Interpreting Las Meninas
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Transcript of Interpreting Las Meninas
The President and Fellows of Harvard College
Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology
Velázquez and Naturalism II: Interpreting "Las Meninas"Author(s): Emily UmbergerSource: RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, No. 28 (Autumn, 1995), pp. 94-117Published by: The President and Fellows of Harvard College acting through the Peabody Museum ofArchaeology and EthnologyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20166932 .Accessed: 25/01/2011 19:50
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94 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 1. Diego Velazquez, Las Meninas, 1656. Oil on canvas, 321 x 281 cm. Museo del Prado, Madrid. Photo: Courtesy of Museo del Prado.
Velazquez and naturalism II
Interpreting Las Meninas
EMILY UMBERGER
Diego Velazquez's (1599-1660) group portrait of
1656, Las Meninas (fig. 1), has been the object of
much speculation since its intellectual rediscovery in
the late nineteenth century. In recent decades it has
become the subject of divergent interpretations and
even sharp disagreement.1 As characterized by Svetlana
Alpers (1983), the split is between those, like herself, who see the painting's meaning primarily in its
revolutionary representational qualities and those who
seek to reconstruct an iconography. Alpers emphasizes the contribution of formal qualities to meaning and,
along with an increasing number of recent scholars, declares art history's traditional iconographie approach too limited to handle the task of comprehending form
and meaning together.2 In the case of Las Meninas she
objects both to the stories invented to explain the
depicted activities and to the motivations hypothesized for the painting's creation, as in Jonathan Brown's
study of 1978. I, too, am dissatisfied with the current
trend in art historical exegesis. I see the iconographies
suggested so far for Las Meninas as too narrowly
conceived, and I agree with Alpers that they fail to
recognize the extent to which the painting's mode of
representation is part of an intended message. While
not suggesting a plot, however, I do argue that Las
Meninas contains a traditional iconography that alludes
to verbally articulated ideas through allegory. As background to this alternate reading I refer to the
play Darlo todo y no dar nada (To give all and to give
nothing) by Velazquez's contemporary, the court
poet-playwright Pedro Calder?n de la Barca
(1600-1681). In the play Calder?n used the story of
Alexander the Great and his painter Apelles to express
thoughts on theoretical matters that would have been
of concern to both himself, as a verbal artist, and
Velazquez, as a visual artist. Velazquez's biographer Antonio Palomino later compared Philip IV's (r. 1621
1665) habit of visiting his studio with Alexander's visits
to watch Apelles at work (1947:904), and Brown has
suggested that the representation of such a visit
(through implication) in Las Meninas was probably meant to recall the classical precedent.3 Brown's
interpretation centers, however, on Velazquez's private ambitions and the king's support of these in an
argument involving the struggles of seventeenth-century artists for recognition of the liberal arts status of
painting (1978; 1986:253-264).4 It is the premise of
this paper that such personal issues are reflected in
generalized form in the painting's imagery, but that
they are embedded in allusions to theoretical issues
involving portraiture, and through portraiture,
representation in general. In addition, I suggest that
Calder?n's play provides an articulate exposition of
these issues as they might have been voiced by
Velazquez himself.
The argument ultimately hinges on two darkened
paintings on the back wall of the depicted space, and,
I thank David Rosand and Lisa Vergara for helpful suggestions on
a student paper on the subject of Las Meninas. Cynthia Elmas, Betsy
Fahlman, Vivien Fryd, Anthony Gully, Linda McAllister, and
Francesco Pellizzi provided valuable suggestions on content,
translations, and editorial matters. I am grateful to the School of Art of
Arizona State University for covering the cost of photographs, and the
College of Fine Arts of Arizona State University for a research grant to
travel to Madrid in 1994. Finally, I thank Dr. Angeles Garc?a Pardo for
her hospitality during my stay in Madrid. For Emily, Margaret, and Alex.
1. This is the second of two articles reading paintings by
Velazquez against the background of the Spanish court and its
intellectual climate. For the first, on Los Borrachos (1629, Prado), see
Umberger (1993). Much has been written on Las Meninas. Cited here
are only those works pertinent to the arguments presented. For further
bibliography, see Brown (1978) and Wohl (1987). For references to
what it was called at different dates and where it was located, see
L?pez-Rey (1979:502-503).
2. Reactions are centered on Panofsky's explication of 1939 of
the concepts of iconography and iconology (Panofsky 1972). For a
recent overview of the problems of attaching meaning to paintings, see Cassidy (1993:3-15).
3. Palomino's biography of 1715-24 is the most complete on
Velazquez's life (1947:891-936). For confirmations of its value as a
primary source, despite its later date, see Brown (1986:253-256) and
Veliz (1986:141-142). The biographer of Velazquez's early life was
Francisco Pacheco, his father-in-law and teacher (1956, 1:155-166). 4. See also Kahr's similar explication of the painting's
iconography, which, however, puts more emphasis on the importance of the Apelles story and the painting's relationship to northern gallery
pictures (1975; 1976:chap. 3).
96 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
in doing so, grapples with another problem that lurks
behind all discussions of meaning in Las Meninas. That
is, should these barely visible mythological subjects within such a self-consciously naturalistic composition be seen as performing the traditional allegorical function of the painting-within-a-painting? Although no
one has addressed this point directly, it is one on
which modern scholars seem to vacillate. Las Meninas
was appreciated by nineteenth-century scholars
conditioned by contemporary art movements, notably
Impressionism, for its spontaneous arrangement,
painterly brushwork, and effects of light and color (for
example, Justi 1889:414-422). Notwithstanding our
knowledge that Velazquez's naturalism was part of a
very different complex of ideas, we are influenced by these earlier perceptions to the neglect of other aspects of his art. We now know the extent to which the
palace environment in which Velazquez worked was
infused with allegorical thinking?in the theatrical
performances, paintings on the walls, poems composed
by courtiers, and even everyday speech?but we are
still uneasy about suggesting the presence of such
artifices in a "modern" painting like Las Meninas.
In this view of Velazquez's naturalism we follow, albeit with very different feelings and motivations,
Velazquez's most critical contemporary, the
conservative Italianate artist and theorist Vicente
Carducho (1576-1638).5 Carducho knew Velazquez in
the 1620s when the latter was adapting to the demands
of his new position at court, and, as a hostile rival, he
wished to group the young artist with those extremists
whom he characterized disapprovingly as direct and
uneducated imitators of nature. The testimonies of his
biographers, however, and the evidence of the
paintings themselves demonstrate that Velazquez
aspired to (and eventually achieved to a superior
degree), not untempered naturalism but the
contemporary ideal of "learned painting" (docta
pintura) as espoused by Carducho himself.6 He was a
painter of reality who "relied on nature for everything" (Pacheco 1956, 2:13), but he studied equally and used
the scientific treatises of his profession, the visual
inventions of his predecessors,7 and the literary figures of classical and contemporary authors.8
Las Meninas must be recognized as an intentionally inextricable mix of nature and art, with the elements of
art identifiable to the seventeenth-century viewer to
greater or lesser degree depending on his knowledge. Thus, the task of the modern iconographer in the
reading of such a painting is a difficult one. In addition to reconstructing the historical events and artistic
background against which the painting might be
understood, he or she must attempt to hypothesize which events and issues are alluded to in its clues; how these clues are structured within the pictorial composition; how the various ideas evoked might be
connected by the seventeenth-century court viewer; and which viewers, readings, and additional resonances the artist might have anticipated.
The pictorial structure
The largest composition in Velazquez's oeuvre,
measuring 3.21 meters high by 2.81 meters wide, Las
Meninas conveys, seemingly, a view of everyday
palace life. The room depicted is a real space, an
apartment in the Madrid palace, the Alc?zar, before its
destruction by fire in 1734 (Brown 1978:99-101; Moffitt 1980; Orso 1986:166-167). The paintings on
the walls, Spanish copies of mythological compositions by Rubens, are recorded in inventories as having hung on those walls (Orso 1986:chap. 5). The occupants of the room are real people, members of the court, all but one identified by name (Palomino 1947:920-922; S?nchez Cant?n 1952). Although one might expect the
subjects of this canvas and its size to be more
5. Carducho's thoughts are known from his treatise of 1633,
written during and published soon after a period of strife between the
two artists (see Umberger 1993).
