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Referencias al matrimonio morganatico en algunas de las versiones pictoricas de Matrimonio de Don Martin de Loyola con Nusta Beatriz Clara Coya.

References to Morganatic Marriage in some of the Pictorial Versions of The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta

Sumario. Introduction. 1. Interpretative approaches. 2. Indigenous interests at stake in 18th century Peru. 3. A comparative formal analysis. 4. Perpetuating and transforming the foundational images of colonial society.


It is tempting to believe Carlos Vega's assertion that in Spanish Colonial America the Spanish man mixed with the Indian woman because he felt in love with her and because he wanted her (2). As it is also tempting to see, as the author does, an example of that sincere love in the union between the Spanish conqueror and Royal Governor of the General Captaincy of Chile Captain Martin Garcia Onez de Loyola (1549-1598) and the Nusta, or Inca princess, Beatriz Clara Coya (1556-1600), protagonists of a historical event that motivated a celebrated series of anonymous paintings that will be the object of the present study. Many famous and anonymous mixed couples, such as Hernan Cortes and Marina, may truly have loved and wanted each other, as Carlos Vega contends in his book. It seems, however, that Garcia Onez de Loyola did not feel the same natural and disinterested love for his Indian partner, judging, at least, from the way in which he expressed himself when Francisco de Toledo (1515-1582), fifth Viceroy of Peru, who recorded Martin's words in a letter to the King of Spain, literally offered him Beatriz in matrimony: Garcia de Loyola, "it went without saying," would marry the Inca princess "despite being Indian and of such bearing, understanding that, this way, he had served to his Majesty and to me in his royal name ... so for his cause there was neither pretention nor uneasiness." (3) And he agreed to marry her --it goes without saying--because she was a noble and wealthy woman and the legitimate heiress to the Inca throne. Garcia de Loyola had captured her uncle and predecessor, the insurgent Tupac Amaru I (1545-1572), in the summer of 1572. Tupac Amaru I was sentenced to die on the gallows and, following Viceroy Toledo's orders, his son and several of his relatives were banished to Mexico and elsewhere, in order to prevent the resurgence of the empire and erase any trace of his lineage. After her father's death, Beatriz Clara Coya had been raised in the convent of Santa Clara in Cuzco. When she turned fifteen, she was asked if she wished to take vows or to get married. She chose to get married and, after Tupac Amaru's capture, Viceroy Toledo offered her hand to the victorious Garcia de Loyola. Unfortunately, her initial feelings for his Spanish partner are unknown to us. Her words were not only left unrecorded, but most probably silenced, and her figure has remained practically invisible, despite her social, political, and historical significance. However, it is plausible to conjecture that the idea of marrying the man who had captured her uncle--and who asked for license to put a representation of his head on his coat of arms- and the guarantor of her lineage did not appeal to her. The couple, nevertheless, remained together until Martin's death, in 1598. Beatriz died only two years later, in 1600.

Did they love each other, in spite of the forced and artificial nature of their union? That is not known. Their story in common has not filled pages of literature and scholarship on the conquest and colonization of the Americas, and it will not be the focus of this study. However, it is important to stress that their initial encounter, the moment in which they consented to receive each other in sacred matrimony, became, a hundred years later, the subject of a series of paintings, markedly figurative, that due to this very characteristic not only reflected, but actively embodied the ideologies, aspirations, tensions, constrictions, failures and achievements of those colonial actors that inspired them, commissioned them, looked at them, and made meaning out of them.

Those paintings, all depictions of their marriage, have preoccupied several scholars, particularly in the last three decades (4). Increasingly, their interpretation has become more comprehensive. However, they are still considered some of the most misunderstood works in the history of Viceregal Peru. This study aims to contribute to counteract that circumstance, by turning to Beatriz, the bride, and providing a new interpretation that reflects on how her depiction as a spouse, and the representation of other formal characteristics, differ between the versions in the series, as a result of distinct dates of creation and contexts of display. It presents a much-needed comparative formal analysis of three versions in the series that are dated circa 1675-1720 and of a fourth one that is dated around 1750. These paintings, however, are only four out of at least nine known to once have existed. Wealthy curacas or indigenous leaders also commissioned paintings--unknown or not yet identified with precision- depicting the marriage, and displayed them at their houses (5). Thus, the number indicated above could have been significantly superior, making any definitive or conclusive interpretation of the paintings as a whole virtually impossible.

As Thomas Cummins has said, in colonial Peru "paintings and sculptures formed the visual locus onto which were projected the cultural, religious, and political meanings already embedded in its cities and their buildings." (6) For Carolyn Dean, those paintings and sculptures might have functioned as "battlefields," identified by Spaniards and Native Andeans "as potentially powerful advocates ... capable of conveying, solidifying, or advancing partisan positions in an evolving society." (7) The four paintings that are the subject of this study acted as the visual locus, the combat zones and the "argumentative weapons" (8) used by the Spaniards and their allies, and by those sectors of the indigenous population that defended antagonistic ideals and attitudes, in their confrontations. By exploring those fields it may be possible to discern which faction prevailed and which one failed in defending its respective ideas, positions, and aspirations, and what motivated the conflicts, as well as their aftermaths. Departing from previous readings of the paintings, we contend that those who advanced in their positions by commissioning and displaying them were not always the same; that it is possible to talk of negotiation, of tension in the paintings, but also of flagrant cession; and that a closer look at the canvases, an attentive study of their visual language--clear and even univocal to a certain extent- may have the key to not misunderstand this extraordinary set of historical, artistic, and sociological texts.

1. Interpretative approaches

Previous studies on the series start by, or mainly concentrate on, describing the canvas that is located in the Jesuit church of La Compania in Cuzco (Fig. 1), since it is the oldest known painting in the series, likewise remarkable for its technical and compositional quality, and it is implicitly argued that this specific painting established the iconography for the other three canvases (Fig. 2, Fig. 3, and Fig. 4).

