshops, which produced large quantities of paintings for local and international markets, of course, but also print designs for newly founded publishing houses. Frans Floris no doubt was the most influential of this group (Fig. 11.13). He had sojourned Italy a decade earlier (c. 1541/1542–c. 1545) than Bruegel (c. 1552–1554), after studying with his father (Cornelis I) and Lambert Lombard first.65 Lombard had visited Italy earlier and had established a sort of academy in Liège where he taught the new principles of art to students flocking in from all over the Low Countries.66 After his stay in Liège Floris left for Italy. Upon his return, he settled in his native Antwerp and built a large workshop modelled after the Italian workshops of al fresco painters.67 In doing so, he was able to produce 62 On this network see: Tine Meganck, Erudite Eyes: Friendship, Art and Erudition in the Network of Abraham Ortelius (1527–1598), Leiden, 2017. 63 Luc Smolderen, La statue du duc d’Albe à Anvers par Jacques Jonghelinck (1571), Brussels, 1972. 64 On Granvelle as a collector: Jacqueline Brunet & Gennaro Toscano (eds), Les Granvelle et l’Italie au XVIe siècle: le mécénat d’une famille. Actes du colloque international organisé par la Section d’italien de l’Université de Franche-Comté, Besançon, 2–4 octobre 1992, Besançon, 1996; Claudia Banz, Höfisches Mäzenatentum in Brüssel. Kardinal Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle (1517–1586) und die Erzherzöge Albrecht (1559–1621) und Isabella (1566–1633) Berlin, 2000; Simon-Pierre Dinard, “La collection du cardinal Antoine de Granvelle (1517–1586). L’inventaire du palais Granvelle de 1607”, in Les cardinaux de la Renaissance et la modernité artistique, eds Frédérique Lemerle, Yves Pauwels & Gennaro Toscano, Villeneuve d’A scq, 2009, pp. 157–68. 65 On Floris see: Edward H. Wouk, Frans Floris (1519/20–70): Imagining a Northern Renaissance, Leiden, 2018. 66 Godelieve Denhaene, Lambert Lombard. Renaissance en Humanisme te Luik, Antwerpen, 1990; Godelieve Denhaene (ed.), Lambert Lombard. Peintre de la Renaissance (Liège 1505/06–1566). Essais interdisciplinaires et Catalogue de l’exposition, Brussels, 2006; Edward H. Wouk, “Reclaiming the Antiquities of Gaul: Lambert Lombard and the History of Northern Art”, in Simiolus 36, 1/2, 2012, pp. 35–65. 67 Carl Van de Velde, Frans Floris (1518/1519). Leven en Werken, 2 vols., Brussels, 1975.

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Figure 11.13. Frans Floris, The Awakening of the Arts (c. 1560), Ponce, Museo de Arte.

large quantities of panels mostly featuring new subjects (such as mythological topics) and a distinct style based on the later work of Raphael and Michelangelo, which he had become familiar with in Rome. At the same time, he was able to safeguard many prestigious commissions, including altarpieces in Our Lady’s Church and works for the emerging class of private collectors (liefhebbers), such as Nicolas Jonghelinck. His many students kept on emulating this so-called Floris style in the decades following his death in 1570.68 A competitor and friend to Floris was Willem Key, who also studied with Lombard in Liège, but who seems to have returned to Antwerp immediately, skipping the Italian journey (Fig. 11.14). Apparently acquainted with Italian models and Antiquity via Lombard’s work and Netherlandish collections, including the imperial collections of Charles V, he managed to develop a recognisable style, which characteristically features high quality, glazing brushwork, Netherlandish compositions and all’antica figures and adornments. He, too, produced workshop copies, but unlike Frans Floris not in large quantities and not with different signature marks. After all, Frans Floris famously differentiated invention and execution in his signatures. Along these lines Jan Sanders van Hemessen and Quinten Massys’s most successful son, Jan Massys, also succeeded in establishing a good reputation and a substantial production. Jan Massys elaborated on the successes of his father’s inventions on the one hand, producing workshop copies

68 Carl Van de Velde, “Frans Pourbus the Elder and the diffusion of the Style of Frans Floris in the Southern Netherlands”, in Die Malerei Antwerpens. Gattung, Meister, Wirkungen. Studien Zur Flämischen Kunst Des 16. Und 17. Jahrhunderts, eds Ekkehard Mai & Hans Vlieghe, Cologne, 1994, pp. 11–7.

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Figure 11.14. Willem Key, Last Supper, Dordrecht, Dordrechts museum.

and variants, but also proved to be highly original himself. Inspired by Northern Italian painting (Genoa, Venice, …) he produced desirable history paintings, depicting the new, popular Old Testament themes, especially on seduction and desire: Lot, Susanna, Bathsheba, Judith…(Fig. 11.16)69 Jan Sanders van Hemessen likewise tapped into these fancy topics, and blended them with the newly developed idiosyncrasies of genre painting (Fig. 11.15).70 Some of the most innovative work in this respect was produced by Pieter Aertsen.71 Aertsen moved from Amsterdam to Antwerp in 1535 (entry as a master in the Guild of St Luke) and stayed there until his return to his native city circa 1556–1557. Aertsen produced – prior to Bruegel – domestic scenes and peasant scenes in which the so-called bijwerk (anecdotal details) was literally brought to the front. The religious topic was banished to the background (Fig. 11.17).

69 Leontine Buijnsters-Smets, Jan Massys. Een Antwerps schilder uit de zestiende eeuw, Zwolle, 1995. 70 Burr Wallen, Jan Van Hemessen. An Antwerp Painter between Reform and Counter-Reform, Ann Arbor, 1983; More recent analyses of singular works: Todd M. Richardson, “Early Modern Hands: Gesture in the Work of Jan van Hemessen”, in Imago Exegetica. Visual Images as Exegetical Instruments. 1400–1700, eds Walter S. Melion, James Clifton & Michel Weemans, Leiden, 2014, pp. 293–320; Brett L. Rothstein, “Jan van Hemessen’s Anatomy of Parody”, in The Anthropomorphic Lens. Anthropomorphism, Microcosmism and Analogy in Early Modern Thought and Visual Arts, eds Walter S. Melion, Brett L. Rothstein & Michel Weemans, Leiden, 2015, pp. 457–79. 71 The literature on Aertsen is vast, but mainly deals with the analysis of his work. A recent monograph is missing. Some notable (more recent) articles are: Margreet A. Sullivan, “Aertsen’s kitchen and market scenes: audience and innovation in northern art”, in The Art Bulletin, 81, 2, 1999, pp. 236–66; Wouter Kloek, “Pieter Aertsen, el artista y su impacto”, in La senda española de los artistas flamencos, eds J. Barón et al., Madrid, 2009, pp. 265–86; Margret A. Sullivan, “Bruegel the Elder, Pieter Aertsen, and the Beginnings of Genre”, in The Art Bulletin, 93, 2, 2011, pp. 127–49.

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Figure 11.15. Jan Sanders van Hemessen, The Calling of Saint Matthew (c. 1548), Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum.

Figure 11.16. Jan Massys, David and Bathsheba (1562), Paris, Musée du Louvre.

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Figure 11.17. Pieter Aertsen, Christ in the house of Mary and Martha (1553), Rotterdam, Museum Boijmans van Beuningen.

With his swift and very thin brushwork, Aertsen created an opening for what later – when fully detached from any historical narrative – became still life painting. Joachim Beuckelaer followed in his footsteps. Innumerable studies have addressed the ‘meaning’ of the many genre paintings produced by Bruegel, Aertsen, Massys, Van Hemessen and their likes, ranging from highly erudite rhetorical gems via simple symbolic rebuses and moral stances to complex semiotic structures. As a result, it is safe to state that these genre scenes seem to have been rooted in the allegorical framework of sixteenth-century thinking, which was, to quote Erasmus, much like ‘a continuous metaphor’.72 Noteworthy as a painter, finally, is Cornelis van Dalem (Fig. 11.18). He was a merchant and amateur painter who was befriended by the named artists and who managed to leave a small but peculiar œuvre. Little studied, the paintings of this notorious reformer stand out for their technical delicacy and innovative iconographies.73 Besides the painters, Antwerp sculptors too were members of the famous guild of St Luke. It is little known that they could boast some of the most productive and sought-after sculptors in Europe. Indeed, while art history has focused on the success of such painters as Giambologna (who was also a native of the Low Countries), the most prolific sculptors in the rest of Europe in the 72 Desiderius Erasmus, On Copia of Words and Ideas (De Utraque Verborem ac Rerum Copia), Trans. Donald B. King & Herbert D. Rix (Mediaeval Philosophical Texts in Translation), Milwaukee, 1963, Chapter VXIII. 73 Nils Büttner, “Cornelis van Dalem und die niederländische Landschaftskunst zur Zeit Philipps II”, in Zwischen Lust und Frust. Die Kunst in den Niederlanden und am Hof Philipps II. Van Spanien (1527–1598), eds Caecilie Weissert et al., Cologne, 2013, pp. 49–66.

