HAHR 84 3 07 Osorio V2

The King in Lima: Simulacra, Ritual, and Rule in Seventeenth-Century Peru

Alejandra Osorio

The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth—it is the truth which conceals that there is none. The simulacrum is true.

—Ecclesiastes1

In 1622, King Philip IV was in Lima. Leandro de la Reynaga Salazar, the most senior alcalde, was chosen to carry Him to a temporary throne set on the center stage of Lima’s Plaza Mayor. But the King turned out to be rather heavier than expected. At the last minute, it was necessary to secure the help of three more men to carry His Majesty with the “appropriate decency required by the occasion.”2 In 1622, Philip IV was not in Lima. In his stead, a “lifelike copy of the King” (un trasunto vivo del Rey) measuring two yards tall by one and a half yards wide, with an additional half yard for its frame, was carried to the Plaza Mayor

Research for this article in Peru and Chile was made possible by a Fulbright Dissertation Fellowship, and in Spain by the W. Burghardt Turner Fellowship of the State of New York. Earlier versions were presented at Harvard University, SUNY–Stony Brook, Universidade do Porto, New York University, and the University of Massachusetts–Boston. I wish to thank those colleagues who made useful suggestions at those meetings. I would also like to thank Alejandro Cañeque, Antonio Feros, Temma Kaplan, Pilar Latasa Vasallo, Herman Lebovics, Paul Gootenberg, Sheryl Kroen, Kirsten Schultz, Mark Thurner, and Kathleen Wilson for their comments and suggestions. I also thank Stuart B. Schwartz, Barbara Weinstein, and the anonymous reviewers at HAHR. 1. Cited in Jean Baudrillard, “The Precession of Simulacra,” Simulations (New York: Semiotext(e), 1983), 1. 2. “Relacion de la solemnidad y ﬁestas . . . en el nombre del Rey nuestro Señor Felipe quarto . . . [1621],” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 3, part 2, Archivo Histórico Municipal de Lima (AHML).

Hispanic American Historical Review 84:3 Copyright 2004 by Duke University Press 448 HAHR / August / Osorio for the King’s proclamation ceremony.3 The portrait’s black frame was decorated with gold trimmings, chains, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and royal topaz, and inscribed on it in golden letters were the words, “Long Live the Catholic King Philip IV for Many Happy Years.” The painting itself depicted Philip’s entire body, with a face like that of an “angel,” where (according to the ofﬁcial chronicler Roman de Herrera) the King’s half smile and expressive eyes “undoubtedly communicated a look of authority.”4 When the four men and the King had reached the stage, the royal magistrates and all seated in the surrounding bleachers and galleries stood and removed their hats. The King was then “seated” on the “throne” (described as an elaborate and luxuriously covered chair) under a silken and gold canopy. With the King comfortably seated, the royal magistrates took their seats and covered their heads. The entourage that had accompanied the portrait exited the stage “bowing down—deeply—to the Theater of the King Our Lord.” As this was hap- pening, Herrera tells us, luxuriously dressed squadrons began to enter the plaza, led by Diego de Carvajal, postmaster general of Peru and deputy of cavalry. Mounted companies of musketeers were followed by one hundred artillery- men, who paraded before the “theater,” bowing to the King’s portrait. Two hundred uniformed infantrymen followed, likewise bowing to the King’s portrait. When all companies had entered the square, they formed four blocks of 25 rows of men and saluted their King by ﬁring their muskets into the air. Crowds gathered in the balconies, on the rooftops of surrounding buildings, and in the streets adjacent to the main square watched and cheered this event.5

Introduction

It is well known that the Spanish kings never visited their American dominions. Nevertheless, in colonial America, the unseen king was widely seen as the legitimate head of the Spanish Empire’s vast body. Viceregal Lima was something of a bastion of loyalism even as the wars of independence came knocking in the early nineteenth century. By what means was this colonial loyalty and royal legitimacy crafted in the American kingdoms of the Spanish Empire? While many cultural practices naturalized the exercise of colonial power, I am here

3. Philip IV became king in 1621; his proclamation ceremony in Lima took place in February 1622. 4. “Relacion de la solemnidad y fiestas . . . del Rey . . . Felipe quarto.” 5. Ibid. The King in Lima 449 concerned with only those ceremonies directly related to the body of the Span- ish king and their relationship to a geography of power. Spanish historian Xavier Gil Pujol notes that the “presence” of the King— even of a physically absent one—was irreplaceable as head and member of the community he ruled.6 A fundamental issue for the composite Spanish monarchy, from Charles V on, was how to make the king “present” in his many dominions, particularly those most distant. Beginning with the rule of Philip II, even in Spain itself the king had become increasingly absent, in part due to a new system of ritual life that sought to render the Spanish king invisible.7 Nonetheless, peninsular subjects could hope to see their king at least once in their lives when he made triumphal entries into European cities, took part in various religious rituals, or participated in the autos de fe.8 In the Indies, however, for colonial officials and local elites alike, making the king “present” and real was rather a different endeavor, since he never ventured across the At- lantic.9 Perhaps surprisingly, the figure of the Spanish king and the workings of his rule in this distant overseas possession remain largely unexamined. I suggest that courtly ceremonies in Lima served the dual purpose of making the absent king present to his distant subjects and binding him and his subjects in a reciprocal pact that was made real through ritual. Since (unlike in

6. Xavier Gil Pujol, “Una cultura cortesana provincial: Patria, comunicación y lenguaje en la monarquía hispánica de los Austrias,” in Monárquia, imperio y pueblos en la España moderna, ed. Pablo Fernández Albadalejo (Alicante: Univ. de Alicante, 1997), 225–58. This is also established in the Siete Partidas; see partida II, título I, ley V. 7. María José del Río Barredo argues that while Philip II created a ceremonial that made the Spanish king “invisible,” the transformations of courtly rituals implemented by Philip IV—and particularly his favorite, the count-duke of Olivares—made the king more “present,” if not more visible, in seventeenth-century courtly ceremonies in Madrid; Madrid, Urbs Regia: La capital ceremonial de la Monarquía Católica (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2000). I wish to thank Richard Kagan for pointing this out to me and Jesus Escobar for bringing this work to my attention. 8. Gil Pujol, “Una cultura,” 232–33. See also María de los Angeles Pérez Samper, “El Rey Ausente,” in Fernández Albadalejo, Monarquía, 379–94; William Christian Jr., Local Religion in Sixteenth-Century Spain (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1981); and Río Barredo, Madrid, Urbs Regia, 23–32, 44–82, 199–234. 9. It could be argued that the new political and geographic challenges posed by the discovery of possessions across the Atlantic drove the distinction between words and things. See Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), 46–77; Angel Rama, The Lettered City (Durham: Duke Univ. Press, 1996), 3. See also Marie Tanner, The Last Descendants of Aeneas: The Hapsburg and the Mythic Image of the Emperor (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1993); and Alfonso Sánchez Coello y el retrato en la corte de Felipe II (Madrid: Museo del Prado, 1990). 450 HAHR / August / Osorio

Spain) the real king was never produced in Peru, his simulacra—copies for which there are no originals—in effect made him a hyperreal king whose centrality in Lima’s ceremonies seems to have been unmatched by any other American city.10 Furthermore, given that Peru’s viceroy was never present during the courtly ceremonies of the Royal Exequies or the king’s Proclamation in seventeenth-century Lima, these rituals may have been more signiﬁcant for legitimating colonial rule than the viceregal entries meant to initiate the tenure of the king’s alter ego.11 In short, my contention is that in Lima, the king’s simulacrum was not only the organizing principle of royal ceremonies but also a central aspect of the exercise of monarchical rule. Equally signiﬁcant, however, was the role of kingly ceremonies in producing Lima as the principal city in the viceroyalty of Peru, more powerful than its rivals.12 The ceremonies around the king’s simulacra constituted important currency in the production of Lima’s courtly aura during its seventeenth-century dispute with the former Inca capital of Cuzco over the position as the head city, or cabeça, of the viceroyalty.13 Lima’s courtly ceremonial life, developed during the course of the seventeenth century, had, by the end of the century, established the city as the indisputable center of all political colonial power in the viceroyalty, as well as the prime cultural referent for the entire Spanish dominions abroad.14