Significantly, while earlier scholarship refers to each painting with the term version (9), more recent studies use the term copy (10) and even exact replica (11) when alluding specifically to those paintings that were made after the one conceived for the Church of La Compania in Cuzco was created. We are inclined to use the term version, since each canvas was intended to be not a copy of the first one, but a version, and an invention, of the historical event, hence their distinguishable formal characteristics. Assessing and comparing those characteristics may be useful to more clearly understand not only the apparent meaning of the canvases, but also the historical, religious, and socio-cultural conditions and implications to which that meaning is inevitably attached. But what is the apparent meaning implicit in these four paintings? What do they aim to directly convey, and why? Certainly they can be considered the quintessential visual expression of cultural miscegenation (12), of the harmonic union between a Spaniard and an Indian, in Cuzco, to the left, and of their daughter and a Spaniard, in Madrid, in the background to the right (13). This other ceremony had taken place years later, but it was anachronistically inserted in the painting in order to heighten its visual and symbolic effect, and probably also due to compositional reasons--the use of anachronisms was in fact common in paintings from the Cuzco School, as a reminiscence of Flemish Gothic painting (14). Nevertheless, the former Spaniard, depicted at the far left of the canvas, holding a staff and a hat in his hand, was a relative of Saint Ignatius Loyola (1491-1556), the founder of the Society of Jesus; the Indian woman, the figure to his left, was the heiress to the deposed Inca royal house; the mestiza, the second figure at the far right, who holds a handkerchief in her hand in three of the four versions, was the offspring of their union, inheritor of their wealth, titles, and status; and the latter Spaniard, the figure to her right, was the great-grandson of the Spanish Jesuit and third Superior General of the Society of Jesus Saint Francis Borgia (1510-1572). Thus, that visual expression of exemplary interracial encounter turns into the visual expression and commemoration of two strategic alliances of extraordinary socio-political and religious implications. The canvases, monumental in size, were primarily conceived to be prominently displayed in Jesuit temples and schools, but also in a Franciscan beaterio--a religious institution for the seclusion and education of noble indigenous women- and to function primarily as didactic and propagandistic texts (in the practical absence of literary works describing the marriages and their repercussions) (15), aimed to openly disseminate the idea of a blood alliance between the houses of Borgia and Loyola and, most significantly, between those dynasties and the Indian nation. Nonetheless, the implicit message behind these representations was not the anticipation of a possible return of the Incas to the throne of their ancestors, as some authors have contended (16), but precisely the neutralization and negation of that possibility, as Francisco Stastny suggested (17). More specifically, only the later version might have certainly foreseen that return--although to a throne that still would have to be shared with the Spaniards- and only that one seems to be truly recognizing the nobility and antiquity of the Inca descendants, judging by its iconography. The other three canvases clearly make "Inca genealogy conclude in a glorious apotheosis of the Jesuit Order," (18) and, far from conciliating, even if ambiguously, as some scholars contend, they directly distort the indigenous cause. By extension, those canvases could be also distorting the mestizo cause, since they may be representing not the marriage of the mestiza Ana Maria (1593-1630), Martin and Beatriz's daughter, but that of the Spaniards Lorenza de Onaz y Loyola (d. 1575) and Juan de Borja (1533-1606), as it has been suggested. Ana Maria, who had lived in Spain since she was eight years old, did not return to Peru until 1615. Her husband travelled with her on that special occasion. However, and as Marie Timberlake recounts, the presence in Peru of Ana Maria and her husband, the Marquis and Marchioness of Santiago de Oropesa, especially near the city of Cuzco, caused such a dismay among the Spanish authorities that Viceroy Francisco de Borja y Aragon (1581-1658), the marquis's first cousin, wrote a letter to King Philip III of Spain recommending the imminent return of the couple to Spain and the prohibition to ever accept them again in Peru. The king rejected this solution, but Ana Maria and her husband eventually returned to Spain in 1627 (19). Therefore, if the real Ana Maria had not been welcomed in Peru, if her presence was considered threatening for the stability and security of the Viceroyalty (not for being a mestiza, but a very special one, heiress to the Inca throne), would have her monumental portrait been accepted only a few decades later, in a period where some sectors of the mestizo population--intellectuals, students, part of the clergy--became allies with the Indians and when the orthodox Manuel de Mollinedo (1640-1699), Bishop of Cuzco, was prohibiting any attempt aimed at the indigenization of the Catholic cult? The first canvas was displayed in the Jesuit church in Cuzco, located only a few steps away from the Cathedral. If Ana Maria is the one depicted in it, and in the other early canvases, as several authors contend, her indigenous background is completely erased, an aspect that rarely has been taken into further consideration. Representing a prominent mestiza in a large and highly visible canvas in colonial Peru in the second half of the seventeenth century would have been a bold act, since at that time the Spanish authorities were trying to suppress the pretensions of the indigenous elite. Therefore, she was depicted as a Spaniard, or altogether suppressed by the likeness of another person. The fourth and last canvas, made years later and for another location, does, however, recognize the mestizo background. In subsequent pages we will suggest a hypothesis that could explain this change.

Nevertheless, treating the canvases as copies, some scholars have argued that Indians and Spaniards are distributed in them in a uniform and equilibrated way, and that, as a result, an atmosphere of calm, mutual respect, and idealised equality prevails. Others have stated that by "looking directly at the spectator"--and this only happens in two of the canvases that have been located to this day- "Beatriz and Don Martin foster the illusion that this merging of Inkaic and Spanish/Christian culture is an equal and consensual union." (20) We will contend, however, that other features of the sitters in the earliest pictorial commemorations of their matrimony may be fostering precisely the negation of that illusion, of that idealized equality.

What could have motivated, several decades after the strategic union had taken place, the dissemination of the idea of a blood alliance between the houses of Borgia and Loyola and the Indian nation? Valerie Fraser contended that a possible motivation behind the commission of the painting (the author only refers to the earliest version) could have been the canonization of Saint Francis Borgia in 1671, an event that the Jesuits might have deemed appropriate to demonstrate, on the one hand, their claims to genealogical and spiritual ascendancy in Cuzco, and to legitimize, on the other hand, their control over the indigenous population (21). Marie Timberlake added that the Jesuits might have conceived and commissioned the paintings in order to document "the validity of their claim to power in colonial Cuzco on the basis of divine and genealogical right" in a period where that claim seems to have been questioned by the ecclesiastical authorities, but also to ultimately silence and mitigate the doubts of some members of their Order about the legitimacy of the conquest and about the Jesuits' role in the colonial process, impelled by the warning of the then General Borgia against criticizing the validity of the Spanish domination (22). Hence the symbolic gesture of displaying the earliest known version of this "fabricated mythology," using Timberlake's words, in the recently completed Jesuit Church of La Compania, which had been purposefully built on the Inca site of Amarucancha, "the enclosure of snakes," according to the Jesuits in order to "fulfil the prophecy of Isaiah about the habitation of dragons becoming a place of holiness." (23) The facade of this imposing construction, which was completed in 1668, features a prominent arched entrance, a "crucial visual signifier of Christian architecture," (24) and, therefore, a "metonym of conquest." (25) The painting, then, might have functioned in the same way, that is, as a "visual triumphal signifier" (26) of the control that the Jesuits aimed to exert over the indigenous population, which was legitimized, so the canvas stated, by the direct and natural descent of the former from the noble ancestors of the latter (27).

Within the canvas this idea is also conveyed through the architectural background. A rectilinear, sturdy, and almost monochromatic building, possibly a local construction, located to the left side of the composition, gives way to a Christian building, monumental, sumptuous, and with a prominent arched entrance, which is located to the right side of the canvas. The transition between one type of architecture and the other, between the old and the new, the pagan and the Christian, is made, according to Luis Eduardo Wuffarden, through the inclusion of a fortified tower, perhaps a symbol of the strength of the Spanish Monarchy (Fig. 5). Wuffarden contends that the tower is similar to the one that appears in one of the engravings included in the erudite treatise Idea de un Principe Politico Christiano Representada en Cien Empresas, an emblem book by Spanish author Diego de Saavedra Fajardo that circulated extensively in Spain, Europe, and colonial Latin America following its publication in 1640. Under the motto me combaten y defienden ("I am attacked and they defend me") the engraving in De Saavedra's work was aimed to convey the idea of the strength of the monarchies, which stood firm and safe in warfare as impregnable castles. That the central fortified tower in the painting can be interpreted as a symbol of the strength of the Spanish Monarchy is a plausible hypothesis, particularly since it is framing the likeness of Saint Francis Borgia. The Jesuits played a preponderant role in the Habsburg Monarchy in the course of the seventeenth century.