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Figure 11.18. Cornelis van Dalem, Landscape with a ruin (1564), München, Alte Pinakothek.

mid-sixteenth century were Antwerp masters: Cornelis II Floris, Paludanus (i.e. Willem Van den Broeck), Jacob Jonghelinck and others. Cornelis II Floris in particular managed to acquire many important assignments across Central and Northern Europe.74 He developed his Floris style, which combined the verticality of Gothic architecture with the horizontality of Greco-Roman models and all’Antica figures. After an Italian sojourn he returned to Antwerp. He became the architect of the Town Hall, but also sold in the Netherlands, the German lands and even Denmark and Poland. Few sculptors in art history have ever been so prolific. Even less studied are the named masters Paludanus and Jonghelinck.75 They too were well-established masters with a certain renown. The remainder of their œuvres are more limited though. Much must have been destroyed during the iconoclastic fury of 1566. Sacrament houses, Jubés, sculpted retables?76 It is hard

74 Recent: Koen Ottenheym, “Sculptors’ Architecture”, pp. 103–27. 75 Jozef Duverger & M. J. Onghena, “Beeldhouwer Willem van den Broecke alias Guilielmus Paludanus (1530-tot 1579 of 1580)”, in Gentsche bijdragen tot de kunstgeschiedenis, 5, 1938, pp. 75–140; A. Jolly, “Netherlandish sculptors in sixteenth-century northern Germany and their patrons”, in Simiolus, 27, 1999, pp. 119–41; Alexandra Lipinska, “Alabastrum, id est, corpus hominis”, pp. 84–115. 76 e.g. Ruben Suykerbuyk & Anne-Laure Van Bruane, “Towering piety: sacrament houses, local patronage and an early Counter-Reformation spirit (1520–1566)”, in Netherlandish Sculpture of the 16th Century (Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 67), Leiden, 2017, pp. 118–59.

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to imagine what their œuvres must have looked like, besides the medals and occasional statues or bas-reliefs. No doubt important in the proliferation of Antwerp’s artistic renown in the middle of the century was Aux Quatre Vents, the publishing house of Hiëronymus Cock mentioned above.77 Cock succeeded in professionalising the print industry by aiming for high quality artistic prints, which were to be sold all over Europe. As a sort of art broker, he signed up the best artists from within (Bruegel, Floris, …) and beyond Antwerp (Ghisi, Stradanus, …), had their designs cut in copper by the best engravers, and financed the production of the prints and print series. From the ruins of Rome, through the victories of Charles V to the peasant scenes and landscapes of Pieter Bruegel, Cock’s impact on the image one has of Antwerp art in the sixteenth century can hardly be overestimated. 11.5. Searching for New Perspectives Antwerp’s ‘High Renaissance’ paradoxically did not end in the celebration of its virtues, but in the destruction of its icons. The abundant artistic, intellectual and economic successes that these named and many other artists had amassed by spring 1566 seems to have disappeared within a couple of months, one or two years at the most. Jan Sanders van Hemessen died in 1566, Willem Key died in 1568. Bruegel had already left the city long before the iconoclasm struck and died in 1569. Frans Floris and Hiëronymus Cock died in 1570, etc. A whole generation of highly successful artists left the stage in the confusing years following the beeldenstorm. Their many talented pupils were left in confusion and had to find a means to first safeguard their income (it was still largely dependent on religious art) and, second, find a solution to issues raised in the intrusive image debate. Such an answer, to be successful, had to find the approval of the moderates in the divergent factions. This last phase, which started with the iconoclasm of the beeldenstorm in 1566 and ended with Rubens’ return from Italy in 1608, is the most difficult one to understand fully. It is a black hole in the Art History of the Low Countries, more or less left out of nearly every overview and textbook. Scattered articles on singular altarpieces or traditional monographs are rare oases in a desert of ignorance.78 It is as if Art History in Antwerp stopped with the death of Pieter Bruegel the Elder in the wake of iconoclasm and, like a phoenix, arose when 77 See note 48. 78 Noteable are: Armin Zweite, Marten De Vos als Maler. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Antwerpener Malerei in der zweiten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1980; Ad Meskens, Familia Universalis. Coignet: Een familie tussen wetenschap en schilderkunst, Antwerp, 1995; Natasja Peeters, “Frans I and Ambrosius I Francken”; Natasja Peeters, Frans Francken de Oude (ca. 1542–1616). Leven en werken van een Antwerps historieschilder, Leuven, 2013; Koenraad Jonckheere, Adriaen Thomasz Key (ca. 1545 – ca. 1589). Portrait of a Calvinist Painter, Turnhout, 2007; Christopher P. Heuer, The City Rehearsed: Object, Architecture, and Print in the Worlds of Hans Vredeman de Vries (The Classical Tradition in Architecture), New York, 2009. Longtime the most seminal work dealing with this period was Zirka Zaremba Filipczak, Picturing Art in Antwerp. 1550–1700, Princeton, 1987.

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the grand star of the Northern Baroque returned to his hometown in 1608.79 In retrospect, Rubens’ return was framed in Art History as a triumphal entry into a city of mediocre painters, the evident result of his obvious superiority. The artistic and intellectual dominance of Peter Paul Rubens as of 1608, which is of course hard to ignore, throws a darkening shadow over his predecessors’ legacy indeed. Yet, looking at the state of art in Antwerp before Rubens’ departure in 1600 to the peninsula south of the Alps, the picture is much more nuanced. To be sure, many talented artists left – or had to leave – the country, but many remained as well. Antwerp had some excellent and internationally successful painters in the second half of the sixteenth century too. Thus, the traditional view that Rubens built his artistic empire on the ruins of iconoclasm clearly needs a thorough revision. The young and ambitious master partially built his œuvre on the intellectual ideas triggered by iconoclasm and instigated by the omnipresent image debates of the second half of the sixteenth century. Moreover, Rubens studied the art of his hometown intensely throughout his life.80 To some extent, he constructed his visual idiom on the experimental art of the ‘lost generation’ of painters. These masters worked in an exceptionally turbulent age, witnessing religious and political turmoil and iconoclasm. Trapped by the dramatic hate and love for images, they tried to construct a new visual narrative, stylistically and iconographically. Certainly before 1585, they could hardly count on major commissions. Their experiments resulted in a stylistic hodgepodge indeed.81 Yet, precisely these experiments and the creativity with which they found a way out of the economical backlash laid the foundations for younger generations to build on. Rubens distilled the best of it, blended it with Antiquity and Italian Renaissance art and built his fabulous career on this new stylistic idiom, larded with iconographic subtlety. Yet, not only was Rubens’ art grafted on his predecessor’ innovations. His economic genius too, was not entirely new. A group of enigmatic artists, hitherto classified under the name “Jacob de Backer”, had earlier produced a new product that could boast international success (Fig. 11.19). They focused their attention on the traditional narrative and devotional subjects, introducing new subjects (typically allegories), a new “international” style, and combining it with economical flexibility: large workshops, outsourcing, product differentiation, and most of it on canvas.82 Indeed, unlike their predecessor they produced large canvases, a cheaper medium which was easier to transport. This style was so-called because it matched the

79 Exemplary was the 1992 exhibition and catalogue Ekkehard Mai & Hans Vlieghe (eds), Von Bruegel bis Rubens. Das goldene Jahrhundert der flämische Malerei, Vienna, 1992. 80 Kristin Lohse Belkin, Rubens: Copies and Adaptations from Renaissance and Later Artists: German and Netherlandish Artists, 2 vols., London, 2009. 81 Koenraad Jonckheere, Antwerp Art after Iconoclasm; Eckhard Leuschner & Nils Büttner (eds), Rekonstruktion der Gesellschaft aus Kunst: Antwerpener Malerei und Graphik in und nach den Katastrophen des späten 16. Jahrhunderts, Studien Zur Internationalen Architektur- Und Kunstgeschichte, Petersberg, 2016. 82 Eckhard Leuschner, “Defining De Backer. New Evidence on the last Phase of Antwerp Mannerism before Rubens”, in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 6, 137, 2001, pp. 167–91.

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Figure 11.19. Jacob de Backer, Venus and Anchises, Meiningen, Meininger Museen.

visual idiom of artists in France (second school of Fontainebleau), Vienna and Prague (the court of Ruldoph II), and Italy. In France and at the Imperial court, many of the most successful artists had been trained in Antwerp. Hiëronymus Francken (Fontainebleau), for instance, or Bartholomeus Spranger (Vienna), Denijs Calvaert (Bologna) and Paolo Fiammingo (Venice).83 All were trained in Antwerp. The impact they all had on the early Baroque was truly impressive. This last phase of Antwerp painting, spanning the period between 1566 and 1608, can roughly be divided into two, based on the introduction given above. The first period coincides with the first two decades of the Dutch revolt. The second phase begins in 1585, when Antwerp was re-conquered by Alessandro Farnese for the king of Spain, Philip II, and the catholic restoration could commence. The years between 1566 and 1585 were the ones in which painters experimented with decorum. After 1585, this experiment abruptly stopped. Old traditional models were dusted off, to serve as the visual idiom of the early counter-reformation efforts. Michiel Coxcie, to return to him, was 86 years old and was given many crucial commissions for new altarpieces in Antwerp’s Our Lady’s Cathedral. One could hardly expect exciting new ideas from the celebrated master, but apparently his style, which had not changed much since the 1550s, was still deemed perfect for the job. In his wake, Frans and Ambrosius Francken, who were pupils of Frans

83 On these masters see Sally Metzler, Bartholomeus Spranger: Splendor and Eroticism in Imperial Prague. The Complete Works, New York, 2014; Simone Twiehaus, Dionisio Calvaert (Um 1540–1619): Die Altarwerke, Berlin, 2002; Andrew John Martin, “Augsburg, Prague and Venice at the end of the century”, in Renaissance Venice and the North. Crosscurrents in the time of Bellini, Dürer and Titian, Venice, 1999–2000, eds Bernard Aikema & Beverly L. Brown, pp. 619–21.

