A PANORAMIC VIEW
_Part I: To the End of the Sixteenth Century._
To the student who is in pursuit of æsthetic enjoyment rather than
critical research the art of Spain resolves itself into the works of a
comparatively small number of painters. It is these who are represented
in the galleries of Europe and America and form the chief attraction in
the Prado and smaller museums of Spain, as well as in the cathedrals and
churches; at least in those cases, not too frequent, where there is
sufficient light to see them. The spell exercised by these artists each
in his different way, is so arresting that one may easily be indifferent
to those of minor quality. On the other hand, our interest is increased
if we glance over the whole field, the level of which is interrupted by
conspicuous individuals, and thus view the latter in their respective
times and places in the general story.
It must not be forgotten that the racial characteristics of Spain and
her art, while they preserve a general national uniformity, were
modified by the circumstances of different environments. Even before
their union by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, the kingdoms of
Castile and Aragón presented a noted difference. The former included
besides the province of Castile, the other divisions of territory in the
northwest of the Peninsula; while Aragón embraced Catalonia and
Valencia, the provinces bordering on the Mediterranean, and had extended
her authority to the Balearic Isles, Sardinia and Sicily. The
geographical distribution tells its own tale: Castile, with her bleak
Sierras and wind-swept, sun-parched plains, a region of strenuousness;
Aragón, dipping her hot feet in the Mediterranean, her asperities
assuaged by influences from over-sea. For, while Castile was early
disposed to derive her foreign influences from the Netherlands and
Germany, Aragón and especially Valencia drew theirs from Italy. Later,
when the union of the entire country was achieved by the conquest of
Andalusia and Granada, the climatic conditions of these two provinces
and their proximity to the Mediterranean naturally drew them into close
relations both with Valencia and Italy. It remains only to mention in
the way of anticipation, that the seat of Government, being always in
Castile and finally established in Madrid, became a nucleus to which the
various influences from other parts of the country were attracted. Thus,
while the Schools of Valencia and Andalusia preserved their local
characteristics, the School of Castile, which later is more specifically
known as the School of Madrid, became under the patronage of the Court
more cosmopolitan.
The sources of painting in Spain, as in other countries, are to be
looked for, first in illuminated manuscripts and secondly in the remains
of mural decorations. The earliest examples of the latter are to be
found in the figures of saints which adorn the little church of El
Cristo de la Luz in Toledo and in some scenes from the Passion on the
vaulting of the chapel of St. Catherine in San Isidoro in Léon. These
are attributed to the twelfth century. Later examples of the fourteenth
century, exist in Seville, in San Lorenzo, San Ildefonso and the Capella
de la Antigua in the Cathedral. The subject of each is the Virgin. In
the cathedral, for example, she is represented against a gold diapered
background, her robe also being adorned with arabesques of gold. In her
right hand she holds a rose and with her left supports the Child, while
two angels suspend a crown over her head. The figure of the Father
Almighty, rather small in scale, appears above. The flesh is scarcely
modeled, and in the case of the Virgin is very tenderly expressed; the
draperies, on the other hand, suggesting in their flatness and breadth
of treatment a sense of bigness. The influence is clearly Italian and
seems to present a union of the feeling of Cimabue and Fra Angelico.
It is with the beginning of the fifteenth century that one reaches sure
ground. In 1428, during the reign of Juan II of Castile, the great
Flemish painter, Jan Van Eyck, while on a mission to Portugal visited
Madrid. His coming aroused in the Spaniards an interest in Flemish art,
which resulted in the importation of paintings by Memlinc, Roger van der
Weyden, Dierick Bouts, Mabuse and Patinir. The effect of their influence
can be studied in the basement galleries of the Prado, where hang
anonymous works by painters of the School of Castile during the
fifteenth century. A very interesting series of scenes from the life of
the Virgin (numbered 2178-2183) exhibits in the angular folds of the
draperies and in the architecture a notable Gothic feeling, and have
much of the freedom of composition and intensity of sentiment of Van der
Weyden. On the other hand in No. 2184, _The Catholic Kings with their
Families at Prayer Before the Virgin_ reproduced on page 18, the
influence of Memlinc and his period of Flemish art appears. One notes
the charming glimpses of landscape, seen through the windows; the almost
childlike sweetness of the faces and the truly Flemish love of beautiful
detail. This is exhibited in the Virgin’s crimson robe and the
rosy-purple gown of the King, both of which are brocaded with designs in
raised gold, and in the various accessories, particularly the church in
the hand of S. Thomas Aquinas, the lily in that of S. Domingo de Guzman,
and the richly decorated throne. On the back of this are curious little
impish figures, that recall the weirdly whimsical inventions of
Hieronymus Bosch, whose pictures, as later those of his imitator, Peeter
Brueghel, were very popular in northern Spain. The figure, kneeling
behind the King, is the Inquisitor-General, Tomas de Torquemada; the one
behind the Queen represents S. Peter Martyr of Verona.
