In 1596 Martin Crusius recorded in his chronicle an intriguing image he had encountered in a small town in the Duchy of Württemberg, south-west Germany:
This was an epitaph for Catholic Priest Emerich Emhart erected in 1525.2 Although it no longer exists, the object proved resilient in the sixteenth century. It not only survived the Württemberg Reformation in 1534 and its subsequent iconoclasm, but also the dismantling of the old hospital in Brackenheim and the construction of a new building. The Catholic epitaph, however, was not without its incongruities. Crusius continued: ‘Amongst many other evangelical aphorisms [written on the panel] this one can also be read: ‘My Salvation’ is [written] in the wounds of Christ’.3
In the new hospital in Brackenheim stands the Holy Trinity painted onto a panel, upon which the Father and Son place a crown upon the Virgin Mary, and the Holy Ghost, in the form of a dove, appears above her. At the bottom of the painting, on the right-hand side, a priest in a cassock depicts himself with a slip of paper upon his head. On this [paper] stand these words: O Holy Trinity, only God, have mercy upon me!1
It is unclear whether the evangelical aphorisms had been a part of the original funerary image or whether they were added at a later date in order to make the Catholic image of the Virgin Mary and Holy Trinity more palatable in a Lutheran environment. If a pre-Reformation addition, the epitaph could be evidence of a nascent Protestantism within the duchy when under the control of the Habsburgs. As a post-Reformation modification, the epitaph would reveal the tension between the new visual standards of the Reformation world and the continuing desire at a local level to protect the efforts of those past to inscribe themselves posthumously into the community’s visual landscape. Whatever the true story behind Emhart’s epitaph may have been, the object recorded in Crusius’ chronicle highlights the nature of the early modern funeral monument as a malleable entity, which during the Reformation was caught between shifting theological values and the continued inclination to memorialize a community’s dead.
The meanings and physical appearance of the funeral monument, whether a painted or textual epitaph, or a free-standing sculpted object, were not fixed, but changeable according to the monument’s cultural and theological environment. In the late medieval world notions of purgatory, good works and intercession had meant that the dead played an active part in the ritual community of the living. The living prayed for the post-mortem purification of the dead in purgatory, while the dead could act as intercessors on behalf of those still alive. A devotional economy of good works reinforced this theology.4 The construction of a funeral monument became a good work and its continued presence in the church acted as a prompt to the devotional remembrance required to support the perpetual cycles of intercession. By this time the funeral monument did not necessarily identify the location of the body and had already lost much of its liturgical significance.5 Yet it was the advent of Lutheranism that severed the reciprocal practices of intercession and, as Craig Koslofsky has argued, separated the communities of the living and the dead from one another.6
The Reformation entailed a reconfiguration of the function of the funerary monument. Without scriptural foundation, purgatory had no place in the new theological landscape and the funeral monument lost its pre-Reformation devotional significance. Rather than being a reminder of the living’s debt towards the dead, it became a channel for the didactic presentation of a new salvific theology, while continuing to be a means through which to present the secular hierarchies of the living within the space of the church.7 In many cases the Reformation did not significantly change the material appearance of remembrance beyond its iconography. Epitaphs of painted images remained the preferred choice for the civic elites, while the nobility continued to commission sculpted stone memorials. In both cases, though, their numbers greatly increased. The familiar material forms of the funeral monuments reflected a Lutheran practice of adopting elements of late medieval visual and material culture. Lutheran altarpieces assumed the traditional shape of the triptych although foldable wings were now liturgically redundant. The early modern funeral monument, whether a figural sculpture or a painted panel, mirrored the reforming impulses of the age, which were tempered by a desire to couch transformation in a language of continuity and restoration.
The theological transition of the Reformation is often presented as the end point in the story of Lutheran funerary monuments. They are viewed as static, unchanging in their physical forms and message during the period of confessional consolidation. This is in part due to the self-imposed periodization that has often limited detailed studies of Lutheran visual culture to the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries and, in the study of the visual culture of death and remembrance, has prioritized the study of epitaphs and funerary monuments rather than caskets. This chronological framework is, perhaps, a product of the belief that changes to the material and visual expressions of Lutheran ecclesiastical culture were tied to theological change. Therefore, once the Formula of Concord in 1577 established doctrinal unity, there was no further impulse for innovation. Yet Lutheran processes of memorialization continued to evolve apace across the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Explorations of the Lutheran baroque funeral have necessarily focused on the printed funeral sermon. Noble funeral monuments too underwent considerable development in the seventeenth century but have not received the same attention.8 They were not simply an illustration within the funeral publication, but physical objects that reflected patterns of material memorialization. A study of the funerary monuments of the dukes and duchesses of Württemberg demonstrates this. These transformations were not initiated by a theological change. Duke Christoph von Württemberg laid out the form of the Lutheran funeral in Württemberg in 1553. He incorporated it into the Great Church Ordinance of 1559.9 Only minor modifications were made to the text when the ordinance was reissued in 1589, 1602, 1615 and 1657. This theological and institutional continuity belies the material changes that were taking place. The Württemberg funerary monuments first took the familiar form of the free-standing sculpted memorials that depicted the deceased reposing on their backs. The first was commissioned in 1550 in the Tübingen collegiate church (see Plate 1). A little over fifty years later the dukes and duchesses were buried in decorated caskets in a crypt out of sight below the choir of the Stuttgart collegiate church (see Plate 2).
This transition was common to many Lutheran nobles in Germany, but what drove it remains unexplored. It has been explained by the pressures of space within noble burial grounds after the passing of multiple generations.10 However, this new form of funeral monument, just like its predecessors, was the aesthetic consequence of its historical context. It was a material expression of broader devotional patterns and reflected, too, shifting hierarchies of memorialization. Material changes to the monument were a result of developments in the funeral ritual, and the possibilities printed texts increasingly provided for commemoration in the seventeenth century. Object, text and ritual continued to develop in dialogue with one another across the seventeenth century, reinforcing each other and supplementing the perceived deficiencies of the other. Explanations for this material change might also be found in the transforming devotional language on the theme of death in seventeenth-century Lutheranism. No longer were Lutherans compelled to utilize their funeral rituals to establish their confessional authority in the face of a Catholic threat. Rather, the funeral ritual and its subsequent material articulations became a means to express and contain grief in addition to its function as a vehicle for social status. The funeral ritual consistently balanced a desire for dynastic continuity, cross-confessional noble allegiance, and the expression of a devotional identity. What follows here charts the relationship between these strands at the Württemberg court.