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Figure 11.20. Maarten de Vos, Saint Luke painting the Madonna (1602), Antwerp, Royal Museum of Fine Arts.

Floris, and especially Maerten De Vos84 also proved effective in creating new altarpieces, which pleased the old/new Counter-Reformatory rulers (Fig. 11.20). Hence, the period between 1566 and 1585 is the most difficult to apprehend. Little has survived. The period has hardly been studied.85 The result is a mishmash of facts which has barely been structured or questioned. The first decade after the beeldenstorm was clearly a decade of confusion. Staunch Catholics such as Michiel Coxcie were rapidly commissioned to produce a couple of new altarpieces to repair the destruction. Others sided with the Calvinist factions but nonetheless kept on producing altarpieces and even devotional panels. Adriaen Thomasz. Key, a pupil of Willem Key – who took over the workshop and the ‘brandname’ of his master – became a Calvinist. His friend Frans Pourbus the Elder, son of Pieter Pourbus of Bruges, did the same. Yet, both of them painted celebrated altarpieces, Key for the Gillis de Smidt in the Antwerp Recolletten church (Fig. 11.21). Pourbus for the chapel of Viglius ab Aytta in Ghent’s St Baafs, to name but two examples. 84 Zweite, Marten De Vos als Maler. 85 Koenraad Jonckheere, Antwerp Art after Iconoclasm.

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Figure 11.21. Adriaen Thomasz. Key, Last Supper (outer wings of the Gillis de Smidt-triptych) (1574), Antwerp, Royal Museum of Fine Arts.

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Figure 11.21. (Continued)

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Figure 11.22. Hans Vredeman de Vries and Gillis Mostaert, Paul and Barnabas in Lystra, Bremen, Ludwig Roselius Musem.

Gillis Coignet and Maarten de Vos sympathised with the Luthern faction, as did Vredeman de Vries (Fig. 11.22). Gillis Mostaert’s affinities are not entirely clear, but Karel Van Mander recounts the story of the painter ridiculing the portrait of the Holy Virgin. He will not have been a devout Catholic. Although these altarpieces at first sight seem ‘traditional’, they are full of iconographical subtleties and experiments in decorum, aiming at something one might coin: image ecumenism. To give but one example, in his Last Supper, Key questioned the problematic issue of the Eucharist, by changing the décor and consequently the decorum of the scene, turning a rich antique building into a poor, brownish cenacle.86 Yet, prestigious and well-paid commissions of churches, guilds, nobility and the city council had become exceptions. If they wanted to survive, painters had to secure an income via other channels. So they did. They further innovated the genres that had become so popular in Antwerp in the course of the sixteenth century. Key and Pourbus further developed the genre of portraiture, which had flourished under Massys, Van Cleve, Willem Key and especially Anthonis Mor.87 Inspired by the religious stances on mimesis they developed a strict and sober sort of portrait. Hans Vredeman de Vries developed the so-called scenographies, architectural perspectives of imaginary cities often supplemented 86 Koenraad Jonckheere, “Classical Architecture and the Communion Debate: The Iconography of Suggestion”, in Understanding Art in Antwerp, ed. Bart A. M. Ramakers, pp. 75–91. 87 Koenraad Jonckheere, “Portret en decorum”, in Renaissanceportretten uit de Lage Landen, eds Koenraad Jonckheere & Till-Holger Borchert, Brussels, 2015, pp. 11–23.

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with figures by Mostaert.88 Mostaert himself specialised in packed, small life genre scenes, and Gillis Coignet, who had spent time in Northern Italy, focused on allegorical scenes and history painting, introducing Titianesque compositions and brushwork.89 Some of his panels are straightforward pastiches of Titian’s work. Beside these artists who decided to stay in Antwerp, at least until 1585, several artists also fled to escape the political-religious chaos. The pictordoctus and polyglot Joris Hoefnagel, to name but one, left the city after the Sack of Antwerp in 1576.90 His well-to-do family was hard-hit. Outside Antwerp, Hoefnagel made an impressive career as a miniature painter. The situation completely changed in August 1585, when Farnese entered the city of Antwerp. The future was all but clear. The Patientia that the intellectual elite in Antwerp had shown in the turbulent decades following the beeldenstorm, the wonderjaer, the Duke of Alba’s violent passage and even the Calvinist republic, proved to offer no roadmap for the future.91 Catholicism was reinstalled, leaving reformers the option to leave or to be convicted. Many artists with Lutheran or Calvinist sympathies left.92 Others, most notably Maarten de Vos, stayed and reconverted to Catholicism. The age of experiment was over. A stable, traditional visual idiom was reinstalled, championing the old idiom of a very renowned and creative, but by then aging, artist as Michiel Coxcie as nec plus ultra. This period has been typified as both the epilogue to the Antwerp Renaissance and introduction to the grand triumph of Rubensian Baroque. It was both. In their intellectual ambitions painters like Otto van Veen – Rubens’ most influential master – aimed at reinstalling art as one of the foremost ‘conste’. Rubens would not have been Rubens without this humus. They tried to reconcile art theory with image theology, Italian styles with Netherlandish idioms and Antiquity with modernity.93 Stylistically and iconographically however, they missed the freshness and sharpness Rubens was able to deliver upon his return from Italy. The work of Otto van Veen for instance,94 or Adam van Noort lacked the inventiveness and technical

88 Christopher P. Heuer, The City Rehearsed. 89 Ad Meskens, Familia Universalis. Coignet: Een familie tussen wetenschap en schilderkunst, Antwerp, 1995. 90 Thea Vignau-Wilberg, Joris and Jacob Hoefnagel: Art and Science around 1600, Berlin, 2018. 91 Patientia was one of the virtues promoted by the so-called Family of Love. 92 Jan Briels, Vlaamse schilders en de dageraad van Hollands Gouden Eeuw. 1585–1630, Antwerp, 1997. 93 E.g. Ralph De Koninck, Agnes Guideroni-Brusle, Aline Smeesters, Physicae Et Theologicae Conclusiones by Vaenius (1621), Turnhout, 2018. 94 On Van Veen’s artistic oeuvre see: Hans Ost, “Unbekannte Werke von Otto van Veen”, in Wallraf-Richartz-Jahrbuch, 68, 2007, pp. 279–94 (with further references). On the emblems Peter Boot, “Playing and Displaying Love. Theatricality in Otto van Veen’s Amoris Divini Emblemata (Antwerp 1615)”, in Emblematica, 16, 2008, pp. 339–64; Natalie De Brézé, “From Putti to Angels: The Celestial Creatures in Otto Vaenius’ Painting and Emblems”, in Imago Exegetica, pp. 835–53 (with further references).

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virtuosity of their most celebrated pupil. And economically, Jacob de Backer who had popularised the ‘international’ style one or two decades earlier had paved the way. 11.6. Conclusion Using the word and concept ‘Renaissance’ as an analytical category for Antwerp painting in the sixteenth century is both revealing and problematic. It is revealing in its ability to showcase the growing impact of Italian and Antique models. Yet it is problematic, for it blurs the predominance of other major actors such as economic peculiarities, image theoretical debates, iconoclasm, persisting traditions and traditionalistic reflexes. If Antwerp art of the sixteenth century was anything, it was experimental. Whereas Italian art of the sixteenth century was, to some extent, contaminated by a sturdy theoretical debate, Antwerp art fully explored the possibilities of visual narratives. The visual strategies deployed by Floris and Bruegel could not be more different. Yet they both created a rinascimento of art that ultimately did what it is supposed to do: reinvigorate the visual narrative.

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Silks and the ‘Golden Age’ of Antwerp 12.1. Antwerp in the ‘Material Renaissance’ Undoubtedly, in recent decades one of the key areas of scholarly interest in the Renaissance has been its material culture and consumption.1 Attracted by the idea of a ‘material renaissance’ several scholars explored the very idea that late medieval and sixteenth-century consumption patterns would have been markedly different from medieval ones.2 This rich historiography did in fact build upon Jacob Burckhardt (1818–1897) who already identified late medieval Italy as a cradle of crucial material innovations.3 Burckhardt – to some extent the ‘inventor’ of the Renaissance – called to mind an intimate connection between everyday life, material culture and the rise of Renaissance culture in Italy. In multiple writings Richard Goldthwaite embroidered this idea.4 He discovered a new mentality in the Italian town, one that was shaping the consumption of both the urban nobility and patriciate.5 Over the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, eventually the interiors and the decoration of Italian palazzi and case became more complex, more refined, richer and more luxurious. Not only the built magnificenza, but also the objets d’art, the tableware and the furniture – that is to say, the splendore – increasingly contributed to the identity and sociability of the residents in Italian towns. Most importantly, the material renaissance increasingly credited ‘design’ rather than the intrinsic value of things; hence it contributed to a new experience of the very nature of materiality. However, quite a few of these material innovations