The only touch of color in the local construction is the cartouche above the door depicting an architectural structure pierced by arrows (Fig. 6), a reference, as Timberlake and other scholars have indicated, to the coat of arms of Cuzco, which King Charles V (1500-1558) granted to that city by royal charter on July 19, 1540.

This, however, is an altered reference, since, in place of the eight condors distributed around a castle or a tower--an allusion to the Inca fortress of Sacsayhuaman, which the Spaniards conquered in May of 1536--that appeared in the original coat of arms, there seem to be arrows impacting the building and a rainbow surrounding it. The rainbow appears to emerge from the mouths of two pumas (which might also be identified as lions) rampant. This symbolic iconography could be conveying the idea that the Jesuits, and by extension the Spanish authorities, had fought against the fortress of the unfaithful Incas and had ultimately succeeded in their enterprise, which, in the end, was the enterprise of the Spanish Monarchy--hence the alternative interpretation of the two animals as lions. A different reading of this visually altered reference to the original coat of arms may identify Inca attributes, such as the mascapaychas, the red tassels that hang from the centre of the rainbow and from the center of the cornice, in the upper part of the tower, as well as Inca weapons, spears with feathers and halberds specifically, projecting from the building. These same attributes are present in the coat of arms of Cuzco that decorates the facade of the former Chapel of Saint Ignatius, adjacent to the Church of La Compania in Cuzco, as Luis Ramos Gomez has noticed (28). A rainbow and a pair of pumas are also present in the coat of arms that decorates a lintel in the former Jesuit School of Caciques of San Borja, also located in Cuzco. This alternative reading, however, keeps suggesting that those Inca elements were chosen neither to restore nor to share Inca values or socio-political systems, but to stress the splendour of colonial Cuzco, which rested, among others, in the glory of its pre-Hispanic past. This could be further confirmed by the way in which the fortress of Sacsayhuaman was depicted in this altered version of the coat of arms of Cuzco. In spite of its reduced size, it can be observed that whereas the lower body of this tower resembles an Inca construction, with characteristic leaning walls and a trapezoidal door, its upper body features a dome, a clearly western architectural element, as Ramos Gomez has also noticed (29). For this scholar, this may have been the result of an inaccuracy. The artist did not properly understand the motif that he had to paint--possibly a second body, also Inca in design, crowned by an Inca helmet, similar to the one that appears in the above mentioned coat of arms that decorates the lintel in the former Jesuit School of Caciques of San Borja. Ramos Gomez also suggests that since the tower is in any case difficult to discern, due to its location in the canvas, it could have been depicted in this fashion deliberately, in order to partially conceal, or to secretly reveal, its Inca motifs (30). Whether the motif was a dome or an Inca helmet, we contend that, in this specific painting, both were aimed to reinforce the idea that pre-Hispanic Cuzco had indeed laid the foundation, but therefore was underneath, its colonial successor. The size and the location of the cartouche responded solely, we believe, to compositional requirements. While for some scholars this altered coat of arms is the only trace in the painting of the violence implicit in the union between Martin and Beatriz, of the "coercion that was just under the surface," (31) it will be shown that there are other traces that make that violence present.

Finally, the most important triumphal visual signifier, which appears in the four paintings that are the object of this study, is the sun with the superimposed Christogram IHS, a cross and three nails (the monogram of the Jesuit order), a shining and new sun that replaces the ancient sun of the Inca empire and emphasizes the role of Christianity as the source of true light (32). Saint Ignatius Loyola and Saint Francis Borgia are placed below that sun, in the center of the composition, their presence being a symbol of the importance given by their Order to the mission of Christianization.

2. Indigenous interests at stake in 18th century Peru

As previously suggested, the earliest known representations of the marriage seem to be distorting and even negating the indigenous cause, whereas, as it will be proposed, the latest known version seems to at least recognize it. We will be now turning momentarily to this cause and we will employ it as a contextual frame in the comparative formal analysis that will follow. This analysis is frequently overlooked, and the same recurring description appears to apply to all the versions, while the necessary relevance is not given to certain iconographic features that might result essential to better understand the series as a whole.

During the last century of the Spanish dominion over the Viceroyalty of Peru, the society was profoundly divided in groups whose antagonisms provoked serious and frequent tensions. One of those groups, integrated by the caciques of noble Inca descent, was intellectually very active in Cuzco in the last third of the seventeenth century, and it gave origin to what John Rowe described as the national Inca movement (33), a set of ideas, behaviours, and cultural manifestations that generated, on the one hand, an indigenous renaissance, and, on the other, an iconographic war between factions aimed to either defend or oppose that renaissance. The civic and religious authorities, relying on the support of the creoles and of ample sectors of the mestizo population, adopted diverse attitudes of opposition, which ranged from direct threat to prudent conciliation. One of the most drastic measures, adopted by Bishop Mollinedo, involved the ban on the depiction of the ethnicity of Christ. As a result, effigies of the Christ Child portrayed as an Inca were at once removed from the altars (34). Likewise, the representation of Saint James the Great, patron saint of Spain, as a warrior fighting against the Moors, known in Spanish as Santiago Matamoros, or Saint James the Moor-slayer, was revitalised, as can be seen in the side portal of the Church of La Compania in Arequipa, where one of the pictorial versions of the marriage was displayed. Often in the imagery of colonial Spanish America, however, Saint James was depicted not attacking Moors, but Indians, hence his nickname, Santiago Mataindios, Saint James the Indian-slayer.

The Jesuits took what Stastny called "an original attitude," one that replied to the pretensions of the caciques subtly, but which aim was the final victory of Christianity over the Andean beliefs (35). The surviving depictions of the union of Martin de Loyola and the Inca princess Beatriz that were originally displayed in Jesuit establishments are part of that attitude, and, as those of Saint James the Great slaying Muslims or Indians, they resort to a significant historical event--the actual marriage or the miraculous appearance of Saint James the Great in the legendary Battle of Clavijo fought between Christians and Muslims- in order to fight, now with images, not with weapons, against the socio-political and religious challenges of the present. These challenges were also counteracted, or at least prevented, by the Jesuits in the schools that, strategically located adjacent to their churches, provided a Christian education to the sons of the caciques. As Monique Alaperrine-Bouyer has indicated, colonial authorities, Jesuits among them, were aware of the fact that the Indians could use what they had learnt in the schools to defend their ideas and counteract the colonial interests (36). It seems that, in order to mitigate that possibility, they put into effect certain controversial practices, as it can be at least inferred from a letter to the King of Spain signed by two caciques in Lima in 1657 in which they protested against the presence of Spanish students in the schools and the suppression of Latin from the program of studies of their sons. The presence of Spanish students in these schools, which was not allowed (the Jesuits had founded other establishments for them), Alaperrine-Bouyer suggests, would inevitably entail discrimination. Knowledge of Latin, on the other hand, was associated with the idea of power. As the author recognises, it is still difficult to conclude if the Jesuits led indigenous students along the path of submission or of rebellion, but the most plausible hypothesis is to believe that their attitudes changed over time. The paintings of this study might be illustrating those changing attitudes with certain clarity.