6. Palomino emphasizes Velazquez's learning in his biography
(1947:891-895, 930). Given Carducho's antipathy to the artist, it is
ironic that the mature Velazquez was to be the most learned artist of
his acquaintance. Yet Velazquez's definition of learning went beyond
what Carducho envisioned and excluded the blatant moral message
that the older man, as a post-Tr?dentine thinker, thought necessary.
7. The inventive use of types and models was not considered a
mere exercise in the seventeenth century; it was a necessary
prerequisite for "learned painting." Carducho, in fact, placed the study of the great works of the past in opposition to the practices of a
painter like Caravaggio, who (putatively) copied nature directly on the
canvas (for example, 1633:52r, 54r, 89r-89v). Such quotes could also
convey meaning; see, for instance, Umberger on Los Borrachos
(1993) and Seidel on Las Meninas (1993). 8. Among the early authors who effected this change in our
thinking on Velazquez were S?nchez Cant?n (1925), who by
publishing the inventory of Velazquez's library indicated the breadth
of his learning; Diego ?ngulo I?iguez (1947), who first revealed the
extent to which he studied the compositions of predecessors; and
Charles de Tolnay (1949), who in his study of Las Meninas and
another great composition, Las Hilanderas, first discussed
compositional precedents for these two and literary allusions, that is,
iconography.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 97
appropriate to formal portraiture and history painting, the positioning, gestures, and movements of the figures are natural and spontaneous, as was customary in
genre painting (Brown 1978:87). The setting is the principal room of the apartments
previously assigned to the Infante Baltasar Carlos
(1629-1646), Philip IV's son and heir to the throne.
After his death the space was redecorated?probably by the artist himself?and, although not his regular
workshop, it seems to have been used by Velazquez at
least on this one occasion (Orso 1986:173-174). At the center of the composition stands the five-year-old Infanta Margarita, at the time the only child of Philip IV
and his second wife, Mariana, whose images are
reflected in the mirror on the wall behind her. With
regal poise and adult dignity, the child has turned her
head and looks out into the space occupied by the
spectator, while two flanking maids-of-honor (meninas) from noble families tend to her. The kneeling Do?a
Mar?a Augustina Sarmiento offers her a drink from a
small pitcher, and Do?a Isabel de Velasco bends toward her while glancing in the same direction as the
princess. Further to the left, Velazquez himself, holding brush and palette, leans out from behind a large canvas
and likewise gazes at the spectator. In the right
foreground is a dwarf, the adult Marib?rbola, and a
midget, the child Nicol?s Pertusato, who places his
foot on the back of a large dog. Behind them a woman
dressed as a widow, the lady-in-waiting Do?a Marcela
de Ulloa, and her unidentified escort converse. At the
back of the room to the right of the mirror Jos? Nieto
Velazquez, standing in a brightly lit doorway, pauses to
look back across the depicted space. Nieto, as the chamberlain (aposentador) in charge of the queen's household, held an office comparable to Velazquez's own?the king's aposentador (Alpers 1983:32-33). (The two men had the same maternal surname but seem not
to have been related.)
Finally, although unseen, the object of
attention?whose presence before the painting is
implied by the glances of six of the nine people?is
generally acknowledged to be either the king alone or
the king and queen, posing for a portrait or entering the room to witness the creation of the painting. Such an event is described in an account of the history of
Las Meninas itself. According to Palomino, "this
painting was very esteemed by his Majesty, and so
much that he visited frequently to see it painted; and
likewise the queen Our Lady Do?a Mariana of Austria came down many times and the princesses, and ladies"
(1947:921).
Despite all of its qualities of reality and their natural
presentation, years of scholarly perusal have suggested and revealed a complex of artifices behind the
composition. This is a very structured reality; as J. A.
Emmens has commented, "one must distinguish the
'invention' of the canvas from its style of painting" (1961:51). What were the visual precedents for Las
Meninas? The portrayal of a room in a palace or noble
house decorated with paintings is reminiscent of a type common in the Netherlands, called the gallery picture, and the angle of presentation of the room?with
windows on one side, door opening in back, and
empty upper reaches?is seen in both Netherlandish
and German precedents (Kubier 1966; Kahr 1975). Some gallery pictures also include patrons and artists, either Alexander and Apelles or contemporary patrons and artists (Kahr 1975:230-237). Even the device of
depicting an artist/performer within the room while
implying the presence of his subject/patron outside is
found in earlier northern examples (Kubier 1966;
Steinberg 1981:46-47). Finally, the mirror that
accomplishes this last effect in Las Meninas, apparently itself an invention for the composition (Orso 1986:170),
has as a distinguished predecessor Arnolfini Portrait
(1434) by Jan van Eyck (before 1395-1441), which was
in the Spanish royal collections at the time (Tolnay 1949:34).9
In contrast to these suggested sources for the setting few have been offered for the disposition of figures.
What observers consider an arrangement without
obvious precedents, however, vaguely reflects elements of earlier Italianate groupings and poses. From this
point of view, the figures fall into three groups: the six
in the foreground, the conversing pair in the right middle ground, and the single figure in active pose between the room and a more distant space in the
background. Similar arrangements and figure types are
found in such compositions as Tintoretto's Christ in the
House of Mary and Martha (Pinakothek, Munich), Veronese's Finding of Moses (Prado), and El Greco's
Purification of the Temple (fig. 2; The Frick Collection, New York). These, too, have a multifigure foreground group, a conversing couple to the side and somewhat
behind the group (one with a hand at breast level), and
a figure in active pose (twisting, with one arm raised
and one leg bent) and diminished in size to introduce
9. See also Seidel's recent interpretation of Las Meninas as a
"repainting" of the Arnolfini Portrait in reverse (1993:190-205), an
idea brought up again later in this essay.
98 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 2. El Greco, Purification of the Temple, ca. 1595-1600. Oil on canvas, 42 x 53 cm. The
Frick Collection, New York. Photo: Courtesy of The Frick Collection.
an opening or corridor of space into the more distant
background. Without precedent even in Velazquez's own oeuvre
is the careful orchestration of colors, light effects, and
shapes in a system of correspondences simultaneously
linking and contrasting figures and objects across the
canvas, or linking and distancing them along diagonal lines from front to back, in an almost inexhaustible
number of combinations.10 In addition to demonstrating the different aspects of his art these devices were most
likely meant by the artist to provide an intellectual
puzzle especially for the educated viewer. Essential to
its structure is the complex geometry of the
composition (the lines of the room itself and the
patterned arrangement of rectangular shapes on the
back wall), the correspondences and contrasts between
these shapes, and their relationships with the figures before them. Among the results of this structuring are
the puzzling perspective of the composition?with its
play between three different centers in different
reconstructions?and the implied correspondences and
interactions with imagined spectators in the space before the canvas.
Also basic to the composition is the grouping of
motifs in twos and threes. All figures in the painting, with the exception of the centralized princess, fall into
pairs: the two aposentadores in black, the two
meninas, the dwarf and the midget, the two chaperons, and the royal couple (notice also the balance between
males and females). This coupling is not inflexible:
further pairings suggest contrasts, as between the
princess and the female dwarf; and groups of three are
10. The only comparable composition in this respect is his
Surrender of Breda (1635, Prado). There are a number of fascinating
descriptions of Las Meninas (for example, Foucault, 1973:3-16). The
following analyzes it as a fixed structure. For one that considers its
shifting visual qualities, see Steinberg (1981).
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 99
also formed, as in the flanking meninas and central
princess (see also Kahr 1975:225; Steinberg 1981:53). The play between twos and threes is set up in the
rectangles on the back wall, the two large paintings above the three smaller frames of the mirror flanked by two doors. These are compositionally linked with the
pair of aposentadores and the trio of females in the
foreground. Most important is the anchoring of the two
palace officials, the distant Nieto Velazquez and the
closer Diego Velazquez, to the architectural setting. One would pair them on a diagonal axis because of
their similar black garb, three-quarter-length poses, and
placement to the right of the brown grids of the door
and the back of the canvas, respectively. At the same
time, their heads are roughly centered under the two
large paintings on the back wall, but Velazquez stands
in front of the left-hand door and Nieto stands behind
the right-hand door. In this manner they are linked to
the geometric framework in both two- and three
dimensional readings of the composition, while framing the central mirror image of the monarchs; but they are
also distanced from each other and create depth in the
composition through their relative scale.