THE WÜRTTEMBERG BURIAL GROUND AT TÜBINGEN IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY
Nigel Llewellyn noted that in Renaissance England funeral monuments were more valued as purveyors of dynastic potency at the founding of a dynasty than at the end of it.11 The Counts of Württemberg had traditionally been buried in the Stuttgart collegiate church. Following nineteen years in exile and the reconquest of his duchy in 1534, Duke Ulrich of Württemberg selected the choir in Tübingen’s collegiate church for his family’s burial ground. Ulrich’s choice of Tübingen, rather than Stuttgart, was significant. It made a spatial distinction between the counts and the dukes of Württemberg, a title bestowed upon the noble house in 1485.12 Yet the choice of Tübingen was more than a rejection of Stuttgart. Other collegiate churches, such as that in Urach, could have easily housed the noble burial ground. Urach had been the home of one branch of the Württemberg court between 1442 and 1482. Tübingen, however, had its own advantages. Most importantly, it could reinforce the ducal title. The city had a close connection to Eberhard im Bart (d. 1496), the first Württemberg duke. Eberhard had founded the duchy’s only university here in 1477 and had died in the town’s castle. If Ulrich’s intended emphasis was not clear enough, on Ascension Day in 1537 Ulrich translated the body of Eberhard im Bart from its resting place in the monastery at Einsiedel to Tübingen.13 The duke later stipulated his wish to be buried next to Eberhard.14 Ulrich did not commission monuments either for himself or Eberhard im Bart. Perhaps the duke believed that the proximity of the bodies was sufficient to rehabilitate Ulrich’s reputation after his nineteen years in exile. It was Ulrich’s son Duke Christoph who, in 1550, commissioned monuments for Ulrich and Eberhard from Urach sculptor Joseph Schmid for 120 gulden.15
Christoph’s reign began after the brief reimposition of Habsburg rule during the Augsburg Interim. His actions might also be seen as part of the process of refounding the duchy. The duke indulged in a veritable campaign of memorialization. He commissioned a further six monuments for himself, his wife, son, the parents of Eberhard im Bart, Count Ludwig I von Württemberg-Urach (d. 1450) and Countess Mechthild (d. 1482), a princess from the Kurpfalz and, finally, his sister Anna (d. 1530). We can see in these monuments Duke Christoph’s attempts to enhance the Württemberg family’s prestige after the tumult of the Interim and to strengthen their ducal status. The bodies of Ludwig, Mechthild, and Anna were translated from the monastery at Güterstein.16 The original monuments were recorded in a series of sixteenth-century sketches (see Plates 3, 4 and 5). Mechthild’s monument was incorporated into the burial ground, although the saintly figures around the base were removed (Plate 3). Ludwig and Anna’s monuments were remade although they retained some characteristics of the original sculptures. Ludwig wore armour contemporary to the fifteenth century (Plate 4) and Mechthild wore a medieval wimple. Anna’s original monument depicted her grasping the rosary beads of the old faith (Plate 5), but this religious element was removed from the Tübingen monument. The clear passing of time between these figures visually demonstrated the longevity of the House of Württemberg. In these moments of dynastic uncertainty or, at least, fragility, the Württemberg Dukes preferred a less religiously charged monument. Confessional iconography in the sixteenth-century monuments was limited with the exception of Duke Ludwig’s monument constructed after his death in 1593.17 Other noble houses visually displayed their Lutheran faith more prominently through iconography, as can be seen in the burial ground of the dukes of Ernestine Saxony in Weimar.18 However in Württemberg greater emphasis was placed on their ducal status and longevity of the noble house.
The monuments in Tübingen were not on permanent display (see Plate 1). They were separated from the nave of the church by a metal grille, but churchgoers would have been aware of their presence. They were designed as objects to be seen. It was common for access to noble burial grounds to be controlled rather than forbidden. The bell-ringer of the Freiberg cathedral, the resting place of the Albertine branch of the Wettin dynasty, gave tours of the burial ground for visitors. One bell-ringer, Johann Kröner, recorded these visits along with payments to him. Duke Johann Friedrich von Württemberg (d. 1628) had been one such guest.19 Although no similar source for the Württemberg burial ground survives, there are hints at frequent visits to the Tübingen choir. In 1573 Duke Ludwig commissioned court archivist, Andreas Rüttel, to assess the state of the monuments in the Tübingen burial ground. He reported that many of the monuments had suffered damage due to the repeated removal and re-covering of the monuments with their leather cases when visitors came to see them.20
The visual qualities of the monuments were to impress and demonstrate the status of the family. Duke Ludwig felt that the original monument for his mother, Anna Maria von Brandenburg-Ansbach, was not suitable for a woman of her rank. The grave had been commissioned by Duke Christoph and Duchess Anna Maria in 1560. The monument designed by sculptor Jacob Woller was deemed unsatisfactory. Duke Ludwig wrote that the life-size sculpture of Anna Maria was inadequate as it was without the traditional headwear worn by widows of her status. He ordered sculptor Leonhard Baumhauer to rectify this and in 1570 an alternative was presented.21 The quality of the monument was judged in certain cases by the verisimilitude of the sculptures. Duke Christoph’s commission for his son’s monument in 1568 stipulated that ‘the face of our son be made the same as his image’.22 In Andreas Rüttel’s report on the burial ground in 1573 he noted that the coats of arms were unevenly distributed on the monuments and that the limbs of the figures were badly proportioned. This poor quality was attributed to the fact that the work had been left to the sculptor’s apprentices rather than carried out by the sculptor himself.23
SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY FUNERAL MONUMENTS
Duke Friedrich I, a nephew of Duke Ludwig, died in 1608. His death marked a significant change in the sepulchral habits of the dukes of Württemberg, one that established the model for subsequent rulers. Friedrich was from the Mömpelgard line of the Württemberg family and a departure from Tübingen allowed for him and his descendants to establish his family lineage.24 His son, Johann Friedrich, rejected the impressive church in Freudenstadt, the Renaissance town his father founded, and buried his father in Stuttgart. The return to Stuttgart indicates Friedrich’s desire to distinguish himself from earlier dukes, but not to sever all ties. In addition to the change in location, Johann Friedrich began construction of a crypt underneath the choir of the Stuttgart collegiate church in 1608. Noble caskets were placed in the crypt by moving the pews in the choir and raising a series of flagstones.25 Access to the crypt was through a side door. At the Viennese court, the master of the household guarded the keys that gave access to the Habsburg caskets.26 Who controlled access to the Stuttgart crypt is unclear.