1 Consult for a recent historiographical review Bruno Blondé & Wouter Ryckbosch, “In ‘Splendid Isolation’. A Comparative Perspective on the Historiographies of the ‘Material Renaissance’ and the ‘Consumer Revolution’”, in History of Retailing and Consumption, 1 (2), 2015, pp. 105–24; Wouter Ryckbosch, “Early Modern Consumption History. Current Challenges and Future Perspectives”, in BMGN – The Low Countries Historical Review, 130 (1), 2015, pp. 57–84. 2 Samuel Cohn, “Renaissance Attachment to Things: Material Culture in Last Wills and Testaments”, in Economic History Review, 2012, pp. 984–1004; Paola Findlen, “Possessing the Past: The Material World of the Italian Renaissance”, in The American Historical Review, 103 (1), 1998, pp. 83–114; Michelle O’Malley & Evelyn Welch (eds), The Material Renaissance, Manchester, 2007; Marta Ajmar-Wollheim & Flora Dennis (eds), At Home in Renaissance Italy, London, 2006. 3 Jacob Burckhardt, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy, London, 1945, p. 227. 4 Richard Goldthwaite, Wealth and the Demand for Art in Italy, 1300–1600, Baltimore, 1993. 5 Richard Goldthwaite, “The Renaissance Economy: the Preconditions for Luxury Consumption”, in Aspetti della vita economica medievale, Atti del convegno di studi nel X anniversario della morte di Federigo Melis Firenze-Pisa-Prato, 10–14 marzo 1984, Florence, 1985, pp. 659–75; Richard Goldthwaite, “The Empire of Things: Consumer Demand in Renaissance Italy”, in Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, eds F. W. Kent & Patricia Simons, Oxford, 1987, pp. 153–75; Richard Goldthwaite, “The Economic and Social World of Italian Renaissance Maiolica”, in Renaissance Quarterly, 42 (1), 1989, pp. 1–32. Bruno Blondé, Jeroen Puttevils and Isis Sturtewagen • University of Antwerp Antwerp in the Renaissance, ed. by Bruno Blondé and Jeroen Puttevils, SEUH 49 (Turnhout, 2020), pp. 297-313.

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remained confined to the highest strata of society. Moreover, material goods continued to function as important assets and moral constraints impeded the growth of consumer markets. Hence, the question remains whether a social success story ought to be read into this ‘material renaissance’ narrative outright. In any case, Goldthwaite himself considered the income level in late medieval Italy to be too low and the distribution of wealth far too unequal for any broad consumption of this new material culture.6 Recent research on medieval Italy has qualified this elitist approach: the middling sort of people also took part in the attachment to things culture that originated in the late middle ages.7 These findings did not prevent Frank Trentmann from recently downplaying the innovative role of the renaissance consumer pattern, much for the reasons quoted above. It was only in the Northwest of Europe that a “more dynamic, innovative culture of consumption came to take hold in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries”.8 The supposed difference between this ‘northern’ material culture and the renaissance epoch was one of quantity and quality, the latter embodied by a rise in novelty, variety and availability. This argument markedly resonates with Jan de Vries’ claim for an industrious revolution for which the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic “certainly deserves consideration as a society in which new forms of material culture spread broadly through society and transformed the practice and experience of consumption”.9 Not only was the industrious revolution marked by an intensification of the allocation of household time to the production and consumption of market-mediated goods and services, it also implied the transition from an “old luxury” to a “new luxury model”. While the old luxury model was geared towards “leisure” and the “conspicuous consumption” of elites in society, the new luxury model was not necessarily preoccupied with social distinction per se, but appealed to a larger set of values, such as – among others – comfort and pleasure. The new luxuries were also cheaper, and thus enjoyed by ever larger groups in society than before. In his search for the origins of this ‘new luxury model’ Jan de Vries arrived in the Netherlands, where in the seventeenth century a bourgeois model of consumption originated, one that differed markedly from the old luxury model. The latter would still predominantly have been characterised by patronage, and was still largely in vigour in the urban economies of Flanders and Brabant, the urban heart of the Southern Netherlands in the seventeenth century. Golden

6 Goldthwaite, Wealth, p. 251. 7 Paola Hohti, “The Innkeeper’s Goods: The Use and Acquisition of Household Property in Sixteenth-Century Siena”, in The Material Renaissance, pp. 242–259, Paola Hohti, “‘Conspicuous’ consumption and popular consumers: material culture and social status in sixteenth-century Siena”, in Renaissance Studies, 24, 5, 2010, pp. 654–670, Sandra Cavallo, “The Artisan’s Casa. At Home in the Italian Renaissance”, in At Home, pp. 66–75. Blondé & Ryckbosch, “In ‘Splendid Isolation’”. 8 Frank Trentmann, Empire of Things - How we became a world of consumers from the fifteenth century to the twenty-first, London, 2016, p. 53. 9 Jan de Vries, The Industrious Revolution: consumer behavior and the household economy, 1650 to the present. Cambridge, 2008, p. 52.

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Age Antwerp, according to this historiography, would perfectly fit into the ‘material renaissance’ debate. Yet this idea of a fundamental consumer transition between the sixteenth and seventeenth-eighteenth centuries has recently been challenged. Preliminary evidence suggests that in the sixteenth-century Low Countries a variety of bourgeois consumer practices originated.10 The ambition of this article is to locate the city of Antwerp empirically in the debate on the ‘material renaissance’ and the ‘birth of a consumer society’. Sixteenth-century Antwerp was not only an international gateway, but also an important centre for the production of luxuries. In short, it was a prom­­ inent fashion maker. Moreover, the commercial fate of the city was closely intertwined with trade and commerce in the Italian peninsula,11 and as a result mid-sixteenth-century Antwerp functioned as an important mediator of Italian (material) cultures and Renaissance models in Northern Europe. The city remained deprived of the presence of a strong (consuming) urban nobility, but was dominated (though not ruled) by mercantile elites.12 Nevertheless, as we will argue, when it comes to material culture Antwerp contributed significantly to major consumer transitions in the early modern period.13 A range of material innovations was launched into Northern Europe from Italy via Antwerp, such as –to name but a few important ones – the production of Venetian glass, the manufacture of majolica, and the development of an Antwerp silk industry.14 It is the last product that will be used in this contribution to show that the gap between the narratives on the material renaissance and the late early modern consumer revolution is less pronounced than has been suggested so far. Silk textiles will serve the purpose of demonstrating how fashion, novelty, variety and a rather favourable attitude towards luxury consumption – according to

10 Blondé & Ryckbosch, “In ‘Splendid Isolation’”. 11 For a recent update with all necessary references see Jeroen Puttevils, Merchants and Trading in the Sixteenth Century: The Golden Age of Antwerp, London, 2015. 12 Hugo Soly, “Social Relations in Antwerp in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries”, in Antwerp. Story of a Metropolis, 16th-17th Century, Jan Van Der Stock (ed.), Ghent, 1993, pp. 37–47. 13 In this context see the research by Carolien De Staelen, Spulletjes en hun betekenis in een commerciële metropool. Antwerpenaren en hun materiële cultuur in de zestiende eeuw, unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Antwerp, 2007; Inneke Baatsen, Bruno Blondé, Julie De Groot & Isis Sturtewagen, “At Home in the City: the Dynamics of Material Culture”, in City and Society in the Low Countries, 1100–1600, Bruno Blondé, Marc Boone & Anne-Laure Van Bruaene, Cambridge, 2018, pp. 192–219. 14 See, for example, Johan Veeckman, “Production and Consumption of Glass in 16th and Early 17th Century Antwerp: the Archeological Evidence”, in Majolica and glass, pp. 79–93; Johan Veeckman, “Recent Research concerning Antwerp Majolica Production”, in Material Culture in Medieval Europe, eds Guy De Boe & Frans Verhaeghe, Zellik, 1997, pp. 113–17; Claire Dumortier, Céramique de la Renaissance à Anvers. De Venise à Delft, Brussels, 2002; Inneke Baatsen, Bruno Blondé & Carolien De Staelen, “Antwerp and the ‘Material Renaissance’. Exploring the Social and Economic Significance of Crystal Glass and Majolica in the Sixteenth Century”, in The Routledge Handbook of Material Culture in Early Modern Europe, eds David Gaimster, Tarah Hamling & Catherine Richardson, Farnham, 2015, pp. 436–51; Alfons Thijs, De zijdenijverheid te Antwerpen in de zeventiende eeuw, Brussel, 1969.

