What has become of the bones of the kings of Mallorca?
The strange history of the corpses of the monarchs of the Islands, now that the remains of James IV are being sought in Soria
PalmaWith an archaeological excavation, the remains of James IV, titular king of Mallorca, have been sought in Soria. In principle, it seems disconcerting that the bones of a sovereign of the Islands, even though he never managed to take possession of the crown, are found lost in the world. But this is just one more case of the strange adventures, after death, of those who in life were monarchs of the 'kingdom in the middle of the sea', between the 13th and 14th centuries: transfers, disappearances, a tomb with two heads and another with a strange object inside. Just as if they were victims of some kind of curse or, at the very least, of colossal bad luck.
The story begins with James I –everything begins with James I–, who died in Valencia, as is known, in 1275, 750 years ago now. He was buried in the pantheon of the monarchs of the Crown of Aragon, in the Cistercian monastery of Poblet, near Tarragona. However, the Peninsular War arrived, and the convent was looted by the invaders. The disasters continued with new looting with the arrival of the liberals to power, until, in 1835, it was subject to disamortization: the monks were expelled and the looters grabbed everything of value they found, to the point that the remains of James I, and of other monarchs, were left scattered throughout what was supposed to be their resting place.
A priest collected those remains. Years later, they were subject to identification, in a way that would horrify the forensic experts of our day. Since the chronicles stated that James I was a man of great height, it was agreed that the longest skeleton must be his. And since he had received, in the battles, an arrow wound to the head, it was decided that his skull was the one that presented a sign of these characteristics. To house what was supposed to be the body of the Conqueror, a new sepulcher was arranged, this time in the city of Tarragona, designed by Lluís Domènech i Muntaner, the architect of the Gran Hotel de Palma, the current CaixaForum.
Nearly a century later, under Franco's dictatorship, the monastery was restored and it was decided that the corpse of James I should return to Poblet. Then a new investigation was carried out and it was determined that that skull could not be his. There was another one, also marked, which, due to its characteristics, corresponded more closely to the description of the wound. The solution was Solomonic and surreal: to put both heads inside the same tomb. As for the tomb in Tarragona, it is now in the courtyard of the City Hall.
James II, who had a building obsession –at the taxpayer's expense, of course– commissioned two royal pantheons: one at the Cathedral of Palma and another at Saint John, in Perpignan, which was the true capital of the kingdom, the habitual place of residence of the monarch. He also ordered that, if he died in Perpignan, he should be buried in that city and, if he passed away in Mallorca, which was not likely, they should bury him in the City, where he indeed left this world, in 1311. It is just as well he did not decide otherwise, like the joke: “If I die in the upper town, bury me in the lower town, and if I die in the lower town, bury me in the upper town. Just to annoy.”
‘The Soup Tureen’ of James II
The chronicle Thalamus Parvus of Montpellier asserts that James II of Majorca, son and successor of James I to this kingdom, was buried in Poblet. As if we could trust chroniclers. The truth is that his body was interred in the Cathedral of Majorca. Not in the royal chapel, as was his wish, because it had not yet been finished, but in front of the high altar. The remains were placed in a wooden coffin, covered with a fabric bearing the royal coat of arms. As Bartomeu Bestard records, a few interventions were necessary: a new coffin, in 1389; a new cloth and an iron grille surrounding the tomb, in 1588; and a third coffin, in 1620.
In 1770, Charles III, the monarch who was supposed to have done everything, ordered the court-salaried artist Francesco Sabatini, architect of Madrid's Puerta de Alcalá, to design a new tomb to house the monarch's remains, which was installed between the high altar and the choir, then located in the center of the Cathedral. That new burial place, known as 'the Soup Tureen', turned the monarch's body into a kind of fairground attraction. Using a trapdoor, it was possible to take the corpse out so that visitors could contemplate it.
The body of James II remained incorrupt, which –of course– meant he was venerated as a kind of saint, although, as is known, it is a natural phenomenon that occurs in certain circumstances. Visitors would snatch teeth and small pieces of his body and clothing. But, as Antoni J. Quintana and Rosa M. Calafat observe, it is likely that James II was confused with James I, who also had a reputation for sanctity, despite his not-very-exemplary career.
'The Soup Tureen' ended up in the current Museum of Sacred Art with Gaudí's coveted renovation, around 1900. And the body of James II was deposited in a fourth wooden coffin. According to Bestard, frustrated projects for a new sarcophagus by Gaudí himself, Faust Morell, and Guillem Forteza followed. This lasted until the forties, when Frederic Marès sculpted the new tombs for James II, his son Sancho I, and his grandson James III.