Werner Fleischhauer, one of the earliest historians of the Renaissance in south-west Germany, argued in 1971 that the construction of the crypt and the adoption of the casket was a reflection of a memorial befitting ‘the puritanical style of the Württemberg church’.27 Yet Johann Friedrich followed a growing trend for sepulchral crypts rather than for burial grounds within the church choir.28 In Darmstadt, the monumental epitaph of Countess Magdalena zur Lippe and her husband Landgrave Georg I von Hessen-Darmstadt erected in the town’s church in 1589 was the last such funerary monument before the noble family adopted caskets in a newly built crypt. This sepulchral style was also adopted by the Counts of Mansfeld in the St Annen church in Eisleben in 1588.29 Pfalzgraf Johann I von Pfalz-Zweibrücken built a crypt in the Alexanderskirche in Zweibrucken in 1606, which became the final resting place of members of the Wittelsbach family.30 This trend was not limited to Lutherans. The Bavarian dukes had already adopted this style of funerary monuments. The altar-epitaph of Duke Wilhelm V in the Michaelskirche in Munich from the 1590s was an exception. Traditional sculpted forms were only kept in neighbouring territories by the Margraves of Brandenburg-Kulmbach and the counts of Hohenlohe, Erbach, and Löwenstein.31 Johann Friedrich was following a broader fashion, a fitting tribute to his father — the first Württemberg duke to consider seriously the potential of the visual and material as an instrument of ducal representation and engage with the artistic developments beyond the duchy. The establishment of the ducal Kunstkammer by Duke Friedrich cemented his reputation as a kunstliebhaber, a lover of art.32 The portrait of Duke Friedrich I in his funeral sermon depicts him proudly wearing the insignia of the English Order of the Garter, which was bestowed upon the duke in 1603 following his trip to the court of Elizabeth I, an indication of his international gaze in comparison to previous Württemberg dukes (see Plate 6). Fleischhauer’s characterization of the sepulchral shift as a ‘puritanical’ one was based on a misplaced belief that the Württemberg dukes had little interest in visual tools of propaganda, advocating iconoclasm over the maintenance of ecclesiastical art.33 Although Friedrich’s casket was decorated only with text, by 1628 images appeared on the caskets as Johann Schmid’s manuscript description of the crypt reveals.34 While the crypts themselves may have been, as Inga Brinkmann puts it, no more than a ‘functional building’, over the seventeenth century the design of the caskets within them came to be carefully considered and highly decorative.35
In the case of this sepulchral shift from sculpted funerary monument to decorated casket it is necessary to move beyond the personalities of the individual Württemberg dukes and to consider broader changes in Lutheran memorialization habits. Death and dying was not solely captured in a physical monument, but was expressed through the funeral ritual itself and the subsequent funerary publications.36 The three commemorative elements interacted, responding to changes in the other. As seventeenth-century monuments changed, so did seventeenth-century funerals and vice versa. Increasingly elaborate funeral rituals required a change in commemorative practice. Martin Crusius reported that Duke Ulrich’s funeral in 1550 took place the day after his death in the Tübingen Stiftskirche in front of an audience largely comprised of members of the university.37 Ulrich’s son and heir, Christoph, only managed to arrive in Tübingen the evening before the event.38 The funeral of Duchess Sabina, the estranged wife of Ulrich, in 1564 followed a similar format. She died on 30 August and was buried two days later.39 On both occasions there was no opportunity for an elaborate funeral ritual; nor was this important. A speedy burial and the subsequent erection of the physical memorial in the Tübingen collegiate church were the lasting monuments to the duke and his wife, rather than the funeral ritual and the dynastic and political ties this created.
Duke Friedrich I, however, broke this pattern: the elaborate funeral following his death in 1608 heralded an age where funerals were marked by extensive ceremony. The event was held two months after his death and was a carefully orchestrated event, designed to bring together the members of the newly founded Protestant Union.40 The funeral was also intended to gather the inhabitants of Stuttgart in order to witness the passing of one duke and the succession of another. The baroque funeral helped construct the posthumous public identity of the duke as well as the transitioning ducal power from one duke to the next. On the day of Friedrich’s funeral the city gates were shut, residents ordered to line the streets wearing black to greet the procession of the body.41 These changes were reflected in the growing importance of the early modern funeral sermon as a central component of the Lutheran funeral ritual from around the mid sixteenth century. Martin Crusius reported that an oration was given at Ulrich’s funeral in 1550, but there is no evidence that its text appeared immediately in print. The funeral sermons of Dukes Christoph and Ludwig were simple in their design. Christoph’s contained the three sermons that had been preached as his body set off from Stuttgart, rested overnight in Bebenhausen, and was finally buried in Tübingen. Ludwig’s followed a similar pattern. The confessional aspects of these publications focused predominantly on polemic against the Catholic opponent. The elaborateness of the noble funeral was just one aspect of the development of more sophisticated ceremonial activities at the Württemberg court, activities designed to produce clear political messages, to which the seventeenth-century festival books from Johann Oettinger are testament.42
The layout and design of the printed funeral sermon went under a number of transformations in the seventeenth century, and not just in Württemberg.43 These alterations demonstrate the way in which funeral publications became a medium for ducal identity. Friedrich I’s sermon appeared with a portrait of the duke, a printed list of all the guests at the funeral and an image indicating their position within the funeral procession.44 These images became the standard elements of such texts. By the mid seventeenth century, ducal publications were accompanied by elaborate title pages, containing not just the images of rulers but, most importantly for our story, of their coffins. Funeral sermons also included emblems and images of castra doloris, which provided a visual commentary on the duke’s rule and death. Magdalena Sibylla von Hessen-Darmstadt, duchess and regent of the Duchy of Württemberg, died in 1712. Her funeral book appeared the following year. It contained eight sermons from the most prominent theologians in the duchy, as well as a detailed biography, a panegyric, engravings of her coffin, castrum doloris and a series of emblems with an accompanying elucidatory text.45 At over five hundred pages long, the publication stands as one of the longest and most comprehensive funeral books of the House of Württemberg and demonstrates the extent to which the genre had developed over the seventeenth century. Not only did this funeral book represent the zenith of the Württemberg sermon, but it was amongst the most widely circulated funerary work. One thousand copies of Duchess Magdalena Sibylla’s funeral book were ordered.46 Nine hundred copies were printed of her co-regent Duke Friedrich Carl’s funeral sermon following his death in 1698, copies of which were sent to eighteen noble houses across Germany.47 It would be reasonable to assume that the same network of distribution existed for Duchess Magdalena Sibylla.
The growth of printed media both challenged and complemented the traditional physical monument. The seventeenth-century monument, now out of sight in a crypt, was disseminated through its image in the funeral sermon. This change may well have been a product of a broader debate about the relative merits of print and object to preserve the memory of the deceased. Lutheran reformers had enumerated the relative advantages and disadvantages of print and image as vehicles for popular dissemination of theological understanding in the early years of evangelical reform.48 Their debates stemmed from concerns about the compatibility of the divine and material worlds. The physical attributes of both media were less frequently discussed. However, in discussions of Lutheran memorial practices in the early seventeenth century the material aspects of print and image came once more into tension with one another.49 A hierarchy between the two began to emerge. Early modern commentators drove the debate along two lines. First, there was the question of material durability and manipulation — which material, paper or stone, would best ensure the longevity of an individual’s memory and could best circumvent alteration? The second strand of debate focused on the issue of scope. Which medium might best reach the widest audience? In both cases it was the paper monument that triumphed. The debate appeared in both published collections of inscriptions, an increasingly common genre in the seventeenth century, and funeral sermons. Of course both sources sought to emphasize the importance of print for the preservation of memory.