Advancing the eighteenth century, however, the claims of the indigenous groups seem to have been partially heard. For instance, if beaterios had been deemed centers for displaced and sexually unbridled women at the end of the seventeenth century (37), in 1750 the last known version of the marriage between Martin and Beatriz was commissioned by one of them, the beaterio of Our Lady of Copacabana in Lima, or at least displayed there sometime later (38). Could this be explaining why while earlier versions of the marriage depict Martin and Beatriz's daughter as a white woman, the fourth canvas in the set echoes her ethnicity and colours her skin? Luis E. Wuffarden contends that representing Ana Maria as a white woman, even though she was the daughter of a white father and an Indian mother, was done to insinuate the progressive whitening of the native royal lineage when becoming related to the European aristocracy (39). In the fourth canvas, nevertheless, Ana Maria was indeed depicted as a mestiza. The Mexican painter Miguel Cabrera (1695-1768) composed only a few years later, in 1763, a series of casta paintings, sets of paintings depicting family groups with parents of different races and one or more of their children. It is often common to see that, within the series, the one representing the union between a white person and an indigenous person, and their offspring, shows the little mestizo child with a beautiful olive-coloured skin. As Scarlett O'Phelan has said, the Bourbon dynasty, which started to rule Spain in the year 1700, accepted the ample miscegenation that had begun in Spanish America with the arrival of the Europeans and their African slaves. In turn, it commissioned celebrated series of casta paintings, recognising and showing to the world the racial diversity of its territories, and, on a more practical level, extending the obligation of paying taxes to groups that had not contributed before, such as mestizos and mulattos (40). Moreover, in 1725 King Philip V of Spain ratified a royal decree aimed to award the same attributions and considerations that were granted to Castilian noblemen to noble Indians that could prove Inca descent.

This change in royal politics that favoured racial diversity and acknowledged Indian nobility advancing the eighteenth century had its parallel in the evolution of the relation between the indigenous nobility and the Church during that same time period. For instance, in 1708 an Indian lay sister was able to fund in Cuzco a beaterio and school exclusively for indigenous women. Only one Spanish woman was accepted in the institution. She was in charge of inaugurating the course in Spanish. Afterwards, so the lay sister stipulated, no other Spanish woman could be granted access to the school, since students would learn from each other (41). In addition, and as David Garrett has pointed out, only by the middle of the eighteenth century members of noble indigenous families were granted access to the religious orders and to priesthood (42). In other social strata the changes were also noticeable. In rural areas, during celebrations honouring the figures of Saint James the Great and Saint Ignatius Loyola, the Christ Child was often dressed as an Inca, and Andean sorcerers invoked the Apostle as Illapa ("Thunder"), that is, as a pre-Hispanic divinity (43). It seems, therefore, that at least Mollinedo's prohibitions were progressively and successfully contested.

In 1741, and according to the chronicler Diego de Esquivel y Navia, the city of Cuzco judged childish and censured a tradition that had taken place during certain annual festivities. This tradition was the dramatization of the marriage of Martin and Beatriz in front of the Church of La Compania (44). Could have the caciques, whose daughters played the role of a presumably submissive Beatriz, partially influenced this decision, uncomfortable with the sight of their daughters performing miscegenation, but ultimately embodying subordination? (45) A few years later, in 1748, a group of members of the indigenous elite resident in Lima commissioned a literary work to Francisco del Castillo, a creole friar, on occasion of the festivities commemorating the coronation of King Ferdinand VI of Spain (1713-1759) in July of 1746. The work, titled La Conquista del Peru, was composed of a praise and a comedy. It would have been staged in the section of the festivities where the naturales, the Indians, would participate as members of a guild. Before 1748, the festivity of the naturales had been limited to a procession where principal Indians paraded dressed as Incas. Although the play was probably not staged on this occasion, as Emmanuel Velayos suggests, it was a clear negotiation attempt, with a capital ideological message, to demand more active participation, recognition, and a prominent and differentiated place in the political and social order of the Empire (46). In the passage of the praise where the Peruvian Nation addresses Europe in the terms Ya soy contigo tan una que la separacion niego porque la union de la sangre casi identidad ha hecho (47) ("We have become nearly one, so much so that I deny separation, because the union of the blood has almost turned into identity") we cannot but identify a written claim very similar to that visually represented in the version of the marriage that was displayed in the beaterio of Our Lady of Copacabana. We will now describe the formal characteristics of this and the other three canvases.

3. A comparative formal analysis

Our analysis focuses on four specific, and key, formal aspects of the paintings: the position of the protagonist couple, the architectural background, Martin's staff, and the garments and attributes worn by the members of Beatriz's family, specifically the men's uncus ("tunics") and their headdresses. Other important elements, such as the clothes, the jewelry, the cartouches with inscriptions, and the variations in the distribution of the figures within the composition--circular in the first version, triangular in the second and third versions, and horizontal in the fourth version-have been consciously excluded, since previous studies on the paintings have tended to concentrate on these elements. In the three earliest known canvases Martin, the groom, is located on the left side of the composition (viewer's perspective), closer to her spouse's relatives, who are depicted in the background. To his left (canvas perspective) is placed Beatriz. This seems to contradict Carlos Vega's assertion that the Indian woman in America was located neither behind nor in front of the man, but next to him and to his right (48). The later version, however, shows them reversely, that is, the princess is now placed to the right of the captain and, therefore, closer to her family. Garcia Saiz, in her study of the paintings, recognizes that whether in the first canvas the left is reserved for the men and the right for the women, this position is "curiously modified" in the Copacabana version, an interesting modification that, according to the scholar, frees it from its previous indigenous content (49). She does not elaborate further. Wuffarden complements this observation suggesting that this "insignificant" formal difference--the change in the position of the sitters in the Copacabana canvas- is related to its specific audience, this to know, the daughters of the indigenous nobility that lived in the beaterio, and the families that occasionally would visit them, it can be added. The scholar also notices that in this version Beatriz's copper-colored hand appears in the foreground, placed on top of her husband's, and not the other way around (50). Although for Wuffarden these changes are exclusively related to the specific context in which the painting was displayed and received, we contend that those also echoed broader and far-reaching changing social, religious, and political circumstances, as indicated previously.