King Sancho, who passed away in 1324, would have been buried in the other royal pantheon arranged by his father, Saint John the Old, in Perpignan, together with his mother and wife of James II, Esclarmunda of Foix. By popular subscription of 80,000 pesetas –a lot of money at the time–, the Mallorcans paid for the sarcophagus for Sancho I, installed in the Cathedral of Saint John –the New. The remains of the monarch and his mother presumably must still be somewhere in Saint John the Old, which is next door.
The three burials of James III
The story reaches James III, who, as is known, died in 1349 at the Battle of Llucmajor, attempting, in vain, to recover the kingdom that had been snatched from him by his brother-in-law Peter the Ceremonious of Aragon. At first, the remains of the defeated monarch were deposited in the same Llucmajor church. But the Ceremonious feared that, even though the Majorcans had not shown him much loyalty, over time a kind of cult towards the monarch might develop. So he had his remains moved very far away –for the time–: to the Cathedral of Valencia.
With the passage of time, the trail of the monarch was lost, until a canon, Roque Chabás, rediscovered his bones. Then it was decided, in 1905, to return them to Mallorca, where they were the object, with full solemnity, of a wake ceremony at the Llotja of Palma until they were interred at the Cathedral. La Almudaina recorded how, in his exhumation in Valencia, “three cubits” had been found, not two, as in any human body, and “an object of strange shape”.
And so we arrive at James IV, son of James III and frustrated heir to the crown having lost it at the hands of Peter the Ceremonious, and also a character who does not seem very admirable, as he went as far as publicly mistreating his wife, Joanna of Naples, perhaps traumatized by the long captivity he had to suffer in his youth. After a failed attempt to recover the crown, he died in Soria, in 1375, and they buried him in the convent of Saint Francis: in 1618, the flames of a fire devoured it in its entirety. A vacant lot remains there, where since 2008 his remains have been searched for.
There remains, still, one last sovereign of the Islands: her sister, Elisabeth, whom she designated as heir –hey! A woman!– and who, despite not managing to recover the family domains either, titled herself ‘Regina Maioricarium’; although she sold her rights to a French prince, Louis of Anjou, for the equivalent of about 113 million euros at the current exchange rate. She must have died around 1408 and, according to Gabriel Alomar Esteve, they buried her in the monastery of Santa Caterina, in Paris, which... Yes, the readers must have already imagined it: it was demolished in 1767, to build on the site a market with that same name, of Santa Caterina.
What should be done? Another archaeological expedition to try to locate the bones of Elisabeth of Mallorca in that corner of the capital of France, just as has been done with her brother in the Castilian city? Or, perhaps, it is best to let the tired bones of those who were sovereigns of the islanders rest in peace, never better said.
If the remains of the kings of Mallorca have gone through all kinds of adventures, imagine the fate of the rest of the members of the dynasty. Of a son of James II, Ferdinand –father of James III–, it is recorded that he was buried in Saint Dominic of Perpignan, the capital, much more so than the City, of the kingdom of Mallorca. However, with the French Revolution, the Dominicans were expelled from their convent and his trail was lost. Of his brother Philip, regent of Mallorca, it is not even known where he was buried.
Similar was the case of Elisabeth of Sabran, princess of Morea and Achaea, in Greece, and mother of James III. Despite the famous link of the Mallorcan dynasty with the Franciscans, she too was buried in a Dominican convent: that of Palma. With the process of desamortización, the confiscation and sale of ecclesiastical goods, Saint Dominic was demolished. On the site, the Círculo Mallorquín was built, which is now the Parliament.
A curious case is that of Friar James of Mallorca, eldest son and frustrated heir of James II, who renounced the crown to become a Franciscan. It is assumed that his recumbent statue comes from the convent of this order, in Perpignan, which is currently exhibited at the Hyacinthe Rigaud Museum in that city.
What is disconcerting is that this prince who preferred the faith of Christ, if it is him, appears dressed as a knight, sword included, and not as a religious. But this was not as strange as it might seem. It often happened that those who had been princes, but who had decided to end their days in a convent, were represented in both of their roles. If it is really the recumbent statue of Friar James, it would be, as Maurice Durliat has commented, the only funerary monument of the past of the royal house of Mallorca, since those of the kings James II, Sancho and James III date from the forties of the last century.
Information prepared based on texts by Maria Barceló Crespí, Bartomeu Bestard, Román Piña Homs, Antoni J. Quintana and Rosa M. Calafat, Ireneu Castillo, Justo García Añón, Eusèbia Rayó Ferrer, Gabriel Alomar Esteve, Carlos Garrido, Antonio Ortega, Gaston Vuillier, Maurice Durliat, Josep-David Garrido i Valls and J. Ernest Martínez Ferrando and Diario de Mallorca and Última Hora.