In contrast, the heads of the three females in the
foreground are located (at different levels) to the right of the lower trio of door frames and mirror. Thus, as
the eye moves from the background wall to foreground
figures, the composition's focal point shifts from the
mirror between the two doors (and their associated
male figures) to the princess between the two meninas.
Her head is at the actual, horizontal center of the canvas.
Adding to the complexity of the composition is the
fact that the mirror and the right doorway form a pair within the group of three lower frames?because of
their luminosity and the similar scale of the figures they contain?in contrast to the dark, closed door to the left
and behind Velazquez. Further, the mirror's surface and
the bright area of the door are of about the same size
and level and both have curtains draped from one side.
However, the ghostly ?mages of the king and queen
emerging from a dark background contrast with the
dark silhouette of Nieto against the bright light. There
is, in fact, a tension between these two areas. The
mirror is centered on the back wall, but the eye is
pulled toward the doorway by the vanishing point of
the lines of the architecture located behind its enclosed
figure, Nieto, as well as the brighter light of the
background. Thus, the focus of the composition shifts,
according to which clues the viewer chooses at a
particular moment, between three points in a triangle,
the mirror, the door, and the princess in front and
between them (Steinberg 1981:51). The projection of these structural relationships into
the area before the painting gives rise to another set of
questions concerning what cannot be seen: the
number, identity, and viewpoint(s) of the observer(s) in
front of it, the subject of the canvas on which
Velazquez is painting, and the source of the mirror
image. The (modern) viewer is compelled to speculate on these questions because of the near life-size scale of
the composition that seemingly invites entrance (Alpers
1983:31), the invisibility of the image on the canvas,
and, most of all, the unusual outward orientation of the
painting, where six of the nine personages look out
into the viewer's space and the mirror ?mage seems to
imply who is in that space. There are three schools of
thought on the subject of the canvas: that Velazquez is
portraying the princess, that he is painting Las Meninas
itself, or that he is depicting the king and queen posed
according to the mirror image. The mirror is thought to
reflect the actual forms of the king and queen as they see themselves across the room, the center of the
painting on which Velazquez paints (either a portrait of
the king and queen or the mirror image in Las
Meninas), or both the king and queen as seen by themselves and the center of the canvas as seen by an
observer to their right, simultaneously. I believe the
following views to be the most convincing.
First, it is important to credit George Kubler's insight (1985) that the mirror reflection cannot represent the
king and queen's view of themselves across the room, as this would be optically impossible. If they were
observing their own reflections from such a distance, these would be tiny and much of the room would be
encompassed. Instead, Charles Moffitt's reconstruction
of the perspective from which the mirror is seen is
most convincing (1980:281-287, fig. 3). Moffitt
suggests that if the viewer stands to the right of the
mirror and opposite Nieto, as the location of the
vanishing point demands, he is seeing the scene
through a doorway at the opposite end of the room (as revealed in the plan of palace). From this point of view
the mirror reflects whatever is at the same angle to its
left, that is, it must be reflecting a portion of the canvas
on which Velazquez is painting. As Moffitt points out
(1980:286), this is what Palomino says of the mirror
image. If the viewer is standing further from the mirror
than the canvas (as he is here), the part of the canvas
visible in the mirror is magnified so that the bust
portraits of the monarchs occupy its expanse. It is most
likely then that the mirror is meant to reflect the
100 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 3. Peter Paul Rubens, Pallas and Arachne, ca. 1636. Oil on panel, 27 x 38 cm.
Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond. Photo: Courtesy of Virginia Museum of Fine
Arts, The Williams Fund.
canvas, which in some form includes a double portrait of the king and queen (see also Snyder and Cohen
1980, who come to the same general conclusions). If one accepts the idea of one intended viewpoint or
observer, it is logical to accept Brown's hypothesis that
the one observer for whom it was created was Philip IV
(Brown, 1978:90; 1986:259, 303, note 62). As Brown
notes, Las Meninas was probably made for the space in
which it was later recorded as hanging, the king's office in the summer quarters (pieza del despacho de
verano), located on the floor above and accessible to
the depicted room by a stairway beyond the doorway that the viewer enters in Moffitt's reconstruction. Moffitt
also suggests that the painting could have been hung in
this office directly above the spot occupied by the
viewer of the painting (1980:277, fig. 2).
Seventeenth-century theorists would concur with
modern scholars that a one-point (Albertian)
perspective puts the viewer in a position of power, but in a painting like Las Meninas, which, as we will see, in every respect addresses the king, it is not logical to
think of the artist as implying his own presence at this
point. The painting is, of course, his vision, but like a
palace theatrical production that it resembles in various
ways, the setting is staged so that the king commands
the perspective (Varey 1984:401; Brown 1986:303, note 62; Greer 1991:82-85, fig. 11). The queen's
presence beside him, also as in the theater, seems to be
implied by the mirror image, but this is not
demonstrable.11
Events and issues
Recent iconographie interpretations of Las Meninas
should be characterized as variations on a theme: most
scholars who focus on this aspect of the painting in
some way or other see it against the background of
contemporary seventeenth-century arguments about the
social and intellectual status of the art of painting and
its practitioners. Some include the large paintings on
the back wall in the argument and some do not. In the
11. Some scholars suggest multiple observers or a primary observer other than the king. Alpers's wish to account for the artist's
presence outside, as main viewer, as well as inside the canvas
(1983:37, 42, note 10) is both too literal and too modern. I also
belive that the artist did not map out the perspective to allow for an
anonymous viewer in this position opposite the vanishing point. Those who argue for the latter put the king and queen opposite the
mirror (for example, Mestre Fiol 1972).
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 101
earliest of these interpretations Charles de Tolnay
suggested an allegorical role for them (1949:32-33). The paintings were Spanish copies of Rubens's
compositions of two scenes from Ovid's
Metamorphoses, the weaving contest between
Pallas/Minerva and Arachne and the music contest
between Apollo and Pan, which now exist only in oil
sketches (figs. 3-4). Tolnay suggested that in depicting contests between gods and mortals these ?mages may have represented for Velazquez the triumph of divine art over human craft, in keeping with his self-depiction in the act of inspired gazing rather than the application
of paint. (Tolnay actually misidentified the second
painting as one of Apollo and Marsyas, but this does not affect his general interpretation.) Kubler's article of
1966 brought this type of reading in line with a more
tangible issue dwelt on in contemporary treatises, and of great importance to Spanish painters. He saw the
mythological paintings as demonstrating that painting, as represented by the Arachne picture, was a liberal art
equal to music, as represented by the Apollo and Pan one (correctly identified first in Emmens 1961:57). In
Spain, at the time, painters were still fighting the battle for the recognition of liberal arts status, which involved
their exemption from taxation and conscription. Kubier
also noted that by representing himself in the same
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room with the king, Velazquez was subtly referring to
the idea of the nobility of painting, by association with
monarchs.
The most widely accepted interpretation along this
line is Brown's (1978; 1986:253-264; see also, Kahr
1975; 1976:chap. 3). Influenced by Jos? Ortega y Gasset's biography of Velazquez of 1943
(1972:84-106), as well as those by Tolnay and Kubier, Brown placed Las Meninas in a more personal context,
relating it to Velazquez's pretensions to nobility, his bid in the 1650s for knighthood in the prestigious order of
Santiago. As stated at the outset, Brown has suggested that the implied presence of the king outside the
painting would have reminded the mid-seventeenth
century viewer of the relationship between Alexander
and Apelles, as well as several more recent artists
knighted by kings, notably Titian and Rubens, whose
examples were typically cited as proof of the elevated status of painting. Brown also sees the sophistication of
the composition of Las Meninas as aiming to
demonstrate that painting was an intellectual pursuit rather than just a craft, thus supporting Velazquez's
personal ambitions: a practitioner of Velazquez's ability was more than a gifted manual laborer, and was
therefore entitled to maintain his birth claims to noble status while practicing the liberal art of painting.