But, most significantly, what these scholars, and others that have studied the paintings in depth, have failed to point out is that whether the three earliest known paintings show Martin holding with his left hand Beatriz's right hand, the last one depicts them holding each other's right hands. Garcia Saiz even mentions that the couple in the first version has been depicted following the model usually used to illustrate the Betrothal of the Virgin (51). If this argument proves to be correct in relation to the last known version of the marriage, it is incorrect when applied to previous versions. Depictions of the Holy Matrimony consistently show Mary and Joseph holding each other's right hands, as illustrated, for instance, in a colonial painting now in the collection of the Brooklyn Museum (Fig. 7). It has been selected because it shares a similar chronology and a similar geographical origin with the paintings that are the object of this study, but the examples of this convention in works from other geographical areas and time frames are plentiful. As Charlene Villasenor Black has indicated, in his treatise on painting, published in 1649, the Spanish painter and author Francisco Pacheco--Diego Velazquez's teacher and father-in-law- advised that the Virgin and Joseph be painted "giving their rights hands to each other with great honesty." (52) It might have occurred that the anonymous artists that composed the earlier versions of the marriage simply made a mistake. They could have used a print of a painting of the Holy Matrimony as a reference, and altered it inadvertently, or purposely, but only for aesthetic or compositional reasons. As Carolyn Dean has said, prints were often not merely copied. "Not only was colour introduced, but pictorial elements were added, deleted, or changed. Such alterations in the form and composition of the printed source affected the meaning." (53) Nevertheless, taking into consideration the fact that the Inquisition's guidelines for the depictions of specific religious imagery are clearly described in Pacheco's treatise (54), which circulated in the Viceroyalty of Peru and other areas of colonial Latin America, that the Inquisition aimed to give visual form to the ceremony as standardized by the Council of Trent (1545-1563), which also stressed the importance of the proper handclasp between the spouses, that Christian marriage was considered a primordial agent of acculturation and colonization in the Americas, and that the Jesuits were champions in its promotion, the idea of an artist, or a group of artists, working for the Jesuits and altering this particular iconography--because the various paintings of the union of Martin and Beatriz were precisely that, the depiction of a Christian marriage--without a very specific purpose, or command, in mind is highly implausible. We contend that by depicting Martin holding with his left hand Beatriz's hand, those who commissioned the first three works intended to represent a morganatic marriage, also referred to as a left-handed marriage. This is, we believe, the specific purpose that motivated such a far from trivial alteration.

A marriage is said to be morganatic, in opposition to equal, if a high-ranking man, such as a prince, marries a woman of lesser birth or rank--rarely the only way round. Morganatic marriages were originally a German custom. They are also called left-handed marriages because the tradition was that at the altar the groom extended his left hand to the bride, not his right, as a symbol of their unorthodox union, one in which the spouses preserved their former social positions. The traditional etymology of the term comes from the Gothic word Morjgant, "to restrict," and the German word Morgengabe, "morning gift," which was, in fact, the only gift or dowry granted to the spouse of lower social class (55). In a morganatic marriage, that spouse kept her or his former social position and was not entitled to inherit the property, rank, or titles of the spouse of noble descent. The same applied to their children. Pictorial variants of morganatic marriages, reflecting not only social or economic differences or interests, but disdain between the spouses or from one spouse towards the other, may be illustrated in Henry Singleton's The Marriage of George IV (1762-1830) when Prince of Wales (Fig. 8). George, Prince of Wales, married Princess Caroline of Brunswick (1768-1821) in April of 1795 at the request of his father, George III, King of Great Britain and Ireland, who arranged the union in conjunction with the Parliament. The marriage was not morganatic--as England never adopted this institution- but it displeased the Prince of Wales enormously and the union never succeeded. The fact that Caroline was George III's niece from her mother side might be explaining why she, too, gives the groom her left, and not her right, hand. The famous Arnolfini Portrait (1434) might be also depicting a morganatic union. Erwin Panofsky interpreted it a representation of a morganatic marriage, which the German art historian understood as a union based exclusively on financial interests. Other scholars have seen in the position of the hands an allusion to the social and economical inequality that existed between the spouses. Nevertheless, none of these two interpretations have been universally accepted, and scholars today still debate the symbolism of the portrait.

Certainly, the factual marriage between Martin and Beatriz was not a morganatic union. Beatriz was a wealthy woman and Ana Maria inherited her titles and properties, as well as those of her father. But, a century after it had taken place, those who commissioned the earliest known pictorial versions of the event judged pertinent to portray Beatriz, the indigenous spouse, as that with the lower rank, perhaps in order to indicate that the marriage between a Spaniard and an Indian was unequal, because Spaniards were and had to be considered superior to the other colonial subjects. They primarily conveyed this message by showing Martin forcefully holding with his left hand Beatriz's hand--a "gesture of control and sexual violence" (56)--but also by only acknowledging the Spanish background of their daughter (a mestiza, after all) and depicting her as a white woman, whose marriage to a Spanish man was an equal union, hence the depiction--in the background, but still visible--of both spouses holding right, and not left, hands. Nevertheless, it must be reiterated that this female character that is depicted in early versions of the marriage could also be identified as Lorenza de Onaz y Loyola (d. 1575), who got married in 1552, judging by the inscriptions with her name--which could, however, be inaccurate or inexact--but more precisely by her physical traits and by the jewelry that she is wearing, since women of mixed descent were not allowed to wear silk mantles, gold or pearls for many years (57). Some time afterwards, those who commissioned, created or displayed another version of the marriage might have thought that the main protagonists were and had to be considered equals, despite their different racial traits, and, therefore, represented them affectionately holding right hands, and represented their daughter as a proper mestiza, brown-skinned, and as her husband's equal during the recreation of their wedding in the background. The fact that, in the foreground, his husband grasps her left hand with his right hand, which allows her to bring her right hand close to her heart, could be indicating that the mestiza is now deemed to be the privileged spouse. Although the Jesuits strongly influenced, and occasionally even exerted, the power in Habsburg Spain, and with the arrival of the Bourbon Dynasty they experienced a stellar political rise--both King Philip V, the first member of the House of Bourbon, and his successor King Ferdinand VI had Jesuit confessors--soon afterwards they drastically fell out of royal favour. Therefore, it is possible to argue that if they also commissioned the painting that eventually was displayed at the Franciscan institution (58), they could have used it as a political weapon, not hesitating to acknowledge Beatriz's high status and Ana Maria's true ethnicity with the aim of allying with the indigenous and mestizo upper classes to defend their social, political, and religious interests. And, by the same logic, those elite groups, which might have been in charge of commissioning the painting and donating it to the beaterio, must have aimed to equally benefit from, or even demand, such significant alteration.

