Although very little is known about the models used for Bengali embroideries, in the case of the Gardner Museum example, its primary source has recently been discovered. The central field of the embroidery contains the facade of a building with Mannerist characteristics, including multiple tiers and an elegantly shaped pediment with volutes. This structure is one of the arches erected in Lisbon in 1619 to celebrate the entry of Philip III of Spain, who ruled Portugal as Philip II (r. 1598–1621). It was documented in a print published in 1622, which is the model for the textile.

The king’s visit to Lisbon had been postponed several times. When it finally took place, it was celebrated with the grandeur due a monarch whose rule extended over five continents. João Baptista Lavanha, the Cronista-mayor, or the king’s chief chronicler, followed the royal progress from Madrid to Lisbon. In vivid reports of the ceremonies prepared in each town on the journey, Lavanha interpreted the ephemeral constructions erected in the king’s honor, explaining mythological references and translating Latin inscriptions.

Lavanha’s account was published in Madrid in 1622, in both Portuguese and Castilian editions. The book opens with a large print showing a bird’s-eye view of the Lisbon waterfront on 29 June 1619, when Philip III arrived at the
Terreiro do Paço, the main square of the city (fig. 10). Etchings reproduce thirteen of the twenty triumphal arches along the king’s progress; these were apparently drawn by the Portuguese court painter Domingos Vieira Serrão and then etched by Jan Schorkens, a Flemish printmaker living in Madrid. Of varying size and complexity, the arches were erected by the Inquisition, by various guilds (including merchants, silversmiths, painters, tailors, and lapidaries), and by the English, Flemish, German, and Italians communities in Lisbon.

It is the etching of the eastern facade of the Arch of the Flemish (or Netherlanders) that is the source of the motif of the central field of the embroidery (figs. 1, 2). The Bengali embroiderers accurately transferred the main architectural elements of the arch and generally understood the alien decorative vocabulary, although some elements presented difficulties. In the lower part of the structure, the geometric paneling within the two lateral arches became a weblike decoration; as one would expect, the local artisans were unfamiliar with Renaissance conventions of perspective. The diminutive figure under the main arch in the print, introduced to suggest the sheer height of the Arch of the Flemish – an astonishing thirty-eight meters – is transformed into a peculiar hulking form in the tapestry.

Other elements were simplified or omitted for technical reasons. The Latin inscriptions, for example, would have been too small on the embroidery to be legible. The most striking variation between print and textile is the coat of arms on the pediment of the arch. In each version, the coat of arms is flanked by the allegorical figures of Justice (with a sword) and Fortitude (with a column). But while the print depicts the Spanish royal coat of arms, the embroidery reproduces its Portuguese counterpart. Interestingly, it was in fact the Portuguese arms that surmounted the actual arch and not the Spanish arms of Phillip III. Lavanha explicitly stated that “due to error, the Spanish one was omitted.” The print thus presented a “corrected” version of history; however, this elides the political message of the arch.

The decorative programs of triumphal entries, or joyeuses entrées, were often highly political. The celebratory welcome of a monarch into a city was an occasion for petitions, the airing of grievances, and the granting of privileges. In the 1619 entry, some arches expressed the desire of the city of Lisbon to become the capital of the empire; in others, the Portuguese reminded the king of their old and often-ignored privileges. The Flemish community was clearly making its own statement. With the deliberate “error” of displaying the Portuguese arms, they showed that they unequivocally opposed domination of their nation by the Spanish crown. Beginning in 1568, many of the Netherlandish provinces had rebelled against Spanish rule, principally because much of the Netherlands was Protestant but also because local trade privileges had been suppressed. The revolt led to periods of intense fighting in
the late sixteenth century. The situation of the Netherlanders was in a way comparable to that of the Portuguese, who were also under Habsburg rule.

The unity of the Netherlands, or rather its disunity, is in fact the main theme of the arch. The period around 1619 was of great hope and anxiety, because the Twelve-Year Truce between Spain and the United Provinces of the Netherlands, initiated in 1609, was coming to end. It was feared that costly and destructive wars would begin again. In both the print and embroidery, a blindfolded Cupid riding a lion appears below the royal arms. The Latin inscription visible above Cupid in the etching, sic fortias vincis, which was translated by Lavanha as “the way to win over the strong,” directly alludes to the rebellious provinces of the Netherlands, then struggling for independence. Below Cupid and lion stands a curious half-naked figure between two semicircles. According to Lavanha, this is Discordia; the semicircle at her right contains the arms of the nine Netherlandish provinces which are “firm in obedience,” while on her left are the eight shields of the “rebel” provinces. When the royal progress was thought to be close enough, the two semicircles were pulled together by seventeen men standing on the arch, one for each province. The figure of Discordia would be hidden by the two panels, and the coats of arms of the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands would appear reunited. Lavanha, as the king’s chief chronicler, consistently interpreted the iconography of the arch as supporting Philip III’s rule. However, the intended political message of the arch was undoubtedly more complex and ambivalent.

The iconography of the two panels to the right and left of the central element also reflects the hope for peace. Lavanha asserted that the several lions shown on the arch relate not only to the Netherlandish provinces (for most of their coats of arms included lions) but also to the supremacy of the king. In the next register, the panel on the right shows a lute is being played by a hand emerging from a cloud; an inscription above it (not reproduced in the print), rex sapiens stabilimentum est, et concordia, referred to the prudent king who guarantees the stability and harmony of his vassals. On the other side is a drum surrounded by bees; an inscription on the arch (not reproduced in the print) read multos in annos (for many years), which Lavanha explained as a “wish for a long peace, and that the instruments of war may be converted on those of peace.”

|