102 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Granted the currency of these ideas and issues, Alexander and Apelles appeared in another context of
equal importance to seventeenth-century artists, which
more closely fits with both the allegorical clues and
representational qualities of Las Meninas?2 They are
featured in theoretical discussions about the nature and
function of portraiture and, on a practical level, the
problem of creating truthful portraits that are not
offensive in their reality. The original anecdote, which
actually involves Apelles' portrayal of another king, is
found in Pliny's Natural History (Book 35:90):
He also painted a portrait of King Antigonos who was
blind of one eye, being the first to devise a means of
concealing the infirmity by presenting his profile, so that the absence of the eye would be attributed merely to the
position of the sitter, not to a natural defect, for he gave
only the part of the face which could be shown uninjured. Pliny 1968:127
The anecdote is repeated in Francisco Pacheco's
treatise, El arte de la pintura (1649), translated into the
language of opposing categories typical of
seventeenth-century Spanish treatises (and their Italian
predecessors):13 "Apelles was praised for having
portrayed in profile King Antigonos, who was blind in
one eye, having posed him from the healthy side. . . .
This is a discretion (prudencia) which can be used with
important persons, without detriment to the truth (la
verdad)" (1956, 1:105).14 The most interesting restatement of the story is found
in Calder?n's play Darlo todo y no dar nada, which
was performed seemingly twice at court in the years before Las Meninas was painted?in 1651 and/or 1653.15 Calder?n's deposition of 1677 in which he
defended painting as a liberal art is the document
usually cited by art historians as indicative of his ideas, but the dramas are equally, if not more, interesting for
their implicit and at times explicit theoretical content.16
Calder?n, like Velazquez, faced the problem of
addressing royalty, whose persons, actions, and
characters he portrayed, albeit allegorically and in
generalized terms. He also used painted and sculpted
portraits as important dramatic elements in a number of
plays, and artists as major characters in several (Ter Horst 1982b). In fact, Calder?n used the visual arts to
stand for his own art at a time when poetry and
painting were considered closely related. A court
portraitist is one of the protagonists of Darlo todo,
portraits appear at several points in the plot, and the
nature of portraiture is dwelt on at length. One scene
not only addresses the same issues alluded to in Las
Meninas (to be argued below) but also contains details
referring particularly to the contemporary Spanish court.
In this scene Alexander is judging a painting contest
between portraits of himself by Apelles and two other
artists, Zeuxis and Temanthes. Alexander has a bad
eye, which Temanthes does not represent at all, while
Zeuxis represents the fault in great detail. Apelles
compromises by representing Alexander in
three-quarter view so that a shadow falls over his bad
side, thereby playing down the fault without omitting it
altogether. Apelles is rewarded by being appointed
painter of the chamber (pintor de c?mara). The scene is
worth quoting at length:
Alexander (upon examining Timanthes' painting): This is not my portrait.
Timanthes: Why? Alexander: Because I do not see in it that spot (mancha),
which is the blemish (borr?n) on my face, your brush
having put all its skill into disguising it. In not telling me
of it (decfrmela) you have been a flatterer (lisonjero), it
being almost treason (traici?n), that you lie to me in my face. This portrait gives a vile example, in which no one
speaks to his king of his defects. Then how [can] he emend them if he never [comes] to know of them? . . .
Give me yours Zeuxis.
12. See also Alpers's critique of this strain of interpretation
(1983:41, note 5).
13. On such artistic polarities in general, see McKim-Smith et al.
for Spain (1988:15-33) and Michael Baxandall for Italy (1971 :chap. 2).
14. For prudencia, other authors use the words respeto, decoro, and discreci?n; for verdad: lo natural, imitaci?n, semejanza, and lo
parecido. 15. The play is recorded as having been performed on 22
December 1651 for Queen Mariana's birthday and in celebration of
her recovered good health in 1653 (Reichenberger 1979:203). It was
published in 1657 in Octava parte de comedias nuevas escogidas. The title is made comprehensible in the final scene as relating to
the giving of Campaspe to Apelles, in a complex play on the multiple senses of the words (see Calder?n 1959:1223, 1269-1270). It might also be understood as referring to the giving of "all and nothing" in
the painted portrayals of the characters, again in multiple senses. In a
negative sense this would entail the revealing of superficial likeness
through physical details (darlo todo), but not the soul (nada)) in a
positive sense, it would entail the revealing of true likeness, including
the soul (todo), without physical details (nada). See further discussion
of Velazquez's technique below.
16. As first noted by Curtius in his article of 1948 on Calder?n's
art theories (1963). For discussion of Calder?n's ideas about art by
other literary historians, see Hesse (1952, on Calder?n and
Velazquez); Gates (1961); and Ter Horst, whose work is especially
important for the following discussion (1982a:part 3, where Darlo
todo is treated in detail; 1982b). For Calder?n's deposition, see
Wilson (1974).
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 103
Zeuxis (aside): At least in this one I quiet nothing (no le callo nada).
Alexander: Yours is more like (parecido); but is no less
culpable.
Zeuxis: In what, Sire?
Alexander: In that I see my defect in it, so blatant, that I
believe you have put all your effort into telling me of it; so that I am as offended by this as the other; since that
which in one is flattery (lisonja) in the other is effrontery (atrevimiento). Neither is this an example for the world ... no one ignorant should speak his feelings to his
king's face [literally, to his king in his face]; if to silence them is a type of treason, it is no less a form of
disrespect to declare them openly. . . .
Apelles, let us
see your portrait.
Apelles: I offer it with apprehension. Alexander: Why?
. . . Only you know how one must
speak to his king, since . . . the fault is neither said nor
quieted, [with] half of the face casting a shadow on the other half. You have found a good way of speaking and
quieting discretely . . . [in] leaving [the defect] underneath you inform (awsa) me that I have it, with such decorum (decoro), that respect cannot be offended. ... No one but Apelles can portray me from now on, as
my pintor de c?mara.
Calder?n 1959:1230-1231
Calder?n is treating a broader theme found in
contemporary political treatises as well as other of his
plays: the difficulty of delivering unpleasant truths
diplomatically to those in power (Greer 1991:79-82). What is of interest here is how this version reflects his
theories on art and how he changed the anecdote to
make it more particular to the court. He made the king Alexander rather than the visiting Antigonos, thus
immediately bringing to mind Philip and Velazquez, and he structured the scene to allude to an important event of the 1620s. By expanding the simple example of one artist's cleverness into a contest involving several artists, with the winner receiving a position at
court, he was recalling the painting contest of 1627
between court artists that Philip held on Velazquez's behalf and after which he made him usher of the
chamber?soon to be followed by his appointment as
pintor de c?mara (Umberger 1993:25-26). This was
just the first of many competitions in Velazquez's career; all of his subsequent court appointments were a
matter of contention, with the artist's candidacy always contested and the appointment granted through the
intercession of the monarch.17
On the theoretical level, Calder?n has Apelles solve
the problem of the sometimes conflicting goals of
likeness and decorum, what Pacheco had called truth
and prudence, in royal portrayals, a challenge for
Velazquez throughout his career. Calder?n has Zeuxis
and Temanthes represent the two sides, which have
become the unacceptable extremes of effrontery (atrevimiento) and lying flattery (lisonja). Apelles, like
Velazquez, avoided both extremes. Although the
contest of 1627 involved history painting, the issue of
naturalism in portraiture was at the heart of the
conflicts dividing the court artists. Philip called for the
contest, in fact, to defend Velazquez against accusations that he could "paint only a head," with the
implication that he copied it directly without
improvement, thus risking the inclusion of insulting
improprieties, and, additionally, that he was incapable of more ambitious compositions.