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Trentmann the defining key features of a modern consumer pattern – were already characteristic for large segments of the sixteenth-century Low Countries’ luxury industries. 12.2. Silk, a Luxury? In 1990 Alfons Thijs, the unrivaled specialist in the history of the Antwerp textile industry, published a remarkable price list of a large variety of textiles that were available at the Antwerp market in 1575.15 The small archival document is impressive in documenting the enormous variety of about 150 different textiles for sale in Antwerp. Unsurprisingly indeed, not only the raw materials, but also the qualities of fabrics varied widely, and so did the prices of textiles. The prices for silk, linen as well as woollen products varied enormously. Yet, while for nearly every expensive and luxurious product a cheaper substitute was available, eventually Thijs expressed a pronounced pessimistic impression about the opportunity for people of lesser means, and especially wage labourers, to acquire new textiles such as silk products. Thijs and Herman Van der Wee were, however, much more optimistic about the possibilities of the urban middling classes purchasing silk. Van der Wee linked long-term price rises in imported raw organzina silk to the growing demand for silk in the Low Countries. Silk, which had been “traditionally confined to royalty, the aristocracy and the church, now also became very popular among the well-to-do urban middle classes”.16 This claim is indeed underscored by contemporary evidence. None other than Margaretha of Austria in 1527 lamented that the Low Countries had lost enormously through the imports of silk “parce qu’il n’y a personne, soit homme ou femme, de quelque estat qu’il soit, qui n’en veule avoir porter”.17 This will, undoubtedly, have been exaggerated, but other sources, including the visual records, support the notion that silk was increasingly available to the urban upper middling groups. When Antwerp-trained painter Joos van Cleve painted the portrait of goldsmith and businessman Joris Vezeleer and his wife Margaretha Boghe in 1518, silk must have been prominently present in the sitters’ wardrobes. Joris is dressed entirely in black but for his white linen shirt and fine leather gloves. He wears a black cloth gown, trimmed or perhaps lined with black fur, and with wide slit sleeves with velvet guards which reveal the voided velvet sleeves of his doublet below. His wife Margaretha is shown in a 15 Alfons Thijs, “Les textiles au marché anversois au XVIe siècle”, in Textiles of the Low Countries in European Economic History, Proceedings of the Tenth International Economic History Congress, Eric Aerts & John H. Munro (eds.), Leuven, 1990, pp. 76–86. 16 Herman Van der Wee, “Economic activity and international trade in the Southern Netherlands, 1538–1544”, in The Low Countries in the early modern world, Herman Van der Wee (ed.), Aldershot, 1993, pp. 115–125, p. 122. 17 Thijs, “Les textiles au marché anversois”, p. 80.

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 Figure 12.1. Joos van Cleve, Joris Vezeleer and his wife Margaretha Boghe, National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, c. 1518. https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.46435.html & https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.46436.html

bright blue cloth gown, along the neckline of which is shown a narrow strip of the black voided velvet fabric of her kirtle (Fig. 12.1). Joos van Cleve was not the only painter to depict wealthy townspeople dressed in silk. Roughly a decade later Jan Gossaert painted his anonymous merchant, identified by some as merchant-tax collector Jeronimus Sandelin, wearing a brown woollen cloth gown with bright red sleeves, which is lined with black damask.18 Below the gown he is wearing a black sleeveless coat with black velvet guards along the neck and a pale lavender grey voided velvet doublet. Clearly, the general image of wealthy entrepreneurs and merchants at the time must have been closely associated with silk dress (Fig. 12.2).

18 For a discussion of the sitter’s identification see John Oliver Hand and Martha Wolff, Early Netherlandish Painting. The collections of the National Gallery of Art Systematic Catalogue, Cambridge, 1986.

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Figure 12.2. Jan Gossaert, Portrait of a Merchant, National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, c. 1530. https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.50722.html

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12.3. Silk, a Populuxe? It would, however, be risky to treat rich patrician and merchant families as evidenced in these portraits as representative of the larger social group of the urban middling sort which Herman van der Wee and Alfons Thijs probably had in mind. According to Thijs urban middling groups would have had a more luxurious textile consumption pattern, and this is – indeed – not contradicted by the probate inventory evidence that will be discussed in the following paragraphs.19 Probate inventories can do a good job in clarifying the extent to which ‘silk items’ found their way into the homes of Antwerpers of different social standing. This paper is essentially based upon a rather large database of probate inventories drawn for sample periods of the late long sixteenth century (especially 1560–1579, 1585–1599 and 1628–1632). The sources stem from notaries’ records kept in Antwerp’s municipal archives.20 These probate inventories were prepared primarily for the purpose of safeguarding family inheritance after the death of a parent. However, inventories were costly, and thus rare among the poor. Moreover, even though they cover a wide range of households of different standings, it is extremely difficult to stratify socially the sources used for this contribution. Ideally other sources like taxes and accounts would help us to define social categories for the households described. But neither the Antwerp city archives nor the inventories themselves offer valuations of the estates that could remedy the lack of social contextualisation. These deficiencies have forced us to devise our own criterion, drawn from the sources themselves. We have provisionally settled on the number of rooms listed in inventories for assigning relative socio-economic standing to the households they described. Although the number of rooms is but a very rough proxy for movable wealth and social rank, it has an obvious rationale. Moreover, it supplies a social ranking, in line with hierarchies typically found in material culture studies of goods ownership. Category I contains inventories of testators living in one room; category II relates to inventories dispersed over two or three rooms. Categories III (4–7 rooms) and IV (8–11 rooms) cover the middling and upper segments of the urban middle classes. Category V comprises inventories of between 12 and 15 rooms, and category VI, finally, is a residual category grouping all inventories with more than 16 rooms each. In an earlier publication we were able to identify category IV as the point of gravity of the Antwerp middling groups of master craftsmen and shopkeepers, though obviously the wealthier among them also penetrated higher social groups, while the lower middle classes were still well represented in category III.21 19 These data were drawn from a database constructed and described by Carolien De Staelen, Spulletjes. 20 For the sixteenth-century post mortem inventories sample see De Staelen, Spulletjes and for the seventeenth century consult Bruno Blondé, “Tableware”. 21 Inneke Baatsen, Bruno Blondé & Julie De Groot, “The Kitchen between Representation and Daily Experience. The Case of Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Trading Values in Early-Modern Antwerp, eds Christine Göttler, Bart Ramakers & Joanna Woodall, Leiden, 2014, pp. 167–68, table 2.

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In the middle of the sixteenth century, both silk and semi-silk (fabrics of mixed fibre content including silk) items were widespread among all the social layers of Antwerp society that are covered by the probate inventories of our database. Almost every household possessed at least one item in (half-)silk (Table 12.1). In these probate inventories it is impossible systematically to distinguish between imported and locally produced silks. Obviously, people with lesser means were inclined to invest more in smaller items of silk, in cheaper silk products, as well as in locally produced semi-silks. Nonetheless, even clothing fabricated from the more luxurious velvet was not completely missing from the lower social categories of probate inventories. In the 1560s about 40 per cent of the more modest one-room-dwellers in Antwerp owned velvet. In the middling layers of society this percentage varied to between 33 and 70 per cent of all households (Figure 12.3.). In order to assess this, a clearer picture of the textile landscape, silk especially, is needed. Even though the sumptuary laws generally speak of silk, the only types of silk ever specified in normative texts were the three most precious varieties: velvet, damask and satin. Cheaper silks such as ormesin and taffeta do not seem to have worried governments to such an extent as to deem them worth mentioning. Clearly, low-end silks were tolerated, as was the use of more costly silks in smaller dress items – such as hats, partlets, belts and sleeves – or in the form of decorative trimmings and guards.22 Thus, our probate inventories reveal a society in which local silk production gradually developed from a substitute for imported silks into a successful industry which by the sixteenth century catered for both local demand and foreign markets.23 The ascent of less expensive silk and half-silk fabrics was fundamentally redefining the character of the concept of ‘luxury’ in the lower segments of the market. It was exactly the small items of dress, such as sleeves, partlets and hoods, or decorative bands on clothes that most often were made from silk or half-silk fabrics. Obviously, several high-end silk products were available on the Antwerp market, especially the highly expensive foreign – and mostly Italian – velvet, damask and satin. These often included a high percentage of silver and gold thread as well as silk fibre, and the most precious ones were also dyed in rich crimson. The 1575 price list shows that prices for such ‘drap’ and ‘brocard’ of gold or silver varied between 840 and 216 denier per Antwerp ell (0.695 m), 22 Such decorative bands were not included in the graphs presented above, for which the authors chose to take into account only the main materials that clothes and accessories were made of. Qualitative analysis of the Antwerp inventories, however, shows that this use of silk frequently appears in lower middling group inventories. Such use of silk was also apparent in Bruges: by the end of the sixteenth century almost 60 per cent of middling group households owned one or more items decorated with silk or half-silk. Isis Sturtewagen, All Together Respectably Dressed. Dress and Fashion in Fifteenth- and Sixteenth-century Bruges, unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Antwerp, 2016, p. 288. 23 Herman Van der Wee, “Industrial Dynamics and the Process of Urbanization and De-urbanization in the Low Countries from the Late Middle Ages to the Eighteenth Century. A Synthesis”, in The Rise and Decline of Urban Industries in Italy and in the Low Countries (Late Middle Ages-Early Modern Times), Leuven, 1988, pp. 207–08.

silk s an d the ‘g olden ag e’ of a ntwerp Table 12.1. Percentage of probate inventories with items of silk and semi-silk, Antwerp (1560–1585).