10. In Mexico City, the figure of the king and his simulacra, particularly his portrait, seem not to have had the same preeminence; see Linda Curcio-Nagy, “Saints, Sovereignty, and Spectacle in Colonial Mexico” (Ph.D. diss., Tulane Univ., 1993). For the case of colonial Chile, see Jaime Valenzuela, “De las liturgias del poder al poder de las liturgias: Para una antropología política de Chile colonial,” Historia (Chile) 32 (1999): 575–615. 11. Two royal Proclamations were celebrated in Lima during the seventeenth century: Philip IV’s in February 1622 and Carlos II’s in October 1666. Both ceremonies coincided with the interim governments of the Audiencia of Lima in 1621– 22 and 1666–67, respectively. In seventeenth-century Lima, therefore, the authority of the king seems to have gone publicly unchallenged by his alter ego, the viceroy. 12. The official chronicles, known as relaciones de fiestas, became virtual books of ceremonial etiquette, exported to other viceregal cities as models for local celebrations. See my “Inventing Lima: The Making of an Early Modern Colonial Capital, ca. 1540–ca. 1640” (Ph.D. diss, SUNY–Stony Brook, 2001), 249–59. For a discussion of how the chronicles were used and read in Chile, see Isabel Cruz de Amenábar, La fiesta: Metamorfosís de lo cotidiano (Santiago: Univ. Católica de Chile, 1995), 78–85. 13. Aura here is used to mean an original in possession of authority. See Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections (New York: Schocken Books, 1988): 217–24. For a discussion of this dispute, see Osorio, “Inventing Lima,” chap. 1. 14. This was achieved in 1671 when Rosa de Santa María was canonized in Rome by Pope Clement X, becoming Santa Rosa de Lima. That same year, Santa Rosa was designated by the Spanish crown as the patron saint of all Spanish possessions abroad, The King in Lima 451

François-Xavier Guerra has argued that the “sworn faith” to the king as one’s lord entailed the vassal’s obligation to assist with “actions, [and] riches” and even to commit “one’s life” to defend him.15 I am more concerned here with the “swearing” than the “faith.” In seventeenth-century Lima, the oath of allegiance to the king was renewed annually in the ceremony of the Royal Standard; the oath was also central to the king’s Proclamation.16 While the Exequies allowed city and vassals to publicly display their grief and sorrow over the death of their beloved king, the culmination of the king’s Proclamation required that city and vassals publicly proclaim their allegiance to and love for his successor.17 Since allegiance to one’s lord was based on a personal relationship, as Guerra suggests, the presence of the king in these colonial ceremonies was of great importance. In colonial Lima, the king was personally present in several different ways: he presided over courtly ceremonies comfortably seated in a luxurious throne, his voice was heard every year when his oath to the city was enunciated by the most senior royal magistrate, his will was publicly announced by the royal town crier every time the ceremony of the pregón was performed, and his seal and signature “Yo E L REY” graced colonial paperwork. The Spanish king may have possessed one original—biological—body resid- ing in Spain, but his simulacra resided in Lima, and when deployed in elaborate rituals they allowed his distant loyal subjects to “see, hear, and feel” Him as if He were really there.

including the Philippines, thus making Lima the cultural referent for the Spanish Empire. “Cedula de SM, 11 de Marzo de 1669 . . . que declara por Patrona . . . Santa Rosa de Santa Maria . . . ,” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 3, part 1, AHML; Juan Felix Proaño, Vida autentica de Santa Rosa de Lima traducida de la bula de canonizacion (Lima, 1897), Biblioteca Nacional de Chile (BNCh); see also Osorio, “Inventing Lima,” chap. 5. 15. François-Xavier Guerra, “La desintegración de la monarquía hispánica: Revolución e independencias,” in De los imperios a las naciones: Iberoamérica, ed. Antonio Anino, Luis Castro Leiva, and François-Xavier Guerra (Zaragoza, Spain: Ibercaja, 1994), 200. 16. The oath seems to decline in importance in the proclamations celebrated in Lima in the eighteenth century. See, for example, Anonymous, “Solemne Proclamacion y cabalgata Real . . . levantando Pendones por el Rey catolico D. Felipe V,” 5 Oct. 1701, Biblioteca Nacional del Perú (BNP); “Lima Gozosa. Descripcion de la Solemne Pompa, y Festibas Demostraciones, . . . Por el Conde de la Superunda, Virrey del Peru,” Lima, 1759, BNP. 17. It was established in the Siete Partidas that the most effective and legitimate king and emperor was one who loved and was loved by his subjects; partida II, título I, ley III. 452 HAHR / August / Osorio

The City, the Plaza, and the Geography of Power

According to Spanish historian José Antonio Maravall, the baroque was an epoch of fiesta and splendor.18 The baroque was an urban phenomenon; the city not only provided the resources, in peoples and goods, needed to maintain privileged groups but also became associated with culture per se. One of the main features of this urban baroque culture was its love of ostentation: luxurious modes of dress, lavish display of riches, magnificent buildings, and splendid fiestas.19 In European baroque societies of the seventeenth century, urbanism was a crucial element in the power of local ruling elites.20 New urban centers of power such as Madrid and Paris gained importance and centrality as monarchs made them the permanent seats of their courts and as urban migration, produced by the economic transformation of the countryside, increased their pop- ulations.21 In Spain’s overseas empire, the creation of new colonial centers such as Lima, and the imperial project of indigenous relocation into Indian towns known as reducciones, manifested the new ideology of rule via civitas—the life lived in cities. This concept of rule, as Anthony Pagden has argued, regarded the city as the center of “civility,” cultural production, and political power.22 Furthermore, the idea of ritual, according to Edward Muir, developed in the sixteenth century. Accordingly, the urban baroque theater-state of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries exercised political power through elaborate public

18. José Antonio Maravall, Culture of the Baroque: Analysis of a Historical Structure, trans. Terry Cochran (Minneapolis: Univ. of Minnesota Press, 1986), 114, 241. 19. Ibid. See also Antonio Bonet Correa, “La fiesta barroca como práctica del poder,” in El arte efímero en el mundo hispánico (Mexico City: UNAM, 1983). 20. Maravall, Culture of the Baroque; Helen Nader, Liberty in Absolutist Spain: The Habsburg Sale of Towns, 1516–1700 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1990); and Catherine Wilkinson-Zerner, “The Duke of Lerma and His Town” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the North American Society for Court Studies, Boston, MA, September 2000). 21. Río Barredo, Madrid, Urbs Regia; Roy Strong, Splendor at Court: Renaissance Spectacle and the Theater of Power (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1973); A. G. Dickens, ed., Th e Courts of Europe: Politics, Patronage, and Royalty, 1400–1800 (London: Thames and Hudson, 1977); Antonio Domínguez Ortiz, Estudios de historia económica y social de España (Barcelona: Ariel, 1969), and Political fiscal y cambio social en la España del siglo XVII (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Fiscales, 1984). 22. See Anthony Pagden, Lords of All the World: Ideology of Empire in Spain, Britain, and France, c. 1500–c. 1800 (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1995), 11– 28, 44– 45. See also J. Lechner, “El concepto de ‘policia’ y su presencia en la obra de los primeros historiadores de Indias,” Revista de Indias 41 (1981): 395– 409; Rafael Sánchez-Concha Barrios, “De la miserable condición de los Indios a las Reducciones,” Revista Teológica Limense (1996): 95–104; and Alexander Coello de la Rosa, El barro de Cristo: Entre la corona y el evangelio en el Perú virreinal (1568–1580) (Barcelona: Univ. Autònoma de Barcelona, 2000). The King in Lima 453 rituals capable of enacting or “bring[ing] something into being.”23 Furthermore, the iconography, emblems, allegories, and “hieroglyphs” found in religious and solemn civic fiestas were essential for developing “mental habits” of reading and interpreting symbols that were not only accessible and knowable but also served a didactic purpose in sharing moral lessons with the public at large.24 As in baroque Europe, the physical and symbolic center of colonial power in the Americas was the city. In Lima, power was further concentrated in and around the core of urban social, political, and cultural life, the Plaza Mayor.25 The importance of the Plaza Mayor as the center of power in Lima was established upon its founding in 1535, when Francisco Pizarro, after allocating prime lots for the cathedral, the royal houses, the cabildo, and the jail, assigned the remaining plots surrounding it to his fellow conquistadors, their residences a representation of his patronage and personal power as governor of the land.26 By the seventeenth century, this core space of power in Lima had been en- larged to include the main city streets adjacent to the Plaza Mayor, occupied by churches erected by the major ecclesiastical orders—Jesuit, Dominican, Mer- cedarian, Franciscan, and Augustinian.27

23. Edward Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Europe (New York: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1997), 7. This played on familiar liturgical ceremonies, such as the consecration rite, where Christ was physically present in the host. See also Roy Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festival, 1450–1650 (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1984). 24. Fernando Checa and José Miguel Morán, El Barroco (Madrid: Ediciones Istmo, 1989), 236. See Jonathan Brown, “La antigua monarquía española como área cultural,” in Los Siglos de Oro en los virreinatos de América, 1550–1700 (Madrid: Museo de América, 2000), 19 – 26. See also Fernando Bouza, Imagen y propaganda: Capítulos de historia cultural del reinado de Felipe II (Madrid: Akal, 1998); Fernando R. de la Flor, Barroco: Representación e ideología en el mundo hispánico (1580–1680) (Madrid: Cátedra, 2002); Samuel Y. Edgerton Jr., “Icons of Justice,” Past and Present 89 (Nov. 1980): 23–38; Edward Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1981), and Ritual in Early Modern Europe, 147–54. 25. For the symbolic importance of the Plaza Mayor in the Americas, see La plaza en España e Iberoamérica: El escenario de la ciudad (Madrid: Ayuntamiento de Madrid, 1998); and Lino Alvarez Requillo et al., “Plazas” et sociabilité en Europe et Amérique Latine (Paris: Casa de Velázquez, 1982). See also Richard L. Kagan, Urban Images of the Hispanic World, 1493–1793 (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 2000), 19 – 44, 169 –76. 26. “Fundación de Lima,” Libros de cabildo de Lima (LCL) vol. 1 (Lima: Torres Aguirre; San Martí y Cía., 1935). 27. During the eighteenth century, the main city square loses its primacy as several new city squares were added. See Anonymous, “Solemne Proclamacion . . . Felipe V” ; and “Lima Gozosa.” See also Juan Bromley y José Barbagelata, Evolución urbana de Lima (Lima: Lumen, 1945); Luis Antonio Eguiguren, Las calles de Lima (Lima: n.p., 1945); Aldo Panﬁchi, “Urbanización temprana de Lima,” in Mundos interiores: Lima 1850–1950, ed. Aldo Panﬁchi H. and Felipe Portocarrero S. (Lima: Univ. del Pacifíco, Centro de Investigación, 1995), 15 – 42. 454 HAHR / August / Osorio