The imagery in Las Meninas differs from the play, but there are unmistakable parallels: the king is in the
artist's studio; his portrait is being painted; there is a
reference in the mirror to the truth of the portrayal; there are allusions to artistic competition in both
allegorical paintings; and one of these paintings depicts an artist who portrays her superiors with atrevimiento
(her creation is not a portrait in the strict sense but is
still a portrayal of sorts). The tie to court drama is also
apparent in the painting's stagelike presentation, in its
being addressed to the king as principal viewer, and in
the obvious pairings of people and motifs. The pairing of comparable but contrasting characters and concepts (the latter often through word plays) is constant
throughout Calder?n's plays.18 The structure of Las
Meninas mimics this, perhaps intentionally, to evoke a
playlike literary reading of its imagery. The two paintings, identified by Palomino as scenes
from the Metamorphoses by Rubens (1947:921), were
actually copies by Velazquez's son-in-law, Juan Bautista del Mazo, of oil sketches that Rubens had
made for the series of mythological subjects to
decorate the Torre de la Parada.19 They were hanging as depicted even in Palomino's time (L?pez-Rey 1979:502) and, although they are only dimly
17. For his court positions, see Brown (1978:103); for accounts of
the envy and competition that followed him throughout, see
Palomino's biography (1947:935 and elsewhere).
18. Such pairings also, of course, reflect the more general habit of
classifying ideas as opposing pairs in theoretical treatises.
19. For other discussions of the paintings, see Brown (1978:104, note 51), Emmens (1961:56-57), Kahr (1975:244-245), Moffitt
(1980:296-297, note 9), Orso (1986:chap. 5), and Seidel
(1993:190-192). For the Torre de la Parada paintings, see Alpers (1971).
104 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
perceived, there is no doubt in my mind that they were
meant to be read in relation to the occupants of the room. Recent work by Orso and others makes it
obvious that paintings on the walls of the palace were
characteristically read in relation to the royal
inhabitants, either as positive examples and parallels or
negative contrasts and warnings (Orso 1986; Brown
and Elliott 1980). Velazquez himself was steeped in this
way of thinking about palace decor; by the time of the
painting of Las Meninas he had been in charge of the
decoration of several important rooms, including
possibly the one depicted.20 He and his fellow palace dwellers were conditioned too to identify mythological characters with public and court figures by dramas like
Calder?n's (Greer 1991:102-105), which give an idea
of how such references were verbalized.
That the subjects of thes paintings were generally
recognizable is implicit in Palomino's ekphrasis; and
the specific incidents pictured (as identified from
palace inventories) are readily interpretable in relation to the inhabitants of the room. They provide "moral
lessons" through negative contrasts to the good
relationship between Velazquez and his patron. The
Pallas and Arachne painting can be seen as
representing the punishment of the artist who infringes on due respect; and the Apollo and Pan painting, the
punishment of the judge who chooses an inferior artist.
The first relates to Velazquez who is standing directly below it, the second to Nieto below it, and both to the
king, who was simultaneously the subject and judge of
Velazquez's art. Velazquez has these paintings serve
the proper function of paintings in royal galleries, as
outlined by Carducho. "If it should be ... to the taste of the owner, to paint the stories of Virgil, Homer, and the fables of Ovid, try to demonstrate . . . the virtuous
moral contained within" (1633:108v-109r). In Ovid's story of Apollo and Pan (Metamorphoses
11, 85-193), Pan challenged Apollo to a music contest
and Timolus, the mountain god, was chosen as judge. First, Pan played on his pipes a barbaric song that
pleased Midas, who was also listening. When Apollo
played on his lyre, Timolus ordered Pan to lower his
pipes. All approved except Midas who began to argue,
questioning the judgment. Apollo, thinking Midas's ears
less than human, changed them into those of an ass. In
the Rubens painting the moment depicted is one of
punishment and reward. As Timolus places the wreath
of victory on Apollo's head, Apollo with a gesture
changes Midas's ears. Midas then is a foolish judge who chooses an obviously inferior performer. In
contrast, Philip IV was a wise judge who chose
Velazquez for his artist and subsequently backed him
for a series of positions at court. Most recently, in
1652, one year after the first performance of Darlo todo
and four years before the creation of Las Meninas,
Philip had supported Velazquez's candidacy for
aposentador over that of Nieto, among others (S?nchez Cant?n 1952:19). Still unrealized at the time of the
painting was Velazquez's bid for knighthood; so this
ambition has to be considered as a further implication of Las Meninas' imagery. Support of Velazquez in this
respect could also be seen as an objective of
Calder?n's play, as he emphasized Apeles' mobility and that of his art (Ter Horst 1982a:180). The message in Las Meninas, however, is a generalized one; there is
nothing to indicate that the painter was referring to his
ennoblement specifically.21 Above Velazquez is the painting of Arachne and
Pallas, Pallas (Minerva) being the goddess of painting (Carducho 1633: 52r). According to the
Metamorphoses (6, 5-145), Arachne, having gained fame as a weaver, boasted that her talent surpassed even that of Pallas, who had taught mortals the art.22 Arachne refused to submit to Pallas, and challenged her to a contest. Each wove tapestries representing her own point of view. Pallas depicted in the center of her
work the gods of Olympus around Jupiter on his
throne. In the corners she represented the punishment of mortals who had dared to defy the gods. Arachne
portrayed the misdeeds of the gods with mortal women: the follies of Jupiter, Neptune, Apollo, and
Bacchus, often in transformed, ungodly guises. "Neither
[Pallas], no, nor even Envy could find a flaw in the
work" (Ovid 1973:133). The goddess was furious, tore
the offensive tapestry to shreds, and beat Arachne over
the head with her shuttle, until the mortal could bear it no longer and hung herself. Pallas, in pity, brought her
back to life and turned her into a spider. The painting represents the moment of the goddess's violent attack
20. His participation in such projects may have begun as early as
the late 1620s, and the acquisition of works for the palace was the
stated mission of his second trip to Italy from 1649 to 1651.
21. Although aware of its later date, it has been difficult for
scholars to be uninfluenced by the presence of the cross of Santiago on Velazquez's chest. It was, of course, an extremely apt addition, but
it was not part of the original painting in 1656, since Velazquez was
not inducted into the order until 1659.
22. Velazquez had a copy of the Metamorphoses (item #563,
"Metamorfoseos en romance," in the inventory of his goods drawn up at his death; S?nchez Cant?n 1925).
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 105
on Arachne. Hanging on the right side is Arachne's
tapestry depicting Jupiter's rape of Europa, in a loose
takeoff from the Titian painting that was also in the
royal collections (and from which a tapestry was
created).
Tolnay saw this fable as representing the triumph of art over craft. The problem with this view is its
assumption that the goddess's art was superior to the mortal's. This was true of Apollo's music, but,
according to Ovid, Pallas was not more skillful than Arachne. The mortal did not lose the contest; she was
punished for disrespect for the gods.23 By depicting them in unflattering contexts, carousing in unseemly fashion and not even in their normal forms, Arachne
was presenting the truth. The truth she chose to
represent, however, infringed on due respect and contrasted in this way with Pallas's "portrait" of the
gods. Within the composition of Las Meninas the
painting of Pallas and Arachne could be interpreted then in terms of contemporary artistic issues, warning of the dangers of unflattering realism when representing important personages. In contrast to the disrespectful
Arachne at the moment of disgrace, Velazquez stands in the foreground in an honored and trusted position
before his patron. Much rewarded throughout a lifetime of service since the painting contest of 1627, he had
very recently risen to the highest office in the palace. The structure of meaning in the painting corresponds to
the pictorial structure that connects the figures of
Velazquez and Nieto to each other and to the two
paintings above them. In addition, the two men are
linked in a triangular arrangement with the viewer-king
standing before them and reflected in the mirror
between them.
The balance of truth and decorum: Velazquez's technique
How did Velazquez avoid the pitfalls of realistic
portraiture? In his Di?logos Carducho expresses the common concern of the time when he warns that the
copying of a head from nature without improvement can result in infringement on the dignity of the sitter.
Carducho's "learned painter" corrects and emends nature with reason and educated habits of mind
(1633:52r, 54r). That Velazquez was attempting to
Figure 5. Diego Velazquez, Mother Jer?nima de la Fuente
(detail), 1620. Oil on canvas, 160 x 110 cm. Museo del
Prado, Madrid. Photo: Courtesy of Museo del Prado.
strike a balance between truth and the demands of
decorum becomes evident when several precourt
portraits and different versions of early royal portrayals are compared. In his earliest dated portrait, two close
versions of Mother Jer?nima de la Fuente (1620),
Velazquez detailed the lines of age on the face and the
prominent veins on the hands of the sitter (fig. 5).24 This treatment, also evident in the depiction of older
subjects in his precourt religious and genre paintings, was not repeated in later portraits. Already in the Luis
23. Brewer comments that the ending of the Arachne story is
surprising in that Arachne's work was allowed to be good, and Pallas
had to resort to violence (1941, 2:3 and 11). Brown notes the same
(1978:104, note 51).