I II III IV V VI

Semi-silk 100 100 75 100 100 100

Silk 87 100 67 86 86 100

Source: Municipal Archives of Antwerp, Notariaat. Database Carolien De Staelen (University of Antwerp – Centre for Urban History)

Figure 12.3. Percentage of households with consumer items made from velvet (1560, 1585). Source: Municipal Archives of Antwerp, Notariaat. Database Carolien De Staelen (University of Antwerp – Centre for Urban History).

depending on the amount of metal thread in the weave (Figure 12.4.). Prices for silk velvets started at 108 denier and went all the way up to as much as 288 denier. The prices of velvet seem to have been determined to a large extent by the density of the pile, which could consist of ‘drye haer’, ‘twee haer’ or ‘anderhalff haer’. The most expensive type of velvet in the price list was a double-face velvet which had pile on both sides. Damask varied between 140 and 40 denier and satin between 132 and 18. Satin from Cyprus was available at about half the price of Genoese, Florentine, Bolognese and Lucchese satins, but unparalleled were the semi-silk satins from Bruges and Tournai (and from the late sixteenth century onwards also Antwerp itself ) which cost a mere 20–18 denier. Other cheaper silks are grogram, ormesin, taffeta, boratto and camlet. While ormesin

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Figure 12.4. Price ranges of textile types in 1575. Source: based on Thijs, “Les textiles”, pp. 77–85.

and taffeta were pure silk fabrics they were very thin and had a simple weave that did not require the complex looms needed for patterned silks and velvets. Grogram and camlet, which were also basic simple weaves, existed in pure silk and semi-silk qualities, and boratto was a mixed weave of wool and silk. Mock velvet (tripe or trijp), made of a linen ground weave and a woollen pile, was similar in price to Bruges satin at 36–12 denier. Since Antwerp functioned as the Low Countries’ entrepôt, much of the Italian silk products imported to the Low Countries, estimated at 4 million guilders in the middle of the sixteenth century (one fifth of all imports), passed through the city.24 Half a million guilders’ worth of silks were re-exported to England, the Baltic and France. This still leaves 3.5 million guilders of silk to be consumed in the Low Countries on an annual basis. The ledger of an anonymous silk merchant who bought and sold more than 1400 pieces of silk – velvet, satin, taffetas, caffa, damask in more than twenty-five colour combinations acquired mostly from Lucchese merchants operating in Antwerp – in Brussels and Antwerp in 1548–1557 shows to whom this

24 Wilfrid Brulez, “The Balance of Trade of the Netherlands in the Middle of the 16th Century”, in Acta Historiae Neerlandica, 4, 1970, pp. 20–48; Jeroen Puttevils, “Trading Silks and Tapestries in Sixteenth-Century Antwerp”, in Europe’s Rich Fabric. The Consumption, Commercialisation, and Production of Luxury Textiles in Italy, the Low Countries and Neighbouring Territories (FourteenthSixteenth Centuries), eds Bart Lambert & Katherine Wilson, Farnham: Ashgate, 2016, pp. 131–156.

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imported Italian silk was sold: aristocrats, senior government members such as Mary of Austria, governess of the Low Countries, Lamoral, count of Egmont, and even the emperor Charles V himself. Clearly, the clientele of this merchant’s Italian wares, often sold as large pieces, consisted of the well-to-do.25 The 3.5 million guilders’ worth of silk consumed annually in the Low Countries included raw silk and silk thread. Indeed, throughout the sixteenth century a native (half-)silk industry developed in the Low Countries with an obvious centre in Antwerp. Already in 1500 there were Antwerp artisans active in satin weaving. Commercially, satin weaving was an excellent choice: the cheaper half-silk product could not compete with the extensive imports of expensive Italian or Eastern silk cloths, but precisely this price difference (clearly evidenced in the 1575 price list) allowed it to open up a different and larger group of potential buyers.26 The 1530s and 1540s witnessed a search for product differentiation and the beginning of the production of more expensive damask and velvet in Antwerp. Jan Nuyts, an immigrant from Brabant, set up a firm specialising in crimson and violet silk cloth weaving and dyeing (velvet, damask, grogram and satin) and other typically Italian silk products, for which he was granted a subsidy by the city government, a policy often pursued by the government selectively to attract economically useful migrants. His output was mainly sold in the Low Countries; among his clients was the first wife of William of Orange.27 By 1584 more than 4,000 workers were active in Antwerp silk weaving in a city of around 80,000 inhabitants. This figure looks impressive, but it needs to be said that this growth came at the cost of other production centres in the Low Countries that were temporarily forced out of business because of the Dutch Revolt.28 In the last third of the sixteenth century the native production of silk trimmings and ribbons and the production processes of silk plying and dyeing took hold in Antwerp as well, after being introduced by Italian artisans such as the Genoese silk dyer Stefano de la Torre and the Venetian silk plier Ambrosius Spiritellus. Hence, while initially Antwerp silk production began as a way of substituting for imports it gradually encompassed the production of both cheaper (half-)silk products and the more expensive silks, imitating Italian and Eastern variants. By the end of the century, Antwerp-produced silk had become an export commodity itself.29 Thus, the Antwerp experience

25 ARB, Manuscripts, 2784, anonymous ledger. Roger De Peuter, “Mooie kleren voor hoge heren. Beschouwingen over de textielhandel te Brussel in het midden van de zestiende eeuw”, in Textielhistorische Bijdragen, 34, 1994, pp. 30–49. 26 Alfons K. L. Thijs, Van ‘werkwinkel’ tot ‘fabriek’: de textielnijverheid te Antwerpen, einde 15de – begin 19de eeuw, Brussel, 1987, pp. 123–24. For silk in Antwerp, see especially: Alfons K. L. Thijs, De zijdenijverheid te Antwerpen in de zeventiende eeuw, Brussel, 1969. 27 Alfons K. L. Thijs, “Een ondernemer uit de Antwerpse textielindustrie, Jan Nuyts (ca. 1512–1582)”, in Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis, 51, 1968, pp. 53–68. 28 Thijs, Van werkwinkel, pp. 124–27. 29 Alfons K. L. Thijs, “Structural Changes in the Antwerp Industry from the Fifteenth to the Eighteenth Century”, in The Rise and Decline, pp. 207–08.

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largely mirrors the development of Italy’s own silk industry in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.30 In conclusion, in the course of the sixteenth century a whole range of cheaper silks had become available, both produced within the Low Countries and imported. Their prices per ell were lower than even the poorest quality woollen cloths, and similar to English kerseys and fabrics produced by the Draperies Légères. Yet, this was not the only reason why silk, in its many forms, found its way into more and more middling group households; a second explanation has to be sought in the evolution of contemporary fashion itself, especially in the growing popularity of accessories, as well as the increasing use of surface decoration in dress. 12.4. Silk, a Fashion’s Favourite? Indeed, already starting in the fifteenth century, the sixteenth century witnessed a fundamental breakthrough in the accessorisation of dress. While separate accessories such as belts, headwear, gloves and various types of purses are mentioned in probate inventories in ever greater numbers, they also show a trend towards an increasingly ‘dismembered’ wardrobe. Whereas garments had usually been made in one piece, now separate sleeves, collars or partlets, chest-cloths, knee-hose and breeches became much more frequent. By the 1560s the numbers of accessories and small dress items went through the roof. Satin, velvet, grogram and damask sleeves appear in the inventories of men as well as women. Partlets and chest-cloths were typically worn by women, while breeches were worn exclusively by men. Whether these accessorised parts of dress were made of wool or of silk, they enabled clothes to be much more customisable to the occasion and preferences of the wearer. They added visual interest to people’s appearance and allowed for a more intricate play of colours and textures in any outfit, especially since they were the parts of dress that were visible when all else was covered by outer garments. In both the portrait of Joris Vezeleer and Jan Gossaert’s portrait of a merchant the expensive material of the doublet sleeves showed through the large slits in the sleeves of the gown. While in these two portraits the doublet sleeves were not yet separate from the main garment, in the view of the Antwerp Meir which was painted about 70 years later we see several individuals with differently coloured sleeves, most notably the dentist with his bright red and yellow striped sleeves in the centre of the bottom-left quarter of the painting. Sleeves and hose – and especially the elbows and feet – which are known to have worn out faster than any other parts of clothes, were much more easily replaced as separate dress elements; no seams had to be undone.31 This

30 Anna Muthesius, “Silk in the medieval world”, in The Cambridge History of Western Textiles Vol. 1, ed. D. Jenkins, Cambridge, 2003, pp. 325–54. 31 Hanna Zimmerman, Textiel in Context. Een analyse van textielvondsten uit 16e-eeuws Groningen, Groningen, 2007, pp. 191–99.