A significant ritual, which in essence mapped the geography of power in colonial Lima around the plaza, was the pregón, or publicación, a slow-moving procession of luxuriously mounted city notables who accompanied the royal town crier in his public announcements of important events to the city. Courtly ceremonies in Lima were set in motion by the arrival of a royal charter (cédula real) announcing the occasion and specifying the manner and limits of its ceremonial. The date, nature of the event, and the protocol to be followed was then communicated to the city in the ceremony of the pregón. Readings of the cédula real were marked by rituals that treated the artifact with much the same pomp and circumstance deserving of the king. These rituals exercised their “specific effect only when . . . recognized” as such.28 Since the procession always traveled the same prescribed route and stopped before the same official buildings, the pregón symbolically served as a ritual of legitimation by tracing what Michel de Certeau calls a “field of operation,” an authorized official ritual space in which ceremonies were subsequently performed or “staged.”29 In Lima, the carefully laid-out conquistadors’ residences and official buildings around the Plaza Mayor provided a historical genealogy of colonial rule embroidered into a narrative of power by the pregón’s processional route. The procession of luxuriously dressed men, slowly riding beautiful horses and accompanied by soothing music, through the “most important” streets in order to deliver announcements at significant buildings, underlined the centrality of the institutions these buildings represented.30 This “narration in acts,” as it were, generated an aura of colonial power around the Plaza Mayor that was widely recognized and appropriated by the elites and the plebe alike.31 In 1668, Tomasa, a black slave, explained to the Extirpation of Idolatry judge that, in order to fortify the power of her popular divinations, she conjured coca leaves

28. Pierre Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1991), 111–13. 29. Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1988), 122–24. 30. “Relacion de la Jura de Felipe II,” Cuzco 1557, Archivo General de Indias (AGI), Lima 110; “Jura de Felipe II en Lima,” in Colección de documentos inéditos relativos al descubrimiento (Madrid: Imprenta de Frias y Compañia, 1865), 4, 390– 402; Hernando de Valverde, “Relación de las exequias y honrras fúnebres, hechas al . . . Don Philipo tercero,” AGI, Lima 97; “Relacion de la solemnidad y fiestas . . . del Rey . . . Felipe quarto”; “Solemnidad Funebre i Exequias a la muerte del . . . Felipe IV el Grande,” Lima, 1666, Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid (BNM); “Aclamacion y Pendones . . . por el . . . Rey D. Carlos II,” Lima, 1666, 17v, BNP. 31. See also María Antonia Durán Montero, Fundación de ciudades en le Perú durante el siglo XVI (Seville: Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos de Sevilla, 1978); Pagden, Lords of All the World, 44– 45; and Rama, The Lettered City, 1–16. The King in Lima 455 invoking the “seven” devils, naming the streets adjacent to the main city square, and calling aloud “the cathedral, the archbishop’s residence, the viceregal palace, the ecclesiastical chapter, the cabildo, and the gallows.”32 As I have argued elsewhere, in colonial Lima the urban ritual space of official power around the Plaza Mayor could also be appropriated by plebeian women of Afri- can, Spanish, and Andean descent as a field for the mundane practice of popular magic.33 It was in this urban core that (once funding was secured for the ceremony) the city embarked on the construction of elaborate sets and decorations. Lima’s city buildings—particularly those adjacent to the Plaza Mayor—were recon- figured with ephemeral additions such as arches, new walls, altars, plants, colors, and drapings.34 This “staging” also required new lighting, fresh smells, different sounds, and carefully designed costumes for all to wear. As the word connotes today, baroque ceremonial sought to fill every nook and cranny of the urban core with allegorical elements relating to the ceremony in question. Official baroque ceremonies aimed to create radically transformed images of urban space, literally making the city core into a theater. In the parlance of the period, theater was used metaphorically to mean the place where something or someone was exposed to the estimación o censura (the regard or censure) of the world: the Theatrum Publicum. In this culture of public scrutiny, ostentation was the principal marker of status, power, and authority, and appearance became a highly regarded social value. Power was both made manifest in and constituted through the external pomp and circumstance of these ceremonies.35

32. Archivo Arzobispal de Lima (AAL), Section Hechicerías e Idolatrías, 1668, bundle 7, doc. 6, f. 18. 33. Alejandra B. Osorio, “El Callejón de la Soledad: Vectors of Cultural Hybridity in Seventeenth-Century Lima,” in Spiritual Encounters: Interactions between Christianity and Native Religions in Colonial America, ed. Nicholas Griffiths and Fernando Cervantes (Birmingham, UK: Univ. of Birmingham Press, 1999), 198–229. 34. Rafael Ramos Sosa, Arte festivo en Lima virreinal (siglos XVI–XVII) (Seville: Junta de Andalucía, 1992), 17–19. See also Guillermo Lohmann Villena, La Semana Santa de Lima (Lima: Banco de Crédito del Perú, 1996), and La fiesta en el arte (Lima: Banco de Crédito del Perú, 1994); Luis Eduardo Wuffarden, “La ciudad y sus emblemas: Imagenes del criollismo en el Virreinato del Perú,” in Los siglos de oro, 59–76; and Kagan, Urban Images, 173. 35. In this, Lima was no different from European cities such as Paris and London during the same period; see Richard Sennett, The Fall of Public Man (New York: Norton, 1974), 3–5 and 12 – 88. It could be argued that the officials participating in these ceremonies possessed power in “proportion to the recognition they received from” the colonial subjects observing the ceremony. Luxurious clothing played an important role as marker of distinction; Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, 106, and Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1984), part 1. 456 HAHR / August / Osorio

Moreover, the designs for and writings about new colonial urban centers such as Lima provided social commentary on how the city—and its society— should ideally function. As a result, Spanish and creole chroniclers predictably begin to exaggerate the orderly, unified perfection and the lavish magnificence of the ceremonies and the city. But there was more to the city than its official appearances. Beyond the desired magnificence of baroque representations and perfect designs of the city lay another urban reality: a city of crowded rooms in unim- pressive buildings. The callejones (alleys with numerous rooms situated around a common patio) were an important feature of colonial Lima’s housing ar- rangements.36 Entire families lived in single small rooms, one next to another, turning private lives into public knowledge. These interior spaces—occupied by poor criollos and mestizos, Andean migrants, and people of African descent— were the breeding ground of an urban hybrid culture that coexisted with the courtly culture of official ceremonies in Lima.37 Plebeian alley-dwellers were the targets of the civilizing and disciplining campaigns carried out in the seventeenth century by both the Extirpation of Idolatry and the Inquisition. These callejones lent the city the character of a labyrinth of “interior”—more private—plebeian cultural stages (“mundos interiores”) just beyond the more public stage of colonial power in the plaza.38 Callejón culture notwithstanding, during royal ceremonies colonial officials and citizens worked to transform the city into a public political theater, a transformation that implicated many quotidian practices and spaces. Official baroque celebrations were expensive endeavors. Royal attempts to curb the excessive cost of such courtly ceremonies generated an endless procession of royal decrees advising cities to cut costs and reduce their displays of “magnificence.”39 But, the king’s discourse of fiscal contrition seems playfully at odds with the cultural and social meaning of these displays of opulence and the