24. The other version is in the Fern?ndez Araoz Collection, Madrid. These and the portrait of Crist?bal Su?rez de Ribera (Seville, Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes), also of 1620, are Velazquez's earliest dated portraits. The early Man with Ruff Collar, also from
before 1623, probably does not predate this group (Brown
1986:29-34).
106 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 6. Diego Velazquez, Luis de G?ngora, 1622. Oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm. Marie Antoinette Evans Fund, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Photo: Courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 107
de G?ngora of 1622 (fig. 6) there is less emphasis on
lines and more on the reflection of light from the
planes of the face in a less focused treatment
(contrasting with the sharp edges of the collar).
Interesting also is the radiograph of the portrait, which
reveals that at first Velazquez crowned the poet with a
laurel wreath (L?pez-Rey 1968:39, pi. 40).
Subsequently, he painted over the wreath, preferring to
convey the sitter's distinction through his
characterization rather than artifice.
Experimentation with another type of artifice,
idealization, is found in his portrayals of the king. The
radiograph of the full-length standing portrait of Philip of about 1626-28 (Prado) shows a different painting beneath, which is thought to be the first image of the
king created by Velazquez in 1623 (L?pez-Rey 1968:43-44, pi. 49). Brown has argued convincingly that the face of this earlier, hidden image was an
idealized one that Velazquez subsequently covered
with a more realistic visage. The earlier version,
fortunately, is still visible in three other paintings, two
possibly by Velazquez, the third a copy (Brown
1986:44-47). Illustrated here to show the change are
two bust-length portraits. In one, thought by Brown to
be a study on which the hidden full-length portrait was
based, the jaw is shortened and the full lower lip is
minimized (fig. 7). The other, which is very similar to
the repainted image now visible in the full-length
portrait, shows a lengthier jaw and fuller lip (fig. 8).
Clearly Velazquez was trying to create an appropriate
image of the king, but in the end he rejected the
modified features that compromised likeness.
Studying the brushwork of artists like El Greco and
Titian, he continued, however, to explore his new
approach to the painted surface and accompanying ideas about the nature of resemblance. Having started
with a style emphasizing close-up surface detail, by the
1630s Velazquez had developed a variety of strokes to
give the impression of differences in distance, focus,
light, and movement. Most revolutionary among these were the thin washes that created hazy, blurred images without sharp outlines and the loose, separated manchas or borrones (spots, blotches) that produced a
surface in which the "details" are dabs of paint rather
than the incidentals of appearance (see especially McKim-Smith et al. 1988:chap. 1).25 In portraits
Velazquez used the thinner paints and soft focus for the
face?with occasional sharper focus in the eyes or hair
(fig. 9)?and borrones for decorated garments and the
more elaborate hairdos of women. This manner of
painting requires viewing from a distance, as the image makes sense only when the spectator backs away from
the canvas. Gridley McKim-Smith and coauthors have
emphasized that the viewing distance thus established
was a clich? in contemporary literature (1988:15-17). Of Velazquez's painting specifically, Palomino says, "from close up it cannot be understood . . . from a
distance it is a miracle" (1947:905). Another passage in Palomino makes the connection
between this technique of distancing the image from
the viewer and the problem of portraying faults in
realistic portraiture. After advising the artist to good use
of light and portrayal of the subject when he looks his
best, he further suggests in the case of sovereigns,
in the face some things may be moderated which do not favor the subject, like wrinkling, thinness, or bad color . . .
this on the whole cannot prejudice the likeness, because when a subject is viewed at some distance, where only the general pattern (mancha) of light and shadow can be seen and the other little details are lost, it is not due to
[these] that the subject is recognizable. From this it is inferred with certainty that contour and general pattern of
light and shadow are the fundamental principle of the likeness and that the rest are accidents and corroborations
which lend little to the substance of the intent. Palomino 1947530-53126
Earlier Pacheco had made a similar distinction between the accidents of appearance and the essence,
which can be depicted with "simple lines" (1956, 2:212-213). In portraiture, he says, only a bad artist
needs to exaggerate notable defects to make a likeness
recognizable (1956, 2:152). In Darlo todo Apelles expresses the same idea, that it is easier to create a
likeness when the sitter has a defect (Calder?n
1959:1250). In Las Meninas the variety of techniques through
which Velazquez achieved resemblance is evident
25. Notice Calder?n's use in the scene quoted above of the words
mancha and borr?n for the fault on Alexander's face, a purposeful
twist, since these were the terms for the brushstrokes with which
Velazquez obscured such faults.
26. This passage follows Palomino's restatement of the conflict of
truth and decorum in portraiture, where he, like many before him, invokes the example of Apelles. His solution of a path midway
between effrontery and flattery echoes Calder?n, even in the wording: "in this the discretion of the artist has to do much, trying to imitate
what Apelles did in the portrait of King Antigonos . . . placing him
almost in half profile, with which discretion he was freed from
slipping into one of the two dangers of effrontery (atrevido) or of
flattery (lisonjero)" (1947:530).
108 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 7. Diego Velazquez, Philip IV, ca. 1623. Oil on canvas, 62 x 48 cm. Algur H. Meadows Collection, Meadows Museum, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas. Photo: Courtesy of Meadows Museum.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 109
Figure 8. Diego Velazquez, Philip IV in Armor, ca. 1626. Oil on canvas, 57 x 44 cm. Museo del Prado. Photo: Courtesy of
Museo del Prado.
throughout. His economy of means is demonstrated
particularly in the distant image of Nieto, as Palomino
himself remarked (1947:921), and the mirror reflection
of the king and queen (fig. 10). These visages, although
vague and composed of thin washes, are still
completely recognizable; the patterns of light and
shadow reveal distinctive face shapes. Pacheco,
Palomino, and Calder?n, therefore, must have been
verbalizing Velazquez's revolutionary solutions.
Although Calder?n does not explain Apelles' answer in
the same vein, the casting of a shadow over the fault
would have had the effect of putting it in an area of
reduced focus.
Addressing a king prudently
The linking of Las Meninas to Darlo todo also opens the discussion to a complex of notions about this
aspect of his naturalism. But how are we to understand
the seemingly unflattering psychological reality of
Velazquez's contemporary portraits of the king? Some
of the artistic issues addressed by Calder?n have been
analyzed by the literary historian Robert Ter Horst
(1982a; 1982b), but no one has yet related them to
Velazquez's portrayals. The following by J. H. Elliott
represents current thought on the painter's bust-length
portrait of Philip of about the same date as Las
Meninas (fig. 9):
At first glance it would seem that Velazquez had stripped away all the majesty of kingship to reveal the pathetic
figure behind the mask?a weak, defeated and disillusioned man. But this is to ignore the Spanish tradition of royal portraiture to which Velazquez faithfully adhered. . . . The very austerity and simplicity of the king's ?mage in Spanish painting was itself an indication of his
overwhelming majesty. It may well be that Velazquez, as a
supremely great artist, could not but reveal the human frailties of the king he served.
Elliott 1989:267-268
I do not question the observations about the simplicity of presentation (see also Brown 1988), nor that
Velazquez came close to exposing Philip's inner life. I
do see as off course, however, Elliott's characterization
of the king's state of mind as depicted as something that Velazquez "could not but reveal": Calder?n would
have explained it differently. In Darlo todo the king's outward physical fault is not
just a matter of accident; it reflects (or, more accurately in this case, symbolizes) an inner character flaw, which
he must, and does, conquer by the end of the play (Ter Horst 1982a:182-183). Alexander's flaw is his passion for the beautiful Campaspe, whom he relinquishes
finally to Apelles. The theme here is the necessity for a
king to control his inner self before he can control his
kingdom (Ter Horst 1982a:part 3), and the artist's
function in portraying the king is that of a counselor.
For Calder?n the greatest achievement of painting was
the representation of the soul, in particular, the
suffering soul (Ter Horst 1982b). Through the revealing
portrait the artist "speaks" to and "advises" the subject,
pointing out essential problems, but not in an insulting or blunt manner.