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not only made the main garments wearable for a longer period of time, but also allowed people more regularly to update their wardrobes according to changing fashions, with only relatively modest financial investment. Apart from this increase in accessories and tendency towards accessorising clothes, sixteenth-century fashion witnessed a boom in surface decoration. Long and narrow strips of fabric or ribbons were used to create contrasting bands or guards along the necklines, openings or hems of garments, as can be seen not only in many portrait paintings – including the ones discussed above – but also in the Antwerp probate inventories. The probate inventory of Peter Bernoillo, for example, lists a armosynen casack met fluweel geboort (ormesin cassock with velvet guards).32 Christoffel Joris possessed a damasten casack met flouweel geboort (damask cassock with velvet guards).33 The wife of Hector van Egmont had among her possessions a groffgreyne cuers met eenen fluweelen boort geboort ende deurluchtich passement daerop geboort (grogram kirtle with velvet guards and passementerie trim).34 Instead of the countless flat guards mentioned the inventories sometimes also record round velvet trim, for example in the inventory of Margriete Boge (I swertten grofgreynen cuers met een ront trypen boordeken).35 Edgings and trims were mostly made of velvet or mock velvet (trijp), but also more affordable materials such as bay, osset and half osset were used. Strips of fabric could be pieced together from the leftover fabric cuttings from previously made clothes, or they could easily be recycled from discarded older and worn out clothes. The inventories show indeed that trims were reused. The inventory of Ida van Lith mentions a zak met oude fluweelen boordekens (bag with old velvet guards),36 and Elisabeth Speldieren possessed oude fluweelen boorden ende syden frenien (old velvet guards and silk fringe).37 Even in the households of the urban elite, such as that of Petronelle Verbecque, oude flouweelen boorden (old velvet guards) were van rocken gesneden ende getert (removed and cut off coats).38 Compared to labour-intensive embroidery, trims were moreover relatively easy and quick to make. The fashion for decorating garments with guards was thus accessible to the middling and lower social levels represented in the inventory database as well. Visual evidence from the Southern Netherlands, including manuscript illuminations, prints and panel paintings, shows craftspeople, labourers, servant girls, market women and peddlars of all sorts with such simple decorations.39 Not only were strips of fabric used to appliqué these bands onto clothes, but narrow wares (smallekens) or passementerie were also applied for this purpose. 32 Peeter Bernoillo, Municipal Archives Antwerp (henceforth MAA) 24/05/1568, N, 1474, fol. 137r–147v, class 4. 33 Christoffel Joris, 27/05/1567, MAA, N, 3633, fol. 44–66v, class 6. 34 Hector van Egmont, 16/04/1574, MAA, N, 465, fol. 4r–8v, class 3. 35 Margriete Boge, 04/11/1574, MAA, N, 1329, fol. 141r–148r, class 6. 36 Ida van Lith, 17/02/1576, MAA, N, 465, fol. 192v–198v, class 3. 37 Elisabeth Speldieren, 26/05/1574 MAA, N, 465, fol. 28r–33v, class 4. 38 Petronelle Verbecque, 10/11/1574, MAA, N, 2876, fol. 288r–404r, class 6. 39 Sturtewagen, All Together Respectably, pp. 138, 191.

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Although probate inventories do describe the bands in enough detail, surely plain silk ribbons as well as more complicated velvet or brocaded trims, which were produced in Antwerp, must have been used for this purpose as well. The inventory of Willemyne Stryt contained several entries for silk ribbons, for instance “een stucxken wit cuels zyde lint” (a piece of white silk ribbon from Cologne), “LVIII dozyne swertte zyde hertte passementen” (58 dozen of black silk heart-patterned passementerie), and “II ponden XII onchen zyde frenien fyn” (two pounds of fine silk fringe).40 Brocaded silk passementerie or galloon made entirely of metal thread was sometimes mentioned in the inventories due to its high value, but appears only in the richer households. Metallic lace (spellewerck), in particular, seems to have been a sign of status and wealth. Jonckheer Daneele van Halmale’s inventory contained two garments, which must have belonged to his wife, that were decorated with metallic lace, namely a rooden flouweelen schoot met goude ende silveren spellewerck geboert (red velvet apron trimmed with gold and silver lace) and a swerten flouweelen gefigureerde vrouwen tabbaert met goude ende silveren spellewerck geboert (black voided velvet woman’s gown trimmed with gold and silver lace).41 Several other types of narrow wares are mentioned in the inventories. Spigilje or cord was also used to close mantles or to decorate clothes, and became more popular towards the end of the century.42 Fringe was sometimes used as well to edge, it seems, especially female garments. This variety in trims and their use by different social groups is, again, nicely illustrated by an anonymous painting showing the Meir market around 1600. Market vendors as well as their customers and passers-by have various types of trim in different materials and colours along the edges of skirts and mantles, decorating the collars and shoulder rolls of jackets and doublets or covering the side seams of their breeches. While one or more contrasting black guards along the hem of women’s red, brown and green skirts and under dresses appear on the clothes of different social groups, metallic trim seems to be largely reserved for the wealthier, shown leisurely strolling around, talking to acquaintances and tasting distilled drinks in one of the market stalls. The fashion for decorating dress with ribbons and edgings in different materials in the sixteenth century made the use of silk relevant for a wide group of people. Those who could not even afford the small amount of silk needed for such decorations could easily replicate the overall look in woollen fabric. On the other hand, at the same time novelties such as metallic lace were introduced which made clear the visual differences between layers of urban society.

40 Willemyne Stryt, 28/01/1576, MAA, N, 465, fol. 177v–183v, class 4. 41 Jonckheer Daneele van Halmale, 10/12/1576, MAA, N, 465, fol. 280r–288v, class 6. 42 The name spigilje derives from the Spanish espiguilla, which means ‘herringbone’, referring to the braided texture of this type of passementerie. In Antwerp the master test of the spigiljamakers consisted of the making of a mantelcoorde (mantle cord) in 1607. Thijs, De zijdenijverheid, p. 113; Eelco Verwijs & Jacob Verdam, Middelnederlandsch woordenboek, on the CD-ROM Middelnederlands, The Hague and Antwerp, 1998. Lemma: spigilje.

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However, although silk had become available to many, due to dropping prices, local production and changes in fashion, it did not manage to bring down social boundaries. It is clearly not a coincidence that it is the small items of dress that are most often the ones made from silk and semi-silk fabrics in Antwerp middling-group inventories. While in Antwerp the possession of silk was no longer reserved exclusively to the elites, the status of the wearer was still reflected in the quality and amount of silk used, and no doubt also in the frequency with which silk or silk-decorated garments were worn. 12.5. Consuming Problems? The almost omnipresence of silk in its different materialisations raises crucial questions about the moral framework of bourgeois consumption. Indeed, several authors amply demonstrated how, in stark contrast to the late early modern period, consuming problems and moral constraints, if not formal legislation, seriously impeded the potential for modern consumer behaviour in the sixteenth century.43 At first sight, this seems to be corroborated by sixteenth-century sumptuary legislation.44 In October 1531, a substantive sumptuary law was issued in Brussels, which among other things was concerned with excesses in dress. Everyone – princes, dukes, marquises and counts, however rich – was without exception prohibited from wearing textiles containing gold and silver thread.45 Gowns, mantles and coats of crimson velvet and satin, dyed with extremely expensive kermes, were prohibited to anyone below the station of knight and lower ranking noble.46 Anybody else could wear these only if they were able to buy and maintain two suitable cavalry horses that would be put at the disposal of the government in the event of war. Velvet, satin and damask in all colours but crimson could be used on the condition that one maintained a given number and

43 Patricia Allerston, “Consuming Problems: Worldly Goods in Renaissance Venice”, in The Material Renaissance, pp. 11–46; Guido Guerzoni, “Liberalitas, Magnificentia, Splendour. The Classic Origins of Italian Renaissance Lifestyles”, History of Political Economy, 31 (5), 1999, pp. 332–78; Evelyn Welch, “Public Magnificence and Private Display: Pontano’s ‘De Splendore’ and the Domestic Arts”, in Journal of Design History, 15, 2002, pp. 211–27. 44 On sumptuary laws in the Low Countries: Isis Sturtewagen & Bruno Blondé, “Playing by the Rules? Dressing without Sumptuary Laws in the Low Countries from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Century”, in The Right to Dress. Sumptuary Laws in a Global Perspective, c. 1200–1800, eds Giorgio Riello & Ulinka Rublack Cambridge, 2019, pp. 74–95. 45 Recueil des Ordonnances des Pays-Bas, Deuxième Serie, 1506–1700, ed. Jules Lameere, vol. 3, Bruxelles, 1902, pp. 265–73. 46 In the same year a sumptuary law was issued by Charles V in Germany, but the two laws differed substantially. While they both tried most avidly to regulate the use of crimson or scarlet silks and textiles woven or decorated with metal thread, the German law went into much more detail for the lower social groups and for women. In the Low Countries the use of silk fabrics and especially velvet was less restricted than in Germany, where even the urban patriciate and noblemen were allowed to wear velvet only for trims. Ulinka Rublack, “The Right to Dress: Sartorial Politics in Early Modern Germany (c. 1530–1750)”, in The Right to Dress, pp. 37–74.

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quality of horses that accorded with the quality and expense of the fabrics and depending on the garments made from them (depending thus on the yardage needed).47 That the ordinance of 1531 was at most moderately effective is shown by the many repetitions and specifications that followed on the orders of Mary of Hungary in 1542, 1545, 1546 and 1550.48 Unsurprisingly then, in the sumptuary law of January 1545 there is a clear tone of frustration with the civil disobedience of sumptuary laws.49 In 1550 Emperor Charles begins yet another sumptuary law with the remark ‘that the before-mentioned unruliness increases ever more on account of the diversity of clothes and the fashion of decorating them with gold and silver thread, fringe, embroidery, and various sorts of silk laces, stitching and other new inventions’.50 This law barred not only cloth of gold and silver or metal thread passementerie, but also all other imaginable decorations in which gold or silver was applied in any way.51 Just like the law of 1531 it meticulously specified who could wear what, also expanding the prohibition of silk clothes to livery as well as prohibiting the use of all kinds of silk in the dress of artisans, craftspeople and villagers. Instead of bargaining silk possession for horses, this time round there were only fines to be paid, of which one quarter went straight into the imperial treasury, at the expense of the church.52 In doing so, the 1550 ordinance shows how the need for money, brought on by an almost continuous state of war, eventually inspired a form of sumptuary legislation that functioned as a consumption tax (either in the form of war horses or simply as money) on the wearing of silk clothes, rather than forbidding it outright. This motivation is given a clear voice by a sumptuary law on the wearing of silk clothes issued by William of Orange in 1578.53 It opens with noting that ‘van noode is middelen te vinden om ghelt te hebben’ (there is need to find ways of obtaining money) and a few lines further down explains why: ‘om te bewaren ende beschermen de voirseide landen tegens alle oppressien, ghewelt, forcen ende invasien’ (to preserve and protect the aforesaid countries [the Low Countries] against all oppression, violence, force and invasions). Given the fact that de zotternije int volck te zeer verwortelt is (the foolishness [of dress] is so deeply rooted in the people) there was no way to put into proper order the consumption of silk. This foolish