Ascribed to the end of the fifteenth century is the curiously
interesting _S. Ursula_, reproduced on page 31. The picture forms one of
a series of three, of which the first is _The Coronation of the Virgin_
and the third _The Temptation of S. Anthony_. Escorted by the Pope and
by bishops and cardinals, S. Ursula is seen at the head of the
procession of eleven thousand virgins who are following her to Rome;
but, if the legend is to be believed, will be slaughtered by the Huns
near Cologne. With another example, reproduced on page 37, we reach at
least the suggestion of a Spanish painter’s name. _The Apparition of the
Virgin to a Community of Bernardine Monks During a Ceremony of Exorcism_
is ascribed, though with a query, to Pedro Berruguete. Carl Justi
considers that this picture and its companions, illustrating Dominican
legends, were by the Burgundian painter, Juan de Borgoña, assisted by
Berruguete and another painter named Santos Cruz. To the last is
attributed the traces of Peruginesque influence that occur in all the
series; in the present example, in the angels surrounding the Madonna.
But the chief interest lies in the varied and individual
characterization which the artist has given to the heads of the monks
and laity. The latter seem of Flemish type, and, if Carl Justi’s
attribution is correct, may, together with the architectural perspective
have been executed by Juan de Borgoña. On the other hand, Berruguete was
probably responsible for the monks, since they approximate to the
Spanish type, as may be verified by comparing them with the character
studies of this order of brotherhood by Zurbarán (see page 166).
The gradual emergence of the national type in the works of this period
is again illustrated in the collection of splendid panels in the
Hispanic Museum, New York. Examples 1 to 7 show the Netherlandish
influence,
[Illustration: S. STEPHEN CONDUCTED TO MARTYRDOM JUAN DE JUANES
THE PRADO]
while numbers 8 and 9 represent the commencement of native feeling.
Compare, for instance, the face of the woman who kneels on the left of
the foreground in _S. Gregory Saying Mass_ with those of the women in
the high upright panel of the earlier series. The latter have a Flemish
roundness of features and rather dull expression, whereas the face in
the _Gregory_ picture, narrows toward the chin and has something of the
spiritual intensity which in the next century will be brought to its
highest pitch of expression by El Greco. In fact, although Spain
borrowed motives and methods from abroad, the inspiration remained her
own and imprinted a native character on the product.
* * * * *
This is still apparent in the art of the sixteenth century when there
poured into Spain a steady flow of Italian influence. Its general
tendency was to produce a number of so-called “mannerists,” Spanish
painters who experimented with and imitated the style of the Italian
masters, particularly of the Florentines, Da Vinci, Raphael and
Michelangelo. It was a necessary stage through which Spanish art had to
graduate in order to acquire facility in drawing, chiaroscuro and the
principles of composition. But it is not a period on which the student
who is interested in art as a living expression will care to dwell. He
will look upon it as probationary and merely preparatory for the later
liberty of national and individual expression. Yet he may glance over it
and see how even here the yeast of the national genius is fermenting the
mass of borrowed and affected manners.
An example of this is afforded by the work of Juan de Juanes, one of the
early names of prominence in the School of Valencia. The _S. Stephen
Conducted to Martyrdom_, reproduced on page 44, is an illustration of
his style. It forms one of a series, connected with the life of S.
Stephen, which is now in the basement galleries of the Prado. It is not
difficult to detect in these paintings the influence of Raphael. So
noticeable is it, that Cean Bermudez, the chronicler of early Spanish
art, assumes that Juanes must have been a pupil of the Florentine
master. Subsequent research, however, has discovered that the Valencian
painter was not born until 1523, three years after Raphael’s death.
However he may have acquired a knowledge of the latter’s style, it is
evident what it did for him and, through him, for the other painters of
the Valencian school and the closely affiliated school of Andalusia.