Philip's sins were his pursuit of pleasure, and, like
Alexander, the sexual promiscuity of his young adulthood suring the 1620s and 1630s. In keeping with
current thought he viewed the political disasters of his
later reign and the losses to death of his first wife, two
siblings, and heir Baltasar Carlos in the 1640s as God's
punishment for these sins (Elliott 1977:47; Greer
1991:89-90; Seco Serrano 1958, 4:lx-lxiii, 13, 19-20,
110 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
Figure 9. Diego Velazquez, Philip IV, before 1655. Oil on canvas, 62 x 48 cm. Museo del Prado, Madrid. Photo:
Courtesy of Museo del Prado.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 111
64, 81, 84, 85). Velazquez's late portrayal of Philip then must be considered as the artist's prudent revelation of the soul. It is a portrait of a man whose
contrition, suffering, and struggle with his inner self
have marked his exterior appearance. It is consistent
with the mental state apparent in Philip's
correpondence with his spiritual advisor, Sor Mar?a de
Agreda (Seco Serrano 1958) and it represents the kingly virtue of self-conquest, or at least the struggle for
self-control.
Velazquez's physically and psychologically realistic
portrayals were not a matter of an individual artistic
agenda. They were the visual manifestations of
contemporary currents of thought shared by the king and explicated philosophically by Calder?n. Philip must have approved of the artist's early rejection of an
idealized image, and, as Brown points out, later he
ordered paintings of himself and others in the palace to
be inspected and repainted, if necessary, with more like
visages. As time passed, he did not expect the artist to
ameliorate the effects of age but rather eschewed
representation (Brown 1988:147-148). As for the verbal
revelation of faults, there is some evidence in his
correspondence that Philip wanted his ministers to
speak directly to him, even when they were critical; at
least he echoed this commonly voiced ?deal of Spanish
political thought.27 The trope of the king who must rule his passions is
found in other plays by Calder?n and his Spanish
predecessors (Ter Horst 1982a:173ff.). It is inherent in
Pliny's original story in which Alexander's gift of his
mistress to the artist is interpreted as a demonstration of
self-conquest comparable to a victory in battle
(1968:125). Nevertheless, the fact that the king's character flaw in Darlo todo is uncontrolled passion would not have been interpreted as a matter of
generalized allegory by its palace audience. Philip himself had to have taken the lesson personally when
his particular weakness was presented in a play that, in
other ways, referred more specifically to his court.
Margaret Rich Greer characterizes the nature of such
references and their comprehensibility to the audience:
[Calder?n's late plays] do not offer simplistic allegory in which a mythic figure personifies a single vice or virtue
Figure 10. Close-up of mirror reflections of Philip IV and
Mariana in Las Meninas. Photo: Courtesy of Museo del Prado.
and points at a particular figure in the court. Rather ... he
constructs actions that have a general fidelity to human nature and inserts clues that would tactfully steer a court
audience towards certain political readings.
Greer 1991:102
Presumably Calder?n was addressing Philip with the
proper subtlety required in all his counselors; at least, that is what he avows in the play itself. The contest
scene is like a painting-within-a-painting in that Apelles offers to Alexander (with trepidation) a painted message about the same problem that Calder?n is presenting to
Philip in a verbal portrait of kingship. In the end,
nevertheless, Darlo todo can be seen as flattering and
encouraging to Philip in its depiction of Alexander as a
king who was a perceptive judge of art, wanted truth
from his counselors, conquered his human faults (that
is, his passion), and became a great ruler. The latter, of
course, was Philip's desired goal, although by this date
its attainment was seemingly beyond hope. Performed
27. See two letters of 1626 between Philip and his minister, the
Count-Duke of Olivares, as quoted in Saxl (1957:312-313; also Greer
1991:79), and also his correspondence with Sor Mar?a de Agreda
(Seco Serrano 1958). The offering of such criticism was seen as
desirable and even a matter of loyalty, but it was also a very delicate
affair (Greer 1991:79-82).
112 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
perhaps twice on occasions celebrating Queen Mariana
(Reichenberger 1979:203), Darlo todo, like Velazquez's
portrait, probably constituted more an acknowledgment of Philip's contrition and new self-control after his
remarriage in 1649 than an admonition. Presumably by this date, he was no longer indulging in extramarital
liaisons. As for Mariana's perception of the play, she
could have taken comfort in the final scene wherein
Alexander gives up Campaspe and takes a royal bride, the beautiful captive princess, Estatira?his fianc?,
Queen Rojana of Cyprus, having died at sea during the
action of the play. Estatira and Rojana could have
represented, respectively, Mariana and Isabel of
Bourbon, her defunct predecessor as Queen of Spain. If we accept Darlo todo as containing a veiled
reference to Philip's sexual incontinence, we must
acknowledge allusions to the same, but with much
greater subtlety, in the imagery of Las Meninas,
specifically in the mythological painting above
Velazquez's head. Greer has argued convincingly that
in Las fortunas de Andr?meda y Perseo (1653) Calder?n was referring to Philip and his illegitimate son
Don Juan Jos? de Austria (1629-1679) through the
persons of Jupiter and Perseus, his illicit son by Dan?e
(1991:96-101). In the Rubens composition Arachne's
tapestry depicts another incident in which Jupiter strays from his proper mate, Juno, and seduces a mortal
woman, Europa. In contrast Velazquez's invisible
canvas, revealed by the mirror as constituting yet another painting-within-a-painting, depicts Philip, the
Spanish Jupiter, as a faithful husband with his queen.28
Previously, the question asked was whether such a
double portrait ever existed (for example, Moffitt
1980:286-287). The question posed here is why
Velazquez is representing the painting of such a
portrait. Like van Eyck in the Arnolfini Portrait, that
other remarkable composition that influenced
Velazquez in the use of the mirror (fig. 11), the artist
appears to witness the union of Philip and Mariana, but
in a reversed composition, with himself inside and the
couple outside the painting (Seidel 1993:194-198).
And, like Apelles in Darlo todo, he is creating a
visually truthful, yet respectful, portrait of the king.
The suggestion of a purposeful juxtaposition of the
double portrait with the tapestry helps explain Mariana's presence beside the king as well as that of
Margarita, the focal point of the foreground group.29
Margarita was Philip and Mariana's only living child in
1656 and proof of their union. The focus on their
legitimate royal offspring within a room that was still
associated with the dead heir to the throne (Palomino
1947:921) had to have had additional resonances for
members of the court at a time when Don Juan, the
illegitimate son recognized by the king in 1642, was
rising to political power (see Orso 1989:77ff., on the
dilemma of royal succession in these years). Don Juan was the source of much pain to Mariana?as he had
been to Isabel of Bourbon?and as an adult in the
1650s he was a challenger to the rights of Philip's
younger, female, and less able legitimate children (in addition to Margarita, his daughter Maria Teresa
survived from his first marriage). Later, he remained a
threat to the government of the mentally retarded
Charles II, who, born in 1661, came to the throne in
1665 under the regency of Mariana. Calder?n
continued to comment through mythological allegory on Don Juan's political presence vis-?-vis Philip,
Charles, and Mariana (Greer 1991 :chaps. 4 and 5, and
elsewhere). Who among the first viewers of Las Meninas might
have recognized these implications, or read them into
its imagery? Although the obscurity of the paintings makes the meaning?even the intention of meaning? difficult to detect, some inhabitants of the palace would have known which canvases hanging on the
wall were depicted in Las Meninas (and they would
have had to know the originals to see meaning in them as the details are not legible). For the less acute
observer, they might have represented simply the
punishments of the disrespectful artist and the poor
judge of art. Yet others might have understood the
tapestry in the Arachne painting as a reference to
Philip's sins. Calder?n, of course, would have seen
both personal and artistic implications. In addition to
the congruence of his and Velazquez's theoretical ideas
and the reference to an incident from the painter's life
in Darlo todo, Calder?n used a painting-within-a-play in El pintor de su deshonra (The painter of his
dishonor; 1640s), in which the artist-protagonist 28. Given the seventeenth-century link between the moral and the
political, a further level of meaning is possible here, with Europa
representing the territory over which Spain for many years had
attempted to extend domain to the neglect of the domestic scene
(and, of course, with diminishing success in Philip's time). Europa
riding the bull represents Europe in an allegorical portrait of Philip IV
engraved at the time of his death (Orso 1989:115, pi. 9).