36. María Antonia Durán Montero, “Lima en 1613: Aspectos urbanos,” Anuario de Estudios Americanos (Seville) 49, no. 7 (1992): 177–88. 37. For an analysis of this plebeian Lima, see Osorio, “El Callejón de la Soledad.” See also Paul Charney, “El indio urbano: Un análisis económico y social de la población india de Lima en 1613,” Histórica (Lima) 12, no. 1 (1988): 9 and 11–16; and Teresa Vergara Ormeño, “Migración y trabajo femenino a principios del siglo XVII: El caso de las Indias de Lima,” Histórica (Lima) 12, no. 1: 135–57. 38. Panfichi and Portocarrero, eds., Mundos interiores. 39. Spain issued ordenanzas regulating the excessive cost of these ceremonies in 1588, 1674, 1684, and 1691. José Manuel Baena Gallé, Exequias reales en la catedral de Sevilla durante el siglo XVII (Seville: Arte Hispalense, 1992), 31. See also Recopilación de leyes de los reynos de Las Indias: 1681, libro IV, título XIII, ley x. The King in Lima 457 required ostentatiousness of these ceremonies.40 City officials often com- plained to the king and to other city officials about the strains that these pro- ductions put on the city’s budget.41 Nevertheless, as a rule cities incurred huge debts to carry out the celebration in the “appropriate manner” official protocol required.42 Normally, colonial and church officials paid for considerable por- tions of the ceremony out of their own pockets when city and crown coffers were empty.43 Although many sought reimbursement, few cases ever reached a satisfactory conclusion.44 Nevertheless, since these public celebrations were thought to reflect the “sadness” or “happiness” of the city toward the king, each time the occasion arose cities and subjects alike assumed production costs. The magnificence of the ceremony also sent a strong message to rival cities that their city had achieved economic dominance and “social magnificence.” Cabildos fostered the collective image of their cities and built a historical mem- ory of their constitution as a “body” or harmonious community through elaborate civic rituals but also chronicles and urban histories.45 Thus, the reluc- tance to curb ceremonial expenses should be understood in the context of the political significance the relaciones de fiestas had for the power that cities such as Lima exercised over smaller provincial ones. Furthermore, such baroque displays of wealth have often been interpreted from a purely economic rationale of cost and benefits.46 Such calculations, however, ignore the fact that through these public displays of wealth and luxury cities and subjects stood to accumu- late the symbolic capital required to exert power over rivaling cities, which in turn could bring additional material benefit in the form of privileges and favors

40. The king’s requests for fiscal attrition and reduced displays of affluence on the part of his subjects seem more a rhetorical device aimed at preserving his own image as a good and fair lord. See, for example, Sucesos del Año 1619, “Relacion,” 80, BNM. 41. On the lack of funds for ceremonies in the cabildo of Santiago de Chile, see Cruz de Amenábar, La fiesta, 38– 41. 42. See, for example, Etiquetta Real de Palacio, BNM, and Marquéz de Guadalcazar, “Relación de los Estilos y Tratamientos de que usan los Virreyes del Peru . . . ,” BNM. 43. Osorio, “Inventing Lima,” chap. 3. 44. Two examples are “Parroquia del Sagrario y los Gastos q hicieron en el Recibimiento del Arcobispo Gonzalo de Campo,” AAL, Curatos, 1625, bundle 12, doc. 3; and “Exhibicion de todos los procesos fulminados con referencias a las exequias de Santo Toribio de Mogrovejo,” AAL, Papeles Importantes –Lima 1606/1609, I, 25. 45. Fernando Bouza, Los Austrias Mayores: Imperio y monarquía de Carlos I y Felipe II (Madrid: Historia 16, 1996), 53, and “Para no olvidar y para hacerlo: La conservación de la memoria a comienzos de la edad moderna,” in Bouza, Imagen y propaganda, 26–57. 46. See William Beezley, ed., Rituals of Power/Rituals of Rule (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1994). 458 HAHR / August / Osorio granted by their new king. The social magnificence of baroque cities was based on a combination of real wealth, symbolic capital, and patronage from the met- ropolitan court.

The Royal Exequies, the Proclamation, and Kingly Rule

Ritual in the seventeenth century, according to Peter Burke, was viewed as “a kind of drama, which had to be staged in order to encourage obedience.”47 Seventeenth-century Lima’s ceremonial calendar included over three hundred annual fiestas.48 Those particularly related to the life cycle of the king and his royal family included the celebration and commemoration of births, marriages, baptisms, and deaths, and prayers for their health and well-being. Those related to the life cycle of the monarchy included the celebration of military victories, royal patron saints, and the new king’s Proclamation. Royal ceremonies provided rulers with an opportunity to momentarily enact utopian designs of urban space and polity.49 Two of the more majestic and costly ceremonies staged in colonial Lima were the Royal Exequies and the king’s Proclamation. In the Spanish Habs- burg dominions, these ceremonies constituted paramount occasions for cities as corporate bodies—both social and political—to display their power by staging elaborate and expensive ceremonies (which sometimes lasted as long as a year) designed to grieve the passing of one king and celebrate the ascent of another. The ostentatiousness of public ceremonies reflected the city’s power and demonstrated the city’s loyalty to its king. In a similar manner, the magnificence displayed by the king’s subjects, in their dress and in their contribution to the decorations of the city, was thought to reflect the degree of their love for and loyalty to the king. Great displays of grief during Royal Exequies were seen as a form of public and individual repayment for mercedes (favors) granted by the dead king to the city and his subjects. This was also manifested in the sumptuous dress of the alférez real (standard bearer) and his entourage during the king’s Proclamation. In the cédula real sent to Lima announcing the death of Philip IV and the

47. Peter Burke, The Fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1992), 7. 48. Rosa María Acosta de Arias Schreiber, Fiestas coloniales urbanas (Lima, Cuzco, Potosí) (Lima: Otorongo Producciones, 1997), 55–56. This seems to have also been the case in Santiago de Chile; see Cruz de Amenábar, La fiesta. 49. The utopian polity described in the relaciones de fiestas was envisioned as “orderly,” “clean,” “beautiful,” “grandiose,” and “unified”; see de la Flor, Barroco, 161– 82. The King in Lima 459 succession of Carlos II to the throne of Spain (dated October 24, 1665), the queen mother explained that the custom of the Proclamation dated back to 1407, when the Duque of Alva, Don Fadrique of Toledo, had raised the standard for Philip I “the Handsome” with the cry, “Castile, Castile, Castile for the King our lord!”50 In medieval Avila, kings were first elected by the nobility and later proclaimed by the people. The custom of meeting in private to organize the celebrations surrounding the death of the old king and proclamation of the new one, according to Angus MacKay, has its roots in the medieval tradition wherein nobles and oligarchs decided in private whether to accept the new king and then “act[ed] out the traditional rituals in public.”51 This amounted to the “election” of the new monarch, who then pledged to uphold the fueros (privileges) of the land and to grant new ones; through the Proclamation, the people accepted their new ruler and pledged to defend, love, and honor him.52 The Proclamation was, therefore, a mutual oath of loyalty between king and subjects. Following this long tradition, after the cédula arrived announcing the death of the old king and the succession of a new one to the throne, audiencia and cabildo members in Lima met privately in their respective offices to read the announcement and acknowledge the new king. This symbolic private election and public acceptance of the new king seems to follow the logic laid out in the account of the Proclamation of Philip II in Cuzco in 1557. The scribe notes several times that his account was made to comply with the dictates of tradition and that it be later sent to the new king as a testimony of the city’s approval of his succession.53 In seventeenth-century Lima, preparations for the celebration of the Royal Exequies and the king’s Proclamation could not commence until the official cédula real arrived.54 The death of Carlos II was known in Lima for sev-

50. “Aclamacion y Pendones . . . Carlos II.” Carlos M. N. Eire traces its origins to 1366 in From Madrid to Purgatory: The Art and Craft of Dying in Sixteenth-Century Spain (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1995), 297. 51. Angus MacKay, “Ritual and Propaganda in Fifteenth-Century Castile,” Past and Present 107 (1985): 19. 52. Ibid., 22. 53. “Relacion de la Jura de Felipe II.” During the seventeenth century, the relación appears to take on a more didactic and propagandistic role, ceasing to function as testimony of the vassal’s acceptance of the new king. 54. This seems not to have been the case in the sixteenth century; see D. Angulo, “Exequias de Carlos V. en la Ciudad de los Reyes,” Revista del Archivo Nacional del Perú 8, no. 2 ( July–Dec. 1935): 137. 460 HAHR / August / Osorio eral weeks before the formal announcement reached the city.55 In spite of the news, and of the grief that the Viceroy Count of la Monclova felt he should for- mally express, he was nonetheless obliged to await the arrival of the royal charter before publicly announcing the king’s death. The viceroy questioned the initial news of the king’s death, at the risk of subjecting his loyalty to scrutiny, since, according to the chronicler, the newsletter did not possess the authority needed to convene the official mourning. The viceroy’s action is understand- able, considering the decision to honor the king’s death in a public ceremony was not his alone. Upon receipt of the royal decree, the viceroy needed first to communicate the death and succession to the audiencia and the cabildo, so that they in turn could acknowledge the death of the old king and approve the succession of the new by scheduling the dates for the ceremonies.56 The royal charter finally arrived on May 6, 1701. At seven o’clock the next morning, the members of the audiencia and the cabildo met privately to acknowledge the charter, and a pregón was ordered to announce it to the city.57

The Royal Exequies

In the baroque period, death (like life) was celebrated in a theatrical way. In the late sixteenth century, Philip II transformed the Royal Exequies into an ofﬁcial ritual to be celebrated not only in Madrid but also in all the cities of his realm. This allowed the Spanish monarchy to exalt its absolute power at the same time that it facilitated the invention of a myth of origin for the new Habsburg dynasty.58 The celebration of the Royal Exequies was as much a rite of succession