Other elements in the paintings assist in supporting this alternative hermeneutic reading. The architectural backgrounds, for instance, which are charged with political and religious symbolism, are significantly more precise and differentiated in the two first canvases, progressively less visible in the third version, and almost diffused, merely suggested, in the fourth and last known version. Likewise, whereas the coat of arms of Cuzco, altered by the inclusion of arrows piercing the Inca construction and a rainbow, is prominently shown in the earlier versions of the marriage, it is altogether omitted in the version at the beaterio. Furthermore, while the two earlier canvases reserve a prominent space for the fortified tower, possibly an allusion to the strength of the Spanish Monarchy, as previously suggested, the version at Our Lady of Copacabana seems to purposely erase it. As Victor Minguez has argued, the paintings depicting the marriage of Martin and Beatriz were ultimately of advantage to the prestige of the Jesuits, but they also contributed to consolidate the dominion of the Spanish Monarchy (59). It seems plausible that, once that Monarchy had failed to protect their interests, the practical Jesuits decided to stop promoting it in their visual culture, and this might be explaining why the last known version does not show (or almost erase) any literal or figurative signs or traces of it, such as the fortified tower. Although it has been stated that in those versions that were not displayed in Cuzco the architectural background loses the symbolic meaning and adopts an air of "mere circumstantial atmosphere," (60) since those who saw those paintings were not familiarised with the superposition of buildings that was characteristic of the former Inca capital, we believe, however, that the presence, or the absence, of the architectural background was a very intentional move, aimed to convey a politically charged message.

A closer look at the different versions further reveals that, in the two first canvases, the design of the staff that Martin carries presents characteristics of the champi, the symbol of power of the Incas in the shape of an axe, whereas, in the later version, the staff is altogether replaced by a European bengala or military sceptre. Likewise, in the two earliest known canvases Beatriz's father and uncle appear to be dressed with the traditional male tunic called uncu featuring tocapu design along the waistband (Fig. 9). The tocapu, a pre-Hispanic Andean system of graphical communication, consisted of a series of polychromatic squares enclosing abstract geometric motifs that were generally woven or embroidered in textiles and painted in pots and queros, wooden ceremonial vases. Although its interpretation is still debatable, tocapu have been traditionally understood as symbols used by Inca royalty to portray or characterize dynasties, monarchs, and their prestige. Garments featuring tocapu were still worn during the colonial period, since their design was solely associated with Inca royalty, not with its military (61). However, in the last painting Beatriz's relatives appear to be wearing a military tunic, judging by its motifs--the checkerboard and the Inca key (Fig. 10)--, and, while the first canvases depict prominently and in detail the mascapaycha, the Inca imperial tassel, with the two feathers of the corequenque, in the heads of Beatriz's father and uncle, the last one practically omits them. We contend, resorting to Carolyn Dean's conclusion in her study on the depiction of Inca regalia in other colonial Peruvian paintings, that the prominence given to the depiction of those symbols of Inca power in the first canvases might have represented an attempt to empty their former content and to more emphatically and effectively refer to their transformation into symbols of conversion (62). Likewise, that their practical omission in the last canvas, and their replacement by subtle but identifiable military motifs in the garments of Beatriz's ancestors, might have symbolized the successful resistance of the indigenous elite to the totalizing claims of colonial authority.

4. Perpetuating and transforming the foundational images of colonial society

This study has suggested that, although systematically ignored or judged irrelevant, specific formal differences in the various depictions of the marriage of Martin Garcia Onez de Loyola and Beatriz Clara Coya that have survived to this day, such as the way the groom grasps or holds the bride's hand, could have been key in the interpretation of the messages that those paintings might have once aimed to convey: submission of the indigenous population to the Spanish authorities, where and when it was necessary to convey or to stress that message, and recognition of the indigenous claims, where and when it was feasible to do it. It cannot be forgotten that these paintings played a very significant propagandistic and didactic role, and, therefore, their iconography could be neither ambiguous nor polysemic. They aimed to work as "meals ready to eat," as Saint Francis Borgia used to say when referring to paintings and other works of art. Juan Carlos Estenssoro has mentioned that, advancing the eighteenth century, the indigenous elite in the Viceroyalty of Peru was finally able to gain an exceptional visibility that allowed its members to transform the foundational images of colonial society (63), and the author illustrates his argument with a painting made in 1732-1733 for the Church of El Triunfo in Cuzco. The canvas depicts the moment in which, according to legend, the Virgin miraculously descended from Heaven in order to prevent the Indians from setting fire to the Sunturhuasi, the former Inca structure where on May 23, 1536 the Spaniards sought shelter after the locals had risen up in arms. The restrained attitude of Santiago the Apostle and the composure of the Incas are worth mentioning. There is neither trace of the Inca attack nor reference to the reverential fear that, according to the chronicles, pervaded the assaulters. The tone of an earlier version of the miracle, completed for the same location sometime before 1654, is altogether different. A sense of Christian fury and domination and of indigenous suffering, stupor, and defeat invades the scene.

The four surviving paintings depicting the union of a member of the Loyola family to an Inca princess may also illustrate for today's viewers the evolution of that transformation in colonial society, which first negated and eventually accepted the social, political, and religious claims of its indigenous members. Furthermore, we venture to suggest that, when originally commissioned and displayed, further from just illustrating, those paintings were directly meant to firstly impede and subsequently contribute to that transformation, primarily on account of their differing formal characteristics. Historically forgotten, and partially invisible in previous studies on the paintings, the figure of Beatriz, the bride, a prominent Inca woman, who could have become the new Inca monarch (64), starts to come to the fore in this alternative interpretation of the canvases, which revolves around the way in which her depiction as the spouse of a Spaniard was significantly modified in the course of time as a reflection of changing social, political, and religious circumstances. In these paintings, she came to personify the struggles that various groups of colonial actors--the Spanish authorities and the indigenous elite among them--had to face in order to successfully maintain, or to contest, the status quo.

Marina Mellado Corriente (1)

Recibido: 27 de noviembre de 2017 / Aceptado: 20 de junio de 2018

(1) Virginia Commonwealth University. VCUarts, Department of Art History Codigo ORCID: 0000-0003-1803-6805

(2) "El espanol se unio a la indigena porque se enamoro de ella y porque la quiso." Vega, C. (2003). Conquistadoras: Mujeres heroicas de la conquista de America. Jefferson: MacFarland & Company, 8.

(3) "Aunque fuese yndia y de su traje, entendiendo que asi avia hecho servicio a vuestra magestad y a mi en su real nombre ... para por su causa no hubiese pretension ni desasosiego." Rostworowski, M. (1989). Dona Francisca Pizarro. Una ilustre mestiza 1534-1598. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, 81-82.