29. See also Volk (1978) and Vahlne (1982) for interpretations of
the painting emphasizing the presence of the Queen and members of
her household.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 113
Figure 11. Jan van Eyck, Arnolfini Portrait, 1434. Oil on panel, 81.8 x 59.7 cm. The National Gallery, London. Photo: Courtesy of the Trustees, The National Gallery, London.
114 RES 28 AUTUMN 1995
pictured events from Hercules' life paralleling the plot of the play and foretelling his own death (Calder?n
1991:173-175). I have argued above for the meaningful presence of
a series of paintings-within-the-painting in the
composition of Las Meninas: the two mythological
pictures, the Arachne tapestry in one of these, the
mirror, and the invisible canvas that it reveals. I now
suggest the artist's use of another artifice as a verbal
key to the meaning of his composition?an emblem in
the form of the dog, who lies in the foreground even
closer to the viewer than Margarita (and perhaps
adopted also from van Eyck's painting). As in the
theater where such animal emblems were displayed on
the proscenium and curtains (Greer 1991:86, 158-159), the dog marks the entrance to Velazquez's "stage." If
his presence, like the dog in the Arnolfini Portrait, was
meant to evoke the word fidelity?more explicitly in
this context, the concept of faithful painting?it would
encapsulate several meanings of the word and the
suggested messages of the imagery in a play.30 Two
decades earlier Carducho had called naturalistic
painting 'fiel imitadora . . . de lo natural"(the faithful
imitator of nature) (1633:56r), without meaning to
flatter its practitioners. Velazquez turns the value of this
concept around and depicts his own version of "faithful
painting" as resolving the dilemma of the naturalistic
artist: like the mirror, it is faithful to the truth, and, unlike Arachne's tapestry, it is faithful to the depicted
patron. Velazquez's portrayals, although realistic
instruments of self-knowledge,31 were not blunt or
insulting: his characterizations have dignity, his
brushstrokes minimize physical faults, and he includes
the trappings appropriate to Habsburg rulership (see Brown 1988). Fidelity, of course, would also define
Philip's faithfulness to his wife and his friendship for
and support of his pintor de c?mara.
Such verbal plays were characteristic not only of the
contemporary poetry and dramas of writers like
G?ngora and Calder?n but also of Velazquez's conversation (Umberger 1993:25). I have proposed a
similar visual witticism in the figure of Bacchus in Los
Borrachos, wherein the naturalistic model in a
Michelangelesque pose should have called to the
minds of the palace artists who were its first audience
the words on "Michelangelo" and "Anti-Michelangelo," the latter being the epithet used by Carducho for the
hated Michelangelo da Caravaggio (Umberger 1993:27, 31-35). In the case of Las Meninas we must decide
whether we can accept the use of an emblem in our
conception of Velazquez's naturalism. I believe that we
can. Although Velazquez effaced the obvious artifices
in his early portraits, more natural appearing devices, even emblems, are not totally lacking in other
paintings. He included an allegorical figure in the form
of a sculpture in his first important historical
composition, the Expulsion of the Moriscos (1627,
destroyed in 1734; Palomino 1947:898-899), and a
reclining lion in the background of a late portrait of
Philip (Brown, 1986:fig. 269).32
Provisional conclusions
Svetlana Alpers sees Las Meninas as, on some level,
expressing through its composition contemporary structures of thought.33 She characterizes the painting as conflating two modes of viewing, which she calls
southern (Italian or Albertian) and northern
(Netherlandish or descriptive). I believe that the general notion is correct but would be more accurate reframed
in the terms of contemporary, Italian-derived Spanish theoretical discourse.34 What Alpers calls southern and
northern modes are both found in Spanish thought, subsumed, respectively, within the contrasting concepts of dibujo (drawing) and colorido (coloring), disegno and colore in Italian (see Carducho 1633:passim;
McKim-Smith et al. 1988:15-33). Dibujo was
associated with a variety of linked ideas: perspective,
learning, science, drawing, constructed compositions,
30. In van Eyck's painting the dog represents marital fidelity
(Panofsky 1971; Seidel 1993:124). Pacheco repeated Karel van
Mander's description of the portrait, which states that the couple is
joined by faith (1956, 1:64). He does not connect this with the
painting then in the royal collections, but Velazquez would have.
Velazquez did not, however, need a description to see the symbolic function of the dog.
31. The characterization of paintings as like mirrors/realtiy was rife
in the seventeenth century. See, for instance, a poem by Quevedo of
about 1629 (Varia velazque?a 1960, 2:19-22); or Valdivielso's poem
about his portrait by Juan van der Hamen y Le?n (in Carducho
1633:183r). The idea of mirrors as "instruments of self-knowledge" is
found in Calder?n; they cure bestiality and help characters regain human form (Greer 1991:92). See also Emmens's interesting discussion of the mirror in Las Meninas in relation to the concept of
the "mirror of princes" (1961:60ff.); and Kahr (1975:243).
32. The latter is actually a workshop product, but presumably was
based on Velazquez's conception. 33. In this she follows Foucault (1973:3-16, 307-308, 312),
although she differs in the structures she believes it reflects.
34. I disagree, however, with Alpers's corollary idea that the
artist's place in this scheme is both inside and outside the painting.
Umberger: Velazquez and naturalism II 115
study of visual precedents, use of literary figures and
emblems, the idea, the ideal, the intellectual, and, in
Carducho's treatise, the pintor interior, as represented
by Michelangelo. It thus comprised the learned
techniques by which the artist created appropriate and
decorous images in portraiture. Colorido encompassed
surface, color, decoration, brushstroke, imitation, truth,
fidelity, nature, the natural, and Carducho's pintor exterior, as represented by Caravaggio. It therefore
comprised the naturalistic aspects that might infringe on decorum. In addition to alluding to the solution to
the specific problems of portraiture in the mirror image and the Arachne painting in Las Meninas, Velazquez resolved the conflicts between these two modes in his
general composition and manner of painting: in other
words, his is both naturalistic painting (fiel) and
learned painting (docta). This resolution through conflation also translates into
the terms of seventeenth-century categories of painting. A monumental composition, Las Meninas depicts a
casual but highly calculated arrangement of real
people, and thereby raises (naturalistic) portraiture and
genre painting to the level of (learned) history
painting.35 Naturalistic portraiture and genre painting, the categories in which the young Velazquez had
excelled, were denigrated by Carducho and the other
Italianate artists who dominated the court when he
arrived in 1623.
Although long dead by 1656, the theories and
concerns of these men, as well as their hostility, made a lasting impression on Velazquez and provided the
impetus for his own theoretical thought. If Los
Borrachos was a humorous reaction to their rigid and
doctrinaire views painted soon after the contest of
1627, Las Meninas is a more distant and serious
response.
The issue of the status of painters that other scholars
emphasize in their readings of Las Meninas was very real in the mid-seventeenth century: arguments in favor
of painting as a liberal art form the basic structure and
primary function of many of the theoretical treatises of
the time (see Volk 1978). This must have been an
important issue for Velazquez too, and in every respect Las Meninas supports the highest claims for the art of
painting, as was recognized in its time (Palomino
1947:922). The issue of liberal arts status, however, is
not referred to in the composition's allegorical
allusions; nor is Velazquez's specific ambition for
knighthood. Addressed instead are the problems of
naturalistic representation and the role of the learned
artist. Having a strong base in contemporary literature, this alternate interpretation has the advantage of
relating closely to Velazquez's own great painterly
innovations, as demonstrated fully in Las Meninas
itself. It also does more justice to Velazquez's intellect,
and, at the same time, sees him as a man of his era, whose commitment to realistic portrayal and a related
body of philosophical ideas was comprehensible to his
contemporaries and shared by the equally brilliant
playwright Pedro Calder?n de la Barca, as well as, to a
certain extent, the king himself.
35. See Moffitt on how Las Meninas fulfills Alberti's prescriptions for history painting (1980:290-293).
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