In 1627 Jacob Baumhauwer published his collection of inscriptions from funerary monuments in the Tübingen collegiate church. In his introduction he extolled the role of print to establish a posthumous legacy when compared with the material qualities of the monument. He wrote:
The funerary monument could not be relied upon to communicate its intended message for future generations. Baumhauwer juxtaposed the ‘ephemeral materials’ of stone, wood and marble with the ‘enduring paper’ upon which he wrote.51 A similar theme appeared in funeral sermons outside the Duchy of Württemberg. In his 1677 funeral sermon for George Sebisch, pastor of the Saxon church in Ruppersdorf, Johann Anton Tralles contrasted his written memorial for the cleric with the physical memorials of past civilizations. He dismissed the Maccabean tomb for the Jewish cleric, Mattathias ben Johanan, commissioned by his son, Simon, and Cheops’ pyramid, that required the labour of 360,000 men and twenty years to build, in favour of a ‘decorative and written monument and memorial’.52
Since daily experience demonstrates more clearly and lucidly that everything in this world is mortal and ephemeral: yes even the things themselves with which our dear ancestors, who rest with God, hoped would allow the memory of their names [to remain] after them: (such as the epitaphs, monuments, trophies, statues, triumphal arcs) equally they are conquered by death and oblivion.50
These Lutherans were quite clear that the material realities of the monument hindered its ability to communicate posthumous identities for future generations. The funeral sermon of Johann Ernst Stüber, city council member in the Free Imperial City of Esslingen who died in 1681, enumerated the disadvantages of the physical funerary monument. The pastor worried that the textual epitaph that frequently accompanied a funerary sculpture might be separated from the latter:
Implicit in the sermon given here was the belief that the sculpted Lutheran funerary monument could only be understood with the accompanying text provided in the epitaph. Text was required to reinforce the message of the physical monument and this relationship was threatened by adaptations to spaces over time. This was not unlike early Lutheran visual culture that sought to control the meaning of the image for the viewer through textual explication.
The remembrance plaques, or epitaphs, decorate the churches, hung next to their sculpted tombstones … unremembered, in time they moved away from each other, and an ancient epitaph or stone must be transferred to a new place. It is a … somewhat woeful thing to preserve the memory of the deserving.53
The message of the funeral monument appeared more vulnerable due to its mobility; the funeral sermon for Duke Christian of Saxony, published in 1663, esteemed the literary monument more highly than the physical monument, as thieves could not ransack the text as opposed to the physical site of the object. At the same time it maintained that the physical monument’s existence in the princely crypt made it ‘useless’ as it could not be seen.54 It was not just the texts that emphasized the inadequacies of the physical monument. Their deficiencies were embedded in the material realities of the objects themselves. By the end of the sixteenth century the monuments in the Tübingen burial ground were already revealing their material impermanence. Duke Ludwig’s commissioned report on the Tübingen monuments carried out by Rüttel demonstrated the material frailties of the objects.55 Joseph Furttenbach, the Lutheran architect, was conscious of the ephemeral qualities of funeral monuments. In his tract on civil architecture he made recommendations for the protection of funeral monuments in the churchyard, as otherwise ‘in few years they are destroyed by snow, rain, sun and wind’.56 The seventeenth-century casket may be seen within the context of these material criticisms and concerns. The monument combined text, monument and the physical body within one object so that each element could not be separated from one another over time. The crypt also protected the monument from the physical elements.
The second strand of tension that existed between monument and print was the issue of the audience for the monument and its scope. The author of Stüber’s funeral sermon questioned the utility of the physical monument as it was unable to reach a wide audience. He observed that epitaphs ‘are only for those who live in that place and those from outside … that they do not think on their dead [relatives] assiduously’.57 Martin Geier, court chaplain at Dresden from 1665 to 1680, published his funeral sermon for Johann Georg von Ponickau in 1670 underlining this limitation: ‘Furthermore a sizeable epitaph remains immovable in its place, whereas a sermon like this travels far through the world and through many provinces’.58 The memory of the deceased as communicated by the monument was confined within the local community or those who might visit the church. Print offered the advantage of the portability of memory. The author of Stüber’s funeral sermon and Martin Geier’s criticism were not new. They adopted a common classical motif of praising the literary form over the material in the process of memorialization.59 The Albertine dukes of Saxony appear to have had a similar concern about the audience for their static monuments. In 1604 Michael Hempel, rector of Freiberg cathedral, described in print the burial ground of the Albertine line of the Dukes of Saxony in the choir of his church.60 It was among the first printed descriptions of a burial ground. The text was to act as a souvenir for visitors to the site, but also as a guide for those unfamiliar with the space. Its publication in Latin suggests an elite international audience for the work. Demand for Hempel’s work appears to have been high as three additional editions were published by 1617.61
The popularity of Hempel’s publication may well have heralded similar projects elsewhere in Germany that sought to widen the audience for funerary monuments through print. Cataloguing and recording the funeral monuments and burial grounds in Stuttgart and Tübingen was a common feature of Lutheran commemorative culture in the Duchy of Württemberg. The earliest printed records of the burial grounds of the ruling house appeared in Martin Crusius’ chronicle.62 Manuscript records survive too: Johann Jakob Gabelkover, court registrar in Stuttgart from 1620, composed a chronicle of Stuttgart in 1624, where he listed in detail the epitaphs and monuments in the collegiate church in Stuttgart, as well as the city’s second church St Leonhard’s.63 Johann Schmid, pastor at St Leonhard’s, produced a record of all the monuments in the two main Stuttgart churches in 1640.64 The tradition continued through the early modern period. At the end of the eighteenth century Johann Friedrich Merckel recorded the Stuttgart, Tübingen and Ludwigsburg burial grounds.65 The compilation of these texts may have been driven by antiquarian or parochial considerations, but they could be put to further use. For instance, in 1692 Duchess Magdalena Sibylla commissioned court registrar Martin Burckhardt to collect all the inscriptions on existing caskets in the Stuttgart crypt. This was in preparation for the designing of her own casket before her death in 1712.66
Despite these publications that prioritized the textual elements of the funerary monument, they could not eclipse the material forms of the object in Lutheran modes of memorialization in the seventeenth century. If these objects became inconsequential due to their material flaws and the flourishing of the funeral sermon, why in the Württemberg case did the caskets become highly decorated? The fact that the body of the deceased duke was within the casket meant that the object itself could never truly be inconsequential, despite the emergence of the paper monument in the form of the funeral sermon. The physical presence of the body within ecclesiastical space had its own significant resonances. It established authority over church space. The Jesuits briefly assumed responsibility for the collegiate chapel in Stuttgart in 1637. One of their first acts was to exhume the body of Lutheran preacher Johannes Brenz (d. 1570) buried underneath the pulpit, replacing Brenz’s body with that of a Jesuit.67 Rather than simply removing the epitaph indicating Brenz’s presence, they felt the need to reassert ownership of the space by burying one of their own in his place. Similarly, following his body’s translation, Eberhard im Bart was buried in the location where the medieval high altar had once stood. This act reclaimed and reshaped now-redundant spatial and sacred hierarchies observed by the previous Catholic occupants of the church.68 Duke Christoph wished for his sister, Anna, to be buried at the feet of her father, thus in death replicating the hierarchy that had existed when alive.69
The body, and the casket, had an important function in the funeral too. In the latter half of the sixteenth century the cathedral preacher in Magdeburg, Philip Hahn, saw a sustaining relationship between the funeral sermon preached from the pulpit and the body within the sight of both preacher and congregation.