Comparing this picture with the earlier ones, reproduced in these pages,
one observes in it a far more varied, facile and accurate skill in
drawing, and that the composition, while it has lost the charm of
naturalness, has gained in science. It is _organisé_, as the French say,
a carefully assembled structure of inter-related parts, locked together
into an ensemble. On the other hand, to anticipate the sequence of our
story, this artificial unity will have to be digested before its
principles can be adjusted to the naturalistic presentation which is to
be the peculiar quality of Spanish art. Meanwhile we can see the
naturalistic tendency already forming. The fine head, immediately behind
the Saint’s, is that of a Spanish gentleman of the period. All the
heads, in fact, are of local types, and the exaggeration of action in
the figures and of emotion in the faces, is characteristic of a nation
so dramatically disposed as the Spanish, while the excess of humility in
the demeanour of the Saint is characteristic of the devotional attitude
of this painter toward his art. For he, like many others among the
Spanish artists, is said to have painted only sacred subjects and to
have prepared his spirit for the task by partaking of the Sacrament.
Another picture which helps to throw a light upon this period of Italian
imitation is the _Descent from the Cross_ by Pedro Campaña (page 51).
This painter was born in Brussels in 1503. But, though of Flemish
origin, he gained his knowledge of art in Rome, whence he passed to
Spain, living in Seville for twenty-four years, until his death in 1580.
Thus he was an important factor in the transitionary development of the
School of Andalusia. Murillo particularly admired this picture, and at
his own request was buried beneath it in the Church of Santa Cruz. When
the latter was pulled down, the picture was removed to the Cathedral,
where it now hangs in the Sacristy. Its indebtedness to Raphael is
apparent in the group of figures at the foot of the Cross, while a
Peruginesque influence is suggested in the draperies of the men upon the
ladders and in the placing of their figures against the sky. But also
evident is the artificiality of the whole. The gestures and expression
of the women are affected; quite inadequate is the support which is
being given to the Sacred Body, while the attitude of the latter is too
obviously regulated with the double intention of securing certain lines
in the composition and of introducing the suggestion of forgiveness of
the Magdalen. In fact, the chief virtue of the picture seems to be its
extremely handsome composition, which must be admitted to have great
nobility as well as a fine organic simplicity. The picture, indeed, is
an achievement of science; valuable for its enforcement of academic
principles; yet, even so, the work, not of a master, but a manneristic
imitator.
* * * * *
It is with more interest than one turns to the work of another artist of
this transition period, Luis de Morales. For although he experimented
with various motives, his adoption of them seems to have been prompted
by his search for the expression of a personally sincere religious
fervor. Almost nothing is recorded of his life, beyond the few facts
that he was a native of Badajoz, on the frontier of Portugal, and died
there in 1586; that, except for a visit to Madrid at the invitation of
Philip II he seems to have spent his life in the quiet retirement of his
native city, and notwithstanding the estimation in which his pictures
were held, reached an old age of poverty. For it is related that the
king passing through Badajoz, sent for the artist. The latter, when as a
young man he had been summoned to Court, appeared in so sumptuous an
attire, that the King remonstrated with him, but was appeased by
Morales’ explanation that he donned it in honor of his Majesty. Now,
however, he appeared in a condition of extreme destitution. To Philip’s
remark: “Morales, you are very old,” the artist replied, “Yes, your
Majesty, and very poor.” The king on the spot awarded him a pension of
two hundred ducats. “For your dinner,” he said, to which Morales
replied, “And for supper, Sire?” The King, so the story goes, accepted
the jest and added another hundred ducats a year to the pension. This
episode took place in 1581 and it is supposed that Morales at the time
of his death, five years later, had reached the age of seventy-seven
years.
Nothing is known as to the way in which Morales learned his art, but a
comparative study of his various styles suggests that he may have had
access to some work or copy of a work of Michelangelo, to some examples
of the Milanese School of Leonardo da Vinci and to pictures of the
contemporary Flemish and German Schools. The Michelangelesque influence,
according to the official notice of this artist in the catalogue of the
Prado Gallery, is discernible chiefly in works that are to be found in
Badajoz and Lisbon. It would appear that they are distinguished by an
exaggeration of manner. A similar trait appears in a _Pietá_ which hangs
in the Academy of San Fernando in Madrid. The Virgin is seated at the
foot of the Cross, supporting the dead body of Christ. The latter is in
an attitude of being seated, the arms suspended and the head laid back
on the shoulder, immediately below the head of the Virgin. The nude form
is as hard as if it were carved in wood, and in contrast to its pallid
whiteness are long streams of crimson blood, as glossy and stiff as
ribands. In fact, combined with the naturalistic correctness of the
drawing the figure has an exaggerated Gothic feeling, while another
excess, this time of refinement, appears in the microscopic precision
with which the hair of the beard and head is represented. This delicacy,
suggestive of the Milanese influence, reappears in the _Virgin Caressing
the Infant Jesus_ of the Prado Gallery and the variations of the same
theme which may be seen in the Hispanic Museum, New York. Here, however,
the meticulous rendering of the little golden chestnut curls which
cluster on the heads of the Mother and Child is in accord with the
loving, tender regard for refined sweetness of expression that
characterises the whole treatment. The Prado also possesses an _Ecce
Homo_; the figure, seen nearly to the waist, nude but for a crimson
mantle which covers the shoulders and is fastened on the chest. One of
the bound hands holds a reed and a crown of thorns surmounts the head,
drops of blood showing on the forehead. The face, with its straight
brows and deep-set eyes, long finely chiseled nose, and sensitive mouth,
surrounded by a softly growing beard, the whole modeled sensitively with
a Milanese subtlety of chiaroscuro, expresses an interesting blend of
intellectuality and ecstasy. In this union one may easily discover an
essentially Spanish feeling. However the methods may have been borrowed
from elsewhere, the sentiment is Castilian of the sixteenth century, a
mingling of high-bred nature and spiritual introspection.