55. José de Buendía noted that the viceroy had learned of the king’s death from two newsletters dated Nov. 2 and 3, 1700, and that reached Lima on April 27, 1701; “Parentacion real al . . . Carlos II,” Lima, 1701, ff. 19 – 21, BNCh. 56. After 1701 Lima’s viceroys no longer sought the consensus of the cabildo or the audiencia. 57. Ibid., 21–25. 58. See María Jesús Mejías Alvarez, “Muerte regia en cuatro ciudades peruanas del barroco,” Anuario de Estudios Americanos (Seville) 49 (1992): 190. Presumably Charles V “invented” the dynastic genealogy in Europe while Philip II created the royal crypt at the Escorial, thus establishing the physical “evidence” for his geneology, a source of power and authority for the monarchy. See José Antonio Maravall, Carlos V y el pensamiento político del renacimiento (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Políticos, 1960); Eire, From Madrid to Purgatory, 255–82; Javier Varela, La muerte del rey: El ceremonial funerario de la monarquía española, 1500–1885 (Madrid: Turner, 1990); and Catherie Wilkson Zerner, “Body and Soul in the Basilica of the Escorial,” in The World Made Image: Religion, Art, and Architecture in Spain and Spanish America, 1500–1600 (Boston: Gardner Museum, 1998), 66–90. The King in Lima 461 as it was a funeral, and it reminded everyone of their mortality, not least that of the monarch himself, in spite of the fact that his kingship seemed to endure beyond his earthly life.59 It is important to underscore the Spanish king’s mortality, since his vulnerability before death contrasts with the apparent immortal- ity of the French kings. While the elaborate state ritual surrounding the French king’s death was meant to underscore the superhuman or sacred nature of the monarchy, the Spanish ceremonial underscored the king’s human vulnerability before God.60 The colorful regalia worn by the French king signified his im- mortality, while the black dress of the Spanish king signified his mortality. By never publicly dying, the French king may have created a distance from his subjects that does not seem to have been the case with the Spanish monarch.61 In Madrid, the king in black lay in state for several days, while in the cities of his realms his death was represented by an urn covered with a rich cloth symboliz- ing the ashes of his decomposed body. His living soul, however, was omni- present in the paintings and artifacts that decorated his catafalque.62 Royal Exequies were exterior manifestations of both loyalty and power. It was expected that those who benefited most from God and the king would make greater demonstrations of sadness or joy. This sentiment was expressed by Pedro Ramírez in a eulogy he delivered on the occasion of the Exequies of Queen Margarita. Ramírez argued that, although all people were indebted to God, their debt depended on how much they had received from him. It fol-

59. Eire, From Madrid to Purgatory, 296; Steven N. Orso, Art and Death at the Spanish Habsburg Court: The Royal Exequies for Philip IV (Columbia: Univ. of Missouri Press, 1989). 60. On the divine nature of the French monarch, see Ralph E. Giesey, The Royal Funeral Ceremony in Renaissance France (Geneva: Librairie E. Droz, 1960). On the mortality of the Spanish monarch, see, for example, “Sermon Panegirico Fvneral a . . . Philipo IV,” Lima, 1667, BNCh; and “Sermon qve el Padre Maestro Fray Pedro Ramirez . . . predico en las exeqvias . . . de Margarita de Austria,” Lima, 1613, BNCh. 61. In Spain, as in Lima, the details of the king’s illness and decomposing body were very much part of the story of his death and Exequies; see Varela, La muerte del rey; and Eire, From Madrid to Purgatory. See also Cipriano de Medina, “Oracion en Memoria de las Zenizas de D. Isabel de Borbon,” Lima, 1645, BNCh. 62. See Adita Alló Manero, “Aportación al estudio de las exequias reales en Hispanoamérica: La influencia sevillana en algunos túmulos limeños y mexicanos,” Anuario del Departamento de Historia y Teoría del Arte (Madrid) 1 (1989): 121– 37; Baena Gallé, Exequias Reales; Carmelo Lisón Tolosana, La imagen del Rey: Monarquía, realeza y poder ritual en la Casa de los Austrias (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1991); Mejías Alvarez, “Muerte rejia en cuatro ciudades,” 189–205; Orso, Art and Death; Varela, La muerte del rey; and Santiago Sebastián, Contrarreforma y barroco: Lecturas iconográficas e iconológicas (Madrid: Alianza, 1985), 110 – 20. 462 HAHR / August / Osorio lowed, therefore, that since queens and kings received the most from God, they had a larger obligation to make greater displays of grief.63 Sadness, however, was not expressed by a show of emotion, but rather by a show of ostentation reflected in the proportions of the catafalque and in the length and qual- ity of the mourning dress. Mourning clothes worn by all in the city were used both to symbolize obedience and respect for the deceased and also to mark the social hierarchy at work in the city. Baroque ceremonial costumes—if we understand these sumptuous mourning dresses as such—were meant to establish or reaffirm publicly the qualities of the persons wearing them. It was also widely held that proper attire pre- served the proper order of society. Since 1614, the Spanish crown financed mourning robes for officials.64 However, officials, nobles, and gentlemen were expected to distribute mourning dress to their households, including ser- vants.65 Social differences were evident in the length of the robes and the fab- ric used to manufacture them. The dimensions of the robe were important. Long robes were associated with authority, and the longer the robe, the more authority its wearer possessed. They should be long enough to touch the ground and wide enough to regulate the distance between rows during the processions, lending uniformity by regulating pace. Important city and colonial officials, for example, wore long velvet robes with great hoods (capirotes) and ample sleeves, while lesser officials wore shorter robes made of mere flannel (bayeta). The poor were expected to wear dark colors and a hat. In his Empresas, the seventeenth-century Spanish political writer Diego Saavedra y Fajardo argued that “appearance” was essential for the proper “divi- sion of society” and that “sumptuosity” was the marker of high status or “reputation.”66 Reputation and justice were essential for inspiring and maintaining

63. “Sermon que el Padre Maestro Fray Pedro Ramirez. . . .” 64. Viceroy Hurtado de Mendoza (1555–61) ﬁrst regulated protocol for royal funerals in Lima in 1559; “Provision de Don Hurtado de Mendoça Virrey del Peru—Lutos del Rey,” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 3, AHML. In 1584 the crown decreed that mourning robes (lobas) for royal funerals should be paid by the cities ofﬁciating the ceremonies. In 1614 the king decreed that the mourning robes should be paid by the crown, since it was a matter of state; see libro 4, título 13, ley 10, Recopilación de leyes; and “Cédula Real sobre lutos [1614],” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 3, AHML. The crown also forbade the use of lobas and catafalques in the funerals of viceroys, royal magistrates, or their wives; libro. 3, título 15, ley 103, Recopilación de leyes. 65. “Cédula Real sobre lutos [1614].” 66. Diego de Saavedra y Fajardo, Idea de un príncipe político-cristiano representada en cien empresas (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1960), vol. 2, empresa 31, 61– 62 and empresa 21, 57, 67. The power of splendid costumes was quickly adopted by the Incas. See Thomas B. F. The King in Lima 463

“la obediencia a la majestad,” both temporal and divine, as well as for preserving the faith—all key elements for the successful governing of the people. Author- ity was defined as ostentation; wearing the robes reflected one’s status, and dis- tributing robes to one’s household demonstrated patriarchal power.67 Chroni- clers of these occasions described the ceremonial clothing at great length and in minute detail—down to the color, shape, and size of each stone adorning someone’s hat. Each detail manifested the power and authority of the person being described. In this physical wearing of power, as it were, lay the founda- tion of a great deal of regal and imperial power and authority, and we can safely assume of colonial power as well. On October 8, 1621, Lima’s cathedral bell slowly tolled one hundred times, announcing Philip III’s death. Every church bell in the city answered, and the public life of the city came to a sudden halt.68 City and crown officials disappeared from public view until their mourning robes, signs of loyalty and love for the king, were made. All buildings had to be dressed in black, and even interiors had, in some cases, to be dressed in mourning. In Lima’s viceregal palace, the viceroy’s bedroom (down to his bed sheets) had to be black.69 Like- wise, the interior walls and windows of all colonial and city offices were covered in black. According to one account, by creating an absence of color and texture—or by eliminating the church and the city from view—the black cloth made real and tangible the passing of the king.70 The catafalque was perhaps the only colorful structure in the Exequies. It was a construction of monumental dimensions, and in Lima it was usually

Cummings, “We are the Other: Peruvian Portraits of Colonial Kurakakuna,” Transatlantic Encounters: European and Andeans in the Sixteenth Century, ed. Kenneth J. Andrien and Rolena Adorno (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1991), 203–31. Mulattoes, mestizos, poor Spaniards, and Indians also all appear to have adopted a code of conspicuous dressing in Lima; see, for example, “Provision Real para que los Mulatos, Mulatas, Negros, ni Negras no vistan ni traigan Grana, Seda ni Oro,” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 3, AHML. 67. Funerals became another marker of status and power in Lima. In 1605 Viceroy Count of Monterrey (1604–6) issued a long provision regulating the uses and abuses of elaborate and expensive funeral ceremonies by the common people of Lima, arguing it was disorderly and “contrary to the authority of Spaniards and leading citizens”; “Provision y pragmatica delos lutos [1605],” Cédulas y Provisiones, book 4, AHML. 68. “Relación de las exequias . . . Philipo tercero.” 69. This was done by Viceroy Conde de la Monclova for Carlos II’s Exequies in 1701; “Parentación Real . . . Carlos II.” 70. “Relación de las exequias . . . Philipo tercero.” 464 HAHR / August / Osorio

Figure 1. Drawing or sketch of the catafalque for Philip III’s exequies in Lima in 1621, by Luis Ortiz de Vargas. Archivo General de Indias.

placed in the central nave of the cathedral.71 Thousands of candles lit the mas- sive structure on the day of the ceremony, reminding everyone that life (ephemeral as lit candles) burned bright and intense for but a limited time, and that death was inevitable, even for a king.72 The contrast of the darkness of the church and the brightness of the catafalque evoked the triumph of life over death; these symbols could refer not only to the king but also to each one of his subjects.