Print brought such ideas to a wider audience, but the power of the physical presence of the coffin was crucial within the performance of the funeral ritual. In the case of Sophie Charlotte of Hanover’s funeral in 1705, her wooden coffin was lowered into the metal casket during the funeral, the climax in a ceremony that transitioned the noble body from being a person to becoming a memorial.71 As the funeral ritual and the accompanying sermon developed, becoming more elaborate, more considered, it is easy to think that the physical monument became less visible, locked up in a crypt. Yet, as Hahn’s statement demonstrates, the monument’s presence was still vital. The lengthier time between death and funeral meant that the ducal body lay within its casket for a longer period of time. In this context, it is no wonder that the design of the coffin and its iconography also became an instrument of ducal representation.
When one preaches a funeral sermon while the body of the deceased is present underneath the pulpit, it affects the listeners more and reaches their hearts because now they can see with their eyes what they otherwise would only hear with their ears. It is as if the deceased speaks and says: “Hodie mihi, cras tibi, just as I have died, you will die too.”70
A closer inspection of the Württemberg caskets reveals the heightened devotional messages communicated by the funerary monument in the later seventeenth century. The funeral book of Eberhard III from 1674 was one of the first Württemberg publications that brought together all design elements — portrait and images of his deathbed, castrum doloris, and coffin with transcriptions of its textual engravings. The casket combined the function of burial place, textual epitaph and funeral monument. A manuscript survives in Stuttgart outlining the function of the object. The casket was to show Eberhard as ‘as a territorial, imperial and heavenly prince’ (see Plate 2).72 The monument still retained the dynastic representative functions of its predecessors. His position as ruler of Württemberg was highlighted by the emblem at the end of the casket: here the regalia of secular rule was depicted against the clearly recognizable backdrop of Stuttgart. The coats of arms around the object visualized Württemberg’s position within the network of the rulers of the Protestant Union.73 This element of the casket was no different from the preoccupations of the early Württemberg dukes and their sculpted monuments. Eberhard’s public and private piety was central to the object, displaying thirteen biblical quotations all on the theme of salvation. The prominent religious decoration was a significant departure from that of the early Reformation dukes. Construction of a public religious identity, beyond the formulaic expressions of commitment to Lutheranism, re-emerged as an important component of their lasting remembrance. Eberhard III’s casket became the model for the later seventeenth-century dukes.
Seventeenth-century caskets in Württemberg frequently formed a commentary on loss. In baroque Lutheran commemorative culture, grief and its visible demonstration became a part of the funeral ritual. Ehrenreich Weismann, Württemberg preacher in the 1680s, argued that the Bible revealed ‘that it is allowed to weep bitterly and to be sincerely saddened’.74 Publicly displayed grief testified to the love of the deceased. Weismann drew upon biblical precedents for the demonstrative expression of grief: Abraham had visibly revealed his grief at the burial of his wife Sarah (Genesis 23:2), and the Israelites had mourned for Moses’ brother Aaron for thirty days (Numbers 20:29).75 The ‘natural emotions and desires’ of man had been placed in them by God.76 Yet excessive grieving had its dangers in the early modern world. It undermined one’s faith in Christ’s sacrifice that ensured salvation. It revealed a misunderstanding of the reward that a good death brought. Duke Eberhard III’s funeral sermon argued that ‘screaming and crying becomes a sign of a weak will’.77 These words of Weismann and the author of Eberhard’s funeral sermon echoed a growing Pietist trend in the duchy, characterized by German writers such as Johann Arndt, Martin Moller and Paul Gerhardt. It promoted the cultivation of a personal and inner piety that reflected itself in the outside world through Christian behaviour. Thus grief, and its regulation, could be read as outward signs of an inner Christian devotion.78
While Weismann was speaking particularly to Duchess Magdalena Sibylla von Hessen-Darmstadt, his patron, we can see that his words were already embodied in Duke Eberhard III’s casket (see Plate 2). The object reflected a balance between the silent acceptance of death and the public expression of grief as part of its commentary on loss. The top-side of the casket spoke in pained terms of the loss of the Duke:
The coats of arms that bordered the casket affirmed this greatness. The sequence of arms along the casket made visible Württemberg’s political networks. The loss of the duke was tempered by the multiple biblical inscriptions that appeared on the lower sides of the casket that referred to Christ’s sacrifice for mankind. They acted as a counterbalance to the pain of loss with the promise of salvation. The viewer was reminded that ‘Blessed are the dead — those who die in the Lord from this moment on’ (Revelation 14:13) and that ‘the redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth’ (Job 19:25). Eberhard’s casket design was mirrored elsewhere. The poem inscribed on the casket of Joachim Ernst, Eberhard’s son who had died in 1663, spoke of the pain felt by parents losing a child, but also commanded them to stop their tears.80 The casket of Magdalena Sibylla, Württemberg regent at the end of the seventeenth century, followed a similar pattern (see Plate 7). Not unusually for a noble woman, her monument emphasized in particular her exemplary devotion.81 She appeared on the casket embracing Christ on the cross taking the position of Mary Magdalene. Images of ducal caskets frequently appeared at the beginning of funeral works often with explanatory texts. These objects thus framed the themes of the funeral sermons that followed them. They could provide the lens through which the funeral sermons were to be read.