(4) See, among others: Gisbert, T. (1980). Iconografia y mitos indigenas en el arte. La Paz: Editorial Gisbert, 147-92; Stastny, F. (1982). Iconografia, pensamiento y sociedad en el Cuzco virreinal. Cielo Abierto, 21(7), 40-55; Fraser, V. (1992). Architecture and Ambition: The Case of the Jesuits in the Viceroyalty of Peru. History Workshop, 34(1), 16-32; Chang-Rodriguez, R. (1996). La princesa incaica Beatriz Clara y el dramaturgo ilustrado Francisco del Castillo. In M. Morana (Ed.), Mujer y cultura en la colonia hispanoamericana (pp. 51-66). Pittsburg: Instituto Internacional de Literatura Iberoamericana; Dean, C. (1999). Inka Bodies and the Body of Christ: Corpus Christi in Colonial Cuzco, Peru. Durham and London: Duke University Press; Rodriguez G. de Ceballos, A. (1999). Union de la Descendencia Imperial Incaica con las Casas de y Borja. In J. Berchez (Dir.), Los Siglos de Oro en los Virreinatos de America: 1550-1700 (pp. 186-187). Madrid: Museo del Prado; Timberlake, M. (1999). The Painted Colonial Image: Andean and Jesuit Fabrication of History in Matrimonio de Garcia de Loyola con Nusta Beatriz. Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 29(3), 563-598; Timberlake, M. (2001). The Painted Image and the Fabrication of Colonial Andean History: Jesuit and Andean Visions in Conflict in Matrimonio de Garcia de Loyola con Nusta Beatriz (Ph.D. dissertation). University of California, Los Angeles; Stastny, F. (2001). De la confesion al matrimonio. Ejercicios en la representacion de correlaciones con incas coloniales. Revista del Museo Nacional, 49, 213-32; Dean, C. (2002). Familiarizando el catolicismo en el Cuzco colonial. In J. J. Decoster (Ed.), Incas e indios cristianos: Elites indigenas e identidades cristianas en los Andes coloniales (pp. 169-191). Cuzco: Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos Bartolome de Las Casas, Instituto Frances de Estudios Andinos, Asociacion Kuraka; Garcia Saiz, M. C. (2002). Una contribucion andina al barroco americano. In R. Mujica Pinilla (Ed.), El Barroco Peruano, Vol. 1 (pp. 201-217). Lima: Banco de Credito del Peru; O'Phelan Godoy, S. (2002). El vestido como identidad etnica e indicador social de una cultura material. In El Barroco Peruano, Vol. 2 (pp. 99-133). Lima: Banco de Credito del Peru; Lopez Guzman, R. (2004). Los Caminos del Arte. In R. Lopez Guzman (Ed.), Peru indigena y virreinal (pp. 42-48). Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Accion Cultural al Exterior (SEACEX); Minguez, V. (2004). Sincretismo Cultural. In R. Lopez Guzman (Ed.), Peru indigena y virreinal (pp. 196-197). Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Accion Cultural al Exterior (SEACEX); Mujica Pinilla, R. (2004). El "Nino Jesus Inca" y los Jesuitas en el Cusco virreinal. In R. Lopez Guzman (Ed.), Peru indigena y virreinal (pp. 102-106). Madrid: Sociedad Estatal para la Accion Cultural al Exterior (SEACEX); Ramos Gomez, L. (2004). El motivo "torre" en el escudo de Cuzco y en los queros y otras vasijas andinas de madera de epoca colonial del Museo de America, Madrid. Revista Espanola de Antropologia Americana, 34, 163-186; Decoster, J. J. (2005). Identidad etnica y manipulacion cultural: La indumentaria inca en la epoca colonial. Estudios Atacamenos, 29, 163-170; Wuffarden, L. E. (2005). La descendencia real y el "renacimiento inca" en el virreinato. In T. Cummins et al. (Eds.), Los incas, reyes del Peru (pp. 175-251). Lima: Banco de Credito; Estenssoro Fuchs, J. C. (2005). Construyendo la memoria: La figura del inca y el reino del Peru, de la conquista a Tupac Amaru II. In T. Cummins et al. (Eds.), Los incas, reyes del Peru (pp. 93-173); Mujica Pinilla, R. (2006). Nuptials of Martin de Loyola with the Nusta Beatriz and of Don Juan de Borja with Dona Lorenza Nusta de Loyola. In J. Rishel and S. Stratton-Pruitt (Eds.), The Arts in Latin America, 1492-1820 (pp. 440-441). Philadelphia: Philadelphia Museum of Art; Velayos, E. (2010). "Porque su derecho no perdieran": La representacion de la elite indigena (y la marca criolla) en la loa de La Conquista del Peru (1748) de Francisco del Castillo. Ciberletras, 24. Obtained from http: // v24/velayos.html [Consulted: October 7th, 2017]; Choque, A. (2014). El retrato de Beatriz Clara Coya y la instauracion de un modelo iconografico en el Virreinato del Peru. Rhiap, Revista de Historia del Arte Peruano, 1(1), 44-59; Imolesi, M. E. (2012), Teoria y Practica de la Cristianizacion del Matrimonio en Hispanoamerica Colonial (Ph.D. dissertation). Universidad de Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires; Stephens, J. G. (2013). Constructing the Pre-Columbian Past: Peruvian Paintings of the Inka Dynasty, 1572-1879 (Ph.D. dissertation). University of California, Los Angeles; and Ficek, A. A. (2013-2014). Crossing Oceans, Crossing Boundaries: A Transatlantic Reading of the Matrimonio de don Martin Garcia de Loyola con Nusta Beatriz Clara Coya. The Atlantic Millenium, 12, 34-46.

(5) Wuffarden, L. E., Op. cit, 2005, 195.

(6) Cummins, T. B. F. (1996). A Tale of Two Cities: Cuzco, Lima, and the Construction of Colonial Representation. In D. Fane (Ed.), Converging Cultures. Art and Identity in Spanish America (pp. 157-169), 165. New York: Harry N. Abrams.

(7) Dean, C. (1996). The Renewal of Old World Images and the Creation of Colonial Peruvian Visual Culture. In D. Fane (Ed.), Op. cit., 1996, 171.

(8) We borrow this term from Peruvian art historian F. Stastny. Stastny, F., Op. cit., 1982, 42.

(9) Gisbert, T., Op. cit., 1980, 156, and Stastny, F., Op. cit., 1982, 52.

(10) Timberlake, M., Op. cit, 1999, 564 and 581; Garcia Saiz, M. C., Op. cit., 2002, 216; Wuffarden, L. E., Op. cit, 2005, 195; Mujica Pinilla, R., Op. cit, 2006, 441; Ramos Gomez, L., Op. cit, 2004, 173; Imolesi, M. E., Op. cit, 2012, 110-111; Stephens, J. G., Op. cit, 2013, 134.

(11) Benavente Velarde, T. (1995). Pintores cusquenos de la colonia. Cuzco: Municipalidad del Qosqo, 141.

(12) Gisbert, T., Op. cit., 1980, 153; Garcia Saiz, M. C., Op. cit, 2002, 206.

(13) Although it is possible to contend, with Garcia Saiz and other authors, that some of the versions might not be depicting the marriage of Ana Maria Clara Coya de Loyola and Juan Henriquez de Borja, but that of Lorenza de Onaz y Loyola and Juan de Borja--judging by the inscriptions located in the lower part of the canvases, which identify them- who in 1552 had joined with their matrimony the houses of Borja and Loyola. Garcia Saiz, Ibidem., 213. The last version undoubtedly depicts the marriage of Ana Maria and Juan Henriquez, judging not only by the inscription with their names--which might have finally been corrected, after all- but by the less ambiguous and more realistic rendering of the physiognomy of the mestiza Ana Maria.

(14) Choque, A., Op. cit, 2014, 52.

(15) This scarcity of ideological texts might be justified, since, as Garcia Saiz states, if existent, those texts would have provoked a strong negative reaction by the colonial authorities. Ibidem., 206. After all, the Jesuits ultimately aimed to create a Catholic theocracy in Peru, an empire of their own. Gisbert, T., Op. cit., 1980, 156.