71. Charles V’s catafalque in Lima, built in the shape of a Greek cross, measured 34 feet across and approximately 70 feet high and comprised two floors filled with columns, pedestals, arches, and ladders. Other royal catafalques built in Lima during the seventeenth century were equally monumental; see Ramos Sosa, Arte festivo en Lima, 123–200; and Varela, La muerte del rey, 115. See also Strong, Art and Power, 42–64. 72. Catafalque iconography changed after the Council of Trent in 1570: crowns of laurels began to represent the triumph of death, while skulls and bones were used to instill fear. This was the case in Quito in 1613; four death statues placed in the catafalque for Queen Margarita of Austria were described as being so real that they provoked “great horror and fright”; Pedro Rodríguez Crespo, “Una fiesta religiosa en Quito: Relación de los funerales de la Reina Margarita de Austria (1612),” Boletín del Instituto Riva Agüero (Lima) 3 (1956). I am indebted to Martín Monslave for a copy of this transcription. See also Varela, La muerte del rey, 111; and Santiago Sebastián, “El triunfo de la muerte,” in Contrarreforma y barroco: Lecturas iconográficas e iconológicas (Madrid: Alianza, 1985), 93–125. The King in Lima 465

According to Josephe de Mugaburu’s account, Philip IV’s Exequies were celebrated in Lima with as much solemnity and grandeur as in the king’s own court. The ceremonies began with a military procession of five companies of the battalion, each with 100 men dressed in black mourning uniforms. These 500 men were followed by 254 colonial officials, creole elites, and clergy dressed in long black funeral cloaks. An artillery shot was fired every hour on the hour for two days in the nearby port of Callao. The cathedral bells tolled one hundred tolls every hour, answered by all the churches in the city. Mugaburu re- ports that 2,031 pounds of wax were consumed in the catafalque alone for the ceremony. In addition, each religious order in the city received one hundred pounds of wax—one hundred candles of one pound each—as they came into the cathedral to say mass and sing a responsory. All other city parishes were given 50 one-pound candles for their observances.73 The royal funeral’s central ceremony took place on Thursday afternoon, when the full communities of the city’s four religious orders proceeded to the cathedral, holding crosses and led by images of their respective patron saints dressed in mourning. Archbishop Pedro de Villagómez followed in a long train, wearing a large hat over his clergyman’s cap. He was followed by a procession of more than four hundred secular clergy in surplices and prebends and canons dressed in long cloaks of black taffeta. But undoubtedly, the most spectacular feature of the ceremony was the catafalque built in the central nave of the cathedral, which rose all the way to the copula. The catafalque was a great piece of architecture, with room for more than three thousand candles. In addition, the entire cathedral interior was hung with drapings of black damask and Sevillian gold coins, while the ceiling and dome were covered with black buckram.74 The catafalque was inscribed with political meanings. Philip III’s catafalque depicted the destiny of the king: “His victories and world achievements, the tracks of his enduring fame, and his happy entrance into eternal beatitude.” It was adorned with many paintings depicting “the principal histories and events that occurred during the king’s rule.” Because these events had taken place, according to the official chronicler, by explicit order of the king, they constituted a testimony to his good government, good sense, and success as a ruler. The paintings highlighted the king’s triumphant entries into different European cities and the many coats of arms of all his kingdoms.75

73. Josephe de Mugaburu, Chronicle of Colonial Lima: The Diary of Josephe and Francisco de Mugaburu, 1640–1697 (Norman: Univ. of Oklahoma Press, 1975), 102–5. 74. “Solemnidad Funebre i Exequias . . . Felipe IV”; Mugaburu, Chronicle of Colonial Lima, 103 75. “Relación de las exequias . . . Philipo tercero.” 466 HAHR / August / Osorio

Since these representations only included the king’s “achievements,” such “favorable” representations of his rule suggest an attempt to rewrite its history in positive terms in the minds of his subjects.76 Panegyrics delivered during the Royal Exequies also reinterpreted the dead king’s life and oeuvre. These adu- latory sermons were lessons in history delineating the genealogy of empire, reciting past kings’ military achievements and worldly virtues before recounting the victories and virtues of the most recent dead king. Although they were censored before publication, on occasion these panegyrics managed to be crit- ical of the king’s rule. In 1666, Miguel Sanz Breton equated the death of Philip IV with the absence of “much sun” in the kingdoms of Peru.77 While Sanz Bre- ton might have been metaphorically referring only to the void caused by the king’s death, the idea of weak sun rays barely reaching distant kingdoms was commonly deployed to note disapprovingly the Spanish king’s rule.78 Philip III’s catafalque exhibited numerous royal coats of arms strategically placed around the damask-covered urn representing the king’s ashes and his majesty. In this representation of the dead king, what seemed to survive him was not justice, as with the French king (symbolized by the lit de justice), but his dynasty or royal genealogy symbolized in the innumerable coats of arms.79 The coats of arms associated him with other kings and royal houses of Europe; in this way, the Habsburgs extolled their dynastic lineage as one more source of their power and authority. In Peru, the power of lineage was clearly understood. Charles V, Philip II, and so on were grafted on the Inca genealogy of

76. Lorraine Madway, “The Remaking of Majesty: Oliver Cromwell and the Visual Imagery of Monarchy” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the North American Society for Court Studies, Boston, MA, September 2000). On Philip III’s reign, see Paul C. Allen, Philip III and the Pax Hispanica, 1598–1621: The Failure of the Grand Strategy (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 2000). 77. “Sermon Panegvirico . . . Filipo IV,” Lima, 1667, BNCh. This is an interesting document, since the introductions written by the church ofﬁcials who approved it for publication constantly allude to a more political and incendiary version of the spoken sermon. 78. See Gil Pugol, “Una cultura,” 231. 79. Sarah Hanley, “Legend, Ritual, and Discourse in the Lit de Justice Assembly: French Constitutional Ideology, 1527–1641,” and Ralph E. Giesey, “Models of Rulership in French Royal Ceremonial,” in Rites of Power: Symbolism, Ritual, and Politics since the Middle Ages, ed. Sean Wilentz (Philadelphia: Univ. of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 65–106 and 41–64. As Richard Trexler has noted, coats of arms brought “social honor to the families they represented”; Public Life in Renaissance Florence (Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press, 1980), 92. See also Maravall, Carlos V, 102 –12. The King in Lima 467

Manco Capac as the rightful heirs of the Inca Empire in colonial iconographic depictions of the dynasty of Peru.80 The importance of this lineage was also present in royal portraits often placed around the catafalque, alternating with the coat of arms. In the Royal Exequies celebrated in Quito for Queen Margarita of Austria in 1613, the Habs- burg dynasty was represented by 27 portraits of kings—from Pepino I, Duke of Bravantia, to Philip II. These life-sized portraits were copied from a book of estampas (portraits) with great care toward faithfully reproducing the historical accuracy of “their original dresses and other details.” The life-sized copies, according to the chronicler, were “perfect and living copies of the copies in the book,” making them the best and most “live” (vivos) portraits in the kingdom.81 The faithful, near-to-life copy made these portraits not only authentic, but “live”; the images possessed the aura of those represented.82

The King’s Proclamation

While the portraits of the king’s forefathers and the royal coats of arms con- nected the dead king to his ancestors and the great royal houses of Europe, the single royal portrait placed on the throne under a gold canopy in the center stage of Lima’s Plaza Mayor located the living king in the heart of the city. For Philip IV’s Proclamation, the very large stage built in front of the viceregal palace and close to the cabildo measured 20 yards long, 15 yards wide, and 2.5 yards high. On each corner of this stage stood a colorful silk-covered pyramid