He who was so highly esteemed in the Christian world, the light of the high house, the assurance of the land […] Oh Württemberg / Look up and realise / what greatness you have lost in him / who was to you a benefit / and a true protector.79
The Lutheran funeral monument changed in response to theological developments in the early years of the Reformation. Once Lutheran doctrine was fixed and theology institutionalized, monuments continued to change. They responded to the dynastic and personal needs of individual dukes, as well as developments within the funeral ritual and other commemorative media. Criticisms of the sixteenth-century monument’s material ephemerality may also have instituted change. The casket combined the function of burial place, textual epitaph and funeral monument, thus allaying contemporary fears that monument, epitaph and body might become separated over time. Print, in particular, made up for the perceived deficiencies of the physical monument by bringing its image to a wider audience and fixing its meaning for future generations. It is significant that unlike collections of inscriptions, funeral works communicated the image of the object in addition to its textual content.
As the funeral became more elaborate the funeral casket’s material significance figured at the beginning of the funerary process, when the noble body was laid out in its castrum doloris, as well as during the funeral itself. Following the funeral, once the casket was stowed away in the Stuttgart crypt, the material significance of the object was memorialized through its literary existence in the funeral sermon. Yet although it was physically removed from sight, the monument continued to evolve in relation to devotional trends at the Württemberg court. It became a vehicle for the expression of grief tempered by theological understanding of Christ’s sacrifice. At all times, the funeral monument operated both on the level of edification for the inhabitants of Württemberg and a way to represent ducal identity to a wider audience across Germany.
Just like the epitaph for Catholic priest Emerich Emhart that began this discussion, the Württemberg funeral monuments discussed above shed important light on Lutheran cultures of remembrance across the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They demonstrate the malleability of the visual and material culture associated with death, changing according to evolving responses to death and dying, and the appropriate accompanying behaviour. Above all, the continued presence of funerary monuments, indeed their proliferation both in physical form and in print, reflected a culture of memory in which the dead were at the centre. Our understanding of the Reformation as the moment when communities of the living and the dead were separated from one another rings true only on a theological level. The human impulse towards the material memorialization of the dead was a stronger force than the Reformation could hope to quell and thus the dead remained a significant part of the early modern material landscape.
1 Martin Crusius, Martin Crusii, weyland hochberühmten Professoris der griechisch- und lateinischen Sprache, so dann der Wohlredenheit bey der Universität zu Tübingen Schwäbische Chronick worinnen zu finden ist was sich von Erschaffung der Welt an biss auf das Jahr 1596 in Schwaben … Aus dem lateinischen erstmals übersetzt und mit einer Continuation vom Jahr 1596 biss 1733 auch einem vollständigen Register versehen nebst einer Vorrede dem Leben des Autoris und einer Alphabetischen Nachricht von mehr dann tausenden gedruckt= und ungedruckten Schrifften/so Schwaben ganz oder zum Theil betreffen/ und ausgefertiget von Johann Jacob Moser, trans. Jakob Moser, 2 vols. (Frankfurt, 1733), ii, 215.
2 The term ‘epitaph’ originally was used for a monument that indicated the location of the body, but by the sixteenth century it had lost this meaning. See Renate Kohn, ‘Zwischen standesgemäßem Repräsentationsbedürfnis und Sorge um das Seelenheil. Die Entwicklung des frühneuzeitlichen Grabdenkmals’, in Mark Hengerer (ed.), Macht und Memoria: Begräbniskultur europäischer Oberschichten in der Frühen Neuzeit (Cologne, 2005), 25.
3 Crusius, Martin Crusii … Schwäbische Chronick, ii, 215.
4 For work on medieval cultures of death see Dieter Geuenich and Otto Gerhard Oexle (eds.), Memoria in der Gesellschaft des Mittelalters (Göttingen, 1994); Bruce Gordon and Peter Marshall (eds.), The Place of the Dead: Death and Remembrance in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 2000); Joelle Rollo-Koster (ed.), Death in Medieval Europe: Death Scripted and Death Choreographed (Abingdon, 2017).
5 Dietrich Erben, ‘Requiem und Rezeption: Zur Gattungsbestimmung und Wahrnehmung von Grabmälern in der Frühen Neuzeit’, in Arne Karsten and Philipp Zitzlsperger (eds.), Tod und Verklärung: Grabmalskultur in der Frühen Neuzeit (Cologne, 2004), 118.
6 Craig Koslofsky, The Reformation of the Dead: Death and Ritual in Early Modern Germany, 1450–1700 (Basingstoke, 2000), esp. the introduction.
7 For literature on funeral monuments in Lutheran Germany see Jan Harasimowicz, Kunst als Glaubensbekenntnis: Beiträge zur Kunst- und Kulturgeschichte der Reformationszeit (Baden-Baden, 1996), 97–126; Carl C. Christensen, ‘The Significance of the Epitaph Monument in Early Lutheran Ecclesiastical Art (c.1540–1600)’, in Lawrence P. Buck and Jonathan Zophy (eds.), The Social History of the Reformation (Columbus, Ohio, 1972); Inga Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels: adelige Funeralrepräsentation im Spannungsfeld von Kontinuität und Wandel im 16. und beginnenden 17. Jahrhundert (Berlin and Munich, 2010); Oliver Meys, Memoria und Bekenntnis: Die Grabdenkmäler Evangelischer Landesherren im Heiligen Römischen Reich Deutscher Nation im Zeitalter der Konfessionalisierung (Regensburg, 2009).
8 Most recent works on noble sepulchral habits have generally ended their studies in the mid sixteenth century and focused on stone monuments rather than caskets: Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels; Meys, Memoria und Bekenntnis. One notable exception is Gregory Johnston, ‘Textual Symmetries and the Origins of Heinrich Schütz’s Musikalische Exequien’, Early Music, ix (1991), 213–24. My thanks to Anna Linton for making me aware of this work.
9Die evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des XVI. Jahrhunderts, ed. Emil Sehling, Sabine Arend, Anneliese Sprengler-Ruppenthal and Thomas Bergholz, 24 vols. (Tübingen, 2004), xvi, 274–5.
10 Stefanie Knöll, ‘The Ducal Burial Place at Tübingen, Germany, 1537–93’, Church Monuments, xx (2005), 98; Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 328.
11 Nigel Llewellyn, ‘The Royal Body: Monument to the Dead, For the Living’, in L. Gent and N. Llewellyn (eds.), Renaissance Bodies: The Human Figure in English Culture c.1540–1660 (London, 1990), 225.
12 For accounts of the Tübingen burial ground see Harald Schukraft, Die Grablegen des Hauses Württemberg (Stuttgart, 1984), 35–72; Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 155–78; Meys, Memoria und Bekenntnis, 748–70; Andrea Baresel-Brand, Grabdenkmäler nordeuropäischer Fürstenhäuser im Zeitalter der Renaissance 1550–1650 (Kiel, 2007), 257–64.