47 The ordinance differentiates between robes (= gowns), manteaulx (= mantles), and sayes (= coats). The first two garments were much wider and usually also longer than the last, and thus required much more fabric, resulting in a higher total material cost. Recueil des Ordonnances, 3, pp. 271–72. 48 Recueil des Ordonnances, 4, pp. 410–11; Recueil des Ordonnances, Bruxelles, 1910, pp. 213–14 and 269; Recueil des Ordonnances, vol. 6, Bruxelles, 1922, pp. 81–82. 49 Recueil des Ordonnances, 4, p. 213. 50 Original quotation: ‘dat de voorschreven ongheregheltheyt vermeerdert langhs zo meer: zoo overmids de diverscheyt van cleederen ende tfautsoen van dien met recamueren, gaut ende zelver draet, frenyen, borduerwerck ende meer andere soorten van zyde snoeren, sticsels ende andere nieuwe invention’. Recueil des Ordonnances, 6, p. 81. 51 Aiglets are the, sometimes very decorative, pointy metal caps which covered the ends of laces, much like the modern plastified ends of shoelaces. 52 Recueil des Ordonnances, 6, pp. 80–83. 53 In its opening notes this placard refers to a regulation issued the previous year on the wearing of silk, which, however, as far as the authors are aware, has not been preserved.

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pomposity was introduced into the Low Countries by the Spanish and made it increasingly difficult to distinguish the master from his servants, the lady from the tradeswomen and the lord from the burgher. All were engaged in this haughty and excessive attempt to outdo one another. Therefore the authorities decided ‘datmen eenenyeghelijck taxeren soude na zyne qualiteyt ende graet ende dat zy voir eenen prijs voir een jaer’ (that they would tax everyone according to their quality and degree, a fixed price for the duration of one year). Representatives of the local government would pay a visit to every inhabitant to see what they were wearing (these officials were not allowed to enter the houses). Within this one year for which the tax was paid, one was allowed to wear what one pleased.54 What is different in this law from all the previous ones is that the tax was not levied according to the type and quantity of silk used, but rather according to the social status of the wearer, a clear sign of its predominantly fiscal preoccupation which fits with the position the silk clothes tax takes within the larger and more encompassing tax system of the ‘generale middelen’. All different social stations are ranked and taxed, starting with the highest clerics, the high nobility and the senior government officials and then gradually descending the social ladder towards merchants, retailers, town and village clerks. The wealth tax declined in a parallel fashion. Tellingly, it is the wearing of silk clothes which was taxed, not the silk trimmings. That the consumption of imported silk was a widespread phenomenon in the Low Countries, regardless of sumptuary legislation, is clearly shown by the fact that these regulations upset both Italian and Antwerp silk merchants, as can be inferred from the business letters of Pieter Van der Molen, the manager of the Antwerp Van der Molen merchant company. On 14 November 1540, Pieter wrote to Jeronimo Azeretto di Vivaldis, one of his Italian clients, that there were rumours that Emperor Charles V would announce a new law on velvet and silk cloth. Nothing happened, however, until February 1542, when Pieter wrote to Jeronimo again, this time to announce that ‘the court has promulgated a new law: nobles or those who act like nobles who wear garments made of velvet, satin or damask, have to keep two horses of fifteen hands high to serve the court when necessary. So it will be too difficult for most to pay for silk garments and keep two horses’. However, tellingly enough, Pieter suggestively added to his last letter that probably this law would fade into obscurity as previous laws had done.55 Even though the sumptuary laws generally speak of silk, the only types of silk ever specified in normative texts were the three most precious varieties: velvet, damask and satin. Cheaper silks such as ormesin and taffeta do not seem to have 54 The authors would like to thank Guido Marnef (University of Antwerp) for his reference to this text. Guido Marnef is preparing a monograph on the Calvinist Republic of Antwerp, including the city’s fiscal reorganization. Christoffel Plantijn, Listen vande generale middelen gheresolueert by zijn Alteze, mijn Heere den Prince van Orangnien, den Raedt van State, ende de generale Staten, Antwerpen, 1578. https://books.google.be/books?id=_0ZbAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&hl= nl&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false. 55 MAA, IB 2898, Copy-letterbook of Pieter Van der Molen 1538–1544, fol. 186r, fol. 225v. Translation taken from Jeroen Puttevils, “Trading silks and tapestries”, p. 131.

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worried governments to such an extent as to be worth mentioning. Clearly, low-end silks were tolerated, as was the use of more costly silks in smaller dress items – such as hats, partlets, belts and sleeves – or in the form of decorative trimmings and guards.56 Thus, the sartorial order that the central government wanted to impose on its subjects was, if anything, old fashioned and almost counter-factual. It fell by the wayside in a society in which local silk production gradually developed from a substitute for imported silks into a successful industry, which by the sixteenth century catered for both local demand and foreign markets.57 While the Caroline law of 1531 and later repetitions of it carefully sought to maintain the status boundaries within the elites through the silk fabrics they were allowed to wear, they hardly paid attention to the ascent of less expensive silk and half-silk fabrics, which by this time were fundamentally redefining the character of the concept of ‘luxury’ in the lower segments of the market. 12.6. Conclusion Several lessons can be drawn from this exploration into the production and consumption of silks on the Antwerp market. Obviously enough, imported and costly luxury silk garments appealed to the elites in urban society. But what sets Antwerp apart from Italy is a clear tendency towards a specific form of import substitution; one that privileged product and process innovations targeting a larger, urban bourgeois market. And although the ‘political freedom’ to consume was far from guaranteed, these bourgeois products fell by the wayside of the sartorial concerns of sumptuary legislators. Indeed, moral constraints did not impede the development of the silk industry in the Southern Netherlands. Two caveats need to be made, however. The rapid spread of silk in society did nothing to diminish the positional power of silk garments, that still revealed a recognisable variety combining ‘old’ and ‘new luxuries,’ as the examples above illustrate. Moreover, Antwerp consumers may not necessarily have been typical Low Countries’ consumers. In Bruges, which had been the most important trade centre of the region before Antwerp took its place, silk consumption also increased, but it did so to a much more modest degree.58 In the Antwerp material culture, silk production and consumption was anything but a ‘stand alone’ example. It can be argued that the majolica and crystal glass production and consumption followed a very similar trajectory.59 And the evidence available for the Antwerp art market does corroborate this: not only did the prospering urban middling groups breathe life into the market

56 Such decorative bands were not included in the above graphs, which only take into account the main materials that clothes and accessories were made of. This use of silk appears in lower middling group inventories in much higher numbers. 57 Van Der Wee, “The rise”, pp. 207–08. 58 Sturtewagen, All Together Respectably, chapter 3. 59 Baatsen, Blondé and De Staelen, “Antwerp and the ‘Material’”.

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through their expanding incomes, they also heavily influenced product and process innovations.60 As a result, the difference with the Dutch model of the seventeenth century, which was credited for its bourgeois nature, is anything but straightforward and clear. Metropolitan life, and a society based on money and commerce that came with it, increased the need for outward differentiation – a driving force of fashion, as Georg Simmel commented around the beginning of the twentieth century.61 One that produced luxuries for bourgeoisies. Hence, our exploration somehow places sixteenth-century Antwerp on a historical and historiographical bridge between both ‘grand narratives’ on the growth of a consumer society. The available empirical evidence clearly is at odds with Jan de Vries’ and Trentmann’s claims for the unicity of the seventeenth-century Northern Netherlands as the cradle of a modern bourgeois material culture. In sixteenth-century Antwerp craft guilds already specialised in product innovations with a high ‘new luxury’ potential. Indeed, Antwerpers not only imported and substituted Renaissance luxuries, such as silk, majolica, crystal glass. More importantly, they continually sought, as did other Flemish and Brabant industrial production centres, to adapt these to the necessities of a ‘local’ bourgeois market. Whether in paintings, silk or majolica several luxury industries were marked by cost-cutting and productivityenhancing production methods.62 Moreover, craft guilds invented new products such as genre paintings and landscapes, cheaper silks or silk accessories and plain majolica. Relative prices facilitated the breakthrough of several consumer products on new social markets, much as would do the so-called populuxe of the eighteenth century and our present-day mass-consumer society.

60 See chapter 11 by Koenraad Jonckheere in this volume. 61 Georg Simmel, “Fashion”, in On Individuality and Social forms, ed. Donald N. Levine, London, 1971 (1904), pp. 294–323; Georg Simmel, The Philosophy of Money, London, (trans. 1990). 62 Eric Jan Sluijter, “Over Brabantse vodden, economische concurrentie, artistieke wedijver en de groei van de markt voor schilderijen in de eerste decennia van de zeventiende eeuw”, in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 50, 1999, pp. 113–43.

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