80. See Catherine Julien, Reading Inca History (Iowa City: Univ. of Iowa Press, 2000), particularly chap. 3. See also Cummins, “We Are the Other,” 203–31, and “A Tale of Two Cities: Cuzco, Lima, and the Construction of Colonial Representation,” in Converging Cultures: Art and Identity in Spanish America (Brooklyn: The Brooklyn Museum, 1996); Teresa Gisbert, Iconografía y mitos indígenas (La Paz: Gisbert, 1980); and John Howland Rowe, “Colonial Portraits of Inca Nobles,” in The Civilizations of Ancient America: Selected Papers, ed. Sol Tax (New York: Cooper Square, 1967). 81. Rodríguez Crespo, “Una ﬁesta religiosa en Quito,” 217. 82. According to Walter Benjamin, a reproduction has no presence, no historicity, and ultimately, no authority; “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations, 217–51. In the seventeenth century, however, a reproduction was not conceptualized as removed from the essence of that which was being reproduced. The reproduction was “real.” The notion of “aura” or “uniqueness” or essence of the reproduction is applicable here. See also also Baudrillard, “The Precession of Simulacra”; and Serge Gruzinski, The Mestizo Mind: The Intellectual Dynamics of Colonization and Globalization (New York: Routledge, 2002). 468 HAHR / August / Osorio

12 yards high and 1.5 yards wide, with each apex surmounted by a sphere adorned with roses, taffeta, satins, and silks. The proportions of the stage and the luxurious decorations attested to the king’s majesty, while the rectangular platform, the roses, and the pyramids evoked his perfection. On top of this “perfect” stage stood a smaller one measuring 14 yards long by 8 yards wide, with four Doric columns supporting the canopy under which the king’s throne was placed on a Persian rug. The walls of this section were covered with pink satin drapes, on which hung numerous portraits of the king’s forefathers. On the two front columns supporting the canopy were two “giant” statues depicting the “two most illustrious” cities of the kingdom: Lima and Cuzco. Each statue held a crown in its hands, tilted slightly toward the canopy, “as in a grateful offering to the king in his living portrait, which they respected no less than his original.”83 Although Lima and Cuzco appear here crowning the king on equal foot- ing, as it were, the ceremonial fact that the ritual gesture took place in Lima and not Cuzco is more significant. The ceremony endowed Lima with symbolic capital and aura, which it could emanate to the rest of the viceroyalty. In this iconography, the colonial and Inca capitals were both included under the overarching power of the king, thus creating a Trinitarian unity. For Carlos II’s Proclamation in 1666, this iconography changed to figures of the Inca offering an imperial crown and the Coya (or “Inca Queen”) presenting a crown of flow- ers to their king.84 By this time, cities had experienced a considerable erosion of their power and autonomy under Philip IV’s reign.85 The iconographic re- placement of Lima and Cuzco by images of the Inca and the Coya might reflect this change. However, this shift also coincides with the increased legitimacy that imagery of the Incas as imperial icons enjoyed in Europe and Peru.86

83. “Relacion de la solemnidad y ﬁestas . . . del Rey . . . Felipe quarto.” 84. “Aclamacion y Pendones . . . Carlos II.” For the Incas as imperial icons, see Carlos E. Espinosa Fernández de Córdoba, “La mascarada del Inca: Una investigación acerca del teatro político de la colonia,” Miscelanea Histórica Ecuatoriana 2 no. 2 (1989): 17–21; and Carolyn Dean, Inka Bodies and the Body of Christ: Corpus Christi in Colonial Cuzco, Peru (Durham: Duke Univ. Press, 1999). 85. Pilar Latasa Vassallo, Administración virreinal en el Perú: Gobierno del Marqués de Montesclaros (1607–1615) (Madrid: Editorial Centro de Estudios Ramón Areces, 1997), 118 – 53. 86. See Manuel Burga, Nacimiento de una utopía: Muerte y resurrección de los incas (Lima: Instituto de Apoyo Agrario, 1988); Espinosa Fernández de Córdoba, “La mascarada del Inca”; and Alejandra B. Osorio, “A Tale of Two Cities: Lima and Cuzco’s Rivalry to Represent the Seventeenth-Century Patria Peruana” (paper presented to the 1st The King in Lima 469

Ultimately, this shift in representations suggests the final consolidation of Lima’s undisputed place as the center of power in the viceroyalty of Peru.87 Philip IV’s Proclamation was celebrated in Lima on Sunday, February 6, 1622, nearly two months after Philip III’s Exequies had taken place. Between the Exequies and the Proclamation, processions of clergymen cloaked in black—accompanied by mournful music, choruses, and incense from different churches—filed through the city streets day and night. This mournful atmo- sphere, however, rapidly switched to one of exuberance as the city prepared to acclaim their new king. On Friday, February 4, a pregón announced that on the next day all residents should go out and cheer the news of Philip IV’s Procla- mation with special fiesta torches, fireworks, and other joyful “inventions” according to “the possibilities and desires of each.” Immediately thereafter, and in contrast to the Exequies, the cathedral’s bell tolls were joyous, people shed their mourning robes for colorful and luxurious clothing, and buildings changed their black drapings for rich and colorful Persian rugs, Flemish coverlets, and Chinese silks. Gold-embroidered velvets hung from windows and balconies, from which the ladies could eye the luxuriously dressed gentleman strolling down in the square.88 The entrance of the alférez real into the plaza, holding the luxurious royal standard featuring the royal coats of arms on one side and Lima’s coat of arms (three crowns and one star) on the other, marked the beginning of the culmi- nating act of the Proclamation. Accompanied by two alcaldes ordinarios and cabildo members, the alférez climbed the stairs leading to the podium where the king sat. Standing before the king’s portrait, the alférez then bowed three times, waving the standard after each bow. Kneeling before the president of the audiencia (oidor), he then declared: “This City of the Kings comes in fulfill- ment of what His Majesty orders and according to this obligation and fidelity to raise standards for its King, and natural Lord, the King Don Philip IV whose name may God protect for many years.” The king, “speaking through the voice of the oidor,” acknowledged the city’s fidelity and love for him as evi- denced by its “great demonstrations of jubilation, and fiestas, and such excessive expenses” and pledged to uphold the city’s old privileges and grant her new ones in the future. Taking the royal standard from the alférez real, the oidor

International Interdisciplinary Symposium of the Colonial American Studies Organization, Georgetown Univ., Oct. 9, 2003). 87. See Osorio, “Inventing Lima.” 88. “Relacion de la solemnidad y ﬁestas . . . del Rey . . . Felipe quarto.” 470 HAHR / August / Osorio stepped up before the king and exclaimed: “Castille, León, Piru, for the King our Lord Philip may god keep him for many years!” The people shouted in response: “¡Long live the king our Lord Philip the Fourth; may the King live for many happy years!”89

The King’s Portrait and the Exercise of Royal Power

Roman de Herrera placed singular importance on the size and ornamentation of the frame of Philip IV’s portrait.90 Since the Renaissance, gilded frames were markers of status. The frame was an essential aspect of the virtue of the image, bestowing social honor on the person circumscribed by it.91 In Lima, Philip VI’s painting showed him with his upper body inclined and dressed in purple, a posture and color associated with royalty. Although the portrait was of the king’s entire body, Herrera only emphasized its upper half—more speciﬁcally his face—noting that his half-smile (also a royal gesture) conveyed a look of authority.92 The chronicle recounting Carlos II’s Proclamation in 1666 also notes that the king’s portrait “[r]epresented majesty, empire, and dominion.”93 Descriptions of the portraits of both Philip IV and Carlos II emphasize the kings’ eyes, suggesting that one could get to the essence of the king through the vivid depiction of his expressive eyes.94 In 1641 Antonio de León Pinelo explained that the face revealed the nature of a person as a whole, both spiritual and physical, “because everything is condensed in the body, and in [the face] is concentrated all the perfections that are distributed throughout the other members.”95 In Pinelo’s opinion, one could reach a person’s soul through his or her eyes. Citing Ovid, Pinelo argued that the face was the locus of affection

89. Ibid. 90. Ibid. 91. Richard Trexler, Public Life, 92. 92. “Relacion de la solemnidad y fiestas . . . del Rey . . . Felipe quarto.” For the importance of royal and aristocratic portraits in baroque Spain, see Alfonso Sánchez Coello y el retrato en la corte de Felipe II. On the importance of paintings and portraiture in creating an imperial identity in New Spain, see Michael J. Schreffler, “Art and Allegiance in Baroque New Spain” (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Chicago, 2000). 93. “Aclamacion y Pendones . . . Carlos II.” 94. The portrait of Carlos II depicted him as a young boy, “with eyes like stars”; ibid., 36r–v. 95. Antonio de León Pinelo, “Velos Antiguos i modernos en los rostros de las mugeres sus con ueniencias i daños. Ilustracion De la Real Prematica de las Tapadas,” Madrid, 1641, 72, BNCh. The King in Lima 471 communicated through the eyes of men and women.96 He described the head as comprising the whole body, although its limits were understood to end at the collar.”97 The notion of the head as the total sum of the body is reflected in the political theory of the time, where the king embodied, as the “head,” the totality of his kingdoms and powers.98 For Pinelo, to show one’s face was to “uncover” (descubrir), both in the sense of discovery and in the sense of revealing oneself to others. During the seventeenth century, both in Spain and in Lima, royal portraits increasingly presided over royal ceremonies in place of the absent king. The success of this substitution is illustrated by the incident that occurred during the Neapolitan rebellion of 1647, when the rebels themselves saved the royal portraits of Philip IV from the flames of the burning royal palace they had ignited, lowering their royal standards immediately thereafter as a gesture of obedience and respect.99 The preponderance of the king’s portrait in Lima’s public rituals declined dramatically, however, with the Bourbon dynasty in the eighteenth century. In the 1701 Proclamation of Philip V, the portrait of the king was no longer publicly displayed in the main plaza. On that occasion, estampas (small images) of the king were printed and distributed to the attend- ing public. By the time of Carlos III’s Proclamation in 1759, the “face and body” of the king had vanished. Instead, the royal banner placed atop brocade pillows took center stage under the canopy.100 In 1795 the acclamation was changed to “Castille and the Indies”; the “Kingdom of Peru” was dropped alto- gether. These shifts of imagery suggest that the more personal “presence” of the Habsburg kings was giving way to a more abstract representation of imperial power under the Bourbons. In eighteenth-century chronicles, the king’s body, face, and eyes all but disappear from the descriptions and the ceremonies. The eighteenth-century ceremonies in Lima quickly changed to closely mirror that of the Bourbon French monarchs.101