13 Crusius, Martin Crusii … Schwäbische Chronick, ii, 243.
14Ibid., ii, 243, 277.
15 Hauptstaatsarchiv Stuttgart (hereafter HStAS) G41 Bü 11, ‘Vertrag mit Meister Joseph Schmied’ (1550).
16 Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 162.
17 Knöll, ‘The Ducal Burial Place at Tübingen, Germany’, 98–100.
18 Brinkman, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen, 130–44.
20 August von Wintterlin ‘Die Grabdenkmale Herzog Christophs, seines Sohnes Eberhard und seiner Gemahlin Anna Maria in der Stiftskirche Tübingen’, in Hermann Fischer, W. Heyd, August von Wintterlin and Theodor Schott (eds.), Festschrift zur vierten Säcular-Feier der Eberhard-Karls-Universität zu Tübingen dargebracht von der königlichen Bibliothek zu Stuttgart (Stuttgart, 1877), 46–8.
24 For more on Friedrich I see Paul Sauer, Herzog Friedrich I. von Württemberg 1557–1608: ungestümer Reformer und weltgewandter Autokrat (Munich, 2003).
25 For more on the crypt see Württembergisches Landesbibliothek (hereafter WLB), Cod. Hist. 80 18. Johann Schmid, ‘Inscriptiones Monumentorum, cuae sunt Stutgardiae in Conditorio Illustrissimorum Württembergiae Prinicipum in Temple S. Crucis vel Cathedrali; S. Catharinaw, vel penodoctiali: S. Leonhardi; et Nosocomiali in Cameterÿs intra et extra urbem. Collectur et conscripta per M. Johannem Schmid marppachensen, t. Stutgardia und d. Leonhardum partorum Anno M.DC. XXXX’, 44; Schukraft, Die Grablegen des Hauses Württemberg, 73–94; Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 173–8.
26 Magdalena Hawlik-Van de Water, Der schöne Tod: Zeremonialstrukturen des Wiener Hofes bei Tod und Begräbnis zwischen 1640 und 1740 (Vienna, 1989), 77–8.
27 Werner Fleischhauer, Renaissance im Herzogtum Württemberg (Stuttgart, 1971), 340.
29 Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 328.
30 Ludwig Molitor, Die Fürstengruft der Wittelsbacher in der Alexanderskirche zu Zweibrücken (Zweibrücken, 1888).
31 Fleischauer, Renaissance im Herzogtum Württemberg, 340–1.
32 Werner Fleischhauer, Die Geschichte der Kunstkammer der Herzöge von Württemberg in Stuttgart (Stuttgart, 1976).
33 This thesis is disputed in Reinhard Lieske, Protestantische Frömmigkeit im Spiegel der kirchlichen Kunst des Herzogtums Württemberg (Munich, 1973); Róisín Watson, ‘Lutheran Piety and Visual Culture in the Duchy of Württemberg, 1534–c.1700’ (Univ. of St Andrews Ph.D dissertation, 2015).
34 WLB, Cod. Hist. 80 18, Johann Schmid, ‘Inscriptiones Monumentorum’, 47–66.
35 Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 328.
36 Extensive work on funeral sermons can be found in Rudolf Lenz (ed.), Leichenpredigten als Quelle historischer Wissenschaften, 4 vols. (Cologne and Vienna, 1975; Marburg, 1975, 1983; Stuttgart, 2004).
37 Crusius, Martin Crusii … Schwäbische Chronick, ii, 277.
39 HStAS J381 no. 281, ‘Gedächtnis, Absterben und Begräbnis der Herzogin Sabina’.
40 Jill Bepler, ‘Another Protestant Point of View: The Funeral Book for Ludwig V of Hesse-Darmstadt (1627)’, in J. F. Mulryne, H. Watanabe-O’Kelly and M. Schewring (eds.), Europa Triumphans: Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols. (Farnham, 2004), ii, 46.
41 Archival material relating to Duke Friedrich’s death and funeral: HStAS G59 Bü 7, ‘Begräbnis Herzog Friedrichs’ (1608); G59 Bü 8, ‘Begräbnis Herzog Friedrichs’ (1608).
42 For more on the Württemberg Court see C. Wagenknecht, Stuttgarter Hoffeste: Texte und Materielen zur hofischen Repräsentation im frühen siebzehnten Jahrhundert (Tübingen, 1979).
43 These changes are discussed in Jill Bepler, ‘Das papierne Monument: Bilder und Texte in der höfischen Funeralpublizistik der Frühen Neuzeit’, in Stefanie Knöll (ed.), Lebenslust und Todesfurcht: Druckgraphik aus der Zeit des Barock (Düsseldorf, 2012), 190–210; Ingrid Höpel, ‘Bildliche Darstellungen in Leichenpredigten: Probleme und Praxis einer computergestützten Auswertung und ihre Relevanz für kunsthistorische Forschung’, in Rudolf Lenz (ed.), Studien zur deutschsprachigen Leichenpredigt der frühen Neuzeit (Marburg, 1981), 132–84 and 249–70.
44 Johannes Magirus et al., Sechs Christliche Predigten: Vber der Leich, Weilund deß … Herrn Friderichs, Hertzogen zu Württemberg vnd Teckh, Graven zu Mümpelgart (Tübingen, 1608).
45 Johann U. Kraus et al., Christ-Fürstliches Ehren-Gedächtniß, der Weiland durchlauchtigsten Fürstin und Frauen, Frauen Magdalena Sibylla, Hertzogin zu Würtemberg und Teck, Gräffin zu Mömpelgart, Frauen zu Heydenheim, Wittwen: Gebohrener Land-Gräffin zu Hessen, Fürstin zu Hersfeld, Gräfin zu Catzenelenbogen, Dietz, Ziegenheim, Niddy, Schauenburg, Ofenburg und Büdingen, Höchst-Seeligsten Andenckens; zu höchst-schuldigstem Nach-Ruhm auffgerichtet (Stuttgart, 1712).
46 HStAS A282 Bü 1616, ‘Druckkosten von Leichenpredigten für Angehörige des herzoglichen Hauses und Austeilung der Exemplare (1686–1734)’, unfoliated.
48 Sergiusz Michalski, The Reformation and the Visual Arts: The Protestant Image Question in Western and Eastern Europe (London and New York, 1993).
49 Discussed in Martin Kazmaier, ‘Denkmaale von Papier erbauet’, in Rudolf Lenz (ed.), Leichenpredigten als Quelle Historischer Wissenschaften, 4 vols. (Cologne, 1975), i, 390–407; Anna Linton, Poetry and Parental Bereavement in Early Modern Lutheran Germany (Oxford, 2008), 73–7.