Another picture of the Prado, selected for reproduction on page 62, is
_The Presentation of the Infant Jesus in the Temple_. It is an important
example, revealing a fuller capacity for ordered composition, in which
there is a grandiose dignity, strangely
[Illustration:
DESCENT FROM THE CROSS PEDRO CAMPAÑA
SEVILLE CATHEDRAL]
interrupted by a littleness of feeling. The latter is particularly
noticeable in the highly finished rendering of the child’s body,
disposed so affectedly amid the prim folds of the greyish white drapery.
One may be conscious also of a certain exaggerated gesture of humility
in the Virgin’s figure; but, on the other hand, how firm in its
assertion of liberty of action is the supple figure of the maiden who
holds the basket of doves! How excellently imagined, moreover, are the
spotting of the several heads, the upright lines of the candles and the
broad bold spaces of the white tablecloth!
The reputation of Morales has been injured by the number of _Ecce Homos_
and _Magdalens_, sentimentally mawkish, which, according to latest
judgment, have been ascribed to him falsely. For, in an age of artistic
copying, working for patrons who demanded an excessive display of
pietistic ecstasy, he was distinguished by a considerable measure of
individual temperament as well as of sincere religious feeling.
* * * * *
The signal example of an individual personality, is that of Domenico
Theotocopuli, popularly called El Greco from the fact that he was born
in Crete. Since he will form the subject of another chapter, it is
sufficient here to recall the fact that he reached Spain by way of
Venice and Rome and settled in Toledo. His art bridges the last quarter
of the sixteenth century and the first of the seventeenth, and,
notwithstanding his foreign training, was deeply imbued with the Spanish
spirit of his day.
Meanwhile, during the latter part of the sixteenth century a more
direct infusion of Italian influence reached Spain through the artists
whom Philip imported from Italy to decorate the Escoriál. During the
first twenty-five years of his reign he had continued the patronage of
Titian, commenced by his father, Charles V. The latter, after he had sat
to the great Venetian, loaded him with marks of favor, including an
order of nobility, and vowed that no other artist was worthy to paint
Cæsar. Philip’s pride equally demanded the services of the artist who
was accounted the greatest of his day, and Titian was willing to give
them. “Is not my aim in life,” he wrote, “to refuse the services of
other princes and to cling to that of your majesty?” The king’s
commissions were for religious subjects, but Titian, knowing the other
side of his patron’s nature, supplemented them with nudes and the
so-called “poesies,” or subjects of more or less erotic significance.
Hence the collection of over forty Titian’s which is one of the glories
of the Prado Gallery.
Among the painters summoned from Italy by Philip II the best known are
Frederico Zucchero, Pelegrino Tibaldi, Bartolomeo Carducho and Patricio
Caxés. They were men of facile but inferior ability, whose work is of
little interest in itself and has no part, except that of an interlude,
in the development of native art. On the other hand a definite and
distinguished rôle was played by the Flemish painter, Antony Mor or
Moro. He had been portrait painter to Charles V in Flanders, and in 1552
came to Spain in the train of Cardinal Granvilla. During a prolonged
stay at the Spanish Court he enriched his Flemish method by study of
the portraits by Titian which the emperor had accumulated. Moro’s
teaching and influence started the Castile School of portrait painting.
His best pupil was Alonso Sánchez Coello, (?-1590) whose portraits are
vital records of personality, although somewhat trivialized by the
elaboration of meticulous detail.