96. See, e.g., Ovid’s “The Art of Love,” The Erotic Poems (New York: Penguin, 1982), 166–238. For a discussion of the importance of the face, and particularly the eyes, in revealing one’s proper place in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Paris and London, see Sennett, The Fall of Public Man, 3–44. 97. “Velos Antiguos i modernos,” 78v–79. 98. See Diego de Tovar Valderrama, Instituciones políticas (Alcalá de Henares, 1645); and Ernst H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1957). 99. Gil Pujol, “Una cultura,” 233. 100. “Solemne Proclamacion . . . Felipe V”; and “Lima Gozoza.” 101. Burke, The Fabrication; and Louis Marin, Portrait of the King (Minneapolis: Univ. of Minnesota Press, 1993). 472 HAHR / August / Osorio

Closing Reﬂections

While in Iberia urban subjects could hope to see their king at least once in their lifetime, in colonial America the “living” king was never “produced.” The absence of the original king conditioned American understandings and political relations to the king’s simulacra, rendering his reproduced representation effectively “real.” In short, for his colonial subjects in Lima, the Spanish king’s simulacrum—a copy for which there is no original—was true. Since the referent had never been seen in Lima, the simulacrum was true by virtue of an absence—compounded by the viceroy’s absence during the ritual. The Spanish king was to his subjects an authority ﬁgure not unlike God: He could see, but never be seen in person. Put in another way, the king’s presence could be sensed, but his earthly body could only be imagined. In baroque metaphysics, the distinction between the symbol and the symbolized or the sign and the signiﬁer was diminished, since all things were seen to posses an occult correspondence. The heart, for example, was not merely a metaphor for the king, it could also be the king.102 Bernard Cohn has argued that in seventeenth-century India, “the body of the ruler was literally his authority, the substance of which could be transmitted in what Europeans thought of as objects. Clothes, weapons, jewels and paper were the means by which a ruler could transmit the substance of his authority to a chosen [person].”103 In Peru, the Spanish kings were also known to their subjects primarily through objects such as portraits, emblems, royal insignia, and words on objects such as the cédulas written on papel sellado and prominently signed “Yo E L REY.” These objects and words should be viewed in the American context as baroque simulacra.104 The hyperreality of the king in Habsburg Lima was revealed to his overseas subjects in several ceremonies centered around the royal person. These ceremonies served the dual purpose of (re)presenting the king and binding loyal and loving subjects to him.105 In a word, the ceremonious display of sim-

102. Varela, La muerte del rey, 80. See also Checa Cremades and Morán Turina, El barroco. 103. Bernard Cohn, “The Command of Language and the Language of Command,” Subaltern Studies 4 (1985): 279. A similar argument has been made for the early modern Spanish case by Angeles Pérez Samper in “El Rey Ausente.” 104. On the hyperreal nature of the baroque in the Mexican context, see Serge Gruzinski, La guerra de las imágenes: De Cristóbal Colón a “Blade Runner” (1492–2019) (Mexico: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1994). See also Baudrillard, “The Precession of Simulacra.” 105. For the importance of rituals in the creation of identities and loyalties, see Trexler, Public Life; and David I. Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1988). The King in Lima 473 ulacra constituted a baroque exercise of colonial power, not mere “colonial exaggeration.”106 The simulacra and their display were thought to be essential for inspiring and maintaining “la obediencia a la majestad,” both temporal and divine.107 The Janus face of the Royal Exequies and the king’s Proclamation, of death and life and the continuity of kingship, are perhaps best expressed in that old Castilian proverb which defies English translation, A rey muerto, rey puesto.108 José Antonio Maravall, José Diéz Borque, and others have argued that the celebration of Royal Exequies provided the monarchy with one more occasion to exalt its majesty and power, manipulating from above the emotions of its vassals. Angel Rama argued that as the ceremonial centers of the empire, colonial cities were instrumental in controlling “the prime instruments of social communication, through which [they] directed the public dissemination of social ideologies.” Like Maravall, Rama claimed that the public displays—such as the triumphal arches erected for the arrival of viceroys—of the colonial baroque city constituted “political simulacrum,” as well as “theater of political virtues.” Both themes illustrate the “ideological functioning of colonial intellectuals” and “exemplify the manner in which they sought to conjugate diverse social forces, and typify their constant exaltation of (and quest for patronage from) those, like the charismatic figure of the viceroy, who embodied royal power.”109 Rama stressed the use of art to convey political messages and the importance of ritual and public display in colonial cities. While it is true that official accounts of baroque ceremonies do focus on the idea of ornament and decoration as manifestations of kingly power, and cities used both the ceremonies and their accounts in their rivalries with other cities, the presumption that elites deployed them as mere instruments for the dissemination of elite ideals may underestimate the ceremonies as important political performances in a historically contingent process of cultural formation.110

106. Such ceremonialism in viceregal Lima has frequently been satirized as a kind of colonial charade bordering on the ridiculous. See, for example, Ricardo Palma, Tradiciones peruanas: Obras completas (Madrid: Aguilar, 1964). 107. See Saavedra y Fajardo, Idea de un príncipe político-cristiano, vol. 2, empresa 21, 57, 67. 108. Eleanor O’Kane, Refranes y frases proverbiales españolas de la edad media (Madrid: n.p., 1959). 109. Rama, The Lettered City, 23–24. 110. See Maravall, Culture of the Baroque; Bonet Correa, “La fiesta barroca,” 45–78; José María Díez Borque, “Relaciones del teatro y fiesta en el barroco español,” in Teatro y fiesta en el barroco: España e Iberoamérica, ed. J. M. Díez Borque (España: Ediciones del Serbal, 1986), 11– 40; Mejías Alvarez, “Muerte regia,”189–205; Beezley et al., Rituals of Rule. 474 HAHR / August / Osorio

John Beverly has pointed out that toward the end of the nineteenth century, the baroque was seen by non-Spanish intellectuals as “an essentially reac- tionary cultural style.”111 Baroque-style ceremonies in colonial Latin America have often been interpreted as proof of the decadence and corruption of the colonial state. C. H. Haring’s classic study The Spanish Empire in America, for example, argued that the characteristic feature of Spanish policy in the Ameri- cas from the mid–sixteenth century on was “almost . . . [a] petrifaction of insti- tutional life.” He added that the history of the Spanish state in the Americas during this period became “little more than a collection of more or less picturesque anecdotes; jurisdictional conflicts and questions of etiquette absorbed the life of judges and viceroys.”112 What underlies Haring’s critique of Spanish American political etiquette is the notion that beyond the “irrationality” of the baroque there was to be found a “rational” political order exemplified by en- lightened liberalism absent from colonial Latin America. This study suggests that public etiquette provided more than picturesque anecdotes of a mummi- fied colonial state. The baroque ceremonies of Lima as well as the official chronicles of those ceremonies together constituted the very essence of early modern colonial rule.113 John Beverly has noted that “Maravall’s concept of the absolutist state— which he derives from Weber’s characterization of the modern state bureau- cracy—assumes too great an identity of interest between Crown, nobility, and church, and too great a degree of centralization and functional rationalization of the state apparatus itself.” Beverly proposes instead a more productive view of the representation of the state in baroque culture “as the imaginary—in the Lacanian sense of a projection of desire that systematically misconstrues the real—of absolutism, rather than as a reflection of its actual coherence and authority.”114 Lima’s official ceremonies were indeed imaginary or desired representations of a unified center of power where the imaginary of state was im- bued with the simulacra of the king. The king’s image lent coherence to an often fragmented colonial society; his simulacra and the ceremonies around it were an exercise of power, and not simply representations of it. Moreover, the king’s simulacra was essential in producing the courtly aura of Lima, at that early modern moment when capital cities were becoming the primary referent of this imaginary of state.

111. Beverly, Against Literature, 47. 112. The Spanish Empire in America, 76. 113. Clifford Geertz, Negara: The Theatre State in Seventeenth-Century Bali (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1980), 13. 114. Beverly, Against Literature, 60.