50 Johann F. Baumhauwer, Inscriptiones monumentorum, quae sunt Tubingae in conditorio illustrissimorum Wurtembergicae principum: in templo divi Georgii et divi Jacobi, in coemeterio intra ex extra urbem = Das ist: Alle Grabstein unnd Schrifften, so zu Tübingen … gefunden werden (Tübingen, 1627), 1.
52 Johann-Antonius Tralles, Grab- und Gedenck-Mal welches Bey den angestellten Christ-Priesterlichen Begräbnis des Ehrwürdigen/ Vorachtbaren Wolgelehrten/ Herren George Sebische (Brieg, 1667), 13–14.
53 Quoted in Kazmaier, ‘Denkmaale von Papier erbauet’, 393–4.
54Memoriale Schwartzburgicum, Das ist: Schwarzburgisches Denckmahl: In sich haltend Welchergestalt Der … Herr Johann Günther/ der Vier Grafen des Reichs/ Graf zu Schwartzburgk und Honstein/ Herr zu Arnstadt/ Sondershausen/ Leutenbergk/ Lohra und Clettenbergk: Ob S. Gn. schon im Sechzehenden Jahre Ihres Gräflichen Alters … in der Fürstl. Ritter-Schule zu Thübingen verblichen; Dennoch Im Leben und Tode sich als ein rechtes Memorial, Exempel und Beyspiel der Nachfolge erwiesen: Vermittelst Einigen gehaltenen Orationen, Leich-Reden/ Leich-Predigten und andern Vorgestellet und der Nachwelt hinterlassen/ Uff Befehl Der Hochgräfl. Succedirenden Lehnsfolger (Arnstadt, 1671), unpaginated.
55 Wintterlin, ‘Die Grabdenkmale Herzog Christophs’, 46–8.
56 Joseph Furttenbach, Architectura Civilis: Das ist: Eigentlich Beschreibung wie ma[n] nach bester Form/ und gerechter Regul/ Fürs Erste: Palläst/ mit dero Lust: und Thiergarten (Ulm, 1628), 75.
57 Quoted in Kazmaier, ‘Denkmaale von Papier erbauet’, 394.
58 Quoted in Gerd-Ründinger Koretzki, ‘Leichenpredigten und ihre Druckstellung: Ein Beitrag zur Untersuchung der materiellen Voraussetzungen einer gesellschaftlichen Modeerscheinung’, in Lenz (ed.), Leichenpredigten als Quelle Historischer Wissenschaften, ii, 333–59.
59 Linton, Poetry and Parental Bereavement, 75.
60 Michael Hempel, Luculenta Descriptio, Summa arte extructi Sacelli, in quo illustrissimorum trium Electorum, & reliquorum Principum, ac Ducum Saxoniae &c. monumenta XXI. continentur, Fribergi in Misnia, in templo collegiato, cui a Beata Virgine nomen est (Leipzig, 1604).
61 Brinkmann, Grabdenkmäler, Grablegen und Begräbniswesen des lutherischen Adels, 356–8.
62 Martin Crusius, Annales Svevici siue Chronica Rervm Gestarvm Antiqvissimae Et Inclytae Svevicae Gentis, 3 vols. (n.p., 1596), iii, 342–6.
63 HStAS Stuttgart J1 no. 9, Johann Jakob Gabelkover, ‘Cronica der fürstlichen Württembergischen Haubtstatt Stuetgardten’, (1624).
64 WLB, Cod. Hist. 80 18. Johann Schmid, ‘Inscriptiones Monumentorum’.
65 Johann F. Merckel, Beschreibung der Fürstlichen Denkmale und Grabinschriften in der Stiftskirche und der darinn befindlichen Gruft zu Stuttgardt, wie auch derer zu Tübingen und Ludwigsburg (Stuttgart, 1798).
66 Schukraft, Die Grablegen des Hauses Württemberg, 88.
67 Christoph Kolb, ‘Die Jesuiten in der Stuttgarter Stiftskirche’, Blätter für württembergische Kirchengeschichte, ii (1898), 38–44; Schmid, ‘Inscriptiones Monumentorum’, 112–13.
68 Schukraft, Die Grablegen des Hauses Württemberg, 35.
70 Quoted in Cornelia N. Moore, Patterned Lives: The Lutheran Funeral Biography in Early Modern Germany (Wiesbaden, 2006), 29.
71 Michaela Vökel, ‘Vom Körperbild zum Erinnerungsbild: Zum Bildgebrauch im fürstlichen Trauerzeremoniell der Frühen Neuzeit’, in Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger and Thomas Weißbrich (eds.), Die Bildlichkeit symbolischer Akte (Münster, 2010), 223–51, esp. 242–9.
72 HStAS G87 Bü 26. ‘Unmassgeblicher Vorschlag’, unfoliated.
73 Kilian Heck, Genealogie als Monument und Argument: Der Beitrag dynastischer Wappen zur politischen Raumbildung der Neuzeit (Munich and Berlin, 2002).
74 Ehrenreich Weismann, Christliche Betrachtung der Betrübten Zeit und freuden-vollen Ewigkeit: Aus unterschiedlichen Trauer= und Todts Gedichten/ auch Andächtigen Abhandlungen/ von Dem Zustand künfftiger Dinge/ nach diesem Irrdischen Leben in Zweyen Theilen beschrieben und mit geistlichen Sinnbildern gezieret von Einer Gott=liebenden Seelen (Nuremberg, 1680), 28.
77Sechs Christliche Leich=Predigten / Uber dem hoch=seeligen Ableiben / Weiland deß Durchleuchtigsten Fursten und herrn / Herrn Eberharden III / Herzogen zu Würtemberg und Teck (Stuttgart, 1675), 4.
78 See Elke Axmacher, Johann Arndt und Paul Gerhardt: Studien zur Theologie, Frömmigkeit und geistlichen Dichtung des 17. Jahrhunderts (Tübingen, 2001); Hartmut Lehmann, ‘Zur Bedeutung von Religion und Religiosität im Barockzeitalter’, in Dieter Breuer (ed.), Religion und Religiosität im Barockzeitalter (Wiesbaden, 1995), 3–22.
79Sechs Christliche Leich=Predigten / Uber dem hoch=seeligen Ableiben / Weiland deß Durchleuchtigsten Fursten und herrn/Herrn Eberharden III / Herzogen zu Würtemberg und Teck (Stuttgart, 1675), 2.
80 Schukraft, Die Grablegen des Hauses Württemberg, 79–80.
81 Jill Bepler, ‘Die Fürstin als Betsäule: Anleitung und Praxis der Erbauung am Hofe’, Morgen-Glantz, xii (2002), 249–64.
* This essay is based on my doctoral research on Lutheran piety and visual culture in the Duchy of Württemberg. I am indebted to my doctoral supervisor Bridget Heal for her advice and to colleagues, particularly Nina Lamal.