These paintings may be extraordinary testimonies of that ambitious, and risky, project, hence their historical significance.

(16) Ibid. Timberlake, M. Op. cit., 1999, 584 and 585.

(17) Stastny, F., Op. cit, 1982, 50 and 52.

(18) Ibid., 52.

(19) Timberlake, M. Op. cit, 1999, 584 and 585.

(20) Ibid., 563.

(21) Fraser, V., Op. cit, 1992, 29-30.

(22) Timberlake, M., Op. cit., 1999, 582.

(23) Fraser, V. Op. cit, 1992, 20.

(24) Ibid., 23.

(25) Dean, C., Op. cit., 1999, 23.

(26) Ibid., 22.

(27) The ultimate aim of the Jesuits was to achieve by their own means a definitive moral control over the indigenous population, starting first by the elite (hence the subject matter of the set of paintings) and reaching through them to the lay people. Stastny, F., Op. cit, 2001, 219.

(28) Ramos Gomez, L., Op. cit., 2004, 168-9.

(29) Ibid., 173.

(30) Ibid., 175, footnote 30.

(31) Timberlake, M., Op. cit., 1999, 568

(32) Dean, C., Op. cit., 1999, 127.

(33) Stastny, F., Op. cit., 1982, 44.

(34) Mujica Pinilla, R., Op. cit, 2004, 104.

(35) Stastny, F., Op. cit., 1982, 50.

(36) Alaperrine-Bouyer, M. (2002). Saber y poder: La cuestion de la educacion de las elites indigenas. In J. J. De coster (Ed.), Op. cit. (145-167), 157.

(37) Andres de Mollinedo y Rado, Bishop Manuel de Mollinedo's nephew, referred to them in these terms. Burns, K. J. (2002). Beatas, "decencia" y poder: La formacion de una elite indigena en el Cuzco colonial. In J. J. Decoster (Ed.), Op. cit. (121-134), 123.

(38) In colonial Peru, the Virgin of Copacabana was identified as the Indian Virgin. Alaperrine-Bouyer, M., Op. cit., 2002, 154.

(39) Wuffarden, L. E., Op. cit, 2005, 198.

(40) O'Phelan Godoy, S., Op. cit, 2002, 112.

(41) Burns, K. J., Op. cit, 2002, 129.

(42) Garrett, D. (2002). La Iglesia y el poder social de la nobleza indigena cuzquena, siglo XVIII. In J. J. Decoster (Ed.), Op. cit., (295-310), 302.

(43) Mujica Pinilla, R., Op. cit., 2004, 105.

(44) Mujica Pinilla, R., Op. cit, 2006, 441.

(45) Dean, C., Op. cit., 1999, 39-43. We suggest this hypothesis assuming, nevertheless, that this live performance did not experience changes in its configuration in the course of time, as the paintings did, and that, like the earliest canvases, it portrayed Beatriz as a submissive subject.

(46) Velayos, E., Op. cit., 2010, n. pag.

(47) Mujica Pinilla, R., Op. cit., 2004, 106.

(48) Vega, C., Op. cit., 2003, 103.

(49) Garcia Saiz, M. C., Op. cit, 2002, 212-213 and 216.

(50) Wuffarden, L. E., Op. cit., 2005, 197.

(51) Garcia Saiz, M. C., Op. cit., 2002, 212.

(52) Quoted by C. Villasenor Black (2001). Love and Marriage in the Spanish Empire: Depictions of Holy Matrimony and Gender Discourses in the Seventeenth Century. The Sixteenth Century Journal, 32 (3), 637-667.

(53) Dean, C., Op. cit, 1996, 180.

(54) Villasenor Black, C., Op. cit, 2001, 646.

(55) Radin, M., (1937). Legal history of the Morganatic Marriage. The University of Chicago Law Review, 4, 597617.

(56) Ficek, A., Op. cit., 2013-2014, 37.

(57) Phipps, E. (2004). Garments and Identity in the Colonial Andes. In Elena Phipps, Johanna Hecht and Cristina Esteras Martin (Eds.), The Colonial Andes: Tapestry and Silverwork (17-39), 27. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

(58) After the expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain and Spanish America in 1767, many of their artistic assets were distributed to other institutions.

(59) Minguez, V., Op. cit., 2004, 196.

(60) Wuffarden, L. E., Op. cit, 2005, 198.

(61) Pillsbury, J. (2001). Inca-Colonial Tunics: A Case Study of the Bandelier Set. In M. Young-Sanchez and F. W. Simpson (Eds.), Andean Textile Traditions: Papers from the 2001 Mayer Center Symposium at the Denver Art Museum (122-169), 141 and 144. Denver: Frederick and Jan Mayer Center for Pre-Columbian and Spanish Colonial Art, Denver Art Museum.

(62) Dean, C., Op. cit, 1999, 110.

(63) Estenssoro Fuchs, J. C., Op. cit, 2005, 164.

(64) She would have been the monarch of the so-called Neo-Inca State, the last bastion of the Inca Empire that had survived after the Spanish conquest.

Caption: Fig. 1. Cuzco School, The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, c. 1675-1690. Oil on canvas, 273 x 455 cm. Cuzco: Church of La Compania. Photo: Daniel Giannoni. Source: Archi, Archivo Digital de Arte Peruano.

Caption: Fig. 2. Cuzco School, The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, 1718. Oil on canvas, 174 x 170 cm. Museo Pedro de Osma-Lima, Peru. Photo: Mayu Mohanna. Source: Museo Pedro de Osma-Lima, Peru.

Caption: Fig. 3. Unknown, The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, c. 1720. Oil on canvas. Arequipa: Church of La Compania. Photo: Daniel Giannoni. Source: Archi, Archivo Digital de Arte Peruano.

Caption: Fig. 4. Unknown, The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, c. 1750. Oil on canvas. Lima: Beaterio of Copacabana. Photo: Daniel Giannoni. Source: Archi, Archivo Digital de Arte Peruano.

Caption: Fig. 5. Detail from The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, c. 1675-1690.

Caption: Fig. 6. Detail from The Marriage of Captain Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, c. 1675-1690.

Caption: Fig. 7. Unknown, Wedding of Mary and Joseph, late 17 seventeenth century. Oil on canvas, 82.9 x 122.6 cm. New York: Brooklyn Museum, Carll H. de Silver Fund, 41.1251. Source: Brooklyn Museum.

Caption: Fig. 8. Henry Singleton, The Marriage of George IV (1762-1830) when Prince of Wales, 1795. Oil on canvas, 48.5 x 60.7 cm. London: Buckingham Palace. Source: Royal Collection Trust / (c) Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2018.

Caption: Fig. 9 (left) and Fig. 10 (right). Details from The Marriage of Captan Martin de Loyola to Beatriz Nusta, 1718 and c. 1750 versions, respectively.
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Title Annotation:texto en ingles
Author:Mellado Corriente, Marina
Publication:Anales de Historia del Arte
Article Type:Ensayo
Date:Jan 1, 2018
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